"HAITI ISN'T READY FOR DEMOCRACY"

That's what the Haitian lady said on the bus, the one who is from Cap Haitien but who has lived in Atlanta for 25 years. She grew up in Haiti under the Duvalier reign and reported that it was wonderful. What we hear in the US are the reports and rumors of the reign of terror of Papa Doc and Baby Doc, how they would simply kill those they thought were any sort of threat, how the voice of the people was squelched and silenced. But what she experienced was a life of peace and security, where "I could walk on any street, at any time of day, and feel safe, where we didn't lock our doors and had plenty to eat." Her view is that Haiti still needs someone to tell the people what to do, someone strong and bossy, like a dictator.

It brings up the puzzling question of who knows what is right for another, whether that Other is a child, a nation, or any group of people. We Americans believe with fervor in the superiority of democratic government, in a nation run by and for the people. It seems perfectly obvious that such a form of government is better than any sort led by a king or a tsar or a dictator. Whenever too much power rests in the hands of just one person, or a small group of people, there is the very real danger of corruption. And "enemies" often die.

But what if our Haitian friend is right? What if you have to grow into democracy, reach a certain level of self-confidence and maturity as a people before you can trust yourselves to govern your own nation? We don't give two-year-olds the same governing rights as eighteen-year-olds. Maybe nations are not much different than children.

The real question then becomes,"Who, then, should govern the nation? Who has the right to impose their own brand of "good government" on a developing country?" I am the furthest thing from a political analyst, but I can see this playing out all over the globe. I'm a fervent believer in democracy, too, but I understand the anger of some groups of people toward Americans, because we certainly look to be trying to democratize the world, to push our own values without real regard for other systems of thought. Sometimes we use guns and tanks to do it. I'm not suggesting we're wrong to try to bring something better to struggling nations. I'm just saying we can't stand there scratching our heads in perplexity when they don't welcome us with open arms.

But I digress into areas about which I am distinctly unqualified to comment. It's just that her verdict about her own home country of Haiti intriqued me and set me wondering.

What do you think?

HAITI

I know some of you are curious about my recent trip to Haiti. Sue Osborne, my longtime friend and traveling companion is blogging up a storm about it, so rather than be redundant, I'm sending you to her blog here: http://nostalgic-nana.blogspot.com/ to get a good idea of our trip. We shared my camera since Sue forgot her charger, so all the pictures she's posting are "ours".

My trip was all kinds of awesome. A curious observation: there in Haiti, with only sporadic power and water (and never hot running water, my very favorite thing), on a diet of rice and beans, sleeping in bits and fits under a mosquito net -- I was deeply happy every single moment. I don't know if it was the slower pace, the back-to-basics lifestyle, the incredible team of people working so tirelessly and selflessly for the good of others, the lush beauty of the Haitian mountain country, or getting sticky and dirty with soil and varnish and sweat and service every day -- but whatever it was, I experienced it as a gift, precious and unexpected. Misty, a volunteer student midwife from Arizona, summed it up thusly, "This has been a time of healing for me here in Haiti." Though I didn't even know I was so broken, that's exactly how Haiti felt for me.

The guidebook begins, "Haiti will capture your heart" and that, too, proved true. Poor as poor gets, with problems that span centuries, Haiti nonetheless speaks to something real and little acknowledged in our soul, some sense of deep connection -- to the earth and to each other, some inarticulate truth that settles and stays, even here at home, hidden away in our hearts. I know I'm not alone in this experience. I can't even tell how it will show up in my life; it's so foreign to my American mindset. I feel it like a latent disease, and it may in fact manifest as dis-ease, leading to action, or it may simply rest in me forever as a touchstone of truth.

Haiti has my heart, at any rate.

PASSION

I'm reading a book by Tracy Kidder called "Mountains Beyond Mountains" about a doctor named Paul Farmer who is a major player in the fight for equitable health care around the world. His passion is the people of Haiti and the poor everywhere; his tireless work both amazes and inspires me and trips my guilt-o-meter. I remember feeling the same way when I read about Albert Schweitzer when I was a kid.

And I've been watching some TV: the movie "A Beautiful Mind" about schizophrenic John Nash, whose passion for math has impacted much of our modern business; a PBS special about a scientist from Papua New Guinea who passionately pursues (in the field) the study of the various species of Birds of Paradise; another PBS show about a guy who at 15 years old, decided to make his life work the saving of the kahou bird in Bermuda, thought to be extinct for 300 years.

I love people of passion. I could name many more examples, and so could you. Now, here's my problem. I consider myself (accurately, I believe) a passionate person. But I can't figure out how people can concentrate for a whole lifetime on just one thing, how that one thing can fuel their passion so. Or so it seems.

I've always had this problem. Which is why, in college, I was elated to discover that Humanities was a major, that I could study language and music and art and philosophy and culture all under one banner. And now, decades later, I can get all fired up to save the birds or the children or the local library or the gifted program or the homebound elderly or the mamas and babies of Haiti or anything else that captures my attention in the moment. But I can't seem to maintain a focused energy long enough to do the kind of work that so many are doing in the world, running small (or large) charities and foundations, serving long missions, giving their lives to serving the truly needy.

I'm not trying to denigrate the small good I do in my own life; it just seems so paltry when I learn of some of the things other passionate people are doing in the world. I'm headed to Haiti for a week, to volunteer in a birth clinic. I'm excited and happy to serve. But I'm carrying some guilt, too, that at the end of the week, I can leave. Most of the people of Haiti, those stuck in grinding, life-sapping poverty, have no such option. The injustice and inequity of it pricks my soul. And there are those who come to help and who stay, sometimes for years, like Paul Farmer or the good folks on the post-earthquake ground of Haiti, who have more time and freedom than I, because I've chosen to focus my service in my home.

But do they also have more passion? I fear I am lacking a larger vision for my life. I wonder why I am always so moved by stories of do-gooders, why I have always felt called to such a life, why I'm not living that life more fully. It's a constant personal conflict, this acknowledgement that what I do and how I live is, in fact, one manifestation of a life of passion and love, contrasted with this pull to larger circles of service. I worry that I've grown lazy, that I wouldn't be able to answer a call to larger service, despite my theoretical passion, that I've buried talents to the point of atrophy. I worry that my passion for such things is really a mask for ego. I worry that I may be ignoring opportunities in my own sphere of influence by focusing beyond the mark. I worry that I'll never figure this all out.

In the meantime, I'm headed to Haiti, with my sincere passion to help, with my worry and my guilt. Prayers are welcome. So are donations. Please check out www.mamababyhaiti.org to find out about the organization I'll be with. They are perfect examples of passionate,compassionate service.

WHY I CHOOSE JESUS

I learn from many of the great teachers of humanity. This year I am studying the Tao te Ching in depth. My yoga practice is deepening me. I love to read wise writers like M. Scott Peck and Shakti Gawain and Wayne Dyer, because they point me to God.

And that's the difference between all these great spiritual leaders and Jesus. Jesus doesn't just point me to God by his teachings and his example. He brings me directly to God. He is the only one able to take me back Home.

I'm an all or nothing sort of girl. If I ask for a glass of water, I want a full glass. If I've any leanings toward personal fulfillment, I want to take it all the way. I'm not interested in half measures.

And that is why I m a disciple of Jesus Christ. He is not a man of half measures. He takes it all the way. He will take me all the way, if I but let him. I am fully aware that I can't perfect myself on my own. I am grateful for fellow travelers who share their light in word and deed, who sometimes give their life for Truth.

Jesus did more than give his life for Truth. Somehow he reconciled our sorry little souls with God. It is in us to become gods. We are the children of God, after all. But I don't need to tell you how far from the goal we all are.

Others give me tips for the journey. Jesus walks with me all the way and waves his magic Jedi hand at every obstacle. I don't profess to understand it. But I trust him completely. So on we go, Jesus and me.