Reboot (A Belated New Year's Post)

Nearly two months have passed since my last post. Two months composed of a wild, exhausting rush of paper writing as the Fall term concluded, followed by the physical and emotional relief of a Christmas break of road tripping, family and friends, familiar northwest comforts, and even a three-movie day in there at some point.

This was followed by January, a month in which, other than a week and a half long class I attended at one of the GTU schools, I’ve tried as much as possible to take an intellectual and creative break, spending my time watching The Office and Downton Abbey on Netflix, exercising every day (truly), cooking a lot, spending quality time with Joann and Clara, and taking day trips around the bay area. All while occasionally sneaking in a bit of Greek study and work on other miscellaneous school-related projects as I gear up for a new semester. It was a much needed break; last semester was enriching but demanding, and the next will likely be more of the same.

I am energized by beginnings, partly because of a personality type bent toward a love of possibility and hope. I recognize I can “begin” on April 7^th or July 18^th or any day; every moment holds the possibility for change and renewal. But the calendar turnover seems a natural moment to consider hopes, goals, priorities...to self-assess.

My friends and I have a running joke about the new year, inspired by words from a middle-school classmate: “I’m going to get soooo ripped (i.e., strong, chiseled) this year!” I always joke that this is the year I get my six-pack abs. I’d probably be better off aiming to drink a six-pack; that’s probably a more attainable goal. Genetics and ingrained habits are greater foes than the path from my desk to the fridge.

Goal setting, resolutions, ambitions...these can be dangerous for me...a way of setting myself up for failure and remorse given a below average performance record of meeting the demands I place on myself. But demand I must, lest I become overly permissive and neglect my responsibility for my own betterment and thriving. The same applies to the (I believe) essential Christian pursuit of character and compassionate action: I don’t want a spirituality that is permissive, that doesn’t challenge me, that is merely self-congratulatory rather than stretching and demanding. The positive and perhaps well-intended message of “God loves you just the way you are” at its best seems to affirm the worth and beauty and unique gifting of all and at its worst seems a license for moral apathy, negligence, and arrogant inflexibility. I think "journey" must always be emphasized over "arrival"; maybe no one should assume to have "arrived" anywhere.

I hope to journey down the road a little further in many areas in 2013. I hope to exercise frequently and with variety. I hope to continue the diminishing of sugar and white flour from my diet, while also attending to portion size. I hope to have better posture while sitting at my desk (I just sat up straight as I began that sentence).  I hope to improve my email and phone correspondence with those for whom I care most. I hope to be a better listener—talking less, understanding more.

I hope to accept my inability to "fix" people who don’t welcome my fixing (this usually doesn’t end well, trying to fix those who haven’t given me permission to fix them). I hope to gain reading competency in two languages (simultaneously close to and far from this goal). I hope to inch a little closer to clarity about my scholarly focus, while taking in a wealth of insight from the massive amounts of reading expected of me this year (still in the broad, exploratory stage of my doctoral program).

I hope to make the necessary repairs to my alto saxophone and pick that back up (perhaps develop an alter ego a la Ron Swanson from Parks and Rec). I hope to learn more quinoa-centric dishes. I hope to love now nearly eight-month-old Clara and accept her as she is, not pushing her beyond what she’s ready for while attentively guiding her development where it’s appropriate. I hope to better understand how to positively influence (and endure, if necessary) those social/institutional structures that might be good in theory but are in actuality broken, impersonal, harmful, and deeply in need of reform.

I hope to less often leave my sweatshirts and water glasses strewn around the house so that Joann doesn’t have to pick up after me like I’m her child. I hope to be a more courageous person, not bound by egocentric fears and doubts and free to act boldly and rightly. I hope I have a slightly better grasp of what God is like and what God cares about and where God can be found. I hope it snows in the bay area this year.

And I hope I quickly get over my hope that it will snow in the bay this year so that I don’t cling to obviously doomed hopes, because, that’s silly.

It's...That...Time of Year: Paper Writing

I don’t have much to say at the moment as most of my mental energy is being poured into final papers. But I wanted to share some gems from Thomas Merton encountered in my research. I’ve been exploring Merton’s engagement with Taoism and Zen Buddhism and his appropriation of each for Christian spirituality.

This is first of three papers in process. I’m also working on a comparative methodological study of Spener (17^th German Pietist theologian) and Schleiermacher (18^th century German liberal theologian) as well as a comparative ethical study of Luther and Aquinas (more dead guys) applied to contemporary church discipleship/spiritual formation. A nice diversity of topics...a little spirituality, a little theology, a little ethics. Though I think when all is said and done, the Merton paper (which has been the most ambitious and time-consuming) will have been the most fun.

Some Merton gems before I get back to work:

From Thoughts in Solitude on learning and growing:

Living is not thinking. Thought is formed and guided by objective reality outside us. Living is the constant adjustment of thought to life and life to thought in such a way that we are always growing, always experiencing new things in the old and old things in the new. Thus life is always new. (28)

From Thoughts on the East on Zen and a very American problem:

We in the West, living in a tradition of stubborn egocentric practicality and geared entirely for the use and manipulation of everything, always pass from one thing to another, from cause to effect, from the first to the next and to the last and then back to the first. Everything always points to something else, and hence we never stop anywhere because we cannot: as soon as we pause, the escalator teaches the end of the ride and we have to get off and find another one. Nothing is allowed just to be and to mean itself: everything has to mysteriously signify something else. Zen is especially designed to frustrate the mind that thinks in such terms. The Zen “fact,” whatever it may be, always lands across our road like a fallen tree beyond which we cannot pass. (40)

From Thoughts on the East on Tao and (as I interpret Merton) on an appropriate epistemic humility, on control, and on mystery:

If there is a correct answer to the question “What is the Tao?” it is: “I don’t know.”…The whole secret of life lies in the discovery of this Tao which can never be discovered….The world is a sacred vessel which must not be tampered with or grabbed after. To tamper with it is to spoil it, and to grasp it is to lose it. (12)

From The Asian Journal on the value of interfaith dialogue (Merton concerned himself with dialogue about practice more than about doctrine):

I believe that by openness to Buddhism, to Hinduism, and to these great Asian traditions, we stand a wonderful chance of learning more about the potentiality of our own traditions….The combination of the natural techniques and the graces and the other things that have been manifested in Asia, and the Christian liberty of the gospel should bring us all at last to that full and transcendent liberty which is beyond mere cultural differences and mere externals. (xxiv)

Okay, enough quote bombs. Back to work.

Why I Want to be a Vampire

My wife says I have to write about this. So here goes. The context is that we just went and saw the final Twilight movie last weekend…our first trip to the theater since July. Clara has understandably challenged our frequent movie-going lifestyle of the pre-Clara era. Though to be fair, Clara actually does really well in the two movies we’ve taken her to…sleeps through it all.

Okay, I’m not a Twilight fanboy, to clarify. Though I was admittedly looking forward to the final flick of the series. And I enjoyed it. So there it is.

Why I want to be a vampire. There’s a scene in the movie (possible though not probable spoilers ahead) in which Bella, newly “vampired,” is hunting in the woods. Part of her self-discovery of her new abilities includes her realization that she possesses a strong awareness of her surroundings. We the viewer see through her eyes the intricacy and beauty of the nature around her. It is reminiscent of the attentive mind of Annie Dillard but certainly with a far greater perceptiveness than Dillard possesses. After all…Dillard isn’t a vampire, I don’t believe. Just a writer.

There’d be some downsides to being a vampire, for sure. My daughter might be at risk of getting eaten. I think I’d really regret that. I really like Clara. As a daughter, I mean, not as food.

But becoming a vampire—in the lore of Twilight—is a kind of awakening, a baptism, a new awareness. While vampires are in some sense dead (I think, if I understand the mythology correctly, sorry Twilight geeks, forgive my uncertainty), their death is in ways a movement from frailty to strength, from ignorance to awareness. Vampires can more clearly see things as they are. They don’t just see a tree but seem to really understand that it’s more than just a tree.

I wonder if I were immortal like a vampire, and had this heightened awareness of beauty and complexity, of the sacredness of creation, if I might spend my days just learning, watching. I only have so much time in my day, my year, my life, and so much I have to do. I don’t always have time to savor the world around me. I have to produce, be active, make things happen. Right? That's life, isn't it? But if I were a vampire—and thus had long life and strong senses—I’d probably spend my days learning to enjoy, to watch, to see, to delight in the endless beauty screaming out from the created (and still being created) world around me.

That’s why I want to be a vampire. Or, at least start acting more like one...but maybe not in all ways. I tried gelatinous pig’s blood when I lived in China. That was all the blood I think I'll ever need.

Oh, and, for the record, I’m still “Team Charlie.”

Also, here are a couple old pics from July that Joann thought were relevant to the topic. I was trying to play Clara like an electric guitar. That's my rock star face. Although, now I see that it makes me just look, um, "thirsty." Perhaps the transformation has already begun.

Thankfulness (Or, I Drank a Bottle of Wine Yesterday)

Joann and I toasted our glasses before our Thanksgiving meal yesterday (the first turkey I’ve ever cooked...turned out well, if I may so). We actually always practice a “toast of gratitude” before our meals. This is partly because typical pre-meal prayers weren’t working for us anymore, but we didn’t want to complete negate some kind of pre-meal, religious, awareness-producing ritual. Asking God to bless our food and bless whatever else came to mind in that particular prayer seemed to be losing its meaning for us.

While I’m sure there are ways to re-infuse meaning into such a prayer, we have, for this season at least, opted for a toast, raising our glasses (or an applesauce jar and a maple syrup container when we forgot to grab beverages for our breakfast-for-dinner meal earlier this week) while taking turns mentioning something for which we’re grateful. Thanksgiving, and these “prayers” in general, make me want to live with a greater sense of gratitude, and to more frequently pray prayers of thankfulness.

Maybe others have experienced the occasional discomfort I have felt with prayers that by their nature express our discontent with some aspect of the present reality. I’ve prayed that God would relieve some burden, change some circumstance, give me more of this, give me less of that.

Some of my prayers have expressed authentic, heart-felt angst that I believe God cares about. Some of my prayers have revealed my needs to myself, a self-awareness I imagine God values. Some of my prayers have involved wishing change for others, which feels less self-centered. But I realize some of my prayers might also have conveyed to eavesdroppers an image of God as my personal servant, someone to help me out of a tight spot, or even God as a sort of drug, something to diminish the pain of a troubling circumstance.

I confess I'm a bit suspicious of such a view of God, regardless of the level of confidence with which my Christian culture believes that this is what God asks of us…to ask God for things so that God can meet our needs. I do think of God as a kind of comforting, attentive parent, and believe this to be a positive image. Yet I see the potential dangers--maybe an inflated ego, sense of entitlement, disappointment at "unanswered" prayers, among other things--that come with a God to whom we make requests.

What I want more of in my spirituality is gratitude. A heightened awareness of the endless gifts that abound all around me. A gratitude for the people in my life and the unique journey they are on and gifts they possess. Gratitude for my health. For beauty. For the way people can laugh together, comfort one another. For warmth, for coolness. For black and for white and for gray. For clarity and for mystery.

For scents, tastes, sights, sounds, textures. For progress and improvement. For grace in the midst of regression. For supportive people in painful circumstances. For imagination and creativity. For that bird flying in that flock above as I run, as well as every other bird in that same flock, all perhaps initially so simple-looking but actually increasingly complex the more they are examined on the ladder from behavior to biology to chemistry to physics and beyond.

For the gift of life, just as it is, without modification, without a need to wish for better circumstances, with an awareness that the present moment is good and beautiful, and that I need not wish only to be elsewhere, for better or just different times, but can experience deep profound joy and peace just by opening my eyes and looking around.

It is certainly not a new insight for me to point out how humans are often more inclined to use the world than to enjoy it…to see the world as something to be consumed rather than savored. I often eat my meals too fast…a tendency I learned in school growing up, I think, when the faster you ate your food, the more recess time you got. It takes a certain amount of discipline to eat slowly and savor a meal. I desire this discipline to extend beyond just eating to the whole of my life…to live in gratitude for what’s in front of me.

So I guess I do have a more demanding sort of prayer, the kind I semi-critiqued above: that God would remove whatever hinders me from seeing and from savoring that which is all around me...those "gifts" that should leave me in a constant state of gratitude for my existence and for the richness of that existence, just as it is, without any change. I kind of wonder if God isn't often saying to people something like "don't look at me...look around."

Oh, and this:

The Fear of Being Found Out

How harmful to my health is my fear of being found out? I wonder what it would be like if you could quantify the extent to which our fear of being exposed burdens us and drains us (I'm visualizing the scene from The Princess Bride in which future years of Wesley's life are being "sucked away"). This question came to me while running, probably because I was thinking about how while exercise energizes, it also depletes (especially considering I was running up a fairly steep hill at the time).

Emotional/mental stress—in addition to physical—is draining. Pressures like work, family, deadlines, projects, money, conflict, etc all can have the effect of sapping one’s energy, one’s spirit (which of course affects the body as well). I wonder specifically about the fear of being “found out” or revealed. Having the truth of who we are exposed. I think this phenomenon takes different forms in different people, but my assumption is that most people deal with this “stressor” in some way. That is, the stress derived from the fact that who we actually are may not exactly match who we want to be and how we want to be perceived…and that people are going to find out.

Maybe it has to do with appearance, and so we dress a certain way to hide our imperfections. Maybe it’s some kind of awareness, and so we act like we know about something happening in the political or entertainment world, lest we appear out-of-touch. Maybe it’s listening, and so we pretend like we heard someone, for fear that we’ll seem disrespectful and unreliable if they realize we didn’t hear them. Maybe it’s clever conversational maneuvering when we’re obviously wrong, where we try to twist the discussion in a way that makes us think we’re showing the person that we are actually right, just in a different way (“that’s what I meant!” or “I know” or “right, that’s what I was saying when…”).

Maybe this thing, whatever it is—lack of authenticity, insecurity, a need to prove ourselves, the desire to be respected—comes out in the various facets of life. Perhaps we hide our mistakes at work to appear competent and not threaten our livelihood or potential advancement. Perhaps we are fearful in school when a subject is being discussed we know little about that we’re actually behind the curve and thus don’t really have what it takes to be successful. Perhaps we don’t admit our failures in marriage because humility often feels uncomfortable and we don’t want to give someone power over us.

Maybe this thing happens in religious culture, where it seems there could be a lot of pressure to “be” a certain way. You’re not feeling what the pastor tells you that you should be feeling? “Fake it ‘til you make it,” a friend once said, describing his church experience. You’re bearing the weight of “sins” you feel like you can’t admit because even though people tell you it’s safe, you’re worried they’ll judge you and look at you differently, maybe even exclude you. You’re surrounded by a certain way of speaking, praying, a certain level of enthusiasm, a particular personality type, a particular form of self-expression, so you try to adapt to that particular religious culture so as not to seem “behind” and, in so doing, lose that sense of “come as you are,” replaced by “act like you think you’re expected to act.”

It seems there are a lot of instances in life where people feel like they have to in some sense “hide” themselves, because they think what’s there is unattractive, unlikable, inadequate. We may not have what it takes, and we don’t want others to know we don’t have what it takes. We may be embarrassed, and we don’t want to feel those emotions. We may hurt someone, and we don’t want to hurt anybody. We may have to reveal to the world that we’re actually not as smart, attractive, skilled, virtuous, reliable, or competent as we want them to think we are…and that we’re actually very fallible, weak, filled with contradictions, unrefined, unskilled, and limited. And maybe we don’t want to admit that to ourselves or anyone else.

And so many of us (though maybe not you) live in a certain amount of fear, the fear of being exposed. People might find out we really don’t have the waistline our clothes make it seem we do. Or that we lack some basic life skill that for whatever reason we never really picked up. Or that we aren’t really that familiar with that one hip but not yet overly popular band's music. Or that we don’t really understand more than basic, surfacy arguments for why one economic theory is better than the other when we make our pronounced political statements on Facebook. Or that we are severely addicted to some vice we can't give up (and, maybe worse, don't really want to give up). Or that we aren’t really that patient or peaceful of a person even though we can hold it together for a while in public but then start to crack once you’ve hung out with us for a while and gotten to see a fuller picture of our true character. Or that we don't know the answer, or a lot of the answers.

Inauthenticity. Not letting others see the real us. I wonder how much healthier we would be if we didn’t live with this kind of fear. I wonder how much healthier our relationships would be if we didn’t live with this kind of fear. I wonder how much freer we’d be. I wonder what is more damaging to life-long health: smoking cigarettes, eating too much sugar, or hiding.

How Does Your Spirituality Make You a Better Person?

Does your spirituality (or religion or faith) improve your character? This question comes to mind often in my studies, and I’m intrigued by what others think. But let me first offer some hopefully helpful clarifications.

First, character. What I’m getting at by "character" is the kind of person you are, your virtue, and the effect you have on others. Maybe “sanctification” is a better way to think of it. Maybe holiness. Maybe moral progress. Maybe goodness. Is there anybody you know that you look at and say something akin to “wow, what a really good person.”

I mean thoroughly good, not somebody you also kind of find hypocritical, shallow, doing good things for selfish reasons. Somebody who is, for example, exceptionally patient, gracious, courageous, sacrificial, tactful, creative, organized, joyful, detached, etc. I want to leave open what “good” and “better” mean because I’m not convinced there’s one right answer to that question.

Secondly, there are other benefits to being religious or spiritual that I’m not asking about here. For example, perhaps your faith has “saved” you in a cosmic or spiritual sense, setting you on the path toward eternal bliss and/or peace. That’s awesome! But that’s not really directly (as much as indirectly) about how you are “better” in a way that positively affects others.

You may have found inner peace through your faith, or the fulfillment of a longing, or something to keep you entertained, or a place to belong, etc. Spirituality and religious faith can fulfill all sorts of needs, temporal and eternal. Those are important and central to why we believe and practice what we do. I don’t dismiss them.

But my question here, and maybe a hard one because it potentially involves thinking/talking about how great you are: how has your spirituality specifically improved your character? How has it made you a better person? Answering this question might first mean asking yourself how you construe “goodness” in yourself and others.

If you’d say that this isn’t the point of your spirituality—that the purpose of your spirituality is to humble you and show you how you can’t become better and can only rely on the grace or favor of God—then I guess this might be an irrelevant or odd question for you. Because in that case, spirituality is not really supposed to make you better because spirituality can’t make you better; that’s not its goal. Or maybe you'd admit that there's a place for character formation, but it's not as important as simply living with gratitude for the grace and goodness of God. Maybe that would affect how you'd answer this question.

I welcome feedback. And, if you are more comfortable talking about others than yourself for fear of sounding proud (or for whatever reason), maybe talk about someone you know: how do you think your friend/acquaintance’s spirituality has made them a better human being? What quality/qualities do you/they possess that probably wouldn’t be present in them were it not for their religious/spiritual devotion?

(For example: “I used to be very self-entitled and possessive of my stuff, but my spirituality has enabled me to release control of things and made me a much more generous person, and I feel like people around me experience that generosity. Or, “my friend really took herself too seriously until she found God; now she is much more lighthearted and laughs a lot…her sense of humor and ability to laugh at herself and help others laugh at themselves is a huge blessing to all who know her.” Don’t get too distracted or bound by my format…just trying to generate ideas, ways of articulating a possible response.)

I certainly think spirituality can make you better in a way that benefits others. As a Christian, I believe God desires all to become more fully human, more fully alive, more fully in tune with the divine, and, as a consequence of these things—more good. I just don’t know that people's spirituality always does make them better people. But where it does, I’m eager to know how. What does that “character improvement” look like in your life and the lives of those you know?

My main goal of asking? Curiosity, I guess. I try to be a good student and ask lots of questions. :)