Sunday, 6 August 2017
Sailing by the Stars has Moved!
Sailing by the Stars has moved to www.sailingbythestars.com. Please come visit :)
Tuesday, 15 November 2016
Why you should feel good about yourself this week
This week on social media has been rough, amen?
Like everyone else, I've been overflowing with thoughts and feelings. I've had a bajillion ideas for posts or status updates that were rejected one by one because I wouldn't be adding anything new, or because I didn't think I could express myself without being too sassy.
But inspiration just struck me in the shower, as it is wont to do, and the result is this quick quiz as to how you should feel about yourself post-election.
In the week following the election of Donald J. Trump to the post of President of the United States, have you...
1. Interacted with a Democrat and a Republican? Better yet, have you interacted with someone who rejects clear-cut categories and wants justice for all?
2. Helped another human do something, or given a gift? Were you helped? Did you receive a gift?
3. Cleaned up after yourself in a public space or in your home?
4. Given serious consideration to the current and future state of the nation of America, with particular attention as to how you might improve this state?
5. Avoided insulting or criticizing someone who kind of seemed like they would deserve it? Avoided insulting or criticizing someone who totally didn't deserve it?
6. Shared anything with someone else? (an evening, ideas, a drink, a hope, a pew)
7. Did something (or avoided doing something) for yourself instead of for the approval of others?
8. Read a book, internet article, or blog post? (demonstrating a willingness to hear someone else's views, and yes, this one counts)
9. Tried to comfort yourself or someone else who was sad or confused?
10. Kept trying to be a good citizen/person, in spite of poor role models?
Scoring guide: if you answered "yes" to one or more of the questions, you win. Turns out, no one can take away your ability to act like a decent person. (Thank goodness!) Suggested followup: get offline for a while and treat yo'self to some real, live living.
Like everyone else, I've been overflowing with thoughts and feelings. I've had a bajillion ideas for posts or status updates that were rejected one by one because I wouldn't be adding anything new, or because I didn't think I could express myself without being too sassy.
But inspiration just struck me in the shower, as it is wont to do, and the result is this quick quiz as to how you should feel about yourself post-election.
In the week following the election of Donald J. Trump to the post of President of the United States, have you...
1. Interacted with a Democrat and a Republican? Better yet, have you interacted with someone who rejects clear-cut categories and wants justice for all?
2. Helped another human do something, or given a gift? Were you helped? Did you receive a gift?
3. Cleaned up after yourself in a public space or in your home?
4. Given serious consideration to the current and future state of the nation of America, with particular attention as to how you might improve this state?
5. Avoided insulting or criticizing someone who kind of seemed like they would deserve it? Avoided insulting or criticizing someone who totally didn't deserve it?
6. Shared anything with someone else? (an evening, ideas, a drink, a hope, a pew)
7. Did something (or avoided doing something) for yourself instead of for the approval of others?
8. Read a book, internet article, or blog post? (demonstrating a willingness to hear someone else's views, and yes, this one counts)
9. Tried to comfort yourself or someone else who was sad or confused?
10. Kept trying to be a good citizen/person, in spite of poor role models?
Scoring guide: if you answered "yes" to one or more of the questions, you win. Turns out, no one can take away your ability to act like a decent person. (Thank goodness!) Suggested followup: get offline for a while and treat yo'self to some real, live living.
Thursday, 29 September 2016
Deepwater Horizon
I woke up at 4:44 in the morning feeling like there was a dementor in the room, my heart racing. I chose to blame the prior night's movie outing; I had gone to see Deepwater Horizon, about the massive 2010 oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. It was a much more violent movie than I'm used to watching. The outcome of the story is fixed in history, so I'm not sure whether this post can contain spoilers.
Even though this film depicted a living nightmare, a huge inferno, pain, suffering, blood, shattering glass, creepy flickering lighting, men being tossed around like rag dolls, its grounding in true events kept it from being a horror movie. Fortunately for me, most of the gore was implied rather than shown. I only had to cover my eyes once. Glass was involved. Last week or so a minuscule sliver of glass sliced into my palm and I was shocked at how painful it was. Fast-forward to the movie: I couldn't even imagine what the naked character covered in glass shards from head to toe was going through, as he dug embedded glass out of his foot, and I didn't want to see it (I could still hear during this part, and I heard a lot of gasping).
Also, I would expect a horror movie to have little to offer in the way of purpose or a takeaway. But after seeing Deepwater Horizon, I texted my former safety supervisor at an old job and called it the ultimate safety movie. ("If people push back about following rules, show them this.") The explosion and deaths happened because safety wasn't being treated with the appropriate gravity and legitimate, measurable red flags were ignored. People often cut corners with no apparent consequences, but this movie depicted a sickening illustration of what consequences could look like. We don't do safety testing or obey best practices for funsies. We do because it matters. Watching this movie made me want to go obey some laws. It made my friend want to go buy an electric car. I would guess that her reaction is more typical.
By the way, I bet bp is just thrilled that this movie is coming out. A bp official is basically the villain of the movie. He is the personification of greed, causing the deaths of eleven people by his singular focus on hitting profit targets. I kept picturing his face during the horrific parts and thinking, "greed caused this hell." Though he is the inciting villain, he clearly did not want the rig to blow and eventually detonate. Yet "oil" isn't a super satisfying villain. It's just doing what oil does. Denial and negligence were the problem, the variable. In light of what I saw in the movie, I found it really stressful and sad that the bp workers were released of their 2010 charges of manslaughter. Their misplaced priorities caused eleven needless deaths (and all that brings for those left behind) plus untold pain, suffering, and fear for the survivors and their families. Wikipedia contains further damning details that the movie alludes to about how there had been a pattern of using "band-aids and gum" to fix real problems that needed a full fix. Wikipedia states, "according to a number of rig workers, it was understood that workers could get fired for raising safety concerns that might delay drilling." This pun is in poor taste, but... sounds like they got fired anyway! And also, what the hell, bp?
Lastly, I appreciated that the movie was able to take the topic "safety testing on an oil rig" and make it entertaining. They did a decent job of conveying the needed information without making me fall asleep. There was one moment I felt confused, but they must have recovered nicely because when it was all over, I could no longer remember what I didn't understand. And even had I understood none of what they were talking about, the interpersonal dynamics were plain--a seasoned expert finds that his gut instinct of dread is (ambiguously) supported by the numbers, but a greedy business rep is behind schedule, motivated by money, wants to impress his own supervisor, and has enough authority to override the objections. In short, the struggle between intuition/honesty and a fixation on a specific outcome. Generally, as in this movie specifically, I believe you should let go of a need for a preset outcome and deal with matters as they are instead of how you'd like them to be (which is a form of denial). After all, lives may hang in this balance.
Even though this film depicted a living nightmare, a huge inferno, pain, suffering, blood, shattering glass, creepy flickering lighting, men being tossed around like rag dolls, its grounding in true events kept it from being a horror movie. Fortunately for me, most of the gore was implied rather than shown. I only had to cover my eyes once. Glass was involved. Last week or so a minuscule sliver of glass sliced into my palm and I was shocked at how painful it was. Fast-forward to the movie: I couldn't even imagine what the naked character covered in glass shards from head to toe was going through, as he dug embedded glass out of his foot, and I didn't want to see it (I could still hear during this part, and I heard a lot of gasping).
Also, I would expect a horror movie to have little to offer in the way of purpose or a takeaway. But after seeing Deepwater Horizon, I texted my former safety supervisor at an old job and called it the ultimate safety movie. ("If people push back about following rules, show them this.") The explosion and deaths happened because safety wasn't being treated with the appropriate gravity and legitimate, measurable red flags were ignored. People often cut corners with no apparent consequences, but this movie depicted a sickening illustration of what consequences could look like. We don't do safety testing or obey best practices for funsies. We do because it matters. Watching this movie made me want to go obey some laws. It made my friend want to go buy an electric car. I would guess that her reaction is more typical.
By the way, I bet bp is just thrilled that this movie is coming out. A bp official is basically the villain of the movie. He is the personification of greed, causing the deaths of eleven people by his singular focus on hitting profit targets. I kept picturing his face during the horrific parts and thinking, "greed caused this hell." Though he is the inciting villain, he clearly did not want the rig to blow and eventually detonate. Yet "oil" isn't a super satisfying villain. It's just doing what oil does. Denial and negligence were the problem, the variable. In light of what I saw in the movie, I found it really stressful and sad that the bp workers were released of their 2010 charges of manslaughter. Their misplaced priorities caused eleven needless deaths (and all that brings for those left behind) plus untold pain, suffering, and fear for the survivors and their families. Wikipedia contains further damning details that the movie alludes to about how there had been a pattern of using "band-aids and gum" to fix real problems that needed a full fix. Wikipedia states, "according to a number of rig workers, it was understood that workers could get fired for raising safety concerns that might delay drilling." This pun is in poor taste, but... sounds like they got fired anyway! And also, what the hell, bp?
Lastly, I appreciated that the movie was able to take the topic "safety testing on an oil rig" and make it entertaining. They did a decent job of conveying the needed information without making me fall asleep. There was one moment I felt confused, but they must have recovered nicely because when it was all over, I could no longer remember what I didn't understand. And even had I understood none of what they were talking about, the interpersonal dynamics were plain--a seasoned expert finds that his gut instinct of dread is (ambiguously) supported by the numbers, but a greedy business rep is behind schedule, motivated by money, wants to impress his own supervisor, and has enough authority to override the objections. In short, the struggle between intuition/honesty and a fixation on a specific outcome. Generally, as in this movie specifically, I believe you should let go of a need for a preset outcome and deal with matters as they are instead of how you'd like them to be (which is a form of denial). After all, lives may hang in this balance.
Thursday, 25 August 2016
When a Story Fails
I tend to really enjoy teen fiction, especially when it's set in dystopian worlds. I enjoy the directness of the analogies, how the very setup of the setting reveals the problems. The protagonist lives in a society that is rigidly controlled, usually but not always in North America far in the future. At some point between now and then, the powers that be decided they knew what was best for everyone and forcibly implemented--and now forcibly maintain--the structure they think best for society. Usually this involves segregating people or some kind of caste system. But the protagonist, though not always from the start, can see that the price paid for enforcing the structure (such as required pill-taking to make people docile, strict laws or curfews, slavery, lying and deception, etc.) is not worth it. The protagonist becomes the special one (or one of the special ones) who join the resistance (which is always already in progress, and often includes their parents) and find a way to break down the society. I've just summed up 90% or more of the genre.
I love how pure and sweet it is when authors harp on how wonderful it is to have a family or at least loved ones, to be near open flame even though it might burn you, to enjoy the natural world, to listen to whatever music you want and earn a living the way you choose all while risking the possibility you might fall in love and make a few decisions based on your hormones. To be happy and sad, sometimes both at the same time, and make your own choices even though that means the world will contain cracks in its beauty, crime, and actual crack (the drug). I find that each and every one of these books in its own way champions free will and asserts that without it, life is senseless and unreal. They can't help but link love and free will, because these two are nothing if not soul sisters. I see Christianity busting out at the seams, even if the story itself never mentions Jesus or faith. The truths of human nature as revealed in the Bible cannot be denied in such a nakedly direct view of the world as this genre presents, even when they explicitly pick on religion (I say, go ahead you guys, not even Jesus defends empty ritual; in fact, He condemns it). It's basically the opposite of an obscure postmodern story about nothing, in which layers of meaning are shrouded in mystery and pretty senseless words and nothing quite ever happens.
Though they all follow a similar basic premise, there's a wide range in storytelling quality. I find myself intrigued at this vast range. Arrogant as it sounds, it sometimes comforts me. While reading the lower end of that spectrum I think, "if this could get published, maybe I have a shot at a book someday."
Today I read most of a teen dystopian fiction book that was pretty terrible. I'm not entirely sure why I finished it, actually. Perhaps as a form of procrastination, or simply because it was going quickly and I could add it to my list of books I've read in 2016. I don't want to be Cruel (that's your only hint about the book's title) so I won't reveal specifics. I doubt you've heard of it.
Now that we're anonymous, why was it so terrible? What sets it apart from (below) other stories? For starters, it was message-driven rather than plot- or character- driven. And the message was unclear. The world they wove (that's another clue, actually) was extremely complex, yet barely explained. It reminded me of the idea, "if you could walk through walls, why wouldn't you fall through the floor and never stop falling?" In this book in particular, if an all-powerful group of people were able to manipulate time and space, why would anything ever go wrong at all? What is even the point of life? Seriously... none was ever given. I didn't understand why anyone in this universe bothered to want anything, nor did I see them wanting anything besides for their relatives not to die. What an awful and colorless existence. Plus, unrealistic. In real life, you want all kinds of things. For people to like you, new headphones, to be a better cook, to have a meaningful life. This book: none of that.
In the same vein, the book had a conspicuous lack of character motivation. A motive for controlling others (which was, like, the primary function of this world) was never named, except in passing. In this genre, "safety" is given as the number one reason for rigid governmental control. I think today's book briefly mentioned that concept, but never in a specific way or with a specific example. A teacher kills a town of people to prove some kind of point or lesson, without explaining what that lesson was. I mean, the lesson was, "obey, or people will get hurt," but no explanation for why or how they'd be hurt if the teacher hadn't killed them for the student's disobedience. The overall lack of motives for all the characters' behavior made for a tiresome and disjointed narrative.
In these books, the villains tend to be one-dimensional. It's always an exception to the author's credit when they have some humanizing backstory. Typically, none of them see any issue with wiping people's memories or minds and making them walking zombies with no personality. Warning: this reveals some deep roots of my nerdiness... there's an Animorphs book in which they run tests on humans to try to remove their free will. Though it appears the researchers succeed (I think Cassie doubts all along), eventually one of the scientists admits that a human without free will is nothing at all, a paradox, an impossibility, comatose. All they really did was get some people to pretend they didn't have free will to appease whoever commissioned the research. This struck me as intellectually honest in a way that the offending teen fiction books are not. To me it's a plot hole that memory removal would even be possible. I suppose for the sake of story I'm willing to permit the idea of slight memory modification, though I think that would be pretty damaging to a person in manifold unpredictable ways. But wiping someone entirely and making them blank? No way. How would such a person make decisions like which shirt to put on or when to eat? Memory defines us. We're influenced a million different ways by subtleties of past experience we may not even be aware of. There would not be enough structure in a memory-free brain to put a sentence together. What is language if not remembering how the letters are pronounced and what they mean when they're put together? (By the way, I think language is absolutely amazing... we remember hundreds of thousands of words, not to mention the countless ways they can be arranged, and we start doing this even as children!) No, I don't think forcibly taking someone's free will from their mind is a possibility, though it could possibly be done by tricking them into neglecting to use that power.
I suppose that's enough critique of this book for now. I respect that this author pursued her (is that considered another clue?) dream of being an author, and that she worked the system enough to publish a series (shoot, another clue). I don't want to tear her down, which is why I'm leaving her out of this. But having said all that, this book was the opposite of compelling. It's okay, she chose an incredibly ambitious premise, perhaps too ambitious for even a master storyteller. There's truly something to be said for simplicity. Good thing, because it means our lives can matter tremendously even as we live out a course of ordinary days.
I love how pure and sweet it is when authors harp on how wonderful it is to have a family or at least loved ones, to be near open flame even though it might burn you, to enjoy the natural world, to listen to whatever music you want and earn a living the way you choose all while risking the possibility you might fall in love and make a few decisions based on your hormones. To be happy and sad, sometimes both at the same time, and make your own choices even though that means the world will contain cracks in its beauty, crime, and actual crack (the drug). I find that each and every one of these books in its own way champions free will and asserts that without it, life is senseless and unreal. They can't help but link love and free will, because these two are nothing if not soul sisters. I see Christianity busting out at the seams, even if the story itself never mentions Jesus or faith. The truths of human nature as revealed in the Bible cannot be denied in such a nakedly direct view of the world as this genre presents, even when they explicitly pick on religion (I say, go ahead you guys, not even Jesus defends empty ritual; in fact, He condemns it). It's basically the opposite of an obscure postmodern story about nothing, in which layers of meaning are shrouded in mystery and pretty senseless words and nothing quite ever happens.
Though they all follow a similar basic premise, there's a wide range in storytelling quality. I find myself intrigued at this vast range. Arrogant as it sounds, it sometimes comforts me. While reading the lower end of that spectrum I think, "if this could get published, maybe I have a shot at a book someday."
Today I read most of a teen dystopian fiction book that was pretty terrible. I'm not entirely sure why I finished it, actually. Perhaps as a form of procrastination, or simply because it was going quickly and I could add it to my list of books I've read in 2016. I don't want to be Cruel (that's your only hint about the book's title) so I won't reveal specifics. I doubt you've heard of it.
Now that we're anonymous, why was it so terrible? What sets it apart from (below) other stories? For starters, it was message-driven rather than plot- or character- driven. And the message was unclear. The world they wove (that's another clue, actually) was extremely complex, yet barely explained. It reminded me of the idea, "if you could walk through walls, why wouldn't you fall through the floor and never stop falling?" In this book in particular, if an all-powerful group of people were able to manipulate time and space, why would anything ever go wrong at all? What is even the point of life? Seriously... none was ever given. I didn't understand why anyone in this universe bothered to want anything, nor did I see them wanting anything besides for their relatives not to die. What an awful and colorless existence. Plus, unrealistic. In real life, you want all kinds of things. For people to like you, new headphones, to be a better cook, to have a meaningful life. This book: none of that.
In the same vein, the book had a conspicuous lack of character motivation. A motive for controlling others (which was, like, the primary function of this world) was never named, except in passing. In this genre, "safety" is given as the number one reason for rigid governmental control. I think today's book briefly mentioned that concept, but never in a specific way or with a specific example. A teacher kills a town of people to prove some kind of point or lesson, without explaining what that lesson was. I mean, the lesson was, "obey, or people will get hurt," but no explanation for why or how they'd be hurt if the teacher hadn't killed them for the student's disobedience. The overall lack of motives for all the characters' behavior made for a tiresome and disjointed narrative.
In these books, the villains tend to be one-dimensional. It's always an exception to the author's credit when they have some humanizing backstory. Typically, none of them see any issue with wiping people's memories or minds and making them walking zombies with no personality. Warning: this reveals some deep roots of my nerdiness... there's an Animorphs book in which they run tests on humans to try to remove their free will. Though it appears the researchers succeed (I think Cassie doubts all along), eventually one of the scientists admits that a human without free will is nothing at all, a paradox, an impossibility, comatose. All they really did was get some people to pretend they didn't have free will to appease whoever commissioned the research. This struck me as intellectually honest in a way that the offending teen fiction books are not. To me it's a plot hole that memory removal would even be possible. I suppose for the sake of story I'm willing to permit the idea of slight memory modification, though I think that would be pretty damaging to a person in manifold unpredictable ways. But wiping someone entirely and making them blank? No way. How would such a person make decisions like which shirt to put on or when to eat? Memory defines us. We're influenced a million different ways by subtleties of past experience we may not even be aware of. There would not be enough structure in a memory-free brain to put a sentence together. What is language if not remembering how the letters are pronounced and what they mean when they're put together? (By the way, I think language is absolutely amazing... we remember hundreds of thousands of words, not to mention the countless ways they can be arranged, and we start doing this even as children!) No, I don't think forcibly taking someone's free will from their mind is a possibility, though it could possibly be done by tricking them into neglecting to use that power.
I suppose that's enough critique of this book for now. I respect that this author pursued her (is that considered another clue?) dream of being an author, and that she worked the system enough to publish a series (shoot, another clue). I don't want to tear her down, which is why I'm leaving her out of this. But having said all that, this book was the opposite of compelling. It's okay, she chose an incredibly ambitious premise, perhaps too ambitious for even a master storyteller. There's truly something to be said for simplicity. Good thing, because it means our lives can matter tremendously even as we live out a course of ordinary days.
Thursday, 18 August 2016
Don't put Happiness on Hold
I'm rereading my new favorite book series (at least until I reread Harry Potter, probably) and it's just as much fun as the first time through. I rushed my first reading, I think because I wanted to see what was going to happen with the (very understated but awesome) love story. I admit that mattered more to me than the other huge happenings that affected more characters and defined the main plotline. Not that that says a lot about me or anything.
My second readthrough is also amazing, but it's different. I'm struck by plenty of foreshadowing and details I missed the first time through. Things I didn't think mattered at all became super important in light of the eventual conclusion. There were clues sprinkled all throughout the books that I didn't have the proper perspective or patience to pick up on before. I was too distracted by pressing ahead to see how things would turn out.
Knowing the ending doesn't make me appreciate the story less; it gives me hope for the hard times. When something terrible happens, I can tell myself, "it's all gonna be okay." I can enjoy the time I have with the characters, knowing some of them die. I can appreciate the richness of a friendship before betrayal enters the picture. I know good wins, even when all seems to be lost.
I liken my first readthrough to my natural (fleshly, in Christianese) inclination to live quickly and impatiently rush through boredom to juicier things; in other words, how I've lived most of my life. In this mindset, waiting to get what I want seems a mistake: something to be endured, not enjoyed. My second readthrough more resembles living with a redeemed mind and eternity in view. This unhurried state is relatively new to me and feels a million times better.
Though many of my hopes for my life have yet to materialize, I've realized I don't have to wait to be thankful, and I don't have to get upset when the road seems to turn the opposite direction. It's as simple as imagining how I hope to feel when my dreams come true and allowing myself to feel that right now, no strings attached. Why should I put my excitement on hold? It could be years... time wasted or dissipated into other emotions besides gratitude, excitement and joy. I see no reason to wait. If my dreams do not come to pass, then I've at least lived several extra years with positive emotion. And this isn't just wishful thinking or fantasy; as a child of God, called according to His purposes, I know for sure something good is coming for me.
I think this is what Paul meant when he wrote that "we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame," (Romans 5:2b-5a) I think boredom or waiting can be considered a form of suffering, but we can still be totally okay with them, knowing what's coming. And I think the last verse means we won't regret hope or be embarrassed we hoped, both because God's promises are true and Jesus is actually coming back and because hoping is an honorable and positive thing, whether or not life turns out the way we expected it to.
As a sidebar, I also find that trusting my path is headed for good releases me from feeling envious of my friends (most of the time!). I can honestly celebrate with those who celebrate, seeing each success story as proof that success keeps coming for us all one by one, rather than thinking there's a success pie that's shrinking as it's served up and if I don't get my slice soon I'll starve.
In my head I've been calling this mindset "preemptive gratitude," though "faith" and "trust" would both work well. The Bible calls it hope a few times. Romans 8:24b-25 says that "hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently." Hope is good (duh), but it's not possible to hope for what we have. Earthly life is our one chance to love God by trusting Him and believing in His promises even though we can't yet see the outcome. When our earthly lives are through, our faith (our hope) will be turned to sight. Living in a world that's still broken provides our only chance at hope. And by the way, what is more majestic: a light shining in broad daylight or a light that shines in darkness?
Christ-followers know good wins in the end. This is why celebration and dancing and feasting are all appropriate even in this world full of crime and hate and poverty, why we say of God, "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." (Psalm 23:5a) This verse closely relates to enjoying and savoring my book because I know for sure that the very real and dangerous threats from the enemy won't derail the ultimate mission. Joy isn't insensitive or thoughtless; it's acknowledging a deeper truth. We're all free to ease up on the breakneck pace and enter fully into our lives, secure in a good ending. We can delight in each twist and turn of the story without rushing or despairing. We can celebrate the happy ending right now and let it inform all our choices until it gets here. We don't have to wait to be glad it all turns out well: we can celebrate that truth today, in whatever city and life station we presently find ourselves.
"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful." (Hebrews 10:23) Let's enjoy the benefits of hope now, despite obstacles, because we can, and because the author of the story of humanity and the world is trustworthy and has promised us a good ending.
My second readthrough is also amazing, but it's different. I'm struck by plenty of foreshadowing and details I missed the first time through. Things I didn't think mattered at all became super important in light of the eventual conclusion. There were clues sprinkled all throughout the books that I didn't have the proper perspective or patience to pick up on before. I was too distracted by pressing ahead to see how things would turn out.
Knowing the ending doesn't make me appreciate the story less; it gives me hope for the hard times. When something terrible happens, I can tell myself, "it's all gonna be okay." I can enjoy the time I have with the characters, knowing some of them die. I can appreciate the richness of a friendship before betrayal enters the picture. I know good wins, even when all seems to be lost.
I liken my first readthrough to my natural (fleshly, in Christianese) inclination to live quickly and impatiently rush through boredom to juicier things; in other words, how I've lived most of my life. In this mindset, waiting to get what I want seems a mistake: something to be endured, not enjoyed. My second readthrough more resembles living with a redeemed mind and eternity in view. This unhurried state is relatively new to me and feels a million times better.
Though many of my hopes for my life have yet to materialize, I've realized I don't have to wait to be thankful, and I don't have to get upset when the road seems to turn the opposite direction. It's as simple as imagining how I hope to feel when my dreams come true and allowing myself to feel that right now, no strings attached. Why should I put my excitement on hold? It could be years... time wasted or dissipated into other emotions besides gratitude, excitement and joy. I see no reason to wait. If my dreams do not come to pass, then I've at least lived several extra years with positive emotion. And this isn't just wishful thinking or fantasy; as a child of God, called according to His purposes, I know for sure something good is coming for me.
I think this is what Paul meant when he wrote that "we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame," (Romans 5:2b-5a) I think boredom or waiting can be considered a form of suffering, but we can still be totally okay with them, knowing what's coming. And I think the last verse means we won't regret hope or be embarrassed we hoped, both because God's promises are true and Jesus is actually coming back and because hoping is an honorable and positive thing, whether or not life turns out the way we expected it to.
As a sidebar, I also find that trusting my path is headed for good releases me from feeling envious of my friends (most of the time!). I can honestly celebrate with those who celebrate, seeing each success story as proof that success keeps coming for us all one by one, rather than thinking there's a success pie that's shrinking as it's served up and if I don't get my slice soon I'll starve.
Christ-followers know good wins in the end. This is why celebration and dancing and feasting are all appropriate even in this world full of crime and hate and poverty, why we say of God, "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." (Psalm 23:5a) This verse closely relates to enjoying and savoring my book because I know for sure that the very real and dangerous threats from the enemy won't derail the ultimate mission. Joy isn't insensitive or thoughtless; it's acknowledging a deeper truth. We're all free to ease up on the breakneck pace and enter fully into our lives, secure in a good ending. We can delight in each twist and turn of the story without rushing or despairing. We can celebrate the happy ending right now and let it inform all our choices until it gets here. We don't have to wait to be glad it all turns out well: we can celebrate that truth today, in whatever city and life station we presently find ourselves.
Friday, 12 August 2016
When I Can't Escape Myself
Yesterday I met two friends at a coffee shop. I woke up late, so I was a bit late for our meeting and brought some food with me. During the course of our conversation, my friends both commented on my salt shaker from home. One asked where I bought my banana chips and sun butter and how expensive they were and wanted to try some. I was surprised that physical reality was filtering into our exchange (which was mostly abstract topics: emotions, life circumstances, God at work). I'd subconsciously expected the food to be outside the realm of discussion. When it wasn't, it reminded me that when I brought myself to the table, I was bringing more than a mind. I brought a body carrying a bag of snacks.* Maybe I'd forgotten because when I'm speaking, I look at my friend's face and I don't see me anywhere.
I'm surprised when I influence others because I am my influence, and from the inside looking out I don't see how it comes across. I am my biases, so I forget to factor my biases into my analyses. The overintellectual part of my mind forgets to be rooted in reality. Maybe I have a gnostic urge to rise "above," as though there's anything inherently preferable about the immaterial. But I can't disown my body; it's me. My mind can't be present in a room my body's not. Even Skype requires eyes and/or ears. Without my brain's actual gray matter, I couldn't carry the electricity that forms the intangible thoughts I prefer to identify with. It's kind of a mystery that I am not just a happy ghost, nor merely bone and meat, but inseparably all of the above and more.
For better or for worse, with people the medium is part of the message. On a simple level like, "if your relationships are garbage I'm not going to take advice from you," but also in a deeper and less logical sense. I've always wanted my personal information kept private and away from my opinions or stances. Maybe I get it from my somewhat paranoid father. Something that kept me from blogging for years was the understanding that people would know I had written it. I wished the work could stand or fall on its own merit, leaving me out of it entirely. Yet whenever I visited someone else's blog, one of my first clicks was the "about me" page. Maybe because I like hearing peoples' stories. It's unsatisfying to not know who you're talking to, or listening to. Like talking to a robot, which is completely different than talking to an actual person, even if the words used are similar.
Why did I want to keep myself private? I guess I wanted to avoid being prejudged. I know I can't control how others see me (much as I've always wished I could), but it seemed it would help if I could at least speak for myself before assumptions had been formed. I wished my intent to come across, like anyone would. Yet a person's intentions and inner self are always filtered through the material world, and something is usually lost in translation. Just as an artist's vision may be compromised on its path into the world, my intentions don't always translate into action. I'm prone to mistakes and even when I do my best, there's weather and accidents and other people to affect outcomes. There's something so vulnerable about putting yourself out there to be evaluated by others, perhaps dismissed before you even have a chance to prove yourself. But we all have to do it. A person can't opt out of being misunderstood. There's no healthy or reasonable way to hide yourself well enough. The good news is that you can learn to cut slack for misunderstandings, both yours and others. It's called grace, and so far it's much better than going into eternal hiding.
---
*Isn't that what we're all looking for in a friend or significant other? ;)
I'm surprised when I influence others because I am my influence, and from the inside looking out I don't see how it comes across. I am my biases, so I forget to factor my biases into my analyses. The overintellectual part of my mind forgets to be rooted in reality. Maybe I have a gnostic urge to rise "above," as though there's anything inherently preferable about the immaterial. But I can't disown my body; it's me. My mind can't be present in a room my body's not. Even Skype requires eyes and/or ears. Without my brain's actual gray matter, I couldn't carry the electricity that forms the intangible thoughts I prefer to identify with. It's kind of a mystery that I am not just a happy ghost, nor merely bone and meat, but inseparably all of the above and more.
For better or for worse, with people the medium is part of the message. On a simple level like, "if your relationships are garbage I'm not going to take advice from you," but also in a deeper and less logical sense. I've always wanted my personal information kept private and away from my opinions or stances. Maybe I get it from my somewhat paranoid father. Something that kept me from blogging for years was the understanding that people would know I had written it. I wished the work could stand or fall on its own merit, leaving me out of it entirely. Yet whenever I visited someone else's blog, one of my first clicks was the "about me" page. Maybe because I like hearing peoples' stories. It's unsatisfying to not know who you're talking to, or listening to. Like talking to a robot, which is completely different than talking to an actual person, even if the words used are similar.
Why did I want to keep myself private? I guess I wanted to avoid being prejudged. I know I can't control how others see me (much as I've always wished I could), but it seemed it would help if I could at least speak for myself before assumptions had been formed. I wished my intent to come across, like anyone would. Yet a person's intentions and inner self are always filtered through the material world, and something is usually lost in translation. Just as an artist's vision may be compromised on its path into the world, my intentions don't always translate into action. I'm prone to mistakes and even when I do my best, there's weather and accidents and other people to affect outcomes. There's something so vulnerable about putting yourself out there to be evaluated by others, perhaps dismissed before you even have a chance to prove yourself. But we all have to do it. A person can't opt out of being misunderstood. There's no healthy or reasonable way to hide yourself well enough. The good news is that you can learn to cut slack for misunderstandings, both yours and others. It's called grace, and so far it's much better than going into eternal hiding.
---
*Isn't that what we're all looking for in a friend or significant other? ;)
Tuesday, 9 August 2016
Finding Happiness Where You Least Expect It
I'm reading a book called Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. I love it when a body of scientific evidence confirms what I've experienced. In Gilbert's ideas, I also find help in wholeheartedly following Christ. Super brief summary of the book: we are terrible at predicting what will make us happy. People are very confident in their predictions, but usually dead wrong.
For example, people tend to think riches will make them happier. Yet often lottery winners report being no happier in the long run for their winnings, or sometimes being less happy, because the presence of the money has created social tension for them. Here are a few notable quotes from rich folks (found in a different book):
"The care of $200 million is enough to kill anyone. There is no pleasure in it." - W.H. Vanderbilt
"I am the most miserable man on earth." - J.J. Astor*
"I have made millions, but they have brought me no happiness." - John D. Rockefeller
"Millionaires seldom smile." - Andrew Carnegie
"I was happier when doing a mechanic's job." - Henry Ford
Gilbert lays out several reasons we're bad at accurately predicting our feelings. I'll focus on two: our tendency to 1) leave out plenty of important and relevant information while 2) supplying lots of speculation as fact without realizing we're doing it.
My mother used to say, "if you're not happy without it, you won't be happy with it." She was referring to the fact that buying a new laptop (to use an example from my high school days) or whatever doesn't change one's day-to-day life's happiness in the long run. She was right, but why? Gilbert explains that when I was imagining myself using the computer before I got it, I only saw myself sitting at it and messaging my friends all night. I completely left out the part about how I would still have the same basic attitude toward life, still have to go to school, do homework, and deal with all the other hassles of life. Basically I left out 90% of the factors that would determine my happiness, even in a world in which I had my very own laptop. But I had conjured up such a vivid mental image that I didn't think to realize anything was missing. The image-conjuring was fine; the fact that I expected the image to become reality, not so much.
In his book, Gilbert uses an example in which he invites the reader something like, "imagine you're going to have a spaghetti dinner tomorrow night." He points out you probably did not imagine an uncooked box of pasta sitting on the counter, but likely embellished with a plate beneath, sauce to top it and maybe even side dishes and your dining companions. But none of that embellishment is contained or necessarily implied in the term "spaghetti dinner." He said all the extra information is our "brain's best guess," and when asked, we tend to feel pretty confident in our embellishments, and those guesses are usually way off base. I immediately thought of how sometimes God's leading is just one word, or a phrase, and our brains do the magic of filling in the gap and then we're shocked when things didn't turn out at all how we'd expected. We may even feel duped, but God never overpromises and underdelivers. We'd do well to check our expectations against what He actually said.
One reason our brains are skilled at filling in gaps: each of our eyes has a blind spot where the optic nerve connects in the back. Instead of just having a gaping hole or two in our field of vision, the brain does that trick Photoshop can do and pulls info from the surrounding area to create a smooth, if partly false, view for our eyes. I think this is also how improv comedy is possible, both as a performer and an audience member. We don't go into panic mode when we're given so little to work with; we just let our brains do what they are great at: make tons of stuff up and fill in the gaps.
Another faith application: to those who don't know God well, He can seem like a monster for allowing bad things to happen to good people, because commonly accepted wisdom is that going through bad things will make you unhappy. But, unexpectedly, weathering trauma can actually make someone happier in the long run and many find they would not trade our bad experiences if they could. These quotes:
"I am so much better off physically, financially, mentally, and in almost every other way."
"It was a glorious experience."
"I didn't appreciate others nearly as much as I do now."
were spoken by three people who were, respectively, forced to resign from their job in disgrace, imprisoned unjustly for 37 years, and paralyzed from the neck down. Gilbert writes that this type of response is relatively common. Wait, what? And those millionaires were unhappy? If these things can be true, then we have all the more reason to trust a sovereign God who works all things together for good, even things that feel bad or were so not in our life plan. These things being true, we find our circumstances are no excuse not to joyfully worship Him. Maybe He really does have our best interests at heart, even if we aren't getting all our wishes fulfilled. Maybe He's setting us up for greater happiness and joy than we could imagine or plan for on our own.
---
*I had to look this guy up. According to Wikipedia, he was the richest man aboard the Titanic and died with a net worth of $87 million, which would be $2.13 billion by today's standards.
For example, people tend to think riches will make them happier. Yet often lottery winners report being no happier in the long run for their winnings, or sometimes being less happy, because the presence of the money has created social tension for them. Here are a few notable quotes from rich folks (found in a different book):
"The care of $200 million is enough to kill anyone. There is no pleasure in it." - W.H. Vanderbilt
"I am the most miserable man on earth." - J.J. Astor*
"I have made millions, but they have brought me no happiness." - John D. Rockefeller
"Millionaires seldom smile." - Andrew Carnegie
"I was happier when doing a mechanic's job." - Henry Ford
Gilbert lays out several reasons we're bad at accurately predicting our feelings. I'll focus on two: our tendency to 1) leave out plenty of important and relevant information while 2) supplying lots of speculation as fact without realizing we're doing it.
My mother used to say, "if you're not happy without it, you won't be happy with it." She was referring to the fact that buying a new laptop (to use an example from my high school days) or whatever doesn't change one's day-to-day life's happiness in the long run. She was right, but why? Gilbert explains that when I was imagining myself using the computer before I got it, I only saw myself sitting at it and messaging my friends all night. I completely left out the part about how I would still have the same basic attitude toward life, still have to go to school, do homework, and deal with all the other hassles of life. Basically I left out 90% of the factors that would determine my happiness, even in a world in which I had my very own laptop. But I had conjured up such a vivid mental image that I didn't think to realize anything was missing. The image-conjuring was fine; the fact that I expected the image to become reality, not so much.
In his book, Gilbert uses an example in which he invites the reader something like, "imagine you're going to have a spaghetti dinner tomorrow night." He points out you probably did not imagine an uncooked box of pasta sitting on the counter, but likely embellished with a plate beneath, sauce to top it and maybe even side dishes and your dining companions. But none of that embellishment is contained or necessarily implied in the term "spaghetti dinner." He said all the extra information is our "brain's best guess," and when asked, we tend to feel pretty confident in our embellishments, and those guesses are usually way off base. I immediately thought of how sometimes God's leading is just one word, or a phrase, and our brains do the magic of filling in the gap and then we're shocked when things didn't turn out at all how we'd expected. We may even feel duped, but God never overpromises and underdelivers. We'd do well to check our expectations against what He actually said.
One reason our brains are skilled at filling in gaps: each of our eyes has a blind spot where the optic nerve connects in the back. Instead of just having a gaping hole or two in our field of vision, the brain does that trick Photoshop can do and pulls info from the surrounding area to create a smooth, if partly false, view for our eyes. I think this is also how improv comedy is possible, both as a performer and an audience member. We don't go into panic mode when we're given so little to work with; we just let our brains do what they are great at: make tons of stuff up and fill in the gaps.
Another faith application: to those who don't know God well, He can seem like a monster for allowing bad things to happen to good people, because commonly accepted wisdom is that going through bad things will make you unhappy. But, unexpectedly, weathering trauma can actually make someone happier in the long run and many find they would not trade our bad experiences if they could. These quotes:
"I am so much better off physically, financially, mentally, and in almost every other way."
"It was a glorious experience."
"I didn't appreciate others nearly as much as I do now."
were spoken by three people who were, respectively, forced to resign from their job in disgrace, imprisoned unjustly for 37 years, and paralyzed from the neck down. Gilbert writes that this type of response is relatively common. Wait, what? And those millionaires were unhappy? If these things can be true, then we have all the more reason to trust a sovereign God who works all things together for good, even things that feel bad or were so not in our life plan. These things being true, we find our circumstances are no excuse not to joyfully worship Him. Maybe He really does have our best interests at heart, even if we aren't getting all our wishes fulfilled. Maybe He's setting us up for greater happiness and joy than we could imagine or plan for on our own.
---
*I had to look this guy up. According to Wikipedia, he was the richest man aboard the Titanic and died with a net worth of $87 million, which would be $2.13 billion by today's standards.
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