Policy vs. Politics

I was having a conversation with my dad over lunch today that reminded me about a post I wanted to write awhile back. Just finishing studying for a degree in public policy a lot of people ask me if I want to go into politics and the answer is no. The reason is the difference between policy and politics. As I see it, it's the same difference as between cake and frosting. Policy is the cake, the substance, the thing that actually fills you up, while politics is the frosting, the sugary part that makes it go down easier. Just like cake, you need about the right amount of substance and sugar to make things work well, but what I care about is the substance.

As I've thought more about it, I actually really love this analogy because I have yet to see it really fall apart on me. Too much frosting with too little cake and you have something that looks wonderful but makes your stomach churn as soon as you ingest it, leaves you longing for something more satisfying (or at least some good, cold milk to tone it down). Too much cake and too little frosting makes for something that's very filling but not as easy to sell, many people will pass it by for some more desireable-looking option. The thing is, just as you can develop a taste for dense, almost bitter dark chocolate flourless cake with just a dash of powdered sugar, I think you can develop a taste for sound policy with just a touch of political finesse to ease it through the process. But it takes time and it takes tasting enough sickly sweet full frosting concoctions to realize there's something else out there that may look less appealing but is ultimately more satisfying.

Long live the cake.

Rain

It's raining this morning. A slow, steady rain that we've needed for weeks. It's so refreshing and soothing just to watch it come down.

Water

I was born in a drought year. That summer
my mother waited in the house, enclosed
in the sun and the dry ceaseless wind,
for the men to come back in the evenings,
bringing water from a distant spring.
veins of leaves ran dry, roots shrank.
And all my life I have dreaded the return
of that year, sure that it still is
somewhere, like a dead enemy’s soul. Fear
of dust in my mouth is always with me,
and I am the faithful husband of the rain,
I love the water of wells and springs
and the taste of roofs in the water of cisterns.
I am a dry man whose thirst is praise
of clouds, and whose mind is something of a cup.
My sweetness is to wake in the night
after days of dry heat, hearing the rain.

~ Wendell Berry

Summer

Summer is such a beautiful time, and this summer has been particularly gorgeous. The raspberry bushes that run the entire length of our back yard are in full bloom, little teeny peppers and green tomatoes are making their appearance in our garden, and at this very moment a bright red cardinal is peeking at me from the lawn. I love our little country oasis in the city. The weather has been fantastic this year, which is something to be said in a land where the weather is the ever-present source of complaint. Sure, we got off to a slow start and could use some rain but you won't hear a peep out of me. Just to be able to type ala picnic table, taking in the evening breeze (ok, and the rumble of low-flying jets) is a dream come true.

I feel a little conflicted tonight in the midst of all this summer beauty. I'm in the middle of a job search process, which always brings out demons of self-worth, identity, and ultimate purpose, and doing it (again) in the middle of a rather sluggish economy. (What is with my picking such terrible economic times to graduate? My last great job search was in '02 when the post 9/11 woes had hit full stride.) So, I'm questioning my purpose and trying to balance my idealist and realist sides. I would like to make some sort of difference in the world. Always have. And not in the over idealistic "I'm going to change the world"sort of way. I'm a little too logical for that. But in the purposeful "I'm going to get some skills and figure out how to do something worthwhile and meaningful and hopefully be able to support myself doing it" kind of way. The problem seems to be the folks in charge of the non-profit variety of "worthwhile and meaningful" don't seem to value the financial investment in skills it takes to have something to contribute, while the folks in the public sector variety seem to want to hold you under water until maybe you forget how to do something worthwhile and meaningful once you have the opportunity. So, do you take a deep breath and hold it until you're in a place where you can come up for air? Do you find out you can actually breathe under water and there's a whole new world under there where you can make a difference? Do you set aside your investments of time and money to contribute to the cause? Does that ultimately leave you better or worse off? There's opportunity but also a gamble either way. And I know it might be easy to say, "Forget the salary if it's satisfying." But there's something to be said for having something to invest in other ways of making a difference beyond your own position of employment. On the other hand, the people I admire most are those who live out their passion and talents despite great personal sacrifice. It's hard to know what compromises are ok to make. I realize this is a little overly gloomy for such a lovely summer evening, but, man, even with some good irons in the fire this process can suck the breath out of you. I'm trying not to wrap my identity too much around my place of employment, but it's hard not to confuse what I do with who I am.

So, sunlight and tumult. It's summer in Minnesota again, with all its brilliance and beauty, along with its occasional thunderstorm.

My Friend Tim

"Tim's been down for the count over the past few days with a herniated disc in his back. It's been difficult to watch him go through this. The hardest part is knowing I can't make the pain go away. I can pray for him and support him through it, but I can't fix it. "- I started writing this post way back in May when Tim's back first became unendurable. It's been 14 weeks since his surgery now and I've seen him walk through things this summer that I wish no one had to endure. What made me first want to write this post is still true though, 3 1/2 months later: in walking through this pain together, our friendship has grown deeper and more true. I love him with everything I have and I am so blessed to have the privilege of calling him my friend along with my love.