As I was riding in my car, I had the thought, “I don’t even know how I see things.”

I see things some way, and I see what I see, but what if my seeing is like being in a projector room, and I’m the projector?  

I talked to Danny for an hour yesterday after he got back from Quatar (which is actually spelled Qatar). They don’t even follow the rule about having a u after q. And they stone gay people. Danny said, “They are in a completely foreign context–everything they do is in service to God, but not like what you think that means.”

Again, I can’t even see that I don’t know what that means. Even after I am told I don’t know, and hearing what it REALLY means and thinking I get what it means, I still don’t get it. In Qatar, it is like every day all day is being in church, but still not quite. If, as a Qatari, you saw a movie, you would not say that was a good movie; you would say God is so great that He allowed me to enjoy that movie and He created it for my enjoyment.

I keep getting it, and getting it that I truly don’t get it. I look over at my wife who doesn’t see child rearing the same way I do, and everything I say is from how I see it. And most of what I think to say to her about child rearing will either make her mad or make her feel I am making her wrong. The landmines are everywhere.

I keep trying to be OUT HERE, in the world with people, speaking from my commitment versus my upset or opinion or desire to be right about something. It helps me to keep on wondering where I see things from–which provides an access to that sweet spring of curiosity that I am parched for the taste of, an endless reservoir of “you don’t know squat” that I can go to whenever I am absolutely, positively right — and stuck because of it.