Protozoa Could Be Controlling Your Brain: Scientific American

So much for free will...

 

http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=fatal-attraction&WT.mc_id=SA_WR_20110520

The Hidden Message in Pixar’s Films

A very interesting article.

 

QUOTE: The message hidden inside Pixar's magnificent films is this: humanity does not have a monopoly on personhood. In whatever form non- or super-human intelligence takes, it will need brave souls on both sides to defend what is right. If we can live up to this burden, humanity and the world we live in will be better for it.

 

http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/sciencenotfiction/2011/05/14/the-hidden-message-in-pixars-films/

Judge my running

Judgement as a form of asceticism. To judge between good/bad, profitable/unprofitable ("all things are lawful") is a way ot leading a holy life. Always discern, always choose the better and the best. Be strategic, which is the same as being efficient - pick a goal, identify the path, and do things which will take you closer to that goal. That is strategic living. Let's say you want to run a marathon. If you spend all your time on the couch or pumping weights you will never get there. Both results are equally worthless in light of your goal. Your goal determines the value (good/bad) of all you do.

One more thing - know your enemies so you can forgive them. Any goal will have its allies and its enemies (or a tleast detractors). This includes people you know as well as forces beyond your control, or even beyond your ken. The "enemies" of running are: distance, time, conditioning, mental strength. There is not a lot of strength required in running long distance, but a lot of mental strength. So get to know your enemies and forgive them. Forgive distance and make it your friend. Look at the space between star and finish lines as opportunities to explore, as blank pieces of paper to doodle your life energy on, the opportunity to be creative, to express being, aliveness, joy. It always amazes me when I see runners who are scowling and tense as they run. It looks painful!

Forgive, also, time. You will not always get your PR. You will not always have the time to run all you wanted. Embrace finitude. Use the opportunity to bring more value to each second. Use time to encourage you (or spook you into running faster). Play with time against distance, and distance against time. Can you reach that next mailbox (distance) before you hit 45 minutesw (time)? Can you run up this hill (distance) in less than 1 minute (time)?

Forgive conditioning. This means your body. The body is often an ass and refuses anything to do with consuming energy. But sometimes it is also Balaam's ass and you should listen when it speaks. You have a certain body, and while you are able to remove some excess fat and increase some strength and aerobic conditioning there is a limit. You can only rise to the highest level you are capable of given your genetic-social history. When I was running my first half-marathon I realized that I could only run with my body. Now this sounds trivial and downright stupid, but to me it was a revelation. I was running with my hopes and dreams and running from my fears and humiliations (what if I pull a muscle? What if I bonk? What if I have to go pee?). But suddenly I realized that none of those things were running for me, if anything they were distracting me from the one thing that was runnign - my body. It was an incarnational moment. I ran with my body [note: by "body" I also mean mind, but mind-focused-on-activity, not mind-unfocused-daydreaming]! It was freeing, and somewhat humbling. This poor old thing! It was a moment of fragility, of recognizing mortality. And then a moment of triumph as I crossed the finish line, limping a little from a slight pull of my calf muscle, tired but elated. I did it! "We" (body and I) did it!

"We": body, time, distance. We did it. It felt like a jubilee. All debts between these parties were forgiven.

So what is your goal? What should be your goal? What are you doing now to get you closer to your goal? What should you be doing now? What will you do soon?

Faith in America: Get ready for change

Read this today on USA Today. The author claims 3 main patterns: less creedal, less hierarchical, and more countercultural, or at least less Western-centric with emphasis on professional clergy, certifications and appropriate programs. Instead, the majority in the goobal South are trending towards lay-led charismatic expressions.

Compline prayer

Holy Mary Mother of God and all you angels and saints
Please help me to pray to Our Lord.

I invite you into this moment, Jesus.
I surrender to you as my Lord, God and Savior.

Lord Jesus, let me be before you just as I am.
Let me know you just as you are.
Let us meet here and now.
Maranatha! Cover me with Your precious blood, and fill me with your Holy
Spirit.

Bring into my mind my sins of today.
Give me a spirit of contrition to repent even as those sins are consumed
by your forgiveness.
In your Name I forgive all others for the offenses that I took.
Especially...

In the Name of Jesus I renounce Satan, the evil spirits and all their
works.
Especially...

Heal me, change me, strengthen me in body, soul, and spirit.
Especially...

I Love You, Lord Jesus.
I Praise You, Jesus.
I Thank You, Jesus.
By your grace I shall follow you every day of my life.

"You awake? Guess you could call it that, my eyes are open." (Thelma and Lousie)

In 80s my step-dad, mom and myself (my sister bailed out and went to Rio instead) went on a road trip from Sao Paulo to Argentina. This is a 1000 mile journey (though down there it is 1647 kilometers, it feels longer). My stepfather was Argentinian and he wanted to show us his hometown of Mendoza at the foot of the Andes (which, BTW is another 1000 miles form Buenos Aires).

On one particularly boring stretch of road, in the middle of the night, as we were trying to reach the next town on time, the car tire exploded. And I mean exploded, not just a whispering flat. no. BAM! Luckily my dad was able to steer us into safety, change the tire and find a truck stop in the middle of nowhere (somehow there are theses oases in the middle of nowhere quite often in Brazil). As they were repairing the tire it was found that a horse's tooth was what caused the fantastic explosion. A horse's tooth? Have you ever seen a horse's tooth. They are HUGE.

At any rate, the mechanic gave me the tooth. My mom was standing by the side, pointing a horrified finger at the thing screaming "unclean, unclean". But the man-folk prevailed, and I got to keep my treasure. In fact I had it for many many years. Of all the things I did and saw and bought during that month long trip, this was by far the most memorable.

I have come to believe that in every person, every family there this near-mythical thing called The Trip. Depending on the family you grew up with you may have traveled a lot. In that case there were many wonderful trips, but there is always one trip which stands out for you. Something changed then. If you have siblings then their trip may be a different one. But frequently there is one family trip which changes everything for everyone.

Hollywood, perspicacious peddlers of dreams and desires that they are, has often capitalized on that theme. You think of travel movies and it reads like a Who's Who of Hollywood: "It Happened One Night" and "The Wizard of Oz" (in the 30s); "Easy Rider", "Two-Lane Blacktop" and "Smokey and the Bandit" (Seventies); "National Lampoon's Vacation", "Planes, Trains and Automobiles", "The Sure Thing", "Cannonball Run" (all in the 80s); "Thelma and Louise" (90s); "Little Miss Sunshine" (00s). Phew! I watch too many movies. And I skipped so many!

But this is a much older theme. The earliest recorded story that we have is the Epic of Gilgamesh from Babylonia circa 2500BC. It is an epic tale of gods and goddesses and man and death and life. It involves, unsurprisingly the biggest, baddest road trip anyone can think of. Forget Vegas, baby, we are going down to the underworld!

Fast forward a thousand years or so (to 1100BC) and you get Homer writing the first blockbuster, the Odyssey, a great road trip basically about a boy and a girl. Really! Isn't it always about love?

Over and over we have traveled, and continue to travel.

Think of Abram who had to go almost 1,000 miles just to buy an "H". Think of the Jewish Patriarchs, of Jacob and Joseph (and wives and kids). Think of Moses and the exodus, and their search for the perfect felafel - eventually God gives them the heavenly kind!

Think of Jesus' own perambulations. Think of Saul having to drive to Damascus to get a name change, and then he went on another road trip to "Arabia" (no one knows exactly where, some suggest Sinai). And then he comes back only to go off again on a bunch of road trips. The latest of which is your own church - think about it - you go to church because God went on a road trip with a murderous zealot Pharisee named Saul about 2,000 years ago.

Name change! There is something deep there. Think of the disciples and how they got nicknames from traveling around in the Jesus van. Personally I believe it was Peter who nicknamed the brothers James and John the "sons of thunder", and I believe it had more to do with their insistence in having bean burritos when they hit the road...but I digress.

Do you not think that the disciples got together and told each other road trip stories? Peter would say, "Remember that time when we drove up to the mountain and it was foggy and there were those lights?" and John would chime in, "Remember that time we took the ferry across the Sea of Galilee and then Peter forgot where we were and decided to step out and go chat with Jesus?" And so on...

So what is your "road trip"? What is your National Lampoon's Vacation? What is your road to Damascus? Hopefully you do not have a "Thelma and Louise" story, but hey, all's good!

Think on these things! Think from where God has called you, and to where God is calling you. Make each day a step towards your Jerusalem, your Promised Land, your Exodus story, your Damascus.

And if you need some renewing of your mind, then try going on a trip - if possible a literal one. And if in your peregrinations you run across a horse's tooth, avoid running over it - they get mad. And you don't want to get a horse's tooth mad...

Blogging From a Babylonian Fiery Furnace

It was a normal afternoon. I had finished my homework and was playing around the house. when I say house I mean a ninth floor 3.5 bedroom apartment in a poetically named Peace Street in the just off-cool suburbs of my home town. This apartment complex had trash chutes in each apartment, usually next to the kitchen (natch). You would throw your bagged (mostly) trash in there, it would crash down to the ground floor into very large bins which would then be collected by the garbage disposal people. Occasionally the trash would get stuck in a floor or between floors, and would need someone, usually the caretaker, to come around and prod it down with long brooms. At any rate, this afternoon as I was playing around the house I went by the chute and caught a whiff of some pungent smells. I opened the chute and could see a bunch of trash stuck just past our opening. Being that my parents had taught me the civic virtues, I thought I would do my part to help the trash down. That is the good part. the bad part is my pyromania. Combine the two...and well. My thought process was simple: Trash is stuck here. I have a box of matches in my pocket (doesn't everyone?). If I burn the trash to ashes it will go down faster.

With such brilliance that would have astounded a young Plato, I struck a match and threw it into the pile of trash....WHOOSH!

I might not have been very bright (or too bright my grandmother would say) but I was also not stupid. I immediately slammed the chute closed, picked up my toys and went to my room to play, as far away from the mess as possible. I did wonder what happened, though. It did not take me long to find out. Apparently the huge fireball inched its combustible way slowly down, floor by floor, spewing smoke and toxic fumes in every apartment. Eventually it landed on the ground floor where it proceeded to double-WHOOSH if that's possible, as it touched even more combustible material. The fire engines arrived, the police arrived. Not much after that they arrived at my door. I am still not sure how they could trace it to, ahem, me, perhaps it had something to do with previous accidents (incidents?). The worse part of my punishment was having to surrendered my prized box of matches and my 18 oz. bottle of starter fluid.

I hope you are all on fire this week as you work through our attempts at taming our minds. I did not emphasize this last time, because frankly I thought it obvious, but here is how I see it. We are all running around with our hair on fire. At least that's how our minds see the world and life in general. Hair on fire is not a good thing. It usually makes you a little more hurried than usual, and less prone to want to sit down for a while, have a cup of tea, visit with a good friend and discuss the formula for converting temperatures from Fahrenheit to Celsius.

Now, usually this is a bad thing. So why on earth would God say this: "When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them." (Acts 2:1-6)

All of us have fire in our hair, but this is (or should be) Holy Fire. The trick is to stop long enough to recognize it as such. So, pay attention this week to how crazy your mind is, how it makes you think you are on fire, and rushes you about.

You ARE on fire, but this is the kind of fire that does not consume bushes or hair! You can stay in it and not get burned. But you cannot stay in it without being changed...

Look over your Christ-likeness list and pay attention to all those flames! Let it rekindle you. Let the fire transform your minds. You can blow on the flames by working on the quality of your thinking.

Quality of your thinking

The first stage of any spiritual exercise is to spend time looking for any traces of Christ inside. Being generous with myself as I can be with others I will be able to find quite a few. I am generous, loyal, encouraging. Of course, my mind always add a "but" - as in, generous yes, but how about that time when I wasn't? How about loyal? Sure, loyal when it suits you....and so on.

"As he thinketh in his heart, so is he." (Prov 23:7) Why is that? The version in the NIV reads: "For he is the kind of person who is always thinking about the cost."

In 1902 James Allen published an influential essay called "As a Man Thinketh":

Mind is the Master power that moulds and makes,
And Man is Mind, and evermore he takes
The tool of Thought, and, shaping what he wills,
Brings forth a thousand joys, a thousand ills: —
He thinks in secret, and it comes to pass:
Environment is but his looking-glass.

In 2006 the best-selling self-help book The Secret written by Rhonda Byrne states:

Whatever is going on in your mind is what you are attracting. We are like magnets - like attract like. You become and attract what you think.

My grandfather always used to say that the world was a mirror, reflecting back to me who I really was. I have no proof, but I do not doubt that my grandfather, a voracious reader of obscure writings, probably read Allen.

But, there is something that has always bothered me, there is something dangerous about this way of thinking. The focus is how I think, how I feel, how I, how I...it is all about me! So there is a quality of thinking which is not always good. If I spend all my time staring at the mirror I might just forget to look beyond it, at my neighbor.

Everyone knows the myth of Narcissus: Narcissus was a hunter from who was renowned for his beauty. He was exceptionally proud of his own beauty to the point that he disdained those who loved him. The goddess Nemesis (who was the spirit of divine retribution against those who succumb to hubris and arrogance before the gods) saw his arrogance and attracted Narcissus to a pool where he saw his own reflection in the waters and fell in love with it, not realizing it was merely an image. Unable to leave the beauty of his reflection, Narcissus died slowly, without ever being able to look away.

At this point I think of one of my favorite passages from Paul: Philippians 4:1-9. Without a doubt if Narcissus had read Paul he would have avoided a slow, debilitating death entranced by his own beauty...There are other small "exercises" which can be done on a daily basis, on an hourly basis, anywhere, anytime, simple exercises to orient my thinking to God and God's will:

* I will focus my thinking upon heavenly, not earthly, things (Col.3:2; Phil.3:19-20; 4:8).
* I will think humble thoughts, not proud ones (Rm.12:2-3).
* I will set my thoughts upon things that unite me with my fellow believers, rather than separating me from them (Rom.12:16; 15:5; 2Cor.13:11; 1Pet.3:8).
* I will think like the Son, and not like the self-interested (Phil.2:2-4).
* I will think like the Spirit, not like the flesh (Rm.8:6).
* I will think maturely not childishly (1Cor.13:11; Phil.3:15).

It all your fault!

The tsunami disaster that struck Japan has brought devastation at an
unbelievable scale. Looking at the pictures and videos the sheer
monstrosity of the thing looks like something from a Godzilla movie. I
am pretty certain that I will never watch Godzilla v. Mothra in quite
the same way ever again. Some may wonder why even watch it in the first
place...but that's another conversation.

Almost immediately following the first news reports disaster relief
organizations started appealing for donations. I do not want to be
callous about this so let me say that we should help, that our hearts
should be softened by devastation. But...

...a recent study ("Donating to disaster victims: Responses to natural
and humanly caused events" by Hanna Zagefka, et al) looked into why
people give more money to natural disasters like the a tsunami than
human ones like the crisis of Darfur. The bottom line: we judge!

If you are a victim of a natural disaster, then, the study shows, others
will have compassion and help you, since it was not your fault. But in a
civil war, it is less likely that people will sympathize, since wars are
(obviously) man-made "disasters."

For me this applies even in the micro level. I remember conversations
around the long dark cherry dinner table at my house when I was younger.
My father, it seems, was a firm believer in the Ben Franklin motto of
"God helps those who help themselves", going so far as to label
"communist" (a strong word in those days) anyone who suggested the need
for any social action. My grandmother, whose Scottish blood simply would
not allow her to agree with anyone, would hold on firmly to the Hilel
camp of "If I am not for myself, then who will be for me? And if I am
only for myself, then what am I? And if not now, when?"

So over rice and beans, delicious fried pastries called "pasteis",
toasted manioc flour with bananas, and copious amounts of passion fruit
juice, the debate between the Franklinites and the Hilelists would go on
and on...Oh how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell
together in unity! (Ps. 133).

But, it seems to me now, that both sides miss the crucial point, which I
hope we are all trying to work on: judgment. Not only judgment of
others, but judgment of ourselves. As you look in the mirror, and peel
back the layers of self judgment (wrinkles, resentment, vanity) and
search for Christ, until you see the face of Christ in the mirror. And
then knowing that you, with all your failures, can do the same for your
neighbor. Ah! Now we are getting somewhere!

Days to forget, impossible

So what would a panic attack look like? I think I experienced one a couple of days ago. For an introvert to be forced to handle more than 2 hours of extroverted activities without a chance to recharge is very hard. To have to do it overnight for a period of 24+ hours total is lunacy!

My blood pressure was probably through the roof, and my heart rate was so accelerated I could feel my heart trying to jump out of my chest. And this I when I was sitting alone in my room. It took me about 4 hours to slow down enough to be able to actually sleep. I could not read or watch TV. I had enough common sense to stop at 3 beers, I am pretty sure that drinking would only have made it worse.

So add my terror with the constant, or near constant, questioning by others about whether I was OK. If you do not feel ok and do not feel like talking about it, the only way to get around it is to fake it. It is a lot of pressure to seem like I was ok, but it did stop the nagging.

On top of it all, there is my disrespect for 90% of the people there, my ever increasing lack of respect for the institution I work for. It is not that I think I am superior to the people there, it is a fact that I am better than they are. Not in an existential sense, of course. But in an educational and intellectual level. Is this hubris? Most likely. But it is also true. I simply had absolutely no desire to interact with any of the events and activities and people.

If only there was some dancing! With dancing I can just move and interact, in a sense, with others. Dancing (and music) are universal languages, and a great equalizer. To what use is my education if I cannot move to the beat? The best "conversations" I have ever had were done hip-to-hip on a dance floor.

What do I take from this? The importance of routine for me seems to border on the autistic. The same things on a daily basis: my time for reading and study and meditation, my evening runs. It is obviously important to have the capacity to control and organize my surroundings to suit my preferences - I do not think i am special in that sense, but rather this is a natural human need to terraform their environment.

Whenever I move into a new office or new space, I immediately go about "making it mine" - adding pictures to the walls, changing the lighting, rearranging the furniture. At home I change all the furniture around at least two or three times a year, much to my family's chagrin.

Oh I could go on.

The two days were horrible. I had to go through it alone. That was possibly the worse part, but also (possibly) the best thing. I know some things about myself much better now. I might just be able to be a little more real in my relationships, my interactions with others.

After about an hour punching a heavy bag this afternoon I feel like I have cleared all the poisons from my body. I am tired now, ready to go to bed. I hope to sleep well.

The royal road of all-giving creative love

Found this quote on the Eighth Day Books blog: “Whatever may happen in the future, I know that I have learned three things which will remain forever convictions of my heart as well as my mind. Life, even the hardest life, is the most beautiful, wonderful, and miraculous treasure in the world. Fulfillment of duty is another marvelous thing making life happy. This is my second conviction. And my third is that cruelty, hatred, violence, and injustice never can and never will be able to create a mental, moral, or material millennium. The only way toward it is the royal road of all-giving creative love, not only preached but consistently practiced.” (Pitirim A. Sorokin, from The Ways and Power of Love)

 

My Review of PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE WATCH

Originally submitted at UncommonGoods

Sometimes we need to be reminded to live in the present, and not be worried by what is in the past and what lies ahead in the future. Through its clever design, the Past, Present and Future watch by Daniel Will-Harris only displays the present time thus forcing you to only focus on what is happen...

PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE WATCH

Great watch

By spaceloom from Richmond, VA on 2/8/2011

 

5out of 5

Pros: Stylish, Unique, Comfortable, Quality Construction, Accurate

Cons: Strap is complicated

Best Uses: Work, Daily Use

Describe Yourself: Practical, Stylish, Athletic

This watch has received more comments than any other watch I have ever owned - and all of them good! People notice the red line in the middle and look closer. Once they understand the watch's "message" they usually add "Oh cool!"

(legalese)

Thoughts from the ditch

Last night I was one of the cars you see on the local news which spun out of the road. Being stuck for 2 hours in a ditch by a highway, facing oncoming traffic, in a snow storm (even a puny, Richmond one) gives you time to reflect a little.

First the positives - I made much headway into Gulliver's Travels. I have it on my Kindle and so I had some good reading material. It was nice to be able to just sit and read - what else was I to do?

It says something that the only way I get to sit still for a couple of hours to read in peace and quiet is when I am stuck in a ditch.

Now for the more bizarre parts. The police was very prompt, and even prompter issuing me a ticket (court summons really) for "reckless driving"...what?

After about an hour (and countless cars, including many of my co-workers) a guy stopped with his pick-up truck, and said that for $30 dollars he would tow me out. That's the spirit! Spirit of something, but perhaps not Christmas.

After that another half an hour and a lady stops to make sure I am ok. Very nice. After her another pickup truck - also wanting money. Then a towing service. I had called AAA and was waiting for tow, so for a moment there I had a glimmer of hope, but no. The gentleman came out and proceeded to tell me how late AAA was running and how cold it would get in my car. So if I needed any help he would be glad to help me...for a fee.

Finally finally the AAA tow truck shows up (2.5 hours later). he then proceeds to tell me how he woke up feeling really sick and was throwing up all night but that his boss made him come to work anyways. Great! A disgruntled tow truck man. I confess that it did make me a little nervous.

After half an hour of tugging and pulling I was finally set free. Of course with the small glitch that I was now facing incoming traffic, and had to somehow do a 180 in slippery conditions in the middle of a freeway.

But all's well that ends well. Apart from about $1000 of damage to the door of my car, there really was nothing but a lot of sitting and reading, and this small slice of humanity.

What is missing?

A colleague sent me today a link to the story of the sale of the original manuscript of Audubon’s Birds of America.

The book apparently sold for more than $10 million to an anonymous buyer.

What got me going is the sheer size of the thing! Look at it! Huge!

This brought back memories of oversized books. The first books which I remember being oversized were my Dad's collection of Alex Raymond's Flash Gordon comics. They were large books, and it was an incredible pleasure to (almost literally) fall into them.

As an avid Kindle fan, and a general cheerleader for e-books, I got to say that I do not miss print books at all...until I am faced with an object of such obvious beauty on its own, such as Audubon’s book. The experience of flipping pages of a well-bound book is, in my mind, a form of performance art, of perhaps one of those sculptures which require you to interact with them.

If you have ever held a book which is printed in the finest grade paper and bound with the finest leather you will understand what I mean.

But here's a point: this kinesthetic, sensual experience of flipping pages, smelling the leather, and what-not, has absolutely nothing to do with the content of the work! In fact, while it may bring its own pleasures (and it does) those pleasures are completely external to the experience of the novel - though I can imagine some works where the turning of the page be made into a necessary part of the plot, for example the Choose Your Own Adventure books which I loved as a child. But even then, it is not the issue of the turning of the pages, per se, that matters, but the reader's choice of actions - which can be easily emulated (and even improved) in an electronic format.

So I am left with this vague nostalgic feeling of "something lost" by the transition to e-books, but when I look actively for what exact element is lost, I find nothing.

All that is lost is a physical habit, which can be replaced by another - the stories will go on forever.

The dough takes care of itself

"Ye gods! But you're not standing around holding it by the hand all this time. No. (...) [T]he dough takes care of itself. (...) While you cannot speed up the process, you can slow it down at any point by setting the dough in a cooler place (...) then continue where you left off, when you are ready to do so. In other words, you are the boss of that dough." (Julia Child)

Here we are, well into Advent, and in my house this means the most disruptive smells of my wife's baking: cookies, breads, cakes, and various other delectables. It is impossible not to be carried away with their smells, and the mind goes off in many a gustatory reverie.

I remember trying to read a theology book ("For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy" by Alexander Schmemann) which began by saying "You are what you eat." And then went on to talk about the Eucharist. I could not go much further as the impact of that thought arrested me. We all know the saying about being what we eat, but I had never thought about its implications for the Communion bread. If I am eating God (in a sense) then...

But let us go a little further. You not only are what you eat, but you function on what you eat as well. We all have heard about the positive (or detrimental) effects of diet on mental as well as physical performance. Could there be, I wonder, I connection between spiritual performance and diet?

Taking this to another level, very few of us eat what is unappetizing. Yes, some of us had to learn to like this or that food - mostly because of parental enforcement or medical enforcement (I am yet to meet someone who actively enjoys Metamucil for example). Eating is one of the earliest forms of socialization. I remember my shock and horror the first time I tried Bovril on toast...if you do not know what Bovril on toast is like I would recommend you contact Br. Bede and Sr. Therese who I am certain will be able to regale you with culinary tales to fire your imagination (you can also go to the Bovril Shrine here: http://www.medianet.ca/bovril/bovril.htm).

On our last trip to visit my family in Brasil I introduced my wife to a culinary treat of ours called "farofa." She pithily described it as "eating sand"...it is toasted manioc flour - and that's pretty much it, though there are regional variations where things like bacon are added to it. Usually the kids bread a banana on the flour and eat it! Yum! She was not so impressed.
Of course, the most perfect food for our spiritual bodies has to be Eucharist. Whether you are a Tridentine Catholic, serious Oxford Movement Anglican, a no-candles-on-the-altar Calvinist or something in between, the sharing of a meal together as Christians in remembrance of Christ's sacrifice is the most nutritious aliment known to humankind.

So for these last couple of weeks as our heads swim in Christmas cookies, puddings, turkey or ham, candy canes and other such wonderful things, take some time to (re)watch Babette's Feast.

Also pause and consider: could all this pleasurable eating be a kind of thinking? Or, conversely, what kind of thinking is fueled by all this good eating? Nowadays we talk a lot about different types of intelligence - things like musical intelligence and kinesthetic intelligence and, of course, the old emotional intelligence. Is there such a thing as "foodie intelligence"? Can pleasure be a form of thinking? Further, should you seek/expect pleasure from sacraments?

The Romance languages, like French and Portuguese, have different words for pleasure ("plaisir" and "jouissance" in French, "prazer" and "gozo" in Portuguese) - and it makes me wonder - can we re-discover the levels and differences in pleasure (not all are good of course)? It would bring me much pleasure if someone were to write a book which would tease out these differences theologically, similar to what C. S. Lewis did in The Four Loves. Can we write The Four (or Five or Seven) Pleasures? What is contemplative pleasure anyway? I believe the answer to this last one is encompassed by the Julia Child quote above!

Pride, self-deprecation and humility

Those who are indifferent to praise or blame have great tranquility of heart. (Thomas a Kempis)

Truly, I say to you, unless you repent and become like a child, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like a child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3-4)

Self-deprecation in any for whatsoever is a cancer. You must fight it with all your strength. How do you know if you are doing it? This is where pride comes in. Self-deprecation is usually generously peppered with feelings of shame, guilt and anxiety when we are faced with calls to "curb out pride".

This behavior has nothing to do with humility! My definition of humility is someone who has no pride and thus feels no shame, guilt.

Humility has to do with realism. To be truly humble is to have a clear view of our reality. If you are a good pianist, for example, and have been gifted with musical talents, it would be a grave fault to deny those talents with a self-deprecatory remark (this would be hiding your talent in a hole in the ground). If the reality is that you are a talented musician, then give God the glory and say "I am a good musician, thanks be to God!" that is not arrogance, that is humility.

But, if you have acknowledged your sin (and don't we all do so daily, at least at Compline? If not more often!?); if you have committed yourself to pursuing holiness (and all Christians have done so), then do not fall into the trap of shame and guilt (and therefore pride) when your sin is revealed (either privately in your prayers, or publicly).

No one is called a Christian because they are holy (well maybe one or two of you). We are Christians because Christ has opened a way for us to be truly holy and perfect, and we have heeded his call, dropped our nets and followed him.

Here's the question in my meditations: since Christ did all the work, how can we be concerned with our worth? The prideful are slaves to their audience, but we are slaves of Christ. Who is your audience? The prideful are shamed when they do not live up to their audience's expectation, we want only to hear the Master say "You good and faithful servant." Who do you live up to? The prideful need others to see them in an idealized way, and go to many lengths to make sure their public image is spotless, we repeat constantly to ourselves: "Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you." (Matt 5.11-12) How polished is your public image?

Humility heals our broken selves, and releases tremendous amounts of energy. I mean physical energy. The humble is like it says in the psalms:

It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he causes me to stand on the heights.
He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
You make your saving help my shield, and your right hand sustains me;
your help has made me great.
You provide a broad path for my feet,
so that my ankles do not give way. (Psalm 18:32-36)

Praise the LORD, my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the LORD, my soul, and forget not all his benefits.
Who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases,
Who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion,
Who satisfies your desires with good things
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. (Ps. 103: 1-5)

It is palpable to anyone you meet. The way of humility is the way of liberation. The humble is the only person capable of helping their neighbor remove the speck from their eyes.

So if you feel guilty, if you are denying your gifts from a sense of false modesty, remember this is pride. Throw yourself at the mercy of the Love of God. Confess your pride, "repent and become like a child", and enter the kingdom of heaven!

Sit

This chair is all chairs
This is the Throne of Heaven
This, the throne of Hell
Sitting here, sitting at the heavenly choir
Sitting on the bus, on the toilet,
Sitting still as I drive, sitting
As I work away

My life is one, punctuated by
Getting up to sit somewhere else,
Moving to sit, hurrying to sit

All the leather chairs will fade away
All the hard wooden benches will
Break, all folding chairs, all
Church pews, fade and fail

When I an dead
I will sit on the earth
It too will fade away
Only my sitting will remain

Having a real enemy

Without a doubt this is one of the more controversial aspects of spiritual life. I would say, though, that for the contemplative solitary having an enemy is a, well, god-send. At a fundamental level enemies keep us real, keep us in reality - rather like a wall keeps you in reality when you drive straight into it.

When I think about "enemy" I tend to think of those (people, things) that make me fearful of suffering (digest this for a moment). If I feel particularly archetypal I may think of my enemies things like disease and death. But Benedict says that we should always have our death in the forefront of our thinking. So either this is a case of "keep your enemies closer" or Benedict wants the monk to get over their fear of death. My guess is that Benedict wants us to think of death not as an enemy, but rather a wise advisor. Wise because death is not swayed by the petty ego, and thus is able to provide us with a perspective - a final perspective as it were.

But how about people? I have met too many Christians who take Jesus' injunction to turn the other cheek, as a way to refuse to accept the existence of personal enemies. "I love everyone" is their motto. I am sorry to say but this is frequently an anemic form of faith, closer to a moldy dark abandoned basement than a virile and ensolared power which brings light to the world.

My own self-analysis (for what is worth) leads me to believe that this is a particularly pernicious form of egotism. No one loves everyone that way. Jesus did not love everyone that way. He is LOVE, and so was quite capable of calling people "vipers", and Peter "satan"...

Benedict suggests that the purpose of the cenobitic life is to prepare someone (heal the petty ego, strengthen the good ego) to become a solitary and go out to do battle with the devil by themselves. The devil is everyone's real and final enemy, but there are other things to hold as enemies: the prophets did battle with the injustices of society, and they frequently called the king to the carpet, by name! (In this vein, have you ever wondered why the Bible frequently calls nations by personal names, like Ham for Egypt or Israel for the Hebrew people?)

Idea: instead of blaming an amorphous conglomerate like BP for the spill, we should pray at the CEO. Yes, "pray at"! : )

I propose to you that if you are not able to concretely identify at least one real enemy (yes a person, even if he or she is a figurehead), then you are not doing your job of solitary very well.

My challenge to us is this: how aware are you of your enemies? How many enemies can you list? Are there any real people in your enemy list? Can you change the list so that you have actual names (and perhaps even faces - Google them)? How are you doing battle with your enemy? What concrete steps are you taking? Daily? Weekly?

As you walk up to your prie-dieu realize that you are marching up to the front lines. As you pick up your breviary or settle into your prayer word, you are firing a shot at all that keeps people starving, afraid, suffering. All those headlines you see on TV, the newspapers and the internet. Be angry at it. Then look at your enemies and pray at them. Pray with all your might. Do not falter, not for one moment - you are redeeming the world one name at a time, one prayer at a time.

If it helps, think of this exercise as the shadow version of "love your neighbor". If you cannot name three or four of your actual neighbors, then I would say you are simply loving (and living) a fantasy.

 

 

At some point attraction stops being a choice.

Those who are attractive are the people who spend time, regularly spend time figuring out who they are and where they are. Not so much plotting the future, but rather deepening their stance in the present. Making sure their presence is a present for others by, strangely, being deeply present to them.

When you stand before a beautiful work of art - the beauty makes you speechless, perhaps for a second perhaps for days.

When I stood before Monet's Water Lillies in the museum in London, or Rodin's the Lovers, eternally kissing and embracing in marble, oh I was lost. There was never enough to look at! I can close my eyes and see it, in detail, it is not as if there are new brushstrokes or chisel cuts, but it is so profoundly itself that it is mesmerizing. Or when I read:

Every Angel is terror. And yet,
ah, knowing you, I invoke you, almost deadly
birds of the soul.

What would I not give to write those lines!? Or when I was in a very stressful job, riding the commuter train into London on one of those dark and cold and damp days which only the English know how to create. And around me were other malcontented commuters all dressed in their proper greys and blacks and browns. And then I read:

I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.

I was not the same. As when I heard for the first time:

And if the elevator tries to bring you down
Go crazy - punch a higher floor

And I got it, I truly got it! I got it why rock and roll is so dangerous and why every dictator in the world wants to ban it! And probably why Plato banished poets from his Republic. And why the arts get little funding, or funding with strings attached from presidents and kings. And when I try to explain it all these half-asleep people nod benignly at me. They do not hear my roar, my bellowing roar deep in the pit of my heart, that furnace! Do you hear it?

And that moment comes, those moments come, you come to a standstill and can stop pretending, attempting, reaching. You can just be yourself because the beautiful presence before you is just being.

All of this is even more electrifying when it is another person, and not an object. Oh, objects can stare back, and when we notice the object looking at us it is a scary thing. Nietzsche said "When you stare at the abyss, the abyss stares back at you." He was right that old, crazy fraud.

But when someone stares back it is at that point that attraction stops being a choice.

And by stare I do not mean the hard-and-frowny stare, unblinking until tears roll down your face. It is not a game of chicken. Rather it is an encounter, subtle and gentle. More like the slow removal of a veil from the virgin's face - where she is expecting, trembling her first ever kiss.

Ever been in that place? Can you feel it now, as (perhaps) a warmth in your heart? How things which seem difficult and things which seem painful, don't quite disappear, but are transformed into scenery, into backdrop. Sometimes these moments when, soul-to-soul, you surrender (in spite of yourself) into an intimacy which a lifetime together may never ever reveal. And we seek it, oh how we seek it! We are all born to be known. To be revealed to each other in a nakedness of heart which is simultaneously intoxicating and devastating. Because we are fundamentally known at our deepest center.

And so I have no choice. I simply have no choice. Before you.

Leaves

Leaves (for N.) by Leo Campos (10/20/10)

Autumn rain scribbles at my window
"Write this to her"

Dry yellow leaves
Across the parking lot
Scratching their way to winter

Better to finish as ashes of a fire
Than dust. Even when dead
The memory of the desire
(Which burned) can become the next flame's bed

The leaf whispers of love
To a sun-loving tree
As the wind takes it away