This Sunday was Christmas Sunday, and my church celebrated with a service comprised mostly of singing by both congregation and a fantastic choir. Due to various influences, I ended up at the church for both service sessions that my church has scheduled. A dear friend invited me to sit through the service with her again and I agreed, thinking to myself that it would be nice not only to hear the wonderful music again, but also that it would be an excellent opportunity to do some writing. I like writing during services, and some very good thoughts tend to come out of it. It usually starts on a theme from the service and goes wherever the pen leads, but not always. On this particular morning, I decided to write a poem. With Christmas approaching oh so rapidly, the miracle of Christ's birth has been in my mind, particularly the fact of God becoming man and all of the implications surrounding it. These were some of the thoughts that were poured into the following poem, the product of my mind full of allusions being surrounded for an hour by hearts praising the greatest and humblest being in the universe.
Image
We tried so long
To make man a god
We took the greatest
And made them more
Praised them
Raised them
Exalted them to the highest
But they all
Fell
And showed themselves men and women
With wings of wax
Smoke dissipates
Mirrors shatter
And we see ourselves in the broken glass
Disjointed fragments
Showing a true image
A disconcerting image of disjointed souls
Brutal in its honesty
And the malcontents
Seek another deity
So God
Made himself a man
The greatest
Made himself the lowest
So that perhaps he would be seen
For he is the flawless mirror
That we might see ourselves
A reflection cast in diamond and gold
A truer image
And unbelievable image of what a soul could be.
Breathtaking in its honesty
And the malcontents
Were terrified
We tried so hard
To kill a God
We took the greatest
And made him the sacrifice
Pierced him
Raised him
Put him on display for all to see
And he showed us
Glory
Showing the truest image
In penultimate transparency
Brutal in its ugliness
But beautiful
A radiant image cast in light
Showing the malcontents
Their long-awaited deity.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
On a Novel to be Written
I felt very out of place in the world that day. It was like I was standing in the room without actually being there, almost like I didn't belong. Then again, it wasn't the sort of room where anybody really feels comfortable. My father was on the other side of the room, sort of. Technically speaking, my father's body was on the other side of the room. Whatever it was that made that body my father had departed a few days earlier in a sterile room filled with charts, tubes, and wires. I was avoiding the coffin. I had looked into it once before the viewing started, but I just couldn't look it again. According to legal standards, I had been an adult for a little over a year, but peeking over the edge of that mahogany box and looking at the waxy features that I had seen in every possible expression of emotion allowed by the now dormant muscles beneath, I suddenly became a child again. I was overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all. Tears streamed down my hot cheeks, and my eyes grew all puffy and red. I felt very small.
People had been coming and going all day. You would never expect a real long visitation in a small town like this, but dad was the kind of guy who knew just about everyone, and they all wanted to pay their respects. The line seemed like it would never end. In fact, as afternoon stretched into evening, I was pretty sure it was getting longer. Fortunately our neighbors, the Millers, had come over early to help get things ready. They were good people who had owned the farm across the street from ours for as long as I could remember. I don't know what I would have done without them. They took the responsibility of welcoming people, shaking hands, and trying to offer encouragement. Mrs. Miller had always had a knack for comforting people. I remember having a number of scraped knees bandaged by that gracious woman after a fall while playing with her son, Micah. He was off at college now, studying engineering or something like that, but he was hoping to make it back in time for the funeral. Due to finals or some similarly difficult series of test, he wasn't able to join the long line of mourners that had currently gathered outside of the funeral home. They all wanted to talk to me. I knew most of their names, it's hard not to in a farming community like ours, but it was strange to have them all suddenly so intensely interested in how I was doing. I guess it was because, with dad gone, I would be in charge of the farm. Whenever a property got a new owner in our community, it was the talk of the town. I was hoping that wasn't the only reason they were talking to me, but I wouldn't have been surprised either. They all expected that they would be doing business dealings with me now that my father was gone. I wasn't really the oldest, but I was the one who stayed. I was the only one left.
My brother, Zach, had left five years ago. He had started off planning to go to college, but he dropped out after his first semester. Even then, he didn't come home. No one was all that surprised. Home had always been too small for Zach, or maybe it was beneath him. I was never entirely sure. We got letters from him occasionally, always with a different return address, but they were usually vague or hastily written. From what we could tell, he had become an actor and, if nothing else, was making enough to live on. Apparently his pay was as inconsistent as his correspondence.
I had tried everything possible to get a hold of him when dad's health started failing. He had been fighting cancer for a long time, and the doctors finally gave him six weeks to live. tried to call him, I wrote letters to the last address we had, I even made calls to a few of the friends he had during his brief stay at college, but none of them could give me any information. Still, no reply came. When the end finally came, I went through the whole process again with similar results and finally concluded that Zach had finally forgotten his family and had no intention of looking back at the life that he had worked so hard to escape. That is why I was so surprise when I received a tap on the shoulder and turned around just in time to be clasped in a bear hug so tight it can only come from a brother. I suddenly found myself face to face with my brother, Zach.
People had been coming and going all day. You would never expect a real long visitation in a small town like this, but dad was the kind of guy who knew just about everyone, and they all wanted to pay their respects. The line seemed like it would never end. In fact, as afternoon stretched into evening, I was pretty sure it was getting longer. Fortunately our neighbors, the Millers, had come over early to help get things ready. They were good people who had owned the farm across the street from ours for as long as I could remember. I don't know what I would have done without them. They took the responsibility of welcoming people, shaking hands, and trying to offer encouragement. Mrs. Miller had always had a knack for comforting people. I remember having a number of scraped knees bandaged by that gracious woman after a fall while playing with her son, Micah. He was off at college now, studying engineering or something like that, but he was hoping to make it back in time for the funeral. Due to finals or some similarly difficult series of test, he wasn't able to join the long line of mourners that had currently gathered outside of the funeral home. They all wanted to talk to me. I knew most of their names, it's hard not to in a farming community like ours, but it was strange to have them all suddenly so intensely interested in how I was doing. I guess it was because, with dad gone, I would be in charge of the farm. Whenever a property got a new owner in our community, it was the talk of the town. I was hoping that wasn't the only reason they were talking to me, but I wouldn't have been surprised either. They all expected that they would be doing business dealings with me now that my father was gone. I wasn't really the oldest, but I was the one who stayed. I was the only one left.
My brother, Zach, had left five years ago. He had started off planning to go to college, but he dropped out after his first semester. Even then, he didn't come home. No one was all that surprised. Home had always been too small for Zach, or maybe it was beneath him. I was never entirely sure. We got letters from him occasionally, always with a different return address, but they were usually vague or hastily written. From what we could tell, he had become an actor and, if nothing else, was making enough to live on. Apparently his pay was as inconsistent as his correspondence.
I had tried everything possible to get a hold of him when dad's health started failing. He had been fighting cancer for a long time, and the doctors finally gave him six weeks to live. tried to call him, I wrote letters to the last address we had, I even made calls to a few of the friends he had during his brief stay at college, but none of them could give me any information. Still, no reply came. When the end finally came, I went through the whole process again with similar results and finally concluded that Zach had finally forgotten his family and had no intention of looking back at the life that he had worked so hard to escape. That is why I was so surprise when I received a tap on the shoulder and turned around just in time to be clasped in a bear hug so tight it can only come from a brother. I suddenly found myself face to face with my brother, Zach.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
On Empathy
Someone once said to me, "It is different when you know somebody, when it is right in front of you, and you see it."
Are there downsides to innocence?
Are there different kinds of innocence?
Is it possible to truly understand the dark while still remaining in the light?
These are some of the questions that haunt me from time to time. I long so much to be able to reach people, especially in my writing. Paul said that he became all things to all men. I want to be able to write to all men, but how can I do that if I do not understand them? What must I do to understand? After all, "Understanding is the beginning of empathy." Surely one can remain right with the Lord and still come to understand, but the questions still haunt me.
Are there downsides to innocence?
Are there different kinds of innocence?
Is it possible to truly understand the dark while still remaining in the light?
These are some of the questions that haunt me from time to time. I long so much to be able to reach people, especially in my writing. Paul said that he became all things to all men. I want to be able to write to all men, but how can I do that if I do not understand them? What must I do to understand? After all, "Understanding is the beginning of empathy." Surely one can remain right with the Lord and still come to understand, but the questions still haunt me.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
On Anticipation
I feel the sound of so many things calling to me. Ropes around my heart like fate are pulling at me, and if I do not see fit to follow, then I fear my heart shall be wrenched out. Heart, soul, mind, and strenth are being beckoned to go deeper, to dive and to claw at the waters with all of my strength in puruit of the bottom I know I shall never reach. What holds me back? Is it weariness of the pursuit? Is it a subtle fear like an sack of air giving me unwonted buoyancy? Is it apathy? I certainly hope not. I feel like I am on the brink of a mad rush into the unknown, a feeling that has been far too prevalent in me of late. Perhaps this is the deep breath. I wonder what is coming.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
On a Picture I Wish I Could Paint
Sometimes, I think the weather forgets what season it is. Either that or the seasons themselves forget their place. I've noticed that winter is very pushy. He is usually trying to show up early and leave late. It is very unfair to Autumn. What did she ever do to Winter? Well, even though winter does not officially start until the 21st, we have already received enough snow to make us forget that fact. However, Autumn has not forgotten, and she sent a reminder today. The beautiful layer of snow that had grown was wiped away pretty quickly by a nice little warm spell. I think I must be an aesthete, because I could find a degree of beauty even in cold puddles and dirty snow and gloom.
Fall's Last Gasp
Water
On water
On water
On water
On water
With water coming down
Fall's last gasp
In the greyish haze
It was cold
Bitter cold
For a few days in a row
The pond froze
But not quite through
Now it's raining
I can't escape the damp
It hangs everywhere
And it falls
Rain replaces the long resting snow
The ice is thinning
Water underneath
The thin ice
And water rests on top
Once it was snow
Now it is water spread thin
On the milky white ice
A glossy mirror
Smooth
Except for the drops
Here
And there
The slight ripples in the surface
As the rain gently falls
Through the mist
The cold that hangs in the air
Not knowing where to hide
So it mingles with the clouds far above
The overarching grey
Casting its shades of slate on all.
Water
On water
On water
On water
On water
With water coming down
Fall's Last Gasp
Water
On water
On water
On water
On water
With water coming down
Fall's last gasp
In the greyish haze
It was cold
Bitter cold
For a few days in a row
The pond froze
But not quite through
Now it's raining
I can't escape the damp
It hangs everywhere
And it falls
Rain replaces the long resting snow
The ice is thinning
Water underneath
The thin ice
And water rests on top
Once it was snow
Now it is water spread thin
On the milky white ice
A glossy mirror
Smooth
Except for the drops
Here
And there
The slight ripples in the surface
As the rain gently falls
Through the mist
The cold that hangs in the air
Not knowing where to hide
So it mingles with the clouds far above
The overarching grey
Casting its shades of slate on all.
Water
On water
On water
On water
On water
With water coming down
Thursday, December 4, 2008
On Covert Operations
I had a very interesting experience yesterday when I went "off the grid" as it were. Some would argue that, due to my lack of cell phone, I am never really "on the grid" anyway, but this time I was intentional with it.
A friend of mine and I were going to hang out together and study, but we had noted that whenever we make attempts to do this, we end up surrounded by a group of friends that we love, and little studying or homework is actually accomplished. So it was that we made the decision to barricade ourselves in a conference room at SG for three hours and deny all human contact. We told no one of our plans, not out of distaste for their company, but solely because we actually needed to get work done.
This would not normally be a problem, but it just so happened that while I was hidden from the world, my director for a student directed scene decided to move the rehearsal time from 11:15 to 10:00: a wise choice. No one likes starting a rehearsal after 11:00. It is just gross. Apparently, when this decision was made, the world exploded, because no one knew how to contact me. After working for an hour, I briefly emerged from the conference room and was immediately attacked by a fellow actor in my scene, desperate to make sure I knew about the change. She informed me that no one knew how to find me. After this, I hopped on facebook briefly because my mind needed a break from researching, when suddenly facebook chat started thrusting its way into my life. Immediately, two people, one of them another actor, the other not, told me about the change. Later on, two other friends happened to see us in the conference room, and while chatting for a bit, they made sure that I knew that the rehearsal had been moved. Apparently everyone with whom I have ever come in contact was called in an attempt to discern my whereabouts.
I just found it remarkable how dependent we have become on instant communication. People complain and/or tease me often about the fact that I do not have a cell phone. However, due to the "wonder" of facebook, I am usually reachable. But this one time, when I was out of contact for a scarce three hours, no one knew how to handle it.
Is it wrong that I was very amused by all of this frantic confusion and desperation?
A friend of mine and I were going to hang out together and study, but we had noted that whenever we make attempts to do this, we end up surrounded by a group of friends that we love, and little studying or homework is actually accomplished. So it was that we made the decision to barricade ourselves in a conference room at SG for three hours and deny all human contact. We told no one of our plans, not out of distaste for their company, but solely because we actually needed to get work done.
This would not normally be a problem, but it just so happened that while I was hidden from the world, my director for a student directed scene decided to move the rehearsal time from 11:15 to 10:00: a wise choice. No one likes starting a rehearsal after 11:00. It is just gross. Apparently, when this decision was made, the world exploded, because no one knew how to contact me. After working for an hour, I briefly emerged from the conference room and was immediately attacked by a fellow actor in my scene, desperate to make sure I knew about the change. She informed me that no one knew how to find me. After this, I hopped on facebook briefly because my mind needed a break from researching, when suddenly facebook chat started thrusting its way into my life. Immediately, two people, one of them another actor, the other not, told me about the change. Later on, two other friends happened to see us in the conference room, and while chatting for a bit, they made sure that I knew that the rehearsal had been moved. Apparently everyone with whom I have ever come in contact was called in an attempt to discern my whereabouts.
I just found it remarkable how dependent we have become on instant communication. People complain and/or tease me often about the fact that I do not have a cell phone. However, due to the "wonder" of facebook, I am usually reachable. But this one time, when I was out of contact for a scarce three hours, no one knew how to handle it.
Is it wrong that I was very amused by all of this frantic confusion and desperation?
Monday, December 1, 2008
On Feigning Friendship
Welcome December. It is good to see you again. You're looking good this year. How have you been? You know, you are among the more well reputed months of the twelve. People spend much of the year looking forward to seeing you. This is probably true for a few reasons. For one thing, your name is associated with winter. Even though that season does not officially start until the 21st, Autumn is pretty much passed by the time you show up. Nonetheless, only four months get the privilege of hosting a change in season. I guess that is a part of your renown. With that change in season you also get to host the winter solstice, the longest day of the year. Even though most people do not really mark it, they are aware of it, and the hope of days with more sunlight is a hope worth having, and that is a hope you give them. Also associated with winter is the coming of snow, at least in those regions fortunate enough to be blessed by this form of precipitation. As much as people tend to complain about it, deep down everyone has at least a little appreciation for snow. And you are lucky. Other months go garbed in white. January and February and usually March display the wintry powder. Even April and November have been known to display snow. However, you are lucky because while you are around, people still enjoy the snow. It is fresh and clean and covers over the decay left by Autumn's passing. By the time February and March roll around, snow is well out of season, and the white has usually gotten old and been stained by then. People generally want a change after seeing so many months dressed the same. However, you are not blamed for this, because you make the snow popular.
These are all veritable reasons for your fame, but I think that the most significant cause is Christmas. You were fated long ago to bear that holiday. I think it is time you knew that we humans are very shallow, especially those of us who are Americans. We are also quite materialistic. That Christmas of yours (I suppose I should also include Hanukkah and Kwanzaa, to be fair) has provided us an opportunity to be unremorsefully selfish and focus entirely on our own wants. You give us gifts, and that more than anything is why people love you. Every month is host to a handful of birthdays, thus endearing a select group of people to each month. However, you have the constant. Especially now that Christmas is commercial, it is a holiday that everyone can enjoy, a holiday that brings gluttony to all. If it were not for the fact that you were such a good acquaintance with Ole Saint Nick, we would probably get sick of your gray skies and slick roads a lot quicker. As it is, we will endure them for the sake of presents, not to mention the days off that we get. I hate to break it to you, but this love we have for you is not founded on depth of character, or even the fact that this so beloved holiday is associated with the birth of our only Saviour, we just like you for the toys we get. It is a good thing you save Christmas til you are almost gone. That was good thinking on your part. So welcome Christmas, I mean, Winter, that is...shoot, what's your name? Oh yes...uh...December, that's it, December! Welcome December. It is good to see you. Now where are my presents?
These are all veritable reasons for your fame, but I think that the most significant cause is Christmas. You were fated long ago to bear that holiday. I think it is time you knew that we humans are very shallow, especially those of us who are Americans. We are also quite materialistic. That Christmas of yours (I suppose I should also include Hanukkah and Kwanzaa, to be fair) has provided us an opportunity to be unremorsefully selfish and focus entirely on our own wants. You give us gifts, and that more than anything is why people love you. Every month is host to a handful of birthdays, thus endearing a select group of people to each month. However, you have the constant. Especially now that Christmas is commercial, it is a holiday that everyone can enjoy, a holiday that brings gluttony to all. If it were not for the fact that you were such a good acquaintance with Ole Saint Nick, we would probably get sick of your gray skies and slick roads a lot quicker. As it is, we will endure them for the sake of presents, not to mention the days off that we get. I hate to break it to you, but this love we have for you is not founded on depth of character, or even the fact that this so beloved holiday is associated with the birth of our only Saviour, we just like you for the toys we get. It is a good thing you save Christmas til you are almost gone. That was good thinking on your part. So welcome Christmas, I mean, Winter, that is...shoot, what's your name? Oh yes...uh...December, that's it, December! Welcome December. It is good to see you. Now where are my presents?
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