Blog moved to Wordpress - July 2011.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
God's simple will
I am not so sure why it needs to be difficult: God's will is Reality, and God is none other than His Will. So God can only be found in reality.
In reality (hah!) this is harder than it should be. But the difficulty in accessing reality is what I would call Original Sin. These are the thoughts which drag us back into history with condemnations or vainglory, and push us forward into a lotus-eater cloud of poppy-induced stupor of fear or...vainglory...see the pattern? I do, I sure do. And I see myself repeating either the fear or the vanity subroutines over and over.
God is the most plainly obvious being that exists, if we but look. God speaks in the most plainly obvious ways, if we listen. Perhaps listen with the ears of our heart, as St. B. recommends.
Quite as obviously Reality does not speak using language, as Psalm 19 put it: They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them./ Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. At the same time it is not diffcult to understand at all. When I want to know someone's name I ask "What is your name?" When I want to know directions to a place I ask (sometimes my phone, sometimes the internet, but I ask!): "Where is such-and-such place?" I ask/type and I hear/read the answer. There is no reason to suppose it would ever be otherwise in a plain-and-simple world. And this is where we live. The world is very flat, and a brazen miracle. Yet we have penchant for the obscurities of pride.
And in this infection lies the very road to healing. It is through the fog and fever of vainglory that we must convalesce. It is so much easier to label difficulties as obstacles, as demons to be vanquished and exorcised. How much more interesting to develop a path of embrace and peacemaking. Why all this shouting of war? Why not embrace the demon which torments us?
In reality (hah!) this is harder than it should be. But the difficulty in accessing reality is what I would call Original Sin. These are the thoughts which drag us back into history with condemnations or vainglory, and push us forward into a lotus-eater cloud of poppy-induced stupor of fear or...vainglory...see the pattern? I do, I sure do. And I see myself repeating either the fear or the vanity subroutines over and over.
God is the most plainly obvious being that exists, if we but look. God speaks in the most plainly obvious ways, if we listen. Perhaps listen with the ears of our heart, as St. B. recommends.
Quite as obviously Reality does not speak using language, as Psalm 19 put it: They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them./ Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. At the same time it is not diffcult to understand at all. When I want to know someone's name I ask "What is your name?" When I want to know directions to a place I ask (sometimes my phone, sometimes the internet, but I ask!): "Where is such-and-such place?" I ask/type and I hear/read the answer. There is no reason to suppose it would ever be otherwise in a plain-and-simple world. And this is where we live. The world is very flat, and a brazen miracle. Yet we have penchant for the obscurities of pride.
And in this infection lies the very road to healing. It is through the fog and fever of vainglory that we must convalesce. It is so much easier to label difficulties as obstacles, as demons to be vanquished and exorcised. How much more interesting to develop a path of embrace and peacemaking. Why all this shouting of war? Why not embrace the demon which torments us?
I do not mean indulge the demon. But embrace the demon. It is just a mirage, a fantasy, a phantasm. How do we embrace a demon? You know you are facing a demon if you fear "it" (whatever it is). You know you are facing a demon if the mere thought of embracing "it" revolts you. You know you are facing a demon if despite the fear and the loathing you are aroused by its presence. You know you are facing a demon if there is a family curse. You know you are facing a demon if you feel weakened in will at the mere thought of it. You know you are facing a demon if you crave the shame of indulgence. You know you are facing a demon if you discover inhuman strength, supernatural cunning to feed it.
You are very well aware of all of the above (and more), but you anchor yourself in prayer, "Help me! God help me! Jesus help me!" The Jerusalem Community Rule of Life (JCRL) states: "To bring your prayer right into the city and to receive the city into your prayer. To live the link between action and contemplation, work and contemplation, the street and contemplation" (JCRL 2:14).
So, true prayer happens in the context of the reality of life. It is the LIVING of action AND contemplation. As the psalmist puts it "Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave?" (Psalm 6. See also 88, 115, etc). Praying is an action of living. True contemplation is just as possible in the car with your spouse as it is on retreat in a monastery or on top of a remote mountain.
In fact, the work which God has offered me as I sat idle in the marketplace, in the eleventh hour hour, the work which I have willingly accepted, is the very work of contemplation of God in the heart of Jesus Christ in the middle of this moment.
And it is a simple job, very simple.
Monday, July 4, 2011
A field guide to bullshit
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Scientists predict future actions based on brain activity
QUOTE: The team found that by using the signals from many brain regions, they could predict, better than chance, which of the actions the volunteer was merely intending to do, seconds later.
Evangelism
Reuters says: A coalition of major Christian churches including the Vatican launched a rule book on Tuesday for spreading their faith that aims to reduce hostility from Islam and other religions to efforts to convert their followers.
The World Council of Churches says: Christians reach broad consensus on appropriate missionary conduct.
The second sounds both more plausible and less aggressive - but that's journalism for you!
The word that first jumps out is "respect" - self, mutual and solidarity. Also respect for the process of conversion (which can be lengthy and complex). Now a bad list of suggestions.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Imago relationship therapy
Quote: we are born in relationship, we are hurt in relationship, we area healed through relationship.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Is male libido the ultimate cause of war?
QUOTE: Across four experiments Lei Chang and his team showed that pictures of attractive women or women's legs had a raft of war-relevant effects on heterosexual male participants, including: biasing their judgments to be more bellicose towards hostile countries; speeding their ability to locate an armed soldier on a computer screen; and speeding their ability to recognise and locate war-related words on a computer screen. Equivalent effects after looking at pictures of attractive men were not found for female participants.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tale of a Slave
From Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia, pp. 290-292: "Consider the following sequence of cases, which we shall call the Tale of the Slave, and imagine it is about you."
Worth chewing on this one! At which point is it no longer slavery? From my perspective as long as there was no consensual relationship than it is slavery. No matter how "free" (or democratic) - if I cannot choose, and do not have the power to or the means to, end the relationship, then it is slavery, no?
There is much we are slaves to. Some quite willingly we enter into contract, and as long as it gives us benefits (pleasure, security, etc) then we will continue enthralled. But the moment the requirements of a contract are distasteful (or even detestable) to us, then we will look for ways to break the contract.
Where does that leave us?
Worth chewing on this one! At which point is it no longer slavery? From my perspective as long as there was no consensual relationship than it is slavery. No matter how "free" (or democratic) - if I cannot choose, and do not have the power to or the means to, end the relationship, then it is slavery, no?
There is much we are slaves to. Some quite willingly we enter into contract, and as long as it gives us benefits (pleasure, security, etc) then we will continue enthralled. But the moment the requirements of a contract are distasteful (or even detestable) to us, then we will look for ways to break the contract.
Where does that leave us?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Experimental Theology: "Jesus Stopped": On Interruptibility
Experimental Theology: "Jesus Stopped": On Interruptibility
Interruptibility, the idea that you are more important than me, is a critical component of Desert Father wisdom. Over and over again they practice hospitality. It is also, of course, a cardinal virtue for Benedictine spirituality.
Of the many many stories of hospitality in the desert tradition there is this one, which I strive to make my own: "A Brother came to a hermit. As he was taking his leave he said, 'Forgive me, abba, for preventing you from keeping your rule.' The hermit answered, 'My rule is to welcome you with hospitality, and to send you on your way in peace.'" (in "Desert Fathers" by Benedicta Ward)
In doing that you fulfill all the law and the prophets, as it were.
Interruptibility, the idea that you are more important than me, is a critical component of Desert Father wisdom. Over and over again they practice hospitality. It is also, of course, a cardinal virtue for Benedictine spirituality.
Of the many many stories of hospitality in the desert tradition there is this one, which I strive to make my own: "A Brother came to a hermit. As he was taking his leave he said, 'Forgive me, abba, for preventing you from keeping your rule.' The hermit answered, 'My rule is to welcome you with hospitality, and to send you on your way in peace.'" (in "Desert Fathers" by Benedicta Ward)
In doing that you fulfill all the law and the prophets, as it were.
The Art of Narcissism
QUOTE: "In the self-portraits, you can find a lot of stereotypes and icons from movies, advertising and the music industry. Somehow, this network of self-portraits is a mirror of society."
I do not get it, not fully. Of course I understand that we are infinitely interesting to ourselves. How could we not be? We are the primary source of pleasure and pain in our lives. We are the source of cravings and source of satisfaction. We are for ourselves like we cannot be for anything or anyone else.
I know this insight sounds profoundly idiotic. My point precisely. It is as idiotic as narcissism.
Why do we love ourselves so much? Why would we turn the camera at ourselves, over and over?
First a confession: I have not ever, to the best of my recollection, done a self-portrait. At least not for the pleasure of it. I have had my picture taken for various official documents and other means of identification. But I fail to see the need of capturing a self-portrait. A collolary confession: I do not find self-portraits of other people particularly interesting. Portraits I really do like. It is self portraiture which is uninteresting to me.
Still, like everyone else, once shown a group picture, my eyes first scan it looking for myself. And only then will I look for others.
Do I not remember the event which is being pictured? Was I not there? It must be something about having a chance to see me through another's eyes which is interestinng, perhaps. So this is how I look to you!
Because it is very very hard to break out of myself and see me as an "other." I would not say it is impossible, but it is a difficult trick. I live in this bubble of "me" which filters, tints and taints all that I am and do.
Self-portraiture might be either a way to increase the strentgh of this "me-field," reinforcing my self-esteem (a la the Twitter revelations of (in)famous celebreties and politicians), or it could be a way to help my egocentricity to lose its hold, to allow me to see myself as other, and thus weaken the grasp of the ego in defining my self-importance.
Perhaps.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Why I Am Not a Conservative - Hayek
The only Old Viennese that is worth reading at all times...obviously not (ever) Sigmund, but rather Friedrich. Together with his cognate from Prussia they form a great vaccine against most of what passes for thinking.
QUOTE: "What the liberal must ask, first of all, is not how fast or how far we should move, but where we should move. In fact, he differs much more from the collectivist radical of today than does the conservative. While the last generally holds merely a mild and moderate version of the prejudices of his time, the liberal today must more positively oppose some of the basic conceptions which most conservatives share with the socialists."
And, a little earlier, this zinger that explains more than is possible to ask: "Let me now state what seems to me the decisive objection to any conservatism which deserves to be called such. It is that by its very nature it cannot offer an alternative to the direction in which we are moving. It may succeed by its resistance to current tendencies in slowing down undesirable developments, but, since it does not indicate another direction, it cannot prevent their continuance. It has, for this reason, invariably been the fate of conservatism to be dragged along a path not of its own choosing. The tug of war between conservatives and progressives can only affect the speed, not the direction, of contemporary developments."
Bingo! "Conservatism" is the breaks, not the steering wheel or the engine of any area of knowledge. it's sole function is to "delay gratification" (or change). This is an important function, but let us not ask for direction from a conservative.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
What colour is your breast-stroke? Or why synaesthesia is more about ideas than crossed-senses
The interesting thing is how my oldest son has started a "campaign" (among friends and family members) to label "traingles" a color. One of his (less synesthetic) friends tut-tuts the idea saying "traingles are a shape." Since I am always looking for creative versions of things, I wondered out loud if triangle wasn't secretly a scent, which meant it was a taste...something on the more acidic side of things, perhaps lime?
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Running easy
I hate running injuries. To be more precise I hate anything which does not include the words "donuts" or "recliner". For someone who hates injuries you would think that the wise decision would be to avoid running completely. In fact stay away from all forms of sports and any activity which involves heavy breathing.
My least favorite of all injuries is pulling a calf muscle. It is a really annoying injury. As far as injuries go it is a bottom-feeder. It really is. If you get a major trauma or even something which will give you scars you have something to brag about, and a fail-safe excuse to avoid mowing the lawn for a while. But a pulled muscle? As far as injuries go it is right down there with hang nails and paper cuts.
Last time I pulled a calf muscle I eneded up going to the doctor. The way it works is that I limp in and am asked by the receptionist what is my problem. I am pretty certain she meant my medical issue nto the fact that I was disturbing her magazine reading. So I say "Pulled my calf muscle" as she types away into her computer. I could not make out exactly what she wrote but I think I saw "Whinny middle-aged man needs his Mommy."
After waiting for the required hour I am ushered in. The nurse pulls my file in the computer and reads it with a smirk. She turns to me and asks "How are you doing today?" Well gee let's see, I am at a doctor's office, so I would say on a scale of 1 to 10 this day started as a solid 3. After having to sit in your germ-infested waiting room with teh TV blaring so loud that you might as well check me for a concussion it has shrunk to a 2. But it is still early, you can make me wear one of those hospital gowns and sit here for another 30 minutes waiting for the doctor...Without really waiting for my answer she says "Please put this gown on." Oh yeah, better and better.
After that she types some more on the computer. I am conviced the computer is simply a glorified instant message machine between the disgruntled receptionist and the under-paid nurse. The nurse probably types "Whinny - oh yeah! And you should see him in his gown!" I know she typed that for sure because of the loud laughter I heard from the reception area as soon as as pressed enter.
Eventually the doctor comes in. I can tell she is a pro because she has that look that says "I have spent more than you will earn in 20 years, and the best years of my life learning all 10 major bones in the body, so you better be here to amaze me!" I am convinced that my doctor had her fingers crossed when she took the Hyppocratic Oath because when she does a check up she wears a HazMat suit. She asks "What seems to be the problem?"
Well the problem is that I have already spent 2 hours here and no one seems to know or care what the problem is. The second problem is pain. Pain is always a problem, especially chronic pain. No one wakes up and says "I will get me a cup o' pain this morning with my donuts!" Well I am sure some people do, but they tend to be successful talk radio hosts, and not likely to be invited into my house any time soon.
The doctor looks at me that way my cat does before proceeding to give herself a tongue bath. The docotor, though half-feral and with a look of someone who wishes she had joined a circus, does not proceed to give herself a tongue bath. She instead systematically prods the ten major bone structures (see? going to school is worth something!) in the hopes that there must be something which hurts. When I wince I can see the Aha! in her eyes. A very brief spark of interest. "So, Mr. campos. Your leg hurts?" Uh yes. She presses a few more times, by the third time I am certain she is just playing with it the way a toddler will press buttons and giggle every time a light goes one.
The spark of interest disappears quickly as she realizes that the leg is still (a) firmly attached to my body and (b) is not green or brown or oozing with fluids. Oh well. She shrugs "Take it easy and keep off that leg." Brilliant! Medical school is wonderfuL!
She scribbles something into a pad and hands it to me saying it will help me "manage my pain." I am sure that over the countless aeons of Campos family history, my ancestors developed this fine capacity to huh AVOID PAIN?! They also developed a strange capacity to ENJOY PLEASURE...go figure.
I look at the scrawled piece of paper that looks like one of my youngest kid's doodles. I am not sure it will help anything...perhaps there is a secret formula here for how to recover the lost 3 hours?
Mitochondria
http://www.herondance.org/reflections-wild-artist/
And one more thing: mitochondria come from the maternal line. We are all sons and daughters of Eve. There is a Buddhist Sutra which talks about our indebtedness to our mothers. Turns out to be truer than we think...
Monday, June 6, 2011
Stuff, Starve or Savor? Your Relationship to Food (and Life) | The Therapist Within
Good stuff! The web is full of "savories" today!
Gozer the Gozerian
Oh this is very good. Both a good summary and a great study. Between studying Gozer and the Flying Spaghetti Monster we should, if we are able to be charitable enough, be able to identify common traits of religions which are anchored on rock versus ones which are houses built on sand...seriously! What is the loss if we find that all religions share three common concepts:
(1) religion as embedded into the social and cultural life of a society
(2) mythmaking, creative myth-ing(?!) as religion's primary "product"
(3) religion as the litmus test for insider versus outsider
QUOTE: In other words, people's ideas about the divine powers of the universe began to reflect the new configuration of human political powers in society. It is no surprise, therefore, to learn that about the time the human institution of kingship was created so too was the notion of the kingship of the gods.
Bingo!
DSM 5: PDD-NOS
This disorder is supposed to be subsumed by a broader category of "Autism Spectrum Disorder". And, I kid you not, is called "Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified" - are you kidding me? How many of you would fail the test for PDD-NOS: do you or you child exhibit symptoms of some difficulty socializing with others? Check. How about repetitive behaviors wher eyou can get upset if disrupted - hmm I get cranky if you interrupt my morning cup of coffee... Check. How about heightened sensitivities to certain stimuli - wow! Let's see - video games? Sugar? Check!
I feel more than a little irritated at this kind of stuff.
I feel more than a little irritated at this kind of stuff.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
We three
Those were the days, I tell you! After spending an afternoon removing all the accessories from my new beach cruiser bike with counter pedaling brakes, things like fenders, chainguards, and the rear carrier which allowed you to, supposedly, carry groceries or school books.
My two best friends Chico and Edson and I, would go riding for hours on what some say is one of the longest gardens in the world (over 3 miles of gardens) with its endless curving pathways, statues and monuments. The equally long beach on one side and the busy main avenue on the other .
We would also go up and down the canals which are lined with jambolão trees (a type of plum, also known as jambolan or jamun in English) which were over 100 years old. The city has 19 canals, though the only ones that "really matter" were the 7 which empty on the beach and the serve as a reference for any place you want to go in town.
Navigation was always in reference to the canals, as in "Take Canal 3 and turn on Mario Carpenter, then take a right at Ana Costa and we will meet you at Brunella (a confectioner's shop with delicious treats)."
We would ride up and down the gardens for hours on end. And during those rides we would discuss all the important issues of the day. We would discuss our bikes and small improvements made and which was the best lubricant: oil or grease. Soccer was always a mandatory discussion. Amazingly all three of us supported different teams which frequently led to heated debates. We would discuss music, with profound topics such as whether or not Madonna or Cindy Lauper were the real deal - most of us thought Lauper was and Madonna would just fade away after one or two hits.
And then we would discuss women. Well it was not really a discussion. It was more of a liturgy. Edson was the older (by a year) and therefore wiser of us, having snuck a peak or two at his older brother's Playboy collection would regale us with forbidden knowledge.
The conversations would frequently begin with him intoning in a near whisper: "I read on Playboy that girls like that." At which point he would proceed to explain to us what "that" was. Chico and I would nod and agree without any hesitation, and without the faintest clue as to what he was referring to. Chico was the resident skeptic since he had 2 older sisters, and would frequently question Edson’s wisdom. Eventually we all agreed that sisters were not girls, as such, and therefore were not to be included in generalities about girl behavior. Edson would intone his 'misa est' by proclaiming "Girls are strange."
So much misinformation and sheer urban legends! But somehow a couple of things survived from all of these talks: one, women were to be handled very very carefully since they were highly flammable; two, the great danger made them have great value. Women to us three boys biking around a huge garden, were the most precious and desirable and scary things in the world. Second only to our bikes and soccer, or course.
My two best friends Chico and Edson and I, would go riding for hours on what some say is one of the longest gardens in the world (over 3 miles of gardens) with its endless curving pathways, statues and monuments. The equally long beach on one side and the busy main avenue on the other .
We would also go up and down the canals which are lined with jambolão trees (a type of plum, also known as jambolan or jamun in English) which were over 100 years old. The city has 19 canals, though the only ones that "really matter" were the 7 which empty on the beach and the serve as a reference for any place you want to go in town.
Navigation was always in reference to the canals, as in "Take Canal 3 and turn on Mario Carpenter, then take a right at Ana Costa and we will meet you at Brunella (a confectioner's shop with delicious treats)."
We would ride up and down the gardens for hours on end. And during those rides we would discuss all the important issues of the day. We would discuss our bikes and small improvements made and which was the best lubricant: oil or grease. Soccer was always a mandatory discussion. Amazingly all three of us supported different teams which frequently led to heated debates. We would discuss music, with profound topics such as whether or not Madonna or Cindy Lauper were the real deal - most of us thought Lauper was and Madonna would just fade away after one or two hits.
And then we would discuss women. Well it was not really a discussion. It was more of a liturgy. Edson was the older (by a year) and therefore wiser of us, having snuck a peak or two at his older brother's Playboy collection would regale us with forbidden knowledge.
The conversations would frequently begin with him intoning in a near whisper: "I read on Playboy that girls like that." At which point he would proceed to explain to us what "that" was. Chico and I would nod and agree without any hesitation, and without the faintest clue as to what he was referring to. Chico was the resident skeptic since he had 2 older sisters, and would frequently question Edson’s wisdom. Eventually we all agreed that sisters were not girls, as such, and therefore were not to be included in generalities about girl behavior. Edson would intone his 'misa est' by proclaiming "Girls are strange."
So much misinformation and sheer urban legends! But somehow a couple of things survived from all of these talks: one, women were to be handled very very carefully since they were highly flammable; two, the great danger made them have great value. Women to us three boys biking around a huge garden, were the most precious and desirable and scary things in the world. Second only to our bikes and soccer, or course.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Religious Experiences Shrink Part of the Brain: Scientific American
Quote: "It is also somewhat problematic that stress itself did not correlate with hippocampal volumes since this was one of the potential hypotheses proposed by the authors and thus, appears to undercut the conclusions."
I should say it is "somewhat problematic"!! Nevertheless, it is critical to see how whatever we are immersed in, immerses our brains, and therefore changes us. Or perhaps it is the other way around?
You are what you think, but not in a The Secret sort of way. Not even in a "name it and claim it" Osteen way. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say "You are how you think"?
I should say it is "somewhat problematic"!! Nevertheless, it is critical to see how whatever we are immersed in, immerses our brains, and therefore changes us. Or perhaps it is the other way around?
You are what you think, but not in a The Secret sort of way. Not even in a "name it and claim it" Osteen way. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say "You are how you think"?
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Nynphomania and the brain (Slate Magazine)
QUOTE: If you are a materialist holding the logical belief that the human brain, with all of its buzzing neural intricacies, its pulpy, electrified, arabesque chambers and labyrinthine coves, has been carved out over countless eons by the slow-and-steady hand of natural selection, then you will grant that specific brain regions evolved because they generated behaviors that were beneficial to our ancestors.
But not everything is so easily explained....
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
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.
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?
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?
Monday, May 16, 2011
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.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Compline prayer
Holy Mary Mother of God and all you angels and saints
Please help me to pray to Our Lord.
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.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
"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...
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...
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
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":
In 2006 the best-selling self-help book The Secret written by Rhonda Byrne states:
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).
"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).
Monday, March 14, 2011
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.
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!
Friday, March 4, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, February 14, 2011
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)
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
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...
Great watch
By spaceloom from Richmond, VA on 2/8/2011
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)
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