For my 100th post, I'd like to offer you...

...the Tao of the Starfish-Thrower.

I remember when I was in high school attending a “motivational speaker” who came to encourage us to stay off of drugs, or stay in school, or don’t drink at the prom, or make the most of ourselves, or something. The speaker was doing pretty well endearing herself to us, for the most part; she had not tried to use “teen language,” she didn’t enter to a canned rap backbeat, and she didn’t fall down. That and the fact that she got you out of history class bought her some credibility.

Just towards the end of her presentation, she began to share a personal story about something that had happened to her on vacation. You see…there she was, on the beaches of North Carolina, enjoying a morning walk…when she happened upon a shore full of at least a thousand beached starfish. If you don’t know where this story is going, you’ve never been to a charity fundraiser or a Christian church, and may want to stop and go here.

It probably goes without saying that the assembly turned into a jeering mass of high-school jadedness shortly thereafter, and, if I remember right, ended with a vice-principal threatening to give us (all 1800 of us) detention if we didn't force ourselves to listen to the speaker's conclusion.

The plight of the speaker isn't the point of this post, however...it just gave me a fun way to talk about starfish...


As I sat on the porch last night with Stacy and my friend Dan, the conversation turned to charity, responsibility, and justice. We had expressed that we all felt guilty about living in a suburb in Ohio, versus in a dump in Mexico, a street in China, a FEMA trailer after Katrina, etc. We all felt bad that we had, while others didn't.

We talked a lot about what we were doing for the world...and, perhaps more emotionally-impactful, what we weren't doing for the world. We talked about giving money, giving time, and the nagging sense that if we were really good people we'd be in Darfur, or Iraq, or Applachia, serving the poor. And maybe that's true. But I also realized something else, and it had everything to do with that starfish story. It is this:



...the guy who threw the starfish back acknowledged two truths:
1. I saved that one.
2. (By implication) I did not save the rest.



The reality is, the Starfish-Thrower knew that the other starfish would die. He had to. The other guy told him so, and his reply denotes agreement. By choosing the 3,418th starfish on the beach, he chose to let the 3,417th starfish die. That starfish was no different than that which he threw, save for its location only inches away. In any given moment, he picked one to throw, and by doing so, doomed all those he would not pick.

I have to realize that every time I spend a dollar on a double cheeseburger or half a beer or 1/3 a gallon of gas, I am not giving it to feed Katrina victims. True. But I also have to realize that every dollar I spend feeding Katrina victims, I am not clothing the children of Afghanistan. And every dollar I spend clothing the children of Afghanistan, I am not releasing the sex-slaves of Malaysia. Every choice I make to save a starfish lets another one die.

So, given this reality...how do we deal?

Here are the options I see:

1. We do nothing, because people will always suffer and starfish will always beach.
2. We try do save all the starfish.
3. We pick a starfish, and let others die.


#1 is tempting. The amount of suffering in the world is absolutely unending (as, for what its worth, the amount of joy), and totally unfathomable. Therefore, it's tempting to shut one's eyes, huddle in the corner and rock oneself in to sleep in a sort of nihlistic possum-catatonia. But it's also a cop out. That's the whole point of the story...save one even if you can't save 'em all.

#2 is stupider. There's no quicker way to assure you're completely ineffective than to dedicate yourself to something you're bound to fail. You'll burn out, become uber-cynical, give up hope of ever accomplishing anything, and drink until it stops hurting.

#3 is hard as hell. OK, great, you throw a starfish back. That's the easy part. You donate to Red Cross, you show up at Ground Zero, and you serve in the Peace Corps. But then what? How do you eat that $7 Quizos while children die of hunger? How do you drink your $4 Starbucks while pregnant women die of cold for lack of blankets?

The answer...as far as last night's thinking would get me...

..you just do.

You accept it as reality. Just like the Starfish-Thrower.

People will suffer. They will always suffer. In unimaginable ways. (Again, just as we will experience joy in lush profundity). That is truth. And that sucks. Somehow, you learn to accept it, and you find the one thing you're going to do about it in that moment.

That one thing.

You contribute to the cause.
You drive to the blast zone.
You parent.
You volunteer.
You hug your mom.
You eat, and laugh to get stronger and revived.
You fight the war against something evil.
You protest the war against something human.
You come home from work because she waits for you.
You write the blog.
You work, to make the money.
You pray.
You hope as much as you can.
You sleep, so that you can do it again.

You do the one thing, and you value that for what it is. It is a drop in the bucket, and until you become present to that reality, I think you will inevitably go to #1 or #2. Let it be your drop in the bucket. The bucket will never fill...true. Live with that. It never will. But that doesn't mean you didn't add your drop. Choose futility; it's forever superior to ambivalence.

I am not a world-saver. I am not even yet a Starfish-Thrower, really. Not really. But I am learning to love those that were saved, and mourn for those that died, and perhaps to do so with equal reverence.

Peace,
Justin