My friend Noah and I were talking about "writing" one night. We were both educated together for many years, and in our younger days we studied quite a bit of greek literature in which the authors' (usually poets) "Muses" would be invoked to help with the writing of something. This "Muse" idea has stuck with the both of us over the years and we were mulling it over together one night a few weeks ago. This poem comes from that conversation. I dedicate it to him. Love you, Noah.
Ode to Muse.
To speak in candor of her most curious ways,
This muse of mine visits not hither to stay
But her arrival thereupon, whenever occasioned,
From her expressive appeasement, I muster no dissuasion.
Speak must she, 'tis mine merely to acceed
To her inspiration, however may she seem.
An intemperate storm of intellectual leaning,
Self-bruits through me with her relentless meaning.
Obedient am I, if not left always wondering
If someday I may predict her giddy wandering--
If I'll understand her one day, as she fathoms me
Or if a thing predictable a muse cannot ever, ever be.
T. Emerson
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Paradigms.
I just finished reading "The Shack" by William P. Young, which I highly recommend. It blows a lot of "paradigms" out the proverbial window and offers a plentitude of food for thought. Here is just one excerpt amoung many from the title that struck a cord with me.
"Paradigms power perception and perceptions power emotions. Most emotions are responses to perception--what you think is true about a given situation. If your perception is false, then your emotional response to it will be false too. So check your perceptions, and beyond that check the truthfulness of your paradigms--what you believe. The more you live in the truth, the more your emotions will help you see clearly."
A quote chosen by Young placed at the beginning of a chapter:
"Falsehood has an infinity of combinations, but truth has only one mode of being."
-Jean Jacques Rousseau
"Paradigms power perception and perceptions power emotions. Most emotions are responses to perception--what you think is true about a given situation. If your perception is false, then your emotional response to it will be false too. So check your perceptions, and beyond that check the truthfulness of your paradigms--what you believe. The more you live in the truth, the more your emotions will help you see clearly."
A quote chosen by Young placed at the beginning of a chapter:
-Jean Jacques Rousseau
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Thoughts on Painted Deserts and a thing called "Beauty"
It's no secret that I'm a fan of Donald Miller's. I've been accused of being a "crowd follower" for it, but I care not. I've read all that he's published so far and eagerly await the release of his newest endeavor: "Story, Why Some People's Lives Make Sense and Others Don't." His second book "Searching for God Knows What" is probably my favorite, although one must really read "Blue Like Jazz" first, to get a feel for Don. Recently, however I've revisited some of the themes that made me think when I initially encountered them in "Through Painted Deserts", the third release, involving a story of a summer long road trip (or pilgrimage, rather) from Texas to Oregon taking place in Miller's younger epoch. :-)
What I came away with in reading the theologically speckled narrative, was Don Miller's intriguing treatment of the time honored if not wearied "Question" as to why, just why are we here?
His answer, I found, began to come when he talked about his first experience truly witnessing the beauty of nature in Oregon. The guy connects with the outdoors. Or it connects with him, however you want to look at it. I wonder if it's because he grew up in Texas and so he appreciates green when he sees it, or if God just wired him that way. :-) I was moved by his description of some Oregonian mountains at night, as he stood there with his friend observing them, waiting for dawn. The very mountains around which I've spent the sum of my life, and never perceived and appreciated in such a manner:
"The mountains are silhouetted like sleeping dragons. There is a deep, blue coolness at the western edge of the landscape, where a few stars linger, their last flickered flames shimmering. And if these mountains had eyes, they would wake to find two strangers in their fences, standing in admiration as a breathing read pours its tinge upon earths shore. These mountains, which have seen untold sunrises, long to thunder praise but stand reverent, silent to that man's weak praise should be given Gods attention."
I love the metaphor. He elaborates much more throughout the book about the whole idea and the reason that nature answers the great "Why" Question to him (though, do please keep in mind that the book offers 250 or more pages of context to his message that I cannot justly deliver in a blog...):
"I used to have all these theories about life. I thought I had everybody figured out, even God, but I don't. I think the woods, being away from all the clingy soot of commercialism has taught me life is enormous, and I am very tiny in the middle of it yet the chemicals in my brain that make me feel beauty when I look up at the stars, when I watch the sunset, indicate that I must be here for a reason. I think I would sum it up this way: life is not a story about me, but it is being told to me, and I can be glad of that. I think that is the why of life and, in fact, the why of this ancient faith I am caught up in: to enjoy God. The stars were created to dazzle us, like a love letter; light itself is just a metaphor, something that exists outside of time, made up of what seems like nothing, infinite in its power, something that can be experienced but not understood, like God.Its all a metaphor, and the story is about us; its about all of us who God made, and God Himself, just enjoying each other. I think we are supposed to stand in deserts and marvel at how the sun rises. I think we are supposed to sleep in meadows and watch the stars. I think life is spirituality."
These particular excerpts aptly represent more or less a reappearing theme in the story plot: the proposition that God intended to reveal himself to us through His creation, largely through its beauty. I guess it's a new way to look at the whole idea of "natural revelation", huh?
This led me to thinking--naturally--as Don Miller's perspectives generally do. I was thinking about that book called The 5 Love Languages written by Gary Chapman. I had recently read that book as well, and began to try and amalgamate apparent principles from both it and Painted Deserts. In Chapman's book, he describes the five different categories in which humans give and receive love. He categorizes man's demonstrations of love as such: quality time, gift giving, words of affirmation, acts of service, and physical touch.
I find it fascinating that every living, breathing human being has a fundamental need for love. I could expound on this to prove why, but I don't think it's necessary. I also find it interesting that we all give and get it in so many different ways.
Likewise, I think that God has all of these love languages, and more. And God's love is perfect, as He mentions once or twice, so He "speaks" all love languages, but Beauty happens to be one of the vast many of these: God gives us beautiful things to love us. That (among other reasons) is why He gave Eve to Adam, as the story goes. That is why He gave us anything beautiful, I think.
In the same way, I think that His earthly and created beauty was originally perfect. His creation was perfect, but the one hole He left--the one that made it all so painful and yet so bafflingly still worthwhile to Him--freewill, screwed it up. And the beauty that we witness in His creation can be a reflection of that. But it's a dim one like Paul discussed. A dim "reflection" of what's to come. The beauty that we behold today in not just "nature," but anywhere, must be flawed, as is our own love and general state of being.
I imagine that as we "see" dimly in the same way that Paul says we love dimly and therefore experience a dimmer beauty as a result. Our general earthly experience here is "dimmer," something C.S. Lewis touches upon in "The Great Divorce". That's a good one, too, by the way. We will see clearly someday, it says. Someday we'll understand true and undefiled love and beauty. But maybe we'll be able to appreciate it more because we will know the difference, too--another point in apology for freewill, I do surmise. Hmm, something to be mulled over a bit further....
So, our love is imperfect. That was quite a realization to me, at one point. I remember reading I Corinthians 13 and getting immensely frustrated with what I thought the message was. One day, while venting to a friend I read off the qualities of love found in the passage: patience, kindness, not ever envious, not boastful, not selfish or rude, always gives the benefit of the doubt, doesnt get angry--and on and on.
I was frustrated because I knew that I loved those around me. I knew what love felt like. I had given it, I had received it, but my life did not, does not, and never will look like that 100%. "If this is what love is supposed to look like" I said, "what the heck is it that we love with?!" She shrugged and said most nonchalantly and ever wisely, "imperfect love."
Duh. Way obvious. Of course--as usual--the idealist in me was assuming that it was all or nothing. If I did not embody this passage of a letter from Paul to the Corinthians of ca. First Century AD I didn't love. Period. Not true, thank God. I have never been aquainted with anyone who lives and loves with every one of these qualities: perfectly. But I know people that love me, and I know that I love them.
So, the question follows: why the imperfection in such a thing as love--so fundamental to our emotional, if not spiritual, health?
Sin is a dysfunctional disease. Its a relational disorder, to be more precise. There is no sin that does not affect somewhere along the line the Ptolemaic Chain of Being-like hierarchy of relationships in which we all exist. There is not way around it: our actions affect others.
So, the fact that we love imperfectly is just one more symptom of this Epic Dysfunction, and how the imperfection of our love manifests itself in our lives, daily or overall (though, can you really separate the two, I wonder?) varies. One may struggle with patience, which may lead to anger and unkindness. Another may struggle more with being insecure and jealous/envious of others or others property--this is one manifestation of selfishness. Anyhow, it all leads back to pride, hands down, for this--I find over and over-- the root of all sin, or rather Dysfunction if you so prefer to label it, just to bring the point back around.
So even as beauty is a perhaps a subcategory of God's love to us, the whole idea of beauty reflects that of love; it kind of works in the same way. Just as we love imperfectly and experience it imperfectly, the beauty we experience is imperfect as well. Both must be pretty awesome in their perfect forms if they're so good even as imperfect as we know them. Someday. Also, we experience love in so many different ways, in different languages as said before, and likewise I believe we also experience beauty in different ways similar to "languages." That's an entire subject in itself. And it's sometimes through beauty/love that He chooses to remind us of the Why, and what "it" is all about.
I've been thinking and probably learning so much on this topic of late, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe I'll have to go back and read the book again, huh? Every once in a while (more often than not, actually) I need a reminder that "life is spirituality" as Don succinctly puts it. It's a beautiful thing. ;-) There's a lot to pursue here, as thematically speaking. I'm sure there's more coming.
What I came away with in reading the theologically speckled narrative, was Don Miller's intriguing treatment of the time honored if not wearied "Question" as to why, just why are we here?
His answer, I found, began to come when he talked about his first experience truly witnessing the beauty of nature in Oregon. The guy connects with the outdoors. Or it connects with him, however you want to look at it. I wonder if it's because he grew up in Texas and so he appreciates green when he sees it, or if God just wired him that way. :-) I was moved by his description of some Oregonian mountains at night, as he stood there with his friend observing them, waiting for dawn. The very mountains around which I've spent the sum of my life, and never perceived and appreciated in such a manner:
"The mountains are silhouetted like sleeping dragons. There is a deep, blue coolness at the western edge of the landscape, where a few stars linger, their last flickered flames shimmering. And if these mountains had eyes, they would wake to find two strangers in their fences, standing in admiration as a breathing read pours its tinge upon earths shore. These mountains, which have seen untold sunrises, long to thunder praise but stand reverent, silent to that man's weak praise should be given Gods attention."
I love the metaphor. He elaborates much more throughout the book about the whole idea and the reason that nature answers the great "Why" Question to him (though, do please keep in mind that the book offers 250 or more pages of context to his message that I cannot justly deliver in a blog...):
"I used to have all these theories about life. I thought I had everybody figured out, even God, but I don't. I think the woods, being away from all the clingy soot of commercialism has taught me life is enormous, and I am very tiny in the middle of it yet the chemicals in my brain that make me feel beauty when I look up at the stars, when I watch the sunset, indicate that I must be here for a reason. I think I would sum it up this way: life is not a story about me, but it is being told to me, and I can be glad of that. I think that is the why of life and, in fact, the why of this ancient faith I am caught up in: to enjoy God. The stars were created to dazzle us, like a love letter; light itself is just a metaphor, something that exists outside of time, made up of what seems like nothing, infinite in its power, something that can be experienced but not understood, like God.Its all a metaphor, and the story is about us; its about all of us who God made, and God Himself, just enjoying each other. I think we are supposed to stand in deserts and marvel at how the sun rises. I think we are supposed to sleep in meadows and watch the stars. I think life is spirituality."
These particular excerpts aptly represent more or less a reappearing theme in the story plot: the proposition that God intended to reveal himself to us through His creation, largely through its beauty. I guess it's a new way to look at the whole idea of "natural revelation", huh?
This led me to thinking--naturally--as Don Miller's perspectives generally do. I was thinking about that book called The 5 Love Languages written by Gary Chapman. I had recently read that book as well, and began to try and amalgamate apparent principles from both it and Painted Deserts. In Chapman's book, he describes the five different categories in which humans give and receive love. He categorizes man's demonstrations of love as such: quality time, gift giving, words of affirmation, acts of service, and physical touch.
I find it fascinating that every living, breathing human being has a fundamental need for love. I could expound on this to prove why, but I don't think it's necessary. I also find it interesting that we all give and get it in so many different ways.
Likewise, I think that God has all of these love languages, and more. And God's love is perfect, as He mentions once or twice, so He "speaks" all love languages, but Beauty happens to be one of the vast many of these: God gives us beautiful things to love us. That (among other reasons) is why He gave Eve to Adam, as the story goes. That is why He gave us anything beautiful, I think.
In the same way, I think that His earthly and created beauty was originally perfect. His creation was perfect, but the one hole He left--the one that made it all so painful and yet so bafflingly still worthwhile to Him--freewill, screwed it up. And the beauty that we witness in His creation can be a reflection of that. But it's a dim one like Paul discussed. A dim "reflection" of what's to come. The beauty that we behold today in not just "nature," but anywhere, must be flawed, as is our own love and general state of being.
I imagine that as we "see" dimly in the same way that Paul says we love dimly and therefore experience a dimmer beauty as a result. Our general earthly experience here is "dimmer," something C.S. Lewis touches upon in "The Great Divorce". That's a good one, too, by the way. We will see clearly someday, it says. Someday we'll understand true and undefiled love and beauty. But maybe we'll be able to appreciate it more because we will know the difference, too--another point in apology for freewill, I do surmise. Hmm, something to be mulled over a bit further....
So, our love is imperfect. That was quite a realization to me, at one point. I remember reading I Corinthians 13 and getting immensely frustrated with what I thought the message was. One day, while venting to a friend I read off the qualities of love found in the passage: patience, kindness, not ever envious, not boastful, not selfish or rude, always gives the benefit of the doubt, doesnt get angry--and on and on.
I was frustrated because I knew that I loved those around me. I knew what love felt like. I had given it, I had received it, but my life did not, does not, and never will look like that 100%. "If this is what love is supposed to look like" I said, "what the heck is it that we love with?!" She shrugged and said most nonchalantly and ever wisely, "imperfect love."
Duh. Way obvious. Of course--as usual--the idealist in me was assuming that it was all or nothing. If I did not embody this passage of a letter from Paul to the Corinthians of ca. First Century AD I didn't love. Period. Not true, thank God. I have never been aquainted with anyone who lives and loves with every one of these qualities: perfectly. But I know people that love me, and I know that I love them.
So, the question follows: why the imperfection in such a thing as love--so fundamental to our emotional, if not spiritual, health?
Sin is a dysfunctional disease. Its a relational disorder, to be more precise. There is no sin that does not affect somewhere along the line the Ptolemaic Chain of Being-like hierarchy of relationships in which we all exist. There is not way around it: our actions affect others.
So, the fact that we love imperfectly is just one more symptom of this Epic Dysfunction, and how the imperfection of our love manifests itself in our lives, daily or overall (though, can you really separate the two, I wonder?) varies. One may struggle with patience, which may lead to anger and unkindness. Another may struggle more with being insecure and jealous/envious of others or others property--this is one manifestation of selfishness. Anyhow, it all leads back to pride, hands down, for this--I find over and over-- the root of all sin, or rather Dysfunction if you so prefer to label it, just to bring the point back around.
So even as beauty is a perhaps a subcategory of God's love to us, the whole idea of beauty reflects that of love; it kind of works in the same way. Just as we love imperfectly and experience it imperfectly, the beauty we experience is imperfect as well. Both must be pretty awesome in their perfect forms if they're so good even as imperfect as we know them. Someday. Also, we experience love in so many different ways, in different languages as said before, and likewise I believe we also experience beauty in different ways similar to "languages." That's an entire subject in itself. And it's sometimes through beauty/love that He chooses to remind us of the Why, and what "it" is all about.
I've been thinking and probably learning so much on this topic of late, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe I'll have to go back and read the book again, huh? Every once in a while (more often than not, actually) I need a reminder that "life is spirituality" as Don succinctly puts it. It's a beautiful thing. ;-) There's a lot to pursue here, as thematically speaking. I'm sure there's more coming.
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