I am feeling a little weakened this weekend. Not because I overindulged in Thanksgiving festivities, but that I didn't do so enough. When the time came to state something I was thankful for this year, all I could think about was that I had a group project due this Monday, and half the group had gotten a start on theirs already. I was approaching the matter holistically - trying to get a feel for the subject I was undertaking so as to notice more factors and avoid overlooking details.
It was as I told my visiting older sister, whom I adore: Whenever I conjure up my own measurements and work, I don't trust myself as a reliable source. But when I derive a metric from an online (and hopefully more current), I don't feel like I am doing valuable work in the group. I know that I tend to overthink matters, to the point of paralysis on my part. Hank Green of the VlogBrothers on YouTube entitles this frame of mind as "brain crack" - ideas that are addictive to think about, but ultimately never acted upon by the thinker.
I am aware that this double standard to my own work is a pity party parade. I do not want or expect sympathy for this behavior, but want to wield this dissatisfaction as a tool rather than letting it rule me. If my standards for proper decent work are higher than merely "plug n' chug," this skepticism could reap superior results. There remains the risk that this extra analysis might have an opportunity cost - making me sacrifice in other areas. Oh, how time is whittled away by my daily activities and pursuits. I mention it so often as a personal reminder not to lose sight of its importance.
So, I am not operating at 100% the past few days, but I have resumed reading G.K. Chesterton's "Return of Don Quixote." It took a little time, but its presence has served as an excellently entertaining companion in my time of recuperation. I don't understand all of the details of the issues discussed in the novel, but I get the gist of their underlying themes through the attitudes and reactions of the characters within.
I love the librarian character, Michael Herne. He is someone I would like to be, though I currently have a measure of his frustrating disconnect from the present period's ideas and importances. He is a scholar on a particular race of Hittites. It is his field of study and he lives in his mental landscapes and cultural customs. He is awakened to a different calling, when the daughter of the lord who employs his services is in a medieval play written by her friend, and they ask him to play a small part.
He is flustered that it is not in his period, saying that someone else who is an authority in that era should be chosen to play such a role. He takes the historical accuracy of the matter so humbly serious that he fears that if he were to attempt the role, he would act in the manner of a Hittite rather than medieval troubadour. I love the fellow so dearly, though he is one of the hardest to understand in his references.
I read chapter 11 of the book aloud to a camera, it is a fine portion of the book and a specially interesting one for Herne the librarian's character blossoming into a more obvious version of his deeply rooted demeanor. I do not live in a Chesterton novel, but the ideals and earnestness of the players make me wish I could. Their society would certainly raise my intelligence by osmosis.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Carefull - Wreckless
I am stuffed on song lyrics right now. From Fall Out Boy's "I don't care what you think as long as it's about me. The best of us can find happiness in misery." From that to springboard to Good Charlotte's "Don't you know that misery loves company,
Yeah I heard that misery was looking for me. Happiness, is a face that don't look good on me. Yeah I heard, that misery comes looking for me
Whoa, misery's my company. Whoa, misery is looking for me." To Skillet's "Going through this life, looking for angels. People passing by. Looking for angels. Going down the street, looking for angels. Everyone I meet. Looking for angels." To Christine Dent'e's "We're lifted up by angels. Higher than the world. Strong enough to leave it. Bound to learn the secret angels never heard. Close enough to heaven. High above the rain. Darkness cannot reach us, let the angels teach us - only love remains. We're lifted up by angels."
I could continue this association for a while, but I find that I would like to leave my thought train at this station and explore my ideas on this subject further. As mentioned earlier, I love Newsboy's "Entertaining Angels." Not only is it a fine beginning with the violin, but the odd chorus fixes in my mind the idea that angels may walk among us at any time. "By the light of my TV screen, 24/7 you wait for me."
Now while it is unlikely that these celestials are television junkies, it grounds the supernatural in the perspective of the everyday routine. At one point I was suspicious that one of my friends was an angel in disguise. I had never seen him angry, he was patient and learned, and wise beyond his years. When I asked him if he was, he laughed and told me he was flattered, but was as mortal as I.
I recall a similar story as related by my mother teaching a sunday school class of 5-7 year olds. An old biker stopped to look in the class in the middle of the lesson. One of the little girls saw his long grey beard and kindly face and declared. "Are you Jesus?" The fellow sagely smiled and replied, "Far from it." But though he made that claim, that man is one of the most Christlike people I have had the pleasure of knowing. This old biker lives his life in a humble and unassuming manner, taking joy in the crafting and creating of objects. He is a skilled carpenter and wise gardener - his woodwork and tomato patches reveal the glory and beauty of nature overseen by the guiding hand of man.
But I digress. I was considering angels. While I believe in their existence, I also admit it is unlikely that I should know them for who they are at the time. Their glowing light in legend and scripture is probably derived from their presence in the company of the Most High God. In the Old Testament, when Moses met with God on the mountain for days, his face shone for days after returning to the camp. So much so, that the children of Israel asked him to wear a veil so as not to blind/distract them. Whatever the case, I serve a God in whom there is no darkness. That is a comforting and fearful thought.
Do you ever notice how something appears all clean and neat under the lighting of a florescent light fixture or fan, but then the sunlight strikes the surfaces - revealing all the streaks, dust, and imperfections that were left behind? Sometimes the truth of a matter shines upon our efforts and reminds us that there is more that can be done - that a greater degree of purity is possible now that we have been shown our errors.
Some of the time, I am resentful of this - Am I not enough already? I have put forth a good effort here, but it apparently wasn't all that it could have been. George Macdonald once said, "God is easy to please, but hard to satisfy." In the introduction in which I read that, the author commented that God is happy with our progress so far, but sees our potential for what we COULD be. However, I don't always see what shape my future might take, so my pity parties only hurt my chances that I refuse to acknowledge I have. If I wait too long, that opportunity of a future version of myself will fade, opening different outcomes and possibilities.
That is why I believe in open theism: It is much more exciting as a Creator to allow the work of your hands to play out to its own ends. Oh, I could intervene along the way if I was in control, but only if necessary - for the observation of how the domino effects of the choices life-bearing creatures make must be entertaining for my Heavenly Father. Oh how it must delight Him when one of His creation looks beyond their own circumstances and situation, & catches a glimpse of the larger picture. Or when we declare our love and gratitude to Him for the wonderful gifts and tools He has given us to use in this beautiful sandbox of a world.
Sometimes, I make mistakes and ill choices' consequences must be weathered and lessons must be learned. As C.S. Lewis wrote: "Experience, that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God, how you learn." Thought my choices may not always be optimal or well-reasoned, I shouldn't regret them once they are set. I can only correct their damage after the fact, accept the scars I receive, and resolve to listen better and be wiser the next time something of the type happens.
Angels. Messengers of the Most High. Soldiers in His Celestial Army. Why should I expect that they should appear anthropomorphic? It is a smidge vain and egotistical to assume that God would be limited to our template of form and shape. But, as a child, I am limited and finite in my musings of the abstract - I have to remind myself that I am a child of an imaginative Father. He is Life, He is Creator, He is Sustainer. "All things were made by Him; and without Him was not any thing made that was made." John 1:3 "For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen." Romans 11:36.
So, I go through this life, this time that I am apportioned on Earth. May I be ever grateful for the span in which I have, the abilities and seasons at each stage. I look for angels, but do not demand a sign and proof of their reality. As John L. Cooper of Skillet ends last track of the Comatose project. "Angels show up in the strangest of places." - Looking for Angels.
Whoa, misery's my company. Whoa, misery is looking for me." To Skillet's "Going through this life, looking for angels. People passing by. Looking for angels. Going down the street, looking for angels. Everyone I meet. Looking for angels." To Christine Dent'e's "We're lifted up by angels. Higher than the world. Strong enough to leave it. Bound to learn the secret angels never heard. Close enough to heaven. High above the rain. Darkness cannot reach us, let the angels teach us - only love remains. We're lifted up by angels."
I could continue this association for a while, but I find that I would like to leave my thought train at this station and explore my ideas on this subject further. As mentioned earlier, I love Newsboy's "Entertaining Angels." Not only is it a fine beginning with the violin, but the odd chorus fixes in my mind the idea that angels may walk among us at any time. "By the light of my TV screen, 24/7 you wait for me."
Now while it is unlikely that these celestials are television junkies, it grounds the supernatural in the perspective of the everyday routine. At one point I was suspicious that one of my friends was an angel in disguise. I had never seen him angry, he was patient and learned, and wise beyond his years. When I asked him if he was, he laughed and told me he was flattered, but was as mortal as I.
I recall a similar story as related by my mother teaching a sunday school class of 5-7 year olds. An old biker stopped to look in the class in the middle of the lesson. One of the little girls saw his long grey beard and kindly face and declared. "Are you Jesus?" The fellow sagely smiled and replied, "Far from it." But though he made that claim, that man is one of the most Christlike people I have had the pleasure of knowing. This old biker lives his life in a humble and unassuming manner, taking joy in the crafting and creating of objects. He is a skilled carpenter and wise gardener - his woodwork and tomato patches reveal the glory and beauty of nature overseen by the guiding hand of man.
But I digress. I was considering angels. While I believe in their existence, I also admit it is unlikely that I should know them for who they are at the time. Their glowing light in legend and scripture is probably derived from their presence in the company of the Most High God. In the Old Testament, when Moses met with God on the mountain for days, his face shone for days after returning to the camp. So much so, that the children of Israel asked him to wear a veil so as not to blind/distract them. Whatever the case, I serve a God in whom there is no darkness. That is a comforting and fearful thought.
Do you ever notice how something appears all clean and neat under the lighting of a florescent light fixture or fan, but then the sunlight strikes the surfaces - revealing all the streaks, dust, and imperfections that were left behind? Sometimes the truth of a matter shines upon our efforts and reminds us that there is more that can be done - that a greater degree of purity is possible now that we have been shown our errors.
Some of the time, I am resentful of this - Am I not enough already? I have put forth a good effort here, but it apparently wasn't all that it could have been. George Macdonald once said, "God is easy to please, but hard to satisfy." In the introduction in which I read that, the author commented that God is happy with our progress so far, but sees our potential for what we COULD be. However, I don't always see what shape my future might take, so my pity parties only hurt my chances that I refuse to acknowledge I have. If I wait too long, that opportunity of a future version of myself will fade, opening different outcomes and possibilities.
That is why I believe in open theism: It is much more exciting as a Creator to allow the work of your hands to play out to its own ends. Oh, I could intervene along the way if I was in control, but only if necessary - for the observation of how the domino effects of the choices life-bearing creatures make must be entertaining for my Heavenly Father. Oh how it must delight Him when one of His creation looks beyond their own circumstances and situation, & catches a glimpse of the larger picture. Or when we declare our love and gratitude to Him for the wonderful gifts and tools He has given us to use in this beautiful sandbox of a world.
Sometimes, I make mistakes and ill choices' consequences must be weathered and lessons must be learned. As C.S. Lewis wrote: "Experience, that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God, how you learn." Thought my choices may not always be optimal or well-reasoned, I shouldn't regret them once they are set. I can only correct their damage after the fact, accept the scars I receive, and resolve to listen better and be wiser the next time something of the type happens.
Angels. Messengers of the Most High. Soldiers in His Celestial Army. Why should I expect that they should appear anthropomorphic? It is a smidge vain and egotistical to assume that God would be limited to our template of form and shape. But, as a child, I am limited and finite in my musings of the abstract - I have to remind myself that I am a child of an imaginative Father. He is Life, He is Creator, He is Sustainer. "All things were made by Him; and without Him was not any thing made that was made." John 1:3 "For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen." Romans 11:36.
So, I go through this life, this time that I am apportioned on Earth. May I be ever grateful for the span in which I have, the abilities and seasons at each stage. I look for angels, but do not demand a sign and proof of their reality. As John L. Cooper of Skillet ends last track of the Comatose project. "Angels show up in the strangest of places." - Looking for Angels.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)