Woody Allen nailed it when he said: “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.” Thousands of travelers who are waiting to get on an airplane would agree. Not since 9/11 has air traffic been so disrupted.

It is all about control, or rather the lack of it. We go about the business of living with the assumption that we are in control of our actions. We plan trips and schedule business meetings with the assumption that we will be able to follow our plans through to fruition. Then a volcano in a remote part of Iceland with a name that we cannot possibly pronounce erupts, and poof it all changes.

So what is to be learned from this. Probably the most important lesson is that we should hold our plans lightly. Change can occur at any moment in time, and so our plans are not cast in stone. We are in control and not in control–simultaneously. Perhaps this simple truth is what causes the chuckle from the Universe.

Sometimes I read or see something that immediately takes me back into my memory banks. When this happens, I become aware of how much happens in the course of life. I notice how I adjust to the now and easily forget the lessons of the past. At times like this I remember how the lessons of history are taught over and over again, for history recycles until we get it!!!

Last night I watched a documentary on the making of Hair, a musical that jolted the world. Hair was the musical icon of the huge social revolution that began in the ‘60’s. Its fallout continued for years. It was a complicated time, deeply affected by the sexual revolution created by the pill—yet before the devastation of AIDS. It was a time when war in Vietnam tore apart the fabric of the nation–resulting in the end of the draft. It was the time of Martin Luther King, when the entire fabric of the society changed—resulting in a nation where all can participate in ways we never could have imagined. It was a time when many of us believed that we become the ideal society, that this was really possible.

Well, history has shown that we have brought some of our dreams to fruition, but many of the hopes have become tattered and worn. We still have an endless supply of things to fight about. We have learned the hard way that there is a price to be paid for some of the freedoms that we cherish. Probably most importantly we have learned that change is slow and laborious. I guess that we still need to recycle our dreams for the future in the hope that someday we will truly get it!!

I suspect that half the country was glued to the tube last night watching as the health care bill went through the voting process. It was a long and acrimonious struggle, and we will not understand the full impact of the decision for years to come. However, we have finally decided. Today is the day after, and it is time to move on.

I have grown to appreciate the strong feelings on both side of the issue—something that is not always easy for me. I can appreciate both the hope and the fear that has been expressed by so many so vocally. Yet right now, my main desire is that we can move on and begin to implement change that is so dearly needed. My personal hope is that the underlying divisiveness that surfaced as the debate unfolded can now be put to rest, and that we can embrace a choice to move in a new direction.

We cannot forget that our nation has been built on a platform of justice and fairness. Bringing the desire into reality has often been a messy process, but somehow we have always managed to get there. So as we face the new day this morning, let’s remember that there is great power in choice. We have decided!! Not, let’s get to work and see what we can create of that decision.

Who among us doesn’t need an occasional dose of instant gratification? You can’t see it, but I just raised my hand. Sometimes I just want a completely self indulgent moment where I really cut loose. Nothing feels quite like it. It really makes my day.

Moments of instant gratification have notoriously bad press. A cigarette is bad for the lungs, alcohol for the liver, and coffee for the nerves. Sugar in chocolate can lead to diabetes. Shopping does a number on the pocket book, and salt in potato chips doesn’t do much for us either. It seems that everything that gives a momentary rush of pleasure has a downside. Then, miracle of miracles, something new appeared on the horizon, something that seems to solve the problem and give instant gratification. It’s called social networking.

I can speak to the world now, and announce where I am, what I am doing, and how I feel about it all. What a rush!!! My audience is everywhere, and they just might be listening. I can tweet, send pictures, podcasts, and videos. Wow!! What instant gratification. The problem for me is that it just doesn’t do the job. It doesn’t provide me with nearly the sinful pleasure that comes when I take my first bite and taste that bittersweet smoothness. Twitter will never do it for me. The instant gratification that comes from that first bite of sweet dark chocolate. Now that will!!!

Tiger just apologized! You’d think that would be enough, but it just doesn’t seem to work out that way. Once someone becomes a celebrity they seem to leave the world of ordinary people behind and cross over into strange land where the rules change and everyone owns a piece of them. I’m not condoning Tiger’s actions, but I do believe that what he does with his life belongs to him and his family and is not owned by the rest of us just because he is a hot item for the media. My opinion has no relevance when it come to the decisions he makes and the way he plays out his life.

So what really bothers me about this? Perhaps it is related to the way our beliefs and attitudes have changed because there is such intimate and instant coverage of the lives of others. We get pulled into a microscopic and voyeuristic watching. We begin to feel involved in some way–almost as though our feelings and opinions should be heard, acknowledged, and acted upon by the celebrity figure. That’s just not true.

We are not part of the lives of strangers who are the object of media coverage. They are not part of our own family and community where we truly give and receive the gifts of sharing and caring. Here is where our opinion really matters. This is where we actually make a difference. Let’s not misplace these real opportunities to give and receive by being sidetracked by the lives of the rich and famous. Your presence and mine really doesn’t make a great deal of difference in the circle of people that are not part of our lives. I hope that I never forget that!! So, Tiger I wish you well!!

We cannot help but to be moved by the outpouring of compassionate giving in response to the earthquake in Haiti. It is indicative of our spirit of giving. We are good that way. We respond quickly and are generous in seeking to meet the urgent needs of a devastated country. We mobilize to get things done, and we feel good about it. We are very responsive when it comes to short-term compassion.

But then we forget and move on to the next disaster that is receiving coverage. So often now, it is media coverage that evokes our compassion. We respond quickly and do it in good conscience. We feel satisfied that we have done our best to help. We forget that rebuilding a nation takes time. We forget that some of the most serious needs will surface months later, and that human suffering continues. We forget that some wounds never heal and last for a lifetime.

Why do we move on so quickly to the next cause and abandon our natural compassionate nature? The answer may be found in the way we have learned to respond to media coverage. Media reporters are often the first responders. They bring us the scenes of devastation. We see and respond to images of collapsed buildings, bodies shrouded in the streets, and the cries of the injured and dying. We follow the camera and try to move fast in our response to the immediate need. We want to quickly solve problems and have them disappear, and are tempted to avoid causes that have few or complex answers. We move on, and then we forget.

So, let us remember that compassion is also a virtue of the long run. We may be called to stay the course until the work is complete, and the families cope with loss and finally heal. We may need to see the new rise from the rubble of the old. Then, and only then do we allow ourselves access to compassion’s true gift. The giver learns to receive. Perhaps that is what compassion is all about.