Rebecca and I just returned from Houston and a visit with Rebecca’s son, Jonathan, and spouse Suzanne and three year old Irene (Inie). In “Cool McCool,” Rebecca writes about another aspect of our most recent visit. In this blog, I want to reflect a bit on how every ‘thing’ and every ‘body’ has a limited number of days.

Every time I visit Houston and see the Astrodome dwarfed by NRG stadium. I remember my dad in 1966 coming back from a business trip to Houston full of wonder about his experience inside what was then called the Eighth Wonder of the World. Today the Astrodome is easy to miss for the thousands of people passing by each day on Interstate 610 and barely registers with anyone under the age of 60. Inevitably that same fate will befall NRG, some day, for its days are numbered as well.

My son Ben re-introduced me to Bob Dylan about 15 years ago and Dylan’s “Mississippi,” with its first verse that contains this blog’s title is my favorite Dylan stanza. Here it is: “Every step of the way we walk the line, Your days are numbered, so are mine, Time is piling up, we struggle and we scrape, We’re all boxed in, nowhere to escape.”

The Astrodome’s days are numbers, so are mine. So are yours! As for me, my exact days including today are 25,673. A few years ago I discovered the To Do Institute that offers online courses and other resources on “alternative methods of mental health such as Morita and Naikan from Japan.” The Institute’s journal is called “Thirty Thousand Days: A Journal for Purposeful Living.” The thirty thousand days comes from the average life span in countries like the USA.

One way to live a purposeful life with whatever time we have left is to remind ourselves how close we are to 30,000 days. When I subtract 25,673 from 30,000 not only am I reminded that I learned to subtract so long ago that I now need my phone calculator, but the 4,327 days I may have left remind me I will not live forever. Each of us knows none will get out of this life alive but it is so easy to think ‘I’ just might be the exception.

Rebecca’s house in Clarinda is next to a cemetery and my house in Decorah is down the block from a funeral home. With reflection, each offers an opportunity to move from what Heidegger (this insight comes from Irvin D. Yalom’s Staring at the Sun) called the everyday mode of existence, from HOW things are in the world, to the ontological mode, THAT things are. When I die, the absence of ‘THAT I am’, makes ‘HOW the world is’, no longer relevant.

The late Indian Jesuit priest Anthony de Mello suggested the following meditation in his book Awareness as a way of reminding us of death so as to remind us of the value of our life.

“Imagine that you’re lying flat in your coffin and you’re dead. See the body decomposing, then the bones, the ‘it’ all turning to dust. Now look at your problems from that viewpoint. Changes everything , doesn’t it? Do this for a minute or so each day and you’ll come alive…When you’re ready to lose your life, you live it.”

One of my favorite films is Ikiru (To Live) by the Japanese director Akira Kurosawa. It is available on Prime and well worth two and a half hours of your time. It is about a middle aged Japanese bureaucrat who learns he has terminal stomach cancer and what he learns about what it means to live in his final months. Ikiru is one of most uplifting films I have ever seen and one that reminds me to live each day to the fullest, with as much kindness and compassion as I can muster.

At ages eight and twelve I joined little neighborhood gangs that had as membership requirements stealing items from a local store.  I was on my way to becoming a thief.  I have little memory of the first incident other than we were caught and my mom was upset.  The second round, a few years later, is clear in my mind and, upon reflection, one of those life-turning points.

Vinnie and Mark were my mates, with the former the leader of the gang.  To be in the gang, each of us had to steal one item from a drug store located a few blocks from our houses.  We all lived in a middle-class neighborhood, on the east side of Davenport, Iowa.  My mom was a stay-at-home-mom as was Mark’s.  I am not sure about Vinnie’s mom as she seemed gone a lot.  Mark’s dad owned an advertising agency, Vinnie’s was a judge, and mine was a chemical engineer.

Vinnie was the leader, the toughest of the three, and had a parent-free house during the day where we planned our shenanigans and reconnoitered with our loot.  Mine was a bottle of aspirin, stolen from a drug store in the Village section of East Davenport that would be knocked down some years later to make room for a Happy Joe’s Pizza Parlor. I don’t remember the items Mark or Vinnie stole.  It was the summer of 1961 and my life was about to change.

The phone call from Mrs. Cleveland who lived next to Vinnie and a few houses down from Mark came in the early evening.  I answered it and she must have given me her name because when I handed the phone to my mom I went up to my room and started worrying.  Mrs. Cleveland was not a friend of my moms, why was she calling?  Our one phone was in the living room, down the stairs from my bedroom.  I could hear my mom’s voice and the conversation seemed to go on for a long time.  Eventually my dad came up to my room and sat next to me on the bed.  He was calm and direct, as was his way.  He told me Mrs. Cleveland had talked to the drug store owner who had observed me steal the aspirin.  I must have ratted out Vinnie and Mark because a few days later Vinnie beat me up and Mark ignored me the rest of the summer. 

My dad told me my mom was very upset and it would take her some time to get over how disappointed she was in me.  And that she would not talk to me for a while.  This was the first silence.  My memory is that my mom did not talk to me for a couple of weeks.  It may have been shorter or longer but one morning as she was closing the refrigerator door she turned to me at the breakfast table and said good morning.  My mom broke her silence.  I was back in her good graces and no longer ostracized.  For a kid not quite a teenager, more on my 13^th birthday later, being back mattered, a lot.

My dad’s silence was different.  A few days after Mrs. Cleveland spilled the beans, a Friday, I think, my dad came home from work and said to me, only me and not also my two brothers, Peter and Pat, ‘let’s go for a ride.’  My dad would often take me, the oldest, to get donuts on Saturday morning so being in the car alone with him was not so unusual.  This was a Friday late afternoon, something must be up, and he did not say anything as we rode together along River Road toward downtown and much to my surprise, the Davenport Police Station. 

We walked together into the station, a first for me, with my dad still not saying anything.  We were met by a policeman who took me, without my dad, through a door and back to an area with cells.  I don’t remember what he said, and there were no prisoners behind those bars, and after a brief tour we were back in the lobby where my dad was waiting.  We got in the car and rode home together, in silence. 

Later that fall my dad would also break his silence on this stealing problem but in way that was about someone else but really was about me.  Again, it started with a phone call from a neighbor who told us someone else was collecting money for the paper I delivered to her.  She gave my dad the name of the kid and my dad and I went to his house to confront him.  The house was a few blocks from our house, very small, dark and a little run down.  I waited just inside the front door while my father went inside to talk with the culprit and his father.  

On the way home, he told me some kids are the way they are because of the kind of family circumstance they come from.  I could tell my dad felt sorry for the kid who tried to steal my paper route money.  But he was also telling me, no, that’s not quite right, he was showing me that my family was different and that I could be different.  

A few days after the paper route incident we celebrated my 13^th birthday.  My mother would make for the first time what would become my favorite cake, a chocolate wafer icebox cake.  Earlier that day, my dad and I got in the car and went for donuts.

I never stole again.

This quote prompts a painful memory. Rebecca and I had just finished breakfast and had parts of the Omaha World Herald in our hands, she the front section and I the sports. A newspaper ‘in our hands,’ so it was years ago. Rebecca was reading an opinion piece about the Affordable Health Care Act and described the gist to me. As she talked my stomach tightened signaling to me disagreement and without a moment’s hesitation I immediately switched to my ‘Lincoln’ mode and began to counter each of the points made in the opinion piece.

I might as well have gotten up on the table and started “Four score’ing this and “it is for the living” that. Rebecca responded in a way most of you would predict. She got up and left for work, early as I recall. Later that day we talked through this incident, never wanting to let things fester. She talked and I listened. And I talked and she listened. Our ‘Lincolns’ (Rebecca admits she has a ‘Lincoln’ as well) safely tucked in the corner. Sanity prevailed.

I suppose it is the professor in me but I continue to think I can change someone’s mind by delivering a message. That was what I was doing with Rebecca that morning long ago, delivering a message. I think I can persuade someone through the brilliance of my analysis – that is my ‘Lincoln.’ And it never, ever works – that is my insanity, mindlessly repeating this mistake.

“Delivering messages does not work,” does not persuade, is the most powerful take-away for me from Peter Boghossian & James Lindsay’s insightful How to Have Impossible Conversations. In “Political Discussions 101,” I describe other useful tips for difficult political conversations. Why doesn’t going to our ‘Lincoln’ work, even when we have the facts and logic on our side?

Boghossian and Lindsay are so good at explaining the answer to this question, with evidence from lots of good social science. The following are two additional take-aways.

Facts never persuade because most political arguments are between people who do not share the same values. For example, an important value to me is fairness whereas for Rebecca it is efficiency. Instead of either of us going to our ‘Lincoln’ and delivering a message about why we like or don’t like the Affordable Health Care Act it would be better for each of us to ask the other what value leads them to like or dislike Obamacare or Medicare for All? Once we are at the level of values, we can move the conversation forward by asking why our partner believes this value is compelling.

If I am asked why the value of fairness is important to me, this forces me to do three things. One, it moves me away from my comfortable and practiced policy responses. Two, it prods me to consider my values and where they come from. And three, it suggests to me that my conversation partner also argues from a position of values, in other words, from a position of what h/she considers what it means to be a good person.

Each of these moves, away from comfort, deeper consideration of values, recognition that my partner also operates at the level of values, opens the door of doubt. And it is doubt that can lead to changing one’s mind.

Abraham Lincoln gave his Second Inaugural Address one month before he was assassinated, with both John Wilkes Booth and Frederick Douglass in the audience. I have unfairly used ‘Lincoln’ as the foil in my little essay, representing a perspective – our belief that we can change minds through the delivery of our message – that suggests an arrogance that was anathema to Lincoln.

Consider the following excerpt from what many consider to be Lincoln’s greatest speech where both refers to the North and the South. “Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God…let us judge not that we be not judged.”

When victory was within sight, what does Lincoln do? He extends a hand of reconciliation to the enemy through the language of humility.

If I could redo that ‘blah blah’ on Obamacare with Rebecca many years ago, I would keep THIS Lincoln close by. This ‘Lincoln’ acknowledges that she believes as she does because her intention is to be a good person. Neither of us knows the whole Truth, whatever its source. Doubt & humility are the great equalizers and I can help show the way by modeling them in the way I converse with others.

Have you ever thought about the gifts you receive from the world, human and otherwise? For example, I am writing this blog in Clarinda, Iowa’s Lied Library, sitting in a comfortable chair, toasting in front of a warm fire, and listening to children read to the library staff. How many people and things did it take to produce this building and all that it contains? After I finish this little essay, I will get into my car and travel a few blocks to Clarinda’s recycling containers to drop off glass, plastic, and paper.

I could spend hours listing all responsible for this library, my car and those recycling containers. Imagine counting all the meals your mother and/or father prepared for you. Consider the little courtesies you receive each day. This morning on the way to the library I and my car met another person and her car at exactly the same moment at an an intersection on the Clarinda square. We looked at each other, she smiled, and motioned for me to go forward. I returned her smile and nudged my car through the intersection, feeling just a little better than I had a moment before.

Prompted by her kindness, I looked for an opportunity to do something for someone else. Walking into the library I made a point of smiling and greeting the first person I saw so that I could bestow a gift. Have you ever thought about the gifts to others and the world that you provide each day? That smile and greeting was a gift, as is, I suppose, this blog. Take a few minutes today and compare the gifts you receive with the gifts you provide. If you are like me, the former will outnumber the latter, by a lot. This is good for me to know and, in and of itself, helps me be more grateful than I might otherwise be. The world gives me a lot more than I give it.

Just this moment I look over to my right and see the library’s Omaha World Herald on the table next to me. Oops, I finished reading it about 30 minutes ago and have not yet returned it to the shelf. I know there are others waiting for this paper because I wait for it everyday I am in this comfortable place. Have you ever asked yourself, what trouble do I cause others everyday? Oh, boy. A very uncomfortable question, isn’t it? I started asking myself this question about two years ago and I would say it has changed my life. Not in the sense that I no longer cause trouble for others. Of course I do, day-in and day-out, but if I had a trouble-meter attached to me I think the daily trouble numbers would be trending down.

Two years ago I was introduced to a Japanese self-reflection discipline called Naikan. An excellent book introducing Naikan is Naikan: Gratitude, Grace and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection by Gregg Krech. The Naikan approach focuses on the three questions I have listed here: 1. What gifts have I received from others? 2. What gifts have I given to others? & 3. What trouble have I caused others?

Occasional reflection on these questions has been a humbling experience for me and also leads me to be more more grateful for the seen and unseen world that props me up each and every day.

How often have you been in a ‘cat and dog’ conversation? You come away feeling hopeless or despondent or a failure. In our current political moment, this happens too often to too many of us. One personal example still haunts me.

Dick and I had just introduced ourselves at a dinner event and after a bit of friendly small talk, Dick said ‘I have been reading The Case for Trump by Victor Davis Hanson.’ Without a moment’s hesitation, I replied ‘I don’t think I could read such a book.’ Recognizing almost (but not quite) immediately my mistake, I tried to recover by saying nice things about the author who I was familiar with but the damage had been done. The conversational energy was gone. It was my fault and I knew it.

Peter Boghossian & James Lindsay in How to Have Impossible Conversations have written a book full of helpful insights about how to have “conversations that take place across a seemingly unbridgeable gulf of disagreement in ideas, beliefs, morals, politics and worldviews.” Their book is full of hope and built upon the idea that anyone can learn the skills necessary to make impossible conversations possible and productive.

The book is divided by skill level, from beginner through master. In a future blog that can be found on paulmuses.com, I will describe some intermediate and advanced skills that can help you both think more carefully about your own perspectives and sow doubt in the thinking of your conversational partner. In this blog I will report on several fundamental skills – political discussions 101 – that once mastered should give you the confidence needed to enter difficult conversations.

Why engage in political conversation? When Dick mentioned The Case for Trump, I, without thinking, slotted him as an adversary and the ‘case for Trump’ something I was sure needed not to be understood but rebutted. Boghossian and Lindsay suggest a better way to think about political conversation is as a partnership, with the goal understanding and not winning. Here is an imaginative reconstruction of how the conversation with Dick might have gone, with partnership and understanding replacing adversary and winning.

Dick: ‘I have been reading Victor Davis Hanson’s The Case for Trump’. Paul: ‘That’s interesting. What is the case for Trump?’ Dick: [Describes the case for Trump] Paul: ‘What do you think about the case Hanson makes?’

If the initial conversation had continued down this path, perhaps Dick and I could have increased each other’s understanding of the other’s point of view or even begun to doubt our own. As it was, my adversarial and must win approach stopped the conversation before it could begin.

Reframing political conversations as partnerships working toward better understanding is a game changer for me. Boghassian and Lindsay put it this way, “approach every conversation with an awareness that your partner understands problems in a way that you don’t currently understand.” Adding to this wisdom, the authors remind us that Aristotle said the mark of an educated mind is understanding a position without accepting it.

The picture below is of a Pete Buttigieg house conversation event my partner Rebecca Wiese and I hosted last Sunday. You see about half the people in attendance. Look closely, at how intently people are listening. There were democrats (progressives and moderates), Republicans, and independents all paying close attention to what others were saying. Boghassian and Lindsay on listening, “if you do not listen, you cannot understand. And if you cannot understand, there is no conversation.”

How does one listen? You pause and wait, and then pause and wait again and again. Do it enough, pause and wait, and you develop the habit of listening and with listening, understanding.

Partnership, understanding, and listening and not adversary, winning and talking, can these and other fundamentals be the keys to engaging with those who see the world differently than we do?

Imagine listening more and being listened to more. Imagine understanding more and being understood better. Imagine seeing your political opponent as having a necessary truth, to fill in the half-truth you have.

In the world you have just imagined, all that is lost is your (and my) current fear or refusal to have what we wrongly believe are impossible conversations.

There is something that is lost in the current climate of not having these difficult conversations. It makes changing minds harder. If you think the ideas people have influence the actions they take, then giving up on influencing these ideas is giving up on one tool to change the world. How to change minds through conversations is the subject of my next blog.

I discovered this Jefferson quote from a book I am reading, How to Have Impossible Conversations: A Very Practical Guide by Peter Boghossian and James Lindsay.

Yesterday, a delightful memory filled FaceTime talk with old friends. A week ago an edgy chat with a new friend. Last month, a comfortable lunch confab with a brother. Three conversations where all acknowledged the dangers of talking about what Jefferson called “differences of opinion in politics,” before moving on to other things. I’ll bet you have had similar experiences, with friends and family, who disagree with you about politics.

I have strong political opinions, biases if you will. My old & new friends and my brother have as well, their own biases, and they all identify with the ‘other’ American political party. Interestingly, I would bet if those three were put in a room and told to talk about President Trump very quickly differences would surface and they might have to stop talking lest ruin the chance of losing a new found friend.

Some of my Sanders and Warren Facebook friends have lost patience with my Buttigieg-based counter points to their posts. No de-friending yet but I have taken the hint and backed off.

I am tempted to blame Mr. Trump for deepening and intensifying our tribal and intra-tribal differences so much so as to affect our friendships. I know, I know, some who will read this post will say Mr. Obama was equally at fault! A fair point and some truth to both assertions.

The Political Scientist in me would make three general points about politics. One, politics is all about working out our real differences in a peaceful way. Differences and conflict, in other words, are why we have politics. Two, politics is about different world views, influenced by different moral perspectives. Three, my political identity – and the political identity of my friends and brother – is naturally energized by the opposing political groups.

I think what frustrates many of us is that we lose sight of these points and think politics ought to remedy our differences or that as a mature democracy, at this political business for 200+ years, we should somehow have come together as one people. This misunderstanding of politics, at a personal level, means that I believe you should see the world as I do and you believe the same. We mistakenly idolize a false political god, unity.

Friendship is about commonalities; politics is about differences. You and I are made up of multiples, with a part of each of us in need of friends, and a part in need of politics, a way of working out our public differences.

America’s polarized politics gives us a chance to reflect upon the wondrous complexity of each of us, personally and politically.