On Tokens

I have been thinking a lot about tokens lately. By this, I don't mean the small bits of metal or plastic that you use to play arcade games (though those might sometimes apply). Rather, I am using the psychological definition of something that serves as a substitute or an intermediate step in acquiring something else. Experiments have shown a monkey inserting a small wooden token into a slot to receive a banana. Although what the monkey wants and needs is a banana, it begins to do whatever it can to gain tokens, because the tokens become equivalent with the idea of the banana.

It is easy to see where this example will lead: our present use of currency. Primitive societies exchange goods or services for other goods and services. More developed societies trade some sort of currency or money for those goods and services. And in our most "developed" societies, the most "successful" people trade money for money. it is silly when you think about it. money used to be just a means to survive, but by our society's definition, it is now both means and end in itself. No matter how many times we hear that money doesn't buy happiness, most people believe that qcquiring more money will, in fact, improve their happiness. But money is just a token. This fact is most brutally tragic when it comes to spending. We associate money with the ability to buy all sorts of things to entertain us, or better yet, to entertain others so that they are impressed with us. This makes money a means to affirmation and a shallow sort of affection. This, then, makes us associate money with receiving love, even though the money brings us nothing in and of itself. Love breeds love, and we end up loving money (the root of all evil, an ultimately fruitless love.

This same pattern exists everywhere in our culture. It is highlighted with startling clarity in the halls of junior high and high schools where the style of a person's hair or clothing or the type of music they listen to or the type of recreation they enjoy will determine whether that person is accepted. All of these insignificant external factors are the basis for whether the entire person, inside and out, is accepted. We end up valuing the external over and above the itnernal, but as we know, "Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart." Our identity is so much more than how we look or the way we speak, but we substitute these for a person's identity, often to a negative effect.

I find this same process to be at work when it comes to receiving academic grades. Waht was intended to be a measure for scuccess has come to signify success itself. Or failure--depending on the grade. So often, people work themselves to death pursuing the highest grade because they think it will be a means to something else: the right college, the right grad school, the right job, or maybe just a nod of approval from a parent. Eventually, the grade becomes the only thing to achieve--not the lessons along the way, perhaps not even the school or job that was the original goal. I have know people who will torture themselves just to achieve a certain grade because that letter has come to be a substitute for approval or affirmation or self-worth.

I guess what I am trying to get at is the question of what the world would be like if we could somehow get rid of these tokens and cheep substitutes and just affirm one another. We wouldn't have to love money or clothes, or the letter "A" written on a paper; we could love the person who smiled at us and said, "Good job." This sounds like an ideal worthy of the hippy generation, and I am sure that it will never be realized until all of Heaven and earth have been made new and become one, but I long for such a world. In that place, there would be no need for poverty because a sincere thanks would be enough for the farmer who no longer needs to pay taxes on the land, and love would teach us to show grace to one another, just like the grace we have received from God.

On Cause for Celebration

This was taken from an e-mail I received last night:

"As Chair and Vice-Chair of the National Playwriting Program for Region 3 of the Kennedy Center's American College Theatre Festival, it gives us special pleasure to inform you that your one act play has been selected for the One Act Play Festival at this year's regional festival in Lansing, MI January 4-8. All the plays were read anonymously by a panel of three readers from outside the region. This year's selection was particularly competitive as we received over sixty one act plays (double last year)."

Saying that I am excited would be a definite understatement.

On Words

Is it strange that the more I learn about words, the less I trust them, and the more I want to dedicate my life to their usage?

On Opening

There is nothing like the first taste of a new book.

you run your fingers over the cover

your thumb catches the edge or the corner

and you open it

a new world

I don't know the story, the characters--who they are or who they will become, where they will go or what they will do. I learn their names, their faces, their habits. I learn their hopes, their disappointments, their secrets. They teach me, and I respond to them.

with a thousand unspoken thoughts

with that slight change in my voice

almost unnoticeable

a slightly different pronunciation perhaps

an added depth

or hollowness

with the words I will write

my words?

or no one's

or everyone's

with the way I look into the faces of strangers

with the way I choose

Pages turn like days, like minutes, like years. A thumb on one page, a forefinger ready to turn the next. The world is new--is changed--is revealed with every turn.

Expectation, anticipation, hope, disappointment, secrets wait within a closed book. Beginning, end, continuation--all moments as one between the covers. A voice, and utterance, a story--waiting to tell, waiting to be heard.

On Turkey Day

I am thankful . . .

for Odysseys

for homecomings

for family

for love I haven't earned and couldn't get rid of even if I wanted to

for hugs

for friends who edify

for friends who call me out when I'm wrong

for friends who are friends even when I don't keep in touch very well

for friends who are friends even when I don't tell them how desperately I care

for them

for good coffee

for good tea

for good bread

for pomegranates

for eggs

for turkey cranberry and brie sandwiches

for berry crumbles

for cider

for scones

for hot chocolate

for cheesecake

for pumpkins

for soup

for stir fry

for cumin

for ginger

for garlic

for soy sauce

for chilli powder

for meals of only fruit and bread and cheese

for a healthy body

for a healthy mind

for ideas

for great writers

for great thinkers

for great painters

for great musicians

for great actors

for challenges

for the stack of books and scripts demanding my attention

for stories

for beginnings

for ends

for the fact that nothing ever truly begins or ends

for loud, bright places

for dark, quiet places

for trees

for water

for clouds

for rain

for stars

for the moon

for the things I've remembered

for the things I've forgotten

for failures

for humanness

for limitations

for weakness

for Grace

for God

On an Itch

Sometimes, I think nothing spawns creativity more effectively than other creativity. This Friday I had the privilege of seeing my dear friend Hannah's senior comprehensive which combined dance and a whole lot of other medium, lots of projections especially. It was astounding. I understood it perfectly and also not at all, which I think would please Hannah a great deal. However, perhaps the greatest thing about seeing it has been that ever since then I have had such a tremendous creative itch that refuses to be assuaged. Every time I scratch this itch, it seems to move to another region, so I am in this constant cycle of pain and desire and relief. It is terrible. And it is glorious.

On Mist

Whenever I think about the fact that we have only a brief time on this earth, and none of my days are guaranteed, I have one of two reactions. Either I am drawn to freak out about all of the many things that I have not done or have not accomplished or wish I could do, or I am drawn to forget about all obligation, desire, or aspiration and to merely live in the moment--be where I am--simply exist and enjoy the things which could be taken away in a moment.

Fortunately (and I mean that sincerely), I am a moderate in temperament (along with most facets of my life), and I do not change so swiftly or easily that either of these inclinations should cause me much trouble. However, I fell them there--always pulling at my mind. And I wonder whether it is greater wisdom to ignore them both or to find the place where they meet and head in that direction.

On Light in the Darkness

The moon stood stately amidst a court of clouds--a cold queen--her silver purity so unattainable that all the fragile humans looking up must fall before we reach her. But when she surveys the land with such a keen glance, with such a grace, I know that there is love in her heart. Love for all of us stumbling around and staring with our mouths agape. And she will take us into her smooth embrace and raises us to her sphere among the stars.