When I was little I did a school report on the Loch Ness Monster. I think that I wanted it to exist. I wanted something that mysterious to still be 'out there'--to still be elusive to mankind's ability to know this world in which we live. I get excited when I get my National Geographic Adventure magazine. I am excited to see what is out there that I didn't know about.
Recently two big discoveries have been made in the animal world. For the first time a giant squid has been video taped in its own natural habitat. Also, a once thought extinct (almost mythical) woodpecker has been rediscovered in the wild. Read the original Cornell paper here and a Minnesotan birder who is still skeptical here.
I am not sure what excites me about these things. I am not a naturalist, birder or wildlife expert. I got excited last week watching a PBS episode on the effects of global warming on polar ice caps--I got excited because they discovered a species of worm that is living in the freshwater melting ice.
Sometimes I want there to be limits to our knowledge so that there are opportunities for our creativity...for our imagination. It is amazing to me that the largest squid and the largest woodpecker can be so elusive. It amazes me that Osama cannot be found.
When I watch the news I get the feeling that mankind has permeated every once of the planet. It is refreshing to know that we have a long ways to go. I am encouraged by the infinite nature of our lack of knowledge.
If the monster of Loch Ness does exist I hope that she escapes discovery for a while longer. Hopefully our often reckless inhabitation of the planet will not unknowingly steal away opportunities for discovery (as in the case of the Ivory Billed Woodpecker).
New opportunities for discovery are evolving all around us--that is somehow refreshing. What else is out there?
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Great is Over Rated
Those of you who have known me over the past six years and have had a recent conversation with me also know that I have changed substantially in that time span. I am not the same person I used to be. My world view is different and my personality is perhaps a little more refined from years of depression. The world will forever look different to me.
While I have many thoughts that have developed during this time--and continue to develop--I have one that I want to share with you today. Great is over rated.
First: a little background. Dreaming about future possibilities and being able to trust God have always come easy to me--like second nature. I am not a skeptic at heart. I am an optimist, an idealist, a romantic. Consequently I tend to be very impressionable.
Needless to say, my secular and Christian upbringing left a fairly large impression upon me. They combined to tell me that the future was mine to make of it what I could. My only limitation was my own lack of imagination--or faith. While I suppose that there is some validity to a high school teacher pumping up their 9th grade class with dreams of possibilities--dreams of great things--there is also much that was overlooked.
As a Christian from a Christian family, I grew up hearing incredible Bible stories. I heard about Daniel in the lions' den, Moses and the Red Sea, Joseph and his dreams, David and Goliath, Abraham and his son, Noah and his ark, Esther and the kingdom, Jesus and his disciples, Paul and his journeys...the list of great stories seems endless. I was encouraged to emulate these people and their faith that did great things. I was told that God could do great things through anyone. This may be true, but much has been overlooked.
Because I am impressionable I believed that I could find fulfillment through trusting God to use my life for great purposes. Now I didn't care if I got recognition or actually did something great--I just wanted fulfillment in life. I was led to believe that fulfillment came from the future--from a great future. Isn't that part of the message contained in the American Dream?
Now, five years later, I am here to say that great is over rated. And if great is contained in the future then maybe the future is over rated as well. It seems that my demographic (20 somethings) are consumed with the future--with transitioning to the right place, with establishing a family, with establishing something for our future. Our lives are on hold for what is to come. We have over looked the present. How many of us could say that right now our life has closure as a whole? How many of us could (this is a morbid thought) die today with closure--with some sort of resolution that our life has been enough? Our personal sense of fulfillment is probably attached to something yet to come in our lives--something great in the future.
I am not suggesting that we should give up goals and dreams for great things in the future (see description of my personality above). I can't help but to dream about future possibilities...but not with priority over the present.
I just had a conversation last week with my father-in-law over a book that he had been reading. It was about living in the present--not the past or the future. 'Present' was used as a play on words. It meant a gift as well as a moment in time. I used to think of unwrapping my future as a gift--but my present? Are my stack of bills to pay, my arguments with my wife, my work, mowing the lawn and worrying about finances really a gift?
Take a look at this quote by William James that I found at the back of The Art of Possibility by Rosamund and Benjamin Zander:
I am not only done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big successes, I am tired of them. They make me tired. I only have one life to live and it is not in a past that I can do little about nor is it in an abstract future that exists only in my head; my life must be lived in the gift of the present moment--with intrigue and with abandonment. I cannot hold out for something else when all I ever have is the present.
I find that as I venture to do this I am way behind in my ability to do this. I have never been taught how to value "those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual." I have not been taught how to be satisfied, content and fulfilled with what life has to offer right now. I am venturing in to new territory. I am venturing into my present.
As they say in the Dead Poets Society, I want to learn how to suck the marrow out of life. I hereby give myself freedom to leave the 'greatness' of the future behind in order to abandon myself to the gift of my life in the present--a life that is complete at any one moment.
While I have many thoughts that have developed during this time--and continue to develop--I have one that I want to share with you today. Great is over rated.
First: a little background. Dreaming about future possibilities and being able to trust God have always come easy to me--like second nature. I am not a skeptic at heart. I am an optimist, an idealist, a romantic. Consequently I tend to be very impressionable.
Needless to say, my secular and Christian upbringing left a fairly large impression upon me. They combined to tell me that the future was mine to make of it what I could. My only limitation was my own lack of imagination--or faith. While I suppose that there is some validity to a high school teacher pumping up their 9th grade class with dreams of possibilities--dreams of great things--there is also much that was overlooked.
As a Christian from a Christian family, I grew up hearing incredible Bible stories. I heard about Daniel in the lions' den, Moses and the Red Sea, Joseph and his dreams, David and Goliath, Abraham and his son, Noah and his ark, Esther and the kingdom, Jesus and his disciples, Paul and his journeys...the list of great stories seems endless. I was encouraged to emulate these people and their faith that did great things. I was told that God could do great things through anyone. This may be true, but much has been overlooked.
Because I am impressionable I believed that I could find fulfillment through trusting God to use my life for great purposes. Now I didn't care if I got recognition or actually did something great--I just wanted fulfillment in life. I was led to believe that fulfillment came from the future--from a great future. Isn't that part of the message contained in the American Dream?
Now, five years later, I am here to say that great is over rated. And if great is contained in the future then maybe the future is over rated as well. It seems that my demographic (20 somethings) are consumed with the future--with transitioning to the right place, with establishing a family, with establishing something for our future. Our lives are on hold for what is to come. We have over looked the present. How many of us could say that right now our life has closure as a whole? How many of us could (this is a morbid thought) die today with closure--with some sort of resolution that our life has been enough? Our personal sense of fulfillment is probably attached to something yet to come in our lives--something great in the future.
I am not suggesting that we should give up goals and dreams for great things in the future (see description of my personality above). I can't help but to dream about future possibilities...but not with priority over the present.
I just had a conversation last week with my father-in-law over a book that he had been reading. It was about living in the present--not the past or the future. 'Present' was used as a play on words. It meant a gift as well as a moment in time. I used to think of unwrapping my future as a gift--but my present? Are my stack of bills to pay, my arguments with my wife, my work, mowing the lawn and worrying about finances really a gift?
Take a look at this quote by William James that I found at the back of The Art of Possibility by Rosamund and Benjamin Zander:
I am done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big successes. I am for those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual, creeping through the crannies of the world like so many rootlets, or like the capillary oozing of water, yet which, if given time, will rend the hardest monuments of human pride.
I am not only done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big successes, I am tired of them. They make me tired. I only have one life to live and it is not in a past that I can do little about nor is it in an abstract future that exists only in my head; my life must be lived in the gift of the present moment--with intrigue and with abandonment. I cannot hold out for something else when all I ever have is the present.
I find that as I venture to do this I am way behind in my ability to do this. I have never been taught how to value "those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual." I have not been taught how to be satisfied, content and fulfilled with what life has to offer right now. I am venturing in to new territory. I am venturing into my present.
As they say in the Dead Poets Society, I want to learn how to suck the marrow out of life. I hereby give myself freedom to leave the 'greatness' of the future behind in order to abandon myself to the gift of my life in the present--a life that is complete at any one moment.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Sweet Savannah
This past week Laura and I took our first planned vacation (other than out honeymoon) as a couple. It was....ahhhh. So I thought I would share some pictures. These will be the last pictures of the summer because I start the last year of my grad program today (yesterday by the time I post this)--no more time for fun.
In short: We flew to Orlando and rented a Ford Mustang convertible; drove up the coast past the oldest town in America--St. Augustine, stayed on the beach at an incredible bed and breakfast on Tybee Island--just outside of Savannah--for seven nights. We had complementary wine and cheese every night. We drank a lot. On our last day there we kayaked through the lowlands (a tidal creek at the mouth of Savannah's river as it emptied into the ocean). We saw dolphins up close and navigated the incoming tidal surf. It was....ahhhh.
Laura's parents were able to drive over from Birmingham and stay with us for a few days. We all got our picture taken with the resident timberwolf, Buddy. He was formally wild until he wandered into an Alaska fishing camp one too many times. Craig (one of the guys who runs the B&B) took him home as a pet--check out his eyes.
Now if we could only get to South Africa to see my sister and bro-in-law....
In short: We flew to Orlando and rented a Ford Mustang convertible; drove up the coast past the oldest town in America--St. Augustine, stayed on the beach at an incredible bed and breakfast on Tybee Island--just outside of Savannah--for seven nights. We had complementary wine and cheese every night. We drank a lot. On our last day there we kayaked through the lowlands (a tidal creek at the mouth of Savannah's river as it emptied into the ocean). We saw dolphins up close and navigated the incoming tidal surf. It was....ahhhh.
Laura's parents were able to drive over from Birmingham and stay with us for a few days. We all got our picture taken with the resident timberwolf, Buddy. He was formally wild until he wandered into an Alaska fishing camp one too many times. Craig (one of the guys who runs the B&B) took him home as a pet--check out his eyes.
Now if we could only get to South Africa to see my sister and bro-in-law....
Friday, September 16, 2005
Gone for a Week
Before I start my final fall quarter of graduate school I am going to take a week off. I will return to write again for the last week of September.
Until then, I know that I just wrote some potentially provocative posts. I would love to hear from anyone who has questions or just flat out disagrees with me. I will check in next week to see if anyone had any thoughts while I was gone.
Have a good week!
Until then, I know that I just wrote some potentially provocative posts. I would love to hear from anyone who has questions or just flat out disagrees with me. I will check in next week to see if anyone had any thoughts while I was gone.
Have a good week!
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Life III: A Lesson from Star Wars and Donnie Darko
I am a little behind on my movie watching. I do a lot of renting. Movies are today's prose--today's poetry. At least the good ones are. While generations ago we used to read it now we tend to watch it. Movies are our Dostoevskys. They are our cultural prophets.
On the back of my Donnie Darko DVD case a Los Angeles Times reporter states of the movie that it is "one of the key American films of the decade." This might be true if only I understood half of it. I know this: I need to watch or read Watership Down again to discover any implication it may have in its obvious connection to Donnie Darko (check out the web site). Twenty years after Watership Down scared me as a child it has come back to haunt me again--only this time with a sense of awakening.
I digress before I even begin. I did not start this post to talk about the rabbit (Frank) of Donnie Darko or the rabbits of Watership Down. I wanted to point out a connection that I noticed between Star Wars III and Donnie Darko. I believe that the message contained there is a prophetic commentary on our current American culture. In particular the media and the Christian church may want to pay close attention.
I have trouble moving from one media exposure to another without taking time to interpret what I have seen. I did not have to make a point to stop and reflect this time. Reflection grabbed me like I imagine a heart attack would. There was little I could do about it. It started when I was sitting in the cheap theater watching Star Wars III and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan, acting prophetically in the movie, stated that those who speak in absolutes are influenced by the Dark Side of the Force. Wow. Now that is a counter cultural statement for America's media and for its Christian church.
The Christian church has made a point of depending upon absolute statements about life and God to maintain authority in the world. Who would have guessed that this is from the Dark Side--that is if we give Obi-Wan a voice in the church. I think we should. Contrastingly, many believers rely upon their knowledge of 'absolutes' to give them a firm foundation for their faith and Christian practice. Consequently, many crisis of faith are crisis of what we once held as absolute.
Could Obi-Wan be offering a futuristic warning in the same strain of the historic warning to the Corinthians? "...we know that 'all of us possess knowledge.' This 'knowledge' puffs up, but love builds up. If anyone imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know. But if anyone loves God, he is known by God" (I Cor. 8-1-3). I can almost imagine Yoda speaking those words.
Now obviously it is important to pursue knowledge...but what kind of knowledge? the absolute kind? the polarizing kind? The media like to polarize issues as much as anybody does. In fact, that is how you create an issue--you polarize it, you make it into extremes, you speak in absolutes. How many times have I been frustrated by questions and issues that appear to only have absolute answers. Am I for abortion or against it? Am I for the war or against it? Am I a Democrate or a Republican. It is not that simple. Watch the news and see how simply the media frames issues. Just about every issue has two sides as if it were only two dimensional.
Donnie Darko sat through a classroom session where his teacher made them watch a video about the power of fear to inhibit love. After the video was done she drew on the chalk board a straight line with 'Fear' written on the left side and 'Love' written on the right side. She explained that in any situation we are being motivated by one and the other. The goal is to free ourselves from the power of fear so that we may operate out of the freedom of love. To help the students see this reality she had them read a hypothetical situation and place an X on the continuum connecting fear and love based upon which motivational combination was compelling the hypothetical characters. Donnie Darko refused--and got angry.
He argued that life was not that simple. This two-dimensional diagram left no room for any other influential factors in the hypothetical situation. It overlooked the complexities found in real world scenarios. It boiled all of our emotions and motivations down to two categories. This was outrageous for Donnie Darko.
I will grant the teacher (and our churches and the media) that it helps to polarize issues for the sake of the learning environment--it makes teaching easier. However, it also teaches a simplistic and absolute view of the world. Overcome fear for love. I think that I have friends who have seen this video by Donnie Darko's teacher. This is not a bad principle I guess. But that is all that it is. It is a generality, not an absolute.
Maybe we are accustomed to speaking with such absolute, 'blanket', statements because it gives us a little more influence, respect, control and power--reflections of the Dark Side of the Force. Maybe the truth contains too many complexities for us that we feel as if we must speak in generalizations disguised as absolutes?
It could be that Obi-Wan and Darko are saying that it is time for us to deal with life's complexities. Maybe then faith and trust will take on new meanings.
On the back of my Donnie Darko DVD case a Los Angeles Times reporter states of the movie that it is "one of the key American films of the decade." This might be true if only I understood half of it. I know this: I need to watch or read Watership Down again to discover any implication it may have in its obvious connection to Donnie Darko (check out the web site). Twenty years after Watership Down scared me as a child it has come back to haunt me again--only this time with a sense of awakening.
I digress before I even begin. I did not start this post to talk about the rabbit (Frank) of Donnie Darko or the rabbits of Watership Down. I wanted to point out a connection that I noticed between Star Wars III and Donnie Darko. I believe that the message contained there is a prophetic commentary on our current American culture. In particular the media and the Christian church may want to pay close attention.
I have trouble moving from one media exposure to another without taking time to interpret what I have seen. I did not have to make a point to stop and reflect this time. Reflection grabbed me like I imagine a heart attack would. There was little I could do about it. It started when I was sitting in the cheap theater watching Star Wars III and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan, acting prophetically in the movie, stated that those who speak in absolutes are influenced by the Dark Side of the Force. Wow. Now that is a counter cultural statement for America's media and for its Christian church.
The Christian church has made a point of depending upon absolute statements about life and God to maintain authority in the world. Who would have guessed that this is from the Dark Side--that is if we give Obi-Wan a voice in the church. I think we should. Contrastingly, many believers rely upon their knowledge of 'absolutes' to give them a firm foundation for their faith and Christian practice. Consequently, many crisis of faith are crisis of what we once held as absolute.
Could Obi-Wan be offering a futuristic warning in the same strain of the historic warning to the Corinthians? "...we know that 'all of us possess knowledge.' This 'knowledge' puffs up, but love builds up. If anyone imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know. But if anyone loves God, he is known by God" (I Cor. 8-1-3). I can almost imagine Yoda speaking those words.
Now obviously it is important to pursue knowledge...but what kind of knowledge? the absolute kind? the polarizing kind? The media like to polarize issues as much as anybody does. In fact, that is how you create an issue--you polarize it, you make it into extremes, you speak in absolutes. How many times have I been frustrated by questions and issues that appear to only have absolute answers. Am I for abortion or against it? Am I for the war or against it? Am I a Democrate or a Republican. It is not that simple. Watch the news and see how simply the media frames issues. Just about every issue has two sides as if it were only two dimensional.
Donnie Darko sat through a classroom session where his teacher made them watch a video about the power of fear to inhibit love. After the video was done she drew on the chalk board a straight line with 'Fear' written on the left side and 'Love' written on the right side. She explained that in any situation we are being motivated by one and the other. The goal is to free ourselves from the power of fear so that we may operate out of the freedom of love. To help the students see this reality she had them read a hypothetical situation and place an X on the continuum connecting fear and love based upon which motivational combination was compelling the hypothetical characters. Donnie Darko refused--and got angry.
He argued that life was not that simple. This two-dimensional diagram left no room for any other influential factors in the hypothetical situation. It overlooked the complexities found in real world scenarios. It boiled all of our emotions and motivations down to two categories. This was outrageous for Donnie Darko.
I will grant the teacher (and our churches and the media) that it helps to polarize issues for the sake of the learning environment--it makes teaching easier. However, it also teaches a simplistic and absolute view of the world. Overcome fear for love. I think that I have friends who have seen this video by Donnie Darko's teacher. This is not a bad principle I guess. But that is all that it is. It is a generality, not an absolute.
Maybe we are accustomed to speaking with such absolute, 'blanket', statements because it gives us a little more influence, respect, control and power--reflections of the Dark Side of the Force. Maybe the truth contains too many complexities for us that we feel as if we must speak in generalizations disguised as absolutes?
It could be that Obi-Wan and Darko are saying that it is time for us to deal with life's complexities. Maybe then faith and trust will take on new meanings.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Life II: A Lesson from Garden State
One of my favorite movies is Garden State. I recently looked up Garden State on Amazon and looked at what movies people either bought along with Garden State or after viewing Garden State. Strange. They are all some of my other favorite movies (i.e. Eternal Sunshine, Sideways, Anchorman, Finding Neverland, Lost in Translation and Donnie Darko). I deduct from this that there is a category of people out there that all watch the same movies. It appears that I fit this demographic fairly well.
Oh well...I still think that Garden State has something to say a wider demographic--for those who take the time to listen. The premise of the movie (proceed with a little caution if you have not seen it--although there really isn't a surprise ending: it is all about the process) is that a little boy (Andrew Largeman) is involved with an at-home accident that leaves his mother paralyzed. His father (Gideon Largeman), who is a psychologist, prescribes some drugs for his son to help him become happy again while later sending him off to a boarding school. He hasn't been home since. The movie begins when Andrew has to come home for his mother's funeral a decade later.
There are many interesting scenes that demonstrate how Andrew is so disconnected from the world that he just kind of lives on in a daze. What he is really disconnected with is himself...so much so that he often just blends in to his environments as if he didn't even exist. This movie is about the process of Andrew finding himself. Of course he does end up finding himself (to some degree). That is no surprise. What is important is how and in what manner.
Without telling you the story I want to highlight two conversations near the end of the movie. The first conversation occurs at the scene of his mothers death. He is sitting in the bathtub in which his mother drowned while talking with Sam (played by Natalie Portman). He sheds an important first tear which Sam humorously collects in a paper cup. The second scene happens directly afterward and involves the long put off conversation between Andrew and Gideon. Here they are edited and excerpted...
from Scene 21:
Andrew: "Fuck this hurts so much."
Sam: "Yeah, I know, but that is life. If nothing else that's life, you know? Its real. Sometime it feels like it hurts. Yeah. It's sort of all we have."
from Scene 22:
Gideon: "I am sure you can find lots of things in your life that you can be angry about. But what I don't understand is why you're so angry at me. All I ever wanted was for everyone to be happy again. That's all I ever wanted."
Andrew: "But when were we all ever happy dad? You always say that. When was this time that you have in your mind that we were all so happy...cause I don't have it in my memory. Maybe if I did I could help steer us back there...you know. You and I need to work at being ok if that is not in the cards for us... I'm not going to take those drugs anymore because they left me completely fucking numb. I have felt so fucking numb to everything that I have experienced in my life...and for that...for that I am here to forgive you. You have always said all you wanted was for us to have whatever it is we want... What I want more than anything in the world is for it to be ok with you for me to feel something again--even if it is pain."
"Going against your doctor's recommendation...that is a pretty witty experiment to take on. Don't you think?"
"This is my life dad. This is it. I've spent 26 years waiting for something else to start. So, no; No, I don't think it is too much to take on because it is everything that there is. I see now it's all there is. You and I are going to be ok. You know that, right? We may not be as happy as you have always dreamed we would be, but for the first time let us just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are...and that will be better. Ok? I think that will be better.
Somehow through Gideon's desire for his son to be happy and for him not to feel pain Andrew learned exactly that. He learned not to feel pain--to hold out for happiness. However, happy feelings never came. If you can't feel sad can you really feel happy? Consequently, Andrew became numb to the world.
I have met many people (including my self at times) that are numb to the world. Could it be that we are holding out for happiness? Are we protecting ourselves from disappointment? Are we afraid that our feelings will embarrass us by revealing too much--by making ourselves to vulnerable? Are we afraid of hurt? Probably.
In that case Garden State may be helpful for us. It is better to feel sad, to feel ok, than it is to feel numb, to feel disconnected. Is this true? Is there some beauty to be salvaged even from darkness? I think so.
If we are honest with ourselves then we may have to admit that we might be mostly sad. In light of hurricane Katrina and the war in Iraq sadness seems to be an appropriate emotion. Hereinlies the dilemma for many Christians. Do we have an outlet for our sadness? for our anger? Are we forced too quickly by our theology or Christian community to be happy? Has this so repeatedly happened that we now feel numb?
There has been a revitalization of the Lament in Christian tradition. The Bible is full of Lament. I don't read or hear many authentic and genuine lamentations in Christian community today. I here a few, but the sad fact is that not too many leaders are teaching us how to be sad--how to be angry. How then can we authentically rejoice? How then can we be grateful? How then can we feel at all.
I am grieved at how many bored people I see walking around and sitting in Sunday pews. Who is going to engage these people with their sadness? Instead, as a society and as a church, we distract these people from their sadness. We tell them to be happy. We tell them to hope. Now they feel wrong for not being happy. Now they don't feel.
Maybe what they need most is to say, "Fuck this hurts so much."
And maybe the church needs to affirm their act of feeling by saying, "Yeah, I know, but that is life. If nothing else that's life, you know? It's real. Sometime it feels like it hurts. Yeah, it's sort of all we have."
I can already hear the protests of some Christians. "No. That is not all we have. We have a future of hope. We have God's promises." I say to those Christian that you are disconnected with the life most of us are living. You are disconnected with Jesus' own tears over the death of his friend. You are disconnected with the beautiful gift of feeling that God has given to us--our access to participating in God's own heart.
Rather than holding out for something better...for some other happier life to start, maybe we need to recognize that at least for now this life is all there is. "You and I are going to be ok. You know that, right? We may not be as happy as you have always dreamed we would be, but for the first time let us just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are...and that will be better. Ok? I think that will be better."
Maybe our message to our Christian communities could be: "What I want more than anything in the world is for it to be ok with you for me to feel something again--even if it is pain." In this way maybe we will engage something inside of us that is very closely participating in the gift that God has given to us--the gift of our own lives.
Oh well...I still think that Garden State has something to say a wider demographic--for those who take the time to listen. The premise of the movie (proceed with a little caution if you have not seen it--although there really isn't a surprise ending: it is all about the process) is that a little boy (Andrew Largeman) is involved with an at-home accident that leaves his mother paralyzed. His father (Gideon Largeman), who is a psychologist, prescribes some drugs for his son to help him become happy again while later sending him off to a boarding school. He hasn't been home since. The movie begins when Andrew has to come home for his mother's funeral a decade later.
There are many interesting scenes that demonstrate how Andrew is so disconnected from the world that he just kind of lives on in a daze. What he is really disconnected with is himself...so much so that he often just blends in to his environments as if he didn't even exist. This movie is about the process of Andrew finding himself. Of course he does end up finding himself (to some degree). That is no surprise. What is important is how and in what manner.
Without telling you the story I want to highlight two conversations near the end of the movie. The first conversation occurs at the scene of his mothers death. He is sitting in the bathtub in which his mother drowned while talking with Sam (played by Natalie Portman). He sheds an important first tear which Sam humorously collects in a paper cup. The second scene happens directly afterward and involves the long put off conversation between Andrew and Gideon. Here they are edited and excerpted...
from Scene 21:
Andrew: "Fuck this hurts so much."
Sam: "Yeah, I know, but that is life. If nothing else that's life, you know? Its real. Sometime it feels like it hurts. Yeah. It's sort of all we have."
from Scene 22:
Gideon: "I am sure you can find lots of things in your life that you can be angry about. But what I don't understand is why you're so angry at me. All I ever wanted was for everyone to be happy again. That's all I ever wanted."
Andrew: "But when were we all ever happy dad? You always say that. When was this time that you have in your mind that we were all so happy...cause I don't have it in my memory. Maybe if I did I could help steer us back there...you know. You and I need to work at being ok if that is not in the cards for us... I'm not going to take those drugs anymore because they left me completely fucking numb. I have felt so fucking numb to everything that I have experienced in my life...and for that...for that I am here to forgive you. You have always said all you wanted was for us to have whatever it is we want... What I want more than anything in the world is for it to be ok with you for me to feel something again--even if it is pain."
"Going against your doctor's recommendation...that is a pretty witty experiment to take on. Don't you think?"
"This is my life dad. This is it. I've spent 26 years waiting for something else to start. So, no; No, I don't think it is too much to take on because it is everything that there is. I see now it's all there is. You and I are going to be ok. You know that, right? We may not be as happy as you have always dreamed we would be, but for the first time let us just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are...and that will be better. Ok? I think that will be better.
Somehow through Gideon's desire for his son to be happy and for him not to feel pain Andrew learned exactly that. He learned not to feel pain--to hold out for happiness. However, happy feelings never came. If you can't feel sad can you really feel happy? Consequently, Andrew became numb to the world.
I have met many people (including my self at times) that are numb to the world. Could it be that we are holding out for happiness? Are we protecting ourselves from disappointment? Are we afraid that our feelings will embarrass us by revealing too much--by making ourselves to vulnerable? Are we afraid of hurt? Probably.
In that case Garden State may be helpful for us. It is better to feel sad, to feel ok, than it is to feel numb, to feel disconnected. Is this true? Is there some beauty to be salvaged even from darkness? I think so.
If we are honest with ourselves then we may have to admit that we might be mostly sad. In light of hurricane Katrina and the war in Iraq sadness seems to be an appropriate emotion. Hereinlies the dilemma for many Christians. Do we have an outlet for our sadness? for our anger? Are we forced too quickly by our theology or Christian community to be happy? Has this so repeatedly happened that we now feel numb?
There has been a revitalization of the Lament in Christian tradition. The Bible is full of Lament. I don't read or hear many authentic and genuine lamentations in Christian community today. I here a few, but the sad fact is that not too many leaders are teaching us how to be sad--how to be angry. How then can we authentically rejoice? How then can we be grateful? How then can we feel at all.
I am grieved at how many bored people I see walking around and sitting in Sunday pews. Who is going to engage these people with their sadness? Instead, as a society and as a church, we distract these people from their sadness. We tell them to be happy. We tell them to hope. Now they feel wrong for not being happy. Now they don't feel.
Maybe what they need most is to say, "Fuck this hurts so much."
And maybe the church needs to affirm their act of feeling by saying, "Yeah, I know, but that is life. If nothing else that's life, you know? It's real. Sometime it feels like it hurts. Yeah, it's sort of all we have."
I can already hear the protests of some Christians. "No. That is not all we have. We have a future of hope. We have God's promises." I say to those Christian that you are disconnected with the life most of us are living. You are disconnected with Jesus' own tears over the death of his friend. You are disconnected with the beautiful gift of feeling that God has given to us--our access to participating in God's own heart.
Rather than holding out for something better...for some other happier life to start, maybe we need to recognize that at least for now this life is all there is. "You and I are going to be ok. You know that, right? We may not be as happy as you have always dreamed we would be, but for the first time let us just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are...and that will be better. Ok? I think that will be better."
Maybe our message to our Christian communities could be: "What I want more than anything in the world is for it to be ok with you for me to feel something again--even if it is pain." In this way maybe we will engage something inside of us that is very closely participating in the gift that God has given to us--the gift of our own lives.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Life I: A Lesson from Tombstone
I woke up this morning intending to post on the relationship between the final words of Doc Holiday to Wyatt Earp in the movie Tombstone with the ending of Garden State. After further reflection I decided that I had too much to say. So this is part I: A Lesson from Tombstone.
When I was a bachelor living in this house with three other guys we maintained a religious routine. We would all return from work; warm up our dinner in the microwave; sit on the couch; watch Judge Judy; laugh; watch a scene from Tombstone; quote it and act it out in reference to our day's work; laugh and cheer.
One of our roommates (who went to 4 years of school to be a police officer) had a Tombstone nickname that we all sang (yelled) in unison: John "smut-dog, law-dog, law don't go around here no more, law-dog, smut-dog" Schmutzer! (pronounced 'smutzer'). The nickname escalated in speed and loudness until Schmutzer was a frenzied cry. It sounded best after a few beers.
It turns out that those were formative times for me. Tombstone is now possibly the most quoted movie in my marriage (most of the quoting done by me, of course). Lately, I have been quoting Doc Holiday's last conversation to Wyatt Earp before Doc dies of TB: "There's no normal life, Wyatt. There's just life. Now get on with it." Here it is in context:
Doc: "What do you want?"
Wyatt: "Just to live a normal life."
"There's no normal life, Wyatt. There's just life. Now get on with it."
"Don't know how."
"Sure you do. Say goodbye to me. Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty and run. Don't look back. Live every second. Live right up to the hilt. Live Wyatt."
Often times my wife and I get stuck in a rut as we are attempting to figure out how to go about life. Which direction do we go? How do we get there? What are our goals? When life doesn't play out like it has been planned or anticipated we are back to the drawing board. It is a never ending cycle of re-evaluation. Life is always changing and never seems to reach that place of normalcy. Sometimes this is dissatisfying.
That is a perfect time to whip out a Tombstone quote. "There's no normal life. There's just life. Now get on with it." Perfect. Doc Holiday's quote gives freedom to me in those times I am caught trying to control my life's circumstances--even today as I long for a time where I won't have a desk full of paper work to do...or not knowing whether or not I will be deployed to Iraq next year.
Even though this is a message applicable to nearly everyone that I know, it may have a special application to Christians who attempt to control what life ‘should’ be about. I can picture King Solomon (possible author of Ecclesiastes and many proverbs; one of the richest and wisest persons ever to live) saying what Doc said to Wyatt.
Many Christians suffer like Wyatt Earp suffered. They don't know what to do with themselves. They are waiting and hoping that someone will tell them what to do with themselves. Each of our Christian communities has an idea of what the 'normal' Christian looks like. If you don't think so then go to your church and ask around what a Christian looks like--see how diverse the responses are.
I am guessing that some of the responses can closely identify with attempts to be one who "fears God and keeps his commandments." After all, Solomon concludes that this is the "whole duty of man." The attempt to do this certainly may not be normal in a broad, world wide, sense, but it is certainly normal for what a Christian is. Additionally, each Christian community has a common, 'normal,' way that they attempt to do this.
If we are not careful our pursuits of normality can hinder us from seeing a broader picture--a more diverse picture. How come answers to what a Christian looks like do not more closely resemble the rest of Ecclesiastes? What if life, 'who we should be,' was like the rest of the book as well. What would Christians be forced to see there? Could it include what Doc said to Wyatt?
Could it be to "Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty and run. Don't look back. Live every second. Live right up to the hilt. Live Wyatt."? Could it be that Wyatt was stuck in a rut thinking that he needed to figure out how to live a normal life--so stuck that he could not trust his own being, his own desires, and enjoy the adventurous unknowns life could bring him? Could it be that many Christians are stuck in this same rut? Of course I think so.
I don't think that I have ever been told by another Christian to do what is on my heart without also feeling like there is some spiritual agenda that my heart is supposed to reveal to me--something that would make my decision appear 'normal'. I have always wanted to "suck the marrow out of life" like they attempted to do in Dead Poets Society. I often need someone like Robin Williams to rip out the pages of my book of 'what I should do' and set me free. I need someone like Doc.
Only one person has ever read Ecclesiastes and told me to "Go, eat your bread in joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do. Let your garments be always white. Let not oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun" (Ecc. 9:7-9)--and for him I am grateful.
I often need someone to set me free from this generalized and idealistic pursuit of the 'normal' life. There is just life...so live every second. This could be from Doc and it could be from Solomon...
When I was a bachelor living in this house with three other guys we maintained a religious routine. We would all return from work; warm up our dinner in the microwave; sit on the couch; watch Judge Judy; laugh; watch a scene from Tombstone; quote it and act it out in reference to our day's work; laugh and cheer.
One of our roommates (who went to 4 years of school to be a police officer) had a Tombstone nickname that we all sang (yelled) in unison: John "smut-dog, law-dog, law don't go around here no more, law-dog, smut-dog" Schmutzer! (pronounced 'smutzer'). The nickname escalated in speed and loudness until Schmutzer was a frenzied cry. It sounded best after a few beers.
It turns out that those were formative times for me. Tombstone is now possibly the most quoted movie in my marriage (most of the quoting done by me, of course). Lately, I have been quoting Doc Holiday's last conversation to Wyatt Earp before Doc dies of TB: "There's no normal life, Wyatt. There's just life. Now get on with it." Here it is in context:
Doc: "What do you want?"
Wyatt: "Just to live a normal life."
"There's no normal life, Wyatt. There's just life. Now get on with it."
"Don't know how."
"Sure you do. Say goodbye to me. Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty and run. Don't look back. Live every second. Live right up to the hilt. Live Wyatt."
Often times my wife and I get stuck in a rut as we are attempting to figure out how to go about life. Which direction do we go? How do we get there? What are our goals? When life doesn't play out like it has been planned or anticipated we are back to the drawing board. It is a never ending cycle of re-evaluation. Life is always changing and never seems to reach that place of normalcy. Sometimes this is dissatisfying.
That is a perfect time to whip out a Tombstone quote. "There's no normal life. There's just life. Now get on with it." Perfect. Doc Holiday's quote gives freedom to me in those times I am caught trying to control my life's circumstances--even today as I long for a time where I won't have a desk full of paper work to do...or not knowing whether or not I will be deployed to Iraq next year.
Even though this is a message applicable to nearly everyone that I know, it may have a special application to Christians who attempt to control what life ‘should’ be about. I can picture King Solomon (possible author of Ecclesiastes and many proverbs; one of the richest and wisest persons ever to live) saying what Doc said to Wyatt.
Many Christians suffer like Wyatt Earp suffered. They don't know what to do with themselves. They are waiting and hoping that someone will tell them what to do with themselves. Each of our Christian communities has an idea of what the 'normal' Christian looks like. If you don't think so then go to your church and ask around what a Christian looks like--see how diverse the responses are.
I am guessing that some of the responses can closely identify with attempts to be one who "fears God and keeps his commandments." After all, Solomon concludes that this is the "whole duty of man." The attempt to do this certainly may not be normal in a broad, world wide, sense, but it is certainly normal for what a Christian is. Additionally, each Christian community has a common, 'normal,' way that they attempt to do this.
If we are not careful our pursuits of normality can hinder us from seeing a broader picture--a more diverse picture. How come answers to what a Christian looks like do not more closely resemble the rest of Ecclesiastes? What if life, 'who we should be,' was like the rest of the book as well. What would Christians be forced to see there? Could it include what Doc said to Wyatt?
Could it be to "Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty and run. Don't look back. Live every second. Live right up to the hilt. Live Wyatt."? Could it be that Wyatt was stuck in a rut thinking that he needed to figure out how to live a normal life--so stuck that he could not trust his own being, his own desires, and enjoy the adventurous unknowns life could bring him? Could it be that many Christians are stuck in this same rut? Of course I think so.
I don't think that I have ever been told by another Christian to do what is on my heart without also feeling like there is some spiritual agenda that my heart is supposed to reveal to me--something that would make my decision appear 'normal'. I have always wanted to "suck the marrow out of life" like they attempted to do in Dead Poets Society. I often need someone like Robin Williams to rip out the pages of my book of 'what I should do' and set me free. I need someone like Doc.
Only one person has ever read Ecclesiastes and told me to "Go, eat your bread in joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do. Let your garments be always white. Let not oil be lacking on your head. Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun" (Ecc. 9:7-9)--and for him I am grateful.
I often need someone to set me free from this generalized and idealistic pursuit of the 'normal' life. There is just life...so live every second. This could be from Doc and it could be from Solomon...
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Canoe Trip II: Cannon River
It has become a family tradition (almost) to canoe down the Cannon River in the summer time. This year the occasion was the result of Laura's birthday wish. She would have rather floated a tube down the river but I have a strong preference (not a phobia) against swimming in lakes, oceans and rivers. So we canoed.
Since this trip was the day after I returned from the Boundary Waters I was happy to let the canoe be taken by the current. I was sore. My main focus was to not tip grandma overboard during the low parts of the trip.
I didn't take the camera on the water, but thought that I would share what pictures I did take. I seem to be in a picture sharing mood lately. Maybe that is partly because my brain has taken a vacation for the summer.
We drive to an old town called Welch Village (est. 1860) nestled in the bluffs to get outfitted and ride up the river. There is not much in the town--my pictures cover about 50% of it. I would recommend the trip to anyone who wants a leisurely afternoon. We saw a lot of turtles, big birds, eagles and jumping fish.
Since this trip was the day after I returned from the Boundary Waters I was happy to let the canoe be taken by the current. I was sore. My main focus was to not tip grandma overboard during the low parts of the trip.
I didn't take the camera on the water, but thought that I would share what pictures I did take. I seem to be in a picture sharing mood lately. Maybe that is partly because my brain has taken a vacation for the summer.
We drive to an old town called Welch Village (est. 1860) nestled in the bluffs to get outfitted and ride up the river. There is not much in the town--my pictures cover about 50% of it. I would recommend the trip to anyone who wants a leisurely afternoon. We saw a lot of turtles, big birds, eagles and jumping fish.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Canoe Trip I: BWCAW
I just got back from a long weekend of playing hard. I am sore but loving the memories. A good friend of mine, Jon Kodet, invited me to go to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness on the Minnesota and Canada border. I had been camping there once before and jumped at the chance to go again.
We canoed and portaged into a campsite that we hence dubbed, St. Grog. Grog was the rum, water and kool-ade concoction that we choked down. I saw the best Northern Lights display that I have seen since I was a kid (no pictures though)--it was a vast white glow in the moonless northern sky with beams of white shooting up into space. The Milky Way was intense as well.
Jon and I were attacked by bats while doing some night fishing. Jon took it like a man and I whimpered like a school girl. There were about 20 bats circling our boat and dive bombing our lures--even while I was holding the lure in my hand.
I am thinking about planning a week-long trip next year. But until then I will just keep looking over my pictures. Here are a few (a lot) for you to look through. Most of them are self explanatory with the exception of the one where we were catching drinking water in the storm--but now you know. Enjoy...
Jon, Jason and Joe: this grog's for you.
We canoed and portaged into a campsite that we hence dubbed, St. Grog. Grog was the rum, water and kool-ade concoction that we choked down. I saw the best Northern Lights display that I have seen since I was a kid (no pictures though)--it was a vast white glow in the moonless northern sky with beams of white shooting up into space. The Milky Way was intense as well.
Jon and I were attacked by bats while doing some night fishing. Jon took it like a man and I whimpered like a school girl. There were about 20 bats circling our boat and dive bombing our lures--even while I was holding the lure in my hand.
I am thinking about planning a week-long trip next year. But until then I will just keep looking over my pictures. Here are a few (a lot) for you to look through. Most of them are self explanatory with the exception of the one where we were catching drinking water in the storm--but now you know. Enjoy...
Jon, Jason and Joe: this grog's for you.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Happy Birthday Wife
It is Laura's Birthday! She turns old today.
Is that mean? Probably. I think that it is funny. We make such a big deal about age...as if the best of life happens when we are young. Some of the best things in life only get better with age...like sex (I think) and wine and cheese and wisdom. Adventure doesn't stop with age...the adventures just become more meaningful.
Anyways...no matter how you measure age, 31 just isn't that old. It is just the beginning of old. I am being mean again. I can't stop laughing though...I am still in my 20s. Some day I will know what I am talking about.
All kidding aside, I wrote a poem once when I was overseas. It is to my Laura, my wife.
For those of you who repulse at mushy muck read no further. I am normally one of you, but since this is my wife and my poem I think that I am exempt from repulsion for today.
Here's to Laura (and a New Castle too):
Beautiful Eyes
full of soft lullabies
now staring alone into a
suspicious evening--
it's the night that
concerns me
I miss those eyes
tending to my peace--
now I toss before I sleep
a restless heart for none to keep
but I whisper prayers
of a timid heart--
bless my beautiful eyes
while I sojourn
that again they will sing
to the tune
of my goodnight
sleep
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