Ba-zillions of dollar are spent by companies each year to compel the consumers of America that their products are truly necessary. After years of television, marketing experts have honed their craft to a point of magic. The know how to cast spells on the bulk of humanity. And it seems that those spells are pretty effective.
I find most of this bewitching to be pretty hilarious. I'm probably not the only one.
I just watched a hair dye commercial. I myself could be considered a candidate for such a product. I'm not that old, but my hair is a nearly-black color, and the white hairs seem to be multiplying around the sides. (oddly, and annoyingly enough - the white ones actually grow faster than the dark ones. Which, for my monthly hair buzzing means that I have little white wings protruding all over the place.) My hair is beginning the graying process, and people are starting to notice - and verbalizing it to me.
So I am in that target group - the still young guy who is suddenly becoming gray niche. This and many commercials could grab me. They don't.
For me, I break the magic through one or two methods.
1. When I watch a commercial, I ask myself "What is the literal message that the imagery would lead me to believe." or "What is being visually communicated."
2. I often ask these questions and watch the commercial with the volume muted. This way I can focus on what the images are telling me, rather than being told about the product. Most commercials are selling a feeling or an idea - and the product is tied to that emotion.
So - for instance - tonight I watched a few commercials in this way. The most stunningly ridiculous was in fact....the hair dye bit.
An unhappy, frowning man with some gray hair applies the product. Suddenly, there is a gorgeous, significantly younger, nymphomaniacle women who is all over him. He's now happy, desirable and he takes her to his home where he is tackled on the bed by her - breasts pressing him down - as he turns off the lights. Implied sex ensues.
Real message of commercial: Our product will get you sex with hot women.
Of course - that's not what the product is for. That's just what the subtext of the product is saying. That's the emotion they're appealing to. "This product will make you more desirable, it will make you feel younger, and look younger."
So what, you say. That's consumerism. Well, what's really going on isn't a positive. Here's why.
I think that much of our consumerism is built upon the foundation of fear. Think about this for a moment. How many products could you name that are targeted to counter just these 3 fears/concerns?
1. Reduced attractiveness/desirability
2. Physical Signs of Aging
3. Unhealthy Habits/Lifestyles
With just those three, I'll bet you'd fill a sheet of paper if you watched an average day's TV and kept a running list. It's amazing!
Here's my profound caveat: The problem is the solution.
The solution that these commercials offer is problematic. They address deep, broadly felt and very much real fears. People are aging. Our culture does have an unhealthy value on looking right. We do judge people by their sexual desirability. We do become sick. Some of us do need more money. We are overweight and unheathy. We're bored. We have serious medical conditions. We will disappoint, deteriorate, and die.
But the solutions these products offer up against those fears are, at best, superficial. They don't deal with the real problem - just the external perceptions. The problem isn't that my hair is gray, the problem is that my life is short, and these white hairs are a visible sign that my time is running out.
What I'm afraid is happening is that we are deluding ourselves. We think that these products can somehow save us from the real issues. And distracting yourself from a real problem through a temporary and superficial solution is no solution at all.
I am getting older. (So are you!) I could spend my mental energies, money and time seeking solutions to fight that. (hair dye, diet pills, cosmetic surgery..etc) But if that's been my focus, it still won't change that reality. What it will do is prevent me from asking better questions.
Questions like: What legacy will I lead my children? What am I doing today that will outlast me - have a positive effect on future generations. What things, if I don't do them now, will I wish I had done when I am old. Have I considered my eternal destiny - God, faith, and the afterlife? What are the most important things - what should I live for? What AM I living for now?! Will I have regrets based on the way I am living now?
But we aren't asking those questions. We're spellbound. Bewitched by the empty promises we see played out before us. Our hearts are captured by the possibility of being cool, or being found sexy. We're worried that we're looking more wrinkled, fatter, older. (we are) I could be more significant with a new car, a new technology toy. I could save a few dollars with this offer, this company, this product. I could be seen as younger, cooler, wiser, wealthier, smarter, happier if only I...
Snap out of it! Happiness is never found in externals but in eternals. And life is definitely not in what other people think of those externals. Decode those slick tricks, those crafted commercials. Watch them with the volume off. (better yet just turn them off!) Evaluate their promises. They're absurd.
No. Find out what will last, seek God, seek eternity, seek real life, seek wisdom to live today. Life is now - but it might not be tomorrow. Make the most of it. Turn off the TV and live what you've got.
I'm letting my grays show. They're real, and they are reminders. (My wife thinks they're sexy!)
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Peter Parker's Good Fortune
With the advent of widespread popularity of SuperHeroDom in movies and general culture, many have become familiar with "lesser knowns" of these characters. (indeed - the massive attraction to the superhero architype would be an interesting study from a sociological perspective - is this a felt need? A replacement of God, or a re-packaging of Greco-Roman mythology?)
For many, there seems to be some bizarre delivery of their powers. Through sometimes odd circumstances, normal people wind up with some new or augmented abilities. (if this is reoccuring mythology, the shift seems to have gone from "the gods are like us" to "we are becoming the gods." This too would be an interesting thing to explore, if it's there.) The Hulk, Wolverine, Fantastic 4...etc.
One such transformation that has long puzzled me is Peter Parker into Spider-man.
I am not so much confused by the premise of how he gets his powers, but more so at the tremendously good fortune Peter Parker had in receiving the augmentations/manifestations of spidery attributes that he did.
Consider his gifting: amazing strength and durability, augmented reactions, ability to adhere to and climb walls, webs spinning and his "spidey sense."
Why is it that Peter Parker only gets the good stuff? Consider some of the other possible attributes arachnae; independant mandbiles with poison laden fangs, 8 eyes, complete body hair, 8 seven-jointed legs, and the junk in the trunk: an enormous abdomen.
Similarly, his positive changes could have manifested very differently. What if his durability also came with an exoskeleton? How fortunate for him that his web slinging ability was in his wrists/hands and he doesn't just shoot spiderwebs out of his butt. (imagine him swinging around the city by his butt - doesn't quite inspire the same awe and respect, does it?)
[here I will grant my lack of superhero knowledge and say - I think in the 70's cartoon, he actually had a device that produced the spider silk for him, (market that Peter!) whereas in the recent movies, it was an anatomical feature. Which is true to the original, I do not know. But I do know that the mental image of spiderman swinging around by his butt is a irreducable souce of amusement for me]
So - Peter Parker: most fortunate of superheroes.
Though it's not shown, I'm sure he must have a strong penchant for eating flies.
For many, there seems to be some bizarre delivery of their powers. Through sometimes odd circumstances, normal people wind up with some new or augmented abilities. (if this is reoccuring mythology, the shift seems to have gone from "the gods are like us" to "we are becoming the gods." This too would be an interesting thing to explore, if it's there.) The Hulk, Wolverine, Fantastic 4...etc.
One such transformation that has long puzzled me is Peter Parker into Spider-man.
I am not so much confused by the premise of how he gets his powers, but more so at the tremendously good fortune Peter Parker had in receiving the augmentations/manifestations of spidery attributes that he did.
Consider his gifting: amazing strength and durability, augmented reactions, ability to adhere to and climb walls, webs spinning and his "spidey sense."
Why is it that Peter Parker only gets the good stuff? Consider some of the other possible attributes arachnae; independant mandbiles with poison laden fangs, 8 eyes, complete body hair, 8 seven-jointed legs, and the junk in the trunk: an enormous abdomen.
Similarly, his positive changes could have manifested very differently. What if his durability also came with an exoskeleton? How fortunate for him that his web slinging ability was in his wrists/hands and he doesn't just shoot spiderwebs out of his butt. (imagine him swinging around the city by his butt - doesn't quite inspire the same awe and respect, does it?)
[here I will grant my lack of superhero knowledge and say - I think in the 70's cartoon, he actually had a device that produced the spider silk for him, (market that Peter!) whereas in the recent movies, it was an anatomical feature. Which is true to the original, I do not know. But I do know that the mental image of spiderman swinging around by his butt is a irreducable souce of amusement for me]
So - Peter Parker: most fortunate of superheroes.
Though it's not shown, I'm sure he must have a strong penchant for eating flies.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
What Katrina Victims Taught Me
Most things here in New Orleans are not very well populated. There aren’t a lot of stores open, and many of the residents of some city sections are not back yet. Yet, there seem to be at least 2 places that are up and running - and very well populated.
In the first category are the churches. They have become recovery centers, food distribution points and temporary homes for out of state volunteers. Right now I am staying in a tent city run by a local group of churches. Good News Camp. There are 600 here. All kinds of people come here each day to be fed, cared for and ministered to.
In the second category are the bars. They are also well populated and may have been some of the first stores to be up and running. (judging by the quantity I’ve seen) They also attract people of all types. They are all over the city.
One could argue that, in some way, both of these places are serving the same purpose: escape from the pain of the present.
The bars offer something to numb that pain. Through alcohol, some people are able to escape from the depression, the loneliness, the hopelessness - by forgetting. Though only for a few hours, (or in some cases an entire evening)
The churches and relief efforts also offer an escape from the current pain. People let their hearts and minds escape to the future - to the possibility of something better than today.
They can move past their harsh present by dwelling on a better future.
Both means allow people to cope, but they are not equal.
Alcohol, though it may provide an escape, produces nothing. After the temporary relief, the user must return to the same reality - nothing has been done to change it. If the bars or the bottle are my method of dealing with unpleasant reality, there is little possibility of that reality changing. I will need to numb myself to that reality again tomorrow.
Faith and Hope, on the other hand, empower the heart to action. If I believe that a better day awaits me tomorrow and the day after that, I can participate in bringing it about now. I need not be debilitated by it. Hope trumps despair. It allows the bearer to continue on, fully acknowledging reality and moving despite it.
We had many opportunities to hear from some of the hardest hit residents of New Orleans. Some were deeply embittered. Some were defiantly hopeful. The contrast was wide.
Ida Mae, and elderly women whose home we gutted, told us about the 4 months she was away from New Orleans. She lived one week at a time in various places, than settled in for 2 months in Texas before she could come to a relative’s apartment in the city.
She was a hopeful one. She was fun to be with. She talked with us about how bright the future of her city could be. She was grateful for all that she still had. (it fit in one suitcase) She seemed to be grateful now for what had not yet come.
Others told us that if you live in New Orleans, you really need to drink in order to deal with it. They were not so hopeful. Nor were they very pleasant. They seemed to focus on what won’t fix itself and who was to blame. They could not see a better future. They had no hope, other than to avoid the problems.
I wish I were more like Ida Mae, but I fear I fall into the numbness category. I’m not living in a disaster zone but I don’t really need to be. I seek to escape and distract and numb myself from the shadowy parts of my life.
What if each of us faced the dark parts of ourselves with the perspective of faith and hope? What if we were unwilling to ignore, numb and distract ourselves from our own badness? Could we simultaneously acknowledge our 'sinfulness' and embrace a solution? (a whole other discussion is whether we need outside help to make it better!) What might the solution look like?
These things are worth thinking about - for all of us. And they are worth doing something about - for all of us.
In the first category are the churches. They have become recovery centers, food distribution points and temporary homes for out of state volunteers. Right now I am staying in a tent city run by a local group of churches. Good News Camp. There are 600 here. All kinds of people come here each day to be fed, cared for and ministered to.
In the second category are the bars. They are also well populated and may have been some of the first stores to be up and running. (judging by the quantity I’ve seen) They also attract people of all types. They are all over the city.
One could argue that, in some way, both of these places are serving the same purpose: escape from the pain of the present.
The bars offer something to numb that pain. Through alcohol, some people are able to escape from the depression, the loneliness, the hopelessness - by forgetting. Though only for a few hours, (or in some cases an entire evening)
The churches and relief efforts also offer an escape from the current pain. People let their hearts and minds escape to the future - to the possibility of something better than today.
They can move past their harsh present by dwelling on a better future.
Both means allow people to cope, but they are not equal.
Alcohol, though it may provide an escape, produces nothing. After the temporary relief, the user must return to the same reality - nothing has been done to change it. If the bars or the bottle are my method of dealing with unpleasant reality, there is little possibility of that reality changing. I will need to numb myself to that reality again tomorrow.
Faith and Hope, on the other hand, empower the heart to action. If I believe that a better day awaits me tomorrow and the day after that, I can participate in bringing it about now. I need not be debilitated by it. Hope trumps despair. It allows the bearer to continue on, fully acknowledging reality and moving despite it.
We had many opportunities to hear from some of the hardest hit residents of New Orleans. Some were deeply embittered. Some were defiantly hopeful. The contrast was wide.
Ida Mae, and elderly women whose home we gutted, told us about the 4 months she was away from New Orleans. She lived one week at a time in various places, than settled in for 2 months in Texas before she could come to a relative’s apartment in the city.
She was a hopeful one. She was fun to be with. She talked with us about how bright the future of her city could be. She was grateful for all that she still had. (it fit in one suitcase) She seemed to be grateful now for what had not yet come.
Others told us that if you live in New Orleans, you really need to drink in order to deal with it. They were not so hopeful. Nor were they very pleasant. They seemed to focus on what won’t fix itself and who was to blame. They could not see a better future. They had no hope, other than to avoid the problems.
I wish I were more like Ida Mae, but I fear I fall into the numbness category. I’m not living in a disaster zone but I don’t really need to be. I seek to escape and distract and numb myself from the shadowy parts of my life.
What if each of us faced the dark parts of ourselves with the perspective of faith and hope? What if we were unwilling to ignore, numb and distract ourselves from our own badness? Could we simultaneously acknowledge our 'sinfulness' and embrace a solution? (a whole other discussion is whether we need outside help to make it better!) What might the solution look like?
These things are worth thinking about - for all of us. And they are worth doing something about - for all of us.
Friday, February 03, 2006
What Doctors & Farmers Should Have in Common
This winter I found myself in an emergency room with a major poison ivy issue. (later I found out that it was something else) It was late at night, and the ER doctor was a little bit insulting.
Have you ever run into a cocky doctor? You know, the kind that presumes that they are an apex human being? Everyone else is certainly stupid or inferior by comparison. They are presumptuous, arrogant and think too highly of themselves and their skills.
This is not my opinion of doctors in general. There have been several in my family, and I have a half dozen friends who have recently completed Med School. They are great. Most doctors are wonderful, caring people. However, I find it curious when I see arrogance creeping in through their career choice.
Dear doctors: Your profession is on par with the humble farmer. Don't believe me?
Consider these similarities.
1. You, like a farmer, work with a complex life-system that you yourself do not create. It is pre-existent to your role. Neither you nor the farmer can take credit for it. You are working on something that was created outside of your influence. You can seek to understand it, but you cannot take credit for the system itself. You are mechanics.
2. You, like the farmer, must play by the rules of that pre-existent system. There are pre-set limits to what can and cannot be done, there are extant processes and timings and interactions that happen within that system. Neither you nor the farmer can fundamentally alter them. Your lines of work enhance, help or coerce processes that are already possible. Occasionally, you might be able to alter or suppress them, but you cannot create new ones.
3. You, like the farmer planting his seeds, do not fully understand or control the life process. You are environmentalists; you can create the most favorable conditions for your desired result, but you cannot make that result happen.
The farmer turns the soil, fertilizes, plants the seed and waters all in the right time frame but then he must wait - and hope. If the seed itself does not germinate, he has wasted his efforts. For all his soil preparation, control of conditions and timing, he cannot make that seed do what he hopes it will. It is not determined by him. He is at it's mercy because he is not ultimately in control.
Can you see the similarities with the humble doctor? Is it a more complicated system? Yes. Granted, there is much study and knowledge to be acquired, but at its foundation, the doctor does all he can to create an environment favorable to healing and good health, but he does all that and waits. He hopes. He is also dependent on that pre-existent life system to do what it should.
He may aid, augment, replace, remove, medicate and manipulate but he still is dependent on the system itself.
Happily for us all, most times the seed does sprout, grow and mature. Happily for us the body often heals, responds and recovers. I am glad for the environmentalists who raise the likelihood of food and health, but I do not think that they (or we) should move past the reality that we are all dependent - no matter how much we know.
We are not the creator, we are gardeners - and this from the very start of it all.
Have you ever run into a cocky doctor? You know, the kind that presumes that they are an apex human being? Everyone else is certainly stupid or inferior by comparison. They are presumptuous, arrogant and think too highly of themselves and their skills.
This is not my opinion of doctors in general. There have been several in my family, and I have a half dozen friends who have recently completed Med School. They are great. Most doctors are wonderful, caring people. However, I find it curious when I see arrogance creeping in through their career choice.
Dear doctors: Your profession is on par with the humble farmer. Don't believe me?
Consider these similarities.
1. You, like a farmer, work with a complex life-system that you yourself do not create. It is pre-existent to your role. Neither you nor the farmer can take credit for it. You are working on something that was created outside of your influence. You can seek to understand it, but you cannot take credit for the system itself. You are mechanics.
2. You, like the farmer, must play by the rules of that pre-existent system. There are pre-set limits to what can and cannot be done, there are extant processes and timings and interactions that happen within that system. Neither you nor the farmer can fundamentally alter them. Your lines of work enhance, help or coerce processes that are already possible. Occasionally, you might be able to alter or suppress them, but you cannot create new ones.
3. You, like the farmer planting his seeds, do not fully understand or control the life process. You are environmentalists; you can create the most favorable conditions for your desired result, but you cannot make that result happen.
The farmer turns the soil, fertilizes, plants the seed and waters all in the right time frame but then he must wait - and hope. If the seed itself does not germinate, he has wasted his efforts. For all his soil preparation, control of conditions and timing, he cannot make that seed do what he hopes it will. It is not determined by him. He is at it's mercy because he is not ultimately in control.
Can you see the similarities with the humble doctor? Is it a more complicated system? Yes. Granted, there is much study and knowledge to be acquired, but at its foundation, the doctor does all he can to create an environment favorable to healing and good health, but he does all that and waits. He hopes. He is also dependent on that pre-existent life system to do what it should.
He may aid, augment, replace, remove, medicate and manipulate but he still is dependent on the system itself.
Happily for us all, most times the seed does sprout, grow and mature. Happily for us the body often heals, responds and recovers. I am glad for the environmentalists who raise the likelihood of food and health, but I do not think that they (or we) should move past the reality that we are all dependent - no matter how much we know.
We are not the creator, we are gardeners - and this from the very start of it all.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Cookie Monsta
My wife was away at a retreat for a few days this week and I was on Dad duty - all on my own. I actually love it. Would do it full time if I could. We have a great time together. (I do, anyhow!)
While we were watching Sesame Street, I had an epiphany: Cookie Monster sounds an aweful lot like I'd imagine Gov. Arnold Schwarzeneggar would with laryngitis and sugar-induced excitability.
Don't know what that means, but I just needed to point it out. I will enjoy the show more now.
(Dat good Coookie!!!)
While we were watching Sesame Street, I had an epiphany: Cookie Monster sounds an aweful lot like I'd imagine Gov. Arnold Schwarzeneggar would with laryngitis and sugar-induced excitability.
Don't know what that means, but I just needed to point it out. I will enjoy the show more now.
(Dat good Coookie!!!)
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Defrost Me
Hello imaginary reader!
It's nearly February and for the most part the weather has been unusually mild thus far. One snow, a couple short stretches of bitter cold, but all in all - not bad. Just today I was out in a sweatshirt with my 1.5 year old kicking around his mini soccer ball. Spring like! Yay.
A few years ago my wife and I bought a van. It was a total God-send. We had a newborn baby, my wife was staying home, I was commuting 30 minutes and it just made no sense to leave her car-less. Driving me to work everyday felt too much like middle school when I constantly had to bum rides from my Mom - usually when I missed the bus by 3 minutes.
The Van has been great. We had 1000 bucks. We asked a mechanic friend to be on the lookout for something coming in that looked good and was in good shape. He said that never happens, but ok.
I kid you not - 2 day later an old lady shows up with a 1990 Voyager: 91,000 miles, in great shape, No mechanical problems...etc. She says to our friend "Do you know anyone who wants to buy my van? I just drive it to church on Sundays and I'd like to get around $1000 dollars for it." Main reason she's selling; "it's a little to high for me to get into very well anymore."
We picked it up that night.
The lady was sweet and thrilled that we were so excited about it. We were grateful that barely prayed prayers had been answered. Suddenly and weirdly cool.
The one drawback is this: The van has no heat. On particularly cold days it's brutal. I've been an unhappy combination of too poor/too cheap to get it fixed. I drive that one in the winter. The fam won't get near it.
I'm quite a sight on the highways. Really. I look like Kenny from SouthPark. (please don't watch that show) I look like I'm trekking to the north pole, with just my eyes showing from an enormous puffy coat.
Several of my senses become muted, or mooted. (not a word) I'm practically deaf. Less protected portions of my body become uncomfortably numb. I have zero peripheral vision. Sometimes I just pull my hood back a little to see if I'm about to cut someone off. On really cold days I don't. (sorry)
But - it's Pennsylvania. It will not always be cold. I'm grateful for the van, but I don't treat it so well. Not like our Jetta, which we paid nearly new prices for. So, I do wonder if there is some kind of inverted principle at work here.
Jesus once told a story to illustrate love and gratitude. Who loves more? Someone forgiven a little bit, or someone forgiven enormously? Great story, but convicting.
I can't help but wonder if I would take better care of the gift-van if I had paid 10,000 for it rather than 1000. This makes me worry about my own gratitude level. The van was quite a gift, but I don't always see it this way. I often think - well, we don't need to do XX for the van - we only paid 1000 for it.
Why is it that I still remain most concerned about the things that have the most benefit to me? It's as if my response is dictated by my perception of return and investment. How much do I do that with my relationships? My parents? My wife? My kid? What about systems that I've benefited from? Schools, teachers, pastors? What about God?
I am pretty sure that I am called to a different economy. It's hard, but its true. I'm called the be other centered. To be compassionate with friends and enemies. To care for others in need. Help the orphans, the widows. To be a giver, not a taker.
If I'm too wrapped up in what I can afford, or what is helping me - I'll miss the point. I'll miss the sweetest portions of life. I want to live as a grateful person. A giver. That's hard sometimes.
Right not my son treats every little gift we give him as if we have given him the whole world. We hand him a wooden spoon to play with, and he's THRILLED. He wears those expressions right there for us to see, and that response thrills us. We love giving him good gifts because he really appreciates it. He beams and it is our delight and joy.
For me as an 'adult' I forget that - on both ends.
On the receiving end - I can be genuinely glad, grateful and overjoyed that people and God give me gift of all kinds. How cool it is to be a recipient of someone else's good will and kindness.
On the giving end - I want to have that effect on people. Bring them joy and gladness. Be the giver of good will and kindness.
It seems to me that if I do one well, I'll be likely to do both pretty well. One feeds the other.
So, me, quit playing down the gifts. Get excited and grateful over how good people are to you. Let that spark your desire to do things to make others glad. Even if I don't get the heat the van fixed, I need to make sure my little heart is the one body part that doesn't become cold.
It's nearly February and for the most part the weather has been unusually mild thus far. One snow, a couple short stretches of bitter cold, but all in all - not bad. Just today I was out in a sweatshirt with my 1.5 year old kicking around his mini soccer ball. Spring like! Yay.
A few years ago my wife and I bought a van. It was a total God-send. We had a newborn baby, my wife was staying home, I was commuting 30 minutes and it just made no sense to leave her car-less. Driving me to work everyday felt too much like middle school when I constantly had to bum rides from my Mom - usually when I missed the bus by 3 minutes.
The Van has been great. We had 1000 bucks. We asked a mechanic friend to be on the lookout for something coming in that looked good and was in good shape. He said that never happens, but ok.
I kid you not - 2 day later an old lady shows up with a 1990 Voyager: 91,000 miles, in great shape, No mechanical problems...etc. She says to our friend "Do you know anyone who wants to buy my van? I just drive it to church on Sundays and I'd like to get around $1000 dollars for it." Main reason she's selling; "it's a little to high for me to get into very well anymore."
We picked it up that night.
The lady was sweet and thrilled that we were so excited about it. We were grateful that barely prayed prayers had been answered. Suddenly and weirdly cool.
The one drawback is this: The van has no heat. On particularly cold days it's brutal. I've been an unhappy combination of too poor/too cheap to get it fixed. I drive that one in the winter. The fam won't get near it.
I'm quite a sight on the highways. Really. I look like Kenny from SouthPark. (please don't watch that show) I look like I'm trekking to the north pole, with just my eyes showing from an enormous puffy coat.
Several of my senses become muted, or mooted. (not a word) I'm practically deaf. Less protected portions of my body become uncomfortably numb. I have zero peripheral vision. Sometimes I just pull my hood back a little to see if I'm about to cut someone off. On really cold days I don't. (sorry)
But - it's Pennsylvania. It will not always be cold. I'm grateful for the van, but I don't treat it so well. Not like our Jetta, which we paid nearly new prices for. So, I do wonder if there is some kind of inverted principle at work here.
Jesus once told a story to illustrate love and gratitude. Who loves more? Someone forgiven a little bit, or someone forgiven enormously? Great story, but convicting.
I can't help but wonder if I would take better care of the gift-van if I had paid 10,000 for it rather than 1000. This makes me worry about my own gratitude level. The van was quite a gift, but I don't always see it this way. I often think - well, we don't need to do XX for the van - we only paid 1000 for it.
Why is it that I still remain most concerned about the things that have the most benefit to me? It's as if my response is dictated by my perception of return and investment. How much do I do that with my relationships? My parents? My wife? My kid? What about systems that I've benefited from? Schools, teachers, pastors? What about God?
I am pretty sure that I am called to a different economy. It's hard, but its true. I'm called the be other centered. To be compassionate with friends and enemies. To care for others in need. Help the orphans, the widows. To be a giver, not a taker.
If I'm too wrapped up in what I can afford, or what is helping me - I'll miss the point. I'll miss the sweetest portions of life. I want to live as a grateful person. A giver. That's hard sometimes.
Right not my son treats every little gift we give him as if we have given him the whole world. We hand him a wooden spoon to play with, and he's THRILLED. He wears those expressions right there for us to see, and that response thrills us. We love giving him good gifts because he really appreciates it. He beams and it is our delight and joy.
For me as an 'adult' I forget that - on both ends.
On the receiving end - I can be genuinely glad, grateful and overjoyed that people and God give me gift of all kinds. How cool it is to be a recipient of someone else's good will and kindness.
On the giving end - I want to have that effect on people. Bring them joy and gladness. Be the giver of good will and kindness.
It seems to me that if I do one well, I'll be likely to do both pretty well. One feeds the other.
So, me, quit playing down the gifts. Get excited and grateful over how good people are to you. Let that spark your desire to do things to make others glad. Even if I don't get the heat the van fixed, I need to make sure my little heart is the one body part that doesn't become cold.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
The Age of Hyperbole
This is probably the greatest blog entry ever.
Or...at least I could claim that it's true.
Have you noticed that kind of phrase on TV and in advertisements? These days we are in the Age of Hyperbole: A figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect.
I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone say during a football game, or basketball game (...insert sport here) something to the effect of "This freshmen, or rookie.. blah blah... is probably one of the greatest athletes of the 20th century." or "this play will go down as one of the most remarkable ones in history."
Or TV commercials. Gosh. If you can remove yourself from their carefully crafted spell, they're really quite ridiculous. The greatest sale ever, the opportunity of a lifetime, it vastly improves the quality of my life. (How a garlic chopper improves the basic quality of life for someone, I have no idea. Heck, if that's true hand them out to the poor. Ship them to 3rd world countries. Except, garlic chopper are made in 3rd world countries?...Umm...) On and on.
So what. This isn't a big deal, it's just stressing the point they're trying to make, right? No harm done.
Well - maybe. But when it gets to the point that everyone is trying to accentuate their position by exaggeration, won't we lose our grip on truthfulness? Take for example the phenomenon of "shock." on TV. You know what I mean. Some network promises that this next episode will be so shocking...you know the speil.
The thing is, that as more and more people try to draw you in with shock, you, the sap headed viewer become decreasingly sensitive to that shock. So they have to do something more shocking. Which you will later, probably become desensitized to. But then everyone tries to use it to draw you in.
When I think of this one, I think of the whole lesbian/gay thing on TV. At first, just having a gay character was a shock. Fast forward and we have gay kissing on some shows (gross) and, not just a token gay character, but shows built around homosexuality. This is not good for anyone, not good at all. (I hear that it is now illegal and discriminatory to make negative comments about homosexuals or homosexuality in Canada. So, cousins in the great white north, you're welcome to come after me - but as of recently you'll have to have a passport to get across the line. Deal with it, A.)
Beyond big picture moral stuff, think of the effect on communication. Consider the resume. It is now so endemic that people exaggerate on their experience, abilities and character, that certain aspects of resumes have become unhelpful. If you can make you're burger joint experience sound profoundly remarkable, what am I to think? What's really real. Who's really the person I want? A truthful and helpful resume would probably get the shaft. So hyperbole becomes a requirement if you want to have a chance.
So - in my mind, I think the age of hyperbole is a bit annoying, if not harmful. Why can't we just speak plainly and truthfully about things. Call things what they really are. When does true truth get a shot? That seems more helpful to me. But, you might say, it's human nature to exaggerate, and try to make things we're invested in - especially ourselves - seem better than they are.
Sure, I would say, but it sounds more like a problem with humanity in general than with this particular time in history. These days we're just more slick at bending things. We're all shaders of truth.
Straight shooters might just call it lying. Isn't that shocking?
Or...at least I could claim that it's true.
Have you noticed that kind of phrase on TV and in advertisements? These days we are in the Age of Hyperbole: A figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect.
I can't tell you how many times I've heard someone say during a football game, or basketball game (...insert sport here) something to the effect of "This freshmen, or rookie.. blah blah... is probably one of the greatest athletes of the 20th century." or "this play will go down as one of the most remarkable ones in history."
Or TV commercials. Gosh. If you can remove yourself from their carefully crafted spell, they're really quite ridiculous. The greatest sale ever, the opportunity of a lifetime, it vastly improves the quality of my life. (How a garlic chopper improves the basic quality of life for someone, I have no idea. Heck, if that's true hand them out to the poor. Ship them to 3rd world countries. Except, garlic chopper are made in 3rd world countries?...Umm...) On and on.
So what. This isn't a big deal, it's just stressing the point they're trying to make, right? No harm done.
Well - maybe. But when it gets to the point that everyone is trying to accentuate their position by exaggeration, won't we lose our grip on truthfulness? Take for example the phenomenon of "shock." on TV. You know what I mean. Some network promises that this next episode will be so shocking...you know the speil.
The thing is, that as more and more people try to draw you in with shock, you, the sap headed viewer become decreasingly sensitive to that shock. So they have to do something more shocking. Which you will later, probably become desensitized to. But then everyone tries to use it to draw you in.
When I think of this one, I think of the whole lesbian/gay thing on TV. At first, just having a gay character was a shock. Fast forward and we have gay kissing on some shows (gross) and, not just a token gay character, but shows built around homosexuality. This is not good for anyone, not good at all. (I hear that it is now illegal and discriminatory to make negative comments about homosexuals or homosexuality in Canada. So, cousins in the great white north, you're welcome to come after me - but as of recently you'll have to have a passport to get across the line. Deal with it, A.)
Beyond big picture moral stuff, think of the effect on communication. Consider the resume. It is now so endemic that people exaggerate on their experience, abilities and character, that certain aspects of resumes have become unhelpful. If you can make you're burger joint experience sound profoundly remarkable, what am I to think? What's really real. Who's really the person I want? A truthful and helpful resume would probably get the shaft. So hyperbole becomes a requirement if you want to have a chance.
So - in my mind, I think the age of hyperbole is a bit annoying, if not harmful. Why can't we just speak plainly and truthfully about things. Call things what they really are. When does true truth get a shot? That seems more helpful to me. But, you might say, it's human nature to exaggerate, and try to make things we're invested in - especially ourselves - seem better than they are.
Sure, I would say, but it sounds more like a problem with humanity in general than with this particular time in history. These days we're just more slick at bending things. We're all shaders of truth.
Straight shooters might just call it lying. Isn't that shocking?
Friday, January 06, 2006
Minor Addictions, Major Profits
I have been embittered by reality.
Not long ago I met with a friend from high school. We hadn't seen each other for quite some time, so there was a good deal of life to catch up on. I enjoyed meeting her husband who is a pretty cool guy. Good time with us all together.
An interesting factoid came up during our conversation that has been bugging me ever since. He has ruined my enjoyment of gourmet coffee drinks. He used to work as a barrista at Starbucks, and he let me in on a little secret.
I'm not much for coffee, but I am minorly addicted to caffeine. (Maybe it's major?) Since I don't like coffee for the most part I have to use other vehicles for getting that drug into my system. But - the one drink I actually do like (quite a bit I'm afraid) at Starbucks is their Fappuccino.
I mentioned the above facts to my new friend, which prompted him to spring the secret on me. "Hey - take a guess what a medium Frappuccino costs Starbucks"
Here we enter into a pre-existing point of bitterness for me. I already resent paying what I considered to be a ridiculous price for something I see them putting mostly ice into! But I'm dumb enough to pay it.
My best jaded guess was around a buck. I thought "Hey, they charge around 3 or 4 bucks, and that seemed like a pretty hefty profit margin."
Apparently I am insufficiently crass. I guessed way too high. According to my friend, the medium Frapp costs this exorbitant bean company just 25 cents. This includes the cup, the straw and the works. 25 cents! Do the math. If I buy a $0.25 drink and pay $4. That means, for frapps, that for every $1 they put out, they will get $16 back. A profit of 15 times the cost! Wow.
Now, I'm even more bitter when the Starbucks urge strikes. In fact, I find it hard to justify giving them that much of my money and have stopped to get a drink less frequently. (I have NEVER bought food there. Cookies are like, $20 each) Now it feels like I'm making a corporate donation when I but something there.
There are at least 3 things that this drives me to conclude.
1. I have a greater appreciation for the bartering system in other countries. Perhaps in China I could go to a starbucks, have them tell me the total, laugh, then start trying to work the price down. I bet that I could get them down to a reasonable level - perhaps getting 2 Frapps for the price I normally pay for one. I could try this here, but I think they would be the ones laughing.
(I guess they're already laughing now...all the way to the bank!)
2. Caffeine is an addictive substance. This I already knew, but the reality that millions of Americans will go out of their way on a daily basis to shell out an extraordinary amount of cash for an inexpensive beverage points to some kind of addictive substance. Who, unmedicated and sober, would knowingly cough that much moolah up for a cup of chocolate, bean water and ice? Chemical dependence is no joke.
subpoint 2.5 - this is why caffeine-free coke sucks.
3. I have grown in assertiveness. I am normally pretty understating and relaxed about other people's mistakes - perhaps a little too much empathy, not enough antipathy. The one good thing about this new eye-opening knowledge is that when the Starbucks barristas and barristos and barristoids mess something up, you better believe that I'm going to make them replace it, or make it right. I better get their best stuff when I make my $3.75 donation.
Not long ago I met with a friend from high school. We hadn't seen each other for quite some time, so there was a good deal of life to catch up on. I enjoyed meeting her husband who is a pretty cool guy. Good time with us all together.
An interesting factoid came up during our conversation that has been bugging me ever since. He has ruined my enjoyment of gourmet coffee drinks. He used to work as a barrista at Starbucks, and he let me in on a little secret.
I'm not much for coffee, but I am minorly addicted to caffeine. (Maybe it's major?) Since I don't like coffee for the most part I have to use other vehicles for getting that drug into my system. But - the one drink I actually do like (quite a bit I'm afraid) at Starbucks is their Fappuccino.
I mentioned the above facts to my new friend, which prompted him to spring the secret on me. "Hey - take a guess what a medium Frappuccino costs Starbucks"
Here we enter into a pre-existing point of bitterness for me. I already resent paying what I considered to be a ridiculous price for something I see them putting mostly ice into! But I'm dumb enough to pay it.
My best jaded guess was around a buck. I thought "Hey, they charge around 3 or 4 bucks, and that seemed like a pretty hefty profit margin."
Apparently I am insufficiently crass. I guessed way too high. According to my friend, the medium Frapp costs this exorbitant bean company just 25 cents. This includes the cup, the straw and the works. 25 cents! Do the math. If I buy a $0.25 drink and pay $4. That means, for frapps, that for every $1 they put out, they will get $16 back. A profit of 15 times the cost! Wow.
Now, I'm even more bitter when the Starbucks urge strikes. In fact, I find it hard to justify giving them that much of my money and have stopped to get a drink less frequently. (I have NEVER bought food there. Cookies are like, $20 each) Now it feels like I'm making a corporate donation when I but something there.
There are at least 3 things that this drives me to conclude.
1. I have a greater appreciation for the bartering system in other countries. Perhaps in China I could go to a starbucks, have them tell me the total, laugh, then start trying to work the price down. I bet that I could get them down to a reasonable level - perhaps getting 2 Frapps for the price I normally pay for one. I could try this here, but I think they would be the ones laughing.
(I guess they're already laughing now...all the way to the bank!)
2. Caffeine is an addictive substance. This I already knew, but the reality that millions of Americans will go out of their way on a daily basis to shell out an extraordinary amount of cash for an inexpensive beverage points to some kind of addictive substance. Who, unmedicated and sober, would knowingly cough that much moolah up for a cup of chocolate, bean water and ice? Chemical dependence is no joke.
subpoint 2.5 - this is why caffeine-free coke sucks.
3. I have grown in assertiveness. I am normally pretty understating and relaxed about other people's mistakes - perhaps a little too much empathy, not enough antipathy. The one good thing about this new eye-opening knowledge is that when the Starbucks barristas and barristos and barristoids mess something up, you better believe that I'm going to make them replace it, or make it right. I better get their best stuff when I make my $3.75 donation.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
The Dangerously Tyrannical Nature of Open-Mindedness
OK, this one is a rant. (I'm not fond of rants)
I am really surprised at the ruling by a federal judge in the matter of the Dover, PA fight over a 30 second statement in the public school system. The school board mandated that the following should be read once at the beginning of the sections about Darwinistic Evolution:
from the Associated Press:
Text of the statement on intelligent design that Dover Area High School administrators had been reading to students at the start of biology lessons on evolution:
"The Pennsylvania Academic Standards require students to learn about Darwin's theory of evolution and eventually to take a standardized test of which evolution is a part.
"Because Darwin's theory is a theory, it continues to be tested as new evidence is discovered. The theory is not a fact. Gaps in the theory exist for which there is no evidence. A theory is defined as a well-tested explanation that unifies a broad range of observations.
"Intelligent design is an explanation of the origin of life that differs from Darwin's view. The reference book, 'Of Pandas and People,' is available in the library along with other resources for students who might be interested in gaining an understanding of what intelligent design actually involves.
"With respect to any theory, students are encouraged to keep an open mind. The school leaves the discussion of the origins of life to individual students and their families. As a standards-driven district, class instruction focuses upon preparing students to achieve proficiency on standards-based assessments."
Wow - please note the abundance of deviously designed rhetoric to undermine science. Ugh. Let me summarize:
You are about to learn about the theory of evolution. Theories are not proven, but give tested explanations and are open to more evidence and adjustment. There is another school of thought about our origins, which you may look into on your own time, called Intelligent Design. There is a book in the library about it, but that area is for your own pursuit and your family's. Keep an open mind. We are standards driven and will prepare you to know evolutionary theory.
Or, let me give you the short short version. "We're about to teach on Evolution. Some people have another idea, which if you are curious about you may study on your own. Up to you, but we test you on evolution."
Now THAT, is one insipid and nefarious statement.
The part that seems especially threatening is having an open mind. We can't have that. If evolution is the best theory, why would people be so threatened about other viewpoints. What's also interesting is that the statement says "The school leaves the discussion of the origins of life to individual students and their families" - with the notable exception of evolution. That origin of life viewpoint is mandated, and apparently not open to evaluation or competition.
No - what we really need, in regard to this issue, is a closed mind. Nothing else in there. We can't have any heretics bringing in false theories and beliefs. (Sounds like a religious person's viewpoint to me)
An open mind is simply too dangerous to be encouraged. People might be duped into thinking they have options. Or duped into thinking for themselves. I don't really care what the conclude about the subject. I care that they cannot even mention that you have an option, or point toward something else. Open mindedness - too dangerous to encourage or sanction.
Good thing no one will read this! I might be in trouble.
I am really surprised at the ruling by a federal judge in the matter of the Dover, PA fight over a 30 second statement in the public school system. The school board mandated that the following should be read once at the beginning of the sections about Darwinistic Evolution:
from the Associated Press:
Text of the statement on intelligent design that Dover Area High School administrators had been reading to students at the start of biology lessons on evolution:
"The Pennsylvania Academic Standards require students to learn about Darwin's theory of evolution and eventually to take a standardized test of which evolution is a part.
"Because Darwin's theory is a theory, it continues to be tested as new evidence is discovered. The theory is not a fact. Gaps in the theory exist for which there is no evidence. A theory is defined as a well-tested explanation that unifies a broad range of observations.
"Intelligent design is an explanation of the origin of life that differs from Darwin's view. The reference book, 'Of Pandas and People,' is available in the library along with other resources for students who might be interested in gaining an understanding of what intelligent design actually involves.
"With respect to any theory, students are encouraged to keep an open mind. The school leaves the discussion of the origins of life to individual students and their families. As a standards-driven district, class instruction focuses upon preparing students to achieve proficiency on standards-based assessments."
Wow - please note the abundance of deviously designed rhetoric to undermine science. Ugh. Let me summarize:
You are about to learn about the theory of evolution. Theories are not proven, but give tested explanations and are open to more evidence and adjustment. There is another school of thought about our origins, which you may look into on your own time, called Intelligent Design. There is a book in the library about it, but that area is for your own pursuit and your family's. Keep an open mind. We are standards driven and will prepare you to know evolutionary theory.
Or, let me give you the short short version. "We're about to teach on Evolution. Some people have another idea, which if you are curious about you may study on your own. Up to you, but we test you on evolution."
Now THAT, is one insipid and nefarious statement.
The part that seems especially threatening is having an open mind. We can't have that. If evolution is the best theory, why would people be so threatened about other viewpoints. What's also interesting is that the statement says "The school leaves the discussion of the origins of life to individual students and their families" - with the notable exception of evolution. That origin of life viewpoint is mandated, and apparently not open to evaluation or competition.
No - what we really need, in regard to this issue, is a closed mind. Nothing else in there. We can't have any heretics bringing in false theories and beliefs. (Sounds like a religious person's viewpoint to me)
An open mind is simply too dangerous to be encouraged. People might be duped into thinking they have options. Or duped into thinking for themselves. I don't really care what the conclude about the subject. I care that they cannot even mention that you have an option, or point toward something else. Open mindedness - too dangerous to encourage or sanction.
Good thing no one will read this! I might be in trouble.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Preponderances O Conferences
I've not written here for some time. Though, since I've written so little this could hardly be considered a break in my "normal" pattern of blogging. What does normal mean anyhow?
I think part of the reason for not writing, besides laziness or addiction to Halo, is the fact that my job has had a ridiculous number of conferences in the last 2 months. Here's the quick list:
I've been to Western PA, Southern VA, Coastal NJ, Central IN. In the coming several months I will be to Washington DC, a woodsy retreat center in PA, New Orleans, West Virginia and a couple I probably don't see coming.
What is it about the concept of a conference that makes it seem like the answer to problems, or communication?
The word conference itself defines what those times should be about. Conference comes from the word confer which means: To meet in order to deliberate together or compare views; consult
Though on one hand I find it irritating that I've had so many conferences recently - meaning, in the last 10 years - I must say that I also find it interesting when I think about human communication.
It seems that we were designed for face to face communication. With all the technologies and mediums we have now in this "communication age" it seems that we can't get away from the need or desire or efficiency that comes from actual human interaction.
No email, video conference, phone call or satellite hookup can compare with the efficacy and efficiency of human interaction and conversation.
In fact - to be fair - I think that this personal contact becomes even more important these days. I think of my email. I get a barrage of them all day. They range from inept and misspelled attempts to get me to enlarge my manhood, to notes from people I love. The bulk of them are people trying to communicate something important for me to do, or send, or talk about. But what happens is that I get so many of those impersonal requests, that they are mostly lost on me. I don't have time to answer this somewhat important email because I have to get through the other 30 that could be important. Gross.
It's now become so easy to communicate so little with so many. Isn't technology great?!
No - I need to have conversations with other humans. In person is best. I'm moved to action, to inter-action and to be able to communicate and say yes or no right there. They have to ask for things of me to my face, and - because it's a human relationship - I have the ability to change, refuse or modify expectations. Not so with email edicts.
I also have the advantage of being able to hear and talk about the heart and reasons behind the views and jobs I'm given from my bosses and colleagues. It's not just some "do this" thing, it's attached to people I care about, and want to help.
I guess my complaint about my preponderance of conferences then is this: I like the interactions, but I'd prefer to have them here at home. It's more the travel and time away from my normal interactions that I resent, rather than the interaction and the facile nature of communications there. I think I'll have a better attitude if I keep that in mind.
So, If you want to interact with me on this point or have some comments - just drop me an email. I'll probably read it, and just might - might reply.
I think part of the reason for not writing, besides laziness or addiction to Halo, is the fact that my job has had a ridiculous number of conferences in the last 2 months. Here's the quick list:
I've been to Western PA, Southern VA, Coastal NJ, Central IN. In the coming several months I will be to Washington DC, a woodsy retreat center in PA, New Orleans, West Virginia and a couple I probably don't see coming.
What is it about the concept of a conference that makes it seem like the answer to problems, or communication?
The word conference itself defines what those times should be about. Conference comes from the word confer which means: To meet in order to deliberate together or compare views; consult
Though on one hand I find it irritating that I've had so many conferences recently - meaning, in the last 10 years - I must say that I also find it interesting when I think about human communication.
It seems that we were designed for face to face communication. With all the technologies and mediums we have now in this "communication age" it seems that we can't get away from the need or desire or efficiency that comes from actual human interaction.
No email, video conference, phone call or satellite hookup can compare with the efficacy and efficiency of human interaction and conversation.
In fact - to be fair - I think that this personal contact becomes even more important these days. I think of my email. I get a barrage of them all day. They range from inept and misspelled attempts to get me to enlarge my manhood, to notes from people I love. The bulk of them are people trying to communicate something important for me to do, or send, or talk about. But what happens is that I get so many of those impersonal requests, that they are mostly lost on me. I don't have time to answer this somewhat important email because I have to get through the other 30 that could be important. Gross.
It's now become so easy to communicate so little with so many. Isn't technology great?!
No - I need to have conversations with other humans. In person is best. I'm moved to action, to inter-action and to be able to communicate and say yes or no right there. They have to ask for things of me to my face, and - because it's a human relationship - I have the ability to change, refuse or modify expectations. Not so with email edicts.
I also have the advantage of being able to hear and talk about the heart and reasons behind the views and jobs I'm given from my bosses and colleagues. It's not just some "do this" thing, it's attached to people I care about, and want to help.
I guess my complaint about my preponderance of conferences then is this: I like the interactions, but I'd prefer to have them here at home. It's more the travel and time away from my normal interactions that I resent, rather than the interaction and the facile nature of communications there. I think I'll have a better attitude if I keep that in mind.
So, If you want to interact with me on this point or have some comments - just drop me an email. I'll probably read it, and just might - might reply.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Death Row Community College
This past week I was scoping out a small community college in southern Virginia.
The name of the school is John Tyler Community College. Who was John Tyler, you might ask? (as I did) You might need to brush up on your American History (as I do) for he was the 10th President of the United States. Who knew? (though I actually have heard the slogan they used to promote him; "Tippacanoe and Tyler Too." Catchy. I might vote for him in the next presidential election. Why not? If dead people can vote, http://www.citypaper.net/articles/101295/article009.shtml why not vote for dead people?)
So after clearing that up, I and a couple co-workers set out to give out some Freebies on campus. Alas - the administration wouldn't allow it. More accurately, the person who does allow that kind of thing was in Holland digging for tulips or something. The people there were unwilling or unable to give us permission to distribute some free stuff - which could be a blog topic in itself. But hey - who gets paid to do more than they have to do to get paid?
So, in lieu of actually giving out unauthorized freebies, we thought we'd informally survey a few students. I began the conversation with 2 guys sitting on some couches outside their classroom. Before I knew what was going on, everyone attending an English class was there. Interesting mix of people. Interesting mix of conversations.
Tattoo Dude: "Hey - did you guys do the reading for today?"
Several people between the ages of 18 and 67: "what?! There was an assignment? Explicative."
Tatoo: "yeah - it's on page 125."
18-67 Year Olds: "zip. flp flip flip. Ok - lemme skim it."
Someone quoted part of the article which said - I kid you not "No one is really poor. They're just pre-rich." Brilliant. Perhaps this guy thinks the starving-poor of the world are also not actually malnourished - they're just pre-dead.
In another section of this crowd, there was a conversation between a guy who looked like his name should be Gunther and the very small but sassy crippled girl. They were making fun of each other. I shall leave this up you your imagination. Surreal.
In the midst of this fray, I tried to ask a couple questions. A few of the students responded - some with anecdotal references to the Family Guy, and some with real responses. Several were pretty surprised to hear that John Tyler was a president of the US. Then, Gunther began to read some internet webpages he had printed out. They were letters from Death Row Inmates, and they were pleas for penpals. He read them out loud to the group.
These letters spoke of the intense loneliness of men slated to die. Some spent 23 hours a day in solitary. They were very honest and desperate, yearning for someone to write them. They were hungry for someone to bring some meaning or significance into their world; someone, anyone who would dialogue with them by way of letters. Their present isolation from society seemed even more severe for the fact that ultimate separation was coming on a known date and time. To me, these pleas for connection sounded like requests for some kind of last meal for their souls. One more good thing before the end.
I felt so sad. But that changed very quickly.
In response to these naked cries for human connection, Gunther (who was apparently the apex Community College English student) began to make fun of their grammar and spelling. He mocked them for their poor parts of speech, for their apparent lack of educational prowess. "Ha ha! They are so stupid! Listen to this one!"
Unbelievable. Apparently Gunther could only see the ink on the page. Behind those molecule-thick markings were men who were dying, and all he seemed to care about was pointing out their lack of writing ability. Wow.
I really wanted to say something, but just then the class opened up and everyone shuffled off. What would I have said anyhow? "You selfish jerk!! Don't you care about other people, you moron!?" Hardly a compelling prod toward empathy.
But, this was one of my better moments of empathy. I felt sad for Gunther's callousness, and I felt sad for the desperate inmates. Right then I could see a contrast between his bad reaction and the response that I was having. But to be honest, I'm not really sure how many good moments I have.
If I had to bet, I would wager that the majority of people are hungry for connection. Most of us are at best somewhat relationally malnourished. Sure, we all have lots of events and technologies and people around us to make us feel connected and filled. But my impression is that few of us really connect on that deep soul-nourishing level that we all hope for.
The thing is, unlike those inmates, it seems that few of us really relate how needful we really are. We're too proud to be honest. There is strike one against my day to day empathy for others. They aren't very open about it, so I'm less likely to recognize it.
Strike two for me is that I know this. If I stop and think about it, I know that people want to be pursued and loved. But I forget this (willfully maybe?) and pretend like everyone is fine - if not in my inner view, at least in my outward expression. I'm the callous one.
Strike three for me is that I'm the Gunther. Oh sure - maybe I'll react well to those desperate cries for help, but most people aren't that vulnerable. So I'm not that empathetic. In fact - often times I'm the one who's making fun of other people. Occasionally for grammar, but more for smaller things. The way they talk, their personality quirks and shortcomings, their job performance, physical appearance, the way they drive. (Empathy is the emotional roadkill of the highways. If you could hear what I think about other drivers!)
In short - I need a double shot of humility. I'm getting that, slowly. I'm being worked on, and am way better than I used to be. Still need work though. I want to have the kind of humility and empathy that I had for those prisoners with the average Joe. I want to want to connect with the heart of the average guy walking down the street, or my neighbor. I was to be that kind of a person.
But what about you? I'm curious what things for you have made you more empathetic. What gives you the courage to reach out to others? I'd really love to know. If you love other people - what is it that gives you that? And I'm wondering if you're deeply, richly connected with anyone. Are you? Hey - I'd love it if you were my penpal. Lord knows I need more honest connection. Perhaps you do as well.
The name of the school is John Tyler Community College. Who was John Tyler, you might ask? (as I did) You might need to brush up on your American History (as I do) for he was the 10th President of the United States. Who knew? (though I actually have heard the slogan they used to promote him; "Tippacanoe and Tyler Too." Catchy. I might vote for him in the next presidential election. Why not? If dead people can vote, http://www.citypaper.net/articles/101295/article009.shtml why not vote for dead people?)
So after clearing that up, I and a couple co-workers set out to give out some Freebies on campus. Alas - the administration wouldn't allow it. More accurately, the person who does allow that kind of thing was in Holland digging for tulips or something. The people there were unwilling or unable to give us permission to distribute some free stuff - which could be a blog topic in itself. But hey - who gets paid to do more than they have to do to get paid?
So, in lieu of actually giving out unauthorized freebies, we thought we'd informally survey a few students. I began the conversation with 2 guys sitting on some couches outside their classroom. Before I knew what was going on, everyone attending an English class was there. Interesting mix of people. Interesting mix of conversations.
Tattoo Dude: "Hey - did you guys do the reading for today?"
Several people between the ages of 18 and 67: "what?! There was an assignment? Explicative."
Tatoo: "yeah - it's on page 125."
18-67 Year Olds: "zip. flp flip flip. Ok - lemme skim it."
Someone quoted part of the article which said - I kid you not "No one is really poor. They're just pre-rich." Brilliant. Perhaps this guy thinks the starving-poor of the world are also not actually malnourished - they're just pre-dead.
In another section of this crowd, there was a conversation between a guy who looked like his name should be Gunther and the very small but sassy crippled girl. They were making fun of each other. I shall leave this up you your imagination. Surreal.
In the midst of this fray, I tried to ask a couple questions. A few of the students responded - some with anecdotal references to the Family Guy, and some with real responses. Several were pretty surprised to hear that John Tyler was a president of the US. Then, Gunther began to read some internet webpages he had printed out. They were letters from Death Row Inmates, and they were pleas for penpals. He read them out loud to the group.
These letters spoke of the intense loneliness of men slated to die. Some spent 23 hours a day in solitary. They were very honest and desperate, yearning for someone to write them. They were hungry for someone to bring some meaning or significance into their world; someone, anyone who would dialogue with them by way of letters. Their present isolation from society seemed even more severe for the fact that ultimate separation was coming on a known date and time. To me, these pleas for connection sounded like requests for some kind of last meal for their souls. One more good thing before the end.
I felt so sad. But that changed very quickly.
In response to these naked cries for human connection, Gunther (who was apparently the apex Community College English student) began to make fun of their grammar and spelling. He mocked them for their poor parts of speech, for their apparent lack of educational prowess. "Ha ha! They are so stupid! Listen to this one!"
Unbelievable. Apparently Gunther could only see the ink on the page. Behind those molecule-thick markings were men who were dying, and all he seemed to care about was pointing out their lack of writing ability. Wow.
I really wanted to say something, but just then the class opened up and everyone shuffled off. What would I have said anyhow? "You selfish jerk!! Don't you care about other people, you moron!?" Hardly a compelling prod toward empathy.
But, this was one of my better moments of empathy. I felt sad for Gunther's callousness, and I felt sad for the desperate inmates. Right then I could see a contrast between his bad reaction and the response that I was having. But to be honest, I'm not really sure how many good moments I have.
If I had to bet, I would wager that the majority of people are hungry for connection. Most of us are at best somewhat relationally malnourished. Sure, we all have lots of events and technologies and people around us to make us feel connected and filled. But my impression is that few of us really connect on that deep soul-nourishing level that we all hope for.
The thing is, unlike those inmates, it seems that few of us really relate how needful we really are. We're too proud to be honest. There is strike one against my day to day empathy for others. They aren't very open about it, so I'm less likely to recognize it.
Strike two for me is that I know this. If I stop and think about it, I know that people want to be pursued and loved. But I forget this (willfully maybe?) and pretend like everyone is fine - if not in my inner view, at least in my outward expression. I'm the callous one.
Strike three for me is that I'm the Gunther. Oh sure - maybe I'll react well to those desperate cries for help, but most people aren't that vulnerable. So I'm not that empathetic. In fact - often times I'm the one who's making fun of other people. Occasionally for grammar, but more for smaller things. The way they talk, their personality quirks and shortcomings, their job performance, physical appearance, the way they drive. (Empathy is the emotional roadkill of the highways. If you could hear what I think about other drivers!)
In short - I need a double shot of humility. I'm getting that, slowly. I'm being worked on, and am way better than I used to be. Still need work though. I want to have the kind of humility and empathy that I had for those prisoners with the average Joe. I want to want to connect with the heart of the average guy walking down the street, or my neighbor. I was to be that kind of a person.
But what about you? I'm curious what things for you have made you more empathetic. What gives you the courage to reach out to others? I'd really love to know. If you love other people - what is it that gives you that? And I'm wondering if you're deeply, richly connected with anyone. Are you? Hey - I'd love it if you were my penpal. Lord knows I need more honest connection. Perhaps you do as well.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
My roof is on backwards
This weekend, we were inundated by nearly 7 inches of rain.
Saturday morning I laid down to take a nap, but, as I was falling into the fog of sleep, I shot out of bed when the house imploded. A big chunk of bedroom ceiling decided it liked the view from the floor better and made its way there in a hurry - along with gallons of water and some rather soggy insulation.
Ah - the joys of home ownership.
I won't bore you with a wordy rant about the slippery climb up the ladder and the hour on the roof in the rain (at least it was a tropical system, and the rain was rather warm for October in Pennsylvania) with tarps and a staple gun. (what qualifies something as being referred to as a gun anyhow? And why do most of my paragraphs have more content lodged in parenthesis than actual paragraph body? Guns though - my beefy friends are said to have "nice guns" but that doesn't follow if it has to do with the capacity to shoot a projectile. Maybe muscled men's big arms shoot invisible bullets of perceived inferiority? For that matter, caulk guns barely get their projectiles out, yet they are called guns. Why call it a gun? It's the same principle as a tube of toothpaste, but I don't refer to that as a gun - cool as that might sound. "Honey...where's the Crest-gun?" "In your toiletry and gun kit. You'll need to reload it." Cool. What would the neighbors make of that? But - I was talking about my roof, wasn't I?)
So - my roof.
Today the son of the actual contractor whom we called came out and looked at the spot where the water was definitely leaking in. Ok, send in the son. Lots of people have roof issues - sure. I'm a home maintenance idiot anyhow, so a roofer's 3 year old probably exceeds my frighteningly small roof vocabulary. So, tell us all about it just-learned-to-drive teeny-bopper roof boy. What do we need to do?
The answer: "Just caulk it."
"Caulk it?!" says I.
"Yeah" he says, "it's coming in this hole just below the gutter. If you fill that up with caulk or something, it should keep the water out."
Here I must explain a few things to you. (or the theoretical you whom I imagine might actually read this someday for some reason I can't imagine. The reality is that this blog - like most others - is probably just self servicing. A figurative "place" where uncontested vanities and delusions of widespread literary significance can grow unchecked by and unfounded in reality. But it's fun - ain't it?) Ok - cessation of digression.
Just caulk it.
The thing you need to know; I already know that this solution is ridiculous. On a clear day I can see New Jersey through this hole under the spouting. What's more, in that balmy rain I pulled back the metal "flashing" (I learned a new word pertaining to roofs & siding! Yay!) and found that the only thing holding the "wood" together was the "moss" that was covering it. The wood was so rotted and wet... well - fruitcake would be a much more substantial building material.
So, caulk itself, unless there's some magical caulk I don't know about, can't be the answer.
"Umm - Caulk? I think the wood up there isn't in very good shape, would you take a closer look at it?" I was at work and talking to the kid on the phone.
After a less teenager-ish examination, here's his new story:
The previous owners/roofers
1 Didn't remove the old roof before adding the new one.
2 Put the flashing on upside down.
3 Didn't stagger the layers, so there are huge seems running down the roof
4 Put the bottom layer on upside down. (on top of the old shingles)
and therefore it can be concluded that they...
5 Had no idea what they were doing.
What's even more intriguing is that they managed to put the edge layers on upside down ALL AROUND THE HOUSE. My entire exterior wooden framing might be less stable than last Christmas' fruitcake from Aunt Ethel.
So, in effect, behind the 1970's avocado yellow aluminum siding, my entire house is probably being held together by moss.
We should sleep well tonight, and every night - until the first hard frost.
Saturday morning I laid down to take a nap, but, as I was falling into the fog of sleep, I shot out of bed when the house imploded. A big chunk of bedroom ceiling decided it liked the view from the floor better and made its way there in a hurry - along with gallons of water and some rather soggy insulation.
Ah - the joys of home ownership.
I won't bore you with a wordy rant about the slippery climb up the ladder and the hour on the roof in the rain (at least it was a tropical system, and the rain was rather warm for October in Pennsylvania) with tarps and a staple gun. (what qualifies something as being referred to as a gun anyhow? And why do most of my paragraphs have more content lodged in parenthesis than actual paragraph body? Guns though - my beefy friends are said to have "nice guns" but that doesn't follow if it has to do with the capacity to shoot a projectile. Maybe muscled men's big arms shoot invisible bullets of perceived inferiority? For that matter, caulk guns barely get their projectiles out, yet they are called guns. Why call it a gun? It's the same principle as a tube of toothpaste, but I don't refer to that as a gun - cool as that might sound. "Honey...where's the Crest-gun?" "In your toiletry and gun kit. You'll need to reload it." Cool. What would the neighbors make of that? But - I was talking about my roof, wasn't I?)
So - my roof.
Today the son of the actual contractor whom we called came out and looked at the spot where the water was definitely leaking in. Ok, send in the son. Lots of people have roof issues - sure. I'm a home maintenance idiot anyhow, so a roofer's 3 year old probably exceeds my frighteningly small roof vocabulary. So, tell us all about it just-learned-to-drive teeny-bopper roof boy. What do we need to do?
The answer: "Just caulk it."
"Caulk it?!" says I.
"Yeah" he says, "it's coming in this hole just below the gutter. If you fill that up with caulk or something, it should keep the water out."
Here I must explain a few things to you. (or the theoretical you whom I imagine might actually read this someday for some reason I can't imagine. The reality is that this blog - like most others - is probably just self servicing. A figurative "place" where uncontested vanities and delusions of widespread literary significance can grow unchecked by and unfounded in reality. But it's fun - ain't it?) Ok - cessation of digression.
Just caulk it.
The thing you need to know; I already know that this solution is ridiculous. On a clear day I can see New Jersey through this hole under the spouting. What's more, in that balmy rain I pulled back the metal "flashing" (I learned a new word pertaining to roofs & siding! Yay!) and found that the only thing holding the "wood" together was the "moss" that was covering it. The wood was so rotted and wet... well - fruitcake would be a much more substantial building material.
So, caulk itself, unless there's some magical caulk I don't know about, can't be the answer.
"Umm - Caulk? I think the wood up there isn't in very good shape, would you take a closer look at it?" I was at work and talking to the kid on the phone.
After a less teenager-ish examination, here's his new story:
The previous owners/roofers
1 Didn't remove the old roof before adding the new one.
2 Put the flashing on upside down.
3 Didn't stagger the layers, so there are huge seems running down the roof
4 Put the bottom layer on upside down. (on top of the old shingles)
and therefore it can be concluded that they...
5 Had no idea what they were doing.
What's even more intriguing is that they managed to put the edge layers on upside down ALL AROUND THE HOUSE. My entire exterior wooden framing might be less stable than last Christmas' fruitcake from Aunt Ethel.
So, in effect, behind the 1970's avocado yellow aluminum siding, my entire house is probably being held together by moss.
We should sleep well tonight, and every night - until the first hard frost.
Monday, October 03, 2005
I Dream of Bikini
Last night my wife had a dream.
In her dream, she was in a bikini contest with some other ladies, but felt pretty confident about the outcome. The reason for this assurance of victory: I was the judge of the contest. She thought "surely he'll pick me as the winner."
This sounds like a nightmare to me. If I don't pick her, I'm in serious trouble on the home front. If I do pick her, I'm in less trouble, but still in trouble on the home front. Mainly for that fact that I took the job of comparing my wife with all the other ladies.
I can imagine a doomed conversation later on.
Wife: So John, you felt that I was the clear winner?
Me: Sure did babe! You're dreamy.
Wife: No bias there, you really felt that I compared well with the other nearly naked women?
Me: Um, well, you... You more than compare, you're in a class so far above them all. Not that I was really comparing, even though I had to. So I guess I was - but you won! Yay!
Wife: So if I hadn't won, who would you have picked to win?
Me: (now realizing the impending train wreck) Uhhh. Let's, ahh - let's stay out of the theoretical, shall we?
Wife: I mean, surely in your mind there was a runner up? Right? If you made her the winner, why would you have? What about her would have made her stand out to you?
Me: Are you getting warm? I'm warm.
Wife: Really, what would you have done if I weren't even in the competition? Would you have enjoyed judging it?
Me: It's really hot in here.
Fortunately, it was just a dream, and there was no final judgment about the winner in it. This has spared me explaining the actions and attitudes of the dream-me, and led me to a valuable preventive lesson through my wife's active subconscious.
Namely:
Never be a bikini contest judge, especially if your wife is competing.
This advice I give to you freely and without cost to you. Have a good day.
In her dream, she was in a bikini contest with some other ladies, but felt pretty confident about the outcome. The reason for this assurance of victory: I was the judge of the contest. She thought "surely he'll pick me as the winner."
This sounds like a nightmare to me. If I don't pick her, I'm in serious trouble on the home front. If I do pick her, I'm in less trouble, but still in trouble on the home front. Mainly for that fact that I took the job of comparing my wife with all the other ladies.
I can imagine a doomed conversation later on.
Wife: So John, you felt that I was the clear winner?
Me: Sure did babe! You're dreamy.
Wife: No bias there, you really felt that I compared well with the other nearly naked women?
Me: Um, well, you... You more than compare, you're in a class so far above them all. Not that I was really comparing, even though I had to. So I guess I was - but you won! Yay!
Wife: So if I hadn't won, who would you have picked to win?
Me: (now realizing the impending train wreck) Uhhh. Let's, ahh - let's stay out of the theoretical, shall we?
Wife: I mean, surely in your mind there was a runner up? Right? If you made her the winner, why would you have? What about her would have made her stand out to you?
Me: Are you getting warm? I'm warm.
Wife: Really, what would you have done if I weren't even in the competition? Would you have enjoyed judging it?
Me: It's really hot in here.
Fortunately, it was just a dream, and there was no final judgment about the winner in it. This has spared me explaining the actions and attitudes of the dream-me, and led me to a valuable preventive lesson through my wife's active subconscious.
Namely:
Never be a bikini contest judge, especially if your wife is competing.
This advice I give to you freely and without cost to you. Have a good day.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Waffle Cone or Petri Dish?
For quite some time I've enjoyed Breyer's Ice Cream. Not just orally, but also intellectually - in terms of "ice cream theory."
By this I mean the fact that a side by side comparison of Breyer's with most other name brands would reveal a stark contrast in ingredients. Unlike Breyer's, many brands have much more to offer in terms of "goo." After the initially unsurprising list of substances like milk, cream, & sugar - one finds things like guar, carob bean and xantham gums, carrageenan and caulk from your Aunt Edna's vintage 1950's bathroom.
Being an art graduate, I recognize binders when I see them. The gummy stuff in many ice cream tubs is something that holds the ingredients in suspension - to reduce separation and increase consistency. In this case, apparently, to make that consistency more moss-like. (interestingly, carageenan is a kind of algae) I would imagine that this additive also pads the profit margin. After all, algae just sorta shows up - it's available for whoever wants it. (and who wants it?)
Anyhow
When some friends in my bible study brought over some ice cream for dinner the other night, I couldn't help but notice a difference. When I partook of the Breyer's Snickers Ice Cream, something seemed amiss. My tastebuds indignation was proven righteous when I looked at the ingredients. Sure enough - gum. Gum in my Breyer's.
I hoped to blame a non-Breyer's source for this adulteration, so I also checked the Vanilla "extra-creamy" which had no surrogate-branded ingredients. I found that at the corporate level, "extra creamy" simply means "extra-gooey." It too contained some of the bounty of the microbe-farm. (And dare I ask what produces "guar?" Sounds like something emitted from an insect's butt - shudder! "Hey - wait a second...these aren't flecks of vanilla!")
Anyhow - my intellectual enjoyment of said ice cream is bound up in its simplicity. A handful of common ingredients, albeit rich ones, mixed together for my delight. Does it get runny quickly - yeah! It's just a couple liquids and sugar whipped up and cooled down. But it's pure. It's yummy. It's intellectually beautiful. It might bring my life to a premature end, but I will be fat and happy on all counts. (unless heart attacks actually hurt - but don't burst my bubble)
But now, I've found this troubling insight. Gum in my Breyers!? Have they now added a division for algae production? Couple of guys with big slimy tanks full of who knows what, just watching the algae grow? What's going on? Perhaps it's clandestinely referred to as the "Breyer's Cultural Division" if you catch my meaning.
I can't help but feeling like I've been let down. The box still says "all natural ingredients", but I no longer know what that means. Indeed - algae is pretty natural. But so are lead and mercury. What should I do?
Sadness. I have no pithy analogy or illustration about life here. I'm just sad that there is gum in my bowl, and I just want to know why. WHY!?
Oh well. There are worse things in life.
If I stop by an ice cream stand in the near future, maybe I'll ask for a Petri dish instead of a waffle cone. But then again - for me personally, I'm going to try an avoid eating algae, mold and anything that sounds at all like "Xantham"
By this I mean the fact that a side by side comparison of Breyer's with most other name brands would reveal a stark contrast in ingredients. Unlike Breyer's, many brands have much more to offer in terms of "goo." After the initially unsurprising list of substances like milk, cream, & sugar - one finds things like guar, carob bean and xantham gums, carrageenan and caulk from your Aunt Edna's vintage 1950's bathroom.
Being an art graduate, I recognize binders when I see them. The gummy stuff in many ice cream tubs is something that holds the ingredients in suspension - to reduce separation and increase consistency. In this case, apparently, to make that consistency more moss-like. (interestingly, carageenan is a kind of algae) I would imagine that this additive also pads the profit margin. After all, algae just sorta shows up - it's available for whoever wants it. (and who wants it?)
Anyhow
When some friends in my bible study brought over some ice cream for dinner the other night, I couldn't help but notice a difference. When I partook of the Breyer's Snickers Ice Cream, something seemed amiss. My tastebuds indignation was proven righteous when I looked at the ingredients. Sure enough - gum. Gum in my Breyer's.
I hoped to blame a non-Breyer's source for this adulteration, so I also checked the Vanilla "extra-creamy" which had no surrogate-branded ingredients. I found that at the corporate level, "extra creamy" simply means "extra-gooey." It too contained some of the bounty of the microbe-farm. (And dare I ask what produces "guar?" Sounds like something emitted from an insect's butt - shudder! "Hey - wait a second...these aren't flecks of vanilla!")
Anyhow - my intellectual enjoyment of said ice cream is bound up in its simplicity. A handful of common ingredients, albeit rich ones, mixed together for my delight. Does it get runny quickly - yeah! It's just a couple liquids and sugar whipped up and cooled down. But it's pure. It's yummy. It's intellectually beautiful. It might bring my life to a premature end, but I will be fat and happy on all counts. (unless heart attacks actually hurt - but don't burst my bubble)
But now, I've found this troubling insight. Gum in my Breyers!? Have they now added a division for algae production? Couple of guys with big slimy tanks full of who knows what, just watching the algae grow? What's going on? Perhaps it's clandestinely referred to as the "Breyer's Cultural Division" if you catch my meaning.
I can't help but feeling like I've been let down. The box still says "all natural ingredients", but I no longer know what that means. Indeed - algae is pretty natural. But so are lead and mercury. What should I do?
Sadness. I have no pithy analogy or illustration about life here. I'm just sad that there is gum in my bowl, and I just want to know why. WHY!?
Oh well. There are worse things in life.
If I stop by an ice cream stand in the near future, maybe I'll ask for a Petri dish instead of a waffle cone. But then again - for me personally, I'm going to try an avoid eating algae, mold and anything that sounds at all like "Xantham"
Thursday, September 15, 2005
May I Rest in Peace
What's the deal with sleeping?
Whatever it is, I could sure use some. I've been going hard the last few weeks with work (starting things up on campus) and bonus work (creating the video promo for our Christmas Conference. You can check out the finished product on the website... www.christmasconference.com ) and man am I tired. Had a couple 3 hours of sleep nights. Oof.
I'm easily sidetracked, which leads to taking longer to get work done, which leads to staying up late and sleeping less, which tends to make me easily sidetracked. the Wee Hour Spiral. Perhaps I should watch some reality TV. Gosh - those shows. Apparently little brainwave activity on the reception end of them, and the creation end of them. But I should be finishing my video now, but since I'm blogging, I'll stay up late to finish. Ah well, no sonorous snoring tonight.
So, instead of doing the sleeping thing, I'll muse about it. (if I could blog while I slept - now THERE would be something useful - though I'd wager my subconscious mind is in desperate need of spellchecking)
But why sleep? I know why I need to - so my contacts cease burning. But ultimately why - farther back, when it all started?
If evolution is true, what naturalistic advantage could have arisen from sleeping? If this gave some incremental benefit to your sex life (or a-sex life in the case of lower life forms) thus making you more "evolutionarily successful" when would that have come into the mix? Early on? Paramecium siesta - probably not. You'd have to go to higher life forms that actually do the sleeping thing.
Having watched a number of wildlife specials, it has dawned on me that most higher lifeforms fall into the biological classification we know as "Meat." (the subcategories are something like; 1) Things I will eat 2) Things I won't eat and 3) Chinese Food, which exists in that foggy state between 1 and 2. This is more true of Chinese Chinese food, which is much better than American Chinese food, in part because of its mysteriousness.)
Anyhow, where is the evolutionary advantage for the first member of the heard who takes the plunge into unconsciousness? "Hey - you other gazelles just jump and frolic around for while. Me? I think I'll lay down for a little while on this buffet table and be completely unaware of my surroundings."
The chocolate chip cookies on my counter have as much of a chance. I know that there are biological reasons that sleep is good, but there does seem to be something more to it, doesn't there?
I have a 13 month old son, whom I love with everything in me. Watching him sleep is great. He sleeps well too. I think sleep, at a metaphysical/spiritual level, points us to a Father. Little John falls into the 'meat' category, and in wilder times when the food chain isn't as linear for us, he's at risk. Especially as a little kid. Little more chance against some wild animal than my chocolate chip cookies have against me. (I expect their defenses to remain low, but hope his will increase.)
John can rest because I am here. His dropping into unconsciousness (though he can't ultimately resist it) points to my presence. I will be there for him - to protect, to supply, to comfort and love him. He can sleep at ease, with no fear of what may come while he is dreaming, because I am his Father, and I would die to save and protect him.
For me, when I do manage to sleep, I rest pretty well. I believe there is a Father who, like me with my son, is there and vigilant. Perhaps I rest even better than little John (or should anyhow) because my powers to love, protect, watch and supply are limited by my own humanity. Very limited. God as a Father is unlimited. I can sleep soundly and secure. Not that bumps, bruises, scrapes, cuts and minor head trauma won't come in my life, but He's there for those as well.
An Old Testament verse comes to mind, something like this: "He who watches over Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps." I can't watch my son all night - I too must succumb to my needs. But there is one over whom no one must watch, for He watches over all and has no needs.
My sleep then could be an expression of trust. A physical need for restoration and regeneration, but also a spiritual need to be protected and other-reliant. I love that John sleeps well. He trusts us, and that makes me pretty stinking happy.
For those of you who call Him Father, I hope you go and sleep soundly tonight. I think Someone will be there, watching, listening...and smiling.
Goodnight John. Goodnight Father.
Whatever it is, I could sure use some. I've been going hard the last few weeks with work (starting things up on campus) and bonus work (creating the video promo for our Christmas Conference. You can check out the finished product on the website... www.christmasconference.com ) and man am I tired. Had a couple 3 hours of sleep nights. Oof.
I'm easily sidetracked, which leads to taking longer to get work done, which leads to staying up late and sleeping less, which tends to make me easily sidetracked. the Wee Hour Spiral. Perhaps I should watch some reality TV. Gosh - those shows. Apparently little brainwave activity on the reception end of them, and the creation end of them. But I should be finishing my video now, but since I'm blogging, I'll stay up late to finish. Ah well, no sonorous snoring tonight.
So, instead of doing the sleeping thing, I'll muse about it. (if I could blog while I slept - now THERE would be something useful - though I'd wager my subconscious mind is in desperate need of spellchecking)
But why sleep? I know why I need to - so my contacts cease burning. But ultimately why - farther back, when it all started?
If evolution is true, what naturalistic advantage could have arisen from sleeping? If this gave some incremental benefit to your sex life (or a-sex life in the case of lower life forms) thus making you more "evolutionarily successful" when would that have come into the mix? Early on? Paramecium siesta - probably not. You'd have to go to higher life forms that actually do the sleeping thing.
Having watched a number of wildlife specials, it has dawned on me that most higher lifeforms fall into the biological classification we know as "Meat." (the subcategories are something like; 1) Things I will eat 2) Things I won't eat and 3) Chinese Food, which exists in that foggy state between 1 and 2. This is more true of Chinese Chinese food, which is much better than American Chinese food, in part because of its mysteriousness.)
Anyhow, where is the evolutionary advantage for the first member of the heard who takes the plunge into unconsciousness? "Hey - you other gazelles just jump and frolic around for while. Me? I think I'll lay down for a little while on this buffet table and be completely unaware of my surroundings."
The chocolate chip cookies on my counter have as much of a chance. I know that there are biological reasons that sleep is good, but there does seem to be something more to it, doesn't there?
I have a 13 month old son, whom I love with everything in me. Watching him sleep is great. He sleeps well too. I think sleep, at a metaphysical/spiritual level, points us to a Father. Little John falls into the 'meat' category, and in wilder times when the food chain isn't as linear for us, he's at risk. Especially as a little kid. Little more chance against some wild animal than my chocolate chip cookies have against me. (I expect their defenses to remain low, but hope his will increase.)
John can rest because I am here. His dropping into unconsciousness (though he can't ultimately resist it) points to my presence. I will be there for him - to protect, to supply, to comfort and love him. He can sleep at ease, with no fear of what may come while he is dreaming, because I am his Father, and I would die to save and protect him.
For me, when I do manage to sleep, I rest pretty well. I believe there is a Father who, like me with my son, is there and vigilant. Perhaps I rest even better than little John (or should anyhow) because my powers to love, protect, watch and supply are limited by my own humanity. Very limited. God as a Father is unlimited. I can sleep soundly and secure. Not that bumps, bruises, scrapes, cuts and minor head trauma won't come in my life, but He's there for those as well.
An Old Testament verse comes to mind, something like this: "He who watches over Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps." I can't watch my son all night - I too must succumb to my needs. But there is one over whom no one must watch, for He watches over all and has no needs.
My sleep then could be an expression of trust. A physical need for restoration and regeneration, but also a spiritual need to be protected and other-reliant. I love that John sleeps well. He trusts us, and that makes me pretty stinking happy.
For those of you who call Him Father, I hope you go and sleep soundly tonight. I think Someone will be there, watching, listening...and smiling.
Goodnight John. Goodnight Father.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Team Powerwasher Power
I spent most of the day on a ladder.
Had the day off today to compensate for a few Saturdays and I feel like I did a few Saturday's worth of work today. I powerwashed my house, and I'm peculiarly aware of some muscle groups - particularly of the arm variety.
The interesting thing really is that I paid for today's use of the powerwasher over a year ago. Early rental deposit? Nope. Unhappy customer credit? Nope. Bought it last year and forgot I had it until now? Nope.
Typically, I imagine most people would go one of two directions with the "I think I'll powerwash my house despite what the experts recommend and I'll need a powerwasher to do so" urge.
Alternative one is to add this tool to their tool belt. (It would be horribly uncomfortable to have a powerwasher strapped to your belt, so please remember that literalism can kill) There are a myriad of people like this where I live. Big houses, proportional shed, loose cash falling from them like Fall leaves. Between them and selling gargantuan packets of screws to people who need a total of 20 is why a local Home Depot can do a million in business on a good weekend. So, I could have fallen into category one.
Alternative two is the rental route. Again we find ourselves in Home Depot. (I find myself in Home Depot quite a bit more often than I had realized I would since buying a house. In fact, should I choose to disassemble my entire home, I'm sure I could find a bin, shelf, aisle or box for the sum total of it's parts at the store. There are probably 100 unrealized houses strewn across the expanse of that place. Rather than buying all those parts and assembling a fine, new home, I have chosen the "home replacement plan," wherein I slowly - over the course of decades - completely replace my home piece by piece. In the homeowner world, I'm more of a hemopheliac than an organ replacement. I suppose I should prefer the financial bloodletting to a major system failure. But what should I do with my 200 count boxes of screws left lying around after I use the 20 I need? Horrors! Now I need to buy another shelving unit! Sorry - was this a rant? Where was I?)
Ah yes - Rent. I could have rented my powerwasher. This is more up my alley. Though I chaff at the realization that after just 10 guys rent the $500 powerwasher for $50 a pop (please note my stellar math skills - It's an art degree that I have) it's all butter for the store, I do realize that it's the only way I'm going to have a powerwasher with which to powerfully wash. I 'own' it for a day but the real owner rakes in money like Fall leaves.
So did I rent the powerwasher? Nope. Nay - nor did I buy it. Well, sorta.
Turns out that a third alternative exists. One I don't usually think of. (Ok, a 4th really, but theft will lead to owning nothing and the only powerwashing going on would be in my brief and hyper-paranoid prison showers) So, there's another way for me to clean up the place.
Last year one of my new neighbors (I had just moved in) came to my door. Someone had the bright idea of harnessing the power of community. I live in a development based on the cul-de-sac (good concept, awful word) and probably 10 of the families in the immediate vicinity decided that instead of running out and buying it themselves, and instead of renting it for one stressed day - we'll use the power of community and get the best of both possibilities. I gladly wrote him a check for $50. I haven't used it until now, but I've lost nothing. I'll use it again sometime soon, and it won't cost me a thing. (ok - overpriced gas)
I wonder what else I miss along these lines? What other aspect of good community could help us all, were we to actually talk to our neighbors? I think there must be significant benefits that we miss out on when we're a society of loners - of fence builders and door closers. How many people really know their neighbors? What if, instead of a powerwasher, I could go to community for help with raising my kid, or a ride to work, or a hard situation? Could my $50 emotional investment yield a return of $500 in wisdom? Help? Love?
Of course - that depends. We share the powerwasher, but it has a regular place it's kept. Will everyone put it back when they're done? (it's 1 AM and as I write this it's sitting on my back porch - Hypocrite!!) Will they clean it up? Maintain it? Keep the parts, the directions and the warranty? Misuse it? There is a lot that could go wrong. It's a risk. My $50 could have been blown in the past year if the wrong kind of people were in it with me.
So far they haven't been. My neighbor knocked well. There are some in the neighborhood who were not asked. Some are not known, some are known - and were not asked. While there is wisdom in selection, you just never know.
For my part, I can't control the others in team-powerwasher. (But I could hose their flowerbeds if it got ugly) The person I can be responsible for is me. I can be the guy who is safe to invest in. I can be the guy who follows through and cares for our little community. I can be the door that others are able to knock on. That much I can do. If everyone follows suite, we should be ok, and I'll be powerwashing for years to come.
If I want the benefits of the community, I need to invest a little of myself and I need to follow through with caring for others' investments. To that end, I think I'll go put away the powerwasher.
And maybe someone in the cul-de-sac might need part of a box of screws.
Had the day off today to compensate for a few Saturdays and I feel like I did a few Saturday's worth of work today. I powerwashed my house, and I'm peculiarly aware of some muscle groups - particularly of the arm variety.
The interesting thing really is that I paid for today's use of the powerwasher over a year ago. Early rental deposit? Nope. Unhappy customer credit? Nope. Bought it last year and forgot I had it until now? Nope.
Typically, I imagine most people would go one of two directions with the "I think I'll powerwash my house despite what the experts recommend and I'll need a powerwasher to do so" urge.
Alternative one is to add this tool to their tool belt. (It would be horribly uncomfortable to have a powerwasher strapped to your belt, so please remember that literalism can kill) There are a myriad of people like this where I live. Big houses, proportional shed, loose cash falling from them like Fall leaves. Between them and selling gargantuan packets of screws to people who need a total of 20 is why a local Home Depot can do a million in business on a good weekend. So, I could have fallen into category one.
Alternative two is the rental route. Again we find ourselves in Home Depot. (I find myself in Home Depot quite a bit more often than I had realized I would since buying a house. In fact, should I choose to disassemble my entire home, I'm sure I could find a bin, shelf, aisle or box for the sum total of it's parts at the store. There are probably 100 unrealized houses strewn across the expanse of that place. Rather than buying all those parts and assembling a fine, new home, I have chosen the "home replacement plan," wherein I slowly - over the course of decades - completely replace my home piece by piece. In the homeowner world, I'm more of a hemopheliac than an organ replacement. I suppose I should prefer the financial bloodletting to a major system failure. But what should I do with my 200 count boxes of screws left lying around after I use the 20 I need? Horrors! Now I need to buy another shelving unit! Sorry - was this a rant? Where was I?)
Ah yes - Rent. I could have rented my powerwasher. This is more up my alley. Though I chaff at the realization that after just 10 guys rent the $500 powerwasher for $50 a pop (please note my stellar math skills - It's an art degree that I have) it's all butter for the store, I do realize that it's the only way I'm going to have a powerwasher with which to powerfully wash. I 'own' it for a day but the real owner rakes in money like Fall leaves.
So did I rent the powerwasher? Nope. Nay - nor did I buy it. Well, sorta.
Turns out that a third alternative exists. One I don't usually think of. (Ok, a 4th really, but theft will lead to owning nothing and the only powerwashing going on would be in my brief and hyper-paranoid prison showers) So, there's another way for me to clean up the place.
Last year one of my new neighbors (I had just moved in) came to my door. Someone had the bright idea of harnessing the power of community. I live in a development based on the cul-de-sac (good concept, awful word) and probably 10 of the families in the immediate vicinity decided that instead of running out and buying it themselves, and instead of renting it for one stressed day - we'll use the power of community and get the best of both possibilities. I gladly wrote him a check for $50. I haven't used it until now, but I've lost nothing. I'll use it again sometime soon, and it won't cost me a thing. (ok - overpriced gas)
I wonder what else I miss along these lines? What other aspect of good community could help us all, were we to actually talk to our neighbors? I think there must be significant benefits that we miss out on when we're a society of loners - of fence builders and door closers. How many people really know their neighbors? What if, instead of a powerwasher, I could go to community for help with raising my kid, or a ride to work, or a hard situation? Could my $50 emotional investment yield a return of $500 in wisdom? Help? Love?
Of course - that depends. We share the powerwasher, but it has a regular place it's kept. Will everyone put it back when they're done? (it's 1 AM and as I write this it's sitting on my back porch - Hypocrite!!) Will they clean it up? Maintain it? Keep the parts, the directions and the warranty? Misuse it? There is a lot that could go wrong. It's a risk. My $50 could have been blown in the past year if the wrong kind of people were in it with me.
So far they haven't been. My neighbor knocked well. There are some in the neighborhood who were not asked. Some are not known, some are known - and were not asked. While there is wisdom in selection, you just never know.
For my part, I can't control the others in team-powerwasher. (But I could hose their flowerbeds if it got ugly) The person I can be responsible for is me. I can be the guy who is safe to invest in. I can be the guy who follows through and cares for our little community. I can be the door that others are able to knock on. That much I can do. If everyone follows suite, we should be ok, and I'll be powerwashing for years to come.
If I want the benefits of the community, I need to invest a little of myself and I need to follow through with caring for others' investments. To that end, I think I'll go put away the powerwasher.
And maybe someone in the cul-de-sac might need part of a box of screws.
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