putting disagreements in perspective: miniature gulf

In both career and personal relationships, how often do disagreements come up—problems

of interpretation or perspective, of contracts or property—that cause significant setbacks? How often does the divide seem irreconcilable, the gulf not bridgeable?

Take a moment, though, to consider the broader perspective. Are your days filled with

humility and gratitude, or does pride take center stage? Are you graced with intelligence and good health, with skills and resources? If so, is this or that issue really so important for you

to fight over? Is it worth the stress hormones and loss of sleep?

The University of Southern California's Center for Excellence in Teaching echoes the widespread benefits of embracing conflict: "Defining and refuting opposing viewpoints makes it much easier for students to generate oral or written arguments. In fact, the issues that are the least contentious (e.g., "Poverty is bad") can be the most difficult to sustain in discussion. Issues appropriate to the university level are the ones with the most complexity, the most disagreement. Recognizing the validity and even the necessity of other viewpoints is central to the mission of a college education."

Make no mistake: When it comes to matters of education, of health, of the well-being of loved ones, of consequences of far-reaching import, fight for your integrity with all of the calories at your disposal.

Yet how often do the day-to-day conflicts rise to those levels? Are the few extra dollars or public prominence fought for really worth it? Is winning that argument truly worth sacrificing health and humility? How many disputes really matter? Does the satisfaction of winning the occasional contretemps do much more than cushion the ego?

Do take that moment. Consider the broader perspective. Then don’t be afraid to admit how relatively small, even miniature, that conflict. What separates us pales next to what brings us close. Think about it. That wide gulf may be little more than a drop in the ocean.

lost in technology: manual transmission

Births, weddings and funerals tend to be when the home phone rings most often, when the mailbox

swells with congratulatory or sympathy cards. Yet when was the last time you received a phone call or handwritten card in the wake of a new job or promotion, a positive doctor’s report, the start of summer? These and dozens of other of life’s joys to be celebrated and shared may be acknowledged with a quick text or email, but the personal touch beyond the screen and processor appears to have become as rare as rush-hour patience on I-95.

The ongoing wonders of technology aside, it can be all too easy to type keys and push buttons, to save the extra five or 10 minutes that a card would take to write (let alone mail) or a call to be spoken (let alone dial). But why? We relish going out to restaurants and breaking bread together. We enjoy watching movies together. We love traveling together. We eagerly anticipate spending the night together. The notion that we have largely become a society of isolation and solitude is absurd in light of full restaurants, full movie theaters, full airplanes, full hotels. Then why is it so difficult to communicate on a regular basis—those beyond our immediate household—with the same kind of personal interaction and response?

Aaron Sachs, a professor of American studies and history at Cornell University, echoes many sociologists and historians when he observes, “One of the ironies for me is that everyone talks about electronic media bringing people closer together, and I think this is a way we wind up more separate. We don’t have the intimacy that we have when we go to the attic and read grandma’s letters.” Yet the happiness that causes an addressee to smile when seeing a handwritten card in the mailbox rather than yet another bill from the phone, electric and credit-card companies is palpable and engenders the kind of intimacy and care rarely possible with that thousandth email or this hundredth text. Likewise with a personal phone call without myriad agendas, the sole purpose of which is to share a few heartfelt moments of fellowship and friendship, of attachment and affection.

Take a moment to dial those numbers or write down those thoughts by hand. Transmit your feelings manually rather than electronically. Fulfillment on both sides of the stamp or receiver is rarely far behind.