focus

One of my mentors-but-he-doesn’t-actually-know-it-because-we’ve-never-met is Father Greg Boyle. Father Boyle is the founder of Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles, "the largest gang intervention, rehab and re-entry program in the world." He’s also the author of Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion, and is the very funny keynote speaker at the 2018 commencement exercises at Pepperdine University (seriously, you should give it a watch). And I think when it comes to the subject of kinship, there is no wiser voice in today’s world, and I am so grateful for it.

I’ve been thinking about Father Boyle a lot lately, not just because I’m writing a book on kinship and communal compassion, but also because … well, sometimes I get a bit discouraged. See, as of this month, I’ve been writing long form on the internet — either on my old blog or now here on Substack — for twenty-two years. I’ve always tried to make anything I write online a source of joy and light; in fact, I’ve really made a conscious commitment to doing so. But the truth is that when the current presidential administration was elected into office (both times), I’ve had a few bitter spells. I’m not proud of this, but I’ve occasionally found myself asking why I should continue sharing uplifting thoughts online. I feel like I’d spent so many years trying to help people understand the uncommon beauty of the world around them — not to mention the uncommon beauty of readers themselves, of all races, nationalities, religions, cultures, sexual orientations and gender identifications, and so much more — and yet so many people in America voted for a person who was antithetical to everything I’ve tried for my work to be. Twice. I’m clearly incredibly naïve, I think to myself. I’m sharing this goodness, and really, no one gives a damn. And in my mind, I wonder if people no longer care: far more interesting is watching willful cruelty, or ridicule, or mockery, or debasement. No one has time for light.

But recently I remembered the end of Father Boyle’s book, Tattoos on the Heart, and I realize how wrong my reasons for writing have been.

Father Boyle, in the second-to-last chapter of the book, tackles the idea of “success.” He said that while he understood why everyone — particularly potential donors to Homeboy Industries — wants to hear success stories (because who doesn’t?), he doesn’t have much time for them. He goes through a long discussion about why they don’t matter, but ultimately, his point was this:

You don’t focus on doing the right thing because of the results that may follow.
You focus on doing the right thing because it’s the right thing to do.

You're kind because being kind counts.  You celebrate compassion because being compassionate counts.  And you seek kinship and practice empathy and care for one another because, dammit, it counts. 

I remember that my despondency at the fact that my words haven’t changed the world is misplaced at best, and arrogant at worst. The point of my work should never have been to change anyone’s mind (although if it helps make people connect with stories they wouldn’t otherwise encounter, or consider the power of their own light, that is a lovely result). The point of my work should be to just keep making light. Whether traffic or subscriptions grow or drop is really irrelevant. The act of continuing to attempt to put good in the world might just be purpose enough.

I just need to remember to focus.

I share this (potentially embarrassing) admission publicly here because I think we could all do with a reminder to focus. Understand that much of what we see online that captures our attention — including the ridiculous reactions to the prospect of an extraordinary performer at the Super Bowl singing in Spanish or even the profoundly racist social media posts of the U.S. president — is meant to distract us from our actual work. It’s not that these things don’t require us to hold people to account — they absolutely do — but I suspect that the folks doing horrible things are counting on our knee-jerk reactions to distract us from the actual work of holding them accountable. They want us to be lost in our spiraling despair and forget about the work of creating a world where that behaviour is unthinkable.

Will our work be successful? I have no idea. But honestly, that’s not the point.

The point is we keep doing the work — the making light, the communal compassion, the power-move-kindness, and, yes, the holding accountable — because it’s the right thing to do.

Because firmly maintaining the boundaries of communal compassion and power-move kindness, making light, and even holding accountable those who would impede our goal of interconnected living, makes us better global citizens.  Bad Bunny's performance at the Super Bowl halftime show yesterday proves it.

And that, in itself, should be enough.