The day, as it where, is broken down into many different little pieces of time; some call these pieces seconds, minutes, and hours while others prefer to simply say today. In my mind, ‘today’ is far too broad and ‘hours and minutes’ seems to be a little too restrictive. I prefer and use dawn, morning, afternoon, late afternoon, evening, night, and bed to describe and schedule my day. I suppose, in a round about way, I could also describe the evolution of a lifetime in the same way. Dreams too. And experiments.
I do most of my living in the balanced part of the day; nothing extreme, rarely staying up when the schedule says bed and even more rarely getting up when the schedule says dawn. As such, dawn has become something of a mystery to me – I’m not sure exactly what it is and so I allow myself to imagine the bits and pieces of dawn.
Generally, the night belongs to punk roarak, mornings to breakfast and newspapers, day time belongs to noise and appointments, and evening belongs to Seinfeld and climbing. The cusp of day belongs to nobody except maybe seagulls, the pre-morning mist that mixes with the all ready over crowded farm air in Abbotsford, and that lazy one eyed cat who is on his eighth life.
Come to think of it, if Dawn was a person it would be felion-ified by that lazy one eyed cat emerging from under the hood of a volvo with only partial tail. Dawn, thankfully, is haggard and scruffy with not much biography left and even less biography to tell. Dawn speeds by before you know it; then you get up.
Most dreams and experiments are only pieces of Dawn. Then you get up.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Lao Tzu
Fighting is apart of hockey otherwise there wouldn’t be rules against it. The same is true with diving soccer players. In the same way, sin is apart of living otherwise there wouldn’t be rules against it.
Most often we can only ascribe value to something because of what is not there. For example, a water bottle is useful because it contains empty space. Doors, windows, the hole in the top of your socks, tunnel entrances, and straws are only useful because they are gaps in something.
Our eyes will be quick to judge beauty based on the absence of ugliness, significance in the absence of pithy, and life in the absence of death. The value, beauty, significance, and life of what is there lies in what is not there.
Most often we can only ascribe value to something because of what is not there. For example, a water bottle is useful because it contains empty space. Doors, windows, the hole in the top of your socks, tunnel entrances, and straws are only useful because they are gaps in something.
Our eyes will be quick to judge beauty based on the absence of ugliness, significance in the absence of pithy, and life in the absence of death. The value, beauty, significance, and life of what is there lies in what is not there.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Nacho!
Nacho! Nacho! Nacho! I’m cheering for you padre!
Jack Black and Napoleon Dynamite director Jared Hess team up and deliver the perfect movie to watch when its too hot outside and too cold inside; Nacho Libre. Funny stuff, though, not nearly as many good one liners to annoy everyone with….maybe just a few good Mexican accents to throw around while eating tortillas on a patio.
I’ll place a bet that youth pastors across the nation are going to use this movie in sermon illustrations until even they are sick of their perfect one liner jokes. My money is on the table.
Other then that, if you don’t like Jack Black (which there are many reasons not to), don’t like Napoleon Dynamite (again, many reasons not to), don’t like wrestling (no reason not to), and don’t like Mexican food (I’m sorry if you don’t), then you should probably still pay the $8 to go see the preview for “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” with Will Ferrell. I was embarrassed because I was laughing so hard!!
‘When you become a man you will wear tight stretchy pants in your bedroom by yourself for fun’
-Nacho.
Jack Black and Napoleon Dynamite director Jared Hess team up and deliver the perfect movie to watch when its too hot outside and too cold inside; Nacho Libre. Funny stuff, though, not nearly as many good one liners to annoy everyone with….maybe just a few good Mexican accents to throw around while eating tortillas on a patio.
I’ll place a bet that youth pastors across the nation are going to use this movie in sermon illustrations until even they are sick of their perfect one liner jokes. My money is on the table.
Other then that, if you don’t like Jack Black (which there are many reasons not to), don’t like Napoleon Dynamite (again, many reasons not to), don’t like wrestling (no reason not to), and don’t like Mexican food (I’m sorry if you don’t), then you should probably still pay the $8 to go see the preview for “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” with Will Ferrell. I was embarrassed because I was laughing so hard!!
‘When you become a man you will wear tight stretchy pants in your bedroom by yourself for fun’
-Nacho.
::trust
There are certain things that we trust and certain things that we do not trust. It seems, and maybe you have noticed, that the things we are inclined to trust are the things that we very much want to trust. For example, we very much want to trust airline pilots and the out of order sign on the pay parking meter. Nobody double checks to see if the machine is actually out of order; they are just happy to go with it and not pay.
However, when you have a flat tire in Hickville, CA and the tire place says, “closed” you still check all the doors, peer into all of the windows, and knock on the front, side, and back entrances. When all else has failed, you call the shop hoping that there might just possibly be someone inside to answer your desperate call for help. You very much do not want to trust the “closed” sign on the front door.
Isn’t it very interesting that we only trust what we want to trust? I think it is. I think that is why I so very much want to trust in a God who forgives and a grace that is…well…gracious. Because I need it.
However, when you have a flat tire in Hickville, CA and the tire place says, “closed” you still check all the doors, peer into all of the windows, and knock on the front, side, and back entrances. When all else has failed, you call the shop hoping that there might just possibly be someone inside to answer your desperate call for help. You very much do not want to trust the “closed” sign on the front door.
Isn’t it very interesting that we only trust what we want to trust? I think it is. I think that is why I so very much want to trust in a God who forgives and a grace that is…well…gracious. Because I need it.
Friday, June 23, 2006
A Subversive Story.
Today, marketing guru Seth Godin and downtown pastor Paul Moores, have each hit on one of the most fascinating aspects of the story of Jesus. The deep subversive and hard to see one. Read Seth’s post first and then read and leave your comments at Paul’s post.
It’s Friday night! Party down….
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It’s Friday night! Party down….
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Thursday, June 22, 2006
The Story of Science
I read stories and write about stories more then I am admitting to right now. I actually fear that I am becoming a bit of geek, in fact, I first realized this when I admitted that the smell of books is better then a lot of things.
Humans simply love to tell stories…it is somehow attached to our very nature. As long as, and no doubt before, there have been camp fires to sit around there have been stories to tell. The manipulating of fire, or, in other words, the advancement of science, has been instrumental in the continuing of these stories. Or maybe it is the other way around?
Without the storyteller science is useless. It is true that science deals with objective facts, observation, and controlled experiments, however, how this objective data is assembled involves a degree of imagination, i.e. theories. And what are theories? Theories are nothing more then stories hiding under another name.
If it wasn’t for story we would still be walking on all fours living in a cave and wondering about how to style our unibrows. Story is the advancement of humanity; I wonder what the correlation is to the individual story? Stories move you forward.
-e.d.
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Humans simply love to tell stories…it is somehow attached to our very nature. As long as, and no doubt before, there have been camp fires to sit around there have been stories to tell. The manipulating of fire, or, in other words, the advancement of science, has been instrumental in the continuing of these stories. Or maybe it is the other way around?
Without the storyteller science is useless. It is true that science deals with objective facts, observation, and controlled experiments, however, how this objective data is assembled involves a degree of imagination, i.e. theories. And what are theories? Theories are nothing more then stories hiding under another name.
If it wasn’t for story we would still be walking on all fours living in a cave and wondering about how to style our unibrows. Story is the advancement of humanity; I wonder what the correlation is to the individual story? Stories move you forward.
-e.d.
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Mindfreak
So today was summer solstice; and by today, I suppose I mean yesterday. A mid-summers day. The longest day of the year in the northern hemi-sphere. Among the four highest days of Wiccan sabbat in the entire year. I imagine there is a great party full of naked witches dancing in the Stonehenge as I type this. But we’ll not imagine that for too long.
Oddly enough, I don’t have to imagine too hard. Actually, if you replaced Stonehenge with beautiful sunset beach then I don’t really have to imagine at all. More realistically, it may be something I want to forget...
Anyhow, this all got me thinking about performer Criss Angel, and no, not Criss Angel naked. He is something isn’t he? I’ve been wanting to catch one of his TV shows for ages and finally got the chance to just this evening. Wow! His slight of hand and illusions are outstanding; absolutely mind boggling. And then I thought of the witches. Scary stuff.
witches + criss angel + stonehenge
Oddly enough, I don’t have to imagine too hard. Actually, if you replaced Stonehenge with beautiful sunset beach then I don’t really have to imagine at all. More realistically, it may be something I want to forget...
Anyhow, this all got me thinking about performer Criss Angel, and no, not Criss Angel naked. He is something isn’t he? I’ve been wanting to catch one of his TV shows for ages and finally got the chance to just this evening. Wow! His slight of hand and illusions are outstanding; absolutely mind boggling. And then I thought of the witches. Scary stuff.
witches + criss angel + stonehenge
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
The Story Inside
Each one of us harbor deep hidden and subversive stories that may never escape the confines of our minds. Tragic. Tragic that these stories are never shared, tragic that these lifetimes are capped, and tragic that they are tragic. Often times, these great and lasting stories never reveal themselves due to the simple fact that these stories have too many unanswered questions.
What will they think?
Will I be embarrassed?
Do I trust enough?
How grace giving is my community?
What does this story say about me?
Hidden stories are tragic because they are cowardly stories. Your own secrets breed conspiracy theories against yourself and against the people around you. How dare we inflict ourselves with this!
What will they think?
Will I be embarrassed?
Do I trust enough?
How grace giving is my community?
What does this story say about me?
Hidden stories are tragic because they are cowardly stories. Your own secrets breed conspiracy theories against yourself and against the people around you. How dare we inflict ourselves with this!
Monday, June 19, 2006
Here and Now.
“Live what you were meant to live!”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even a command. It was simply an irrefutable statement.
And so I wonder about my dreams; I wonder why my dreams are always free and the rest of the time I need a pay check. I wonder why dreams are always threaten by progress. I wonder if dreams are not so much a preferred picture of the future so much as they are an inspiring picture of the past. I wonder if dreams are destiny that went horribly wrong. I wonder if there is anything worse then being dead and still being alive to suffer it. I wonder if dreams are simply the distractions of the all important here and now. They might be.
There are some questions that are unanswerable; like, for example, “Why does everyone run towards a blood-curdling scream?” It is contrary to normal sense but mysteriously intuitive. Like Dreaming.
It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even a command. It was simply an irrefutable statement.
And so I wonder about my dreams; I wonder why my dreams are always free and the rest of the time I need a pay check. I wonder why dreams are always threaten by progress. I wonder if dreams are not so much a preferred picture of the future so much as they are an inspiring picture of the past. I wonder if dreams are destiny that went horribly wrong. I wonder if there is anything worse then being dead and still being alive to suffer it. I wonder if dreams are simply the distractions of the all important here and now. They might be.
There are some questions that are unanswerable; like, for example, “Why does everyone run towards a blood-curdling scream?” It is contrary to normal sense but mysteriously intuitive. Like Dreaming.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
New Noise.
Leave your name and:
1. I'll respond with something random about you
2. I'll challenge you to try something
3. I'll pick a color that I associate with you
4. I'll tell you something I like about you
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you
Thanks to my friend Carissa for this.
e.d.
1. I'll respond with something random about you
2. I'll challenge you to try something
3. I'll pick a color that I associate with you
4. I'll tell you something I like about you
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you
Thanks to my friend Carissa for this.
e.d.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Can You Remember a Noise if You Never Noticed it While it was a Noise?
Have you ever noticed that there are noises that you never hear until the noise stops? All of a sudden, this 'so obvious it's not obvious' sound stops being sound and it becomes a blaring silence; the kind of silence that is louder and more awkward then the noise ever could have been. It is a silent type of loudness that can disrupt a good sleep, make a great meal taste like mac and cheese, and a beautiful afternoon in the sun becomes only a moment while a week of rain feels like an eternity.
Have yo ever noticed that there are expectations that you never notice until the expectation stops? All of a sudden, this 'so obvious it's not obvious' expectation stops being noise and it becomes a blaring silence; the kind of silence that is louder and more awkward then the noise ever could have been. It is a silent type of loudness that can disrupt a good sleep, make a great meal taste like mac and cheese, and a beautiful afternoon in the sun becomes only a moment while a week of rain feels like an eternity.
Today is the end of expectation. Tomorrow is a different noise.
Have yo ever noticed that there are expectations that you never notice until the expectation stops? All of a sudden, this 'so obvious it's not obvious' expectation stops being noise and it becomes a blaring silence; the kind of silence that is louder and more awkward then the noise ever could have been. It is a silent type of loudness that can disrupt a good sleep, make a great meal taste like mac and cheese, and a beautiful afternoon in the sun becomes only a moment while a week of rain feels like an eternity.
Today is the end of expectation. Tomorrow is a different noise.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
I Find Myself Staring...
Ever since the dawn of time man has been looking for the very thing that Adam had; a beautiful naked woman who would help him. Any serious Bible scholar would notice that, with every round of creating, God just simply got better and better. This is why I think women were created last; the pinnacle and height of creation.
Unfortunately, like any good video game, each round of creating produced a slightly more complex system of atoms, molecules, and cells. Woman. The ying for man’s yang.
And this is why I think they drive me so crazy – they are operating at a whole other level of complexity. This is the level where guys, no matter how in touch they are with their feminine side, can not play……unless they break a few rules. And so, like any good video game, here are the cheats:
1. Remember that a foot massage always works.
Yes, there is only one.
Enjoy your evening.
- e.d.
Unfortunately, like any good video game, each round of creating produced a slightly more complex system of atoms, molecules, and cells. Woman. The ying for man’s yang.
And this is why I think they drive me so crazy – they are operating at a whole other level of complexity. This is the level where guys, no matter how in touch they are with their feminine side, can not play……unless they break a few rules. And so, like any good video game, here are the cheats:
1. Remember that a foot massage always works.
Yes, there is only one.
Enjoy your evening.
- e.d.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Give Yourself a Hug
Today was my quota for loving.*
In fact, if there had been any more loving the world might have gone crazy…a few days too late. I’m thankful that today’s love, like any well marketed revival, was scheduled, uniformed, entirely creative, and only mildly embarrassing. The actual love was scheduled until noon, however, by some slight of hand by someone wanting a bit more love, I was forced to love for an extra half of an hour. This, I feel strongly about, is not acceptable.
Thankfully, I can now resume my life.
*There are certain bits and pieces of writing that are consider to be in the genre of truth. This is not one of them. In fact, if truth be told, today seemed to be a particularly well executed bought of contrived love. Similar to that gold fish you bought that tarnished a few days later.
In fact, if there had been any more loving the world might have gone crazy…a few days too late. I’m thankful that today’s love, like any well marketed revival, was scheduled, uniformed, entirely creative, and only mildly embarrassing. The actual love was scheduled until noon, however, by some slight of hand by someone wanting a bit more love, I was forced to love for an extra half of an hour. This, I feel strongly about, is not acceptable.
Thankfully, I can now resume my life.
*There are certain bits and pieces of writing that are consider to be in the genre of truth. This is not one of them. In fact, if truth be told, today seemed to be a particularly well executed bought of contrived love. Similar to that gold fish you bought that tarnished a few days later.
Friday, June 09, 2006
W is for Witch
Boredom is about as fun as living inside a black cat. My whole life has been charred by the ugly stains of Boredom who, much like an inefficient assassin, has been taking erratic stabs at who I am. It actually isn’t really a fun place to live. Of course, its Boring.
I’ve heard it said that the difference between the demi-gods Genius and Insanity is a thin line; the problem is that nobody really knows what that line is. I would suggest that the line has something do with IV lines, extended hospital visits, and padded rooms. People have very strange ideas of Genius; high IQ, inventive, and quirky, however, what most people fail to realize is that the most Genius thing that a Genius can do is not end up with IV lines, extended hospital visits, and padded rooms.
The cracked and wild toothy grin of Boredom and her coven enjoy manipulating Her lines of engagement. She knows that the right mixture of circumstance, success, failure, isolation, community, and premonition can either drive the afflicted into a dull Insanity or lucid Creativity. It seems, though, that Her lines are much more transparent and harder to define then Genius’…they simply exist for the function of saying that they are, in fact, there. A type of small god protocol. Unfortunately, my current present lives with the bitter aftertaste of a shackled Creativity.
I’ve heard it said that the difference between the demi-gods Genius and Insanity is a thin line; the problem is that nobody really knows what that line is. I would suggest that the line has something do with IV lines, extended hospital visits, and padded rooms. People have very strange ideas of Genius; high IQ, inventive, and quirky, however, what most people fail to realize is that the most Genius thing that a Genius can do is not end up with IV lines, extended hospital visits, and padded rooms.
The cracked and wild toothy grin of Boredom and her coven enjoy manipulating Her lines of engagement. She knows that the right mixture of circumstance, success, failure, isolation, community, and premonition can either drive the afflicted into a dull Insanity or lucid Creativity. It seems, though, that Her lines are much more transparent and harder to define then Genius’…they simply exist for the function of saying that they are, in fact, there. A type of small god protocol. Unfortunately, my current present lives with the bitter aftertaste of a shackled Creativity.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Anyone want to watch Fight Club with me?
There are items of life that are deeper paradox's then we care to admit. For example, the sporting event of sporting events, the Olympics, encourages one of the most ridiculous sports known to man and is only participated in by woman. A 'sport' that values bobby pins, make up, nail polish, sparkles, and speedo's is bound to be named something that simply doesn't make any sense: solo synchronized swimming.
Does anyone else see the glaring irony of this? Honestly. What are these girls synchronizing too? What is the line between some crazy woman splashing around in a pool by herself and some painted solo synchronized swimmer? These girls are in synch........but to what? The music? Ok, maybe. But then how come dashboard drumming in traffic doesn't earn the me gold medals?
There are enough bits of tension in life that we have given these tensions a name: a paradox. The life of paradox is much like the life of absurdity except that it is its opposite. Imagine a piece of toast actually landing right side up. Now because laws of absurdity dictate that it should land upside down, the fact that it landed right side up presents a problem, a paradox. If you will.
I realized that I am actually having temporary trouble with the nature of reality, or, if I could phrase it differently, I am urgently grasping at the same reality that a Brad Pitt cardboard cut-out is. How could two seemingly contradictory things be equally true? Wouldn't it be nice if reality related to everything? A paradox. If you will.
Does anyone else see the glaring irony of this? Honestly. What are these girls synchronizing too? What is the line between some crazy woman splashing around in a pool by herself and some painted solo synchronized swimmer? These girls are in synch........but to what? The music? Ok, maybe. But then how come dashboard drumming in traffic doesn't earn the me gold medals?
There are enough bits of tension in life that we have given these tensions a name: a paradox. The life of paradox is much like the life of absurdity except that it is its opposite. Imagine a piece of toast actually landing right side up. Now because laws of absurdity dictate that it should land upside down, the fact that it landed right side up presents a problem, a paradox. If you will.
I realized that I am actually having temporary trouble with the nature of reality, or, if I could phrase it differently, I am urgently grasping at the same reality that a Brad Pitt cardboard cut-out is. How could two seemingly contradictory things be equally true? Wouldn't it be nice if reality related to everything? A paradox. If you will.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
6/6/06
Well, it turns out that the world can breathe a collective sigh of relief; though, yesterday was a beautiful day for an apocalypse. More importantly, if you are a hexakosioihexekontahexaphobiac, you should be able to return to your regular sleep patterns.
For anyone who bet on the 10:1 odds that the world would end at gambling website betUS.com you are pretty lucky you didn't win. I mean seriously, if you had won and the world did end yesterday....how would you have collected your winnings? Gee.
Scary.
For anyone who bet on the 10:1 odds that the world would end at gambling website betUS.com you are pretty lucky you didn't win. I mean seriously, if you had won and the world did end yesterday....how would you have collected your winnings? Gee.
Scary.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Laws of Absurdity
My pen yelled at me last night. 'Bloody murder!" it screamed.
Not sure you've heard a pen scream before, but if you have, you know that it's not as much fun as juggling burning coals. Dark inky blotches of anger somehow always find there way onto anything white, valuable, or dry-cleanable only. Imagine your freshly peanut buttered toast landing right side up. That's a hard thing to imagine because it doesn't happen. Imagine your friends camera only taking really great photos of you at last nights little shin-digg. Again, it doesn't happen. Try and strentch your mind to believe that, while traveling, everytime your significant other needs a 'rest stop' a rest area with free coffee appears. It doesn't, in fact, you probably just passed one. There are certain laws that can not be broken; ink screaming at clothing is one of them.
Can you imagine if God was a women?
"Ok, thanks for sending me to hell...but why would you do that?"
"Well if you don't know I guess you'll have the rest of eternity to figure it out!"
Like as if us guys needed anymore confusion! Seriously. If we could just find a loop hole in all of these laws of absurdity the human race would be so much better off. For now, I will try and put my pen back together.
Not sure you've heard a pen scream before, but if you have, you know that it's not as much fun as juggling burning coals. Dark inky blotches of anger somehow always find there way onto anything white, valuable, or dry-cleanable only. Imagine your freshly peanut buttered toast landing right side up. That's a hard thing to imagine because it doesn't happen. Imagine your friends camera only taking really great photos of you at last nights little shin-digg. Again, it doesn't happen. Try and strentch your mind to believe that, while traveling, everytime your significant other needs a 'rest stop' a rest area with free coffee appears. It doesn't, in fact, you probably just passed one. There are certain laws that can not be broken; ink screaming at clothing is one of them.
Can you imagine if God was a women?
"Ok, thanks for sending me to hell...but why would you do that?"
"Well if you don't know I guess you'll have the rest of eternity to figure it out!"
Like as if us guys needed anymore confusion! Seriously. If we could just find a loop hole in all of these laws of absurdity the human race would be so much better off. For now, I will try and put my pen back together.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
It's official: we need a recount.
If there are masks to be worn I suppose they should be worn. If there are covers to be pulled over my head at night then I suppose I should cover myself. If there is such thing as redemption then I suppose I should be redeemed. If there is justice I should be held accountable. If there is grace I could use it. If there is friendship then I suppose I would like a friend. If there is agony I suppose there should be relief. If there is strength in numbers then I suppose I shouldn't be alone. If there is more to life then I suppose I might want to discover it. If there is danger then I will live dangerously. If there is peace then I suppose I will be ok. If there was hope I would be hopeful.
I wonder how often most people just barely scrape by? Barely existing? I wonder how many people find strength believing they are following a guide and never understand that the guide was blind? I imagine most people to live between the shrinking margins of lust and gratification; people who live between the the buffet tables of hope and rejection, love and hate, being fed and going hungry.
Most people want to be known for something spectacular. I've never known anyone who wants to be mediocre. I would like to introduce myself as a someone who wants to be nothing more then somewhere in the middle; a mediocre fence sitting blend-in-with-a-wall kind of person. Greatness is not my intention and neither is worthlessness. I will prefer mediocrity.
-e.d.
I wonder how often most people just barely scrape by? Barely existing? I wonder how many people find strength believing they are following a guide and never understand that the guide was blind? I imagine most people to live between the shrinking margins of lust and gratification; people who live between the the buffet tables of hope and rejection, love and hate, being fed and going hungry.
Most people want to be known for something spectacular. I've never known anyone who wants to be mediocre. I would like to introduce myself as a someone who wants to be nothing more then somewhere in the middle; a mediocre fence sitting blend-in-with-a-wall kind of person. Greatness is not my intention and neither is worthlessness. I will prefer mediocrity.
-e.d.
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