I don't make a big deal out of things. I try to keep as low key as possible. I never liked drama in high school, and I still don't like it now.
So when I went in for minor surgery, that's how I viewed it - minor.
Now, I ache in my guts. And I can't bend right. And I'm up late because I can't get comfortable. All minor things - but I'll not say much to anyone about it, mainly because that's how I am.
Sometimes, I wish I were a little more dramatic. Maybe I'd get more attention that way. But personally? Drama just isn't my thing.
Sorry for the brevity - next post will be longer when I feel more like writing.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
55th Confession
It's never easy to consider the end of a thing. No matter how long one plans, no matter what safeguards one enacts, everything ends. Television series, books, lives, and (as science so comfortingly puts it) the universe are all being led along the path of slow decay, until their bitter ends. And you'd think that we, as humans, would understand that. After all, it's been going on for lifetimes now.
But it doesn't make it any easier. Especially when the pain of loss is personal.
For a while now, my grandmother has been in poor health. Her lungs, her blood, and her mind have all been tainted by various effects of the world of sickness. At 80-something - or is she in her 90's? - she's led a full, rewarding life. She's seen (or received word of) all her grandchildren marrying, even held some great-grandchildren. She's been a strong woman of faith, up until the time that her mind began to betray her.
And now, her living will is taking effect. As her body wears down for the final time, she's requested to die in peace.
And I can't find it in my heart to blame her.
In younger days, I was very conservative about such matters. "Life is life, and one should always fight for it," I thought. I believed that life was supposed to be struggled through until the very last minute. I wanted so very much to believe in life - at any cost.
And now, as I grow older, I find that my ideals are eroded constantly. There are so very few things that are black and white, and so many colors that don't fit into either category. Is it age and maturity tempering the fiery idealism of youth? Has it always been this way?
Why did no one ever tell me that "right" and "wrong" overlap so much?
Moses once asked the Lord to teach us to count our days. I know now, in part, that it's not just about the number of days there are between inception and death. I understand that it's the moments that enrich a life that we're supposed to pay attention and count. Remembering the first kiss shared between you and your spouse. The first time you saw your child. The accomplishments you may have had throughout your life. The agonizing heartbreaks that honed your purpose, focused you into what God made for you in this lifetime.
I suppose that, without times like these, purpose and destiny cannot be created. It's through the revealing of character that a purpose is shown, and character is truly revealed in times of tragedy. David's time at Ziklag, for example, shows the depth of his devotion to his God and his people. Or that time that the child could not come to him, but David will eventually go to him. There are so many things that make a person's purpose - and not everyone can handle it.
The saddest thing to see is when a person falters against the purpose for which they were created. Samson, Amy Winehouse, Janis Joplin, Charlie Chaplin...History is littered with gifted people, good people, whose lives have been twisted, shaken, and corrupted by their inability to harness their character for something more than the "now." It takes a strong person to plan for the future - including the worst parts of it.
My grandmother is a strong person. And I am proud of her.
But it doesn't make it any easier. Especially when the pain of loss is personal.
For a while now, my grandmother has been in poor health. Her lungs, her blood, and her mind have all been tainted by various effects of the world of sickness. At 80-something - or is she in her 90's? - she's led a full, rewarding life. She's seen (or received word of) all her grandchildren marrying, even held some great-grandchildren. She's been a strong woman of faith, up until the time that her mind began to betray her.
And now, her living will is taking effect. As her body wears down for the final time, she's requested to die in peace.
And I can't find it in my heart to blame her.
In younger days, I was very conservative about such matters. "Life is life, and one should always fight for it," I thought. I believed that life was supposed to be struggled through until the very last minute. I wanted so very much to believe in life - at any cost.
And now, as I grow older, I find that my ideals are eroded constantly. There are so very few things that are black and white, and so many colors that don't fit into either category. Is it age and maturity tempering the fiery idealism of youth? Has it always been this way?
Why did no one ever tell me that "right" and "wrong" overlap so much?
Moses once asked the Lord to teach us to count our days. I know now, in part, that it's not just about the number of days there are between inception and death. I understand that it's the moments that enrich a life that we're supposed to pay attention and count. Remembering the first kiss shared between you and your spouse. The first time you saw your child. The accomplishments you may have had throughout your life. The agonizing heartbreaks that honed your purpose, focused you into what God made for you in this lifetime.
I suppose that, without times like these, purpose and destiny cannot be created. It's through the revealing of character that a purpose is shown, and character is truly revealed in times of tragedy. David's time at Ziklag, for example, shows the depth of his devotion to his God and his people. Or that time that the child could not come to him, but David will eventually go to him. There are so many things that make a person's purpose - and not everyone can handle it.
The saddest thing to see is when a person falters against the purpose for which they were created. Samson, Amy Winehouse, Janis Joplin, Charlie Chaplin...History is littered with gifted people, good people, whose lives have been twisted, shaken, and corrupted by their inability to harness their character for something more than the "now." It takes a strong person to plan for the future - including the worst parts of it.
My grandmother is a strong person. And I am proud of her.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
54th Confession
First off - let me give a shout out to my blog header designer, Sahina-Waya. You can find a lot of her work here, and I'm certain that were you to purchase some of her work, she'd not be too averse to it.
Last post, a couple questions were asked on the comments board, specifically geared to the defense of the local gathering of believers. I feel that this is a great little topic, so I'm going to dive right into it.
I believe strongly in the local gathering of believers for fellowship, teaching, correction, and worship. However, I've noticed a disturbing trend recently: a lot of "organized" religious gatherings have become focused on self-sustenance. That is, instead of being focused on the world, they've become focused on themselves. Instead of focusing on Jesus, they become focused on tenets. Or worse, they become focused on tenants.
It is a trustworthy statement: any group whose focus becomes the continued survival of the group is already dead. Any time any one is not willing to allow something to die in order to give place to something new, watch out.
But despite all this, is it wrong to take a little time to regroup, away from others? I don't have a problem with it, as long as it's only that: time to regroup refocus, and then get back into it.
For an example, let me reference the sad case of Jacopo da Pontormo, a Renaissance artist that very few people can reference. His last commissions were the frescoes in the chapel at San Lorenzo, in Florence. Getting on in years, and hampered by a fear of people stealing his ideas, Jacopo ordered the chapel sealed off, walled in, and no one allowed to look at his creation. Sadly, he died before finishing his frescoes (eleven years in the making)...and none of them survived. Why? One of his close friends, Giorgio Vasari, wrote in his journals about how scene bled into scene, characters were juxtaposed, and there was an overall lack of proportion. Quoting Vasari, “I think I would go mad and become entangled in this painting," if he continued to look at it. Obsessed with detail, da Pontormo lost the sense of the overall composition.
Isolation spawns creativity, true; however, too much time alone fosters "an obsession with detail combined with an inability to see the larger picture, a kind of extravagant ugliness that no longer communicates." (Borrowed from Robert Greene's fascinating study into the 48 laws of power)
Growth, in any living being, is dependent on two distinct and separate times: a season of self, and a season of environment. During the season of self, the organism focuses inward: a tree during winter, or a child in a home environment. This season is for the inner strengthening - roots grow deeper, wounds are healed, and armor is developed. During the season of environment, the organism focuses outward: a tree in summer, or a child in a public environment. This is the season of outreach, of experimentation, of flourishing. If one cannot thrive in the environment where there is external pressure and stress on what you believe, how is your faith relevant?
Therein lies the challenge unique to the believer, mirrored in all kinds of ways. Be salt - but not overwhelming, light - but not blinding, leavening - but not over-inflated, self-aware - but not self-absorbed, God-aware - but not God-absorbed.
Last post, a couple questions were asked on the comments board, specifically geared to the defense of the local gathering of believers. I feel that this is a great little topic, so I'm going to dive right into it.
I believe strongly in the local gathering of believers for fellowship, teaching, correction, and worship. However, I've noticed a disturbing trend recently: a lot of "organized" religious gatherings have become focused on self-sustenance. That is, instead of being focused on the world, they've become focused on themselves. Instead of focusing on Jesus, they become focused on tenets. Or worse, they become focused on tenants.
It is a trustworthy statement: any group whose focus becomes the continued survival of the group is already dead. Any time any one is not willing to allow something to die in order to give place to something new, watch out.
But despite all this, is it wrong to take a little time to regroup, away from others? I don't have a problem with it, as long as it's only that: time to regroup refocus, and then get back into it.
For an example, let me reference the sad case of Jacopo da Pontormo, a Renaissance artist that very few people can reference. His last commissions were the frescoes in the chapel at San Lorenzo, in Florence. Getting on in years, and hampered by a fear of people stealing his ideas, Jacopo ordered the chapel sealed off, walled in, and no one allowed to look at his creation. Sadly, he died before finishing his frescoes (eleven years in the making)...and none of them survived. Why? One of his close friends, Giorgio Vasari, wrote in his journals about how scene bled into scene, characters were juxtaposed, and there was an overall lack of proportion. Quoting Vasari, “I think I would go mad and become entangled in this painting," if he continued to look at it. Obsessed with detail, da Pontormo lost the sense of the overall composition.
Isolation spawns creativity, true; however, too much time alone fosters "an obsession with detail combined with an inability to see the larger picture, a kind of extravagant ugliness that no longer communicates." (Borrowed from Robert Greene's fascinating study into the 48 laws of power)
Growth, in any living being, is dependent on two distinct and separate times: a season of self, and a season of environment. During the season of self, the organism focuses inward: a tree during winter, or a child in a home environment. This season is for the inner strengthening - roots grow deeper, wounds are healed, and armor is developed. During the season of environment, the organism focuses outward: a tree in summer, or a child in a public environment. This is the season of outreach, of experimentation, of flourishing. If one cannot thrive in the environment where there is external pressure and stress on what you believe, how is your faith relevant?
Therein lies the challenge unique to the believer, mirrored in all kinds of ways. Be salt - but not overwhelming, light - but not blinding, leavening - but not over-inflated, self-aware - but not self-absorbed, God-aware - but not God-absorbed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)