Saturday, September 20, 2014

The Illusional Romance of “We Were Destined to Be”

It seems our society strives to make us think that which is most romantic is when destiny crashes two people together, they were fated to be together, they didn't really have a choice, they were “meant to be.” I understand the perceived romance of such a forceful love, I even understand not being able to help but “love” someone ...but isn't there something even more romantic about “I choose you, out of all others, I choose to love you” instead of, “I can't help but love you. The universe aligned in such a way that it just had to be,” or, “You're so attractive I just couldn't help myself.” The first is a matter of the head and the heart, working together to continue to reinforce love, of getting to know your lover's brain as well as body, of getting to know more than just their smell, taste, and touch.

Society tells us love should be effortless, you shouldn't have to work at it, that it will “just happen” and keep happening. But in all other areas of our life don't we learn and experience that often the best and most enduring things come through hard work? Don't we most value those things which were gained by hard work or treasure certain things because they were given to us as a gift made possible by someone else working hard? Why should one of the most important things in our lives be effortless? Why should one of our most important relationships not take work? Again, isn't it more romantic for someone to “work” at loving you, to nurture and care for your relationship, to better themselves for your sake, to make themselves more lovable, not because you ask them to but because they love you enough to try? Isn't this more romantic than, “I love you because it's easy”?

I believe I would someday rather hear, “I choose you, I know I will not die without you, but I know you will enrich my life. Yes, I am in love with you but I can help myself. I choose to not only love you now, when it is easy, but to also work at loving you, even when it's tough.” I know passion is important and I want to be in love, but do you really want to be with someone because their body demands it? Because they “can't help themselves”? If that is really the case, then what happens when someone else comes along with which their body chemistry is even more finely attuned? Will they be able to help themselves then? What happens when the planets seemingly perfectly align and they know fate wishes them to be with this other person?

Just some thoughts for all to ponder


P.S. I am really a hopeless romantic. I love romantic comedies and an occasional love story. I was in love with one of my best friends for years, a part of this was for her own sake but I also can't help wondering if a part of it was because it would have been so “perfect” for us to fall in love, it would have been so romantic for us to have gotten married. A part of me romanticizes about meeting someone and “just knowing they're the one” but I also know I will be able to choose whether or not to have a deeper love with someone or simply an attraction borne of seemingly perfect circumstances, an adorable smile, shining eyes, and pheromones that call to me in the breeze.  

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Continued Uniqueness While Forever Becoming More and More Like the Father

I think in Heaven we will continue our journey to become more like the Father, we will have an eternity to work on it, so maybe “someday” we'll get pretty close. So, does this mean eventually there will be a bunch of identical creatures occupying Heaven? If so, then what was the point of our experience while on earth, of giving us each unique DNA, of creating us with different strengths and different weaknesses, of allowing us to experience different joys and different sorrows? If he wanted sameness, I think he would have bypassed earth and just created us ready-made, purely spiritual beings.

Rather than becoming more and more the same, I think that though some aspects of us will do that, we will actually become more different and unique. Because though we may all be becoming more and more like our Father, our Father is so complex, so “huge” a being that we will never become “large” enough to encompass this vastness. Our experiences, our DNA, our uniqueness puts us more in tune with some particular aspect of God which we better understand than any other being and through eternity we will better come to personify that aspect, and in so doing become more unique and different than the beings around us who are better learning to personify some other aspect of God.

A part of why I think this way is the image of us, as a whole, as the Body of Christ. Each of us are a part. I am the left earlobe, you are the right eyelid. Given eternity I will never be the whole body, you will always be a part of me as I am a part of you. We will grow, we will change, I into a better earlobe and you into a better eyelid. Together, all together, we will come to look more like Christ and our Father. We will continue to learn to function as one, to share what we experience of heaven and God but I think we will forever remain different parts.



Thursday, September 4, 2014

God's Justified Egocentrism and How it is a Manifestation of His Love

Think back on your life, to when you were small. When you weren't being selfish, you wanted to share with those you cared about. If you were eating something good, you wanted to share it with your mom. If you were watching your favorite cartoon, you wanted your dad to watch it too. You wanted to share that flower you found, that rock, that bugger out of your nose. Because sharing something you thought was wonderful is what you did with those you loved. As you got older this trend continued. You shared your favorite music with your friends, your favorite shows, your special spot, your favorite game. When you had a significant other, if you experienced something wonderful, discovered something beautiful, you likely wanted to share it with that person. You wanted to share the beauty of the sunset, the wonder of the stars, the vastness of the Grand Canyon or the delight of New York. 


We wish to share the best things with those we love. We wish for them to feel the joy, happiness, bliss, and delight that we experienced when we encountered those special things. Now think of God, he is the Being from which all of those truly wonderful things you want to share streamed from, they flowed out of him and had their origin in his nature. He's the best thing around, the most beautiful, the most perfect, the most wonderful and oh so many other things. So, because he loves us, he seeks to share himself, he seeks to show himself to us, he desires to bring us into Heaven so we can look upon his face. Everything we have delighted in sharing with those we love are derived from him. Yes, he may be egocentric, but it's because it is really all about him, revolves around him, streams from him, comes back to him. He asks us to look at him not because he is selfish or vain but rather because he loves us and he knows that, truly, there is nothing else we would rather see, nothing else we could delight in more, he shares himself with us because that is the best he has to offer and it is far better than anything we ever attempted to share with those we love...except perhaps seeking to share him as he has shared himself with us.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Some memories of AmeriCorps and very stormy nights

I'm driving, driving, the sky is dark with clouds, lit with lightening, and the night is alive with memories, remembering another dark and stormy night.

Imagine driving down the interstate, it being raised on a slight embankment, and instead of seeing earth all around, covered with crops as it would normally be, there is only water, with here and there the tops of trees or lonely buildings poking above it.

We were told of another emergency shelter that we could stay in that night, only, as we get near to where our exit is, there's still water on both sides of the road, and as far as we can tell the whole town is under water. So we drive on into the gathering night, yet another storm comes, blessing the earth with water it does not need. Lightening flashes and all we can see around us is water, water everywhere. A few times as we've been traveling, there have been places where water has made it up to the embankment upon which the interstate is built and we slowly, cautiously creep across it (thankfully oftentimes there is a car in front of us so we can see that you are able to cross safely). The lightening flashes yet again and to left, over the fields of water, it appears a funnel cloud is forming. Thankfully it doesn't touch down, but it spooked us even more in an already stressful situation.

I think this is the night we decide to stay at a hotel, somewhere on higher ground, where we feel safe from the lurking horrors of the night.

Another day, another drive. We are making a delivery of blankets for the Red Cross over the Illinois border. The National Guard is in the process of rescuing and evacuating a flooded town and as it has been most days for a few weeks, it is rainy.

We drive around “Road Closed” signs and, again, drive over some small rivers of water. At one point our road is circling around a large hill and when we look down in the valley, where you would normally see cows or horses grazing, we see not one but two large barges towing other barges, lazily chugging around the valley in order to escape the raging Mississippi which refuses to stay in its banks.

Another night, another storm. We are sleeping in the tiny town hall of a tiny town. The building serves as post office, school, community center, as well as town hall.

We are awakened from sleep because the National Guard, whom we have been helping to build a wall around the the town, is pulling out because the sky is falling again and they think this is a losing battle. While we have rested the Guards we have worked with have been replaced with others, who did not know our vehicles have been left on higher ground and that we need a ride. New orders are issued, new logistics figured out and, after saying a few hurried goodbyes to the townspeople who still refuse to leave, we climb aboard to sit in back of a military transport which is designed to hold 30 instead of I and my 2 companions (our leader is up front guiding the Guard to the small church where we parked, where we hope the water hasn't reached).

The canvas in back is left open and, because these vehicles are so big, they not only go on roads which have a few shallow rivers flowing over them, but plow over roads that are completely submerged. So our view from the back is sometimes more eerie than ever, the whole world is made of water, even that upon which we travel, with here and there a tree or the top of a building poking up.

In 2010-2011 I was a part of the Americorps Saint Louis Emergency Response Team and I and 3 others where a part of responding to the Southern Missouri Floods where we help the National Guard fill sandbags, helped the Red Cross however they needed us, and assisted a town in coordinating their volunteer efforts. It was a surreal time but I met some amazing people and worked with some amazing people.


Oh, and the residents who refused to leave where able to keep their town hall from flooding. The Guard had built a wall around the entire town, but the water breached it. But, their hall was the heart of the town and in their saving it the residents saved their hearts and many of them returned after the waters had receded (though, depending on who you talk to, that may or may not have been unwise).  

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

The Conqueror of Monsters

The idea of this first began when I saw the picture you will see if you follow the link at the bottom of the post. Well, I suppose it goes back further to when I did a storytime at the library about “friendly monsters” but the picture brought the idea above my subconscious. The picture then caused me to think of Frankenstein's monster and how he became a creature of terror, for he didn't begin that way. Then, after the idea was underway, someone called MicroSFF who I follow on Twitter had this post:

"Are you a monster hunter?"
I look up from honing my spear and nod.
"You kill them?"
How to explain not all monsters are bad? "Yeah," I say.

After that, I decided I should take the idea and run with it. Maybe someday I will turn it into an actual story and not simply what it currently is. Without further ado:

They call me the Conqueror of Monsters, they think I break their wills, subdue them to my wishes but really all I do is talk and, more importantly, listen. I speak softly, calmly, and bring gifts. Nothing fancy, just things I know the “monsters” need. Yeah, the villagers bring “sacrifices” but they often run the other way screaming after they drop the present off. Not exactly an endearing behavior.

I first go amongst the villagers without letting them know who I really am, as if I'm just passing through and I begin to silently recruit. Though all I recruit are brave, they may not be whom you would expect. I get the soft spoken ones, the ones who when they were a child mended broken wings and the broken souls of those who others had given up on long ago. I get the ones who don't shy away from the pain and suffering of those around them but instead steadfastly attend the wounds that are both inside and out.

The idea of sending virgins has some merit behind it for, ideally, a virgin still possesses innocence and with innocence there is sometimes a willingness to love and care despite outward appearances. But, most of the time the villagers expect the virgin to be eaten and they beat this idea into the poor girl's head so she screams and screams into the monster's face until monster is reminded of all the reasons why they hate humanity...so they often end up killing her or leaving her for other beasts to happen upon. It is a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy. Every once in awhile their innocence wins over their misguided ignorance which the villagers have put in place and when the “monster” comes slowly and cautiously towards her she realizes that perhaps it doesn't want to harm her and she succeeds in taming the “monster” and, thus, the idea of offering of a virgin is reinforced. Or sometimes the monster is so disgusted by the screaming child and the idea which put them there that they move on. But again, often the wolves or bears eat the poor thing so the villagers think it was the virgin that appeased the beast and made it go away.

This type of success is actually what started me along my present tract (the taming, not the leaving). I used to be the typical old-fashioned monster killer and was quite good at it, traveled far and wide, but in my travels I began hearing of these tamings. So I started interviewing the successful virgins and was surprised when the first few asked if I also wanted to interview the monsters as well.

I began to find out that there was something all of these monsters had in common, they had all been desperately lonely and their deepest longing wasn't for blood or pillage but for companionship. They had become monsters because throughout their lives they had been repeatedly spurred and rejected by humanity. When they were young they would often try and save humans from drowning or wolves or some other predicament but instead of thanks they saw fear and sometimes disgust.

I'm sure you remember the story, how Frankenstein's monster saved the little girl, when she realized what had saved her, she just screamed and screamed; then Frankenstein's monster realized just how alone he was, how despised he was, so he began to despise.

Basically the thing all monsters have in common is that they are truly unique, either one of a king begotten of mad scientists or mislead magicians or, as in the case of the dragons, endangered species. Most of the time they are very aware of their appearances, perceive themselves as scary, so they are shy and keep to the shadows. Well, though I can say truthfully that some are quite beautiful once you get to know them, they are often quite intimidating and impressive so when most people happen to notice them “lurking in the shadows” they're quite startled which leads to fear, which reinforces the monsters whole idea about themselves.
So over time the monsters, in their loneliness and rejection, become bitter and finally hateful. In other words, they become a monster, they didn't start out as one.

Can you guess why I recruit the villagers I do? Because how I deal with monsters, how I defeat them, is to become their friend and then help some of the villagers to do likewise.

Yeah, it's more tedious and time-consuming than chopping their head off but it's more challenging and I never really liked killing anyway.


http://www.pinterest.com/pin/311311392965069448/

Friday, June 27, 2014

Book review for Pleasant Valley by Louis Bromfield

Book Review for Pleasant Valley by Louis Bromfield

Copyright 1945. Why, you may ask, am I reviewing a book from 1945? Because I think it may be more relevant now than when it was written.

I found this book in the gardening section of a very small country library because it is classified as a “farming memoir” and it is, but it is much more. It's about economics, architecture, the stability of France (at least up until the book was written), dogs, oddballs, self-sufficiency, sustainability, conservation, politics, dangers of raising the federal minimum wage, causes of poverty and its perpetuation, maple sugar, a love of nature, and, oh yeah, farming.

The reason I say it's as relevant today as when it was written or even more so, is because though we have made our farming practices more advanced, we are still “strip mining” most of the land which is being farmed and in many areas not much is being done to actively restore land which has been exhausted in the past. If Mr. Bromfield could catch a glimpse into today, at our wildfires in the West and the flooding in the Mid-West while at the same time having an alarmingly decreasing water-table, he would be very tempted to say, “I warned you, I told you so, and told you how to fix it.” Admittedly, he does share that the methods used on his farm may not succeed as well in other places because the glacial soil his farm is located above gives some advantages in soil restoration.

I think it is relevant because there was a start of a “food revolution” during the writing of Pleasant Valley which then largely died off but, I think, is having a recurrence in present day. Sadly, the government was, in part, behind the last one. They were the ones who were leading the way towards better land practices, they wisely sought to spread conservation and good land stewardship through example (in the form of “pilot farms” and land areas) and helping promote a largely self-supported organization called Friends of the Land, made up of concerned citizens who recognized our land as one of Americans greatest assets. I say sadly because, currently, I think such government support is lacking or at least I have not heard much of it.

Pleasant Valley is about being connected to the land and realizing every citizen, whether on a tractor or in a sky-rise, is tied to the fate of the land. That what the farmer does and, really, every landowner does effects not just them but the country as a whole. The health of the land, the health of our farms and the animals and fruits grown there are linked to our health, our intelligence, our sense of security, our future and when our land is poor, it perpetuates poverty because our health, the development of our intelligence, our sense of security, and our hope for the future suffers.

The overarching theme of Pleasant Valley is that our land is our most valuable asset as a country and having as many citizens as possible to own a little piece of land which they can care for and nurture and, in turn, be nurtured by it is the best way to have a strong and stable democracy. This is because these people, in being tied to the land, have a stake in our country and its well-being and in having the security that land can offer (in terms of producing much of what that person actually needs, if times get tough), they are free to vote for the best government, they are more free to vote because they are not dependent on a certain type of government and their hand-outs.

The above idea kind of goes back to my post about people “putting down roots” versus having a renter mentality in relation to the community in which they live. The same idea applies, if someone is tied to a piece of land, is clearly shown that their security is bound to that piece of land and the health of it (and they are taught how to care for it), then they will better treasure it. Bromfield says this is how France survived multiple invasions and revolutions, though citizens lost jobs, though their currency and economy were affected and disrupted, many countrymen had small farms that their families had cared for and cherished, so they tightened their belts a little and were still able to independently survive without putting much of a stress on a already overtaxed, unstable government.

Another prevailing theme which Bromfield shares is to work with nature instead of against her, to learn from her methods in soil restoration and merely speed them up by the help you, as a farmer, contribute. To plant in such a way that you help the land as it provides for you, to design your farm so as to harvest water and hold onto it, rather than letting it all run away with your topsoil. To organize your fields, orchards, and vegetable garden so nature helps to pollinate, control pests, and encourage game.

As I was telling my mother about this book she shared that she remembers some family friends when she was growing up that had an orchard and, beside the orchard, they grew a variety of berries for the birds. The family did not really harvest the berries, but left them for the birds and the birds, in turn, did most of the pest control in the orchard. This is the type of thing Bromfield advocates.

This is a book that I would like to own so I could underline and look back through. Not only to better know how to care for the land I will hopefully someday own but also so I can live a better, more “simple,” fuller life.

Now for some quotes:

(from page 10)
The permanence, the continuity of France was not born of weariness and economic defeat, but was a living thing, anchored to the soil, to the very earth itself. Any French peasant, any French workingman with his little plot of ground and his modest home and wages, which by American standards were small, had more permanence, more solidity, more security, than the American workingman or white-collar worker who received, according to French standards, fabulous wages, who rented the home he lived in and was perpetually in debt for his car, his radio, his washing machine.

Sitting there it occurred to me that the high standard of living in America was an illusion based upon credit and the installment plan, which threw a man and his family into the street and on public relief the moment his factory closed and he lost his job. It seemed to me that real continuity, real love of one's country, real permanence had to do with not with mechanical inventions and high wages but with the earth and man's love of the soil upon which he lived.

Some wisdom shared by Bromfield's neighbor:

(from page 144)
He looked down at his big hands and noticed, as I did, that some of the black damp loam of the fence row still clung to them. He brushed them awkwardly together. “I was just digging into the fence row to see what was going on there underground. A fellow can learn a lot by watching his own land and what go on in it and on it...Nellie always said a farm could teach you more than you could teach it if you just kept your eyes open...Nellie...that was my wife”
“Of course,” I said, “I remember.”

Before I share the next one, I should share, Bromfield was not in the “middle class,” he was a bestselling author, wrote scripts for Hollywood, etc.

(from 132)
The middle class is the backbone of democracy – in fact democracy cannot exist without a flourishing middle class. Perhaps the simplest definition of the middle class is that of a group of citizens who own something, who have some stake in individuality, in freedom, in good government, in the protection of civil rights and in the nation as a whole. Democracy is essentially a giant co-operative in which all the citizens have a stake...A man with a stake in the nation is independent. He resists being pushed about and regimented. A man without economic security, dependent upon the state to care for him whether it be to provide jobs or to pay him a dole when he is out of a job, is helpless. He can only continue to vote for the kind of government which provides him with a roof over his head, a miserable wage and food for the mouths of himself and his children. For him there is no security and no other way out.

(from 314)

We have set about to turn the wheel of fertility moving forward again...What we have been doing has been a relatively simple thing. We have sought merely to build as Nature builds, to plant and sow and reap as Nature meant us to do; we have sought to rebuild the earth as Nature built it in the beginning. With man's ingenuity we have been able to do it more rapidly than Nature herself, but only because we worked with the law and within the idiom of Nature. Man has never been able to impose his own law upon Nature nor to alter her laws, but he can, by working with her, accomplish much...

(from 316)

Each farm is a tiny world in itself, with each day its small play of tragedy, of comedy, of farce. Each day is in itself a cycle of the history of the earth.

(from 318)

For the children the rewards have been greater possibly then for the adults. There has been health and good food and fields and woods to roam over, animals to care for ,streams to fish and swim in, and all those contacts with air and earth and water which make for wisdom and understanding and judgment and for those resources later in life which are indestructible and far beyond either fame or riches in the long and trying span of life. They have learned, I think too, the great importance and solace of work, not the aimless, monotonous work of riveting and fitting together nuts and bolts, but of work which creates something, work which is richly its own reward, within the natural scheme of man's existence – the kind of work which contributes to the progress and welfare of mankind and the plenty of the earth upon which he lives.

There are other portions I would like to share, but some of them are pages long, so I will just once again encourage you to read the book.




Tuesday, May 27, 2014

The Product of an Overactive Imagination: Mother Nature is Sentient


The reason we haven't realized it is she is not some wise old Mother, she's like the 3-year-old who allows you to build a tower with blocks, only to knock them down delightedly and say “Do it again.” She is at this game endlessly with man and all our works, because she is so vast she waits more patiently than a 3-year-old, because her life is so long her tearing down can take generations, but it is no less deliberate; from her view it is no less a pleasure when she swipes her hand and it takes 2000 thousand years to complete the swipe. But sometimes, like a 3-year-old, she throws a tantrum when something isn't coming down fast enough, she employs not only her slow hand of erosion, rust, slowly shifting earth, and rains, but pulls out the baseball bat, the gun, and the missile. A 3-year-old holds these in her hands, fires at our works, smiles and says “Do it again.” And we, we do it again, we build it bigger, we build it stronger, we dare her to shake it, buffet it, and hit it with all she's worth and, because she's a 3-year-old, she'll gladly oblige.

Next time the wind howls and shakes your house, listen and hear if you don't agree. She's laughing at you, at us. To her it's all a game.