When I was in high school I didn't believe in miracles.
I wasn't an agnostic. Even then I had this kind of unstoppable awareness of a Great Divine... and I think people would have described me as religious.
But I was also very logical. Goaded by a sense of order perhaps, I sought the causal explanations for any and all events. So while I loved God and God's stories... I was fascinated with physics. Had someone walked into the foyer of my fancy and held a gun to my head, I probably would have chosen God over physics... but that choice would have been a hollow one, a bit like choosing to be with the safe girl you've been dating for years because you should, while the other one runs off to South America to feed the homeless.
As a teen God and God's ways never fascinated me. Miracles... yeah. Prayer... right. I enjoyed prayer. I had left behind the days when church was my weekly hour devoted to getting all the dirt out from under my nails. I would pray, and it would calm me. I sorta thought about it like meditating. Good for me. Cleared my head.
But physics! Ah, there was something. It lay at the base of all science, and if you played your disciplines in the right order, it was the foundation of all of learning. "Aren't all the realizations of the humanities just a sloppy approach to sociology?" the conversation starts. "And sociology, that's just an unfocused way of doing psychology." Whoever this is has now alienated 70% of all academics, and they haven't even really gotten started. "And psychology, psychology is just a behavioral approach to a few organs, all sufficiently studied by biology. Biology is nothing more than the chemistry of living things." Once basically everyone in the room has been insulted, the clincher, "And chemistry is just simplified physics."
Or, put more succinctly by Ernest Rutherford, the New Zealand scientist who discovered that atoms have a small charged nucleus:
"All science is either physics or stamp collecting."
Of all understanding, physics seemed king. It has at its core a bit of very reasonable reasoning. Things reliably cause other things to happen. (Or maybe "Things cause other things to happen reliably." Wherever the reliably goes, you get the point. Things making things happen, so long as the same situation comes up again, it will all happen the same.)
This assumption of reliability its what makes experiments so damn cool. Instead of waiting for events to randomly occur in such a way as to enlighten you about the world, you can start throwing spheres out of windows over and over and watch. To describe this reliable activity the physicists chose the language of mathematics, as math is the second most reliable language on the planet. (The first is French, but the lawyers managed to get their hands on that one.)
Armed with observation, experimental design, and mathematics, you the physicist are free to discover anything about the universe. Or rather, to do a lot of observations so some arrogant ass can come along fifteen years later, use your data, and become way more famous than you ever will be. But who cares? All in the name of science! (You always liked that kid anyway.)
Right. I loved physics. And I was good at it, too! Abstract math always came more easily than arithmetic, and I thrived on those word puzzles mixed with a kind of CSI flare that always dominates physics tests. (If a car explodes and raises to a temperature of 220 degrees Celsius while launching off of a 60 degree ramp over a 30 degree lake going 120 m/s, what is the temperature of the water at the base of the ramp 10 minutes after the car sinks into the water? Assume no air friction and a spherical car. Way more fun than multiplication tables.)
I gleefully sought to answer all the world's mysteries. I didn't believe in ghosts, curses, superstitions, aliens, spirits, faeries, psychics... the closest I got was fearing that I was some kind of demon who could psychically, albeit unconsciously, hurt people when I was upset. I think some guy tripped on a hurdle when he was beating me and some clothing fell in my closet one night when I as crying. Anyway, apart from the angsty teen inner drama, I pretty much saw the world as solidly welded together, with not much room for weirdness. Occum would have been proud.
But college brought me into a new world. Lots of things happened in college. My liberal leanings solidified into clearly expressible beliefs, like loving gay people and hating war. I started ironing out that whole demon complex. But probably most importantly, I started hanging out with people who not only believed God existed, but really actually believed. There's an important difference. Everybody believes that Chiropractic care exists... but talk to those people who believe in it. They want its healing power and they get it every day if they can figure out how. I now had friends who sought the presence of their God every day, and there was no tragedy to severe nor worry to small that they hesitated in bringing it before their loving creator.
Some of these people were hippy Pagans, syncing their magic to the phases of Mother Moon and identifying within themselves and others the primordial animism that animated all things.
Some of these people were devoted Christians, praying with such surrender that the dogmas of their church were dwarfed in the face of their relationship with their savior.
And some of these people were philosophers, acutely aware of how their ideas shaped their experience, guiding their thoughts so as to better orient them to the Divine.
Somewhere in the midst of these influences, the physical world started to seem less reliable. I took physics my first year of college, and while it was the only A I got either semester, it didn't feed me in the way other pursuits did. Philosophy, communication, and religion became my intellectual mainstay. I learned about every faith I could read about, or even more importantly, worship with. The world I had always sought to understand mathematically was suddenly coming into clearer focus asking questions about my perception and the acts of God, spirits, and the fae.
So long as we are quoting famous physicists, lets do one more. Good Ol' Einstein, who hopefully needs no introduction, puts it like this: "There are two ways to live your life - one is as though nothing is a miracle, the other is as though everything is a miracle."
I had definitely started to see the hand of God in all places. Swirling spiritual causes now dominated my thinking. All things made through this loving creation. The full realization of this presence of God came quite by accident when a handful of very enthusiastic non-Catholic Christians came to the Catholic bible study. They were totally welcome of course... but very quickly it became clear that they had not come to learn anything... but rather to correct our erroneous understanding of just about everything. I ended up getting into a lively debate concerning the creation of the earth with a pair of guys.
Pair of guys, "The earth was created by God in seven days, so sayeth the bible."
Tim, "No, the earth was created by God through a process uncovered by science." (Still love my physics, God just happens to be really good at it too!)
Pair of guys, "Weren't you listening... THE BIBLE! Its says otherwise."
Tim, "Bah, metaphors. I'll go by the evidence built into the geological data."
At this point, I think the conversation has come to an end road. For them, the authority is the bible, for me, it's paying attention to the world. But they go for gold.
Pair of guys, "Ok, so it looks like the earth is 4.5 billion years old. What if God created the earth in seven days, but gave it the appearance of age? All the rocks and stuff instantly in perfect place to make it look like it had actually happened"
Tim is flabbergasted by this logic. "Why would God do a silly thing like that?"
Guy 1, "We cannot know the mind of God."
Guy 2, "To test our faith in the Bible."
Tim has had it. They have presented what we call in the thinking game an unfalsifiable argument, as any evidence to the contrary is explained by the theory. Such ideologies aren't doomed to be wrong... but they are not though kindly of among philosophers as you can do so little with them.
So Tim fires back, "Ok, ok, what if God created the earth 15 seconds ago with all our memories instantly in perfect place so that it seemed like we had been having this conversation and actually believed what we were saying?"
Pair of guys, "Why would God do a silly thing like that?
Tim, "To test my patience."
Rest assured that my retelling of that conversation casts me as wittier than I really was. All my retorts were probably what I wished I had said after they left, and they likely left thinking they had saved my soul. And perhaps they had.
Oddly enough, it was that conversation that destabilized my notion of God as a distant creator, one who was really good at pool, big banging that perfect shot into the racked set, knowing perfectly how every ball would spin and bounce and eventually end up in the pockets. They had suggested that perhaps the beginning of time was not the last creative act of my Blessed One. I had somewhat insincerely suggested that it had been less than a minute ago. But as I ruminated on that retort more authentically, it seemed only natural to ask that if God could have created everything in its completeness 15 seconds ago, then why not now.
Why not now? Could it be that my brilliant creator was authoring everything, suddenly, perfectly, and completely in every now? Wow. Way easier to feel the loving touch of the Divine.
And so it was that my fascination with understanding the world from a causal framework came to an official end. If all things flood out of God in every moment, then a causal explanation is nothing more than a running commentary on the brush stroke of God as God lets it be revealed to us. Things accelerate as they fall not because of some rule God invented at the beginning of time, but rather because God gracefully creates the object moment after moment so that is each existence shares a fluid relationship to its past existences. Causation is then a story, a way of understanding events, and not an active agent in the unfolding of future events. God is the ongoing crafter, and an artist at that.
And so it was that I came to understand everything as a miracle. Everything as an act of God.
But that was college, and while I wouldn't have suspected it then, I have learned things since. Now, its always easier to tell the story of how you came to know the things you did when they are in the past. Explaining the root of your current beliefs is a bit trickier. I'll do my best.
I have more respect for honor than I ever have. I have come to understand people as both bound by circumstance and free in spirit. I have swallowed the bitter pill that God knows far more than me, and that I have to ask for help. My world explodes with gratitude, and I know I must serve.
I realize this is a kind of paltry description when compared to the narratives that mark the other two phases. But its the best I can do. I don't really know why I believe what I believe now. But I do know what I believe.
The Einstein was wrong. At least about miracles. Now, his formulation was simple and brilliant. There is a virtue that is used to evaluate theories, a sort of "less is more" sensibility. Parsimony, they call it. Basically, the fewer assumptions a theory has to posit... the more parsimonious it is... and therefore more valuable. Spoken so well by the Franciscan Occam, if two theories have the same explanatory power, then the simpler of the two is better. According to this aesthetics of thinking, Einstein's assertion about miracles is safe. Either nothing is a miracle or everything is. Sorta like saying it either all ones or all zeros. Both ways you only have to deal with one number. Both ways Occam is satisfied with the nice close shave you gave yourself with his razor.
And here is where I become a fanatic. Sorry Einstein. Sorry Occam. Perhaps my vision of the world will just have to make a few extra assumptions and posit a few extra entities. Or perhaps our two visions do not have the same explanatory power. However its is judged, here it is.
I believe that God creates the world in every moment. That much has not changed. I also believe that God tends to create the world with a certain finesse that makes a causal story to be worth pursuing and worth telling other people. But I believe that there are extraordinary miracles, miracles of a different order than the usual glorious ever blossoming of the All.
I believe that one of Gods coolest miracles is the will. My will. Yours, too. And, as God authors the world, God creates my body and my moods with much of the directions I desire with my will. Deftly my life issues forth from his will, but in a way that follows my design. In this way I am perfectly possessed. Possessed by God, much in the same way a ghost possesses someone in a movie, but unlike that clumsy specter who violates the subject of their habitation, Gods presence impinges in no way upon my psyche. The creator of all, a dexterous bull in the china shop of my mind.
God not only miraculously creates the world, but miraculously sanctifies it as well. Through me, without a single affront to my choosings, God works divinely. Touching, healing, blessing, enlightening, liberating...
I used to look for the physical cause for all things.
I used to look for the spiritual cause for all things.
But now I know that God's love of my will is so great that she will not violate it in pursuit of her perfect design.
And with that in mind, I know that it is not my task to uncover all the laws of the universe. Nor is it my task to understand all the spiritual mysteries. While neither of these pursuits are bad, they serve good only when in service to our greatest call.
To surrender to the will of God. When God comes to work thought us, we should get the fuck out of the way. In the quiet surrender to our God we become greater than any act of self could ever accomplish.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Creative Solutions to Moral Dilemmas
You hold the lever that decides the path of the train, but more importantly, whether the 20 people or the 1 infant will die.
Which will it be?
Should we protect the voiceless, unborn child? Or the reproductive rights of the oppressed?
Which will it be?
Should I spend that money on a low emissions car, or give the money to feed the homeless?
Which will it be?
Moral decision making is often hard. There are times where things we value come into distinct opposition with each other. Now, this isn't always the case. Often, in fact, quite often, the moral choice is clear and good, and that immoral one not worth even wasting time thinking about. Most of us do not struggle with the possibility of assaulting every passerby to acquire their wallet. But as funds thin down, we lose our homes, and our children start to starve... the contents of a strangers wallet start to promise an end to our very real suffering.
And so it has been, that throughout the history of moral contemplation, deciding between two misfortunes has been the prevailing concern. And why not? The hard questions are always more interesting than the easy ones, after all, and it it precisely in the difficult situations where true character shows itself.
So choose. The majority or the innocent. Life or choice. The ozone or the starving.
Its a hard thing to do.
Pursuing the greatest good actually makes it even harder. The founding principle behind the notion of the greatest good is a picture of the world where all goods come to be. While in its total manifestation such a miracle is only going to become a reality in the event of supernatural aid (and that is what will ultimately happen), this model is still of value to those of us who work with human hands.
We are challenged to see the good on both sides of moral dilemmas, and seek to obtain both goods.
Let us consider abortion. Current politics would have you choose. Choose between the plight of the totally defenseless child or the liberty and thriving of the mother. Conflicts flare up around issues such as when the child becomes a person or who should be notified in the case of the operation. The issue starts getting remarkably muddy very quickly.
But on another level, it is all very simple. On the one hand we have the life of the child, and on the other we have the liberty of the mother.
Take a look at a few documents concerning our nations founding ideas... and we've got problems. The state of society, current medical technology, and personal action all swirl together in a way that puts these two valuable things at odds.
But, for those of us committed to the greatest good we must not hasten to one or the other. Rather, we must keep thinking. Can we imagine a world where mothers had no desire to kill the child in their womb? Or perhaps a way to make a woman un-pregnant while preserving the life of the fetus?
What if the values of society were different? What if, though the inspiring and compassionate revelation of reality all people saw the new life as holy and sacrosanct? Not likely to be killed then. Of course, by all people that would have to include employers, teachers, social services, peers, parents, friends, and children... no matter the circumstances of the pregnancy or the conception. In this way most unborn children would live because most women would choose life, uncoerced and unintimidated by a world ready to help her bear their infant into the world.
Or,
What of advanced medical technology that could safely extract the fetus as it matured in the womb? Harmlessly and anonymously the woman becomes un-pregnant, and at the same time the child grows in its surrogate mother (be it another woman or a medical facility). Could not then these two values be reaffirmed?
It is only in our weakness, ignorance, and awkwardness that we are forced into moral dilemmas. In a perfect world, the world to which we feebly aspire, all things move into ripe wellness with grace and vitality. We are called then to refuse to choose between goods, and strive to find creative answers to the problems that plagued our predecessors.
For there is something wrong with a world where people kill their own babies and the starving must steal to eat. When we see such things... its time to change the world.
Which will it be?
Should we protect the voiceless, unborn child? Or the reproductive rights of the oppressed?
Which will it be?
Should I spend that money on a low emissions car, or give the money to feed the homeless?
Which will it be?
Moral decision making is often hard. There are times where things we value come into distinct opposition with each other. Now, this isn't always the case. Often, in fact, quite often, the moral choice is clear and good, and that immoral one not worth even wasting time thinking about. Most of us do not struggle with the possibility of assaulting every passerby to acquire their wallet. But as funds thin down, we lose our homes, and our children start to starve... the contents of a strangers wallet start to promise an end to our very real suffering.
And so it has been, that throughout the history of moral contemplation, deciding between two misfortunes has been the prevailing concern. And why not? The hard questions are always more interesting than the easy ones, after all, and it it precisely in the difficult situations where true character shows itself.
So choose. The majority or the innocent. Life or choice. The ozone or the starving.
Its a hard thing to do.
Pursuing the greatest good actually makes it even harder. The founding principle behind the notion of the greatest good is a picture of the world where all goods come to be. While in its total manifestation such a miracle is only going to become a reality in the event of supernatural aid (and that is what will ultimately happen), this model is still of value to those of us who work with human hands.
We are challenged to see the good on both sides of moral dilemmas, and seek to obtain both goods.
Let us consider abortion. Current politics would have you choose. Choose between the plight of the totally defenseless child or the liberty and thriving of the mother. Conflicts flare up around issues such as when the child becomes a person or who should be notified in the case of the operation. The issue starts getting remarkably muddy very quickly.
But on another level, it is all very simple. On the one hand we have the life of the child, and on the other we have the liberty of the mother.
Take a look at a few documents concerning our nations founding ideas... and we've got problems. The state of society, current medical technology, and personal action all swirl together in a way that puts these two valuable things at odds.
But, for those of us committed to the greatest good we must not hasten to one or the other. Rather, we must keep thinking. Can we imagine a world where mothers had no desire to kill the child in their womb? Or perhaps a way to make a woman un-pregnant while preserving the life of the fetus?
What if the values of society were different? What if, though the inspiring and compassionate revelation of reality all people saw the new life as holy and sacrosanct? Not likely to be killed then. Of course, by all people that would have to include employers, teachers, social services, peers, parents, friends, and children... no matter the circumstances of the pregnancy or the conception. In this way most unborn children would live because most women would choose life, uncoerced and unintimidated by a world ready to help her bear their infant into the world.
Or,
What of advanced medical technology that could safely extract the fetus as it matured in the womb? Harmlessly and anonymously the woman becomes un-pregnant, and at the same time the child grows in its surrogate mother (be it another woman or a medical facility). Could not then these two values be reaffirmed?
It is only in our weakness, ignorance, and awkwardness that we are forced into moral dilemmas. In a perfect world, the world to which we feebly aspire, all things move into ripe wellness with grace and vitality. We are called then to refuse to choose between goods, and strive to find creative answers to the problems that plagued our predecessors.
For there is something wrong with a world where people kill their own babies and the starving must steal to eat. When we see such things... its time to change the world.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Car
I have discovered the secret of sleeping in my car.
When I first really started considering this alternative lifestyle, I slept in my car... just to see how it would work. Wow it sucked! I tried sleeping in the passenger side, front seat fully reclined. But I couldn't really manage to do something comfortable with my legs (a bit like trying to sleep in an airplane, with more reclining). I slept so poorly that night I slinked back to my bed and had a two hour nap to try to actually be rested. A bit crestfallen, I resolved to find other sleeping arrangements.
The 70% likelihood of rain gave me some second thoughts about camping. I love the mud, don't get me wrong, but the notion of packing up that soggy, grimy tent and putting it in my car was just enough dissuasion that I decided to give the car sleep another try.
I drive up to the parking complex for the Metro, all the way to the top, and off in a tucked away little corner. Inspired by a few brainstorms from Kristen, I hatched the following sleeping arrangement. With both the front seats pushed forward, I constructed a sleeping place diagonally crossed the car. With a blanket shoved there and a sleeping bad here, the sleeping landscape was a bit like a reclining chair. You know, the ones with the flip up leg supports?
Slept like a baby! A well fed and unrealistically rested baby.
Now, it happened to not rain that night, though, two nights later, as I looked at the dark clouds pouring toward the mountain, I decided to try it again.
Same situation. Total comfort; unmolested. As it was still raining upon my waking, I took a shower in the light drizzle. I crouched in front of my car, and just let the rain slowly soak my hair and body. God provides. My peaceful cleansing was interrupted by a security guard cruising by on his little battery powered car. I give him a joyful wave. He waves back, totally flabbergasted. and just keeps driving.
I reflect as I am pulling my clothing over my damp body as I drive away. The vagrant life trades worries and joys with the home life. When have I had the blissful opportunity to bathe in God's bountiful waters? Not often.
But then, when have I had to escape my morning shower early for fear of security guards calling cops? Not often, either.
When I first really started considering this alternative lifestyle, I slept in my car... just to see how it would work. Wow it sucked! I tried sleeping in the passenger side, front seat fully reclined. But I couldn't really manage to do something comfortable with my legs (a bit like trying to sleep in an airplane, with more reclining). I slept so poorly that night I slinked back to my bed and had a two hour nap to try to actually be rested. A bit crestfallen, I resolved to find other sleeping arrangements.
The 70% likelihood of rain gave me some second thoughts about camping. I love the mud, don't get me wrong, but the notion of packing up that soggy, grimy tent and putting it in my car was just enough dissuasion that I decided to give the car sleep another try.
I drive up to the parking complex for the Metro, all the way to the top, and off in a tucked away little corner. Inspired by a few brainstorms from Kristen, I hatched the following sleeping arrangement. With both the front seats pushed forward, I constructed a sleeping place diagonally crossed the car. With a blanket shoved there and a sleeping bad here, the sleeping landscape was a bit like a reclining chair. You know, the ones with the flip up leg supports?
Slept like a baby! A well fed and unrealistically rested baby.
Now, it happened to not rain that night, though, two nights later, as I looked at the dark clouds pouring toward the mountain, I decided to try it again.
Same situation. Total comfort; unmolested. As it was still raining upon my waking, I took a shower in the light drizzle. I crouched in front of my car, and just let the rain slowly soak my hair and body. God provides. My peaceful cleansing was interrupted by a security guard cruising by on his little battery powered car. I give him a joyful wave. He waves back, totally flabbergasted. and just keeps driving.
I reflect as I am pulling my clothing over my damp body as I drive away. The vagrant life trades worries and joys with the home life. When have I had the blissful opportunity to bathe in God's bountiful waters? Not often.
But then, when have I had to escape my morning shower early for fear of security guards calling cops? Not often, either.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Down to a Backpack
On Monday night, at 10:30, I started my car to make the drive into the mountains.
Or rather, I barely started my car.
The battery light had been on earlier that day, and I had watched with some worry as the voltage fluxed from 10-12. Voltage now read just above 8. Not the way I want to drive into the mountains. So I call Jonah. Matt. Priyanka. Jen. Jen picks up.
I crash at Jen's house. Morning rolls around, I manage to get one more start outta my car, and I limp it down to the Steve's lil' Engine. Walk to my bike, bike to my work. At this point I am estranged from my vehicle, which now stores my basic living supplies. All I have is my backpack, its academic contents, my cell phone charger, and a small travel bag with a few hygiene products.
Or at least, that's what it would seem. I also have my wallet, and while I am not wealthy, I have the ability to wield more money than 60% of the world uses in a year. I have my cell phone, capable of communicating at a moments notice to nearly anyone anywhere. Textually, vocally, and even pictorially.
I also have a great pair of shoes. Good for running. Black so they look kinda classy. Compared to the footwear throughout history, they are a walking miracle. They are nearly as flexible as a silken slipper, and nearly as durable as hardened leather. Great traction on the bottom. They let air flow through the top. They even lace to different tightnesses depending on my mood and given activity.
My jeans are a similar wonder. Not so thick that I'm hot, not so thin that I'm cold. Rugged and protective; soft and comfy. Reinforced seams. This zipper thing is awesome too. It allows them to fit me perfectly, and still come off easily when I want them to. My pockets are both spacious and classy.
When it comes down to it, even though at that moment I had maybe... 1% of all the things I usually have at my disposal, far less than 1% if measuring it by space, I had more luxury than many people today, and certainly most throughout history.
Side note.
You know when you get your car worked on... how resentful you feel when looking at the hours of labor you are paying for? Well, when I was looking over it this time, I added it up in my head, and suddenly realized that the man MUST have under calculated. I had talked to him half a dozen times over the last few days... I bet he worked 3x more than he was billing me.
Perhaps it was the wash of relief of getting my vagrant home back. Perhaps it was because of my intense gratitude for things like my shoes that gave me an intense appreciation for an awesome machine like my car. Or perhaps it was the subtle knowledge that I didn't have to pay any rent or utilities at the end of the month.
Whatever it was, I look him side long as he is explaining the bill and ask, "You sure you are being honest with these hours?"
He's flustered, starts to say something, and I realize I need to clarify.
"It seems to me," I put in, "that you guys worked a lot more than this."
He gets a grin and replies, "If we actually put down what we work on these things... I don't think most people would be very happy."
"Well, I'm not most people. You sure you don't want to give your self a more fair shake? I'd gladly pay it. You deserve it."
He shakes his head vehemently, "No, no, we learn a lot while working on problems like yours. Its our pleasure."
"Ok, well, I'm glad. I'm just saying. I really appreciate it. I know you worked hard," I say. I feel that little ring of truth.
"That's what I do, work hard." He says sincerely.
"Me too." I earnestly reply, recalling church work, school work, class planning, syllabuses, school applications...
"Well, labors of love I suppose," Steve says, and gives me a half-side hug, half clap on the shoulder.
I thank him as I shake his hand.
My car starts like a dream. All the little lights and dials are in the right place. I smoothly accelerate on my way. There are a few things that have happened in the last two minutes that have never happened in my life.
1.) I have never looked at a bill for HUNDREDS of dollars and felt like it wasn't enough.
2.) I have never appreciated the raw yet graceful automobile as I do while driving away from the shop. (Walking and biking, my friend, will give you a very realistic vision of how much work your car really does.)
3.) I have never been hugged by my mechanic. Figure that one out.
Or rather, I barely started my car.
The battery light had been on earlier that day, and I had watched with some worry as the voltage fluxed from 10-12. Voltage now read just above 8. Not the way I want to drive into the mountains. So I call Jonah. Matt. Priyanka. Jen. Jen picks up.
I crash at Jen's house. Morning rolls around, I manage to get one more start outta my car, and I limp it down to the Steve's lil' Engine. Walk to my bike, bike to my work. At this point I am estranged from my vehicle, which now stores my basic living supplies. All I have is my backpack, its academic contents, my cell phone charger, and a small travel bag with a few hygiene products.
Or at least, that's what it would seem. I also have my wallet, and while I am not wealthy, I have the ability to wield more money than 60% of the world uses in a year. I have my cell phone, capable of communicating at a moments notice to nearly anyone anywhere. Textually, vocally, and even pictorially.
I also have a great pair of shoes. Good for running. Black so they look kinda classy. Compared to the footwear throughout history, they are a walking miracle. They are nearly as flexible as a silken slipper, and nearly as durable as hardened leather. Great traction on the bottom. They let air flow through the top. They even lace to different tightnesses depending on my mood and given activity.
My jeans are a similar wonder. Not so thick that I'm hot, not so thin that I'm cold. Rugged and protective; soft and comfy. Reinforced seams. This zipper thing is awesome too. It allows them to fit me perfectly, and still come off easily when I want them to. My pockets are both spacious and classy.
When it comes down to it, even though at that moment I had maybe... 1% of all the things I usually have at my disposal, far less than 1% if measuring it by space, I had more luxury than many people today, and certainly most throughout history.
Side note.
You know when you get your car worked on... how resentful you feel when looking at the hours of labor you are paying for? Well, when I was looking over it this time, I added it up in my head, and suddenly realized that the man MUST have under calculated. I had talked to him half a dozen times over the last few days... I bet he worked 3x more than he was billing me.
Perhaps it was the wash of relief of getting my vagrant home back. Perhaps it was because of my intense gratitude for things like my shoes that gave me an intense appreciation for an awesome machine like my car. Or perhaps it was the subtle knowledge that I didn't have to pay any rent or utilities at the end of the month.
Whatever it was, I look him side long as he is explaining the bill and ask, "You sure you are being honest with these hours?"
He's flustered, starts to say something, and I realize I need to clarify.
"It seems to me," I put in, "that you guys worked a lot more than this."
He gets a grin and replies, "If we actually put down what we work on these things... I don't think most people would be very happy."
"Well, I'm not most people. You sure you don't want to give your self a more fair shake? I'd gladly pay it. You deserve it."
He shakes his head vehemently, "No, no, we learn a lot while working on problems like yours. Its our pleasure."
"Ok, well, I'm glad. I'm just saying. I really appreciate it. I know you worked hard," I say. I feel that little ring of truth.
"That's what I do, work hard." He says sincerely.
"Me too." I earnestly reply, recalling church work, school work, class planning, syllabuses, school applications...
"Well, labors of love I suppose," Steve says, and gives me a half-side hug, half clap on the shoulder.
I thank him as I shake his hand.
My car starts like a dream. All the little lights and dials are in the right place. I smoothly accelerate on my way. There are a few things that have happened in the last two minutes that have never happened in my life.
1.) I have never looked at a bill for HUNDREDS of dollars and felt like it wasn't enough.
2.) I have never appreciated the raw yet graceful automobile as I do while driving away from the shop. (Walking and biking, my friend, will give you a very realistic vision of how much work your car really does.)
3.) I have never been hugged by my mechanic. Figure that one out.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Brilliant Good
Perhaps is was 80's fantasy flicks... a horned and painted Tim Curry with his honeyed words and that seductive, dancing black dress.
Or maybe it was Al Pacino. I swear that man has an uncanny ability to get me to root for the bad guy...
It's possible it wasn't the awesome bad guys, but the sucky good guys. One too many over dramatic, under developed, uninteresting heroes of little substance and even less plausibility.
Maybe it isn't even the movies. Could be a settling postmodernism. What about increased information transparency and the corruption it reveals? Maybe its the crumbling idealism of the boomers, or the musical taste of the Xers.
Whatever the cause, its pretty easy to see that cynicism is clever and cool and that evil is smart and sexy. On the other side of the spectrum, those who are loyal are dopey, those who are giving are weak, and those who are optimistic are dumb.
I happen to disagree.
Before I go on, let me qualify my disagreement. I don't think that the world is falling apart, or that this is the despair of the modern age, or any of that other, "These are the people ruining everything," mumbo jumbo. Quite the contrary. I think the world is pretty amazing, that we have incredible challenges but even more amazing resources with which to overcome them.
I just think that the cynics and romaticizers of evil are wrong.
Being jaded is boring, and evil is dumb.
Here is the song and dance. True good is the most brilliant act that can be accomplished, as it requires the well being of all things to be brought into alignment. Hope is dynamic because it catalyzes constructive action.
Or maybe it was Al Pacino. I swear that man has an uncanny ability to get me to root for the bad guy...
It's possible it wasn't the awesome bad guys, but the sucky good guys. One too many over dramatic, under developed, uninteresting heroes of little substance and even less plausibility.
Maybe it isn't even the movies. Could be a settling postmodernism. What about increased information transparency and the corruption it reveals? Maybe its the crumbling idealism of the boomers, or the musical taste of the Xers.
Whatever the cause, its pretty easy to see that cynicism is clever and cool and that evil is smart and sexy. On the other side of the spectrum, those who are loyal are dopey, those who are giving are weak, and those who are optimistic are dumb.
I happen to disagree.
Before I go on, let me qualify my disagreement. I don't think that the world is falling apart, or that this is the despair of the modern age, or any of that other, "These are the people ruining everything," mumbo jumbo. Quite the contrary. I think the world is pretty amazing, that we have incredible challenges but even more amazing resources with which to overcome them.
I just think that the cynics and romaticizers of evil are wrong.
Being jaded is boring, and evil is dumb.
Here is the song and dance. True good is the most brilliant act that can be accomplished, as it requires the well being of all things to be brought into alignment. Hope is dynamic because it catalyzes constructive action.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Relaxation
After meeting with the lay director of the Cursillo community of Orange County today (more, I imagine, concerning Cursillo soon to follow), I decided to drop by mom's house, as I was nearly there already. There was some possiblity we would get together and game... but it didn't end up panning out.
Instead, I ended up having a wonderfully relaxing evening, from unscored Scrabble with mom to Burn After Reading.
Not really sure why it was so relaxing. Perhaps it was simply the first day I had off in some time... no work, no familial obligations, no moving. I have to say, though, I felt really right. I may have been carrying that home of mine in more ways than one.
I had an interesting ecstatic experiance in the grocery store. Usually I have people related spontaneous ecstacies, but this one was food related. Weird. While walking along the spice and sauce isle, I had a wild rush of tastes, accompanied with the profound gratitude for all the diversity in all created. Lasted for about fifteen seconds.
Instead, I ended up having a wonderfully relaxing evening, from unscored Scrabble with mom to Burn After Reading.
Not really sure why it was so relaxing. Perhaps it was simply the first day I had off in some time... no work, no familial obligations, no moving. I have to say, though, I felt really right. I may have been carrying that home of mine in more ways than one.
I had an interesting ecstatic experiance in the grocery store. Usually I have people related spontaneous ecstacies, but this one was food related. Weird. While walking along the spice and sauce isle, I had a wild rush of tastes, accompanied with the profound gratitude for all the diversity in all created. Lasted for about fifteen seconds.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Vagrancy
While in conversation with a dear friend last night, I characterized my situation as vagrancy. I explained that homeless was not quite right, as I had many homes, or one big home, depending on how you want to look at it.
What is different about my situation is the fact that I'm roaming. Unlike the single house I used to live in, there are now multiple places where I lay my head. Last night; mom's house. I was already her way visiting a friend, so I just bopped down and took the couch. She offered to gussy up the cubby for me. With a wry smile, I told her I didn't need a bedroom.
Showered at mom's this morning. I really need to get that 24 Hour Fitness membership. I also couldn't find my travel box last night. Kind of a minor disaster there. I'll have to check in the light of day, and if it isn't in the car, promptly relocate it and put it there.
As of yet, no mind blowing revelations. :)
What is different about my situation is the fact that I'm roaming. Unlike the single house I used to live in, there are now multiple places where I lay my head. Last night; mom's house. I was already her way visiting a friend, so I just bopped down and took the couch. She offered to gussy up the cubby for me. With a wry smile, I told her I didn't need a bedroom.
Showered at mom's this morning. I really need to get that 24 Hour Fitness membership. I also couldn't find my travel box last night. Kind of a minor disaster there. I'll have to check in the light of day, and if it isn't in the car, promptly relocate it and put it there.
As of yet, no mind blowing revelations. :)
Thursday, January 8, 2009
First Night Out
Luxury!
I have a one person, one pole, greenish brown tent that sets up in about 1.5 minutes,
a one inch thick, blow up mattress that basically totally covers the floor of the tent,
a blue, down sleeping bag (rated at 30 degrees),
my queen sized comforter and my two pillows stuffed into one case from my bed...
... and it all more or less fits in my backpack.
Status check after the first night: not cold, not wet, not dangerous, not loud. The morning dew may prove annoying and mildewy if I continue to pack up right away as I did this morning. I did have a little scare when I was unpacking my car last night. Already kinda on edge from the idea of getting arrested or something silly like that, when the bush that I was parked next to started rustling, well, I freaked out more. For about one second I considered getting back in my car, but then the phrase, "Move confidently in the direction of your dreams," ran through my head. So I unloaded my stuff confidently, but accidentally knocked a portable blower for my big air mattress out of the trunk, it lands on the ground, and promptly turns on. "Ok," I think to myself, "move confidently if clumsily in the direction of your dreams."
Still a bit tense, the walk into the wilderness section of Eaton Canyon took much longer than I remember my well lighted, light hearted, heart pumping hikes. But the moon is a bit more than half past full, and I can see without my headlamp. Cross the empty river, and I'm into the wild. Camp is into the trees a bit, though, upon my waking, it was in sight of the trail. Set up goes well, I'm in bed by 10:40, and I'm off to sleep.
I wake up a few times every night, last night was no different. Its... a little less comfy on the ground than my bed, though the sleeping bag + blanket = toasty warm. Camp broke easily, my only concern being the moisture that may be problematic since I just packed it away.
Here I am at work. While it still feels a bit like a camping trip, I can now say my life of vagrancy has really begun.
I have a one person, one pole, greenish brown tent that sets up in about 1.5 minutes,
a one inch thick, blow up mattress that basically totally covers the floor of the tent,
a blue, down sleeping bag (rated at 30 degrees),
my queen sized comforter and my two pillows stuffed into one case from my bed...
... and it all more or less fits in my backpack.
Status check after the first night: not cold, not wet, not dangerous, not loud. The morning dew may prove annoying and mildewy if I continue to pack up right away as I did this morning. I did have a little scare when I was unpacking my car last night. Already kinda on edge from the idea of getting arrested or something silly like that, when the bush that I was parked next to started rustling, well, I freaked out more. For about one second I considered getting back in my car, but then the phrase, "Move confidently in the direction of your dreams," ran through my head. So I unloaded my stuff confidently, but accidentally knocked a portable blower for my big air mattress out of the trunk, it lands on the ground, and promptly turns on. "Ok," I think to myself, "move confidently if clumsily in the direction of your dreams."
Still a bit tense, the walk into the wilderness section of Eaton Canyon took much longer than I remember my well lighted, light hearted, heart pumping hikes. But the moon is a bit more than half past full, and I can see without my headlamp. Cross the empty river, and I'm into the wild. Camp is into the trees a bit, though, upon my waking, it was in sight of the trail. Set up goes well, I'm in bed by 10:40, and I'm off to sleep.
I wake up a few times every night, last night was no different. Its... a little less comfy on the ground than my bed, though the sleeping bag + blanket = toasty warm. Camp broke easily, my only concern being the moisture that may be problematic since I just packed it away.
Here I am at work. While it still feels a bit like a camping trip, I can now say my life of vagrancy has really begun.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The Final Hours
No lie... last night was tough. Somewhere around 8:00 pm I entered a strange mental place. Part of me just wanted to collapse, another part was buzzing. I guess it was equal parts anxiety and despair. In an effort to not be overdramatic, I should remind myself that moving is always stressful, and I'm not sure that this time was any more so.
A few times I muttered a resentful prayer, something like, "Hey God, where's that fortitude through grace that flows from intentionality and surrender?" A few bright ideas and ongoing goal setting (Alright, done with the kitchen by 9:30!) put my exhausted head on the pillow around 12:40 am, a little less than five hours before I needed to awake.
The morning had a groggy beginning, but I was honestly brightened by how little there was left to do. Traffic was smooth and my errand run. Now for the cleaning.
I washed the walls,
scrubbed the carpet,
dusted the molding,
vacuumed the floors,
bleached the tub,
and so on.
Maudi (my landlord) was there ten minutes before our noon meeting time, but as the good Lord would have it, I was done two minutes before he arrived. His inspection of the apartment mostly involved carefully inspecting the vertical blinds. They were all in order. I always liked Maudi, and today he is just as gentle as always. I'll get the security deposit in about a month, he says. Take out a bit for the painting, general cleaning, and carpet cleaning. Oh, and minus the seven days of January. I can leave the dressers if I want, but his moving guys will come out of my deposit as well. The washer and dryer? He will leave the door open for a buyer to pick them up. I can leave it if I want. No, he won't buy them.
Apart from some junk in the garage, I am out of my apartment.
It's kind of a weird feeling not having a place I "must" go tonight. As I drove around today in my play, errands, and campsite scouting, I would often realize that this was it. My car, or more abstractly, travel, is my new home.
Overall, I'm pretty up about the whole thing.
One issue does loom a bit, though.
The Cold.
A few times I muttered a resentful prayer, something like, "Hey God, where's that fortitude through grace that flows from intentionality and surrender?" A few bright ideas and ongoing goal setting (Alright, done with the kitchen by 9:30!) put my exhausted head on the pillow around 12:40 am, a little less than five hours before I needed to awake.
The morning had a groggy beginning, but I was honestly brightened by how little there was left to do. Traffic was smooth and my errand run. Now for the cleaning.
I washed the walls,
scrubbed the carpet,
dusted the molding,
vacuumed the floors,
bleached the tub,
and so on.
Maudi (my landlord) was there ten minutes before our noon meeting time, but as the good Lord would have it, I was done two minutes before he arrived. His inspection of the apartment mostly involved carefully inspecting the vertical blinds. They were all in order. I always liked Maudi, and today he is just as gentle as always. I'll get the security deposit in about a month, he says. Take out a bit for the painting, general cleaning, and carpet cleaning. Oh, and minus the seven days of January. I can leave the dressers if I want, but his moving guys will come out of my deposit as well. The washer and dryer? He will leave the door open for a buyer to pick them up. I can leave it if I want. No, he won't buy them.
Apart from some junk in the garage, I am out of my apartment.
It's kind of a weird feeling not having a place I "must" go tonight. As I drove around today in my play, errands, and campsite scouting, I would often realize that this was it. My car, or more abstractly, travel, is my new home.
Overall, I'm pretty up about the whole thing.
One issue does loom a bit, though.
The Cold.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Moving Out
I haven't written in a long time. If you are one for reasons, they are thusly:
1.) Been applying to PhD programs,
2.) Been in IL, MO, as well as family + Kristen been out here for holidays,
and,
3.) Been working on moving out.
Moving out.
Most of the time, when people move out from somewhere, they also, very subsequently, move in somewhere else. Now, both the guise of moving in with Mom, as well as her encouragement for me to actually live there, sometimes makes it feel like that is indeed where I am moving.
There are other times I am blown away by the void of it all. Even if I do stay at Mom's house from time to time (or even often)... that isn't where I live. In a sense, I am moving out of my apartment and moving to "out" as well. My new home is "The Out." It's kinda funny, for as much as I will be homeless, I will have more home than I had before.
Think about it. Yesterday I had a empty, overly large apartment. A relic of a bygone commitment. I ate, slept, worked, and cleaned alone. Its kind of like I rented my loneliness.
Tomorrow, my home is increased a hundred fold. The love of friends and family has been led to an outpouring of support. At least a dozen offers of a couch, bed, or a warm place to eat ranging from "When you need it," to "For no reason at all." And that's just the houses. My new home: God's creation. It's an odd bit of prophecy, the fact that I have always called those mountains my mountains. At first I thought perhaps I was destined to run over them. As fate would have it, rather, they are to be my home.
Home. That word is going to have a slippery definition in the days to come.
1.) Been applying to PhD programs,
2.) Been in IL, MO, as well as family + Kristen been out here for holidays,
and,
3.) Been working on moving out.
Moving out.
Most of the time, when people move out from somewhere, they also, very subsequently, move in somewhere else. Now, both the guise of moving in with Mom, as well as her encouragement for me to actually live there, sometimes makes it feel like that is indeed where I am moving.
There are other times I am blown away by the void of it all. Even if I do stay at Mom's house from time to time (or even often)... that isn't where I live. In a sense, I am moving out of my apartment and moving to "out" as well. My new home is "The Out." It's kinda funny, for as much as I will be homeless, I will have more home than I had before.
Think about it. Yesterday I had a empty, overly large apartment. A relic of a bygone commitment. I ate, slept, worked, and cleaned alone. Its kind of like I rented my loneliness.
Tomorrow, my home is increased a hundred fold. The love of friends and family has been led to an outpouring of support. At least a dozen offers of a couch, bed, or a warm place to eat ranging from "When you need it," to "For no reason at all." And that's just the houses. My new home: God's creation. It's an odd bit of prophecy, the fact that I have always called those mountains my mountains. At first I thought perhaps I was destined to run over them. As fate would have it, rather, they are to be my home.
Home. That word is going to have a slippery definition in the days to come.
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