Happy New Year! I have too many topics to have a proper title.

So, just an update: I am doing a horrible job at this whole 'only fight for love' deal. Still working on it.



It seems the world currently has an exceptionally skewed perception of what happiness is. You ask someone to define happiness and one person will say "feeling good", and another will say "being content", another "the opposite of depressed". Not to mention the ambiguity that is found in each of these statements.

To me, happiness is more than just contentedness or pleasure and is not a result of circumstances but rather an ability to go beyond or overcome them, if necessary. Happiness is rooted in God - and I say rooted because God is stability, God is my rock. No matter what is happening in the world - great or catastrophic - happiness is the ability to pick yourself up (or take yourself down a notch), dust off, and be all right; the ability to live life - with a smile (if necessary), laughing when something's funny, not bringing other people down. And that ability comes only when a person is rooted in something that stays, when someone has a foundation. Logically, the most trustworthy thing to be rooted in is God, because He is the only thing that is indubitably (Say that aloud. It's fun.), perpetually stable.

One last comment: Being elated and on-top-of-the-world all the time is not my kind of happiness. Happiness requires, I think, an ability to recognize suffering and overall the ability to overcome it, and therefore the ability to recognize grace.

Thanks to Sal for helping me work out these ideas, and being the mastermind behind many of them. Credit to her.



Christmas shouldn't be so stressful. I think it's an important and invaluable skill to be able to forget about the stress and focus on the miracle. Not that this hasn't been said before.
My mom's iPod was stolen on Christmas Eve out of her car in the church parking lot. Ouch.



I've heard often before that imperfections are what make people who they are, that imperfections are the reasons we love them sometimes. I do not love people because of their imperfections. People have imperfections and I love them. How absurd to say I would love someone because of their imperfections, flaws. They are flaws! That's a bad thing! And to be able to recognize the severity (that is, the level of severity) of these flaws is to recognize the absolute greatness of grace.

First of all, I think there are two kinds of flaws. (I split them up only for the sake of this blog and clarity, I suppose - in reality it's very hard to label all flaws and depends on situations and specificity rather than generalities. I hope not to eat my words. I often do.) There is flaws(1): Those that are generally trivial and really just nuisances. And flaws(2): Those that keep us away from God - these are sins. Maybe more on this another time. I leave it up to your imagination for now.

Many seem to want to believe that people are defined by their flaws, that flaws give us our identities, that flaws are what make up who we are. I disagree. Pehaps, maybe, flaws(1). But I think that it is not so much our flaws that make up who we are but rather how we deal with them - negatively or positively. The kleptomaniac that doesn't steal certainly doesn't deserve to go to jail, and rather should be commended. Also, isn't it entirely unfair to neglect strengths? Certainly strengths make up a great deal more of who we are than do flaws.

I really, as a person, don't want to be defined by my flaws, and don't understand why anyone would. It seems almost as if it was meant as some sort of sick comfort to the first person who came up with the idea that we are defined by flaws - "Don't worry, nobody is perfect. You're not perfect either; that's why I love you. (Maybe, a little bit, it makes me feel better about myself.)" I might not be making any sense, or maybe I'm just being mean and cynical. I believe wholeheartedly, though, that two people can have all the same flaws, or have no flaws at all, and still be entirely individual.



I used to think that if something was meant to be, there was nothing we could do to keep it from happening. Forestall - certainly, but, inevitably, as it was meant to be, it would be. I do not believe that anymore. I'm not entirely sure what made me believe it in the first place. One part wishful thinking, one part trust in authority, one part naivete probably. There is no 'meant to be'. Things that end up well do so by chance or because God played a very big role. I am noticing (and adoring) lately God's awesome ability to make something good out of something humans have screwed up - He has turned a horrible mistake into something incredible and augmented, can make terrible falters into absolute beauty, fatal and seemingly trivial miss-steps into invaluable experience and the utmost evil into something wonderful, or into the most heartfelt contrition. Things aren't meant-to-be. Humans screw up perfect opportunities and situations all the time. The miracle is that God can fix it, or that God can give you another perfect opportunity, or that God can make your biggest mistake into something that saves your life - and ten (or ten million) others' as well.


A little familial promotion: Check out Country Mouse, my brother's and cousin's and sister's boyfriend's band. I like them a lot and experienced recently the fact that they're way better live than on their myspace right now. Whoo!


In other words, you'll be happy to know that I've watched my two favorite movies (The Bourne Ultimatum and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix) each at least five times now. I got them for Christmas, along with a new camera. But that's an old picture (above).

Anyway, merry Christmas and happy New Year!



Currently reading: The Bourne Ultimatum, Robert Ludlum

Currently listening to: Country Mouse, The Classic Crime, Dear and the Headlights

feminism and abortion, dealing with emotion, self- vs. God-esteem.

Something I considered interesting: Susan B. Anthony, one of the huge feminists and advocate of women's rights, once called abortion "the horrible crime of child-murder". The point I hold particularly close is that which she makes in saying, "Much as I deplore the horrible crime of child-murder, earnestly as I desire its suppression, I cannot believe with* the writer of the above-mentioned article, that such a law would have the desired effect. It seems to be only mowing off the top of the noxious weed, while the root remains."
An example, I think, in which the systematic worldview really needs to be employed. But I won't get into it.
(This information found on p.45 of "50 Things You're Not Supposed To Know", by Russ Kick, gratefully borrowed from Sal of companionableills - thanks!)
*['Believe with' doesn't make very much sense to me, but that's how it was written.]



It seems to me there are two sides of the spectrum for dealing with emotion (stemming from two perceptions of it):
In an instance of the first, a person does not perceive emotion as something not of oneself. The anger I am feeling is me. This is one version of me: the angry version. I don't recognize emotion as something that is happening to me, nor do I recognize it really as something at all. This, I think, is often a person with a temper, a person out-of-control, or a person who buries emotions or is unable to deal with or work through them.
In an instance of the second, on the other hand, a person views emotions as something. Emotions are tangible and there and, though inevitable and unavoidable, things that can be dealt with. There is with this perspective the danger, however, in dehumanizing emotions. It is so extremely possible to think about and analyze emotions so much that they aren't emotions anymore - reactions become dull or nonexistent and even another encounter with the trigger of the emotion can elicit no emotional response.
(Some people, of course, fall under neither of these categories. I suppose I haven't quite figured out those ones.)

It is interesting to me the ways in which the two kinds of people use the mediums of emotional expression (music, art, poetry, etc.). These mediums, undoubtedly, are potentially consuming - music, from my experience, especially (but perhaps this is only because it is the one to which I am closest). A person of the first perspective, it seems, is more susceptible to being consumed. I would definitely consider these mediums of expression demonstrations or substantiations of emotion, and so, a person that does not recognize (emotion) these mediums of expression as something of which to be wary, or something that can be manipulated to one's benefit, far more easily falls victim. It is far more difficult to defend yourself against an enemy when he is not visible. Contrarily, a person of the second perspective, by employing these mediums of expression as a means of substantiation, more often is able to make them tangible (there should be a verb for this) enough, conceptualize them enough that they are no longer abstract, to be able to work with them.



So many organizations, Christian ones the top among them, seem to say, "You are so valuable! You are so wonderful! Believe in yourself!" They stress the importance of self-esteem. It is very frustrating for me.

I do not believe that humanity deserves self-esteem. God doesn't need you. The world doesn't need you. The world needs God, and you do as well. We do not deserve or in any way need self-esteem; what we need is God-esteem. What we need is humility: the ability to recognize the nature of our humanity, and then to throw ourselves before God anyway. The ability to say, "Lord, take this shell of a soul and make it whole again, so that it can work for you." We do not need self-esteem. We do not need any inkling, any shadow of the dirty lie that we can make any sort of good on our 'merit' alone.


Currently reading: aforementioned book, and its sequel

Currently listening to: soundtrack to Notre-Dame
Seattle Sessions acoustic EP, by the Classic Crime (Yay, I have it!)
We're So Far Away, Mae

God is free and more from there.

Quite stream-of-consciousness and all over the place, I'm sorry:

Our group in TOK did a presentation Friday on free will, and the question was raised: Is God free? My bit:
God is not bound to do good works; good works are bound to be done by God. He is the paradigm. The standard. The original. You might ask, "Then what makes it good? Who decided that what God does is good?" Irrelevant. Things are only good because God did them. God is free to do whatever He pleases. We must understand that we are made in God's image, we are created in love, and that our very bodies, souls, world, and reality are put together, run by good. So every action that is not reconciled with God is one that is directly against our nature and the way we were made. God made us in such a way that we run on good so it is essentially stupid (I don't mean to be accusatory - I am the most stupid of them all) to try to work any differently - it is like a bird trying to fly without using its wings. There is such a thing as good and evil in the world, a true force of right and wrong. But we cannot think that God is somehow bound by this force and the reason He is so great is that He fulfills its wishes perfectly. God is this force. The reason God is great is not that He strives for or reaches perfection the best - He is the reason we know what perfection is. He is the only thing - force, power, standard - we answer to. To believe otherwise - that there is some standard that God fulfills (or, in some cases, to believe that there is some standard that it is impossible for something to fulfill and so God does not exist) - is to believe that there is another force or power that God answers to, which is to believe there is another god. Where does it go from there? Thus, God is the standard. We are not like God in our endeavor of perfection (because God is not in an endeavor of perfection), we are in an endeavor of God.

There is still, largely, the mite in the eye of what makes God the standard. The question of what makes what God decides good. What if we weren't bound by that? I think it's silly to be bothered by this. God made us so that good is good and that's how we work. He very well could have made us another way, and we would have run up against the same exact problem. We must remember that we wouldn't be if God hadn't made us. It's like saying, "I'm really bitter about this whole hunger thing. I don't think it's fair that I have to eat all the time, so I'm gonna stop."

More on this later, I think.


In other news, thanks and respect to our veterans, including my father.

Nonchalance, humans suck at loving, this life in time, and perseverence.

Somewhat fragmented post today:

Why, please, is it a good thing to not care what anyone else thinks of you? Isn't that selfish? Isn't that just a clever excuse to get away with anything, to rationalize anything you might have done that you would have felt sorry for? If it's not, "Everyone else does it, so it's okay," it's "The only reason somebody else doesn't do it is that they're not unique and assertive like I am."
Not always the case, of course.
I just think that the only vacuum it's good to live in is the one in which God rules completely.



Humanity sucks at loving, I'm finding. I thought that I had eliminated all expectations of man but I thought wrong, because my standards have recently been lowered a step further. It is very evident to me lately that we are ultimately selfish. As much as we care about someone, as much as we love him or her, it is fundamentally in our nature to choose ourselves when we should choose others, when it is love to choose another. It comes that if there is a decision between doing something for someone else's good and doing something that might make us satisfied or feel good or benefit us, it takes a lot not to choose the latter. It either takes a lot of God making us better or a lot of the kind of love that is in action completely selfless but is only maintained that way because it is entirely selfishly rooted. That is, the kind of love in which it's not really much of a sacrifice at all (because it doesn't feel that way) to us to sacrifice ourselves. (Am I making any sense?)
It seems that we are not loving someone at all each time we don't put him/her first. In that moment we don't love.*

I knew that human love was never perfect, but I was under the impression, for some reason, that it could be pretty much unconditional. I was so wrong though! It takes so much deliberation for it to be even relatively unconditional. It is not easy to love someone all the time, no matter what. (It is impossible to love perfectly - that is, to never screw up, to never hurt [i.e. cause any detriment to] a person - but this is beside the point, I suppose.) We flare up, and lose control, and for a moment don't love. We are apathetic, or lazy, and forget to always be loving. We are stubborn, hold grudges, and are unable to eliminate baggage enough to just allow love to flow. We are judgmental, or not understanding, and it warps our perspectives.
We don't only fail in love under ignorance, we also fail under precise clarity.

I am very bothered recently by the nature in me that stops me from loving when I am perfectly aware that I should, the way in which I could, and what is stopping me from doing so.

I suppose I am just discouraged, and sad. Humanity rears its ugly head always, it seems, when I least expect it.
The best we can do, I think, and what we are obligated to do, is to love deliberately and furiously. A common theme for me of late, I suppose.

*The truth in this depends on, of course, what you consider 'love' to be, and instances in which 'love' is not.



It seems lately that endings are never good. Even if that which is ending was not good, the best we can hope for is bittersweet, for there's always the longing for it to have been better.



It used to trouble me that this life was so short and minimal compared to what eternal life should be. How could that be? Why would God have even given it to us? What's the purpose? But I'm developing a new perspective. I am so limited by my perception of time and am trying very much to overcome that. Suddenly I'm seeing this life as only a moment of truth, of sorts. A decision. A climax. A struggle. It's organized in the confines of time perhaps to indicate its impermanence and temporality (dictionary.com says the word is "temporalness" but I prefer this) in comparison to eternal life. I think, maybe, I am seeing it as a momentary break in eternal life. It is the means of reaching eternal life (and I'll point out that by eternal life I mean the afterlife inclusively) or, rather, the road you walk before you get there.
This is really, really hard for me to express. Do I make any sense?



I know I'm not done falling; I know I'll never be. My only goal - and still a very lofty one - is to always get up knowing a little something more.

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."
Winston Churchill

"Successful men keep moving."
Conrad Hilton

"For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again."
Proberbs 24:16



Current music:
The Classic Crime's new Seattle acoustic EP, except minus all the songs that aren't on their purevolume, because Circuit City and Wal-Mart and work hate me and don't have it in stock. :(
Still Fighting It and Fred Jones, part 2, by Ben Folds

Currently reading:
nothing. :( Every time I pick up a book I feel guilty because I should be doing homework.

My duty is to love and boys with long hair.

Title sounds like my duty is to love and my duty is to boys with long hair. Oops.
Topics: Boys with long hair, and 'my duty is to love'.

I am finding myself becoming more and more jaded and I cannot reason myself out of it. I don't enjoy it. I hate it. Help me!

A friend (nahidface) asked me my opinion on this issue: When is the time to abandon our responsibility to keeping peace in order to fight, and when is the time to sit back and watch injustices occur?


My reply was something like this:


First, my primary responsibility is and always will be to love.

Second, if I am going to fight for a reason that is not purely stemming from love, I will be fighting for truth. Truth, to me, is what is eternal, lasting, and top priority. Truth is what affects beyond any earthly influence.*

Third, any other fighting I do should be a direct result of love. If I fight injustice, it should be because I love God and His people, and thus do not want them to feel the effects of injustice. If I fight hunger, it should be because I love God and His people, and thus do not want them to be hungry. If I fight a tyrannic government or power, it should be because I love God and His people, and thus don't want them to be oppressed. Etc.
The minute I begin to fight out of hatred (I would like to say anger.) towards the people who are doing the injustice, or making people hungry, or oppressing a people, rather than fighting out of love for the suffering, is the minute, I think, that I go wrong. The minute I begin to fight out of selfishness -- to further my reputation, or appear altruistic, or get attention, or to make friends or find a good boyfriend or earn money or get a cool new t-shirt, or so many other reasons -- is the minute I go wrong. The minute I begin to fight out of pride -- believing I'm doing good for the world rather than God is doing good for the world through me (which can be interpreted in many, many different ways, I think) -- is the minute I go wrong. The minute I begin to fight just out of habit, even, is I think the minute I go wrong. And many other possible distractions. The minute I abandon love to fight is the minute I go wrong.
Because fighting is not, I don't think, good, unless necessary. It is disturbing the peace and joy.
I don't even think fighting just for the sake of justice or un-hunger (etc.) is good. We should fight because we love. Again, I believe the minute we abandon love to fight is the minute we go wrong. And so if fighting means un-loving (which isn't even hating!), in any way whatsoever, if it means un-loving Hitler or racists or Saddam Hussein or serial killers or rapists, then it should be avoided. If our desire to fight for anything ever conflicts with our duty to love, it should be set aside. Love should never be abandoned.


Would like to point out that this is only my idea of an ideal. I am utterly unsuccessful. And the idea's awfully recent, anyway.
Gandhi, I think, was the best this earth has seen (that has lasted in the history books, at least).


*Of course, I believe that most often fighting for truth is a direct result of love anyway. A love of truth? Is this a valid love (that is, a love worth fighting for)?
If it is, then that would make a love of justice a valid love. Is fighting for a love of justice different than fighting for justice?



Awfully unrelated, but: geez, I am getting frustrated with long-, straight-, shiny-, soft-haired boys. It's so unattractive and unmanly to me, and it seems so completely about appearance because, really, we all know long hair is inconvenient, especially if you're going to bother conditioning and treating it constantly so it feels and looks nice and especially if you're in a cool band and rock out on stage all the time. Why do heterosexual, talented guys enjoy looking like girls? There seems to be no reason other than to be stereotypically unstereotypical.
To each his own, I suppose.



Just finished The Great Divorce, by C.S.L. Will hopefully get time to talk about later.



Current music:
all of the songs on The Almost's purevolume.
Truth in Sincerity (album), by Amber Pacific
Still Fighting It, Ben Folds (Five? I don't think Rockin' The Suburbs was a solo album.)

ideas, emery, holding our own and open-mindedness, happiness

This song by Emery depresses me a lot.
But I really like his river metaphor.
How sad that the writer for a (not publicly professed, but) Christian band is in a place like that.
'publicly professed'. That's probably redundant.



It's interesting the manner in which ideas form when they are forced, and the quality of the work that results. ensues. follows.



The only good ideas are the ones that can stand up to the most potent or foolish of adversaries.
Relatedly: The best time to learn to be open-minded is in learning to hold our own.

Thinking to ourselves that we're right is very different from thinking out loud that we're right. There's always bound to be someone who disagrees, and they'd never pass up a chance to put someone in his/her place. And so when we publicize an idea and it is challenged, and we are then forced to consider this argument and respond to it, we learn to bring into mind views other than our own. Sometimes we end up discovering that we cannot counter an argument, and so we are wrong. But are we not better off for now having the right (until further challenged, at least) idea in our minds rather than ignorantly remaining in the wrong?
It takes a great deal of courage, I suppose.

There is an exception, of course: There are people (Bill O'Reilly, for example) who have the ability to appear right without ever having, for the most part, to defend an actual opinion. It involves a lot of manipulation and relies, I think, on attacking a person rather than a view. It also, it seems, requires a complete lack of loyalty to intellectual ethics, such as the one that says: I pursue the truth.


I've been thinking lately about my responsibility to happiness, rejoicing in the Lord and having joy. It occurred to me just now that I don't, in fact, have to blame my unhappiness on myself and that many people don't. I will continue doing so, though, because I believe that the responsibility really does lie on me. I'm glad I was raised this way.
Maybe more on this later.



Currently listening to:
Seattle, The Classic Crime
Be My Escape, Relient K
Daisy, Switchfoot

Currently reading:
A Severe Mercy, Sheldon Vanauken

pride, running from God

I'm gonna articulate something in this post that feels to me to be universal to Christians, but realistically there's only one other person I know who might go through the same process. Tell me if I'm wrong please.

Every non-surface Christian (I realize I haven't yet explained what I mean by this, but hopefully I'll get the chance to soon -- if it helps, I've heard C.S. Lewis call surface Christians semi-Christians), I suppose, has an individual way of striving for the perfection God asks of us. The way I've done it in the past and the way I'm trying not to do it now is a prideful one. It says, "God, You have a lot to do anyway. I'll go ahead and try on my own. I don't feel comfortable asking for Your help when You've given me so much already." We must let go of the attitude in which we do it ourselves or we don't do it at all. It breaks everyone's heart. We (and by we I mean the people who do this, me included) spend so much time running the race with our shoes tied together, weights on our back, saying, "Watch me, God! I can do it myself, I'll finish, You don't have to help me." And then we fall flat on our faces, tasting dirt, anguish, despairing in our failure, and it is God who picks us up again, it is Him that embraces us in His loving arms and gets us back on our feet and tells us it's okay that we can't do it on our own, that we weren't made that way. And we thank Him, we are so grateful. He nurses us back to health and as He does confidence in ourselves rekindles and plants its seed. "I feel so much better," we tell ourselves. "I'll never make that mistake that tripped me up again. " And then, once again, we take off and leave God behind. What a childish, naive pride. Such a desire to please God and such an inability to do it, such an inability to realize we can't do it without Him. And then, inevitably, our humanity hits us square in the face. We can't do it. It is impossible. We are fallen and sinful and it is only the grace of God that allows us to do any pure good. And yet, we still do not accept God's help. There is no falling out, because how can there be in the face of this truth? We are tragically stubborn. We say, "Well, God, I'll do the best I can. I'm sorry it's so horrible."

Profoundly relevant songs:
When I Go Down, Relient K
Find Me Tonight, Everyday Sunday

I don't have much of substance left, but I can leave you with some food for thought. Those of you who know me most likely have heard me talk of C.S. Lewis (and actually I've talked of him here), and that is because I think he is absolutely amazing. This is an excerpt from a letter by C.S.L. found in a book called A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken:
My feeling about people in whose conversion I have been allowed to play a part is always mixed with awe and even fear: such as a boy might feel on first being allowed to fire a rifle. The disproportion between his puny finger on the trigger and the thunder & lightning wh. follow is alarming. And the seriousness with which the other party takes my words always raises the doubt whether I have taken them seriously enough myself. By writing the things I write, you see, one especially qualifies for being hereafter 'condemned out of one's own mouth'. Think of me as a fellow-patient in the same hospital who, having been admitted a little earlier, cd. give some advice.
Earlier, Vanauken speaks of Lewis (who was a close friend and mentor to him), saying:
...and I therefore saw and heard, both at table and at the semicircle by the fire in the common room as the port went round, the Lewis who, in brilliance, in wit, and in incisiveness, could hold his own with any man that ever lived.

C.S. Lewis played (and, myself as proof, plays) such a great (and personal) role in so many people's lives, but his very influence would have been rendered entirely useless and even very detrimental if he hadn't been able to (and, realistically, God hadn't given him the ability to) discover humility and realize his actually nonexistent role compared to that of God.


Current music:
Globes and Maps, Something Corporate
When I Go Down, Relient K
Find Me Tonight, Everyday Sunday
Take Me Out, Everyday Sunday
Apathy for Apologies, Everyday Sunday

Currently reading:
A Severe Mercy, Sheldon Vanauken

light vs. darkness, light and rain, language of love, Jesus' death and life

I just finished a book, on recommendation of companionableills, called Story, by Steven James. It was very good. Highly recommend it. There were a few things I would depict differently, I think.

Anyway, tidbits:


James talks about light and darkness in this story a lot. They don't seem such opposites to me (fighting forces, though, yes), because darkness is the absence of light. Darkness cannot exist without light, it is not without light. It is not.
And light and darkness (as good and evil) work their wonders in such different ways.

At one point James says, "...i need some of your light to glow in my life/and burn away the darkness...i still have an echo of your image within me,/battling with this creeping stain upon my soul..."
I wrote notes:
"wash away
Rain. Leaves its own stain?
Washes in light.
Light can be heavy."
For a while I've been struggling with expressing the reason I enjoy rain so much and, specifically, Arizona rain and not necessarily any other rain. (I am determined to hate Arizona, so maybe this is why I have so much trouble.)
I have come up with this: Rain is substance.
I think I know what I mean now. I think that light can be heavy in the same way that rain can be heavy. It may wash away impurities, stains, but it also leaves a stain of its own. It penetrates and illuminates and leaves things raw and real. I am definitely blending light and rain now.
I'm sure I'm being completely incoherent.


I think that our fallen nature is not our desire to do evil, for that does not exist in that pure sense. It is our loss of touch with God and our weakness to Satan. It is our tongues and ears wrapping themselves around, becoming fluent in, the language of dark and sin rather than of light, of love.


There is so little focus on God becoming Man and I believe that this is a mistake. There is an implication, I think, that God's sole sacrifice/gift for us was His death for us but His life for us is immensely important. Because of Jesus' death, our sins can be forgiven and we can break through death, but only because of His life can we bring Him into ourselves. God became Man when we had fallen so far from the image He created us in, allowing us to don the Jesus persona. He gave us a model to mold our lives after but also made it possible. God wants us to be like Him. And so He became Man and somehow reconciled His perfect nature with our worldly, sin-stained one, making it possible for us to do the same. He found a means for cleansing our bodies so something as perfect as Christ can exist within them.
This is so difficult to explain.


These posts always form themselves at absurd hours. Not nearly as intelligible in the morning.



Current music:
Fallen Man, Relient K
Hallelujah, Rufus Wainwright

intelligence

Rain on my hopes.
Rain on my soul.
Rain on everything I know.
It's so ludicrous,
the pursuit of this dream.
We thought we beat it long ago.
From The Classic Crime.

When asked how much money a man needs, Andrew Carnegie replied, "Oh, just a little more."
He also said, though, "The one who dies rich, dies disgraced."

It's very interesting being surrounded by so many extremely intelligent people and not being surrounded by constant ambition to earn loads. I mean, honestly, I can't even think of anyone in my classes who is in IB or earning the grades they are or working so hard because they want to earn a bunch of money.
Which, by the way, is significant because I'm surrounded by a group of the most motivated high schoolers in the district. State. Nation.


Speaking of intelligence: I am finding lately that there are many, many different forms of intelligence. In fact, I'm beginning to think, because I have so much trouble even labeling sorts of intelligence, that each person has not a unique amount of intelligence, necessarily, but a very unique and different intelligence entirely.
Maybe a unique combination of many sorts of intelligence? I don't know.

The best way to explain this is to tell my story, which is awfully personal and not something I really enjoy letting the world see because I am ashamed of it. I think I'll do it anyway though:
I have been accustomed to receiving good grades and being at the top of my class all my life, and so it knocked me off my feet getting to high school and the IB program and finding so many very, very intelligent people. I, however, being the prideful person I am, didn't hesitate to come up with excuses for myself when I was not number one. (My mom says I need to gain the 'courage to be mediocre'.) Eventually, though, I began to chastise and struggled to stop this rationalizing part of myself, so that I could come to terms with the fact that I am not, in fact, smarter than everyone.
It was really a slap in the face, however, when I started getting to know all the people in this program and discovered that even many of the people who aren't ranked above me GPA-wise or PSAT score-wise are much smarter than I am in many ways.
I am beginning to bask in this realization. I love the people that surround me. Some times not as much as others, but for the most part I am really appreciating what a privilege it is to be in the company of so many geniuses.

Maybe the most prevalent form of intelligence is just a natural ability to be good at things.
There's also an ability to appreciate and work through literature. I am lacking in this intelligence.
This is different, I think, from linguistic intelligence. Some people are very good at putting words together and making them sound nice, or working through vocabulary.
Maybe this goes hand in hand with an affinity for foreign language?
There's mathematical/methodical intelligence. Which is useful, generally, in sciences like chemistry and physics.
Not the same, necessarily, as the intelligence that goes along with a curiosity about the world around us, that requires a certain creativity when it comes to an ability for scientific advance.
And then there's the common sense, on-your-feet sort of intelligence. I have a friend with this sort of intelligence who's very good at football.
And humor, playing a crowd is a different sort of intelligence entirely. Maybe even more than one, because of all the different types of humor.
Social intelligence? An ability to manipulate and persuade and understand people.
I know someone who can solve a Rubik's cube behind his back.
And then someone whose ability to recall historical fact and information (and also interpret it) just appalls me.
Intellect, too. There are people who are very interested in truth, in philosophy and being inquisitive and everything that goes along with that. But really, there are different forms of this intelligence, too. Emotional intellects, logical/methodical/rational/mathematical intellects.

I think it is possible and not really ridiculous to make any non-physical talent or skill out to be intelligence, no?

I love looking at all the people closest to me and all the people I spend the most time with and seeing all these different forms of intelligence (and more) shine, every individual blend displayed.
I don't like labeling all these intelligences and stereotyping all these people because each one is so different, but I think it helps me fully appreciate everyone.

We are certainly a motley crew.


Currently reading:
Story, by Steven James

Current music:
So Yesterday, Amber Pacific

pride, music, love is real, tied to the flesh

Pride is an enormous subject with me. I'm gonna start with a definition. Ambgtr (maybe I should start using nicknames like companionableills -- I know I'd have fun with that) can attest for the semantics problems we've had because we didn't bother to give our personal definitions.

When I speak of pride (most often, at least, and when I'm speaking of it here), I'm referring to pride the sin. Pride the sin is believing that you are good without God. It's trying to be God without Him. It's attributing your talents or skills or hard work or whatever it may be to yourself, rather than to Him who gave them to you.
(It's horribly ludicrous, in other words.)

The Devil is the epitome of pride. He works with pride, through pride; he is pride. Pride is something I have really struggled with, and, to me, it is the root of all sin. A man is greedy because he wants more things, and he wants more things very often because he wants more than his neighbor, and he wants more than his neighbor because he believes himself to be the best. It gets more complex than that, but that is only one example.
In short, if we didn't believe ourselves above having God in complete control, then He would be in control. If He was in control, we wouldn't sin any longer.

So, um, that was an introduction to pride? I originally was going to say a lot about it but it's 12:22am three days later and I haven't finished my homework and this post is long enough anyway. Next post, probably.



This is a blog from the Andrew McMahon of Jack's Mannequin and Something Corporate, and it's what I want from my music. I am very, very picky. This might sound very cliche and not at all unique, but I look for music that is real and sometimes I have trouble finding it.
Music is a bit of heaven, and a powerful emotional device, and a means of motivation, and a method of catharsis, and whatever you want to take from it, really. It can be damaging. I am very careful with my music.



Sometimes I feel things in my chest and know that they're not necessarily lasting. It's not until I feel them in my gut that I know they're there for good. Those are the things that tug at my heartstrings. That's what is my core.

I was talking to someone I really look up to the other night and he expressed a feeling he had, before conversion, of emptiness. He felt it inside of him, physically. He'd spend time around strong Christians and sensed a core, stability that he was missing.
God is my rock.

All of this is such great evidence to me that we are truly tied to the flesh. I am not a materialist or empiricist and really, philosophically, often lean more towards idealism (I suppose technically I'm a dualist maybe?), but my faith tells me that our reality is, in fact, inherently real. I cannot prove this -- my TOK (theory of knowledge - a required class for the IB program) classmates, or at least the ones that discuss things with me, know what I mean. It is a matter of faith and so I take it to be true. God tells me that He made all things and they are good. I take that to mean that my body and the things around me and the world I live in are useful tools in knowing God, becoming closer to Him, loving Him and loving His people, and I believe that the things God put on this earth can be and are used by Him to reach us. Music, food, water. The question is, to what extent? I'm not actually going to get into this yet, though.



I'm sure we've all heard DesCartes's "Cogito ergo sum. [I think, therefore I am.]". (What a coincidence because after writing this I read this week's TOK chapter and it talked about this.) Love proves my existence to me the same way Descartes doubting proved his (he may doubt that everything is real, but there has to be a doubter and so, he exists). I love people, and so something is being loved. I can't technically prove the existence of that something, but someone is certainly acting upon that something, no matter how little basis for doing it that someone has. I guess this is part of what I was trying to say at the beginning of this post.

On a kind of irrelated (I'm gonna get way ahead of you all and point out to myself that this isn't a word) note, love (and, really, emotion in general, but I like talking about love) is much more real, philosophically, to me than anything else. In TOK we talk about the ways of knowing (emotion, language, perception, thought) and really, the only one I really trust is emotion. I won't go into why the others are generally very unreliable (maybe another time) but emotion is something, really, that is pretty reliably outside of ourselves. I'm getting myself kind of tied up here because all my ideas for the effects of emotion rely pretty much on perception or language, but for the most part emotion is not really part of us. Though we might have control over emotions, the very fact that we might want or have to have control over them indicates that they are separate ('outside', I think, is not the right word) or not of ourselves. Emotions uniquely make us act certain ways -- it's not like when I see a tree and so decide to walk around it (and so the tree made me do something), where I could very easily not walk around that tree. I made a conscious decision to walk around the tree. I didn't really have to, but I, myself, decided to and made me do it. Maybe, though, I was feeling particularly masochistic that day and so instead of walking around the tree I ran into it quite painfully, probably. If I didn't have those bad feelings of myself, that emotion, I'm sure I would have avoided that tree. Or maybe I was feeling bad about myself but I thought about it and realized that walking into a tree was an awfully ridiculous thing to do, so I went around it. My point is, I still thought about it. If I didn't have that emotion, I wouldn't have given it a second thought at all. I would have walked around the tree because that's generally what common sense would have me do. But when I have this emotion, it requires some thought or control to walk around the tree when I otherwise would do it automatically.

All I'm really trying to say here is that emotion is pretty reliably (not provably [haha! didn't think that was a word], I know) not of ourselves. (But this is a ridiculously knotted argument because it may in fact rely entirely on perception [that is, sense-data, for those of you who read the TOK book]. How sad.)

This is not to say that emotion is always correct (not the word I want, really) though. Example: Once, I had a dream that somebody I knew did something really, really stupid and irritating. I woke up mad at him, and couldn't shake that anger for about a day and a half. I even talked to him about it. Completely unbased (what is that red squiggly line doing there?!) emotion.


Maybe, though, I'm mistakenly considering 'perception' as a way of knowing (which, to me, mostly includes language) and our 'sense-data' (we have sensations of color, texture, heaviness -- the color, texture, weight itself is a sense-datum) to be the same thing.
Well shooot. That switches things around a lot, I guess.


So I went maybe a little wikipedia/link crazy on this one. Maybe not. I also have discovered that my vocabulary sucks. In the normal sense but also in the I've-got-to-stop-making-up-words sense.
This is one of my more rambly (another red squiggly line :[ ), stream-of-consciousness posts and I'm going to apologize to and virtually pat on the back anyone who did me the favor of reading through it. Maybe not as high a substance-to-word ratio as desirable, but I'd still like to hear what you have to say.

Currently reading:
Catch-22, Joseph Heller

Current music:
Between the Trees
Notre-Dame soundtrack
First Time, by Lifehouse
Twenty-Four, Switchfoot
Globes and Maps, Something Corporate

love, observable data and the origin of life, belief

I think a lot can be told about a person in the way he or she loves. I don't believe this tells whether this person is good or bad. I don't even believe the amount of love in a person's life tells that, because I'm talking about love(a): giving a piece of your heart to someone, being attached to someone; not love(b): you are my neighbor and I am nice to you, I put you before myself because I'm not a selfish person. Love(b) takes integrity and effort. It is not more shallow than love(a) but in many ways it is less complex and encompassing and dynamic. Love(a) comes, for the most part, naturally and it takes effort to fight it and we truly express this love in very different ways. (Gary Chapman, actually, has consolidated these into what he calls the five love languages.) Anyway, I guess what I really want to say here is that if we've seemed to lose ourselves our best way to get back on track with our identity is by looking at our caring for those close to us. I only say this because I have experienced it, and maybe I have no idea whether it's true with anyone but me. But when I seem to blend in with those around me, or, rather, when everyone in the crowd seems to have a stronger personality than I do (or whatever it is), if I look to how I care about people, to those I really love, that love is strong and true and tangible in my actions and feelings. And so I know that I'm real.
I think that I originally had more to say about this. Oh well.



Anyway, another heated discussion in biology yesterday. I'm gonna illustrate here the point I don't think I communicated very well in class:
We are studying possibilities for the origin of life and I have a problem with it because they are taught as theories and so, in other words, they are presented as consented fact.

Science is based entirely on observation. We look at the world around us, observe the way things interact with each other, watch nature, detect patterns, and draw conclusions that -- emphasized strongly by the teacher ("Proof is the bad p-word! No such thing! We don't ever say 'fact'!") -- are justifiable but not set in stone. (Justified vs. unjustifiable is a topic among my friends in TOK, actually. Maybe I'll bring it up later.) There are entire systems set up (the scientific method, for example) that ensure that scientists are drawing valid conclusions and not being hasty. Complex processes are required in the scientific community, always encouraging the researcher and observer to think creatively but always completely objectively. And nothing is (that is, should be) accepted by the scientific community unless it has successfully passed through this security system.

Every single scientific believer/researcher/student/whatever that puts faith in one of the 'theories' for origin of life is brushing the "We only draw valid conclusions!" doctrine off of his shoulder with a scoff. The observable data that is the entire foundation for every single valid scientific conclusion drawn (every theory) is made up in the origin of life theories. The problem with figuring out what was going on at the creation of life is that at the time, life hadn't been. So, um, we weren't there to observe it. Nobody knows, or has any way of knowing, the composition or state of earth a kajibillion years ago, and science isn't even close to being agreed on any possibilities concerning that topic.

Every theory I've heard for the origin of life is a great, plausible possibility for how life began. It is not a valid conclusion. The only conclusion that can be drawn is, "If the circumstances on earth were exactly like the ones I made up for my experiment, life probably would have begun this way." If somebody could show me that a meteor containing organic matter landed on earth under the right conditions a kajibillion years ago, then I would say, "Yeah, you know, panspermia is almost certainly the way to go with how life began." If someone could confirm that Miller and Urey were right on in the atmospheric conditions they created with their experiment I'd be of the opinion that Oparin was way cool. If someone was able to prove to me (or even just give some evidence!) that there was a lack of atmosphere on earth and the sun's rays weren't as intense a kajibillion (which is, in fact, a mathematical term [incidentally I'm lying]) years ago, then I would have no trouble agreeing that the top 300meters of the ocean probably froze over and that whatever origin of life idea that depends on this condition I can't remember is probably correct.




It is very frustrating for me when people assume that I am stupid or ignorant because I am a Christian. I will bet those people a thousand dollars of which I am only sort of in possession that I have thought about it a significantly greater amount more than they have. I'm an intellectually- and logically-based, critical, inquisitive person. I have a lot of trouble believing something if it hasn't been logically and rationally worked out for me. I ask the same questions you do, and then I find answers to them.
I am so sure this topic will come up again, but for now I will leave you with some lyrics and a recommendation to read some C.S. Lewis. Mere Christianity, specifically.

The Truth, by Relient K
And I've collected all these thoughts
and I'm dying just to lose them
and if your words are true or not
I'll die trying to prove them

But I'll just have to accept
That my mind is so inept
When the only thing that's left
For me to do is to trust you

Convince me
Because I really need your help
Oh convince me
Because I can't see this for myself

I'll put the emphasis on the evidence
Begging for the proof (whoa)
Sometimes the hardest thing to believe
Is the truth

This is so unnerving
I know you've never lied to me before
But the things you're telling me
I can't yet believe yet can't ignore

But I'll just have to accept
That my mind is so inept
And the only thing that's left
For me to do is to trust you

I'll put the emphasis on the evidence
Begging for the proof
Sometimes the hardest thing to believe
Is the truth

You said to place our lives into your hands
Confide in what you'll do
Sometimes the hardest thing to believe
Is the truth

It's a world full of cynics
Who say to stay alive in it
You gotta stick with what you know
But the soul is always aching
For the heart to start taking
A chance by letting go
So let go
Let go
Sometimes the hardest thing to believe
Is the truth

You said to place our lives into your hands
Confide in what you'll do
Sometimes when you're trying to sleep
And all your doubts and your faith don't agree
It's because
Sometimes the hardest thing to believe is the Truth


Current music:
Daisy, Switchfoot
Darlin', Between the Trees
The Truth, Relient K
Rules and Regulations, Rufus Wainwright

Currently reading:
Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller

I want to love (people, God) in my songs, prayers, statements, appearances, words, thoughts, hopes, dreams, passion, outreach, very actions, and do not much more if I can help it.
I think that there are a lot of superfluous intentions floating around in our lives. I want to do things only in love. I want to wear clothes not to make an impression, say things not to further my reputation, get involved in something not to increase my pride in myself.

It seems very easy to jump on one bandwagon in order to avoid another. I'm sure we've heard this a million times before, but I think it's very important to be sure not to jump on any bandwagons at all, not even the young Christian one. A Mainstay lyric comes to mind:
So take me home but keep me feeling lonely
when everyone is around
You're trying to show me how to hear Your song
down here by the water.
Far away from the lights I see that I can't live two lives.

I don't want to downplay the importance of fellowship in any way. This, I think, is an extremely thin line and so I have a lot of trouble expressing myself. But I don't think that Christianity is, or should be, a movement in the sense that movements pass and are often about support and popularity. They feed on emotions within us that are often temporary rather than feeding on the passion of God within us. People in the movement are held together by each other (rather than by God) and often depend on the movement itself for their interest in the ideal or program or goal.
The song ends with:
Night time lends its ear to the sound of my disappointment.
When the ideal fades I don't want to complain
I just want to hear You sing.

Also, when we are caught up in movements, it seems we are often consumed by them rather than by God. We are distracted by promoting the movement (along with ourselves, more often than not) and even forget about what the movement is promoting. And this can be okay in some cases, I think, but only if our intentions are kept pure and our eyes focused on God, rather than focused on finances or flashy new t-shirts or our new popularity.


Current music:
soundtrack for Notre-Dame de Paris
A Time for Yohe, Between the Trees
The Minstrel's Prayer, Cartel

Currently reading:
Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller

TWLOHA, evolution, big bang theory

First of all, please check this out: to write love on her arms.
Also, the movement's myspace page.
And, lastly, this music video by Between the Trees.

I just found this and it's made an impact on me. Read the story. Watch the video. Hop on?



Evolution discussion in my biology class today. The theory of evolution as the origin of the species really kind of baffles. There are so many holes in the 'theory' (more on this later) that no one has been able to plausibly fill for me, and it's really discouraging and a little bit insulting to me to think that the sophisticated scientific community would really hold on to this idea. So I'm assuming that there are explanations of which I'm not yet aware. Please let me know. Argue with me. Really.

So let's go through evolution as an explanation for the beginning of life really quick. Okay, so the idea is that there was a piece of organic matter that became an organism that became an organism that became an organism that...etc. to make what we are today, right? Except that original first and second and third and fourth, etc. generation species organism is still here for some reason, even though, according to natural selection, the whole point is that they died off because they were inept (convenient because then we can create this chain of evolution just by looking at what's here). Anyway, if we're all on the same page and there's no dispute so far, I'm going to use the jump from primates (apes) to humans as an example. The idea is that these primates were around but some of them were different than the others (smarter, upstanding, less hairy), and these different ones eventually evolved into humans, yeah? Tell me if I'm wrong. My problem is that being ape and not human didn't become a problem (that is, disadvantageous -- and so by natural selection they would evolve) until there were humans, who came and started taking other species out. So what was the reason for apes becoming humans? And if they did, why are the apes still around? This wouldn't happen on its own, purely for the survival of the species. It wouldn't have been advantageous. Agreed? Which is the only motivation, so to speak, of a species to do or change anything, correct? So there must be some other force coming into play here that is putting its motivations into action. And because this force has, apparently, a unique ability to make things happen, have control, is it not correct to know it is a higher power?
So who, now, is going to tell me that evolution disproves God? Who is going to tell me that they believe in evolution because they don't believe in God? Evolution has always been introduced to me as an alternative to Creationism - the origin of the species story for non-believers. It doesn't seem, to me, that it is a very good one.

And if the primates to human example doesn't work for you, we can talk about wings. Wings are a very complicated piece of anatomy, agreed? There are tissues and organs and it's an entire limb, for crying out loud. So do you think that wings were one sole mutation that occurred and turned a species into flying creatures? I wouldn't say so. I'd say that it would have to happen in a series of mutations, a series of genetic variances that would be adapted and incorporated into the genetic makeup of the species rather than one HUGE ODD MUTATION that was suddenly very advantageous (this bird must have lived forever to be able to reproduce enough to keep these new wing things going in the whole scheme of the population). Right? So if this is happening gradually, what kind of variance that will eventually become wings would be at all advantageous enough to survive in the species? Don't you think that little stubs where wings will, at one point, be would be really awkward and annoying for these future-aves? Don't you think the poor mutant birds would be made fun of at school by the normal, stubless ones? Wouldn't that lower their self-esteem, making them less likely to find mates, and therefore less likely to reproduce, therefore not passing on these would-be wings?
But, needless to say, birds have wings. It happened. Why is that? What kind of force is intervening here and telling would-be birds that, "Hey, I know these stubs here are really annoying right now, but just think! Eventually you'll FLY! Just think of the (great, great, great, great, great...) children!" Because somebody's gotta be saying that if this is how birds happened to become birds. The birds didn't decide to become birds. Who wants stubs? They were content as a land-limited species. They didn't have the power of thinking ahead for their own good like that (WHAT IS THIS TERM?), and even if they did, what's the point in becoming that complex? They were happy enough, yeah?

Another thing: is there anyone here that wants to point out a huge, gaping flaw in the theory of protein transport across cell membranes? or cohesion? Or hydrogen bonds? Or the idea that blood circulates and carries oxygen? None of these are laws (so they are theories), but they're all pretty much considered fact. We've reached a consensus. But I think the reason we've reached such an agreed consensus (redundant) is that no one's really been able to point out some huge fallacy in the theory. They're pretty darn airtight. Why, then, do so many people want to take evolution as truth? Why is there the same blind faith in evolution as I have in Creationism? I have faith in creationism because I'm religious and I believe in God -- not because there's a huge amount of scientific evidence for it. Evolution (I'd like to remind everyone that I mean evolution as a theory for the origin of life), to me so far, cannot be accepted beyond a reasonable doubt at all. There are too many holes to trust it. And so I don't understand why so many people want to trust this theory the same way that they trust that the reason it hurts when my finger gets sliced open is that I have nerve endings.
Stemming from that, if you're going to say, "Well, we just don't know. Science isn't exact. We don't have answers for everything.", then I'm gonna have to say, "Then please don't start off telling me you do. Evolution is not a viable theory. I'm glad we've both reached that conclusion." I'm not going to try to prove Creationism to you. I don't consider it a valid scientific theory. If you want to argue with me, I really won't be able to convince you. It's not relevant to me, as a Christian. I believe it because I'm a Christian. I don't need it to convince me to be a Christian -- there are so many more valid and important things that have done that for me. (And I'd love to talk to you about those.) So my intention here is not to convince everyone that, as far as origin of life goes, creationism is right and evolution is wrong. I'm just trying to understand why evolution is so easily accepted and how it earns its standing as a theory.

So I realize that I'm posting this at great risk of being torn apart (since my whole rambling argument there is pretty easily responded to, though it at least has a basis that I can't, myself, find an explanation for), but I guess that's what I'm asking for, right?



One more thing:
Big Bang Theory: There was nothing, and then BANG, there was something.
Creationism: There was nothing, and then BANG, there was something. God made it happen.
We might not disagree so greatly, after all.



Current music:
the soundtrack for Notre-Dame de Paris
Albatross, The Classic Crime
Words, Between the Trees

Currently reading:
Catch-22, Joseph Heller
The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini

Soldiers.

I don't know what kind of comments I'm going to get for this, but please watch this video.

Right now, someone I knew in middle school is missing her boyfriend in Iraq. We're praying for a church member overseas. One of my co-coaches won't see the love of her life until Christmas. He's been gone since early July.
It's very, very odd to me how close this is hitting to home. I don't know what I would do in that situation. How easy it would be to be selfish, to make my boyfriend or husband or brother stay home, to keep the people I love the most safe. How easy it would be for them not to step up to this plate. But they have, and they're doing it. My own peers are experiencing this sacrifice, this pain. And they're doing it because they're thinking outside themselves.

I've made it a habit of staying away from the war in Iraq and my feelings toward it. I'm torn and feel the conflict of bringing it up is unnecessary. But no matter the issues, these people are defending ideals that they, apparently, hold more dear than their own lives. They're defending a country they believe in. And I think the least we could do is believe in them.

Anger is a worthless emotion.

I don't understand anger, as an emotion. I understand being upset; I understand being sad or hurt by someone's actions. But what is anger? Why would something make me angry? Is anger surprise at the depravity of another's action? It is more than disgust; it is personal offense. It is more than, "How could (s)he do this to me?" That is sadness. It seems to me that anger is pride. Anger is "Since when is life not fair? Where is the karma? I'm too good for something like this to happen to me." Anger is "I would never do something like that." (Oh, but you would! Though this is a different topic entirely.) What right do I have to be angry, when I am just as guilty as the next sinner? I am, however, sad.

Anger is so fleeting and it comes so easily, without thought or logic. We flare up immediately following an event that makes us unhappy. We get so much power, fuel from anger. We use it to justify so many things, to get attention, boost reputation, gain power, kill. Anger is rash. Anger is to become something that is not me -- or, at least, something I don't have control over.

Suddenly I understand anger (wrath) as one of the seven deadly sins.

And I think it is a mistake to believe we need anger. (To fuel, provoke, cause, manipulate, motivate action or whatever.) Banishing anger is not the same as banishing passion -- to not get angry over something is not to say I can't feel strongly about it.

Current music:
Daisy, by Switchfoot
The Blues, by Switchfoot
Shadow Proves the Sunshine, by Switchfoot
Who I Am Hates Who I've Been, by Relient K
I So Hate Consequences, by Relient K
Poison Ivy, by Matthew Thiessen and the Earthquakes

Currently reading:
The Bourne Identity, by Robert Ludlum
Catch-22, by Joseph Heller

God is intelligible.

Someone once told me that God and Creation were, by nature, intelligible, and I fought them tooth and nail. How boastful, to think that something as great as God and His Creation might be comprehended by fallen, sinful humans like ourselves! But now I believe that God can, in fact, be understood. I don't believe that He is understood (that I do or that anyone does, completely). I think that it is prideful to think that we are that close to Him, or that in control of the Creation that, already, has been proved (through our own research) to be increasingly complex. But I must believe that He wants to be understood (because in understanding Him we are closer to Him). He wants to be understood, and so He makes it possible. (This topic was brushed previously.) That's not to say it's easy. It takes effort and intent and perseverance. But God grants enlightenment. He reveals Himself to those who seek Him.

Deuteronomy 4:19: But if from thence thou shalt seek the Lord thy God, thou shalt find him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all they soul. (KJV)

Music for today:
Going to a Town, by Rufus Wainwright
Tonight, by FM Static
Beautiful Disaster, by Jon McLaughlin
Trust Me, by The Fray
Heretics, by Andrew Bird

Kick-off: simplicity and complicity, election, writing

So this is the beginning of a blog. We'll see how long it lasts. It's at least going to start with a bang because, today, I have a lot to say.
Keep in mind that not all of this is going to apply to you. I'm a Christian and so a great portion of the things I'm going to want to talk (write) about here relate to that. Feel free to read it and comment on it, but don't be offended or surprised.

I just read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (and would definitely recommend it) and have started thinking about the way our two cultures (that is, the one of the Congo and America's) clash. It's a war of complicity vs. simplicity and, at first, the simplicity seemed inherently better to me. It seems that 'progress' only means growing further and further away from simplicity. I was claiming baggage at the airport today and realized, astonished, that there was nothing stopping me from taking someone else's stuff, or from someone else taking mine. How had this been overlooked? Where is the system of correct-baggage-reaching-correct-owner? A loose end. A loophole. A gamble. In this world (the 'civilized' one), we don't trust anyone. We create increasingly complex systems to safeguard some ideal or principle or process and never leave anything to unravel on its own. Somebody has always already thought of it, and if they haven't, then you better hurry up and tell someone so something can be done because sitting on it could mean the wrong sort of person will think of it next! In the world of the Congo, and others (as depicted by The Poisonwood Bible and also, by Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart), there are loose systems kept to voice opinions and to initiate action, but as for keeping everyone in line or being sure law-breakers can't break the laws in the first place or ensuring the underdog can be heard, there is nothing. It is trusted that the people -- according to what? love? ethics? tradition? -- will account for everyone, and will do things fairly and in the mind of the public because that is what's to be done. If someone is doing something badly, that someone is thrown out. (And we thought to teach them democracy.) It really is that simple. There is no such thing as majority rules. If majority rules, then the minority is unhappy. So they debate until they agree. These people don't want to bother with national elections or parties or capitalism. Why should they? Why meddle in such a corrupt system when the one closer to home can be kept pure? Because that is truly what it is: a system without corruption.

I am increasingly led to the belief that the best person to have power is the person who doesn't ask for it. (Doesn't want it? Doesn't look for it?) I don't see that virtue in any of the election candidates, or people currently in power. And so my conclusion: they are all bad. None of them is doing or will do a particularly good job in office. I can't trust any of their intentions, ever. And so I'll pick the one that will defend my ideals, whatever his (her) reasons for doing that.

Writing sometimes seems to take a life of its own. So treasured at conception, leaving the author's hand feverishly, from an often unsettled mind to seep into a page. But when it reaches the readers' eyes, it is as if it has changed the writer him(her)self: it comes across so matter-of-factly, so innocently, so benignly and as if it doesn't have its own purpose or took no effort. But then the reader soaks it in and it is intent once again -- wreaking its havoc or conquering its domain or providing enlightenment (mostly, I like to believe, the latter). Sometimes subtly but always surely.
Or maybe not. Maybe it is only an aide.

In a nutshell: I'm finding that the most monumental realizations, and the most difficult to come by, are uncluttered and simple. Ignorance may be bliss, but enlightenment is glorious.
Out of a nutshell: It is easy to think that God is complex. In His own way, He is, and quite so. What I mean to say is that the truths of God, and understanding them and Him, are in and of themselves not complex. (God Himself is above our semantically-bound ideas of simple and complicated, I like to think.) It might take a lot of thinking -- and very difficult and advanced thinking, at that -- to reach our understandings of God, well beyond what any Sunday school teacher asks of us, but once we reach these understandings, they are quite simple, quite apparent and uncluttered. They are remarkable, impactive realizations. They are life-changing, really. But once we've cleared away all of the clutter of human thinking -- sinful distractions, cultural biases, personal limits, implications, et cetera -- the knowledge itself comes easily and stays with us, unless we allow everything else to bury it again.

In a nutshell: There's more to being a Christian than following all the rules. God asks 100% from us, intellectually.
Out of the nutshell: Maybe another time.

We can be equally trapped in complicity or simplicity. Which is good? Which do we choose? Are we happier where we are born?

God's truths, when found, are quite simple. Do I think this means that simple is good and complicated is evil? No. Simple and complicated are polar in the same way that wet and dry are: wet is certainly sinful when it is a murdered drowning victim's last sensation, but quite the very opposite when it is a sweet lover's kiss, a manioc field in drought, a prisoner-of-war's first taste of freedom. I think that these truths are simple frankly because God wants us to understand Him. He truly reaches 99.9% of the way; all He asks is that we put everything into that last little stretch.

Music of today:
Find Me Tonight, by Everyday Sunday
When I Go Down, by Relient K
Deathbed, by Relient K
Hallelujah, by Rufus Wainwright
Swing Life Away, by Rise Against
Fred Jones, Part 2, by Ben Folds Five

Currently reading:
Catch-22, Joseph Heller