The start of a new year spurs many of us who observe the Gregorian calendar to take stock of the year just gone and to set goals for the year ahead, whether personal, financial, business, or spiritual.
In looking back on this past year, one event stands out: I lost my beloved friend Maureen last April when she died after a two-year battle with cancer.
What kind of friend was she? Here’s what kind:
Quite a few years ago, my career headed in a new direction, I was about to depart on an out-of-state business trip that would take me many miles away from home and well out of my comfort zone. (I also have to confess that I was terrified of flying.) Knowing how important this first trip was, how much was riding on it, and how absolutely petrified I was about getting on that plane, Maureen mailed me a card filled with handwritten words of encouragement, optimism, and love. I immediately put it inside my briefcase so that it would be with me on my trip. The trip was a success, just as Maureen predicted it would be.
Her card’s my good luck talisman and travels with me to this day, no matter where I go. The envelope that contains it is frayed around the edges, and the card itself is battered and worn from holding it in my hands so often, but the words, in Maureen’s handwriting, remain clear.
Maureen was an extraordinary, luminous soul, lit from within by all the qualities of character she possessed. She let that light shine brightly into the lives of those fortunate enough to have known her. Like that card I carry with me, Maureen’s love still travels with us, packed up safe inside our hearts.
I will always remember how much that simple and sincere gesture meant to me. A card, a stamp, a few handwritten words. That was all. Friendship is built upon such foundations – the thoughtful deed and the stalwart heart.
And so, in Maureen’s honor, there’s one resolution I set for myself this year: to be a friend like her.
With best wishes to you all for a joyful and healthy 2010, and may you be blessed with loyal friends.
Thanks so much for reading.
I know that an unaccustomed silence has fallen here. The last two months have brought difficult challenges for my family and me to face. With regret I had to put so much on hold, including this blog. Many of you have contacted me to ask if I’m okay, and I am deeply grateful to you for your concern.
Like many, I am glad to see a new year begin. May 2009 bring to all of you health, friendship, and hopes fulfilled.
I look forward to beginning our conversation anew.
Last night marked the start of the celebration of the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. In anticipation, several days earlier, I began rereading a book I’d acquired several years ago, Nothing Sacred, a controversial work by media critic Douglas Rushkoff that seeks 21st century meaning in the traditions and texts of Judaism.
Rushkoff argues that Judaism is “a religion dedicated to media literacy” — an approach to deconstructing, analyzing and questioning media’s messages — which offers digital-age lessons in participatory democracy for the secular world.
He points to Judaism’s core practices:
Judaism is a religion dedicated to media literacy. The initiation to adult practice is not an act of faith, but a demonstration of literacy called a bar (or bat) mitvah…Jews have to be able to not only read the text, but also understand what it means…
Further, Jewish rituals require community participation. The Torah scroll cannot even be read unless ten people — a minyan — are present. This was a safeguard against isolation and its destructive impact. If only such priorities were used in the media space, where an isolated, self-doubting viewer is considered the most valuable target for markets selling on TV or the Web.
In an undated interview with the Jewish Public Forum, Rushkoff observed,
The fact that Jews are not supposed to read the holy texts alone – we’re not even supposed to read the Talmud by ourselves – is also fascinating. It forces us to be social and interactive with our stories and laws, rather than alone with them. It’s more like participating in a chat room or newsgroup than sitting passively on a Web site. We can maintain some critical distance. We are invited to think and comment. The text is kept alive. Transparent.
In Rushkoff’s world, Judaism’s traditions translate into lessons for 21st century citizens. We all bear responsibility to remake ourselves into knowledgeable, literate consumers of modern media who can analyze and decode its messages and gain resistance to propaganda and distortions of fact. Discussion and constant questioning, not blind-faith acceptance, are essential to uncovering truths and debunking false claims, whether in spiritual practices or political ones.
Today, as a new year begins, as the U.S. faces financial chaos, and a presidential election looms just weeks away, I pause for a moment to consider how Rushkoff’s insights on Jewish traditions apply to the secular texts that are the foundation of American democracy — our Constitution, our laws — as well as to the cacophony of messages through media — TV, radio, print, web — that seek to sway us.
Rushkoff of course is right: to participate fully, to be engaged citizens, we must demand media literacy of ourselves (and also, I would hasten to add, of those who would lead us). We must be literate enough to decipher the messages that shape our lives and our decisions — at the moment, the choices we Americans will make in the voting booth in November.
by Diane Levin on February 1, 2008
in Seasonal
During my first year of blogging, I posted “Breaking bread: Could sharing food foster cooperation between parties in mediation?“, a story from Deltona, Florida, about a failed mediation involving a land dispute. An ingenious Deltona resident had an inspired idea: why not settle differences instead over a plate of barbecue? But I suggested taking things one step further: mediate and eat barbecue.
I still think it’s a great idea.
The Super Bowl is this Sunday, and football means barbecue. (Baseball means barbecue, too, but we’ll revisit that on Opening Day.) In the interests of encouraging Patriots fans and Giants fans to put aside their differences and come together, here’s my recipe for grilled baby back ribs.
Ingredients:
2 racks of baby back ribs
For the dry rub
- 4 tblsp. sweet paprika
- 2 tblsp. chili powder
- 2 tblsp. ground cumin seeds
- 2 tblsp. ground fennel seeds
- 2 tblsp. brown sugar
- 1 tblsp. white sugar
- 2 tblsp. kosher salt
- 1 tblsp. dried oregano
- 1 tblsp. freshly ground pepper
- 1/2 – 2 tsp. chipotle chili pepper or hot Hungarian paprika (depending on your tolerance for heat)
Instructions:
Put all ingredients into a plastic lidded container, close lid, and shake until well blended. Store in fridge for up to 2 months.
Four hours before you start your fire, rub the dry rub on the ribs. Place on a baking sheet covered with plastic wrap and place in fridge. One hour before you plan to put the ribs on the grill, remove from fridge and let stand at room temperature.
I use a 22 1/2 inch Weber kettle grill for these ribs. If you’re using a gas grill, you’re on your own here, but you’ll be grilling these using indirect heat using a covered grill. Build a charcoal fire, and promise me that you’ll use a large charcoal chimney, not lighter fluid, to light your charcoal.
Fill a large chimney with coals and allow to burn until covered with a light layer of white ash. When the coals are ready, pile them up on either side of the grill with a drip pan in the middle filled with the contents of a bottle of beer (domestic or imported, it’s up to you). Put the cooking grate in place, cover the grill, making sure the vents are open, and let the grill heat for about 5 minutes. Place the ribs on the grate, cover, and cook for 2 hours. You may need to replenish the charcoal halfway through, but resist the temptation to lift the lid and check otherwise.
Now here’s the important part. Remove the ribs from the heat, wrap up tightly in one large sheet of heavy-duty aluminum foil, then fold up in a large, heavy bath towel and leave the ribs to rest at room temperature for 45 minutes to a full hour.
Unwrap, brush with the barbecue sauce of your choice if you want (or enjoy the smoky pork goodness all on its own), cut the ribs, and serve. Feeds 4.
(Adapted from Cook’s Illustrated Best Recipe Grilling & Barbecuing.)
It’s been such a busy month that my third anniversary of blogging, January 10, 2008, passed unnoticed. I completely forgot until now.
That is partly due to the attention that my blog’s move to a new home required, as well as the demands of work. And among the tasks involved in that move was the slow sorting-through and creation of categories for over 650 posts, the product of 36 months of blogging.
Among my archives I discovered several posts that reminded me why I continue to blog — some thoughts I’d like to share with you as I look back on three years.
Blogging of course is an effective marketing tool, one reason why many businesses and entrepreneurs are drawn to it, as my friend and fellow New Englander, Tammy Lenski, reminds readers today in asking an important question, “Is blogging a good mediation marketing strategy?”
Blogs are also tools for gathering and disseminating knowledge and information. In a post from June 2005, “Five reasons why ADR professionals should be blogging“, I argued that blogging may make you smarter:
Successful blogging requires research. So bloggers surf the web, cruising for news. We’re Internet blood-hounds, tracking down the elusive scent of stories that will pique the curiosity of our readers. That constant prowling alerts us to stories, trends, breaking news in our field—and even in fields that have nothing whatsoever to do with our blog’s focus, which, I would argue, makes us well-rounded individuals.
But blogging by nature is designed to connect not just ideas but people — for me blogging’s greatest appeal. As I wrote in November 2006, “Get the connection: building your network through blogs“:
Although I have made many contacts the old-fashioned way—through personal introductions, conference attendance, and committee work–nothing has connected me to the world around me faster or more dramatically than blogging has succeeded in doing.
Blogs bring people together like no conference or convention can. It allows for conversation in a multitude of ways.
Here’s one: Publish a post and instantly the whole world hears your message. But this is no one-way conversation–because most blogs permit reader comments, the world can talk back.
Here’s another: Another blogger reads your post. Intrigued by the viewpoint or links you shared, he or she riffs on what you’ve written and links back to you, amplifying the conversation. Suddenly your voice is joined by someone else’s. Other bloggers chime in and the chorus of voices grows.
Here’s another: Someone discovers your blog. One of your posts has sparked their imagination or triggered questions. They email you to tell you. Or they email you a link to an article they think you’d find interesting. Or they email you just to say hello.
With a little encouragement, these conversations can ultimately give rise to meaningful connections–to collegiality, to inspiration, to collaboration. These connections, as I have happily discovered, can produce discoveries, insights, and, most rewardingly, friendships.
Contrary to popular belief, blogging is not a solitary activity. It is joyfully, boldly public.
You can shout into the canyon and hear your own voice echo back.
But wait and shout again, and you will hear other voices rise in greeting.
That, more than any other reason, is why blogging remains such an essential part of my professional life. It is the collegiality, the friendships that have sprung up across geographic distances. It is the pleasure of mutual discovery, of interests shared. It is the sparks struck and the ideas that ignite when viewpoints collide.
Here on the web, what matters most: Only connect.
Thanks to all of you for sharing some or all of those three years with me. I’m glad you were here.
