love runs through the corridors of our lives
it fills the once empty spaces
with a kind of chaos of light and sound,
beautiful sound.
there is no substance to love
yet it saturates us, fills us,
makes us more than whole.
and when love is gone the hallways echo
echo away
the background radiation does not decay
completely
it remains as the memorial reminder
of what once was there
but is there no more
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Sunday, July 03, 2005
40. lessons from the road...thoughts on community
Wow, I'm on my last full day with my band, on "tour" in LA. We've been here on the West Coast for about one week now and it's been an intense experience.
I'm generally a solitary person. I like to keep to myself. If I'm not cruising somewhere by myself, I like to hang with just a few good friends rather than being in a big, crowded place. Meeting new people stresses me out and this trip has been nothing but meeting new people. We've been staying at band members' family/friends' houses/apartments on this trip and so in addition to meeting new people, I've had to live with them as well...which is stress on top of stress because I don't dig staying in other people's homes. (Staying at the Clone-Twins apartment was an exception...that was supah cool, thanks guys.)
On top of this, whenever we've played shows, we've gotten to meet lots of new people. Playing in the mainland has been a trip in that the crowd response has been totally different from Hawaii. People just come up to you after the show (even while you're trying to pack up) and start pelting you with questions and comments. We've also been selling CDs at our shows and we've been selling out! As we speak, I'm furiously burning new copies. Again, new people equals stress for me so selling CDs and having people ask me to autograph them is cool but at the same time, not my favorite thing in the world.
I've lived at home all my life. I've got really cool parents. We're not close by any means but they give me a lot of freedom and they've always supported me in whatever I've put my hands to. I know we're going to be moving to Cali sometime next year and as much as I've learned about myself on this trip, I know I'll have to learn so much more then but over all, it's been a good thing.
Donald Miller, Lauren F. Winner, and other postmodern Christian writers have said that living as part of a community (not just a family, but as a part of a larger social structure including but not limited to the church) is an essential part of what it is to be a human being. This is something that we've lost today.
Even as the internet connects people, it also isolates them. The ease of e-mail makes communication effortless but something is lost when pen and paper fail to meet (I almost miss the process of deciphering difficult handwriting...almost). We try to make up for this by using ALL CAPS and italics but not being able to see someone's handwriting is just one more level of depersonalization between you and the other. And these blogs. What is it about writing what basically amounts to a public diary that's so attractive? How is it that as we're winning the battle for privacy and personal space we're posting our personal thoughts and struggles where everyone can see?
If God has indeed created us in such a way that we require community, then despite our efforts to live otherwise, we will find a way to fulfill that requirement...even as we struggle against it. I think of the movie, Jurassic Park. The scientists designed the dinosaurs on the island to need a certain kind of hormone or chemical to survive - the thought being that if the dinosaurs found a way to escape the island, they would not be out for long. I can't remember if this was in the movie version but I remember in the book by Michael Crichton, escaped dinosaurs start feeding on a certain kind of plant that allows them to get the chemical/hormone they need.
"Life will find a way," was one of the ideas of the book. In this case, you could say that, "design will find a way." In other words, the way that we've been designed by God will manifest itself regardless of our efforts to reverse engineer and modify it. As we draw in our social circles closer and closer to ourselves, we find new ways to connect. I mean, geeze, you're reading this blog on an on-line social networking website! How many people do you know who've been bitten by the MySpace bug and need their daily fix?
In the end, once I move up to the mainland with my band and live with them I'm hoping that living in such close contact to other people (a mini-community) will make me more whole of a person. Maybe this is what I've been missing all these years. I don't know, I'll just have to wait and see.
I'm generally a solitary person. I like to keep to myself. If I'm not cruising somewhere by myself, I like to hang with just a few good friends rather than being in a big, crowded place. Meeting new people stresses me out and this trip has been nothing but meeting new people. We've been staying at band members' family/friends' houses/apartments on this trip and so in addition to meeting new people, I've had to live with them as well...which is stress on top of stress because I don't dig staying in other people's homes. (Staying at the Clone-Twins apartment was an exception...that was supah cool, thanks guys.)
On top of this, whenever we've played shows, we've gotten to meet lots of new people. Playing in the mainland has been a trip in that the crowd response has been totally different from Hawaii. People just come up to you after the show (even while you're trying to pack up) and start pelting you with questions and comments. We've also been selling CDs at our shows and we've been selling out! As we speak, I'm furiously burning new copies. Again, new people equals stress for me so selling CDs and having people ask me to autograph them is cool but at the same time, not my favorite thing in the world.
I've lived at home all my life. I've got really cool parents. We're not close by any means but they give me a lot of freedom and they've always supported me in whatever I've put my hands to. I know we're going to be moving to Cali sometime next year and as much as I've learned about myself on this trip, I know I'll have to learn so much more then but over all, it's been a good thing.
Donald Miller, Lauren F. Winner, and other postmodern Christian writers have said that living as part of a community (not just a family, but as a part of a larger social structure including but not limited to the church) is an essential part of what it is to be a human being. This is something that we've lost today.
Even as the internet connects people, it also isolates them. The ease of e-mail makes communication effortless but something is lost when pen and paper fail to meet (I almost miss the process of deciphering difficult handwriting...almost). We try to make up for this by using ALL CAPS and italics but not being able to see someone's handwriting is just one more level of depersonalization between you and the other. And these blogs. What is it about writing what basically amounts to a public diary that's so attractive? How is it that as we're winning the battle for privacy and personal space we're posting our personal thoughts and struggles where everyone can see?
If God has indeed created us in such a way that we require community, then despite our efforts to live otherwise, we will find a way to fulfill that requirement...even as we struggle against it. I think of the movie, Jurassic Park. The scientists designed the dinosaurs on the island to need a certain kind of hormone or chemical to survive - the thought being that if the dinosaurs found a way to escape the island, they would not be out for long. I can't remember if this was in the movie version but I remember in the book by Michael Crichton, escaped dinosaurs start feeding on a certain kind of plant that allows them to get the chemical/hormone they need.
"Life will find a way," was one of the ideas of the book. In this case, you could say that, "design will find a way." In other words, the way that we've been designed by God will manifest itself regardless of our efforts to reverse engineer and modify it. As we draw in our social circles closer and closer to ourselves, we find new ways to connect. I mean, geeze, you're reading this blog on an on-line social networking website! How many people do you know who've been bitten by the MySpace bug and need their daily fix?
In the end, once I move up to the mainland with my band and live with them I'm hoping that living in such close contact to other people (a mini-community) will make me more whole of a person. Maybe this is what I've been missing all these years. I don't know, I'll just have to wait and see.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
39. dealing with Haight
So I'm hanging in the (in)famous Haight Ashbury section of San Francisco...and I don't know why or what it was but I had this tremendous feeling of inadequacy - as if while I was there I was only three feet tall (rather than my towering 5'5").
I think partly it had to do with the variety of people who were there (if you've ever been, you know what a cast of characters you'll find there). But it wasn't just that. It was also how sure they seemed of themselves. They all seemed to have this invisible shield around them that protected them from the brutally prejudiced eye of society and because they had that protection, they were free to be who/whatever they wanted to be. I felt I lacked this force field and so I felt a kind of nakedness.
Now I know that as a child of Christ, I am to put on the armor of God which protects me from slings and arrows and such, but what about these people? I don't mean to judge but judging (oops) from the buttons, shirts, posters, graffiti, and bumper stickers that abounded, I'd say that most of the people there weren't Christians. Where do they get their armor, their confidence, their freedom to express themselves in such counter-cultural ways?
In part, I suppose it has to do with the fact that they're all counter-culturing together and so there's a kind of strength-in-numbers voodoo happening. I mean wearing a hyper-conservative suit or an anti Che Guevara shirt would be just as counter to their culture as them wearing their patches, tatoos, and piericings in the heart of San Fran's business district.
But it's not just that. Take the Suit in the Haight-Ashbury section guy. He's probably going to feel uncomfortable in that setting because he's not used to dealing with being dressed out of his element - in the world he's familiar with, everyone dresses as he does and to a certain extent, he builds his wardrobe around the unspoken assumptions of those around him. All that to say that he dresses to fit in.
In contrast, the H/A guy dresses in such a way that he will NOT fit in. I mean, in their own element, they all kind of blend together and fit in but because they dress in such a way that they expect to be disliked and disrespected, put them in the heart of the aforementioned business district and they're not uncomfortable with being out of place. Instead, they get a kind of affirmation of the style choices they've made precisely through that reaction. They want to make a statement by the way they dress and so disdain is a kind of affirmation of their style choices.
So then, the Suit dresses to fit in and so is uncomfortable when he stands out. On the other hand, the H/A guy dresses so as to not fit in and so rejection is the very reaction he wants. And in the end, maybe the reason I felt uncomfortable/naked/vulnerable there was because being around a bunch of very counter-cultural people made me question my own personality via style choices (because as much as we want to say/believe it doesn't matter, that we don't think about it, it DOES matter). I mean, how much of who I am is just a product of living primarily in polite society and how much of it is really who I am.
I suppose to a degree, the two are inextricable. Tony Campolo tells a story where a student came into his office. He said that he wanted to move away and camp out alone (a la Thoreau's Walden) to strip away all of the layers that society's expectations had deposited upon him.
Campolo countered with the onion analogy. Take an onion, he explained, and one by one, peel away the layers. Remove one and you'll find one underneath. Remove that one and there's another. Keep going, layer by layer. Do you know what you'll find in the center, he asked? Nothing. An onion is a product of its layers. In the same way, outside/environmental forces are a necessary part of who we are. "No man is an island," wrote John Donne, "entire of itself / every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main..."
It's kind of like the nature/nuture debate (do our genes determine who we are or are we a product of our upbringing). People argue for one side or another but (as with most things) the truth is somewhere in the middle. Who we are is a product of BOTH how we were raised and what we were born with.
I'm not sure where all of this leaves me in regards to how I was feeling in the Haight/Ashbury district. I feel like I've circled around and grabbed by own rhetorical tail...but I feel better. Writing does that for me.
Can't wait to see what the rest of the Harrison tour has in store for me.
I think partly it had to do with the variety of people who were there (if you've ever been, you know what a cast of characters you'll find there). But it wasn't just that. It was also how sure they seemed of themselves. They all seemed to have this invisible shield around them that protected them from the brutally prejudiced eye of society and because they had that protection, they were free to be who/whatever they wanted to be. I felt I lacked this force field and so I felt a kind of nakedness.
Now I know that as a child of Christ, I am to put on the armor of God which protects me from slings and arrows and such, but what about these people? I don't mean to judge but judging (oops) from the buttons, shirts, posters, graffiti, and bumper stickers that abounded, I'd say that most of the people there weren't Christians. Where do they get their armor, their confidence, their freedom to express themselves in such counter-cultural ways?
In part, I suppose it has to do with the fact that they're all counter-culturing together and so there's a kind of strength-in-numbers voodoo happening. I mean wearing a hyper-conservative suit or an anti Che Guevara shirt would be just as counter to their culture as them wearing their patches, tatoos, and piericings in the heart of San Fran's business district.
But it's not just that. Take the Suit in the Haight-Ashbury section guy. He's probably going to feel uncomfortable in that setting because he's not used to dealing with being dressed out of his element - in the world he's familiar with, everyone dresses as he does and to a certain extent, he builds his wardrobe around the unspoken assumptions of those around him. All that to say that he dresses to fit in.
In contrast, the H/A guy dresses in such a way that he will NOT fit in. I mean, in their own element, they all kind of blend together and fit in but because they dress in such a way that they expect to be disliked and disrespected, put them in the heart of the aforementioned business district and they're not uncomfortable with being out of place. Instead, they get a kind of affirmation of the style choices they've made precisely through that reaction. They want to make a statement by the way they dress and so disdain is a kind of affirmation of their style choices.
So then, the Suit dresses to fit in and so is uncomfortable when he stands out. On the other hand, the H/A guy dresses so as to not fit in and so rejection is the very reaction he wants. And in the end, maybe the reason I felt uncomfortable/naked/vulnerable there was because being around a bunch of very counter-cultural people made me question my own personality via style choices (because as much as we want to say/believe it doesn't matter, that we don't think about it, it DOES matter). I mean, how much of who I am is just a product of living primarily in polite society and how much of it is really who I am.
I suppose to a degree, the two are inextricable. Tony Campolo tells a story where a student came into his office. He said that he wanted to move away and camp out alone (a la Thoreau's Walden) to strip away all of the layers that society's expectations had deposited upon him.
Campolo countered with the onion analogy. Take an onion, he explained, and one by one, peel away the layers. Remove one and you'll find one underneath. Remove that one and there's another. Keep going, layer by layer. Do you know what you'll find in the center, he asked? Nothing. An onion is a product of its layers. In the same way, outside/environmental forces are a necessary part of who we are. "No man is an island," wrote John Donne, "entire of itself / every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main..."
It's kind of like the nature/nuture debate (do our genes determine who we are or are we a product of our upbringing). People argue for one side or another but (as with most things) the truth is somewhere in the middle. Who we are is a product of BOTH how we were raised and what we were born with.
I'm not sure where all of this leaves me in regards to how I was feeling in the Haight/Ashbury district. I feel like I've circled around and grabbed by own rhetorical tail...but I feel better. Writing does that for me.
Can't wait to see what the rest of the Harrison tour has in store for me.
Monday, June 20, 2005
37. shedding the body condom
Here's what happened to me last week:
Monday morning, find my right rear tire almost completely flat. Pump it up again.
Tuesday morning, find my right rear tire almost flat again - I have a slow leak that must be looked at. Tuesday night my antenna breaks off my cell phone (for like the third time).
Wednesday, plagued by poor cell phone reception. Wednesday night my car gets broken into. Now this isn't like picking or pulling the lock kind of break in, this is the kind of break in where they smash the passenger side window out. If it weren't for the shards of leftover glass around the edges, it looks like I forgot to roll my windows back up. Luckily nothing was stolen. Still having tire problems.
Thursday morning, realize that something was stolen - my backpack - but there was nothing but paperwork from work in there. Thursday, early afternoon, realize that my checkbook was in there and that I need to get to the bank and close out the account before someone starts furnishing their living room, so I borrow my mother's car to run some erands. Thursday late afternoon, find out it's going to cost $170 to fix my window. Then mom's car overheats so that I have to pull on the side of the road. Because of poor cell phone reception I can't call anyone to come and help. I just have to sit and wait for the engine to cool off and pray that I can make it back home without a meltdown (I do).
Friday, got my window fixed but still having tire problems. Can't go to Firestone to get it fixed until Sunday. Cell phone reception still sub-par.
Sunday, something happens (can't go into detail...involves friends and assumptions on my part) that really knocks me off balance, mentally and emotionally. Well, at least I got my tire problem taken care of...and w/o charge (thanks, Firestone).
Fuck, it's like I just can't get a break. I mean the whole trying-to-think-positive thing was working up until Sunday, despite all the crap that happened this week. But I can only take so much and it's like on Sunday, I reached the tipping point. And I'm scared shitless because I recognize the state it put me in - it's the very state that I want to leave behind. I'm feeling the old bullshit paranoia - where I get to thinking that I'm a bad-luck magnet, that the twin moons that orbit my heart are named despair and frustration.
Life isn't making it very easy, but I have to remember my new credo: optimism as a revolutionary concept.
Optimism truly is a revolutionary, subversive thing. There's so much bullshit and cynicism and apathy out there - it's like this thick, invisible fog that we're saturated with. We breathe it in, it seeps in through our pores, it coats and clings to us like a slimy latex body condom. It's getting to the point where seeing a genuine smile is like spotting the real Elvis (amid the many impersonators). The pessimistic view of life is an assumption. A genuinely positive outlook (not a blindly sunny or naive one) is a shiny, pastel colored middle finger in the face of all the nastiness out there.
You know what? Here's one theory of why so many bad things happened this week. "Everyone has their own personal velocity," writes Rebecca Miller. And it's true. We all live life with certain assumptions and habits and comfort zones. Our lifestyle becomes a kind of vector by which our choices (and by extension, our future) can be predicted. It also develops a kind of wake around us that affects the things that surround us. Draw your hand through a still pool and you create a current. In the same way, our personal velocity exerts a pull on the life around us. Any change in direction will initially disrupt this flow.
I've made a decision to think more positively about life and this change grates against the momentum that all my years of negative thinking had developed. It's no wonder that I'm running head on into these disturbances. I need to push past this initial resistance, put my head down and power through.
The world defaults to negativity and I'm issuing an open challenge to that assumption. It's not easy but I must continue. I'm tired of thinking like everybody else. I'm tired of wallowing in the mud. There's lots of fresh air and freedom to be found above the fog - I've just got to keep flapping my wings, flailing away while I pray for updrafts.
And the sky's not the limit, it's the only the beginning.
Monday morning, find my right rear tire almost completely flat. Pump it up again.
Tuesday morning, find my right rear tire almost flat again - I have a slow leak that must be looked at. Tuesday night my antenna breaks off my cell phone (for like the third time).
Wednesday, plagued by poor cell phone reception. Wednesday night my car gets broken into. Now this isn't like picking or pulling the lock kind of break in, this is the kind of break in where they smash the passenger side window out. If it weren't for the shards of leftover glass around the edges, it looks like I forgot to roll my windows back up. Luckily nothing was stolen. Still having tire problems.
Thursday morning, realize that something was stolen - my backpack - but there was nothing but paperwork from work in there. Thursday, early afternoon, realize that my checkbook was in there and that I need to get to the bank and close out the account before someone starts furnishing their living room, so I borrow my mother's car to run some erands. Thursday late afternoon, find out it's going to cost $170 to fix my window. Then mom's car overheats so that I have to pull on the side of the road. Because of poor cell phone reception I can't call anyone to come and help. I just have to sit and wait for the engine to cool off and pray that I can make it back home without a meltdown (I do).
Friday, got my window fixed but still having tire problems. Can't go to Firestone to get it fixed until Sunday. Cell phone reception still sub-par.
Sunday, something happens (can't go into detail...involves friends and assumptions on my part) that really knocks me off balance, mentally and emotionally. Well, at least I got my tire problem taken care of...and w/o charge (thanks, Firestone).
Fuck, it's like I just can't get a break. I mean the whole trying-to-think-positive thing was working up until Sunday, despite all the crap that happened this week. But I can only take so much and it's like on Sunday, I reached the tipping point. And I'm scared shitless because I recognize the state it put me in - it's the very state that I want to leave behind. I'm feeling the old bullshit paranoia - where I get to thinking that I'm a bad-luck magnet, that the twin moons that orbit my heart are named despair and frustration.
Life isn't making it very easy, but I have to remember my new credo: optimism as a revolutionary concept.
Optimism truly is a revolutionary, subversive thing. There's so much bullshit and cynicism and apathy out there - it's like this thick, invisible fog that we're saturated with. We breathe it in, it seeps in through our pores, it coats and clings to us like a slimy latex body condom. It's getting to the point where seeing a genuine smile is like spotting the real Elvis (amid the many impersonators). The pessimistic view of life is an assumption. A genuinely positive outlook (not a blindly sunny or naive one) is a shiny, pastel colored middle finger in the face of all the nastiness out there.
You know what? Here's one theory of why so many bad things happened this week. "Everyone has their own personal velocity," writes Rebecca Miller. And it's true. We all live life with certain assumptions and habits and comfort zones. Our lifestyle becomes a kind of vector by which our choices (and by extension, our future) can be predicted. It also develops a kind of wake around us that affects the things that surround us. Draw your hand through a still pool and you create a current. In the same way, our personal velocity exerts a pull on the life around us. Any change in direction will initially disrupt this flow.
I've made a decision to think more positively about life and this change grates against the momentum that all my years of negative thinking had developed. It's no wonder that I'm running head on into these disturbances. I need to push past this initial resistance, put my head down and power through.
The world defaults to negativity and I'm issuing an open challenge to that assumption. It's not easy but I must continue. I'm tired of thinking like everybody else. I'm tired of wallowing in the mud. There's lots of fresh air and freedom to be found above the fog - I've just got to keep flapping my wings, flailing away while I pray for updrafts.
And the sky's not the limit, it's the only the beginning.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
36. the arc or change (part 2)...aka Cusack vs Giamatti
Current mood: rejuvenated
Victimhood. Everybody's a victim. I used to look down on people who pointed to problems in their youth as an excuse for their present inability to play well with society. And then I realized that I had been doing the same thing in my own life. Instead of using past problems as an excuse for behaving badly towards others, I used it as an excuse to beat myself up.
Here's an example. I've had very (make that VERY) bad luck when it comes to women. More accurately, I had very bad luck with one woman in particular (long, ugly story...I think I may have touched upon it in one of my older blogs). That episode (along with something else that happened at the same time...but she was the worse of the two) affected me so deeply that it became a kind of turning point. Before the Episode, life was wide open and the possibilities were endless. After the Episode, life was a closed circle with the cool, happy people on the inside and the sad, lonely losers on the outside. And I wasn't inside.
From then on, bad luck with women was a given. I accepted the thought that for whatever reason, I was chronically unappealing to women. I thought that perhaps through some genetic defect, instead of releasing come-hither pheromones when attracted to a female, my body released a subtle, toxic go-yonder scent that made it impossible to hold the attention of anyone I was remotely attracted to.
It sounds silly but I was convinced that I was doomed with women I was attracted to. I mean, there have been women who I knew liked me so I know I gots skills, but I just didn't feel the same way in return. I just thought I didn't have a chance with women I wanted to have a chance with. In my mind, Randall-attracted-to equalled Randall-doomed-with.
Here's how stupid I became. Let's say there's this woman...let's call her Kim. Kim and I got to hang out in social settings. She seems to be really smart, funny, and cool. Maybe she even has short hair and glasses (big points in my book). We seem to get along and so later in the week I start thinking maybe I should call Kim and ask her out. The instant that synapse fires, it triggers another one called the synapse of pain and humiliation. Once that happens, any chance I thought I might have had becomes overrun by predictions of doom and gloom of the worst sort. I mean I was so mental that in my head, I'd actually go through a scenario where Kim and I start going out, things work out well at first but eventually we discover an impossible to overcome conflict and we break up in the cruelest way possible...so I change my mind and don't call her.
All this because I haven't been able to free myself from being the victim of one bad relationship. Writing it now, it seems as retarted as it must read but at the time it made more sense to me than peanutbutter jelly = sandwich.
A few weeks ago I saw the movie, Unleashed, starring Jet Li. Li plays a character who, from a very young age, has been trained to kill at the whim of his mob boss master. He's a human attack dog and his master treats him that way, keeping him shelved away in a cage under the floor of his office.
Li gets away and after meeting up with a blind piano tuner and his daugher who take him into their home, he learns humanity, acceptance and the value of home - all without the benefit of therapy or psychotropic drugs, just love.
I can't remember what line or situation in the movie did it for me but I realized something that showed me how wrong-minded I'd been about hypothetical Kim and I. I realized that for the most part, past has nothing to do with the present - at least it didn't in my case. Mistakes and mishaps are meant to teach us lessons, not to serve as a template for the future.
I wrote mainly about relationships but the same holds true for other areas in my life. In so many cases, I used one bad episode after another to define the outcome of all future situations and so I shut down the dream machine, parked it in the basement of my mind and walked away because what use are dreams that will never come true?
No more. Every day, the sun rises on a new day. God designed it like this because he wants to drill into us the idea that as soon as we're ready we can pick our sorry selves off our ass and get back at living the life extraordinary.
However, patters once ingrained do not release their grip so readily. I still catch myself responding with the familiar (and comfortable) pessimism. It's a habit and a crutch but I've begun the hard work of weaning myself. It takes discipline (catching myself every time) but it's kind of fun. I mean it's so much nicer trying to stive towards hope than to wallow in self-pity.
One of my favorite movies is Say Anything (John Cusack and Ione Skye). I was listening to the director and cast commentary and they talked about how they wanted the main character, Lloyd Dobler, to be someone who embrased optimism as a revolutionary concept. I love that idea. There's so much bullshit and negativity in this world that optimism CAN be a kind of act of defiance.
Funny side note. I told a friend of mine that I used to want to be Lloyd Dobler when I grew up. He commented that I reminded him more of the Paul Giamatti character from Sideways. I had to laugh because it was true. Well I say from now on, fuck that. Giamatti's character was a whiny, pushover bitch. Once again, I want to be Lloyd Dobler when I grow up (and I'm 33 so I'd better get to it).
Victimhood. Everybody's a victim. I used to look down on people who pointed to problems in their youth as an excuse for their present inability to play well with society. And then I realized that I had been doing the same thing in my own life. Instead of using past problems as an excuse for behaving badly towards others, I used it as an excuse to beat myself up.
Here's an example. I've had very (make that VERY) bad luck when it comes to women. More accurately, I had very bad luck with one woman in particular (long, ugly story...I think I may have touched upon it in one of my older blogs). That episode (along with something else that happened at the same time...but she was the worse of the two) affected me so deeply that it became a kind of turning point. Before the Episode, life was wide open and the possibilities were endless. After the Episode, life was a closed circle with the cool, happy people on the inside and the sad, lonely losers on the outside. And I wasn't inside.
From then on, bad luck with women was a given. I accepted the thought that for whatever reason, I was chronically unappealing to women. I thought that perhaps through some genetic defect, instead of releasing come-hither pheromones when attracted to a female, my body released a subtle, toxic go-yonder scent that made it impossible to hold the attention of anyone I was remotely attracted to.
It sounds silly but I was convinced that I was doomed with women I was attracted to. I mean, there have been women who I knew liked me so I know I gots skills, but I just didn't feel the same way in return. I just thought I didn't have a chance with women I wanted to have a chance with. In my mind, Randall-attracted-to equalled Randall-doomed-with.
Here's how stupid I became. Let's say there's this woman...let's call her Kim. Kim and I got to hang out in social settings. She seems to be really smart, funny, and cool. Maybe she even has short hair and glasses (big points in my book). We seem to get along and so later in the week I start thinking maybe I should call Kim and ask her out. The instant that synapse fires, it triggers another one called the synapse of pain and humiliation. Once that happens, any chance I thought I might have had becomes overrun by predictions of doom and gloom of the worst sort. I mean I was so mental that in my head, I'd actually go through a scenario where Kim and I start going out, things work out well at first but eventually we discover an impossible to overcome conflict and we break up in the cruelest way possible...so I change my mind and don't call her.
All this because I haven't been able to free myself from being the victim of one bad relationship. Writing it now, it seems as retarted as it must read but at the time it made more sense to me than peanutbutter jelly = sandwich.
A few weeks ago I saw the movie, Unleashed, starring Jet Li. Li plays a character who, from a very young age, has been trained to kill at the whim of his mob boss master. He's a human attack dog and his master treats him that way, keeping him shelved away in a cage under the floor of his office.
Li gets away and after meeting up with a blind piano tuner and his daugher who take him into their home, he learns humanity, acceptance and the value of home - all without the benefit of therapy or psychotropic drugs, just love.
I can't remember what line or situation in the movie did it for me but I realized something that showed me how wrong-minded I'd been about hypothetical Kim and I. I realized that for the most part, past has nothing to do with the present - at least it didn't in my case. Mistakes and mishaps are meant to teach us lessons, not to serve as a template for the future.
I wrote mainly about relationships but the same holds true for other areas in my life. In so many cases, I used one bad episode after another to define the outcome of all future situations and so I shut down the dream machine, parked it in the basement of my mind and walked away because what use are dreams that will never come true?
No more. Every day, the sun rises on a new day. God designed it like this because he wants to drill into us the idea that as soon as we're ready we can pick our sorry selves off our ass and get back at living the life extraordinary.
However, patters once ingrained do not release their grip so readily. I still catch myself responding with the familiar (and comfortable) pessimism. It's a habit and a crutch but I've begun the hard work of weaning myself. It takes discipline (catching myself every time) but it's kind of fun. I mean it's so much nicer trying to stive towards hope than to wallow in self-pity.
One of my favorite movies is Say Anything (John Cusack and Ione Skye). I was listening to the director and cast commentary and they talked about how they wanted the main character, Lloyd Dobler, to be someone who embrased optimism as a revolutionary concept. I love that idea. There's so much bullshit and negativity in this world that optimism CAN be a kind of act of defiance.
Funny side note. I told a friend of mine that I used to want to be Lloyd Dobler when I grew up. He commented that I reminded him more of the Paul Giamatti character from Sideways. I had to laugh because it was true. Well I say from now on, fuck that. Giamatti's character was a whiny, pushover bitch. Once again, I want to be Lloyd Dobler when I grow up (and I'm 33 so I'd better get to it).
Monday, June 06, 2005
35. ...throwing around an idea...(fiction, sort of)
He realizes that he's been going through life with the wrong lenses on. But he's an analyical sort so rather than just blindly disbarking towards a new view of life, he begins formulating a kind of calcus of life. Unfortunately, he's never been very good at math.
He calls it a calcus of life because he wants a kind of formula for how to take in and analyze life. He uses the word calcus because he knows that any system that attemps to encapsulate life will be more complex than algebra or geometry (the extent of his math education). He knows nothing about calculus except that it's hard and it's a language spoken with geeky-cool looking symbols.
He knows that there are different ways of looking at life. Some take on life with an unswerving optimism or pessimism, but for him, that's not enough. Seeing life that way is just packaging - a bright wrapper or a dark one. Not enough.
Some think that the universe conforms itself to their perception of it. This is a tempting way to think about life and to a degree it's true. All we do as individuals is take in the world and the conclusions we draw from that input becomes our reality. It's not a great leap to think that you could reverse the process - begin with a version of reality that you want to see and believe in that vision so powerfully that it influences, bends, compells the universe to confirm to it.
But he doesn't buy this. Not after he read the story of Rachel, the author who wrote and spoke about just such universe altering ways of thinking. All her powers of thought could not change the reality of the hungry, sweaty, animal of a man forcing himself upon her after breaking into her home.
---BREAK---
This is just an idea I'm throwing around. I know it has something to do with this new outlook on life that I'm formulating. Like the character I was writing about, I know it's something new, something made up of bits and pieces of the ways I used to try to order the world but put back together as a kind of composite, a matrix where the individual elements are interactive.
It's very unfocused, unformed, random. I'm going to use any kind of writing I can to try to figure it out. There may be some odd blogs (and some mundane ones) still to come.
He calls it a calcus of life because he wants a kind of formula for how to take in and analyze life. He uses the word calcus because he knows that any system that attemps to encapsulate life will be more complex than algebra or geometry (the extent of his math education). He knows nothing about calculus except that it's hard and it's a language spoken with geeky-cool looking symbols.
He knows that there are different ways of looking at life. Some take on life with an unswerving optimism or pessimism, but for him, that's not enough. Seeing life that way is just packaging - a bright wrapper or a dark one. Not enough.
Some think that the universe conforms itself to their perception of it. This is a tempting way to think about life and to a degree it's true. All we do as individuals is take in the world and the conclusions we draw from that input becomes our reality. It's not a great leap to think that you could reverse the process - begin with a version of reality that you want to see and believe in that vision so powerfully that it influences, bends, compells the universe to confirm to it.
But he doesn't buy this. Not after he read the story of Rachel, the author who wrote and spoke about just such universe altering ways of thinking. All her powers of thought could not change the reality of the hungry, sweaty, animal of a man forcing himself upon her after breaking into her home.
---BREAK---
This is just an idea I'm throwing around. I know it has something to do with this new outlook on life that I'm formulating. Like the character I was writing about, I know it's something new, something made up of bits and pieces of the ways I used to try to order the world but put back together as a kind of composite, a matrix where the individual elements are interactive.
It's very unfocused, unformed, random. I'm going to use any kind of writing I can to try to figure it out. There may be some odd blogs (and some mundane ones) still to come.
34. the arc of change - part 1
I was going to title this entry "the turning point," but I realized that there's no such thing. Changes in life generally follow an arc, not a point. There may be pivotal points along this arc or a focal point around which the arc circles but the process of change is a continuum, gradually moving from one direction towards another.
I feel like my life has begun to bend, bending towards a more positive direction. See, I've been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, it's all been kind of simmering in my mind and finally, some clarity and understanding is emerging.
Put in the simplest terms, I've been wrong about a couple of key things and I want to make things right...because being wrong about these things has led me to a pretty dreary place in life. All my blogs lately have been rants of frustration and loneliness and I'm tired of it. I've been thinking about how I ended up there and I guess that's why I haven't been writing much lately.
Anyway, the first thing I was wrong about was God. I don't think I ever admitted it even to myself but if I followed the logical progression of my thoughts on God, I would have to admit that I believed that God was working against me - that the opposite of Jeremiah 29:11 ("For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future") was in effect. Randall's translation of that verse read something like, "...plans to harm you and not to prosper you, plans to rob you of hope and your future." Although I would not admit it (not even to myself), I lived with the assumption that God was working to make my life miserable and every setback, every disapointment served as confirmation of this belief.
I guess I ended up thinking this way because I was taught (or at least this is the thought I took from church which isn't exactly the same thing) in church that God was this sugardaddy, raining bling from the sky down to his faithful followers whom he loves. I kept waiting for my windfall and when it never came I slowly (the arc, remember?) came to the conclusion that God had no blessings for me and therefore God didn't love me and was working against me. Actually, I never really believed that God didn't love me, it was more like I believed that out of all God's children, I just wasn't one of the favored ones - I had to settle for leftovers and hand-me-downs - I identified with the faithful son and his frustrations more than the prodigal one.
So a couple weeks ago, it finally hits me. The understanding that I had of God was not the God that's described in the Bible (unfortunately lots of churches have that same problem but I'll save that for another time - see _Searching For God Knows What_ by Donald Miller). At this point I figured I only had two choices. Either my view of God was wrong or the Bible was wrong. With the weight of history and divinity against me, I folded.
But this is only the beginning of the arc. On the other side of the curve is a thriving, vibrant faith that fills my life with joy and light. On this side of the arc is a lot of chaos and uncertainty. I realize that I've been building a warped view of God - the model doesn't work and I've got to start dismantling it, finding the good bits, discarding the bad. It's going to be a lot of work but I'm betting that God wants to be known even more than I want to know him. "For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened." (Luke 11:10) God will help me build an understanding that confirms to his reality. In contrast, my screwed up version of God took YEARS to develop because it was contrary to what God wanted me to believe.
Well, so ends part one. I was going to try to fit everything into one entry but this is WAY too long already. Stay tuned for part two - there's lots more Randall-was-oh-so-wrong still to come.
I feel like my life has begun to bend, bending towards a more positive direction. See, I've been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, it's all been kind of simmering in my mind and finally, some clarity and understanding is emerging.
Put in the simplest terms, I've been wrong about a couple of key things and I want to make things right...because being wrong about these things has led me to a pretty dreary place in life. All my blogs lately have been rants of frustration and loneliness and I'm tired of it. I've been thinking about how I ended up there and I guess that's why I haven't been writing much lately.
Anyway, the first thing I was wrong about was God. I don't think I ever admitted it even to myself but if I followed the logical progression of my thoughts on God, I would have to admit that I believed that God was working against me - that the opposite of Jeremiah 29:11 ("For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future") was in effect. Randall's translation of that verse read something like, "...plans to harm you and not to prosper you, plans to rob you of hope and your future." Although I would not admit it (not even to myself), I lived with the assumption that God was working to make my life miserable and every setback, every disapointment served as confirmation of this belief.
I guess I ended up thinking this way because I was taught (or at least this is the thought I took from church which isn't exactly the same thing) in church that God was this sugardaddy, raining bling from the sky down to his faithful followers whom he loves. I kept waiting for my windfall and when it never came I slowly (the arc, remember?) came to the conclusion that God had no blessings for me and therefore God didn't love me and was working against me. Actually, I never really believed that God didn't love me, it was more like I believed that out of all God's children, I just wasn't one of the favored ones - I had to settle for leftovers and hand-me-downs - I identified with the faithful son and his frustrations more than the prodigal one.
So a couple weeks ago, it finally hits me. The understanding that I had of God was not the God that's described in the Bible (unfortunately lots of churches have that same problem but I'll save that for another time - see _Searching For God Knows What_ by Donald Miller). At this point I figured I only had two choices. Either my view of God was wrong or the Bible was wrong. With the weight of history and divinity against me, I folded.
But this is only the beginning of the arc. On the other side of the curve is a thriving, vibrant faith that fills my life with joy and light. On this side of the arc is a lot of chaos and uncertainty. I realize that I've been building a warped view of God - the model doesn't work and I've got to start dismantling it, finding the good bits, discarding the bad. It's going to be a lot of work but I'm betting that God wants to be known even more than I want to know him. "For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened." (Luke 11:10) God will help me build an understanding that confirms to his reality. In contrast, my screwed up version of God took YEARS to develop because it was contrary to what God wanted me to believe.
Well, so ends part one. I was going to try to fit everything into one entry but this is WAY too long already. Stay tuned for part two - there's lots more Randall-was-oh-so-wrong still to come.
Friday, April 29, 2005
33. cry
...so I'm reading Anne Lamott's excellent book, _Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith_ and I get to the section where she's talking about the death of her pet dog. Now I know the fact that I only had about three hours sleep in the last 24hrs (not counting the times I caught myself sleeping at work) is partly to blame, but not entirely. Like I said, I'm reading Lamott go on about the day her beloved dog died and...I can't explain it but after a while it's like I can't even read because I'm tearing up so bad.
And then it happens. I close the book and I let it all out. I cry. It's one of those cries from deep inside that you squeeze at like a zit, trying to force all the shit out. What was I crying about?
Everything, I guess. Geeze, this could get long. Let me put it this way. All the things I write about here, they're just a shadow cast by the hulking mass of my loneliness and frustration. This stinking mass. It's like a backpack. It weighs me down but because it's out of sight, I just ignore it, make myself believe that it's weight is normal, nothing to be worried about, nothing to deal with.
But the truth is, it weighs on me everyday. Some days I am strong and I don't mind, I hardly notice it at all. Somedays I'm weaker and my shoulders ache. Then sometimes I just don't have any strength at all. I buckle under and cry because this burden is a muthafucker and I don't deserve it.
Sometimes crying can make you free. Sometimes it's like sucking the venom out of a snakebite. But sometimes, it's just crying and you wipe the tears away and move on. That's the crying spell I had.
Still, it felt good, if only because it reminded me that there is still a soft, warm heart deep down inside. It cowers and hides from the sharp, cruel world outside. It's become accustomed to the fallout shelter and has learned to trade the beauty of the world for the cold comfort of safety.
Anyway, I have to go now. I'd like to cry again so if you know of any good dead dog stories, be sure to run them by me.
And then it happens. I close the book and I let it all out. I cry. It's one of those cries from deep inside that you squeeze at like a zit, trying to force all the shit out. What was I crying about?
Everything, I guess. Geeze, this could get long. Let me put it this way. All the things I write about here, they're just a shadow cast by the hulking mass of my loneliness and frustration. This stinking mass. It's like a backpack. It weighs me down but because it's out of sight, I just ignore it, make myself believe that it's weight is normal, nothing to be worried about, nothing to deal with.
But the truth is, it weighs on me everyday. Some days I am strong and I don't mind, I hardly notice it at all. Somedays I'm weaker and my shoulders ache. Then sometimes I just don't have any strength at all. I buckle under and cry because this burden is a muthafucker and I don't deserve it.
Sometimes crying can make you free. Sometimes it's like sucking the venom out of a snakebite. But sometimes, it's just crying and you wipe the tears away and move on. That's the crying spell I had.
Still, it felt good, if only because it reminded me that there is still a soft, warm heart deep down inside. It cowers and hides from the sharp, cruel world outside. It's become accustomed to the fallout shelter and has learned to trade the beauty of the world for the cold comfort of safety.
Anyway, I have to go now. I'd like to cry again so if you know of any good dead dog stories, be sure to run them by me.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
31. rant update (3 weeks later)
"What's the point?"
That was the big question from my previous blog entry. The answer turned out to be simple and straightforward - as the best answers always are. First off, I have to give credit where credit is due. Steph set my head straight, reducing my self-righteous stance to a spoiled hissy-fit.
Anyway, the point of being good and doing right in a world that doesn't appreciate it is this: this world, this life, this injustice is temporary. As dark as this tunnel is, it ends and on the other side is redemption.
In other words, suffering the injustice of this world is insignificant when placed alongside eternity. Trust God eve if it seems like God is letting you down; do your best to listen for that still small Voice through all the noise and the whitewash; persevere, persist; pray even if all your requests come back doughnuts. Put up with anything/everything because Act 3 is going to make it all worthwhile.
I'm not going to say that this makes it all irie but it does wear down the barb of meaninglessness.
That was the big question from my previous blog entry. The answer turned out to be simple and straightforward - as the best answers always are. First off, I have to give credit where credit is due. Steph set my head straight, reducing my self-righteous stance to a spoiled hissy-fit.
Anyway, the point of being good and doing right in a world that doesn't appreciate it is this: this world, this life, this injustice is temporary. As dark as this tunnel is, it ends and on the other side is redemption.
In other words, suffering the injustice of this world is insignificant when placed alongside eternity. Trust God eve if it seems like God is letting you down; do your best to listen for that still small Voice through all the noise and the whitewash; persevere, persist; pray even if all your requests come back doughnuts. Put up with anything/everything because Act 3 is going to make it all worthwhile.
I'm not going to say that this makes it all irie but it does wear down the barb of meaninglessness.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
30. rant (caution, potty mouth)
What's the point? You try to be a good person, try to live a good life, try not to do harm and what does it all get you? A front row seat to watching those without morals cheat, steal, fuck, and generally get away with shit that you would get nabbed for without fail. It's like in that movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I'm like Cameron, watching Ferris get away with it all, only Ferris doesn't invite me along (although he still steals the Ferrari and trashes it in the end).
So what brought this on? Well something small, really, but it points to larger issues. Some fucking low-life asshole stole my brake pads from my bicycle yesterday. It's a small thing but still, it got me thinking - what's the point?
What's the use of trying to be good when girls only seem interested in dating assholes? And don't give me that shit about "your day will come, you're going to find somebody, blah, blah, blah," I'll believe it when my dating calendar is full.
Why stay away from pirated software, why pay for it when people are giving it away for free, when nobody's getting caught, when even fellow Christians think you cruel for not letting them install software you paid for instead of stole, when those same Christians think you're an idiot for not installing software they offer you?
Why let people merge on the freeway when the next dumbshit will just cut your ass off? Why use your turn signals when the guy in the next lane will just speed up to block your ass in? Why wait in the long line of cars waiting to get on the freeway when shitheads in SUVs and noisy, modded rice burners will squeeze their way in at the last minute?
What the fuck? I was raised (mostly by various facist parachurch organizations) to believe that it's better to place others' needs before your own, to think of others before yourself, that it's better to give than to receive. So I tried to live my life that way and all I did was get shat upon, used, taken advantage of, neglected. But I've lived this way for so long now, it's just part of who I am. I couldn't be a selfish bastard even if I wanted to. I suppose I could try but I would either get caught or feel so guilty about it that I'd never be able to enjoy the spoils.
Woe is fucking me. Like the world will care. Nice guys are just grease between the hard steel wheels that keep everything running. This world is an ugly, stupid, shithole. There are pockets and moments of beauty but they are the exception rather than the rule.
For those who know me and read this, don't worry. Days will go by and I'll wonder why and how I felt the way I did when I wrote this. Maybe I'll feel remorse and think about deleting this entry, maybe I'll be brave and let it stand. Rest assured, I'll go back to being my quiet, polite self. I'll tuck all this shit beneath the surface and life will go on. If you call me and ask me about it, I'll probably say that everything is fine now, and I'll probably mean it. It's not everyday that I get to feeling this way and even when I do, it passes quickly enough.
Maybe I'm just allergic to injustice. Getting my brake pads stolen caused this flare up and instead of making my nose run or sneezing, it dredges all this angst from the depths and muddies the mind, loosens this latent frustration and generally ruins my day.
So what brought this on? Well something small, really, but it points to larger issues. Some fucking low-life asshole stole my brake pads from my bicycle yesterday. It's a small thing but still, it got me thinking - what's the point?
What's the use of trying to be good when girls only seem interested in dating assholes? And don't give me that shit about "your day will come, you're going to find somebody, blah, blah, blah," I'll believe it when my dating calendar is full.
Why stay away from pirated software, why pay for it when people are giving it away for free, when nobody's getting caught, when even fellow Christians think you cruel for not letting them install software you paid for instead of stole, when those same Christians think you're an idiot for not installing software they offer you?
Why let people merge on the freeway when the next dumbshit will just cut your ass off? Why use your turn signals when the guy in the next lane will just speed up to block your ass in? Why wait in the long line of cars waiting to get on the freeway when shitheads in SUVs and noisy, modded rice burners will squeeze their way in at the last minute?
What the fuck? I was raised (mostly by various facist parachurch organizations) to believe that it's better to place others' needs before your own, to think of others before yourself, that it's better to give than to receive. So I tried to live my life that way and all I did was get shat upon, used, taken advantage of, neglected. But I've lived this way for so long now, it's just part of who I am. I couldn't be a selfish bastard even if I wanted to. I suppose I could try but I would either get caught or feel so guilty about it that I'd never be able to enjoy the spoils.
Woe is fucking me. Like the world will care. Nice guys are just grease between the hard steel wheels that keep everything running. This world is an ugly, stupid, shithole. There are pockets and moments of beauty but they are the exception rather than the rule.
For those who know me and read this, don't worry. Days will go by and I'll wonder why and how I felt the way I did when I wrote this. Maybe I'll feel remorse and think about deleting this entry, maybe I'll be brave and let it stand. Rest assured, I'll go back to being my quiet, polite self. I'll tuck all this shit beneath the surface and life will go on. If you call me and ask me about it, I'll probably say that everything is fine now, and I'll probably mean it. It's not everyday that I get to feeling this way and even when I do, it passes quickly enough.
Maybe I'm just allergic to injustice. Getting my brake pads stolen caused this flare up and instead of making my nose run or sneezing, it dredges all this angst from the depths and muddies the mind, loosens this latent frustration and generally ruins my day.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
29. perks of being a nice guy...
...um...let's see...ah...maybe, no...
I'm sure if I think of it long enough I'll think of a few.
I'm sure if I think of it long enough I'll think of a few.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
28. God Shaped Hole
Was thinking about the concept of a God-shaped hole. Evangelicals have used this idea to explain the existential longing that gnaws at us late at night after reruns and infomercials drive us from the TV. They say that we have this longing because each of us has within us a God-shaped hole that only God can fill. The quote probably comes from Blaise Pascal, who actually called it a God shaped vacuum.
Here's what I've been thinking. If every part of man fell (became corrupted, not what it was originally made to be) during the fall, then even this hole fell. What I mean is, maybe there is this God-shaped cavern within us that is "shaped" in such a way that only God can fill it and make us whole. Well what if the shape of this space was corrupted in the fall along with the rest of man?
I kind of like this idea because it explains why for some people, their relationship with God is hand-in-glove whereas for other people (like me), the fit is not quite so snug. Maybe some peoples' God-holes are more misshapen than others and so they have a harder time relating to, understanding, even believing in God.
I don't know. Maybe this is taking the analogy too far, too literally. But I like it. It makes sense to me.
Anyone else?
Here's what I've been thinking. If every part of man fell (became corrupted, not what it was originally made to be) during the fall, then even this hole fell. What I mean is, maybe there is this God-shaped cavern within us that is "shaped" in such a way that only God can fill it and make us whole. Well what if the shape of this space was corrupted in the fall along with the rest of man?
I kind of like this idea because it explains why for some people, their relationship with God is hand-in-glove whereas for other people (like me), the fit is not quite so snug. Maybe some peoples' God-holes are more misshapen than others and so they have a harder time relating to, understanding, even believing in God.
I don't know. Maybe this is taking the analogy too far, too literally. But I like it. It makes sense to me.
Anyone else?
Thursday, March 17, 2005
27. next time I fall in love...
...oh nevermind. In order for there to be a next time there has to be a first time.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
26. God's shooting gallery
I used to believe that God played shooting gallery with my dreams. As I'd let them fly he'd pick them off one by one.
As you can imagine, this idea didn't make for a very trusting relationship. Now I believe that God is a just God and that he has a plan for everyone. But how can I belive that God has a plan for me while also believing that he shoots down my dreams?
(enter epiphany)
The only reason God would keep my dreams from coming true is if they weren't the dreams that he had for me. In other words, the dreams that I had weren't in line with the plans that God has for me so he had to get rid of them.
I like this idea with one caveat - I liked my dreams. Even if they weren't coming true, it was nice to be able to hold them in my hands, nurture them, wish them into being. If they aren't the dreams that God wants for me, I'd like to know what dreams he DOES have for me - my purpose, if you will.
The hard part is, it's easy to get motivated for your own dreams but what if I'm not crazy about the dreams that God has for me? If I got clear directions I'd follow because my understanding is that if I'm doing what God wants me to then my heart will follow. I just wish I knew what those dreams were.
Another consequence of thinking all my dreams were doomed is that my life lacked joy and motivation - hard to get motivated when you think your efforts won't amount to anything. I'm really hoping this new vision of God and his dreams for me will turn this around. For me, a good day is one where I'm not depressed. My mood swings from down to normal. I honestly can't remember the last time my emotions passed the normal threshold into the happy or joyous zone. This is a stupid way to live and I know God has something better for me...I just wish he'd let me in on the surprise.
waiting to see...
As you can imagine, this idea didn't make for a very trusting relationship. Now I believe that God is a just God and that he has a plan for everyone. But how can I belive that God has a plan for me while also believing that he shoots down my dreams?
(enter epiphany)
The only reason God would keep my dreams from coming true is if they weren't the dreams that he had for me. In other words, the dreams that I had weren't in line with the plans that God has for me so he had to get rid of them.
I like this idea with one caveat - I liked my dreams. Even if they weren't coming true, it was nice to be able to hold them in my hands, nurture them, wish them into being. If they aren't the dreams that God wants for me, I'd like to know what dreams he DOES have for me - my purpose, if you will.
The hard part is, it's easy to get motivated for your own dreams but what if I'm not crazy about the dreams that God has for me? If I got clear directions I'd follow because my understanding is that if I'm doing what God wants me to then my heart will follow. I just wish I knew what those dreams were.
Another consequence of thinking all my dreams were doomed is that my life lacked joy and motivation - hard to get motivated when you think your efforts won't amount to anything. I'm really hoping this new vision of God and his dreams for me will turn this around. For me, a good day is one where I'm not depressed. My mood swings from down to normal. I honestly can't remember the last time my emotions passed the normal threshold into the happy or joyous zone. This is a stupid way to live and I know God has something better for me...I just wish he'd let me in on the surprise.
waiting to see...
Thursday, February 17, 2005
25. anybody got a recipe for kool ade?
I'm in the middle of a couple books right now. I'm almost done with a book called, _Stumbling Towards Faith_ by Renee Altson. It's about a woman who was sexually abused by her father - think you've heard this story before? well her father prayed that God would forgive her daughter for being sinful while he was raping her. On top of this, the teachers at the Christian school she was attending were told that Renee just wanted attention and were instructed to ignore her pleas for help. Everywhere she turned in the church she was turned away or given trite one-liners ("have more faith," "learn to forgive," "trust in the Lord).
It's a miracle that she never killed herself. It's even more of a miracle that she held on to her faith (fractured and fragile but still there). Her father drilled into her a sense of worthlessness and the idea that God could not love someone so dirty and sinful (while touching her). As you can imagine, her view of God is FAR from healthy. In fact, she cannot bear to think of God as father because for her, the word "father" equals pain and abuse and worthlessness.
This book should be required reading for anyone who ministers to young people - it calls into question a lot of the advice that we give out to young people who are going through difficult trials. It shows blanket statements and cliches for what they are - inadequate, lazy, and impersonal. It shows that faith does not have to be whole, it just has to believe.
I'll get back to why I mention this book later. Before that, I want to mention another book, _Killing The Buddha_ by Jeff Sharlet and Peter Manseau. I've only begun this book and it's unlike anything I've ever read in Christian literature. The subtitle of the book is, "A Heretic's Bible" because they take some of the books of the Bible, give them to various writers and tell them to write their take on it. Now this is no blow by blow summary. These writers do the opposite of what most theologians do. Instead of spending all their time on the bits that foreshadow the coming of Jesus, or the miracles, or coming up with three-point life-lessons on various stories, these writers tackle the bits that most commentaries (and sermons) ignore - the confusing parts, the unjust parts, the parts where God doesn't make sense. They go straight for those difficult sections and aren't afraid to call a spade a spade. Here's a bit from one writer's take on Genesis:
"In Genesis, your brother is never your keeper and your family is not the solid, sunny unit idealized by the religious right. Jacob betrays his brother, Esau, and his own father; Jacob's children include Joseph, whose brothers consider killing him and then simply leave him naked in a pit; Joseph then torments both them and Jacob, civility only reigning when they act as if they are all strangers. Abraham comes a hair's breadth away from sacrificing Isaac, his own son. Lot's daughters get him drunk in order to fool him into impregnating them incestuously."
This isn't the version you learned in Sunday school. Despite the seemingly irreverent treatment above, the author(s) and this book are sincerely trying to find God - God as he truly is, not as the church has presented him.
Anyway, I mention these two books because they both (in their own way) confirm something that I've been thinking lately: I've been following a counterfeit Jesus, minted by the church. Maybe that's too harsh. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that I've been following a sanitized version of God - a God who jumps through prayer hoops, a God who can be defined, a God subject to our ability to explain his actions. But that's bullshit, that's making God in our image.
So then, from here on out, I'm going to try my best to come at the Bible anew - as if I've never read it before, as if I'd never heard the sanitized, church-version of the Bible. I want to see these storie for what they are, take them at face value and then ascribe my own meanings to them.
Unfortunately, this is the kind of thinking that births cults, but between my band and the "Old-Man's-Bible-Study" group, I think I'm safe. However, if I invite you to join my commune, please get a couple people together and perform an intervention ASAP. And if I offer you Kool Ade, run.
In a way, this is an extension of my previous blog entry titled, "it seems a million miles away..." In that blog I wrote about how I realized for the first time that God is God and can do whatever he wants - and he does. This was a revelation because I never heard this idea in church. I think it's because there's no room in the church for a God who doesn't make sense - a God we can't explain. But ask any Christian author who's tried to answer the question, "why do bad things happen to good people?" and they'll tell you that there are no easy answers (the usually admit as much in their introductions). See, the thing is, God does make sense. God makes sense to God. God doesn't always make sense to man.
Both the books I mentioned come at God on God's terms, not the church's terms. If there are things about God they don't understand, they don't resort to pretzel logic to explain it away, they simply say, "we don't understand." And they believe anyway. That's the kind of faith I want to have - that's a God that I want to worship and serve.
Okay, I've written enough (too much) already and I've got to work tomorrow.
...to be continued...someday...
God bless,
randall
It's a miracle that she never killed herself. It's even more of a miracle that she held on to her faith (fractured and fragile but still there). Her father drilled into her a sense of worthlessness and the idea that God could not love someone so dirty and sinful (while touching her). As you can imagine, her view of God is FAR from healthy. In fact, she cannot bear to think of God as father because for her, the word "father" equals pain and abuse and worthlessness.
This book should be required reading for anyone who ministers to young people - it calls into question a lot of the advice that we give out to young people who are going through difficult trials. It shows blanket statements and cliches for what they are - inadequate, lazy, and impersonal. It shows that faith does not have to be whole, it just has to believe.
I'll get back to why I mention this book later. Before that, I want to mention another book, _Killing The Buddha_ by Jeff Sharlet and Peter Manseau. I've only begun this book and it's unlike anything I've ever read in Christian literature. The subtitle of the book is, "A Heretic's Bible" because they take some of the books of the Bible, give them to various writers and tell them to write their take on it. Now this is no blow by blow summary. These writers do the opposite of what most theologians do. Instead of spending all their time on the bits that foreshadow the coming of Jesus, or the miracles, or coming up with three-point life-lessons on various stories, these writers tackle the bits that most commentaries (and sermons) ignore - the confusing parts, the unjust parts, the parts where God doesn't make sense. They go straight for those difficult sections and aren't afraid to call a spade a spade. Here's a bit from one writer's take on Genesis:
"In Genesis, your brother is never your keeper and your family is not the solid, sunny unit idealized by the religious right. Jacob betrays his brother, Esau, and his own father; Jacob's children include Joseph, whose brothers consider killing him and then simply leave him naked in a pit; Joseph then torments both them and Jacob, civility only reigning when they act as if they are all strangers. Abraham comes a hair's breadth away from sacrificing Isaac, his own son. Lot's daughters get him drunk in order to fool him into impregnating them incestuously."
This isn't the version you learned in Sunday school. Despite the seemingly irreverent treatment above, the author(s) and this book are sincerely trying to find God - God as he truly is, not as the church has presented him.
Anyway, I mention these two books because they both (in their own way) confirm something that I've been thinking lately: I've been following a counterfeit Jesus, minted by the church. Maybe that's too harsh. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that I've been following a sanitized version of God - a God who jumps through prayer hoops, a God who can be defined, a God subject to our ability to explain his actions. But that's bullshit, that's making God in our image.
So then, from here on out, I'm going to try my best to come at the Bible anew - as if I've never read it before, as if I'd never heard the sanitized, church-version of the Bible. I want to see these storie for what they are, take them at face value and then ascribe my own meanings to them.
Unfortunately, this is the kind of thinking that births cults, but between my band and the "Old-Man's-Bible-Study" group, I think I'm safe. However, if I invite you to join my commune, please get a couple people together and perform an intervention ASAP. And if I offer you Kool Ade, run.
In a way, this is an extension of my previous blog entry titled, "it seems a million miles away..." In that blog I wrote about how I realized for the first time that God is God and can do whatever he wants - and he does. This was a revelation because I never heard this idea in church. I think it's because there's no room in the church for a God who doesn't make sense - a God we can't explain. But ask any Christian author who's tried to answer the question, "why do bad things happen to good people?" and they'll tell you that there are no easy answers (the usually admit as much in their introductions). See, the thing is, God does make sense. God makes sense to God. God doesn't always make sense to man.
Both the books I mentioned come at God on God's terms, not the church's terms. If there are things about God they don't understand, they don't resort to pretzel logic to explain it away, they simply say, "we don't understand." And they believe anyway. That's the kind of faith I want to have - that's a God that I want to worship and serve.
Okay, I've written enough (too much) already and I've got to work tomorrow.
...to be continued...someday...
God bless,
randall
Thursday, January 06, 2005
24. it seems a million miles away but it gets a little closer everyday
It's happening. The shell is chipping away, bit by bit, piece by peace, the soft, fleshy inside is making it's way out into the deep, dark, beautiful world with all of it's danger and adventure.
Epiphany .1
I've come to understand that God is God and I am not. What I mean is, for the longest time I held a kind of grudge against God, thinking that he had done me wrong in various situations close to my heart. God was Lucy and I was Charlie Brown, flat on my back wondering why I let God talk me into trying to kick the football again. Without going into too much detail, there were a couple of key times in my life where I really felt God was urging me towards a course of action that seemed too wonderful to be true - so wonderful that I didn't want to believe it but the signs seemed unmistakable so I ran with it but just as I was about to kick the ball between the goal posts, it was snatched away from me and all that built up momentum had nowhere to go so it dropped me flat on my ass. And all I could do was wonder why God would do such a thing.
Anyway, epiphany number one has to do with the realization that God is God and I am not. I don't understand his ways but by faith, I have to believe that God is a just god and that he loves me, despite what seems like evidence to the contrary. On top of that, even if God did lead me on and left me hanging, that's his right because he is God and I am not. On top of that, even if he did those things on purpose because that was his right, he is still worthy of all the praise and honor that my body can bring - becaue he is God and I am not.
I suppose one could read that phrase, "God is God and I am not," as a kind of hopeless resignation or a kind of mocking defiance. I just state it as a simple fact to be taken at face value. It's a statement, like saying one plus one equals two. That's just how it is. God is God and I am not.
Epiphany .2
There used to be a time when I thought that the girl of my dreams was just around the corner. There were times when she seemed so very close that I could reach out and run my fingers through her imaginary hair. (see the blog entry "ready or not" to read excerpts from some of my old journals from this time) But despite how close she seemed, she never materialized. The feeling would pass and all that was left was this gaping void that I had cleared away for her. And it would hurt and I would feel silly for thinking that the feeling was anything more than my imagination working overtime and without even noticing it, another layer was added to the shell around my heart.
Epiphany number two is the thought that maybe it wasn't a woman I should have been anticipating. Maybe that feeling of being so close to something I've always wanted wasn't my longing to meet my soulmate, rather it was my longing to encounter God. But I missed out because instead of looking for God, I was looking for her. She wasn't there to be found but maybe God was and I missed out because I was looking the wrong way.
I won't make this mistake again. There have been moments, brief but unmistakable, where I've felt that sense of anticipation again. But I know what this is now. It isn't my soulmate who's around the corner, it's God. Or maybe it's something else. I won't guess as to what this feeling of expectation is leading me towards - I'll just follow and wait and see.
Two epiphanies. They haven't changed me overnight but they certainly are helping to erode away the walls around my heart - yes, "erode," is the right word because it's a slow process but it's also a relenteless process. It looks harmless enought but carved the Grand Canyon out of the ground.
I used to be a happy, go lucky kind of guy. That seems a million miles away from where I am now but it gets a little closer everyday.
Epiphany .1
I've come to understand that God is God and I am not. What I mean is, for the longest time I held a kind of grudge against God, thinking that he had done me wrong in various situations close to my heart. God was Lucy and I was Charlie Brown, flat on my back wondering why I let God talk me into trying to kick the football again. Without going into too much detail, there were a couple of key times in my life where I really felt God was urging me towards a course of action that seemed too wonderful to be true - so wonderful that I didn't want to believe it but the signs seemed unmistakable so I ran with it but just as I was about to kick the ball between the goal posts, it was snatched away from me and all that built up momentum had nowhere to go so it dropped me flat on my ass. And all I could do was wonder why God would do such a thing.
Anyway, epiphany number one has to do with the realization that God is God and I am not. I don't understand his ways but by faith, I have to believe that God is a just god and that he loves me, despite what seems like evidence to the contrary. On top of that, even if God did lead me on and left me hanging, that's his right because he is God and I am not. On top of that, even if he did those things on purpose because that was his right, he is still worthy of all the praise and honor that my body can bring - becaue he is God and I am not.
I suppose one could read that phrase, "God is God and I am not," as a kind of hopeless resignation or a kind of mocking defiance. I just state it as a simple fact to be taken at face value. It's a statement, like saying one plus one equals two. That's just how it is. God is God and I am not.
Epiphany .2
There used to be a time when I thought that the girl of my dreams was just around the corner. There were times when she seemed so very close that I could reach out and run my fingers through her imaginary hair. (see the blog entry "ready or not" to read excerpts from some of my old journals from this time) But despite how close she seemed, she never materialized. The feeling would pass and all that was left was this gaping void that I had cleared away for her. And it would hurt and I would feel silly for thinking that the feeling was anything more than my imagination working overtime and without even noticing it, another layer was added to the shell around my heart.
Epiphany number two is the thought that maybe it wasn't a woman I should have been anticipating. Maybe that feeling of being so close to something I've always wanted wasn't my longing to meet my soulmate, rather it was my longing to encounter God. But I missed out because instead of looking for God, I was looking for her. She wasn't there to be found but maybe God was and I missed out because I was looking the wrong way.
I won't make this mistake again. There have been moments, brief but unmistakable, where I've felt that sense of anticipation again. But I know what this is now. It isn't my soulmate who's around the corner, it's God. Or maybe it's something else. I won't guess as to what this feeling of expectation is leading me towards - I'll just follow and wait and see.
Two epiphanies. They haven't changed me overnight but they certainly are helping to erode away the walls around my heart - yes, "erode," is the right word because it's a slow process but it's also a relenteless process. It looks harmless enought but carved the Grand Canyon out of the ground.
I used to be a happy, go lucky kind of guy. That seems a million miles away from where I am now but it gets a little closer everyday.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
23. the egg and the butterfly
So inside still wants out but instead of waiting for the shell to burst it's going to have to wait for the pieces to chip and break away. Bit by bit and piece by piece, brick by brick, chips and fragments. I'd rather the whole be blown apart but I think of an egg. I can't remember why but I remember reading somewhere that you can't help a chick out of its shell - it needs to struggle and make it's own way out. In the same way, a butterfly cannot be helped out of its cocoon. There's some kind of coating that gets deposited on it's wings in the struggle to get out and if some outside force (like some well-meaning third grader) tries to help the butterfly by breaking the cocoon, it won't be able to fly.
Inside wants out but there's something to be learned in the struggle to emerge. God could intervene but he wants me to fly and so he waits and watches me struggle.
Bit by bit, crack by crack...and one day...
I'll take to the air and never look back.
Inside wants out but there's something to be learned in the struggle to emerge. God could intervene but he wants me to fly and so he waits and watches me struggle.
Bit by bit, crack by crack...and one day...
I'll take to the air and never look back.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
22. Inside Wants Out
Inside wants out but it doesn't know how
inside wants out but it can not find a way
inside wants out to turn the world around
inside wants out so bad it can not breathe
inside wants out but it can not find a way
inside wants out to turn the world around
inside wants out so bad it can not breathe
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