This post finds me at my local corporate bookstore. I happened across a book titled, The Christian Delusion edited by John Loftus (author of Why I Became An Atheist). The book is a compilation of essays by various scholars (of various fields) about the implausibility of Christian belief. I have worked through the introduction and the first two essays in a semi-comfy green striped chair. I will have to return to my studies shortly, but the book has provided a good intermission. I also thought I might post a short blog about the book. What caught my attention about this work is that the so many of its contributors would consider themselves to have been at one time "believers."
The first essay was by an anthropologist and the second by a psychologist. To be honest, the former didn't peak much interest in me. The author essentially argued that some religions become cultures in that doctrines infiltrate every part of a persons life. This in turn is thought to make it more difficult for adherents of such coteries to obtain any amount of objectivity when assessing their beliefs. Instead of viewing religion as a crutch, the writer argued that religion is the very lens through which people interact with reality. I honestly can't understand how this was much of a contribution to academia. Ok, so people tend to be biased. No kidding... Perhaps I was hoping for too much from this guy...
The second essay on the other hand was a bit more intriguing. Its author considers a psychological explanation to the phenomena of "religious experiences" and "born again encounters." To be fair, he doesn't provide much scientific data, but rather recounts anecdotal evidence.
But before he gets into the gist of his argument some time is spent talking about just how irrational people tend to be according to the field of psychology. Again this is merely anecdotal, but it isn't very difficult for me to believe him. More specifically he points out that people will tend to accept beliefs based on feelings or sentiments rather than for good reasons (and often despite). In other words, people tend to express an irrational epistemology. Of course, this is a general statement that applies to all. Further it isn't a claim of necessity (that is people aren't necessarily always going to be irrational).
The next point was more interesting and had to do with "religious experiences." When believers are pressed for justification for their belief in an invisible God they often report having some personal, supernatural encounter. These experiences are phenomenal in that they are "felt" and such subjectivity is thought to be proof enough. The psychologist offers an interesting argument to repudiate such a view which is that these phenomenal experiences can be explained another way. What is more, he argues that a simpler psychological explanation can suffice to account for such experiences. In the philosophical and scientific communities there is such a thing called the principle of Parsimony. It is often overstated and presumptive but the general idea isn't super controversial. In essence, parsimony requires that when provided with two proposed explanations for a phenomena all things considered (that is, provided that the two proposals account for the phenomena equally well) then we ought to go with the simpler of the two. This often means that we shouldn't multiply entities beyond necessity. I have my qualms about parsimony but I think when applied well it is useful. Maybe an illustration of its application may help.
Suppose I hear a knocking sound on my front door which is not possible to see through. Not being able to see the cause of the sound I can hypothesize that a person is on the other side of the door causing the noise or I can posit that a mystical creature like an elf from some clandestine land is the cause. The latter requires me to make a further ontological commitment namely, the existence of some mystical being while the former does not (presumably people do exist). Both could equally explain the noise on my door of course, but one is simpler than the other. It is by this principle that the author of the essay in question concludes that "religious experiences" should not be accepted as proof in the existence of God. I think this is a strong argument against anyone who argues from religious experience alone to the existence of God. Such an argument would go something like this (and should make you cringe):
1) I had a esoteric, out of this world experience of God's presence.
2) Therefore, God must exist.
It is by all accounts a pretty terrible argument but I am sorry to say I hear it a lot among believers.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Dwelling in Darkness
I should be asleep, but I am restless for some reason. I stayed up all evening into the early morning working on a paper for my History of Modern Philosophy class and thus I am going on very few hours of sleep. I suppose the writing of this blog, the subtle hum of the hard drive mixed with the sound of the tiny clicks that result from my key strokes and the silence of another day turning over will soon make heavy my eyelids...
I went outside to write on the patio because I thought it would be perfect on a night like this. But that lasted about 2 minutes. It was too cold outside. The idea of it was better than the actuality and I suppose that much of our lives are this way. We romanticize things, pursue them with all our might only to find that we are met with disappointment. Perhaps it is for this reason that some have resorted to enjoying the anticipation of an event more than the actual event; like the preparation of a trip over the trip itself.
This evening ended with a conversation that I had with my friend Chad. We talked a bit about how it is that we as humans tend to imprison ourselves. He likened it to a prisoner that find himself in Alcatraz today; despite the open cells and the constant visiting of tourists, such a person is deluded into thinking that he cannot leave. I thought that was an interesting metaphor; a true one. I have been thinking a great deal about the reason why such phenomenon occur, that is, why do we continue to keep ourselves shackled to our old, desparate ways of life? Or why are we so slow to change for the good?
At church our pastor often teaches about the reality of self deception and self justification in our lives. Scripture is saturated with examples. That is to say:
In our conversation we talked about how we hate the light just like it says in the prologue to John's gospel. Katie and I had a discussion about this the other day also. The gospel writer says that the word became flesh and dwelt among us, and that it was the light of nature. Further, those in darkness hated this light because of what it exposed. I have this picture in my mind of cave dwellers who know of nothing better than their dark, dingy, holes of earth. Then as light is shined upon them, it exposes just what a hole it is that they are living in. But instead of heading toward the truth (the light), it is as if the inhabitants simply shut their eyes, turn around and move only further into the depths of their depravity... but it just doesn't make sense why we respond in this manner. It is after all, a cave. It might be a different matter if we were flourishing; but we aren't.
It is incredible that I continue to hate the light and that I run from it. To add insult to injury, what I run to is worthless. This is our nature the depravity of sin in our lives. We are disgusted by what is beautiful and enticed by what is foul. Who can save us from this body of death?
I went outside to write on the patio because I thought it would be perfect on a night like this. But that lasted about 2 minutes. It was too cold outside. The idea of it was better than the actuality and I suppose that much of our lives are this way. We romanticize things, pursue them with all our might only to find that we are met with disappointment. Perhaps it is for this reason that some have resorted to enjoying the anticipation of an event more than the actual event; like the preparation of a trip over the trip itself.
This evening ended with a conversation that I had with my friend Chad. We talked a bit about how it is that we as humans tend to imprison ourselves. He likened it to a prisoner that find himself in Alcatraz today; despite the open cells and the constant visiting of tourists, such a person is deluded into thinking that he cannot leave. I thought that was an interesting metaphor; a true one. I have been thinking a great deal about the reason why such phenomenon occur, that is, why do we continue to keep ourselves shackled to our old, desparate ways of life? Or why are we so slow to change for the good?
At church our pastor often teaches about the reality of self deception and self justification in our lives. Scripture is saturated with examples. That is to say:
"The heart above all things is deceitful and desperately wicked." - Jeremiah 17:9
In our conversation we talked about how we hate the light just like it says in the prologue to John's gospel. Katie and I had a discussion about this the other day also. The gospel writer says that the word became flesh and dwelt among us, and that it was the light of nature. Further, those in darkness hated this light because of what it exposed. I have this picture in my mind of cave dwellers who know of nothing better than their dark, dingy, holes of earth. Then as light is shined upon them, it exposes just what a hole it is that they are living in. But instead of heading toward the truth (the light), it is as if the inhabitants simply shut their eyes, turn around and move only further into the depths of their depravity... but it just doesn't make sense why we respond in this manner. It is after all, a cave. It might be a different matter if we were flourishing; but we aren't.
It is incredible that I continue to hate the light and that I run from it. To add insult to injury, what I run to is worthless. This is our nature the depravity of sin in our lives. We are disgusted by what is beautiful and enticed by what is foul. Who can save us from this body of death?
Friday, April 2, 2010
Details
It is Good Friday. It is the day that we believers commemorate the trial and death of our Lord. I woke up this morning as if it were any other Friday barely getting myself out of bed. I went about my routine and attended class and nothing was too far out of the ordinary. I returned home this afternoon and fell asleep for a time as a result of the lack of sleep I have experienced for much of this week. As I woke, I realized that it was in fact a special day and found myself upset that I had so easily forgotten.
I brewed some coffee and went for a short drive only to get out of the apartment for a while and upon my return began reading Matthew’s gospel beginning in Christ’s last teachings before he is brought before the Sanhedrian. Here is the picture: Jesus has just shared a number of parables with his followers, all of which seem to be centered on being watchful and prepared for things to come. Then they proceed to Simon's house just before the last supper when an unidentified woman (John records her as Mary) anoints Christ with costly perfume. The disciples grumble that she has wasted money, which is something that I could easily imagine myself saying in their place. John records that it was Judas in fact that led this charge interestingly enough. The Lord’s response is instructive as usual; he challenges the disciple’s narrow pragmatism; they are missing something of vital importance.
Christ's explanation cut me like a knife. Matthew recounts the savior's words as thus: “When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial…” It seems then that she knows and believes what is to come, something even the disciples will struggle to understand. Christ must be crucified to fulfill the prophecies, to save the world; she fully anticipates it. John provides us the further detail that she washed his feet with her hair and I think this is a beautiful picture of her adoration for Jesus. She knows that he must die at the hands of men, that he must leave her and I don't imagine this was easy for her but perhaps she has the will of God in mind something that Peter will soon wrestle with. Again it appears that Mary has paid close attention to the details putting the disciples to shame. If you will recall this is the same Mary that sat at foot of Christ in a previous episode, listening intently to his words while her sister Martha was busy with preparations. Mary is said to have chosen the more valuable...
I missed the bulk of Good Friday because I was busy with business as usual. I am most interested in what this might reveal about my divided heart these days. Am I seeking to know God above all else? Is He my portion? No, I continue to wrestle with God. I continue to get entangled in the vain things of this world. I am more like the disciples at the garden of Gethsamane who in light of the fact that their Lord is in deep distress, and in light of all that is to come, with heavy eyelids keep falling asleep...
"Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." - Matthew 26:41
I brewed some coffee and went for a short drive only to get out of the apartment for a while and upon my return began reading Matthew’s gospel beginning in Christ’s last teachings before he is brought before the Sanhedrian. Here is the picture: Jesus has just shared a number of parables with his followers, all of which seem to be centered on being watchful and prepared for things to come. Then they proceed to Simon's house just before the last supper when an unidentified woman (John records her as Mary) anoints Christ with costly perfume. The disciples grumble that she has wasted money, which is something that I could easily imagine myself saying in their place. John records that it was Judas in fact that led this charge interestingly enough. The Lord’s response is instructive as usual; he challenges the disciple’s narrow pragmatism; they are missing something of vital importance.
Christ's explanation cut me like a knife. Matthew recounts the savior's words as thus: “When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial…” It seems then that she knows and believes what is to come, something even the disciples will struggle to understand. Christ must be crucified to fulfill the prophecies, to save the world; she fully anticipates it. John provides us the further detail that she washed his feet with her hair and I think this is a beautiful picture of her adoration for Jesus. She knows that he must die at the hands of men, that he must leave her and I don't imagine this was easy for her but perhaps she has the will of God in mind something that Peter will soon wrestle with. Again it appears that Mary has paid close attention to the details putting the disciples to shame. If you will recall this is the same Mary that sat at foot of Christ in a previous episode, listening intently to his words while her sister Martha was busy with preparations. Mary is said to have chosen the more valuable...
I missed the bulk of Good Friday because I was busy with business as usual. I am most interested in what this might reveal about my divided heart these days. Am I seeking to know God above all else? Is He my portion? No, I continue to wrestle with God. I continue to get entangled in the vain things of this world. I am more like the disciples at the garden of Gethsamane who in light of the fact that their Lord is in deep distress, and in light of all that is to come, with heavy eyelids keep falling asleep...
"Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." - Matthew 26:41
Saturday, January 16, 2010
24
“Twenty -four failures, twenty-four tries…” -Switchfoot
The last year and a half have been a time of some significant changes. I have gotten engaged, left music for academia, and as I have previously mentioned Katie and I have started attending a new church. These are the apparent changes, but more remain under the surface and these I believe to be far more substantial. For one, I have been on a spiritual journey having left what was for so many years comfortable for me in exchange for the unknown. In some minor way I am reminded of the scriptures: Abraham was called by God to leave his home and travel to Ur, Moses from Egypt to the promised land and the apostles from Jerusalem to the Gentile nations.
I suppose we may all be called at some time to abandon that which is most familiar to us in order to sojourn to the beyond. Unfortunately, though we may leave our past surroundings toward the call it is often not without baggage. The manner in which we have previously grown creates for us certain paradigms, ways of thinking and acting, sometimes perfunctory patterns and as we venture out we find a collision of spheres: New wine and old wine skins. Thus, the journey is long and arduous with great obstacles. We encounter a battle within ourselves and all of our:
“twenty-four parts…”
According to biblical tradition, the Israelites essentially walked around in a circle for 40 years because their hearts required immense change; they had to be broken of their former ways of existence and it wasn’t pretty and I guess I feel as though I have been and continue on a similar path.
I have been a child in the spiritual sense for years. I have survived off of only milk.. I have had zeal without knowledge and have thought like a child. But I am trying to move ahead toward the Zion; to put off childish ways and to reason like a man only I continue to crawl on the floor dribbling at the chin.
“There’s twenty-four reasons to admit that I’m wrong, with all my excuses still twenty-four strong…"
In Deuteronomy 2, it is written that God had to humble the hearts of his people during the exhausting exodus to the land of the promise. Through their complaining and nostalgia for Egypt they had to press on, but they had to be transformed in the process and this could be done no other way than through constant failures, which I suppose could bring one to their knees.
I was thinking about all of this when I turned to the book of Hebrews a moment ago. Here is sort of the outline of the epistle: Paul exhorts believers not to neglect the word of God (Ch 2); warns the church about regressing in learning and instead exhorts us to progress from immaturity to solid food (Ch 5 and 6); commands us to abstain from willful sinning which he equates to “trampling on the Son of God”, regarding “profane the blood of Christ”, and “insulting the Spirit of Grace” all of which are to bring judgment (Ch 10:26-31). Furthermore, the apostle calls us to endure (Ch 12) in light of the groundwork that has been laid by our parents in the faith (mentioned in Ch 11). This is then followed by a section on God’s discipline of those he calls children. Struggling against sin and enduring in the faith (against the odds) appear to be the context of the "fatherly discipline."
Tonight I was also thinking about some of my recent conversations with others of the faith. There remains great division within the church and substantive discussions too often confront us with this fact. Thus, as I venture out beyond- as I journey away from what has been comfortable and familiar, I encounter disparities with previous mentors and friends and this is not without some degree of pain. How interesting though that I am also struggling with the disparities within my self and I’d imagine that I am not alone in this. In fact, St. Augustine spends much of his Confession on this very issue. The apostle Paul in similar spirit wrote: “The good I want to do I don’t do and that which I don’t want to do I end up doing.” As I look at my journey I continue to discover my failings, inadequacies, depravity, and in short, the lack of unity within myself. I am a house divided against itself and at times I get pretty weary of encountering this reality. How many crappy things do I have to learn about myself each day and why do I keep failing?
"But I want to be one today, centered in truth…”
I'm glad I kept reading as I found these words towards the end of the letter to the Hebrews:
“No discipline seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it yields the fruit of peace and righteousness to those who have been trained by it. Therefore strengthen your tired hands and weakened knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but healed instead.” Hebrews 12:11-12
One day "the lion will lay with the lamb" (Isaiah 11:6) and the church will be united as the bride of Christ (Rev 19:7) and along the way I suppose I will by his grace, pull my twenty-four pieces together.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Advent of Sabbath
As December winds down and as Christmas draws near I can't believe that 2010 is just around the corner. I don't recall a year that has been this eager to end. This morning I attended church and since that time I went home, made a little lunch and have been doing a little reading in the Westminster Confession of Faith as well as, looking through some of the Psalms. All this in an effort to keep the sabbath. Unfortunately, this is a rather foreign concept for me even though I have been a believer for sometime now. I think that somehow the sabbath though a significant part of the history of Christianity has been jettisoned along with a number of other significant traditions in the process of modernization or perhaps more specifically Americanization. For the most part I like millions of other self professing believers around the country dedicated a couple of hours at a church service and then rushed to a Rubios or IHOP to eat. This was followed by 12 or so hours of watching movies, hanging out, or otherwise carrying on with work. In other words, sabbath was just another day excepting the fact that I spent a couple hours at church singing songs and hearing a message. Recently, Katie and I have been attempting to learn about the sabbath, what it is scripturally and how it is that we can honor the Lord on this day. Luckily we have had a few friends who have been on a similar journey that have been pointing us in the right direction. The Westminster Confession states:
Nevertheless, I think we are slowly learning. At first it felt a bit encumbering like rules tend to feel at initial glance. I was reading The History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell last night and the first chapter was on Ancient Greece. Russell traces how Greek thought was an admixture of primitive science and religion. Moreover, he notes that as empiricism and rationality began to advance in that part of the world, it was met by an opposition of radical superstition as if the people were reverting (rather than progressing) as a result of the shift towards civility. In fact, some of the religious practices that were re-emerging were rather barbaric paralleling those of centuries before. Anyway, I've said all that to say that maybe it's pretty natural for people to revert in the face of challenges. More importantly though, I found that it was very easy to slip into the wrong mentality about the whole thing. For example, as I describe the sabbath day to others I find that they naturally tend towards asking about the things i can and cannot do. I did the same thing when I first started to hear about it, but that is to fall into a sort of legalism and to forget the heart of it all. The true question should be: "what can I do today to honor God?" as opposed to "what is it that I can get away with doing today?" Thus, I find as I have grown up for the most part without any concept of sabbath that I have a great deal to unlearn and learn.
I shared all this because as I spent today thinking about the sabbath (though quite against my natural inclination) I began to think also about Advent and the relationship between the two. It has become rather cliched now for Christians to shout that Christmas has been secularized. I have heard enough sermons about how it's better to say "Merry Christmas" than "Happy Holidays" to make me quite queasy. Yes, Christmas is not about shopping, santa, gift giving, egg nog, or mistletoe and I agree with all of this, but it seems strange that believers by in large don't seem very concerned over the sabbath. Strangely enough, although there is no command about celebrating Christmas, there are explicit and implicit directions regarding the sabbath. It seems that the sabbath has also been secularized only nobody seems to care much about it. It seems for the most part that Sunday has become a mere day off, opportunity for overtime, golf day, movie day, or IHOP day. In fact, the movies and restaurants are filled with happy church goers, in other words, we encourage that others work on the Lord's day. What is more, we spend it as a leisure day rather than a day of worship; we make it about us instead of Him and I guess as I look at everything Christmas has become, all the shiny lights, decorations, and all of the excess and as I think about how Christians have been fighting to "win back Christmas" I can't help but think that perhaps we are missing something here. Perhaps the secularization of Easter, Christmas, and the sabbath has as much to do with what we as believers have made of our lives as it does about non believers influencing culture. Perhaps that our society has lost the meaning of our precious occasions is only symptomatic of something more fundamental, namely the state of our hearts as the church. If we cannot maintain a day each week to focus on worship then how should we expect to maintain the proper attitude towards occasions like Advent. Further, if we as the church have lost the meaning of advent then what can we expect from secular culture?
This Sabbath is to be kept holy unto the Lord when men, after a due preparing of their hearts, and ordering of their common affairs beforehand, do not only observe an holy rest all the day from their own works, words, and thoughts about their wordly employments and recreations, but also are taken up the whole time in the public and private exercises of His worship, and in the duties of necessity and mercy.A few of the corresponding scriptures are Exodus 20:8, Exodus 16:23-30, Exodus 31:15-17, and Isaiah 58:13 for those who might be inquiring. Anyway, as I have already mentioned it hasn't been easy to follow, that is, keeping the worship of God in the forefront of my mind, in my thoughts, in my words and my actions has proven to be quite difficult even for one day a week and I guess it reveals something about my life overall. If I am struggling to do this one day a week what might this reveal about the rest of my days?
Nevertheless, I think we are slowly learning. At first it felt a bit encumbering like rules tend to feel at initial glance. I was reading The History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell last night and the first chapter was on Ancient Greece. Russell traces how Greek thought was an admixture of primitive science and religion. Moreover, he notes that as empiricism and rationality began to advance in that part of the world, it was met by an opposition of radical superstition as if the people were reverting (rather than progressing) as a result of the shift towards civility. In fact, some of the religious practices that were re-emerging were rather barbaric paralleling those of centuries before. Anyway, I've said all that to say that maybe it's pretty natural for people to revert in the face of challenges. More importantly though, I found that it was very easy to slip into the wrong mentality about the whole thing. For example, as I describe the sabbath day to others I find that they naturally tend towards asking about the things i can and cannot do. I did the same thing when I first started to hear about it, but that is to fall into a sort of legalism and to forget the heart of it all. The true question should be: "what can I do today to honor God?" as opposed to "what is it that I can get away with doing today?" Thus, I find as I have grown up for the most part without any concept of sabbath that I have a great deal to unlearn and learn.
I shared all this because as I spent today thinking about the sabbath (though quite against my natural inclination) I began to think also about Advent and the relationship between the two. It has become rather cliched now for Christians to shout that Christmas has been secularized. I have heard enough sermons about how it's better to say "Merry Christmas" than "Happy Holidays" to make me quite queasy. Yes, Christmas is not about shopping, santa, gift giving, egg nog, or mistletoe and I agree with all of this, but it seems strange that believers by in large don't seem very concerned over the sabbath. Strangely enough, although there is no command about celebrating Christmas, there are explicit and implicit directions regarding the sabbath. It seems that the sabbath has also been secularized only nobody seems to care much about it. It seems for the most part that Sunday has become a mere day off, opportunity for overtime, golf day, movie day, or IHOP day. In fact, the movies and restaurants are filled with happy church goers, in other words, we encourage that others work on the Lord's day. What is more, we spend it as a leisure day rather than a day of worship; we make it about us instead of Him and I guess as I look at everything Christmas has become, all the shiny lights, decorations, and all of the excess and as I think about how Christians have been fighting to "win back Christmas" I can't help but think that perhaps we are missing something here. Perhaps the secularization of Easter, Christmas, and the sabbath has as much to do with what we as believers have made of our lives as it does about non believers influencing culture. Perhaps that our society has lost the meaning of our precious occasions is only symptomatic of something more fundamental, namely the state of our hearts as the church. If we cannot maintain a day each week to focus on worship then how should we expect to maintain the proper attitude towards occasions like Advent. Further, if we as the church have lost the meaning of advent then what can we expect from secular culture?
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Learning to Love.
It's been a while...and somethings have changed drastically, and somethings remain the same.
I'm sitting outside of the school library alone- watching the sun quickly recede into the deep. Darkness is coming upon me crashing down in giant waves, it is smothering the light and soon it will be evening.
I imagine the headlights of cars, store signs and street lamps coming to life all around this desert state- in various colors, some of them flickering and hesitating for a moment due to years of routine...some shimmering proudly like the stars that line the heavens, others bashfully glowing with a low hum...soaked in earthly humility. For a moment I wish I were floating up above just beyond the clouds, so that I might witness the show... how tiny dots would suddenly sparkle in succession, appearing from one dotted gridline to another. Perspective can change the mundane to the majestic.
This week has been rather tumultuous and I feel weak at the moment. I have begun a relationship and am learning that loving someone is difficult. It is something to be learned and thoughtfully, carefully approached. It is not necessarily because she is hard to love, but rather that drawing close to someone tends to expose more of oneself... she is a mirror by which I am able to see myself and all of the ugly parts...parts I thought I had long lost... But they are here, in full fledge in some cases freshly drawn out from deep recesses of the person I once was... I am selfish, needy, insecure, proud and stubborn and it's hurting the person I am trying to love. What is more, I am struggling to receive her love... questioning it as if it were something fleeting, mysterious, like the morning haze... or a dream from which I will soon awaken from...and I am realizing that I feel hardly worth the love of another... hardly worth her affections because it still remains at times that I am my own worst enemy.
I don't want to be this way... it's difficult and I feel broken and alone. I want to be stronger for us...to protect her from all that is wrong with the world...but i can't help but feel sometimes that she needs most to be protected from me...
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (1 Corinthians 13)
For Christmas I suprised Katie with a beta fish in an interesting vase/water pitcher. Two long stem roses were placed soaring up above the pitchers opening while blue and clear marbles filled the floor, accenting the glittery scales of mr. fish. This has been something we have both since enjoyed a great deal... The vase/water pitcher is in fact a water pitcher from a trendy home furnishings store, and thus has a very unique shape.
This afternoon, I was over at Katie's place and she had begun cleaning this uniquely shaped aquarium. In my attempt to help I dropped the vase in the sink shattering it to pieces. Fortunately, the fish had already been stored away in his hotel room (that is the cup i bought him in), thus no animals were harmed in the making of this accident, but the vase was reduced to nothing but shards. We spent sometime cleaning up the kitchen as the glass was just everywhere, on the counter, the sink, floor and even imbedded in my shirt. We were both upset, but quiet and relatively slow in our actions. It had been a difficult day and to be honest I had been a pretty shitty boyfriend all morning... As we left the kitchen, I noticed fine specks of glass on my hands and arms sparkling in the light and so I did my best to brush them off outside...as we left the house, Katie came close to hug me because she knew I was feeling less then great, not only because of the accident, but because of the kind of morning we had had... The truth was, I was scared to touch her for fear that there might still be glass remaining on me that might cut her... and so I handled her hands and her hugs with great caution as if I were holding something too delicate and invaluable, as if I were somehow infected and contagious.
And I guess at the moment I am realizing something about love and about myself. I am covered in pieces of jagged glass, embedded deep in my soul. Some pieces so fine that they pass fastidious sweeps... but sharp and harmful they remain. I have to learn how to handle more gently...because the things I do, the words I speak are sharp and piercing and I'm hurting the one I love most in this life. She is delicate, soft and invaluable and I always just feel so damn clumsy in this thing like a bear on a unicycle trying to hold on to priceless, porcelain antique.
I will say this. I am learning and relearning (daily) my need for Grace. She grants me this day after day... and often I don't know how or even why, but I am thankful and undeserving, which sort of is assumed in the idea of grace I suppose. I am learning though I think...or at least trying to and this is no small task and love, real love is scaling mountain after mountain, it is finding truth, facing it and changing accordingly, it is a persistent trial by fire, constantly dying and finding life by the Grace of another.
.
I'm sitting outside of the school library alone- watching the sun quickly recede into the deep. Darkness is coming upon me crashing down in giant waves, it is smothering the light and soon it will be evening.
I imagine the headlights of cars, store signs and street lamps coming to life all around this desert state- in various colors, some of them flickering and hesitating for a moment due to years of routine...some shimmering proudly like the stars that line the heavens, others bashfully glowing with a low hum...soaked in earthly humility. For a moment I wish I were floating up above just beyond the clouds, so that I might witness the show... how tiny dots would suddenly sparkle in succession, appearing from one dotted gridline to another. Perspective can change the mundane to the majestic.
This week has been rather tumultuous and I feel weak at the moment. I have begun a relationship and am learning that loving someone is difficult. It is something to be learned and thoughtfully, carefully approached. It is not necessarily because she is hard to love, but rather that drawing close to someone tends to expose more of oneself... she is a mirror by which I am able to see myself and all of the ugly parts...parts I thought I had long lost... But they are here, in full fledge in some cases freshly drawn out from deep recesses of the person I once was... I am selfish, needy, insecure, proud and stubborn and it's hurting the person I am trying to love. What is more, I am struggling to receive her love... questioning it as if it were something fleeting, mysterious, like the morning haze... or a dream from which I will soon awaken from...and I am realizing that I feel hardly worth the love of another... hardly worth her affections because it still remains at times that I am my own worst enemy.
I don't want to be this way... it's difficult and I feel broken and alone. I want to be stronger for us...to protect her from all that is wrong with the world...but i can't help but feel sometimes that she needs most to be protected from me...
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (1 Corinthians 13)
For Christmas I suprised Katie with a beta fish in an interesting vase/water pitcher. Two long stem roses were placed soaring up above the pitchers opening while blue and clear marbles filled the floor, accenting the glittery scales of mr. fish. This has been something we have both since enjoyed a great deal... The vase/water pitcher is in fact a water pitcher from a trendy home furnishings store, and thus has a very unique shape.
This afternoon, I was over at Katie's place and she had begun cleaning this uniquely shaped aquarium. In my attempt to help I dropped the vase in the sink shattering it to pieces. Fortunately, the fish had already been stored away in his hotel room (that is the cup i bought him in), thus no animals were harmed in the making of this accident, but the vase was reduced to nothing but shards. We spent sometime cleaning up the kitchen as the glass was just everywhere, on the counter, the sink, floor and even imbedded in my shirt. We were both upset, but quiet and relatively slow in our actions. It had been a difficult day and to be honest I had been a pretty shitty boyfriend all morning... As we left the kitchen, I noticed fine specks of glass on my hands and arms sparkling in the light and so I did my best to brush them off outside...as we left the house, Katie came close to hug me because she knew I was feeling less then great, not only because of the accident, but because of the kind of morning we had had... The truth was, I was scared to touch her for fear that there might still be glass remaining on me that might cut her... and so I handled her hands and her hugs with great caution as if I were holding something too delicate and invaluable, as if I were somehow infected and contagious.
And I guess at the moment I am realizing something about love and about myself. I am covered in pieces of jagged glass, embedded deep in my soul. Some pieces so fine that they pass fastidious sweeps... but sharp and harmful they remain. I have to learn how to handle more gently...because the things I do, the words I speak are sharp and piercing and I'm hurting the one I love most in this life. She is delicate, soft and invaluable and I always just feel so damn clumsy in this thing like a bear on a unicycle trying to hold on to priceless, porcelain antique.
I will say this. I am learning and relearning (daily) my need for Grace. She grants me this day after day... and often I don't know how or even why, but I am thankful and undeserving, which sort of is assumed in the idea of grace I suppose. I am learning though I think...or at least trying to and this is no small task and love, real love is scaling mountain after mountain, it is finding truth, facing it and changing accordingly, it is a persistent trial by fire, constantly dying and finding life by the Grace of another.
.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
like a thousand brush strokes...
Today has been quite a roller coaster of emotions... the peculiarity is in the fact that nothing out of the ordinary occured. I woke up this morning to the sound of my alarm clock just as the 100 or so days behind, bathed and headed to school, attended classes and hung out with friends, laughed and conversed... and almost out of habit, camped out in the library until night fall reading lenghty dissertations on metaphysics... That was what occured on the outside at least... internally I came together and fell apart repeatedly and honestly lost count... like an oscillating universe.
I think I'm ok though, honestly this is no new territory for me and I intend on pulling through. Sure some days are worse than others...and there are severely intense moments when the air feels as heavy as lead...but I get through them too placing one foot in front of the other, taking one laborious breathe after another.
And what can I conclude? But that this is life and as the fatalist would proclaim: "we must have it any way it comes."
I am back to embracing the small moments, the moments we often take for granted because of the subtly of their nature. People generally live for the grand moments, weddings, graduations, promotions and births...and these may rightfully bring us great pleasure... but we often risk missing out on the nuances of life... perhaps it is these nuances that provide for the grander experiences... like the thousands of tiny brush strokes it takes for a painting to mean anything.
This evening I drove home with the windows down because the city didn't feel real enough...I needed to hear the sound of bustling cars and find the smell of gasoline burning in the air... As I turned the dark corner into my neighborhood, the scent of burning wood and the feeling of cold reached my senses, immediately causing my mind to bring up the fondest holiday memories I have to date...memories of cold evenings spent with my warm family... I saw my grandmother's house for a brief moment, which was always decorated to a beautiful excess. The cotton snow that covered her armoires, the tiny village of houses that lit up and the collection of soldiers that filled the house with songs of Christmas by rining bells in a programmed succession... I could even smell cookies warming in the oven-teasing our appetites... Most of all I saw my parents when they were younger and still appeared to me invincible, my beloved cousins, brother, and my Uncle Jim, Aunt Lottie, and my Grandmother all together in that old house under the soft glow of Christmas lights... and though I knew that I was simply having a recollection, I couldn't help but smile and feel pleasantly nostalgic.
Of course it's been years since we've all been together like that... and time has taken from me three of my loved ones. For those of us that still remain, we've all grown older. And the holidays have taken a much different form... there is less mystery, less anticipation... the things that seem to fade with age...
The human brain is said to store memories of specific incidences in the temporal cortex, which is the lower portion of the organ. It is true that some unpleasant experiences are to be found here, but we need this area to recall all the moments we long deeply to hold on to... and these moments that we have grown to cherish are more than random images that have been impressed on our minds... so long as we may keep them, they may be a source for the subtle joys I spoke of... where the whispers of pleasure are released...where the shadows of happiness are cast... And tonight I relish this moment, even though it is but a memory.
I think I'm ok though, honestly this is no new territory for me and I intend on pulling through. Sure some days are worse than others...and there are severely intense moments when the air feels as heavy as lead...but I get through them too placing one foot in front of the other, taking one laborious breathe after another.
And what can I conclude? But that this is life and as the fatalist would proclaim: "we must have it any way it comes."
I am back to embracing the small moments, the moments we often take for granted because of the subtly of their nature. People generally live for the grand moments, weddings, graduations, promotions and births...and these may rightfully bring us great pleasure... but we often risk missing out on the nuances of life... perhaps it is these nuances that provide for the grander experiences... like the thousands of tiny brush strokes it takes for a painting to mean anything.
This evening I drove home with the windows down because the city didn't feel real enough...I needed to hear the sound of bustling cars and find the smell of gasoline burning in the air... As I turned the dark corner into my neighborhood, the scent of burning wood and the feeling of cold reached my senses, immediately causing my mind to bring up the fondest holiday memories I have to date...memories of cold evenings spent with my warm family... I saw my grandmother's house for a brief moment, which was always decorated to a beautiful excess. The cotton snow that covered her armoires, the tiny village of houses that lit up and the collection of soldiers that filled the house with songs of Christmas by rining bells in a programmed succession... I could even smell cookies warming in the oven-teasing our appetites... Most of all I saw my parents when they were younger and still appeared to me invincible, my beloved cousins, brother, and my Uncle Jim, Aunt Lottie, and my Grandmother all together in that old house under the soft glow of Christmas lights... and though I knew that I was simply having a recollection, I couldn't help but smile and feel pleasantly nostalgic.
Of course it's been years since we've all been together like that... and time has taken from me three of my loved ones. For those of us that still remain, we've all grown older. And the holidays have taken a much different form... there is less mystery, less anticipation... the things that seem to fade with age...
The human brain is said to store memories of specific incidences in the temporal cortex, which is the lower portion of the organ. It is true that some unpleasant experiences are to be found here, but we need this area to recall all the moments we long deeply to hold on to... and these moments that we have grown to cherish are more than random images that have been impressed on our minds... so long as we may keep them, they may be a source for the subtle joys I spoke of... where the whispers of pleasure are released...where the shadows of happiness are cast... And tonight I relish this moment, even though it is but a memory.
Memorial
3 years ago, my beloved grandmother passed away. She was a tremendous person and I was blessed to have had her in my life...she would be so thrilled that I was back in school...
How I wish that I could be sitting with her at this moment, over a mexican pizza (with extra guacamole) at Nino's. She would be asking me about my courses, my love life and whether I had music for her...then listening intently to my boring stories she would peer at me through her large plastic glasses, revealing a warm adoration in her eyes. At moments she might grab the hair on my chin and tickle me just to see me smile...and at every opportunity afforded to her, she would tell me how wonderful I was, how much I meant to her...and how proud she was of me... never has walked a gentler, more beautiful woman...and I miss her deeply right now.
Here is a blog that I wrote only a few days after her passing, I guess I just want to remember her...
How I wish that I could be sitting with her at this moment, over a mexican pizza (with extra guacamole) at Nino's. She would be asking me about my courses, my love life and whether I had music for her...then listening intently to my boring stories she would peer at me through her large plastic glasses, revealing a warm adoration in her eyes. At moments she might grab the hair on my chin and tickle me just to see me smile...and at every opportunity afforded to her, she would tell me how wonderful I was, how much I meant to her...and how proud she was of me... never has walked a gentler, more beautiful woman...and I miss her deeply right now.
Here is a blog that I wrote only a few days after her passing, I guess I just want to remember her...
i am alone, in an empty store...gazing into the cloudy autumn sky. It was a long weekend...and it seems to have carried over. Thursday evening, my grandmother passed away. She was very dear to me...to all of us and now we are forced to deal with this tremendous loss.
It was a very strange and strenuous weekend for me. I find only now as I sit here restlessly...with many hours ahead...that i feel up to the task of talking about this at all. For the most part I kept it to myself...in the days shortly following this event. I just didn't want to talk about it... I didn't care to hear what anyone (outside of the family) had to say about it. I didn't want condolences...i didn't want to hear that she had lived a long life...that it was her time, that she was now in heaven... i simply wanted time to mourn...and i still do.
I have started to tell some of my friends...for pragmatic reasons...since the rest of this week is going to be dedicated to memorial services and family affairs, i have had to cancel some things... but i'm still not up to really talking about how i feel with anyone...
I don't feel like i can't live. I don't feel overwhelmed.
I just feel a deep pain at the center of my being. Like something was torn out suddenly- something I cherished, something i needed, something i can't ever have back.
and nothing feels quite the same. The world just seems somehow flatter... greyer... and everything seems to move just a little bit slower.
Friday and Saturday were beautiful days....they were blessed by clear blue skies, and mildly warm weather... and i could see this... i mean objectively...they were... but i couldn't feel them...i couldn't feel the soothing breezes, or the warmth of sun against my skin... i couldn't feel how wonderful the days were...i just had to trust my eyes...that this was the case.
and now it's overcast...and i feel somehow this weather is more justified.
Attempting to continue my routine is at once therapeutic and equally painful. I have been going on long aimless drives these last few nights... although I don't feel very much like hanging out with friends... i feel restless when i stay in...and the open road, the movement, the scenery, the unknown, it seems to provide me some solace.
The last two evenings i have taken a particular road north...for miles and miles until it ends.
After sometime through the city it leads to a curvy expanding road.. with small hills to the east... it's a liberating drive...wide, open, empty...w/ very few other vehicles... i like most, to stare into the openess, into the deep...the quiet.
As I persist for several more minutes i end up in a remote housing development... There are at most, a handful of tenants occupying several square miles...because the community is still in early development. More hills surround the area...particularly to the north...opposing the development are miles and miles of desert. I have come here, to sit in solitude... i'm not sure what it is i'm looking for. i don't know that i'm looking for anything at all... somehow coming here, alone... makes me feel a bit more calm. It's so serene, so different from the city...you can hear the wind as it passes by caressing the leaves... i watch tiny aeroplanes passing by and every now and then a tiny sound of what seems to be a vehicle can be heard...but all of this, everything, is at a distance.
I witnessed a coyote walking through the development late last night and i imagined it strolling through the ghostly neighborhood, staring at the bizarre structures... and lights, trying to make sense of the uninvited suburban development that was taking over what used to be his backyard. I thought it tragic to consider one day he would simply have nowhere to go. When he noticed me he took a more immediate pace...making his way back to the hills... i followed with my eyes in wonder...until he faded into the night... until it was time for me to head back.
This is my mourning. I love you grammy and I miss you.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Grey
by Ani Difranco
The sky is grey,
the sand is grey,
and the ocean is grey.
I feel right at home
in this stunning monochrome,
alone in my way.
I smoke and I drink
and every time I blink,
I have a tiny dream.
But as bad as I am,
I'm proud of the fact,
that I'm worse than I seem.
What kind of paradise am I looking for?
I've got everything I want and still I want more.
Maybe some tiny, shiny thing will wash up on the shore.
You walk through my walls,
like a ghost on tv.
You penetrate me...
And my little pink heart,
is on its little brown raft,
floating out to sea.
And what can I say?
but I'm wired this way,
and you're wired to me.
And what can I do,
but wallow in you unintentionally?
What kind of paradise am I looking for?
I've got everything I want and still I want more.
Maybe some tiny, shiny key will wash up on the shore.
Regretfully, I guess I've got
three simple things to say.
Why me? Why this now? Why this way?
Overtone's ringing,
undertow's pulling away.
Under a sky that is grey,
on sand that is grey,
by an ocean that's grey...
*
The sky is grey,
the sand is grey,
and the ocean is grey.
I feel right at home
in this stunning monochrome,
alone in my way.
I smoke and I drink
and every time I blink,
I have a tiny dream.
But as bad as I am,
I'm proud of the fact,
that I'm worse than I seem.
What kind of paradise am I looking for?
I've got everything I want and still I want more.
Maybe some tiny, shiny thing will wash up on the shore.
You walk through my walls,
like a ghost on tv.
You penetrate me...
And my little pink heart,
is on its little brown raft,
floating out to sea.
And what can I say?
but I'm wired this way,
and you're wired to me.
And what can I do,
but wallow in you unintentionally?
What kind of paradise am I looking for?
I've got everything I want and still I want more.
Maybe some tiny, shiny key will wash up on the shore.
Regretfully, I guess I've got
three simple things to say.
Why me? Why this now? Why this way?
Overtone's ringing,
undertow's pulling away.
Under a sky that is grey,
on sand that is grey,
by an ocean that's grey...
*
Saturday, October 4, 2008
I want to evaporate...
It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon and I find myself at the library preparing for two midterm exams I will have to face on Monday. It's been some months since I was able to drive with the windows down, but it's finally in the 80's and we are assured that we have seen the last of triple digit temperatures for the year. I say, halleujah!
As i drove to school, it began to sprinkle and I held my left arm out of the window to feel the first of autumn showers...It felt cold and refreshing against my tired skin... I had Max Richter (a modern composer) playing on the stereo... his short composition "Horizon Variations" is so richly, beautiful... a two minute piano piece that seems to capture the complex mix of emotions that I am feeling these days, and this without even a single word. As I waited at a stop light, the song repeated for the fourth time and I stared up above in search of even a speck of blue amidst the thick, rain-laden clouds... but a brewing storm caused a wide impervious barrier of mild darkness to wash over every trace of color, and I imagined that life today would be pale and moody for the millions living in this great city of the sun.
Upon arriving on campus, I walked the hundred yards to the library. Being the weekend, the journey was quiet and lonely. A strange idleness filled the school from building to building... empty tables were surrounded by empty chairs, and the walkways and sidewalks and the halls of this crowded university, were calm and hollow save the distant echoes of monday morning chatter.
At the moment I am in the library and I should be studying, but I find my thoughts to be miles from anything academic. I feel abstract not analytical today...As strange as it all may sound, I feel as though I want to come undone... to be pulled apart into a hundred million particles.... to evaporate, with tiny pieces of me scattered into the ocean, upon giant trees, falling into dust
and then floating into the air, where you could breathe me in...
Hindu's believe that God is everything... "Brahman" represents all of matter, and God -and the two are inseparable... in essence we are one with all, the universe and God... extensions, not distinctions. And this appeals to me right now, at least the idea. I want to feel a part of everything because everything feels so painfully disconnected...or rather I feel so separated from all, everything and everyone. I would venture to say that we all struggle with this... that it is the fundamental, existential dilemma of humanity...and perhaps this is why pantheistic, systems have their appeal... it (at least in concept) ties us to this enormous universe...the unconscious cosmos that seems at times so cold, unpredictable, and apathetic to our lives... The Christian message is that all of this was in some way created for us... as an expression of God's glory and as an expression of ours. We are highly distinctive from all matter, and it was not for the stars or planets, or created order that Christ shed his blood, but for humanity alone...and it is humanity alone, not animals or the trees or even the endless galaxies, that is called into a love affair with God... that is called the apple of His eye... and I think that is quite beautiful. The difficulty is that everything in this life seems to try and tear man away from God... and again, we are so highly distinctive of the Divine, how can we be united in our brokenness to His perfection?
It is a beautiful day, and I guess I'll try and search for whatever it might mean to enjoy it.
.
As i drove to school, it began to sprinkle and I held my left arm out of the window to feel the first of autumn showers...It felt cold and refreshing against my tired skin... I had Max Richter (a modern composer) playing on the stereo... his short composition "Horizon Variations" is so richly, beautiful... a two minute piano piece that seems to capture the complex mix of emotions that I am feeling these days, and this without even a single word. As I waited at a stop light, the song repeated for the fourth time and I stared up above in search of even a speck of blue amidst the thick, rain-laden clouds... but a brewing storm caused a wide impervious barrier of mild darkness to wash over every trace of color, and I imagined that life today would be pale and moody for the millions living in this great city of the sun.
Upon arriving on campus, I walked the hundred yards to the library. Being the weekend, the journey was quiet and lonely. A strange idleness filled the school from building to building... empty tables were surrounded by empty chairs, and the walkways and sidewalks and the halls of this crowded university, were calm and hollow save the distant echoes of monday morning chatter.
At the moment I am in the library and I should be studying, but I find my thoughts to be miles from anything academic. I feel abstract not analytical today...As strange as it all may sound, I feel as though I want to come undone... to be pulled apart into a hundred million particles.... to evaporate, with tiny pieces of me scattered into the ocean, upon giant trees, falling into dust
and then floating into the air, where you could breathe me in...
Hindu's believe that God is everything... "Brahman" represents all of matter, and God -and the two are inseparable... in essence we are one with all, the universe and God... extensions, not distinctions. And this appeals to me right now, at least the idea. I want to feel a part of everything because everything feels so painfully disconnected...or rather I feel so separated from all, everything and everyone. I would venture to say that we all struggle with this... that it is the fundamental, existential dilemma of humanity...and perhaps this is why pantheistic, systems have their appeal... it (at least in concept) ties us to this enormous universe...the unconscious cosmos that seems at times so cold, unpredictable, and apathetic to our lives... The Christian message is that all of this was in some way created for us... as an expression of God's glory and as an expression of ours. We are highly distinctive from all matter, and it was not for the stars or planets, or created order that Christ shed his blood, but for humanity alone...and it is humanity alone, not animals or the trees or even the endless galaxies, that is called into a love affair with God... that is called the apple of His eye... and I think that is quite beautiful. The difficulty is that everything in this life seems to try and tear man away from God... and again, we are so highly distinctive of the Divine, how can we be united in our brokenness to His perfection?
...Remember that at that time you were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by abolishing in his flesh the law with its commandments and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new man out of the two, thus making peace, and in this one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. -Ephesians 2:12-18
It is a beautiful day, and I guess I'll try and search for whatever it might mean to enjoy it.
.
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