FOR OR AGAINST, WHERE DOES YOUR LOYALTY LIE?
“You’re either ‘fer’ it, or ‘agin’ it,” said the cattle rancher to the cowboy.
That kind of thinking is great for the plot of old westerns. In fact, black and white, no gray area allowed conflict is the ideal plot for most stories. It makes it easy for the audience by giving a clear choice of who to root for. It separates the world into good guys and bad guys.
Sporting events do this too, except there are no good guys and bad guys. There are just two opposing teams. The fans get to make their own judgment of which team is “good” and which is “bad.” But make no mistake, the loyalties run just as fierce.
Loyalty is another one of those dual-edged swords. On the face of it, loyalty gets lumped into the “good characteristic” side. It offers the assurance that when the chips are down, we can count on that loyalty to come to our rescue.
You might be in a normal family situation where you, your parents, your siblings, your kids, and maybe an assortment of spouses get on each other’s nerves. Sometimes you even drive each other crazy. But, when a crisis occurs, the bond among you activates your loyalty. You all rally around a common purpose.
It’s comforting to know we have a support group where, aside from petty jealousies and momentary judgments, we can rely on that network. Yes, that’s certainly a “good” thing.
But what about the flip side of that? Blind loyalty can create severe consequences.
Absolute, unquestioning devotion to something like the Nazi ideology led to the Holocaust and plunged a huge portion of the world into war. Absolute loyalty toward ideologies held in Rwanda led to the near genocide of the Tutsis.
On a grand scale, blind loyalty creates massive devastation. But similar results occur daily on a much smaller scale. Loyalty toward two friends can put you in the middle when a disagreement arises between them. You may be forced to choose one over the other. I can also guarantee that loyalty to personal dogmatic beliefs was what led to the last argument you had with someone special.
So, the “bad” edge of that loyalty sword also cuts us from time to time. Then is it best to give up on loyalty altogether? Is loyalty another thing that you have to either be for or against?
We’d love for everything to be so clear cut, but nothing ever is. Loyalty, like everything else, must be approached mindfully. There is no “one size fits all.”
Loyalty certainly gives us direction when we’re either feeling lost or when we’re with someone else who is in need of a helping hand. But, we must assess each situation to consciously decide how best to show our loyalty.
Is the person who seeks our loyalty backed into a situation by fear or comes to it through honest need? Sometimes the best way we can show loyalty is stay true to our core values, even if it means not supporting an ally in the way they expect. Blind loyalty creates very real possibilities for destruction.
I guess I’m more ‘fer’ loyalty than ‘agin’ it. So, saddle up partner. I see a sunset that needs riding into.
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!BORN TO WHINE – PART 1
Whine Rule No. 1: Whine Like You Mean It
Some of us have to learn to whine to be any good at it. Others are natural-born whiners. I’m in the latter category.
My introduction to whining started in the womb. I’m lucky I inherited two full sets of whining genes from my parents. Those genes got expressed in a big way. So I was a natural at practicing prenatal whine skills. I scrunched my face and balled my hands into tight, little fists.
As I continued my fetal development, I kicked as all babies do. But I really put my back into it. It was fun bouncing off the walls of my tiny home. I practiced somersaults and other evasive maneuvers I’d need, post-natal, when my whining got on someone’s nerves.
When it was time to be born, I braced my arms and legs in protest. But it was no use. I was ejected forcefully from my peaceful existence. I was messy and wet, and had myself a good cry about it. I discovered I had lungs! Now I could whine in earnest.
As an infant, I quickly learned that crying at a certain frequency for a certain length of time summoned Mommy with a bottle. In addition to feeding me, she’d change my diaper, hold me, and make comforting noises, which was very nice.
Sometimes my crying got out of control. I couldn’t help it. I was a baby. Then Daddy came with the fake-nipple thing and stuck it in my mouth. Sometimes he’d change my diaper. Sometimes I peed on him. Then he’d get upset. But hey, I wasn’t mad — just getting even.
I learned crying was a great tool. Intensifying it at just the right time discouraged that scary Auntie lady from leaning over my crib. Hysteria has its uses.
As a young toddler, I began to understand I wouldn’t always get what I cried for. On the other hand, a strategically introduced whimper or wail could produce results. And learning to progress from least to most obnoxious technique was important. That way, the pressure to act intensified accordingly.
So instead of crying my head off for more Happy-O’s cereal, I whimpered a warning volley (stage one). Then I stretched my chubby fingers imploringly toward the cereal box and whined (stage two). When that didn’t work, I uttered a loud, blood-curdling wail (stage three).
Mommy rushed over and shoved some Happy-O’s into my mouth. The cat and Daddy ran in opposite directions.
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!
