Radically Happy

I am walking my dogs Qhuinn and Frolic on their yoke leash, as usual.
I pass a bit of small dog poop.
I wonder if I should pick it up.

This is not a simple question…

This is my neighborhood.
I walk it twice a day.
It is my practice to pickup poop I see along the way.
Partly to be a good citizen.
Partly due to reciprocal guilt, since I’m not always paying close attention and may miss when my dog’s do their business.

But this seems a slightly different part of town.
Residential.
Mostly multi-family apartments.
And a narrow street.

And there’s more poop ahead.
It seems to get more frequent.
Larger.
Messier.

This changes things.
It feels good to pickup one or two pieces of poop, to help the community.
But this is different.
It is an open-ended project with no clear end.

Worse, I have the bad habit of combining good intentions with poor attention.
Specifically, I periodically step in poop while volunteering to clean it up.
[This is such a great metaphor for how I paradigmatically get myself in trouble, by sloppily trying to do the right thing, that I call it “doing an Ernie.”]

I find myself annoyed with the residents here.
It is one thing to pickup poop near a large business.
Since there’s no clear owner, it is understandable that nobody takes responsibility.
They’re just passing through.

But if there’s this much poop here,
it implies the people who live by here walk past it multiple times per day.
And do nothing.
Like they don’t care.
Or have learned not to see it anymore.

Or maybe.
Like me.
They are afraid to start something they can’t finish.

I find myself anxious.
It is dangerous to draw attention to a problem people are trying to unsee.

I have learned the hard way that people do not thank me for trying to solve their problems unasked.
They have convinced themselves those problems cannot be solved.
That it’s just the way things are.
And it’s not their fault.
Nobody could do any different.

If I shatter that illusion
It implies they were wrong
And all that latent shame
From doing nothing
Comes pouring out

And they have to redirect it onto me
In order to survive
By mocking my efforts
Or invalidating my questions.

[This is where it gets weird]

The only way I can overcome this
Is by adopting a superhero identity.

That way
People can easily excuse themselves
For their inaction

They are not gods
It is not their fault

But this comes with its own odd problems.

Apparently I literally assume the appearance of an actual superhero.

Which — say, if Batman — makes me into a terrifying vigilante.
Or — if Wonder Woman — borders on sexual harassment
—Whether or not this is an accurate portrayal
This is how I feel about the church.

I feel an obligation to clean up messes
Especially since I know I contribute

But sometimes it feels part of a shame spiral.
With no good way forward.

This may have been triggered by a conversation yesterday about how we need to “see others with Grace” versus “seeing through the eyes of the Law.”
This may be the most subtle, pressing, and deadly issue in the church.
And in me.

I also wonder whether it is related to the prophecy I received last Sunday, that I would “one-shot” the giant(s) I face…