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Silly Snippits from Sunny Leedsworth
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| signature doorbell rings are just so important. |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|07:39 pm] |
There are a lot of times lately that my life feels like something that I'd like to fast-forward. I've always been a firm adherent to the saying that life is long, and the thought that "life is short" is utter nonsense. I think it feels this way because of anticipation and the lack of patience, as well as an inability to see the real purpose and value in the way things are now. I'm not saying they are pointless, just that they feel pointless. Sometimes. A lot of times I feel like I'm changing, and chances are good that that's worthwhile. But even so, these changes feel more preparatory than purposeful. That is to say, my current life feels more like means than ends. It gets confusing when I try to figure out what the ends are, really, and I have to admit that I have no idea. There are things I'd like to be working toward, but I don't know if they're ultimately going to happen, or if they're even what should happen. It's a real headache. The only answer I've got for what the ends are so far is God, which is the best answer. Unfortunately, it's a little vague.
Anyway, I don't want to do my homework. |
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| Mantras and so forth. |
[Aug. 28th, 2009|12:53 am] |
Something I've been trying to wrestle into a cohesive point this last year involves the only real point, (see also, purpose), being God Himself. But this has lead to a few small issues. What about everyday human affairs? Marital counseling, for instance, is related to God (assuming the marriage is built right), but is more about the marriage. That's the first example that comes to mind, anyway. So how is everything being centered on the purpose of God always useful?
A friend from my staff this last year told me last night that the only thing that matters is the will of God. This holds true, I think. When you think about it, everything apart from the will of God is completely vain, arbitrary, meaningless. In the long run, that is. I'm trying to think of something to the contrary, but I can't. Anything apart from the will of God is the will of self, which is the pursuit of individual happiness as the prime importance of one's life, which is, in delicatessens' terms, bologna.
Also, I want to have old fashioned dignity. In "The Man Who Was Thursday," everyone speaks with intelligence, wit, and presence, the kind that doesn't demand respect, but rather rightfully suggests it. As a horde of possible anarchists begin to march toward our heroes of Scotland Yard, one character, whose identity I can't mention for fear of spoiling the very convoluted plot, says this: "There is a great deal to be said for death; but if anyone has any preference for the other alternative, I strongly advise him to walk with me."
The next time I am in a potentially deadly situation, I sure hope I can keep some wit. |
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| List of thoughts. . . |
[Aug. 20th, 2009|02:17 am] |
1) It's a bummer that I can't sleep.
2) But on the other hand, I like being the resident night owl while Patrick is gone.
3) I've seen alcohol ruin far too many lives for me to drink it, ever. I just don't like it.
4) Truth is scary and lovely at once.
5) I never really gave up.
6) Surprisingly good album: Friday Night Lights soundtrack by Explosions in the Sky. Never would have seen that one coming.
7) Abstract lists mean everything you're thinking they might, e.g., "I wonder if that's what that means."
ATE) Unless of course that's not what I mean at all.
NEIN) I like to misspell numbers as real words.
10) Cowboys. I would have been a good one. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2009|11:21 pm] |
This is weird. I've noticed lately that there's something about people that I can't take seriously. I'm not sure exactly how to describe it. Look at pictures like these:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/jase010/3100222800/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hamedmasoumi/1462777588/in/set-72157600318256992/
vs.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bigawk/5723940/in/set-170496/
I'm not interested here in whether these are good photos or not. They're okay, I guess. But what's interesting to me is that the more concrete an image of a human being is, the less emotion it conveys. I think it generally works the other way 'round, but now it's gone topsy-turvy for me. With the two former pictures, you can imagine the shoot. These people are breathing, moving, speaking, and as such, it's easier to be more familiar with what shows in the photograph, because you can relate. A drawing, or anything more abstract than a standard photograph, can sometimes find a balance between what's familiar and what's abstract. Basically, you can see something, or someone, with an emotion that's familiar, but with an element of otherness that not only makes it more interesting, but, well, different. To oversimplify it, I have seen a look of confidence before in real life. But when art can show a human look of confidence in different tones and proportions, hues, or even timbres (because music can do the same thing), than what I can easily and realistically relate to, it's more interesting. Suffice to say, the first two photographs don't show me anything that was previously unimaginable, while a simple sketch can do this much more easily. Hence the idea of drawing as realistically as possible is nonsense to me, because one could see reality by looking around anytime of day, and it's a whole lot of talent poured into something that just reminds the viewer of familiar human experiences. But when a drawing is grounded in enough realism to be coherent, but different enough to be refreshing and reveletory, you can use your imagination to see reality with something new. This is what I mean when I say I can't take people seriously, simply because I'm a person and I experience all the time how goofy it is to be human.
The value of human life, on the other hand, is increasing a lot in my book.
I now have an ID badge from UGM that says "The MAIN MAN: Alec Wetherington." I'm keeping this thing for-freaking-ever.
Also, I want to go home. |
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| Idea, mon. |
[Jul. 30th, 2009|10:44 pm] |
I was thinking about a social experiment on the bus tonight. It wouldn't have anything to do with Sociology, or science (and it's worth mentioning that I don't think those two have much to do with each other). A better word than "experiment" would be "project." Total honesty - as in, transparent lives. For example, what if it were possible for anyone to know what anyone was doing with his or her life, at any time in reality, but this would only be possible because anytime anyone asked anyone anything, the answer would always be the truth. Basically, what if everyone lived lives that didn't involve keeping anything hidden or out of sight? This would require a substantial amount of understanding, for one. For example, I sometimes hear from people I consider good friends, be it a text message or an internet-communication of some kind or phone call or, on very rare occasions, a letter. But I don't often reply in a timely fashion, and sometimes I never reply at all. I feel that to get out of this, I sometimes have to do an implied lie, which is where, by not picking up the phone, the person assumes that I am busy. I plan these out, because it's kind of a cover story for my not answering the phone. Many times I am not busy, and the reason I don't get back to the person is usually unknown to me - suffice to say I'm not in a bad mood, or a state where I don't want to see anyone, or anything like that - I just don't feel like communicating with another human being right then. This is a selfish feeling, which has gotten so much worse in the last year that I'm sure I've hurt a few feelings. This is because "he/she doesn't want to talk to you right now because he/she doesn't feel like it" is typically a hurtful thing for anyone to realize: I've been burned by this feeling quite a few times. But if everyone understood those strange reasons that we sometimes don't pick up the phone, then we wouldn't have to lie to our friends, implicitly or directly. I guess that's kind of a tangent to the beginning of this post, but it's relevant nonetheless. This public, interpersonal, and free-of-charge understanding, that could enable a nothing-but-the-whole-truth world, is of course impossible, as is pretty much any utopian idea about anything at all unless it's the actual end of the world. Also, the truth-world would require people to do only those things which they are okay with others knowing about, and we're a long way from that. On a side note, I have always been and am very much looking forward to the end of the world.
One thing that's fun to do - making random Top Five lists. When I say lists, I don't mean for anyone to spend money on loads of unnecessary stationary and pens: lists of five are often easy to remember, and moleskins are overpriced. Just compile mental top five lists during spare time - riding the bus, for instance. It's been helpful to sort things out:
Top Five favorite recording artists: Sufjan Stevens, Elliott Smith, The Innocence Mission, Pavement, and Weezer.
Top Five future careers/jobs: Musician, Public Service (UGM internship = good things), Hermetic Writer, Pearl Diver (dream since high school), Batman AKA Bob Goff (the real life Batman).
Top Five favorite sounds: Professional orchestra tuning together before the performance, whispering, heavy rain, snow clumps falling off of trees, that sound I heard when I was nine and the two branches holding me *popped* off of the tree at the same time and I fell mesmerized by the sound before I got knocked out on the ground.
Things like that. Also, these have been clearly influenced by the movie High Fidelity. I think movies have influenced me way too much. When I dream, I dream in cinematic camera angles, third person, watching the dream happen from interesting shots. I never dream in first person, and I think it's because I grew up absorbing the visual perspective of how Hollywood shows us the world. Did people in Medieval days dream in third person? I wouldn't think so, but I can't exactly say no, because I missed out on that period. Come to think of it, I don't think it's ever going to be possible to know that. That's a weird thought.
I got work in the morning. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 16th, 2009|01:17 am] |
I had to do a follow-up post. A side note, if you will.
Union Gospel Mission going to be changing my life twice a week. At least I'm pretty sure of this, because I've been twice, and so far it's 2 for 2. I'm an intern, which means I hand out tickets to mats for the night, do paperwork, give breathalyzers, call 911 detox for the occasional case of alcohol poisoning (twice within 10 minutes tonight), and mostly, spend 4 hours two nights a week with the most incredible people I've ever met, hands down, no contest. Most of the "bouncers" I work with are ex addicts of some kind, who are either graduates of or currently in the rehab program, from all parts of the country (Joseph from Brooklyn is my favorite, but they're all so cool). They also know more scripture and pray with more earnestness than anyone I've met, professors and preachers included. It's simple - they need Jesus the most, they depend on Jesus the most, and they reflect Jesus the most. I met Jesus twice this week. I'm going back tomorrow.
I'm not exaggerating in any way, shape, or other polygonal form. It's been the coolest thing I've EVER done, and I get to do it for the next year, at least. The way it happened really came out of nowhere, too. BAM - Unpaid Internship. BAM - Holy Spirit busts a move. BAM - Jesus saves. Come see the proof.
God is SO GOOD. |
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| "Apparently, you haven't broken into as many cars as I have." |
[Jul. 8th, 2009|02:19 pm] |
That title was taken from a conversation I overhead between two mechanics today, who were busy trying to fix an oven. It stood out. A competing title was, "you're one of them spring chickens. Me, I'm a sprung chicken." Which William (the best card-swiper this side of the Mississippi) said to me today to tell me I am young and he is not. I'm still not sure which of the two I like better.
I keep wanting to post, and sometimes I start a line or two, but then I lose steam and run out of things to say. I think my brain chemistry is changing, very quickly, and for little apparent reason. For instance, I just got a job in the beloved Gwinn Commons, which is far from a bad gig. I get free food, it's five minutes away on my chevrolegs, and it's both easy and honorable: a majestically rare combination. I work three or four mornings a week, and on said mornings, arrive at seven AM. Having fallen into the lazy and unemployed sleep schedule of bed by four AM, rise at one PM, I thought it would take some adjusting to rise at 6:30 and sing with the roosters. But for some reason, no matter how late I go to bed, I've been waking up naturally around 5, sometimes 4:30 AM. I don't really feel rested, I just wake up and can't doze off again, and it's not for lack of trying. So this has been somewhat annoying, because, as fun as the unusualness of it can be, I'm often quite sleepy. It's freaking me out a little, because my brain has never worked this way before and I'm not sure why it's starting now.
Also, I've been wanting to see people less, and living hermetically enough to raise some Franciscan eyebrows. I think I play the introvert card a little too often, but it still feels like it's getting stronger- I have this inability to spend time with other people without feeling burnt out. I retreat to the basement a lot, or leave and read at the canal, or tinker with my computer to make things like a beard-less Abraham Lincoln stencil. So my sleeping and social patterns have been changing pretty drastically and I don't know why, and if I could sit down and talk to my subconscious I would tell it that it has some explaining to do. But to make that sound less Freudian, I guess my poor subconscious would probably tell me to quit whining and take responsibility for myself, that it has better things to do than puppet me around. But does it? What does a subconscious do? And what does it even look like? New project.
But now that all the complaints are on paper (kind of), summer has been pretty and life is interesting. My friend Chris Kyle, who is wonderful, spends a lot of time volunteering at Union Gospel Mission, sitting at the front desk to welcome people coming in, and as he describes it "being the first impression of Jesus they see when they come in," to give UGM a god rep. I asked if I could do that and he said YEAH and I really want to follow through on this one. In fact, I'm gonna.
Incidentally, I've noticed I have a sort of pride for writing words in onamoetapoetic slang, such as "whattya, whatcha/whatchu doin', gonna, woulda, shoulda, hadn'ta, sup, and coo." Power to the people.
I read an introduction to an issue of IMAGE, which is an excellent publication of fiction and other sorts of interesting bits of prose, produced from people who are closely tied in with SPU, and was pretty struck by it. Gregory Wolf wrote an essay on the dangers of sentimentality, springboarding from the example of a Thomas Kinkade painting. He quoted Oscar Wilde, who said that a sentimental person is one "who desires to have the luxury of an emotion without paying for it." Reading this essay brought two things to my attention. Firstly, Gregory Wolfe is a great writer, and I'm very glad to be at SPU, and taking a Modern Fiction class from his excellent and British wife in the Winter. I'm glad I get to learn about this kind of thing. Secondly, I think sentimentality is a huge danger for me. It definitely has come up quite often in my writing, as you can probably see if you read a post or two from a year or so ago. But it's also been in my behavior and thought processes way too often, and I think if I had thought more carefully about what an emotion is really worth, then the last two years would have been a lot less disastrous and depressing, and it's fair to say that I may have damaged a few choice friendships much less than I ended up doing. I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger, to quote The Faces.
Anyway, cheap emotion, much like cheap grace, is no friend to anybody and is one of those few things that ought to be dealt with swiftly and harshly before it does any more harm, much like a hornets' nest, or the aroma of bleu cheese.
Writing in this is really nice. I may do this again. Here's an issue though: I don't know many people who have LJ's (though certainly a select few who matter much to me), and a lot of neat people have those nice little blogspot or wordpress gigs. So do I sell out, bite the bullet, and start writing in a blogspot so people I know will actually see it? I like reading a lot of people's blogs (that sounds gramatically fishy, but I can't figure out what's wrong. . .). Maybe it would be handy. But I like LJ: it's more nostalgic, and I suppose it's not always about how many acquaintances I can get to read this stuff. So I'm in a quandary. For now, I'll stay an LJ purist. Blogspot can await my decision. Life is long.
BEARD ME
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| Motivation |
[Jun. 23rd, 2009|01:04 pm] |
I found a ceritfiable cache of Chesterton today in the library, so much that I was daunted by the sheer sight of it. There's no way I can read all this. It's intimidating. But I took a crack at a random essay, called "A Piece of Chalk," and it was brilliant. This is why I'm studying Theology and English.
"One of the wise and awful truths which this brown-paper art reveals, is this, that white is a colour. It is not a mere absense of colour; it is a shining and affirmative thing, as fierce as red, as definite as black. When (so to speak) your pencil grows red-hot, it draws roses; when it grows white-hot, it draws stars. And one of the two or three defiant verities of the best religious morality, of real Christianity for example, is exactly this same thing; the chief assertion of religious morality is that white is a colour. Virtue is not the absence of vices or the avoidance of moral dangers; virtue is a vivid and separate thing, like pain or a particular smell. Mercy does not mean not being cruel or sparing people revenge or punishment; it means a plain and positive thing like the sun, which one has either seen or not seen. Chastity does not mean abstention from sexual wrong; it means something flaming, like Joan of Arc. In a word, God paints in many colours; but He never paints so gorgeously, I had almost said so gaudily, as when He paints in white. In a sense our age has realized this fact, and expressed it in our sullen costume. For if it were really true that white was a blank and colourless thing, negative and non-committal, then white would be used instead of black and grey for the funeral dress of this pessimistic period. We should see city gentlemen in frock coats of spotless silver satin, with top hats as white as wonderful arum lilies. Which is not the case.
Meanwhile, I could not find my chalk."
It's really good.
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| I'll order you a red hat and a speedo. |
[Jun. 4th, 2009|03:12 am] |
I'm back to plan A or plan B. Two plans for life, constitutive upon various things, that between them cover all the bases. Both are good.
I can't write what they actually are in here, because people might read this thing. But if you ask me, I'll probably tell you. That's another thing. Transparency. I need that.
Welp. |
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| honest-tea |
[May. 22nd, 2009|01:42 am] |
The premise behind this post is that it's all going to be very honest - I've noticed that I'm not brutally honest, but I have the tendency to be uncomfortably honest. As in, often times I bring things up that are going on under the surface between people, whether it involves me or not, and they're the kinds of things that people are aware of but on a personal level that they never intended to be discussed. Sometimes this has led to great relationships between people, because honesty is sometimes helpful. I have a lack of discretion though, and sometimes this has led to more harm than good. So that said, I think it's fair to say that when I write in this livejournal, especially when it's friend-locked, I'm writing to an audience of people I hold very dear, a lot of whom I still consider to be my very closest friends, in spite of the fact that some of these relationships have unpleasantries between them in varying degrees that I wish weren't there. But I can't say I've done a great job toward removing them, so instead of complaining about it, just know that when I lock an entry, and you can see it, then I still care about you and think you're incredible, whether I know why or not, and whether or not things are or aren't the best they've been between you and me. And of course, other people read these who I don't know particularly well, but they seem alright to me and I don't know what makes these interesting enough to read but if anyone does read them, then that's a good thing. People are interesting, and so is vulnerability, and I think that's why I love reading very personal writings - kind of that little brother, diary-stealing tendency that I still have, on some level.
I really need to go to sleep now, but my night-owl patterns from the summer are coming back pretty strong. I think it's because I'd really like it to be summer and my body is ready to stay up late, get up early, take naps in the evening. Which is what I've been doing for the last week or so. It's had some benefits - I saw two raccoons eat a bird from my window a while ago. It was terrifying. Still, not the kind of thing you see everyday. Also, nature is brutal and mean.
I have to get up kind of soon. I'd like to go to sleep. But I haven't really said what I wanted to say yet. But now I've forgotten what that is. Oh yeah.
LEADERSHIP!
I'm growing cautious when I hear this word, now. People are drawn to the leader-types. But leader-types are distinct because they're the minority - i.e., there are more followers than leaders in a given mob. Yet for some reason, I'm seeing a lot of this idealogy where it is very important to demonstrate that YOU are a LEADER, and if you aren't a LEADER, you need to be. I find this very problematic, because of the concept of human worth and value. See, the consequences for trying to push everyone to find their LEADERship lie in the fact that not everyone is supposed to be a leader. I really believe that people are wired differently. And a leader, by definition, has followers. One leader leads more than one follower. So on average and by definition, leaders are supposed to be a minority. But we run into problems when we push the idea that everyone needs to be a leader. This implies that leadership is a more valuable and worth-filled quality than its opposite, whatever that is. But because leaders are a minority, this makes good LEADERS feel very important, while people struggling to lead things, when they aren't very good at it, feel less valuable because they aren't as capable. And this is flawed. People are valuable in several ways - as a whole, and as individuals, but not as leaders of the rest. Basically, it makes everyone who is an inept leader, but a dedicated follower, feel less valuable, or less important, or maybe even expendable. And I don't like this. Not at all. I don't want to think that I'm better because I'm in what my school calls a position of leadership (and I often wonder if I'm supposed to be a "leader"), and I don't want the people in charge of others to feel more valuable than those they're in charge of. Philisophically, this is a pretty elitist system. And theologically, it's completely backwards from Christianity, in which the very least is the greatest, precisely because they are the very least. And I mean the lowly - in Jesus' time it was beggers, lepers, prostitutes, tax collecters, and so on. In ours it's McDonalds employees, agricultural-working immigrants, the homeless, etc. People that our society doesn't see much worth in. I think this is flawed.
However, there are good things about leadership. Mars Hill said that good leaders are teachable - as in, open to rebuke, criticism, and willing to recognize that they don't run the show, they only direct it, and should only do so when doing it right, because people will always, always, always have moments of doing things wrong. I like this very much. This makes the role of leaders look more like servants - those who work for the people "under" them, who listen to their people, who help and serve them. Servitude is a much more valuable concept than "leadership." At least I think so.
This is complicated for me when I think of families. I like families. I would like to fill the paternal role in a family, someday, which might be a too-honest-thing to say, but I'm really not saying it to show off. It's a genuine desire. And yes, I can see instances where it's valuable for a family to have a strong leader. But that family will be served very well if the leader is more like a servant - that is, if I were a father, to love my family more than myself, more than my own body. That's servitude, the kind that resembles Christ and the Church, maybe even Christ and the human race. This is perhaps a flawed assestment, given that I've never had a great model for the structure of a family in my own life. But it seems like a family helmed by a servant is a better structure than one helmed by a General over a troop. Leaders aren't worth more. They're just there to help.
I will get off my high horse now and go to sleep. I'm sorry if this sounds too, well, brash. It was just bothering me.
I think too much of what I think, sometimes. At least that's how I feel, right now. I still need to grow up.
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| To Do List |
[May. 21st, 2009|02:13 am] |
1) Be cheery.
2) Be cheery!
3) Take time with things to look for meaning in them. No more glossing over.
4) Hate evil, cling to what is good, etc.
(5 Switch it up?
6) Create.
7) Stand up.
8) Sit down.
9) Grow up. |
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| Here's the thing. . . |
[Apr. 2nd, 2009|12:13 am] |
Actually, I have no idea where or what the thing is. It just felt like the post ought to start with that.
1) Today I realized that I like to learn. I've told myself that I like to learn for a long time, but I think I've been lying to myself. Today I very much enjoyed learning about the Celtic and Germanic origins of Old English. I also decided to unofficially audit a Biblical Theology class by my favorite professor, just to hear the class, because I know it will be interesting. I'm really happy with this, because I feel like I'm in college to learn things now. Incidentally, this professor is the one who gave me the lowest grade I've ever had in college in his course last fall, but who cares. He's smart. I also spent some time in UCOR today diagramming some choice sentences from the syllabus. It's very fun. I miss Advanced Grammar.
2) The way I'm writing reminds me of the way Nick writes.
3) I've felt very mature all day. Not sure how I feel about that.
4) I'm all set up to live, and work, and do all those things that adults do. It's kind of a secure feeling, but also kind of uncomfortable. My friend Ben Rowe, who writes incredible songs, has a new one called "Adults Don't Run." It's a fun song with a fat beat. But the first line is:
"Adults don't run.
They walk.
They sit at tables, play dominoes and talk."
All quirkiness aside, it hits me. I hope I still run from time to time (and I don't mean jog).
Typically, when you (the existential "you") write a post, you start it with a certain topic in mind; usually an event, or a culmination of events, or something similar to that. I had one of those when I started this. Usually, however, you write about a few other things: perhaps you throw in some lovely prose, engaging metaphors, or even better, a few plays on words. I don't think I have any of those right now. But what I meant to say is that today, I sorted out my priorities. It surprised me what they were. But I'm very glad that things are in order. I asked myself what things matter most to me, and then I learned that I've known for years. So I made an infinite-year plan. It's not actually going to take an infinite number of years - it will probably take somewhere from five to eighty. I realize this is all quite cryptic. But I already have the first two steps.
Step one - get a haircut. Step two - sort out career. One of these is going to be sooner and easier. And then Step 3 - run.
(What a nice little punchline there, at the end, don't you think)? |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 11th, 2009|11:21 pm] |
I have been doing things wrong my entire life.
And now I feel like I don't have any time to do things right.
Not that I know what that is.
But I'm not a good person.
Not that anyone is, really.
I'm tired of "not thats."
And I'm tired of wasting my time and my life.
And not doing anything about it. |
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| Anniversary |
[Jan. 8th, 2009|01:30 am] |
You know, there is a point where a line needs to be decided and drawn between maturity and cynicism. I need to be careful about this. I feel like I'm growing up- and it's a great feeling. But I also see how cynically I can look at things when they would otherwise hurt a lot more. I'm excited to know you, maturity, really, I am. But I have a few conditions for you before we can complete this arrangement:
1) I get to keep my imagination.
2) You can't come to me with excessive and annoying amounts of cynicism, skepticism, or other forms of jaded-ness.
3) I still get to believe in love.
4) You can't give me the attitude that it's alright to toss people or a person away, because I know that one will be everyone, or let me think that I am the most important person in my life.
If this looks okay to you, then perhaps we can make an agreement soon.
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INTERMISSION
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Tonight marked an important event. I was singing at group. This is no surprise. I like to sing, I like God, and doing the former to venerate the latter means a lot to me. I also do it pretty often, so that shouldn't be a surprise either. But the important event traces back to an unfortunate circumstance that goes back a year or two or three or something.
The last year and a half, nearly, has been almost entirely terrible. I'd say about 90% of my time, sleeping included, has been devoured by a sort of hopeless-romantic-lonely-broken-hearted-insensible-irrational-gnawing in the back (all the time) and the front (most the time) of my brain and my heart (and sometimes my hands shake too). Think of a song by The Smiths, and then find yourself trapped in it ("trapped," a word which here means that I absolutely could not find a way out of it no matter where I looked or what I tried) repetitively and consciously for over a year straight. (All of this complaining is working to a good theme.) Tonight, as I was singing, there was a moment that it vanished. Not even in a way of pushing it to the back of my head- it had evaporated. And I was singing to the LORD God of hosts, whose glory fills Heaven and Earth, and it felt almost as cheesy as it sounds, but real. It was the first time that I haven't had this feeling hanging around my throat since any of this happened. It didn't happen because I did something right with the other person, or the other person spoke or did anything to show me anything at all. Neither of those things happened. It just happened because God loves me and heard me singing to Him and came down to listen. It was the first real chip on a very large millstone.
I imagine different scenarios right away afterwards, and run them over in my head, and it turns out that the millstone is still there. It has been easier to carry lately, but it was just as big. But tonight God chipped it. And so something clicked in my brain, went down through the heart, and up to my mouth where I may have smiled like an idiot before frowning with the thought of what this really means. But then that made me smile again.
I have done everything, everything, every thing I can.
I give up.
I am giving up so I can start growing up.
I'm not much good to anybody while I'm tied in ropes.
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[Dec. 25th, 2008|12:14 am] |
Catholic Midnight Mass in rural Idaho = "warshed clean by the blood of the Lamb." Beautiful. So beautiful.
Merry Merry
I have never really paid attention to the words in this hymn, but it was sung tonight and I think it's super-neat.
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing. Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessèd angels sing. Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing. And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing! For lo!, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
LOVE.
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| rabblerousering |
[Oct. 9th, 2008|10:48 am] |
Life has been showing itself to be what no one thinks it will. It keeps doing this and doing this and people just don't get it. I feel like it's the same way with God. The way God is unchanging, and He is, but no one actually, fully understands what God is like in the first place. It isn't from His lack of revelation, but our unwillingness to understand.
I've been meeting with a group of young men who are pursuing God, at least that's how they would say it. Which is not to say they aren't, but sometimes when we're all praying I'm worried that we're pursuing our idea of God, and not stopping to ask God where He really is and what He really wants. We all went around the circle and introduced ourselves and where we feel we're at spiritually. And I wanted to really invest in this group, so I was as honest as I could be. I explained that the last year has been much more depressed than happy, and I still don't really feel very healed, and I know I kind of put on a certain callousness most of the time to deal with it. And I could tell from most of these men's reactions that they didn't think it lined up, that no one who reads the word and prays with them and knows God loves him can be feeling blue. It's odd, because I was being as honest as I could possibly have been, and because of that, I don't think I was very trusted. Which is frustrating, to say the least.
It seems like there are so many great Christians here, and there are. But there are so many with this instant, quick-fix idea of God. That if you are sad about anything, one group prayer will entirely redeem and resolve the matter in your heart. There are great deal less people who are open to the idea that life is gradual, and in my life, that's how God usually works: gradually. Healing can take a really long time, and I think it's because there's so much more beauty and worth in God being there with us as we're hurting, and then still being there as we're still hurting. Like we really see God's grace and love the first time we fall down the mountain. And He picks us up and gets us to walkin'. But God isn't like other people. We get halfway up the mountain and memories come back and we start feeling blue again and slowly, gradually slide back down, until we sit at the bottom, hopeless. And almost no other person would put up with a slow slider, but we can see GOd with us, the entire time. And at the bottom, we need Him most, and He'd never be anywhere else but with us.
This quick fix God is even more taxed when people are asking for healings, signs, and wonders. At one prayer group, our friend was adamant that we should all pray for his ankle, which had been sprained a long time ago and still felt sore sometimes on cold days. And almost everyone began asking God for instant, miraculous healing of his ankle, while one of the other apprehensive kids and I kind of held back. And when it was the other boy's turn, he said something like "God, this doesn't seem like you. It's just an ankle. But if You want it healed, then I ask that it would be." I prayed something similar. Our prayers didn't sit very well with the others. So afterwards we all talked about the nature of healings and signs, and they were all talking about how it's God's will for us to be unblemished, healthy, and perfectly, physically healed. Which I don't see in the Bible. It seems more like GOd's will for us is to be trusting, and hopeful, and loving, and faithful, regardless of how ill or hurt we may be. I mentioned the time when the Pharisees ask Jesus for a sign, and he harshly rebukes them. He called them a wicked and adulterous generation, in fact. And they didn't want to really consider this. They said "He says that because it's context-specific. They're Pharisees, and he's really saying something about the nature of Pharisee-ism." And I don't really think that's true. I think He meant exactly what He said. Don't our bodies heal themselves over time? Who designed them to do that?
I just think God is more crazy about love and loving than He is about supernatural sensationalism. And maybe we ought to let Him heal our broken humanity as the real God who seems to like working slowly and precisely, like a old man who makes and then repairs pocketwatches. Isn't that more meaningful than a human idea of God who acts like an instantly accessible buffet of emotional and physical quick-fixes and obeys our every plea? Aren't we the ones who are supposed to be obeying Him?
It scares me how seriously God doesn't want us to give up on people, or leave people from our pasts intentionally behind, because of how much He would never, ever do that. I think I ought to make a few frightening phone calls. He is risen. |
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| sheepbulb. |
[Sep. 21st, 2008|12:37 am] |
There is guilt in me for not writing lately. Or for a long time, for that matter. Let's hear it for the fourth time saying "for".
I am reminded of how I acted in high school around the obnoxious boys. I would stare ahead and actively daydream and willfully ignore them and whatever they had to say to each other. It doesn't seem like the best way to love humanity, but I'm not really sure how to do that in those situations. Not that that's an easy task for anybody. Or that I really know what that means.
It's fun to look at pictures of places that look foreboding and imagine yourself there. Not really so much for being in a scary place, but then imagining what circumstances brought you there, and how you need to be free from the place. I think of it as a cloudy day on the Falkland Islands or Iceland. Maybe. Maybeezle.
I don't know if I'm honest enough to be a good writer. I hope I have enough to be a good person. I think I do, but how can an issue like the kind of person I am be up to me? Then everybody would be a good person because he/she would proclaim it and the fact would stand forever like that flag on the moon. And that cold, greyscale flag doesn't really change anything about what kind of moon the moon is. So why should what I think about me change anything about what kind of person I am?
I am happy to be where I am, and at least okay with when. The things that God is asking of me are more apparent and I want them too. I shared my life story tonight, and I didn't realize before that it's a good story. I really do find it interesting. All of the life stories I've heard so far have been incredible. People's lives are so multilayered, and most of the layers are seldom seen and they're all really interesting and often profound. I don't want to quote famous writers, just remember things from normal people's lives.
I ought to sleep. It is late and there are things to do. And I have the light on because my lamp is bereft of bulb and my roommate is asleep but I think it's probably less pleasant sleep than it would be if I just turned the lights out already and went to bed. |
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| knight light |
[Aug. 2nd, 2008|05:39 am] |
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The sun is already up, and I haven't slept. I like to update once in a while. I'm thankful for the way clouds swirl into the sky. I'm thankful for the birds who can whistle like I can't, and the one that sometimes wakes me up too early by whistling in ways I wouldn't like to. Time we spend alive is time spent with God, either silent and awkward and bitter or loved and grateful and joyous. Water is truly a strange substance and will never stop being fascinating to me. The institutions of relationships are built into creation, love is different than and better than we think, and the human race will never cease to be puzzled by looking at the sky, be it day or night. |
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| The Valiant Return of Albert Ross: Plummeting. |
[Jul. 20th, 2008|03:18 pm] |
DIRECTORY
1) Recommendations
2) Observations
3) Miscellanies and Conclusion
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1
~ I like this song and the video with which it syncs. The song mostly. It makes me smile quiet.
~St. Francis of Assisi by G.K. Chesterton is a really really good book.
2
~ If we were created by God to love, then we need hope to do it. So lately I have been trying to be a machine whose fuel is hope and exhaust is love, or a plant who does the same conversion photosynthetically. It has been off to a rough start, but what hasn't.
~ I haven't been without a sense of missing once for almost 9 months, and sometimes it burns me out, but if I'm completely honest with myself, I'll be okay.
~ Yadayadayada. If that were a band, I'd give them a listen.
~ Some people are amazing.
~ I miss Seattle.
3
~I had a dream last night that there was a giant chicken monster (seriously, about the size of a large dog) in my friend's basement, and we and the guy who plays Peter Parker's rude boss at the newspaper in the Spiderman movies had to wait upstairs for it to break the door, after which we shot at it with 18th century muskets. I haven't seen Spiderman for a long time, so that was very weird. |
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