I am currently reading “The Irresistible Revolution – Living as an ordinary radical” by Shane Claiborne. Blue Like Jazz and Velvet Elvis etc are like the PG13 versions – this book is definitely R-Rated Christianity (so to speak, you know what I mean).
I have been avoiding blogging about this book because frankly, I don’t know where to start. Every page is blog-worthy. Furthermore, the content of the book is making me deal with my own Christianity to the point where I do not feel in a position to write about what is going through my head, or my heart. I say that I have to deal with my “Christianity” for the simple reason that it's not my faith that I am struggling with, but the manifestation of that faith, what I’ve been convinced is the normal and right way to act out what I believe, what I can and can’t take notice of and just exactly what is the socially and morally acceptable distance to maintain from the outworking of the love that Jesus has given us (I say this tongue in cheek, of course - the distance should be very short if not negligible!).
So Shane Claiborne wrote this book. It’s a damn good book. It is very challenging, I’ll say it again, very challenging, for a person like me. I grew up a pure-bred; a pastor’s kid who was loved and fed both physically and spiritually in a loving family environment. I have never been underprivileged in any way. Things were never handed to me, but through hard work I know will be able to provide for my wife and family without too much care. We give of our income both inside and outside the church. You’d think that’d get you off the hook when it comes to all those bits in the Bible where Jesus says to give to the poor etc. Shane is beating that mindset out of my thick skull page by page. It’s very uncomfortable for two reasons: 1. It means I have to do something about the inequality around me, and 2. It took a book other than the Bible for me to realize some fairly important stuff about what I believe in.
Shane is young and smart, very smart. Kind of one of those guys you know would have an answer in any debate, because he’s lived it and come to those conclusions himself. He knows the Bible and has put a lot of it into action. He’s worked with Mother Theresa (or Momma T as he calls her), we went to Baghdad when the US were bombing it to bits to be with the Christians there and do church with them, he spends a lot of time living on the streets with the homeless just to love them. He doesn’t have a job but lives in a run down community in the toughest neighborhood in Philadelphia, a community where almost every person is below the poverty line, but they live together and do church together every day, as a lifestyle. The teach each others children, pool their money to meet each others needs, take care of and pray for each other, as a lifestyle. Not as a weekly church meeting, but as a daily personal and corporate mission. He does all of this because he is in search of a real Christian, and that search begins with himself. And the whole crux of the book comes down to three quotes that he uses. The first two are:
“We can not do great things, just small things with great love. It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it” – Mother Theresa.
“Ask the poor, they will tell you who the Christians are” – Gandhi.
The third quote is so significant it needs its own entry on this website, and that’s what is posted in the entry below this one (the one with the Rage bit). Its this last quote which has inspired me the most. I have had a heavy heart when reading this book. I get upset inside about what’s happening to this world, about the materialistic call of the west, the inequality, and a whole bunch of other stuff. The problem is that the upset part is inside, not outside. This book is poking me very hard and relentlessly about doing something. What – I have absolutely no idea. But I think it all boils down to Momma-T’s little quote up there. Choosing to make a difference in every decision I make, the way I react to people, what I do with my money etc etc.
The US Coast Guard has the motto “So That Others May Live”. It’s very noble. They carry out every minute of their working day with this motto in mind (or so the movie “The Guardian” would have you believe). Funny thing, I’m a little scared that as Christians we are (I am) not even close to this realization. What’s my motto? What’s the church’s motto? What’s the motto for my marriage? It's all stuff that’s been poking me very hard.
Anyway. This topic is a can of worms and I have very few answers or even angles from which to debate. I am not trying to form any type of conclusion here; my thinking is far too premature for that. But I guess I’m starting to think about the change in the world that could take place with a little imagination, thanks to Shane, and I think that with the forum of readers that this website draws, the outworking of such change would be very effective for the Kingdom, and a lot of fun. Don’t read Shane’s book if you want to stay comfortable. If you’re not fond of change then I’d suggest you leave it on the shelf in Koorong (or Amazon). But in reading this I think that it should be in the hands of every Christian in the west. I say the west because after reading what Shane says about the Christians in the eastern nations, it’s definitely us who have our sock on the wrong shoe. I’ll leave it at that. Buy the book.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Talking 'bout a revolution
Rage Against The....
What therefore is our task today? Shall I answer: “faith, hope and love”? That sounds beautiful, but I would say – courage. No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth.
Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack today is not psychology or literature, we lack a holy rage, the recklessness that comes from a knowledge of God and humanity. The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the street, and when the lie rages across the face of the earth. A holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world. To rage against the ravaging of God’s earth, and the destruction of God’s world. To rage when little children die of hunger while the tables of the rich are sagging with food. To rage at the senseless killing of so many and against the madness of militaries. To rage at the lie that calls the threat of death and the strategy of destruction “peace”. To rage against complacency, to restlessly seek that recklessness that will challenge and seek to change human history until is conforms to the norms of the Kingdom of God.
Prayer of Kaj Munk, Danish pastor before he was killed by the Gestapo, January, 1944.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Caffeinated words
I'm working on a design project for a coffee client at the moment and have unearthed a few piquant coffee quotes along the way (and conjured a few of my own). If you've got some grist for the mill, feel free to pony up! There's a coffee in it.
Here's a tidy little fella to ponder:As soon as coffee is in your stomach, there is a general commotion. Ideas begin to move...similes arise, the paper is covered. Coffee is your ally and writing ceases to be a struggle. (Honore de Balzac)
And here's another good'un:I never drink coffee at lunch—I find it keeps me up all afternoon (Ronald Reagan)
Calling ye bibliophiles
So, uhh, like... what are you reading?
Garrick made a comment about wanting the down low on books before investing considerable energy in reading them––and the opportunity cost of an alternative selection otherwise foregone. I figured it'd be a good time to take a snapshot of what the Cacophonites are reading right now. So:
• what are you reading?
• give us your take on its merits (but don't spoil it)
• who do you think would dig it?
What I want read at my funeral
Do you know the first name of your great-great-grandfather? I don’t. And he was still alive only 80 years ago. Which means that unless we invent something incredibly useful or do something particularly noteworthy, about 80 years after we die, probably sooner, no-one will know our names, let alone what music we hated, what political party we voted for and who we loved.
Psalm 103 backs this up: “As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and its place remembers it no more”.
For some people, death is simply where life ends. Life is a brilliant burst of light, a bright spark, and then darkness. Yesterday at my grandpa’s funeral, the celebrant read out something about Pop being in eternal rest and peace so we should remember him fondly and cherish the memories. I can partly understand how the idea of being extinguished could be comforting, especially to someone who had watched their partner suffer from the effects of cancer. But don’t we long for something more lasting, more meaningful? Like Nan said with tears in her eyes last Friday, the day Pop died, her 60 years with him wasn’t long enough — twice as long wouldn’t have been enough.
At Pop’s funeral we heard a brief record of 83 years lived. There is no doubt he was a faithful husband, loving father and devoted grandfather. The reality is that in 80 years, the life of Morris Lionel Green will be forgotten. His casket was lowered into the ground (although I heard my Nan suggest it should rise upwards) and we filed past with tears in our eyes. Thirty minutes later, a fresh group of mourners met in the same spot to mourn the loss of another person.
At my funeral, I don’t want a fluffy poem about memories. I think I’ll have Psalm 103, because we might have been formed from dust and will one day return to dust, but this is not where it ends — “From everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him”.
“Praise the Lord ... who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion.”
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Comic Sans will give you cancer
Yeah, probably not actually. But maybe... Anyway, I found these articles on Slate about the fonts people write in, and it got me thinking...
I wrote my honours thesis in Garamond; it seemed an appropriate choice for a work of architectural history. Not particularly easy to read (because architects don’t believe in comfort), pretentiously attractive (because architects believe in that sort of sexy above most everything) and slightly unexpected (because the only thing that trumps ‘sexy’ is ‘individual’ – as long as it wears head-to-toe black like all the other individuals). I love architects, really I do…
I’m back at uni now, hanging with the baby lawyers, and I still use Garamond. These days, it’s about being a mature-ager with history and associations, visually separating myself from the Times-and-Arial infants. Although you can tell they’ve grown up with this stuff; the fortnightly faculty gossip sheet credits a Layout and Design Officer
Work is all Arial, with Trebuchet headings. It reads as code for ‘trust us, we’re from the (naffly hip, and therefore trustworthy) government’. Like we’re Tony Blair, Triangulating The Third Way. Personally, I’d like to see something with a serif so I could pretend working for the executive branch was just like The West Wing, but I think WA's Sunny Frontier mentality singes the serifs off…
Anyway, my question is: what do you use, and why?
Premature celebration
You were running a good race. Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth?
Well, actually mate, you did it all on your own.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Don't you know who I am?!
My friend Justine told me a story yesterday about the most irate customer she'd ever had to deal with. She was working with a large national furniture company (known for their liberation) while the customer was the figurehead of a prominent wine company (two names, '&' in the middle). In the course of an animated discussion that followed some goods being damaged through the rough handling of the customers' courier company, the customer, demanding a replacement, began to explode down the phone: 'Don't you know who I am?'.
On and on, louder and louder...'Don't you know who I am?'...'Don't you know who I am?'. Aside from being rude and obnoxious, I was tickled that someone actually used the phrase seriously. I've heard people use it in jest, never legit.
It got me thinking: How often do we, by our words and actions (or maybe our thoughts), exclaim at some level: 'Don't you know who I am?'.
How often does someone wrong us, or treat us differently to how we feel we deserve, or ignore our needs and we respond somewhere inside, 'Don't you know who I am?'
We all crave justice—particularly for ourselves. Perhaps we all crave a level of recognition too. We want to be treated consistent with 'our station'...whatever that is. And when we're not, we feel wronged in some way.
And then there's Jesus...Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross!
Jesus, who had every right to demand authority, every right to assert dominion and every right to reign and rule, asserted none of these things. Paul tells us here in Philippians that he actually does the complete opposite...he becomes a servant. Interestingly, given that he was 'in very nature God', he was all these things all the same. Yet he had no need to assert authority—it was recognised in Him.
Isaiah tells us that: He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. And yet the lamb to the slaughter is also the Lion of Judah. Only Jesus makes sense of this kind of tautology by modeling it. Mark writes Him saying: 'If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and the servant of all'.
But...Don't you know who I am?
We discover that, for Jesus, the answer was absolute: Yes.
Jesus revealed to us what the Kingdom of God looks like in contrast to what often prevails on earth. His ministry was chiefly about this revelation and become the means by which we are restored to God. That restoration is, in large part, a growing understanding of the economy of the Kingdom of God as opposed to what we've commonly experienced. And the two are a whole lot different.
I guess the bigger question is: 'Don't you know who He is?'
As we discover who Jesus is, we discover all we are because of Him. We also discover who we're not. As Luke wrote in Acts: 'It's in Him we live and move and have our being'. Paul wrote to the Ephesians: 'It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we're living for'. I don't think we get this once and are done with it. Discovering who He is a continual process. A journey, a wrestle, and in a completely tautological fashion, as we lay down our lives we discover what it means to be human. Better still, part of a new humanity.
Conversations like this could (and often do) go on forever. This one is going to stop in blog form real soon. But not without action. The laying down of our agendas to follow him is active after all. Paul's all about action in Philippians:Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus...
Do you know who you are?
Friday, May 25, 2007
Are you an appendage?
Pretty sure I am.
Kevin Rudd's not though. Neither is his wife.
Rudd revealed his sensitive side yesterday, telling Australia he believes women have the right to be independent beings, not just appendages to "middle-aged men".
In the process of dropping the 'A' word a whole lot of people got pretty excited.
Thoughts?
Who do you belong to?
Football fans will need scant introduction to Kaka, a Brazillian playing for AC Milan who played a big part in getting his side across the line in the UEFA Champions League final last night against Liverpool. His real name is Ricardo Izecson Santos but Ricardo's little brother couldn't bash out that complicated name and went with Kaka. It stuck.
I opened my Australian this morning to Kaka celebrating AC Milan's win. It's easy to pay out on bumper stickers and anything that makes you squirm...but my hat's off to this guy.
For starters, he's a tidy football player.
And he features a tidy version of Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah' that I don't think I've heard before on his website (well, one of his plethora of websites).
Then there's the way he celebrates a goal. From another website: Kaka is a nice guy, very religious, very family man. You can see that he points his fingers to the sky when he scores a goal. He does that to thank Jesus for healing him from a very serious injury that could have ended his football career.
Here's Kaka (I keep wanting to type Kafka, but I'm hanging in there) celebrating last night's win:
And the gear:
Now, I don't know Kaka beyond some websites, a newspaper, the occasional football match and AAP Reuters, but I'd love to hear what a t-shirt like this triggers in you. Spacious?
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Only bad things happen quickly (ceteris paribus)
I'm (occasionally) reading through a book Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart - 30 true things you need to know now. It's an eloquent and incisive read but, at the end of the day, it probably fits most neatly in the 'pop-psychology' genre. I'm ever learning though: truth can be found in a multitude of places. It's available to everyone. And it points us to God.
In a society based on consumption, instant gratification's easy to spot. We crave instant results. We want to drop 10kg in the first week of our diet. We want to run 10km without training (and without blisters). We want to experience intimacy without investing time.
A friend told me recently of the number of people standing in line for Australian Idol who proudly boasted they'd never had a singing lesson, yet couldn't sing to save themselves either. We don't want reward for effort; we want a manifold return for simply showing up.
Gordon Livingstone, the author of the book I mentioned earlier, reflects this thought:Somewhere along the line we became an impatient people, expecting quick answers to our difficulties...
The process of building has always been slower and more complicated than that of destruction. Wisdom is gifted over time. Love grows richer over time. Investments mature over time. Fitness accrues one step at a time. Degrees are acquired through study over time.
While epiphanies, miracles and supernatural interventions are a reality for the People of God, the greater part of our journey is a steady walk—the glad ox as my friend Brad puts it. One foot in front of the other. A deep furrow of wholeness, discipline, love and community.
While the initial reorientation prompted by repentance may be a radical change, it is honed by degrees. One foot in front of the other.
We crave the miracle relationship and the serendipitous chance meeting with our soon-to-be-lifetime-soulmate. And granted, these moments happen. Thank God. Yet there is still a journey of soulcraft that invariably precipitates that glittering moment. A steady refining of the character that makes union a possibility. A refining that leads to people finding joy in each other and in God that didn't come cheaply or without change.
Eugene Peterson, in Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places, writes sweetly:We are here to be formed over our lifetimes into a community of the beloved, God's beloved who are being formed into a people who love God and one another in the way and on the terms in which God loves us. It's slow work. We are slow learners. And though God is unendingly patient with us, we are not very patient with ourselves or one another.
Our transformation is daily and requires what Petersen articulates Paul's word to the church at Rome as passionate patience. Passionate patience is not grim or masochistic—it's laden with hope and expectation. It's not a come-back-in-a-year-and-see-what-happened kind of patience; it's the watchman waiting, it's the lighthouse keeper monitoring every movement to see what might happen next. And it's active. Passion is active. There's work to be done in the waiting and in the walking...and we're not shy about that work.
And just because the journey of goodness is gradual, it doesn't mean it's boring. It's good. Both in the moment and along the way. It can be a wild ride of gradual goodness. And increasingly good. Albeit with excursions and tangents, excuses and sidestreets, but also with a rich, evolving, integrated story.
The prophet Habukkuk wrote:Write this. Write what you see. Write it out in big block letters so that it can be read on the run. This vision-message is a witness pointing to what's coming. It aches for the coming—it can hardly wait! And it doesn't lie. If it seems slow in coming, wait. It's on its way. It will come right on time.
Bad things tend to happen quickly. Good things take time. Take your time.
The New Yorker and a design classic
While the New Yorker is a classic in itself, I received an email today from one of my favourite stores, Remo, promoting a t-shirt design featuring one of the New Yorkers all-time classic covers. So, complete with working drawings, photos of the creators as well as the final artwork, here's the story behind it. I'll hand it over to Remo from here:
New Yorkistan is an original design that became the cover art for the 10 December 2001 edition of The New Yorker magazine. It was created by longtime REMO friend Maira Kalman in collaboration with new friend, illustrator Rick Meyerowitz, and is, according to the American Society of Magazine Editors, #14 on the list of the top 40 magazine covers of the past 40 years.
The design depicts the boroughs of New York City, as well as individual neighborhoods within the city, giving each a name a "funny mixture of Yiddish, Farsi, and New Yorkisms" based on the history or geography of that area of the city: Lubavistan, Kvetchnya, Irate, Irant, Mooshuhadeen, Schmattahadeen, Yhanks, Feh, Fattushis, Fuhgeddabouditstan, Hiphopabad, Bad, Veryverybad, Khakis and Kharkeez (in Connecticut), and so on ...
The response to New Yorkistan was overwhelming. The magazine disappeared from newsstands in two days, becoming the best selling issue of The New Yorker in history.
Some Background: By early November 2001 the people of New York had settled into a deep funk. The ramifications of September 11 had set in and the war against the Taliban had begun in Afghanistan. "When their cover came out, suddenly a dark cloud seemed to lift" ... according to a glowing piece by Sarah Boxer in the 8 December edition of the New York Times. She went on:
"New Yorkers were mad for the map. They laughed. They shared it. They recited their favorite joke names on the map, making sure you had the proper Yiddish: the name Gribines (for the Hudson River) means chicken cracklings. They checked out your cultural knowledge: Blahniks (the Upper East Side) is where everyone can afford Manolo Blahnik shoes. What? You don't understand. Youdontunderstandistan? You should be banished to Outer Perturbia (somewhere on Long Island). Perhaps not since Steinberg's drawing had New Yorkers pored over a magazine cover so long. Of course, the maps are totally different. Steinberg's is a delicate drawing done in perfect perspective, with fully realized cars and little witty dotted lines separating Canada from Chicago and Mexico from Washington. The drawing by Ms. Kalman and Mr. Meyerowitz is flat and naïve. Aside from a funny perplexed camel standing in the middle of Stan (Staten Island), the humor is all verbal."
According to Maira, the inspiration for the cover arose in a car on the way to a party. She and Rick were talking about tribalism. At one point she came up with the idea of "Bronxistan", to which Rick replied "You know, we've got a map here." Originally, the picture was to be run on the back page of the magazine, but editors liked it so much that it was decided to make it the cover picture. (Indeed, you'll note, if you look carefully, that the original art been stretched to fit the full height proportion of the magazine.)
The napkin of an idea...
The development of a napkin...
The coloured-in version
The creators...
The final illustration:
The way the public saw it on the newstands:
Running for Enlightenment?
So a few of us got together—Johnson in Accounting, Jenkins in Dispatch and a couple of the guys in Sales—and we've devised a little test for you to join our club.
It's going to take you about 7 years but here's what we're thinking: run 40km per day for 100 consecutive days in the each year for 3 years, then up it to 40km per day for 200 consecutive days in years 4 and 5, in the 6th year run 60km per day for 100 consecutive days and cap it off with 84km each day for 100 consecutive days in year 7.
Too easy?
Well, if the thought of 900 marathons over 7 years doesn't fatigue you at all, then perhaps you wouldn't mind doing them in straw sandals, on a light vegetarian diet, while carrying books and reciting a mantra?
Meet the Buddhist Tendai Marathon Monks who seek to attain enlightenment through running, alot. Since 1885, only 46 have completed the 1,000 day spiritual challenge.
Is there anything we can learn from the marathon monks?
Packaging by Prime Numbers
This post has very little intelligence associated with it at all, but seeks to raise a senseless question or two.
So the deal is we're in the US and we buy some gum. Wrigleys doublemint sticks to be exact. It was a jumbo pack which I thought was a great idea as it would go the distance. But here's the thing: I've been chewing on this stuff daily for over two weeks now, offering it to friends etc. It occurred to me today, as I extracted yet another stick from the package: just how long is this thing going to last? Have I actually purchased the 5 loaves and 2 fish equivalent of chewing gum?
Closer inspection of the packaging reveals that the jumbo pack holds 17 sticks of gum. 17; a prime number, not divisible by anything but itself. Why create a pack of 17? You cannot distribute such a package evenly with anyone but yourself, it's not that conducive to sharing unless it's with 17 people but I've yet to be able to organise a gum chewing event with more than 4 people. So who in the world decided 17 was a good number for chewing gum?
I can understand packaging in other primes, e.g. 1, 2, 3, 5 all make sense. God was fairly big on multiples of 7. 11 is fairly odd, but we all understand the logic behind a bakers dozen of 13. You don't tend to see primes much higher than this though, not often you buy a 29 pack of anything, of 53 for that matter unless you strike it lucky in a box of matches, or are fortunate enough to get that little bit extra value out of a roll of 100 sheets of toilet paper. (By the way, a family from my church in NZ once appeared on NZ's Fair Go program, a slightly more legal equivalent to Today Tonight, because in a night of outrageous family bonding they'd counted every sheet in a 12-pack of 100-sheet rolls of toilet paper and found that none of them added up to 100 per roll. As a result they winded up with a years supply of the stuff; not conducive to popularity in the school playground but a great way to save on the grocery bill).
So this entry has no point, but if you can come up with a spiritual, theological, or simply logical reason for 17 sticks of gum, then I'm all ears.
Monday, May 21, 2007
In praise of mediated texts
There are plenty of reasons why Simon and Fi’s ‘One Day in July’ holds the top spot on my Weddings-O-Friends Leaderboard and one of them is a cd. Seventeen songs attended my way on the drive to New Norcia last year, and they’ve attended most of the social events held at the Bessell Vessel since then too. As a cd, it’s a perfect mix of sweet songs and true songs and songs by Michael Jackson and it plays beautifully when driving or drinking coffee. But I don’t love it for the songs; I love it for what it tells me about Simon and Fi and the plans they had for that day.
A High Fidelity friend put together some cds for my birthday, and by the third time through, I realized that I actually have a thing for mixes. When I buy a cd, it takes ages to get beyond the assessment stage – do I like it, should I have spent the money, am I going to end up stashing the darn thing with the other embarrassing mistakes, Gwen…? But the HFF has pretty reliable (if firm) views on the tunes, so I came to it expecting good stuff – and there it was. Sure, there were surprises. And some stuff I can only shake my head at. Still, the whole thing feels like a meandering, generous, disputative conversation, and I like it.
It got me thinking: there are actually lots of things that I like better when they’re mediated through someone with a point of view. Thus: Nick Hornby published a collection of columns he wrote about books he’d bought and books he’d read, and it was officially the best thing that happened to me last summer. It helps that Nick can reliably elicit a chuckle and a half per page, but I felt like I’d read all the good bits, and skated lightly over the stodgy bits of the things he’d read. It was like getting dessert without having to eat my veggies, and given that the proportion of carrots to carrot cake in my reading diet is getting really out of hand, that was a Very Good Thing.
I haven’t had a tv for a while now, and I don’t miss it, mostly because I experience secondhand programming through televisionwithoutpity.com; it’s a case of secondhand being very definitely not second best. So, for example, I don’t care at all about American Idol – I don’t even care about Australian Idol – but host-of Ryan Seacrest as a cross between Frankenstein’s monster and Dorian Gray? Heh… Who’da thought a karaoke competition habitually won by outfits rather than singers could work better without sound or visuals?
Oh yeah. Remember the slow bits in Spiderman 3? (Which ones, you say? All of ‘em.) Now imagine sitting through them with the phrase ‘Evil Space Licorice’ running through your head. Way better, right? OK, I rarely go into a movie without being able to give a pretty good précis of the major plot points. But I’m happy to give up being surprised in favour of being able to greet Spidey’s nemesis like an old friend. Dana and David come to the movies with me and they're good people to hang with.
It would be nice to have a point to make here. Maybe something about experiencing God through other people? The importance of both creation and interpretation? How 'bout: I'll bake for mixtapes!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
New Norcia Reflections: Confession
I read through a book today titled 'Confessions of a Pastor' by Craig Groeschel. Perhaps inspired by one of the 100 things you should do in your life post (Read through a book in one sitting) or, more likely, because I simply had the opportunity.
Groeschel, Senior Pastor at LifeChurch, comes clean about a bunch of stuff. The sub-title, 'Adventures in dropping the pose and getting real with God' gives you some idea where the book heads. In 10 chapters he confesses to plenty with chapters like: I Can't Stand a Lot of Christians; I Have to Work Hard to Stay Sexually Pure; Most of the Time I Feel Incredibly Lonely; I Hate Prayer Meetings; I Stink at Handling Criticism and I'm Afraid of Failure.
It's well worth a read. And it got me thinking. I write from New Norcia Benedictine Community - a community where confession is fundamental to spiritual wholeness. It's not a 'hang it out there' kind of confession that's broadcasted on your local Christian TV channel, but it's a 'deal with it and move forward' kind of confession.
Confession and repentance go hand in hand. Often they work together or are the catalyst for one another. Confession is only purposeful in concert with repentance (I'll have to have a think as to whether I agree with that last sentence later). Talking about it without the intent and desire to turn in another direction becomes hollow. John the Baptist preached to that end in Luke 3:8 saying 'produce fruits worthy of your repentance'.
What I discovered again as I read through Confessions is that as we drop the pose, as we become more transparent, and as become more vulnerable, we simultaneously become more human. Our bravado and our charade hides our reality and before too long we can forget who we are beneath the layers of try-hard effort.
As we drop the pose we also allow God to work in and through us. It's hard (or impossible) for God to work in and through our charade...He can break in on it but not work on it. After all, it's not us to start with! When we get real though, when we get repentant, we give God a shot at transforming us.
I've always thought that the Bible verses that become our life verses can say as much about our own condition as they do about Jesus' saving grace.
I'm often writing about Galatians 6:4-5 which says: 'Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don't be impressed with yourself. Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.'
Many times a week I wake up or go to sleep recounting Psalm 139. Aside from being a beautifully poetic Psalm, it reminds me that I'm treasured by my heavenly Father.
Here's the thing: within those two passages are three of my confessions.
First, I compare myself to others more than I ought - that's why I need to remind myself not to and remind myself that it's about what I'm meant to be doing more than what you're meant to be doing!
Second, I tend towards extremes. It's probably why I write so many posts under the 'Strenuous Wholeness' label. I overrate myself and become prideful in one breath, then pay out on myself and crucify myself in the next. Somewhere in between is a health that's only attained through soulcraft (strenuous wholeness) and God's love. The Galatians passage reminds me not to be impressed with myself, but to do the creative best with my own life. Period.
Third (and not finally, because there'd be much more to confess to if I wanted to punish you) is that I need to be reminded of God's unconditional love for me. Psalm 139 and verses like 1 John 3:1 remind me of this. They remind me I cannot run from His love, nor hide from his hand. 139 reminds me that nothing comes as a surprise to God and that he knows the script long before I play it out. And it reminds me that that He guides us on towards eternity.
Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there be any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting. (Ps.139:23-24)
Our openness before an omniscient God isn't really hanging it out there too much. It's ourselves we risk being honest with. The upside is tangibly huge...
How about you? Any life verses to get out there? Any confessions that could move you towards an authentic humanity in Christ?
Just wondering...
Friday, May 18, 2007
New Norcia Reflections: Servanthood
I've retreated to New Norcia this weekend - a monastic town a couple of hours north of Perth by car. I come here often for quite reflection, recalibration and refueling. Basically the equivalent of a car service...but for the soul. Sometimes it's that stuff I come away with. Other times it's more serendipitous.
Eating with the monks is always a treat. Aside from the silent nature of the meals, there's always something on the reading list to pique the curiousity. It's monastic practice not talk during meals, but to have one of the monks read. The meal is considered an extension of the prayers that precede the meal. Tonight it was Colossians 4 then 1 Thessalonians 1 and then into a book on Western Australia's legal system from 1829-2005 - a natural segue I thought.
At the meal's end, the reading monk runs over the 'necrology'. For those who don't delve into a necrology after each meal, it's a recounting (in this context) of the various monks of this order who died on this day (May 18) over the years. They are cited for remembrance and prayer (some interesting theology there but we'll keep moving). The necrology tonight remembered, among others, a monk from Subiaco in Italy who was a 'retired abbot'. This got me thinking: abbots retire. In an order where a vow takes 3-5 years to genuinely 'begin' - and then lasts a lifetime - the abbot (the father of the community) can retire.
Outside of the dining room where it's fine to resume normal conversation, I approached the Abbott. "According to the necrology, Abbot's retire", I said.
He replied: "Yes, at the age of 75, the Abbot offers his retirement to his superiors in Rome who then consider if they will reject it or, if they consider there may be grounds for change, they will put it to the vote within the local monastic community".
He continued: "This is interesting for me...I'm 75 next year".
Failing to betray my transient evangelical piece of turf, I enquired: "Do you have any sense of what you'll do?" To which he gave a great reply: "I am a monk. It is not for me to think about these things. If they have thoughts on it, they will let me know".
"You serve at His pleasure", I added. He nodded knowingly.
As I walked away, the first verse that came to mind was Paul telling the Corinthians that he was a 'slave to Christ'. In an age when we deliberate over the ways we can be most effective for the Kingdom or seek out opportunities where we can shine our light the brightest, the Abbot in four words reminded me of my purpose. I am a slave...to Christ.
Beyond all else, followers of Christ exist for His good pleasure and His glory. Wherever we find ourselves or see ourselves, it is our honour to serve the Master. Sure that service will take on many hues, textures and flavours, but they are all informed by humility and servanthood.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
"All's fair in love and war"
I don't buy this little proverb. I know it’s about the end justifying the means, but I have found that neither love, nor war is at all fair on anyone!
I couldn’t think of two things that strip people of fairness, especially individuals, more than love and war. I would go as far as to ask that if you have found your experience of love to be completely fair to you – is the state you’re experiencing really love? Despite the denial of this fairness to an individual caught up, the stories of beauty and glory shine brighter than the darkness that marks our individual and corporate history.
And it’s these stories that we like to remember in the adventure of love and war. Perhaps we realize that fairness really isn’t the point. Even-handed treatment of everybody doesn’t allow us the opportunity to be truly human. As Christians we believe that we carry certain characteristics of God. We are Imago Dei – made in his image and I would propose that it is not our physical characteristics that are his image, though all those anthropomorphisms in the Bible help us to think that way. What if the image we carry is more qualitative?
God is a god of sacrificial love and don’t we feel so real, so alive, when we say “hang fairness, I’ll give more than I will receive in this relationship”? We understand horror and injustice exist in our world, but it is in the face of this that we arise and show our mettle. We fight individually and as a community because sometimes we believe Goodness or some ideal is worth fighting for. Does this remind us of the Creator, and also of who we are? Redemption, the choice of love, jealousy and high ideals ring so true with us because Truth himself epitomizes these things.
I’m not sure I’ll ever understand love, or war, but I’m starting to see why the stories of both occupy my mind and heart. Perhaps the occasional unjustice of it all is another opportunity, another chance to become who I am, to be like my God, to rise above easy fairness and pour myself out for someone else.
Top 5: Things you gotta do
National Australia Bank (or nab if you're hip and in the 'hood) have a campaign going at the moment. As part of it, there's a list floating around that details '100 things you should do in your life'. Without making a deal of what should and shouldn't be there, have a crack at pulling out your Top 5 from things you haven't done up to this point.
1. kiss a movie star
2. swim with a dolphin
3. take the next taxi to the airport and catch the next plane anywhere
4. run a marathon
5. love your body
6. travel from coast to coast across Australia
7. own a tailor made suit
8. plant a tree
9. do something you fear
10. do a stand-up routine at a comedy club
11. bunjee jump
12. eat something you've caught
13. skydive
14. run with the bulls in Pamplona
15. learn to tango
16. make fire without matches
17. teach someone to read
18. watch a lunar eclipse
19. have your portrait painted
20. win a premiership
21. brew your own beer
22. go to the opening night of the ballet
23. buy cowboy boots in Nashville
24. be an extra in a film
25. become the next internet phenomenon
26. walk the red carpet at an awards night
27. grow a moustache
28. be able to take compliments
29. shower under a waterfall
30. fall in love in Paris
31. break up in Rome
32. sit for a day in the gallery in Parliament House
33. go to the film festival in Cannes
34. spend a night in a haunted house
35. write a song
36. read a book in one sitting
37. got to the World Cup final
38. visit Gallipoli
39. have a White Christmas in Lapland
40. grow your hair long
41. hug a stranger everyday for a week
42. go white-water rafting
43. dance in Grand Central Station
44. score a hole-in-one
45. talk to a stranger on a bus
46. ride a motorbike on the open road
47. learn to juggle
48. collect something pointless
49. own a convertible
50. play a guitar on the steps of Madison Square Gardens
51. learn to fly a helicopter
52. yodel on a Swiss mountain
53. drive the MOnaco GP circuit on a Vespa
54. see all of Billy Wilder's films
55. create a cult website and sellit for millions
56. join a dig for dinosaur bones
57. see the Wallabies play England at Tickenham
58. ride the biggest roller-coaster in the world
59. see a killer whale in the wild
60. coach a kids' sports team
61. memorise a poem
62. become sometone's nemesis
63. shoot a short film
64. start your own business
65. visit Stonehenge and recreate the scene from Spinal Tap
66. buy a share of a racehorse
67. walk the Kakoda Track
68. get a tattoo
69. learn CPR
70. sit courtside at a Lakers' game
71. play lead guitar in a band
72. meet someone with your own name
73. shape your own surfboard
74. gallop a horse on a deserted beach
75. play patanque
76. work in a soup kitchen on Christmas Day
77. have a star named after you
78. drive along Route 66
79. experience weightlessness
80. live overseas
81. run up the Rocky steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art
82. climb to Everest Base Camp
83. drink tequila in Mexico
84. create a world record
85. invent the next must-have Christmas toy
86. be a contestant in a game show
87. learn the piano accordian but vow never to play it
88. go on a safari
89. become your team's mascot
90. enter the Archibald Prize
91. pay it forward
92. milk a cow
93. become carbon neutral
94. get your dream job
95. fly in a hot air balloon across the desert
96. own an original work of art
97. shout the bar
98. dive with the sharks
99. grow your own vegtables
100. design your own cocktail.
Pick five. Any five. So long as you haven't already done it.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The Cacophony Interviews: May 2007
Michael Dunjey, Everest Climber
In the early hours of Friday morning, May 11, Michael Dunjey re-entered Australian airspace having spent the better part of two months on Mount Everest. His ascent ended at the oxygen-rare height of 7300m when he was forced to retreat to Base Camp or put his team (and the future of his fingers) in jeopardy. Over lunch and a couple of short macs, Simon Elliott and Brad Birt caught up with him to check out his hands, to talk everything from the mountain, to bowel movements, to the future, and kick off The Cacophony Interview Series.
C: Welcome home mate, it's good to see you in one piece. It looks as though you've left a few kilograms on the mountain...
MD: Yeah, about 8 kilograms. I went up 84kg, right now I'm 76kg. Interestingly, mountain climbing at altitude is the only form of exercise where you lose muscle before fat. I've still got some handles to hold on to.
C: What's great about being back at sea-level?
MD: Well, for starters, that's where Aimee (MD's wife) lives. But there's plenty more besides: breathing easily, getting your appetite back, eating multiple breakfast lunch and dinners, and enjoying simple pleasure like going to the toilet and having a shower. And, in time, it will be fun catching up with friends and family.
C: How often did you shower on the mountain?
MD: About once a week. And changed underwear at similar intervals. Obviously you can explore all the configurations of a single set of underwear before you've really got a problem.
C: And bowel movements on the mountain?!
MD: Well, at Base Camp it's reasonably civil. There's a small tent. It's smells feral but it's warm...and on Everest, anything warm is pretty good. Once you're getting further up the mountain it becomes a little trickier. You don't want to expose anything for too long (and at some temperatures it's not all that easy to locate through 6 inches of insulation). Exposure is a serious problem. We use a pee-bottle at night and for the weightier offerings zip-lock bags come in handy—these get jettisoned on the mountain the next day. Our climbing gear has easy access backsuits so it's not too hard although a few climbers have been known to make deposits in their hoods in error.
C: Yikes.
MD: Not me mind you.
C: Sure. What's the view like at 7300m?
MD: Well the summit looks incredibly close (although in reality it's 18 hours away). It's quite incredible really. For so many years I've looked at photos of every passage of Everest and studied it closely, so in someways nothing comes as a surprise...except that you're actually ON the mountain. Probably one of the most common phrases that got swapped between team members was 'hey guys, we're climbing Everest'. For all of us this was a dream that had been coming a long, long time and being there was almost surreal at times.
From 6500m you can see the summit really clearly and from there you really just want to get on with it. You find yourself being continually reminded by the magnitude of the moment...and the sheer and absolute exhaustion it brings.
C: What was the toughest part?
MD: Without doubt it was the first climb half way up the Khumbu Icefall. While we all knew this was about acclimatisation, nothing could have prepared us for this. We came down that day shattered, exhausted and demoralised. We'd gone through severe 'mountain shock' which our guide told us was quite typical. In some ways it was reassuring to know that many before us (and all of us on the team) felt as distraught. I've never been so exhausted.
C: Tell us more about the team...
MD: For starters, I was the only member who hadn't run a marathon. All the others had run marathons and ultra-marathons. Two had completed the Hawaiian Ironman Triathlon and another a 1000km bike race. They were super-fit.
C: Did they have any understanding of your eclectic musical tastes?
MD: I kept it reasonably hidden. I told them of my passion for Celine but, to be honest, I'm pretty sure they thought I was joking.
C: And how did they regard the physical aspect of the climb?
MD: Without exception, everyone who had run a marathon likened each climbing day past Base Camp to the intensity of a marathon. Even the easiest of days was compared to a marathon—similar exertion, similar side-effects, less oxygen. Most mountain-climbers peak around 45-60 years old. Chuck, probably the strongest on our team, was also the old guy. At 63, Chuck could climb like a ridiculously accomplished 30 year old. There were many like him, but none stronger or fitter. He was astounding.
C: How dangerous was it?
MD: We all knew it was dangerous. We'd all heard of people whose life was taken on the mountain. Every Everest season there's casualties. In a way though, you hear about it so much that you become numb to the risks. That all changed when we saw it firsthand.
C: Tell us about it.
MD: In short, one of the sherpas for another team hiked past us while we were climbing between Camp One and Camp Two. He was on his way from Base Camp to Camp Two (the sherpas typically, and super-humanly, take two camps at a time). Four hours later we saw him carried down the mountain. He was killed by a chunk of ice hitting his head. We were radioed ahead to let us know he had been killed and then radioed again to let us know that the body was only 10 minutes away. He was quite a legend of the mountain it seemed as 20 grieving sherpas carried him—wrapped in sleeping bags and on a stretcher—back down the mountain. It was a reminder to our whole team how dangerous this mountain could be.
C: Have their been many lives lost so far this season?
MD: Only two that I know of, but May is the month for Everest fatalities because it's when everyone is at the dangerous altitudes.
C: Recount the story that lead to you coming back to Base Camp.
MD: I was leading the team on that day. Until that point the attempt was flawless. The previous few days my hands had been cold but when you're climbing Everest it's quite expected. On this day one of the guides told me I needed to prepare to use some equipment on my bag for the next part of the climb. After fumbling around for a few minutes I realised that I couldn't open my bag—my hands weren't working. The guide asked me to take off my gloves and show him. My fingers were already turning black. He told me I'd need to head back to Base Camp.
C: What are some of the thoughts that went through your head when you realised that summiting was no longer a possibility?
MD: I think I had 60 seconds of complete denial before I realised that it was a pragmatic and objective decision. I couldn't operate my equipment. It became an easy call. In all our preparations we had it drilled into us: don't leave flesh on the mountain—the mountain will still be there, your body parts will be gone forever. The decision was simple. I would have endangered my self and my team.
C: What if you'd kept on going?
MD: Well, for a start i would have lost a number of fingers. It would have meant trying to hide it from the others and that would have been irresponsible...it would have put the whole expedition in jeopardy.
C: If you'd have been at 8800m (50 metres from the summit), what would you have done?
MD: Gone for it! But I wasn't, I was 18 hours away and while in the context of an 8 week trip I had completed the toughest sections of the mountain and the lion's share of it, we still had a way to go.
C: In retrospect, is there anything you could have done differently?
MD: Frustratingly, yes. While I was wearing two layers of gloves, I could have been wearing the third, high-altitude mitt. This glove restricts a lot of function and is simply thumb and mitt. Had I put this on an hour before (or three days before) things may have been different. To put them on though would have meant stopping the pack that I was leading and unpacking to retrieve these gloves. I didn't want to hold up the team...and I obviously didn't know the extent of my problems.
C: What was the reaction of the team to you having to abort the summit attempt?
MD: They didn't actually find out until they came back down to Base Camp. The group is near each other on the climbs but still stretched out a fair bit. So you're not really aware of all the tales of the day's climb until you're back at the camp. They were great about it though. They had a Celebration Dinner for me which was great of them. Climbers know how quickly fortunes can change on the mountain. Everything needs to go right on each climbing day for you to successfully summit. It's like the Olympic marathon winner—they may not be the best athlete in the field, but they're the athlete that it all came together for on the day. Realistically, I was probably in the top quartile of the climbers in our team...but anything can happen.
C: What was it like back down the mountain?
MD: A bit funny really. You're holed up in one of three 5-star hotels that are filled up with 400 climbers who have all had to succumb to the mountain. We called each other the 'Everest-Rejects'. 600 try the mountain each year; if it was that easy these hotels wouldn't be full of limping climbers with bodies in various stages of disrepair.
C: How are your hands now?
MD: As I came down the mountain, I had stop at 15 minute intervals and put my hands under the armpits of my guide to preserve them. It might sound nasty, but I'd rather have my hands. All ten fingers were dead white and wooden or glassy to the touch and well on their way to freezing. We were just below Camp 3 but to spend the night at that height and in the cold conditions would have been stupid with my hands in that condition.
My guide accompanied me back to Camp 2. I was placed on bottled oxygen immediately. This aids directly in returning circulation to the extremities. My hands were placed in a warm bath of water for the next hour. Who knows how bad my fingers may have got. But I feel with the immediate action that was taken in getting me back down, the oxygen etc, that at least three of my fingers were saved from the chop.
The second, third and fourth fingers on my right hand still have no sensation, but this should return over the next 3-9 months.
Interestingly, I can scratch my ear and feel nothing...yet my itch is sated. Nice!
C: So many of your decisions over the last decade or so have been based on a tilt at Everest. Is it too early talk about the future?
MD: It's an interesting question. Until now everything has been a stepping stone towards a much larger goal: Everest. In many ways I feel that I've done it. Have I climbed Everest? Yes. Have I summited Everest? No. Yet, I've conquered the toughest parts of Everest. I've climbed the Khumbu Icefall four times. I've been to Camp 3. I've climbed to 7300m on one of the world's toughest mountains. For the moment, my Everest itch is largely satiated.
C: Do you want to go back up the mountain?
MD: As I said, I feel no need to go again...at the moment. But in many ways it's 'once a climber always a climber'. The guides said to us all before we went up the mountain: 'whatever you do, don't sell your gear when you come back down in some reaction to what went on up the mountain. It's temporary...and you'll end up having to buy all your gear back. I sold nothing other than some oxygen tanks. So, I think I'll always be climbing in some form.
There are other alluring mountains too. Aconcagua in Argentina is the highest outside of the Himalayas and I'm keen to climb it one day. The thing about climbing as I said earlier is that you peak anywhere from 45-60 so I have plenty of time ahead of me.
C: So, what's next?
MD: On the non-climbing front, I'm really looking forward to the next chapter. Aimee and I are keen to start a family sooner than later. I'm keen to sink my teeth (or feet) back into podiatry and continue to build the property portfolio that I've started. I'm also wanting to explore the Life Coaching/Personal Coaching area. I'm continually fascinated by the difference that effective goal setting can make to a person's life and would love to be part of that journey with a host of people.
On the climbing front, I have a great desire to take small groups of people to do interesting, eye-opening treks to places like Argentina. I've had brief discussions with Wesley College about such a trip and the idea really excites me. I love the sub-continent, the thrill of adventure, the physical challenge of it all and the opportunities to explore yourself that come through physical exertion. I'd love to be part of helping people learn more of themselves through that kind of adventure.
C: Do you think everyone needs to climb a mountain?
MD: Depends whether you're talking metaphorically or physically. In some ways the answer is yes to both, but I understand that some people simply don't enjoy climbing. I absolutely believe that physical exertion, suffering and a plain old hard days' work can change your mental attitude...which flows on to the rest of your life. You see on these poxy shows like 'Biggest Loser'...some guy gets mentally broken through physical exertion, yet it becomes a breakthrough for him. They get broken, but discover another dimension on the other side of all of that.
I think we all need to challenge ourselves to gain perspective by broadening our horizons. I look around Perth and I see a whole lot of people that are obsessed by nothing more than lowering their mortgages. There's so much more of life to take in. Get out of the rut. Climb a mountain. Go on a short term mission trip. Don't make the micro-culture your whole world. Be bold enough to see beyond it. In that whole process, quite aside from the thrill of adventure, you'll gain a fresh perspective on the priority you're giving to a whole lot of other things.
C: Nice work. Tell me about the spiritual dimension of climbing Everest.
I think it's in the extremes of life that we hold on to God the hardest. For me, it's in the heights and in the depths. When things are brilliant, I want to yell out my thanks for all that's brilliant. And in the depths, I want to cry out for help.
In many ways, Everest doesn't feel like earth; it's the domain of absolute extremes. Extreme pain, extreme fatigue, extreme cold and extremely low oxygen. You discover more of God in these extremes. You appreciate more joy when you've gone through the pain.
Our team was really interesting. Probably half or more of the team had a really strong faith in Jesus. Dave from Colorado, the guy I roomed and tented with, was a deacon in his Presbyterian church back at home. The difference it made to be able to unpack the highs and lows of a day on the mountain in the context of our faith journey was huge. It was such a provision.
C: Are there leadership lessons from the mountain?
MD: Absolutely. There's a bunch of leadership and team lessons. A mountain like Everest is all about team and leadership under the most extreme conditions imaginable. What you observe is that as the altitude increases the guides switch on and become increasingly intentional about their leadership, their need to provide certainty and the conviction of their instructions. They know what it takes to succeed and survive on this mountain. Most of these guides lecture in MBA schools around the world because of the amount of leadership lessons that can be gleaned from the pressure cooker that is Everest.
In many ways it's the litmus test of leadership: leadership under pressure. My personal challenge was with diet; the guides wanted me to be eating constantly. I remember one stretch when the guide stopped the team to observe whether or not I was eating. I didn't want to slow the team down to get more food. The guide said: eat now! The team waited for me to get supplies. The guides had identified the greatest needs of each of the climbers and were holding each of us accountable to the things that would give us the greatest chance of success. Food was the big one for me.
There was little, if an, hierarchy within the team itself. It was without doubt one of the best teams I have ever had the privilege of being a part of. Aside from having a huge sense of humour (essential for this kind of expedition) each person was always looking out for everyone else. We genuinely desired success for everyone else on the team. Back in Perth now, I'm still following the journeys of everyone from my team, hoping that each of them summit the mountain.
C: A tough question maybe...was there any sense of dread coming back home knowing the hopes of so many for your success?
MD: No, not really. A mate of mine, Ed Bradley, attempted Everest a few years back and had to turn back only 100metres from the summit when inclement weather closed in. He told me that for the first fortnight after he got back it was all about how it felt to get so close. From then on he's been 'the guy who climbed Everest'. Just like me, that's true. We've both been up the mountain and we've both experienced the harshest of what it has to offer. I went to Everest and I didn't summit, but I conquered the lion's share. As I said earlier, I'm really satisfied. Occasionally frustrated—that's human—but really satisfied.
C: Mate, thanks for talking to us. I speak for a whole lot who read Cacophony and a whole lot beyond when I say we're incredibly proud of what you did up on the mountain, what you've achieved, the character you've demonstrated and the perspective you bring.
MD: Cheers. Thanks for the opportunity to answer a few questions a few people might be wondering about.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Top 5: Sounds from a lazy Saturday afternoon
I listened, and this is what I heard:
1) Station IDs from the Beeb: This is the BBC in Vancouver; this is the BBC in Karachi; this is the BBC in Honiara; this: is the B-B-C… They sound so good – and they let me pretend I’m a Citizen O’ The World…
2) The thick, steely click that signals my washing machine has finished another load.
3) The restive clunk of baking sheets flexing as they heat in the oven. Makes me feel so Nigella…
4) Elvis, floating up from downstairs. At that distance, he’s actually a pretty perfect soundtrack.
5) The chirrups my cat makes at the birds outside. I’m glad I can’t translate – her threats of Tarantino-style mayhem would probably ruin the mood.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Turning Green
A few decades back you would have guessed a story called 'Turning Green' was a tale of envy. These days it's more likely you're thinking this is a post about our love of the environment, our aversion of greenhouse gases or our infatuation with Al Gore. But it's envy I'm on about...
I realised sometime earlier this week that I've gone through a few streets of envy along my journey. Perhaps not the typical sort but, then again, they all tend to amount to the same root: I want something you've got.
When I was 18 and could see an international running career ahead of me, I got injured pretty bad. It was something that the medical population of Perth (and parts of Melbourne) couldn't figure out. It was referred pain into my right leg and it stopped me running for a long time. While there were good years of running in there, it's always been a case of managing pain since then. Interestingly, during these years of enforced non-running, I found myself walking past total strangers and thinking, 'you don't need a perfect right leg but I do'. I'd make imaginary exchanges with them. Say, my dodgy right leg for their sore wrist. I figured that unless they weren't running 140km a week they probably wouldn't find my leg that problematic and, hey, I was up for a pesky wrist.
Years later, I remember seeing couples arm in arm or in deep conversation and thinking, 'you don't know how fortunate you are'. 'You need to see yourselves through my eyes...then you'll really value what you've got'.
Over the last couple of weeks I've noticed time-rich people with a touch of envy. Seeing the same guy at 130s casually reading his book, or my neighbours taking their twins for long 2 hour walks and thinking 'I want that now...you lucky mongrels!'
Envy takes many shades of green. None of them particularly healthy because they're all pointing to discontent of some kind. I certainly don't write this with a sense of joy...envy is insidious and rarely leads to joy. If you're going to have these pangs of envy though, my thought is: let them go somewhere productive rather than somewhere nasty. Let them help you appreciate that you can walk (or use your wrists!), or be grateful for the fine friends you have around you. Or let them challenge you to remedy what you're missing. Better yet, let those feelings propel you to seeking satisfaction in all the right places.
Paul wrote to the Philippians: I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.
Perhaps I'm the only one around here that gets a little green every now and then. Or maybe I'm not alone.
Noise
Standing at the petrol pump, I have this overwhelming need, desire, obsession to kick the box where the fuel pumps out full of rage and desperation. Why does it have to speak to me now, bombing my space with advertising and invading, incessant noise.
As much as I appreciate Rosie the G.P.R.S voice over, her inability to answer my questions annoy my sense of reality and relational I.Q
Then I walk into the toilets at our local cinema and it's not enough for the hand dryer to just buzz, it has to shout advertising at me whilst I switch off from the world in the sacred space of the humble loo!
Adverts calling me to buy, fake people screaming for my attention, the noise that we are subjected to daily, without freewill is out of control.
Watching a Nooma video this week entitled 'Noise' I was comforted by the sound of silence.
Our world finds it necessary to cover up the white space of quiet with elevator music, crappy tunes not fit for a karoke bar and a consumerist, incessant inability to allow our own thoughts to roam free without interruption.
Don't get me wrong I love communication with people, I love a good chat over a coffee. I even prefer written communication more, the thrill of blogging, magazine-ing, read-ing, letter writ-ing and any other ing that involves, word-ing!
BUT- noise, audible or not that is subjected into my sphere without permission aka the Graham Farmer Tunnel taking over my radio for a weather report is enough to turn this good little christian into a sword waving maniac.
period!
A
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
A cure for concern
On the occasions I find myself buried beneath an avalanche of tissues, suffering from a blocked nose and sore throat, I suddenly wish I had the health I enjoyed last week and the ability to soak up the sunshine and engage with people. It’s the same with holidays; I used to take for granted those uni breaks that stretched on forever but now that I have four weeks a year instead of four months, each day is measured out like gold dust. What I’m trying to get at is how it often takes something negative to make you notice the positive.
I’ve been a bit stressed about money lately. I’m on the verge of taking on a mortgage and have been figuring out how I’m going to survive on a part-time wage. To compound my nervousness, I lost my bank card a few days ago and had to scrounge around in the back of my car for coins to pay for petrol – twice (unfortunately, it was a complete excavation the first time).
Today I went to tutor two boys and chatted to their mum afterwards. They’re from East Timor and are in Perth on a temporary protection visa but she just found out this afternoon that the meager allowance the family is living on will cease to be paid to her from next week. Her husband is fighting in East Timor and she hasn’t heard from him in two months – he’s never seen their youngest child. She has four children under the age of 11 and basically no support.
While I’m worrying about having enough money to pay off my own house – as well as having enough to go to the movies and eat out when I feel like it – this family might not have a house to live in in a week’s time. The encounter didn’t just put my concerns into perspective but convicted me of my general self-centredness – I’ve found a cure (temporarily) for both my worry and my self-absorption.
Friday, May 4, 2007
My Ten Commandments
Everyone has rules they apply to their own life and the things that they do, here are mine:
1. Despite manufacturers "claims" that their batteries have no charge memory, never place on charge any rechargeable battery or portable device with an internal battery that has charge remaining. They must be flat before being placed on charge.
2. Fill a fuel tank to the top. Cars like to have a full stomach just like you do.
3. Do not have unnecessary icons on one’s desktop screen; be a tidy computer user.
4. Tune a guitar string up to the note, not down to the note.
5. Stir coffee anticlockwise, always, for this is correct.
6. Don’t carry unnecessary keys with you. If you don’t need the keys then ditch them.
7. Never ever wear a cell phone, or anything for that matter, on your belt, unless you are batman or a policeman.
8. Pocket change is to be placed in a bowl every night upon returning home. When the bowl overflows to the floor it can be counted and exchanged for a guitar.
9. Use only one pen until the ink runs out. Only then have you earned the right to have another pen.
10. Never read more than one book at once lest you become confused and discouraged, never to finish either of them.
Obsessive compulsive - I don't know. Tell me yours and then we'll decide!
That was the day Krispy Kreme came to town...
The world's most isolated city is no welcomer of some to life's finer indulgences. Sure, it's well compensated by many other rich attributes, but Perth is a wasteland when it comes to the finest doughnuts on the planet. Until Friday May 4...that was the day Krispy Kremes came to town, bringing with them a whole lot of love, a whole lot of charity and a whole lot of calories.
Today was Starlight Day - the annual national fundraising day for Starlight Children's Foundation. Since 1988, Starlight has brightened the lives of seriously ill and hospitalised children, and their families, by delivering innovative programs that restore the fun, laughter and joy that serious illness takes away.
To tie in with Starlight Day, Krispy Kreme made a one-day-only appearance in Murray Street mall. It was necessary to pre-order your $25 box of a dozen Krispy Kremes. A fellow cacophonist got me in on the action 45 minutes before the 'order by 5pm Thursday' window was shut. The box included 6 commemorative star-shaped KK's and 6 semi-regular KK offerings. Everyone in my workplace secured their stash. I'm not sure how many hundreds/thousands of boxes were sold, but there's some decent fundage flowing into the fundraising coffers of the Starlight Foundation tonight.
Much kudos for a tidy marketing idea targeted into a Krispy Kreme-denied city. I hope they've derived plenty of money. After all, many Western Australians are deriving much satisfaction right now. And kudos also to Krispy Kreme—one of the world's iconic brands and embracer of charity on this and many others. Perhaps it may give the folk KK the confidence to launch a foray into the western wasteland.
8 seconds in the microwave will bring back some of the freshness the plane trip stole...
A bit each way
When you're calling one guy the 'King of Grass' and the other the 'King of Clay', there seems only one resolution to your quandary.
Four-time Wimbledon champion Federer played two-time French Open winner Nadal last night in an exhibition on a customized half-clay, half-grass court.
The event was held in Palma De Mallorca to promote the Balearic Islands (yeah, they need promoting alright).
The organisers had to lay a brand new surface on the grass side of the court on Tuesday night after the original turf had failed to cope with the indoor location and then fell victim to a plague of worms.
Changeovers were extended to two minutes instead of the usual 90 seconds to give players a chance to change their footwear for each surface.
Rafael Nadal beat Roger Federer, 7-5, 4-6, 7-6 (10), in an exhibition Wednesday on a half-grass, half-clay court when the top-ranked Swiss failed to reach a forehand that took a funny bounce across the green side.
My mind has been forever tainted of any affinity for Rafael Nadal after sitting behind an extremely whining tennis tragic (let's just call her European) at the Australian Open who seemed utterly unable to control the need to yell 'C'monce Rafa' every time there was a point played. As Rafael sunk into the junkyard of the Australian Open it became more evident that her inspiring commentary had nothing to do with the tennis and (perhaps) more to do with his torso.
If this result infers anything about Nadal being a superior player to Federer, this is incidental and erroneous. One day Nadal may be invited to tie Federer's shoelaces. He should accept with gratitude. As much as I am bored by his complete dominance, let's not pretend there are two kings out there.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Doing stuff.
Just turned over this quote in a book I'm re-reading:Before a man can do things there must be things he will not do.
- Mencius
Thoughts?
Holy Father
Pope Alexander VI had six illegitmate kids. It's no secret, and he wasn't the only one...
Obviously I'm not out to denigrate any of the Pontiffs (we should write a "you're tops" for some of them) but you have to admit that the thought of the Pope's kids running around the Vatican is pretty humorous.
I've gone to the trusted source of humanity's collective knowledge (google+wikipedia) and in my surface level research have realized that some of the Pope's descendents still seem to be around.
This raises interesting questions:
-Could the descendents of Pope Alexander VI ask the Roman Catholic Church for back-dated child support payments?
-Would it have accrued interest since the Middle Ages?
-Would the Holy See require a DNA test to authenticate the charge?
As they have the bodies of previous Pontiffs interred in St Peter's you could, technically, check out the legitimacy (or perhaps the illegitimacy?) of the claim. I'm thinking of creating a website, where you can cross-reference your genetic data with that of any Supreme Pontiff from history.
Maybe something along the lines of www.thepopeisnotjustmyspiritualfather.com?
If you're Roman Catholic, please don't write angry weblog posts defaming me (ok, you can if you really want to) but please realize I speak in jest. Christian history is hilarious.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Cacophony: no coy chap
What’s a rag man, you ask? Why, it’s an anagram of the word anagram. I spend far too much time thinking up anagrams for different words. Which is why the Internet Anagram Server — or the I, rearrangement servant — is my new best friend.
The word juggling usually starts on the drive to work. I live in the suburb of Maida Vale – of which I long ago satisfied myself that ‘a male diva’ was the best arrangement. On the way to East Perth, license plates, shop signs, street names and words I hear on the radio are stirred and swivelled like wine in the bottom of a glass, unleashing a potent mix of letters for my enjoyment.
The way the Internet Anagram Server works is simple — just type in a word or a phrase and it will spit out a long list of possibilities. For example, some of my favourites for the name Simon Elliott are ‘no slim toilet’, ‘emotion still’, ‘I moot lentils’ and ‘oo smell init?’ I just typed my boss’s full name and it came up with ‘a bristled newt’. Too good.