Well, here it is: the first milestone blogmark. I had so much I wanted to write here: a piece about KBO, a bit about God and faith, a little maybe about the great mystery of synchronicity that I've noticed weaving about my life...
But I'm stuck. Again.
The words fail me. They don't come out. The thoughts and inspirations are there, and I don't believe in writer's block.
It's just that my words feel clumsy. Oafish. As though my thoughts are being interpreted into German, sent through Morse code to a Cocker Spaniel, and barked out to a chipmunk.
English is such a gracious, noble language. The way that a pun twists a word's dipthong until the listener feels the pain of a wedgie. The masterful laments of Prufrock and Josh Ritter. The power of the phrase "You Shall Not Pass," spoken in stentorian tones by an actor of the highest caliber.
But yet, it feels like this masterful tool, this glorious instrument on which I play, has become a tintinnabulation, a cacophony of guttural lowing from a hungry herd of livestock complaining about their lot in life.
I've been reading more and more literature in the past few weeks. A lot more TS Eliot, listening to Josh Ritter a little more, crying inside a little more...I think it's a sign of another inward spiral.
Maybe the solution is in the problem: I've gotta rock myself a little bit harder. I've got to eat a peach. Let myself live a little. KBO.
I'm trying to live by a few principles: Love God. Obey the rules of the land. Honor my parents. Enjoy life.
In that order.
But some days, I'm just not...
I'm just not me anymore. I'm just a husk of Ryan's soul, biding my time, waiting to come to life again, like the storms down in Mexico. Spiritually, I'm just getting by, because I can't work in the confines of the box. My God is so much bigger than the box that many see Him as, and I don't want to be bound by the rules that others claim He wrote. The rules that leech life, stifle creativity, maintain the status quo - I can't see my God having anything to do with them, let alone writing them.
Is there not a prophet in Israel? Is there not a voice to cry out and change my future? Do they have to come from all over the place in order to revitalize a local body? If the body is going that way, won't there be someone local to be that way?
And after releasing all this, I hear a voice. It's only three words, spoken by my best friend. I can hear the warmth in his voice as he says it, although he's a thousand miles and five states away. But I can feel the power of them, resonating inside me, gripping the wildly vibrating tuning fork that has been my soul and giving it rest.
KBO, folks, because sooner or later, things will turn out right. Walk in tune with the beat that God hears, and soon you might see the dance steps you take, and learn to enjoy it as well.
Good night, folks. Fifty-one will be better.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
49th Confession
A long, long time ago, I promised to answer every comment that was listed on this blog, either in a post, or in the comments. I didn't do that for the February blogs; I figured it needed to be done eventually, but I didn't have the strength. Sitting up late when I should be abed, I suppose now is as good a time as any to address this.
In no particular order:
Emma - Not only do you win for the Most Dedicated Responder Award for your work on typing on a mobile, you also win the Most Likely to be Blog Stalked, when you write down your experiences. Let me know when this happens, and where. While I do not envy anyone who shares our experiences, a burden shared is halved. Some time, I'll have to blog about darling Livvy ("Mummy...Where's that MAN?")...Maybe I'll leave that one for you, though ;) By the way? A doorway into the mind works both ways; ask Madame de Pompadour.
ConTom - Every post I write is theraputic in some way. Thank you for reading my soul.
grace/Grace - You were the first responder to this crisis, all these years ago. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for stopping in the bracing cold air, just for that moment. While I always do the best I know how, I never felt it was ever enough.
Interesting sidebar at this juncture: this evening, I dined with a father whose teenage son ascended about six weeks ago. Six weeks is about the time when the bottom drops out of everything: the prayer support seems to stop, you raise your head up out of your grieving pool for the first time to notice that the world has passed you by, and you get the paranoid sense that people are thinking to themselves, "It's been over a month; they should really move on by now." No one wants to say your child's name to you, lest they bring up something uncomfortable and not know how to respond; we wanted to talk of nothing else, lest she be forgotten.
So tonight, sitting across Chipotle meals, we talked about his son. No teenage boy does everything right, especially one in today's liberal society. But tonight, I saw the fruits of a great father finally be revealed: that when his son was no more, other parents talked about his excellent behavior. Good parenting, like wisdom, is revealed by her children - especially in the absence of the parent.
Na - Honesty you may have in abundance on this place. Happiness, like heated leather seats, will cost you extra ;)
Tina - I am deeply honored to be among the best fathers that you know. In this world, we receive an ungodly number of teachers but only a handful of fathers: to know a good father is rare enough, and to be called among the best is a title that I strive to achieve daily, now. Thank you for walking with us on this path, in such a time as this.
Fremere - We all walk the paths that we create from our choices; while I regret some choices from long ago, I appreciate your companionship on the road right now.
Happy - Aye. 'Tis. <3
Mercy for Today - Sometimes, I walk by that picture frame, and I stop and talk with her for a minute or two. Also for you, a fable: A gecko and an elephant were walking together along a path through a jungle in the cool of the day. The gecko, being quite small but enjoying the conversation with his friend, asked to ride on the elephant's shoulder; the elephant, being a quite kindly animal, obliged. Soon, they reached a giant chasm. Across this chasm, an exceedingly clever man had fashioned a bridge from several hundred thousand vines; don't ask about where the vines are from or how he fashioned the bridge - it's immaterial, and quite rude to interrupt the story like that. Do it again, young man, and I'll turn this van right around and not give you any pudding.
Where was I?
Oh, yes: the bridge. Across the bridge the elephant walked, with the gecko clinging for dear life to his friend's shoulder. The winds howled around them, the bridge swayed precariously from side to side, and the river roared below them. Creaking, popping, and snapping sounds were also in the audio mix, mostly from under the elephant's feet. This is a nice fable, so they both made it across in relative safety. After reaching the other side, the gecko whispered into the elephant's ear, "We sure shook that bridge, didn't we?"
Jessa B - Our footfalls echo in the memory/Down the passage which we did not take/Towards the door we never opened/Into the rose-garden. My words echo/Thus, in your mind. But to what purpose/Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves/I do not know. Thank you for listening to my echo; enjoy TED =)
Heather H - When we all get there, I'll be glad to make Josh's acquaintance. Until then, may our memories keep them close to us, even as they enjoy their new home.
Aiight - that's all for now. Next post is number 50 - not sure what to do with THAT. Suggestions?
In no particular order:
Emma - Not only do you win for the Most Dedicated Responder Award for your work on typing on a mobile, you also win the Most Likely to be Blog Stalked, when you write down your experiences. Let me know when this happens, and where. While I do not envy anyone who shares our experiences, a burden shared is halved. Some time, I'll have to blog about darling Livvy ("Mummy...Where's that MAN?")...Maybe I'll leave that one for you, though ;) By the way? A doorway into the mind works both ways; ask Madame de Pompadour.
ConTom - Every post I write is theraputic in some way. Thank you for reading my soul.
grace/Grace - You were the first responder to this crisis, all these years ago. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for stopping in the bracing cold air, just for that moment. While I always do the best I know how, I never felt it was ever enough.
Interesting sidebar at this juncture: this evening, I dined with a father whose teenage son ascended about six weeks ago. Six weeks is about the time when the bottom drops out of everything: the prayer support seems to stop, you raise your head up out of your grieving pool for the first time to notice that the world has passed you by, and you get the paranoid sense that people are thinking to themselves, "It's been over a month; they should really move on by now." No one wants to say your child's name to you, lest they bring up something uncomfortable and not know how to respond; we wanted to talk of nothing else, lest she be forgotten.
So tonight, sitting across Chipotle meals, we talked about his son. No teenage boy does everything right, especially one in today's liberal society. But tonight, I saw the fruits of a great father finally be revealed: that when his son was no more, other parents talked about his excellent behavior. Good parenting, like wisdom, is revealed by her children - especially in the absence of the parent.
Na - Honesty you may have in abundance on this place. Happiness, like heated leather seats, will cost you extra ;)
Tina - I am deeply honored to be among the best fathers that you know. In this world, we receive an ungodly number of teachers but only a handful of fathers: to know a good father is rare enough, and to be called among the best is a title that I strive to achieve daily, now. Thank you for walking with us on this path, in such a time as this.
Fremere - We all walk the paths that we create from our choices; while I regret some choices from long ago, I appreciate your companionship on the road right now.
Happy - Aye. 'Tis. <3
Mercy for Today - Sometimes, I walk by that picture frame, and I stop and talk with her for a minute or two. Also for you, a fable: A gecko and an elephant were walking together along a path through a jungle in the cool of the day. The gecko, being quite small but enjoying the conversation with his friend, asked to ride on the elephant's shoulder; the elephant, being a quite kindly animal, obliged. Soon, they reached a giant chasm. Across this chasm, an exceedingly clever man had fashioned a bridge from several hundred thousand vines; don't ask about where the vines are from or how he fashioned the bridge - it's immaterial, and quite rude to interrupt the story like that. Do it again, young man, and I'll turn this van right around and not give you any pudding.
Where was I?
Oh, yes: the bridge. Across the bridge the elephant walked, with the gecko clinging for dear life to his friend's shoulder. The winds howled around them, the bridge swayed precariously from side to side, and the river roared below them. Creaking, popping, and snapping sounds were also in the audio mix, mostly from under the elephant's feet. This is a nice fable, so they both made it across in relative safety. After reaching the other side, the gecko whispered into the elephant's ear, "We sure shook that bridge, didn't we?"
Jessa B - Our footfalls echo in the memory/Down the passage which we did not take/Towards the door we never opened/Into the rose-garden. My words echo/Thus, in your mind. But to what purpose/Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves/I do not know. Thank you for listening to my echo; enjoy TED =)
Heather H - When we all get there, I'll be glad to make Josh's acquaintance. Until then, may our memories keep them close to us, even as they enjoy their new home.
Aiight - that's all for now. Next post is number 50 - not sure what to do with THAT. Suggestions?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
48th Confession
Well, here we are in March now, and I'll get back to answering everyone who wrote in on the last few posts, probably on the next post. But that's too much heaviness, for right now. We'll just leave that for right now and talk about interpretations.
Hermaneutics is one of those things that either scares people off or makes them look at you funny if you say that you're interested in it. I mean, it's not exactly rocket science, but if it were easy, everyone would be doing it.
But that's the thing: everybody DOES do it. Everything that you can sense, feel, consider - all of it - are interpretations of the world around you. It's all signals, constantly being decoded by your brain as it tries to make sense of the world around you.
For example: how do you know when a person is upset? Their eyes narrow, their voice changes, their body tenses up....all these things are able to be interpreted in a matter of seconds to interpret a person's mood. How much more is there to interpret in the world?
Which leads into the big question: what is a correct interpretation? Or are all interpretations equally valid?
It's almost like asking, "What is truth?" Abstract nouns have a funny way of being ephemeral at best, and poorly defined at worst. Love, truth, beauty, goodness- all are up for interpretation, and none have been able to be adequately defined or explained by science. There is no magic formula for being beautiful; no matter how much one moisturizes, makes friends, and is a general "good" person - which we shouldn't use, because "good" isn't quantifiable - there is always, ALWAYS, going to be someone that can't stand them.
I figure, the same holds true for interpretations: for every thirty or so people who hold to a particular interpretation of something, there's gonna be at least fifteen - a very vocal fifteen - who will disagree. Loudly. Sometimes with rocks.
But that's not the issue: the issue is, can something be utterly true? I surely and truly hope that only one equals one, and evermore ought to be so. But we need more than hope to prove absolute truth. So let's look at a couple of things.
Atheists and scientists employ empiricism and logic. But it's theoretically provable that two equals one, which proves that logic merely enables one to be wrong with authority. And we're expanding our range of senses at an alarming rate, so empiricism cannot be the be-all, end-all either. Plus, we're dealing with something that is above senses: you can see a woman be sawed in half, but it doesn't mean she has been, for example.
So what CAN we rely upon? Science can be fooled, humans can be fooled, anything can be faked...So perhaps the answer is, truth cannot be absolutely proved or disproved.
But let me show you a different approach.
Truth must come from outside ourselves; if it comes from within, it is nothing more than delusion. However, truth needs to be verified by several outside sources; if it's too narrow of a field, that limits what you can accept as true. It needs to come from several conflicting people, and if it's scientifically provable, all the better.
But even that cannot help with the big question; is there a God? I've seen Him proven through the existence of moral code, sentience, high-level communication, the genesis of the universe, a trifecta proposition, and seemingly no-loss bets...and I've seen the secular humanist atheists attack each and every of these arguments and rationally (logically?) disprove each of them.
So is there a God? I cannot prove Him for certain; if I could, I wouldn't need Him. If I could understand Him, I'd be like Him; I can only catch glimpses of his thumbprints here and there. I see enough circumstantial evidence to make my faith a part of me, even on my worst days. And, as CS Lewis once put it, "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else."
Hermaneutics is one of those things that either scares people off or makes them look at you funny if you say that you're interested in it. I mean, it's not exactly rocket science, but if it were easy, everyone would be doing it.
But that's the thing: everybody DOES do it. Everything that you can sense, feel, consider - all of it - are interpretations of the world around you. It's all signals, constantly being decoded by your brain as it tries to make sense of the world around you.
For example: how do you know when a person is upset? Their eyes narrow, their voice changes, their body tenses up....all these things are able to be interpreted in a matter of seconds to interpret a person's mood. How much more is there to interpret in the world?
Which leads into the big question: what is a correct interpretation? Or are all interpretations equally valid?
It's almost like asking, "What is truth?" Abstract nouns have a funny way of being ephemeral at best, and poorly defined at worst. Love, truth, beauty, goodness- all are up for interpretation, and none have been able to be adequately defined or explained by science. There is no magic formula for being beautiful; no matter how much one moisturizes, makes friends, and is a general "good" person - which we shouldn't use, because "good" isn't quantifiable - there is always, ALWAYS, going to be someone that can't stand them.
I figure, the same holds true for interpretations: for every thirty or so people who hold to a particular interpretation of something, there's gonna be at least fifteen - a very vocal fifteen - who will disagree. Loudly. Sometimes with rocks.
But that's not the issue: the issue is, can something be utterly true? I surely and truly hope that only one equals one, and evermore ought to be so. But we need more than hope to prove absolute truth. So let's look at a couple of things.
Atheists and scientists employ empiricism and logic. But it's theoretically provable that two equals one, which proves that logic merely enables one to be wrong with authority. And we're expanding our range of senses at an alarming rate, so empiricism cannot be the be-all, end-all either. Plus, we're dealing with something that is above senses: you can see a woman be sawed in half, but it doesn't mean she has been, for example.
So what CAN we rely upon? Science can be fooled, humans can be fooled, anything can be faked...So perhaps the answer is, truth cannot be absolutely proved or disproved.
But let me show you a different approach.
Truth must come from outside ourselves; if it comes from within, it is nothing more than delusion. However, truth needs to be verified by several outside sources; if it's too narrow of a field, that limits what you can accept as true. It needs to come from several conflicting people, and if it's scientifically provable, all the better.
But even that cannot help with the big question; is there a God? I've seen Him proven through the existence of moral code, sentience, high-level communication, the genesis of the universe, a trifecta proposition, and seemingly no-loss bets...and I've seen the secular humanist atheists attack each and every of these arguments and rationally (logically?) disprove each of them.
So is there a God? I cannot prove Him for certain; if I could, I wouldn't need Him. If I could understand Him, I'd be like Him; I can only catch glimpses of his thumbprints here and there. I see enough circumstantial evidence to make my faith a part of me, even on my worst days. And, as CS Lewis once put it, "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else."
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