We make sense of the world and our relation to it through the stories we tell.  Back in my young and wild Mormon days (riding bikes with the gang down the street of Japan, doing drive by conversions), I told the story of Joseph Smith to anyone who would listen.  The cool thing was that I was a character in that same story, and an important one (in fact, one of the great ones that Abraham saw!).  I knew that there was a plan, and I knew my place in the universe–someday I could be hovering invisibly over my own planet if I played all my cards right.  I also knew what all of your parts in the story were–but it’s cool.  In Mormonism, there’s a place for everyone (I hear that even the less valiant get their own frozen dwarf planets.)

So what tales do I tell now that I’ve checked out of the Book o’ Mormon?  The romantic in me envisions kind of a noiresque scene: it’s black and white, through the haze you can see an old typewriter and shot of weak bourbon on the desk.  You assume that there’s a wastepaper basket under that pile of crumpled drafts.  And there I am, clackety-clacking away, staring at blank sheets and scribbling out sentences on full ones.  Writing and revising, sometimes pleased, but more often not.  At least I’m not a ghost writer.  This baby’s all my own.

There’s no story without conflict and tension, and if nothing out, I think I’ve worked out what some of my life’s defining conflicts are.  I’ll share them with you over the next couple of weeks.  Let me know if they mesh with any of your storymaking.  The first one I like to call Pragmatism v. Idealism.  Here’s how they manifest themselves in my life:

The Idealistic John is motivated primarily by a need to be sincere, true to my own intentions, to be a person of integrity.  Damn the consequences, and especially fuck what others may think. This is the part of me that swung from near-libertarian dittohead Mo to Green Party peace activisting Quaker.  Not a whole lot of room for compromise there.

Then there’s another part of me that cares about impact, about the effects of my actions in the real world.  This is the part of me that deeply regrets supporting Ralph Nader in 2000 (I don’t want to argue whether or not he lost the election for Gore–it’s what he symbolizes to me that’s important here).  Supporting Gore’s campaign would have been a concession on my part, but in retrospect Mr. Inconvenient Truth would have been infinitely preferable to the criminal conspiracy currently ruling the U.S.  Sometimes doing something out of integrity may have greater negative impact than making a practical compromise. This pragmatic part of me wants results.  Which action feeds/frees more people?

Gandhi, a pragmatic idealist if there ever was one (and one of the shrewdest manipulators of public opinion in the 20th century), once said something to the effect of, “Practically anything you do will be insignificant, but it is important that you do it.”  The idealist in me takes comfort in this quote.  The utilitarian pragmatist in me chafes against it.

Fortunately, I don’t feel like I have to choose between the two (which pleases the indecisive part of me, which we will leave for another post).  There’s a creative tension in being as harmless as doves, as wise as serpents.  There’s a creative tension that comes from trying to maintain ones ideals while working towards maximum impact.  It also helps to have a long view.  It’s one reason I’m a Quaker–those crazy radicals were anti-slavery, pro-suffrage, and pacifist decades before those ideas mainstreamed.  What’s that you say? Pacifism isn’t mainstreamed yet?  In due time, my friend, in due time.