no deal

Some day they'll open up your world
Shake it down on a drawing board
Do their best to change you
They still can't erase you... "Hand Me Down" Matchbox 20

God must have incredible eyes.  To be able to see past all the numbers and probabilities like that.  To be able to see how we will fall so far and so hard, and yet still have the nearly insane capacity to get up again and again.

I saw "Billy Jack" when I was about ten years old.  I saw "The Hiding Place" before that.  I think my mom took me to it when I was five or maybe seven.  Today, something like that might be considered abuse.  Truth telling feels like that sometimes.  I am not sure which came first--the impression those two stories had on my identity or the identity that greeted them when they arrived.

The picture above has been on this site for a long time.  On the one hand, I feel a little bad about this because I used to work hard to match the picture with the blog entry.  But today it feels kind of right.  That strange looking bucket of bolts is the "Serenity."  It is the ship from the film of the same name, inspired by the brief TV series, "Firefly."  The ship carries a modest crew.  Seven (or eight if you count Inara) live on board the Serenity.  They live in-between.  They neither serve the empire nor are they overtly raging against it.  Being an outlier is not easy but it does have it's benefits.  Hence the name of the ship.

The ships captain is Mal Reynolds, a very human ex-soldier who has seen and suffered enough of the trappings of waging someone else's war.  He does his best to keep his ship and friends clear of the prying eyes of the empire and the trouble of such entanglements.

Romans 13 (by no means my favorite chapter of the Bible) states, "owe nothing to anyone except to love one another. for he who loves his neighbor has fulfilled the law."  Wisdom, indeed, in a world where debt binds tightly,  and so undermines serenity.  

In the film, there comes a time when Mal has to make a hard decision.  It is Hollywood in that regard.  But the story doesn't end with the battle, but with its conclusion when Serenity takes to flight again.  And the handful of in-betweeners are allowed to be, and to go their way into the multiverses without the chains and prying eyes of someone else's defining.

Here's a blessing:  A live version of "Hand Me Down."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HZ3dS-GnuA

Advent Wisdom

I have a friend.  At least I think that I do.  She and I seem to flit in and out of one another's lives from time to time.  She has a deep wisdom that has been forged over time.  It has been forged in experience as well as knowledge--the kind that is gained through reading and handed on from generation to generation.

Wisdom is something that is hard to measure.  It's is a treasure.  But treasures can become diminished if they cannot be rightly (and lightly) carried.  On the one hand, it is good to be wise and wisdom is one of those things that carries you, especially in those more difficult stretches.  However, it can also feel like a burden.  Like a backpack that you take with you even when you are going on a short hike.  Like a reliable backpack, experience and knowledge are not easily set aside, even in moments of rest.  But that can be cumbersome at times, a bit like bringing an encyclopedia to book club.

Sometimes we need to just be.  Just sit and laugh and enjoy the moment.  This too is wisdom, though wisdom of a different kind, I think.

Advent is a season of preparation.  The wise (like the wise men) follow the star.  Yet, when they arrive, they find a very modest scene.  They set down their gifts and humble themselves before the mystery.  As far as we know, they do not feel the need to speak or expand on all the lessons that their wisdom has taught them.  It is apparently enough simply to be there.  And to offer their respective gifts.

Today I am thinking of my friend.  I am thinking of her journey and of mine.  I know that we carry our blessings and that they are sometimes burdens.  I know that we both want to carry wisdom rightly and lightly.  And I hope for both of us to find those moments where we are blessed to simply be there.

May we all be blessed as we once again prepare ourselves for the mystery of the ages.

Distance

I was half the naked distance between hell and heaven's ceiling and he almost pulled me under... Indigo Girls, "Prince of Darkness"
It seems rather remarkable that in the span of my lifetime, time and distance have come to mean everything and nothing.
What I mean by this is that there was a time in which both of these things seemed to be impossible. Impossible to comprehend and impossible to conquer. And now, it would seem that both are immensely overrated.
When I think about time today, I think about illusion. Earthbound time is something that does seem to demand our attention and devotion. Though I am not sure that it deserves it. Ultimately, it seems that the only power that anything really has is the power that we give to it. In this regard, our slavery to the clock is like staying in a prison that has no walls. A lot of my life feels like that these days. Still working on taking those first few steps out of the cage. Oh, and it appears to be a bird cage. Who knew?
Distance... another illusion. Or maybe just a misunderstood mystery. How far is it to the Sun? How far is it anywhere, really? I've been trying to get to California for six months. I think it might be closer to the Sun. O.K., forget the metaphysics. Just try to wrap your head around the science (or pseudo-science). We have all heard that analogy of the football field and the tennis ball or golf ball or whatever. No? They say that, proportionately, an atom is, for all meaningful purposes, really just empty space. According to the analogy, the neutron can be likened to a tennis ball in the middle of a football field and the electron/s that orbit/s around it are equivalent to a running track encircling that football field. In other words, it's just this energy field that appears to be solid but really it is just empty space--though, importantly, it is energized empty space.
It is possible to hear these kinds of things that keep them safely categorized in something called, "Physics" or "Quantum Mechanics," and never consider what this might mean in terms of spirit and spirituality. But why would we want to do that? Why would we not wonder how all this relates to us and our day to day lives? BTW, I do not have the answer to that question, but I do believe that it is a worthwhile question.
And I believe that by asking it, we might find ourselves surprised. It may well be that in the pursuit of an answer to time and distance, we might innocently find some other answers to some other questions that have troubled us all our lives. One of my favorite examples here is the question, "where did it go?" Where did that moment go? Where did that special someone go? Where did that opportunity go? Is it really gone, or is it just hiding out of our present vision?
My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark,
and I do not feel the romance I, I do not catch the spark...
Indigo Girls, "Prince of Darkness."

Stretching

Everywhere I look, it seems that things are stretching and trying to grow. Or, they are being held back because of some resisting force. It is, as if our very beings are struggling to become something more, but there is also aspects within us that are anxious and, therefore sometimes working against us. The same is true for the collective, though it is harder to see and slower in coming. Recently, I heard a metaphor likening our experience to that of a rubber band--at one point being pulled and thinned and then returning to a more settled stasis. While the analogy is overly simple, it does provide a way to explain what many people are feeling. As that rubber band (our experience of growth or change) stretches, it can feel either freeing or dislocating, depending on the way we perceive what is happening. And then when the it returns (when our perception and/or experience of all this stabilizes), the anxiety fades. But what has happened in the process is that the rubber band has actually returned to a "new normal." That is, even though the greater stress is gone, the impact remains. The stretching has had a lasting impact, even if it is not immediately detectable. Additionally, the change--even though it may be extremely slight has, in turn, created a possibility (or, more likely, a range of possibilities) that was not there before. I am not sure how this will strike the reader. Simply talking about this might add to the stress. However, my hope is that it will provide a means of explaining what some people are experiencing. I also hope that by speaking about it, we can get a better handle on what it means--or might mean--and how we can proactively relate to this. For what I am talking about about might not be simply happening "to" us. It might be something that we are more actively involved with than we realize. In terms of traditional theology, what I am talking about here is free will. We tend to think about free will in terms of individual choices and that is certainly not wrong. However, what we do not necessarily think much about is how all those individual choices add up and where they ultimately lead us. Think about it in terms of prayer. Prayer is not merely request. It is intent. It is an effort to pull or push the rubber band in a certain direction. Of course, this is somewhat alarming to consider because we pray to God an trust that God knows what best to do with our prayers. But what happens when God gets many prayers--many efforts to stretch--in a a certain direction? What happens then? (I am still working on this... so don't be put off by what appears to be a sudden conclusion)

I Knew That...

I wanted to take a moment and respond to the service that we had yesterday. I realize that I have not blogged about anything for about a month. I am sorry for that. The reason is that I have been spending a lot of my time and creative energy working on something else. I offer this not in the way of an excuse, but an explanation, and maybe a lesson. We all have much to offer but it is not infinite. We need to take time to re-center and recharge (even Jesus did this by the way). We also need to accept that it takes time and energy to give ourselves in worthwhile ways.

Having said that, I do want to take time out of my present project and celebrate something.

Yesterday, I mentioned a couple of films in my sermon. I am always a little reluctant about this. For even though many people resonate, others find it confusing and have told me as much. Because of this, I try to be fair in my illustrations. However, yesterday was something of an exception. I made two fairly lengthy references to parables in cinema. The first was a recent film called, "In Time." The second was a somewhat older movie called, "Serenity." Both are science fiction stories.

Following the service, a number of people shared with me that they had seen "Serenity," and/or the short television production that the film was based on. It was clear to me that these people really connected with that story-line and, consequently, with the sermon. It is always nice to get an affirmation like that; however, in this case, it was especially cool. It was cool not only because these people appreciated something that I connected with--but because, I think, my sermon helped to affirm something in them that they may not have yet understood.

You see, I think that the narrative (the characters, plot, setting, etc) of "Serenity" had already blessed them in some way. But because of the nature of our world (television and movies are just entertainment), they may not have been able to embrace it as fully as they might. By hearing a representative of the Gospel speak favorable about the film, allowed them to accept what they had sensed all along. Namely, that there is a lot to that story.

What I am talking about hear is generally called intuition. Intuition is something that we all have, but many of us have lost our capacity to access it--or trust it, really.

I do not need to go on about this, because if you are reading this, then you already have an idea of what I am saying here. Moreover, the nature of intuition is that it is actually undermined by too much analysis. So I will leave it at that.

In any case, if this blog rings true, then good luck on your journey. I believe that you have tapped into something that is a great gift for you, and it will continue to be exceedingly important in the time ahead.

Digital Protesting

Have you noticed that you cannot access some sites today? It is not your browser or ISP. The shutdown is a statement on behalf of some of these companies. They are resisting the SOPA (Stop Online Piracy Act) and the PIPA (Protest IP ACT). Now why in the world would successful and even very large Internet-based companies be against something called the "Stop Online Privacy Act?"

Could it be the the name of the bill does not really reveal what the legislation is actually about? Some time ago, I preached a sermon in which I said that when you begin to hear that they want to "regulate" the Internet, it might be a good time to start praying.

The fundamental issue behind these bills represents a concerted effort to control the world in which we live. Of course, there is pirating taking place on the Internet. And, of course, there are some people who are going to benefit from a lack of regulation. However, the real issue is not piracy. It is control. And who exactly gets to regulate all this? Is it a specific nation-state or will there be some kind of world-internet-police agency that will be in charge of keeping and eye on things? "

The Internet has historically been a fairly open-forum of information and communication. It is trans-national, trans-cultural, and trans-economic. Regulatory interests are going to change this. The only question is how will it change?

Are we awake yet? Is this once again the same old choice? Can it be that it all really comes down to love or fear?

The short and long of it

The title should might read, "the big and small of it." Because what I am actually referring to here are decisions. Decisions are more often defined by size rather than distance but, at the same time, they also have ramifications that move forward in time and space. We might even say that the decisions we make have a history or, perhaps better, that they create a journey that can be short or long lived.

I have always been skeptical of choice. I am speaking here not so much about the individual choices that we make but rather the grandiose claims about choice itself. Some say that choice is the end all of human experience--the most important characteristic of being human. I have historically disagreed rather strongly.

Part of this is simply my education. My formal training both philosophical and theological has been decidedly anti-modern. Modern philosophy is generally traced back to Renee Descartes who gave us the famous (or infamous from where I come from) phrase, "I think therefore I am."

It is said that Descartes, perhaps unknowingly, literally moved the center locus of reality from the external to the internal. Specifically, as the father of what is commonly called "Critical Philosophy," Descartes saw an enormous problem with knowledge. In his quest for what he called "clear and distinct" knowledge, Descartes found that he could really know nothing for sure--except that he was thinking about it. The discovery caught on and, over time, we inherited a world that is completely uncertain. We now come to know and understand this world not be accepting it as it appears to us but by abstracting it--by pulling it in to our minds.

The key point here is that we now naturally do this. If we live in the West, Critical philosophy or approaching the world through abstraction is what we learn. It is the prevailing educational model and essentially the air that we breathe. So, in terms of the current discussion, there is no choice as to whether or not we think this way.

Now imagine being told that this basic tenet is actually wrong--that Descartes apparent revelation was, in fact, a misstep. That the modern world's embrace of the critical method did reveal knowledge but instead distanced us from it--perhaps so far that we can no longer even see it--even though it is right there in front of us. Imagine that and you have a basic picture of my formal education. (Makes me think of Paul Simon, "It's a wonder I can think at all.")

Despite whatever suffering I may have endured in all of this, I cannot deny that I have been blessed as well. For I have been able to see things that others do not. For example, I can see how the modern world's unrelenting emphasis upon choice has gone a long way to casting the world as a vast marketplace in which truth is largely relative. We simply traverse the universe picking and choosing our way... what to do, what to believe--what to buy--as though we might be merely working our way through a supermarket.

So anyway--choice. In a world that is so enamored with the wonder and power of the human mind, I have always had this nagging resistance to it. Right--because Descartes is the villain? So choice, is just a trap. It is the illusion that we gods of some kind and that our thought processes are more important, or even more real than the external world...

That's the formal reason for my skepticism about choice, but there is another, probably more relevant reason. I am also not especially bullish on commitment. I am much better at thinking about options than I am about living with choices. This is a confession BTW. The entire entry here might be. For despite my suspicion of thought--the fact is, it might be one of the few things that I actually do well. So if you're still following, the confession is hypocrisy or maybe just futility.

So what you have here is the anti-thinker thinking... And today I am thinking about the lasting impact of the choices that we make.

And what I am thinking about specifically is which are the more important. Is it those decisions that we imagine to be the big ones? You know, the handful that we can identify in a lifetime that appear to make those substantial differences in our journeys? Or, is it the smaller ones that we make every day? I suppose these would be likened to the tiniest edges of the fractal?

I am curious about this because I am curious about change. I mentioned in my last blog that I have been reading Carlos Castenada and listening to the philosophical musings of Don Juan. He seems to believe that change is not only possible but necessary--at least for those of us who care enough to live something other than a boring life. A Christian equivalent here might be Jesus' statement to Nicodemus that in order to see the Kingdom, "ye must be born again." Though I am not sure it is exactly the same thing.

There are certainly worse things than a boring life. However, Jesus seems to invite us to something remarkable. So the point, or rather the urgency, here is that we might well miss the kingdom if we do not change or become reborn in some way.

Of course, the modern world as well as many practicing Christians are quite sure that they see just fine. But I am curious today how choice fits into all of this? Does there come a point at which it is simply too late? That we are so far down the wrong road that we simply no longer have the capacity to reconsider some of the choices that we have made along the way?

Don Juan suggests that the issue (or the problem) is not simply the choices themselves. It is rather the attitude or posture with which we make them. He notes that most people live their life as though they are going to live forever. And because of this, there is a certain sloppiness (my word) about the way that we act. He suggests to Carlos Castenada that we should act as though our next action might well be our last. His suggestion is that we imagine ourselves the hunter but we are more rightly the prey.

"..if you are going to die there is no time for timidity, simply because timidity makes you cling to something that exists only in your thoughts. It soothes you while everything is at a lull, but then the awesome, mysterious world will open its mouth for you, as it will open for every one of us, and then you will realize that your sure ways were not sure at all..."

"It is not natural to live with the constant idea of our death, don Juan." [Castendad protests]

"Our death is waiting and this very act we're performing now may well be our last battle on earth," he replied in a solemn voice. "I call it a battle because it is a struggle. Most people move from act to act without any struggle or thought..." (p.85)

As I mentioned in my prior blog. I am not sure what to make of don Juan's philosophy but I appreciate his candor and his intentionality. As a man who has made it a point of avoiding both choices and the responsibility that comes with them, I find myself feeling a bit like Carlos Castenada--exposed and vulnerable.