The Law of Undulation

On the drive to Cincinnati yesterday, I listened to a radio dramatization of "The Screwtape Letters," C.S. Lewis' famous  look into the mentoring relationship between two devils – a junior tempter (Wormwood), and his uncle, a senior tempter (Screwtape). In the story, Wormwood is tempting his first human, and his uncle gives him tips and hints about how to adequately keep humans away from the "great enemy:" God.

I made it through about half of the set yesterday, and was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the dramatization. I was totally engrossed. The voice acting helped, too – Andy Serkis (Gollum) was fantastic as Screwtape, and the other actors, though lesser known, performed their parts equally well.
I was struck yesterday by the dramatization of the eighth letter from Screwtape to Wormwood, dealing with the "law of undulation." I'd quote the whole chapter if I could, but that wouldn't be exactly legal – so, just a snippet. (Someone has posted the whole chapter, and most of the book, here).

Humans are amphibians—half spirit and half animal. (The Enemy's determination to produce such a revolting hybrid was one of the things that determined Our Father to withdraw his support from Him.) As spirits they belong to the eternal world, but as animals they inhabit time. This means that while their spirit can be directed to an eternal object, their bodies, passions, and imaginations are in continual change, for to be in time means to change. Their nearest approach to constancy, therefore, is undulation—the repeated return to a level from which they repeatedly fall back, a series of troughs and peaks. If you had watched your patient carefully you would have seen this undulation in every department of his life—his interest in his work, his affection for his friends, his physical appetites, all go up and down. As long as he lives on earth periods of emotional and bodily richness and liveliness will alternate with periods of numbness and poverty. The dryness and dullness through which your patient is now going are not, as you fondly suppose, your workmanship; they are merely a natural phenomenon which will do us no good unless you make a good use of it.
To decide what the best use of it is, you must ask what use the Enemy wants to make of it, and then do the opposite. Now it may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the troughs even more than on the peaks; some of His special favourites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else. The reason is this. To us a human is primarily good; our aim is the absorption of its will into ours, the increase of our own area of selfhood at its expense. But the obedience which the Enemy demands of men is quite a different thing. One must face the fact that all the talk about His love for men, and His service being perfect freedom, is not (as one would gladly believe) mere propaganda, but an appalling truth.

Lewis goes on to discuss the role of free will in the "war" for human souls, but that's a slightly different topic (and, of course, a very debatable one). The "Law of Undulation" is, in itself, a broad topic that we can apply to our lives and walks of faith in a variety of different ways. With this blog post, I mostly just wanted to point out how much I believe in the point that Lewis is making – that our lives naturally have highs and lows, because of the way we have been created and because of the sinful and broken nature of our world. Often, when we're in a valley, we look only for the path that will take us to the next peak – but we should recognize that God is in the valleys as much as or more than he is in the peaks. When we find ourselves in a downward trough of undulation, we should ask ourselves what God wants to make of it.

This pattern of undulation won't end until we're at home in heaven. There's a verse in Isaiah that speaks to this:

Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all flesh shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
- Isaiah 40:4-5

Time away

Christmas break has finally arrived! I finished my last final on Tuesday, so now I have – quite literally – nothing to do for three and a half weeks. Doubtless I'll fill most of my days with reading, episodes of LOST, Age of Empires III and random acts of tomfoolery. I'll be heading home to Cincinnati for a few days on either side of Christmas. Over the New Year's holiday, Sarah and I are heading to New England to visit Lake Champion, Sarah's brother's family in New York City and my sister's family in Portland, Maine, where we'll hopefully go skiing (Sunday River) and hit up the L.L. Bean Outlet in Freeport.
I'm also going to make a point to photoblog during break – especially during the New England trip. Without schoolwork to do, I'll need something to focus on!

Anyway, as I mentioned before, I decided to start off my Christmas break by taking a personal retreat. After spending some time looking for a location, I settled on St. Meinrad, a Benedictine Monastery and seminary in southern Indiana. The seminary had some interesting history – it was founded in 1852 by Swiss monks who were looking to expand their abbey to the United States as an insurance policy against the anti-Catholic Swiss government of the time. If the Swiss government became too oppressive, the monks planned to pack up and move to America. However, that never happened, and by the 1870s St. Meinrad had become an independent monastery.

I arrived Wednesday afternoon and pretty much spent all of my time in reading and prayer. I took an hour in the afternoon to walk around the grounds and take photos, and also attended the evening Vespers service in the monastery. The most interesting reading I was doing was from Tim Keller's "Counterfeit Gods," an excellent book about modern idolatry. When I'm finished with it I may have to devote a post to it.

Anyway, here's a few pictures. These were all taken with my Tokina 11-16mm f/2.8. I'm digging the superwide.

When pigs fly.

Well, I'm in for it now.

I've signed up for the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati on May 2. It's 206 days away -- and there's a lot of running to be done between now and then.

To date, I've run four half marathons (soon to be five) with mixed success. I've finished them fine and generally felt good, though I've not really improved my time. I decided that it's time to put some dedicated effort into it and finish at least one full marathon.

Cincinnati is a great choice, too. It's not the flattest course (see the elevation profile below), but I'm from Cincinnati, it's a great marathon, and I should be able to have family and friends there to cheer me on.

And let's be honest -- the Flying Pig marathon? The moniker is perfect. I'm reminded of the "Pigasus," a personal stamp used by John Steinbeck with the latin motto Ad astra per alia porci (to the stars on the wings of a pig). The pigasus was supposed to symbolize Steinbeck's "earthbound but aspiring" nature, as he was a "lumbering soul but trying to fly...(with)...not enough wingspread but plenty of attention." Sounds a lot like my running. I'm currently researching training, but hope to come up with a plan soon!

                             

Wedding photography!

Yesterday I had my first experience as a wedding photographer – I'll be honest, it was a little stressful – but it was also a lot of fun. Especially since I got to shoot photos of and for such good friends.

By far and large I'm saving the photos so that Jeremy and Erica can see them first (especially the ones of them), but I did want to share a few highlights for those of you that were there. Maybe once I've given them all over to J&E and they're back from their honeymoon I'll post more.

((p.s. -- the pics really aren't looking their best through Blogger. Enjoy anyway!))

 

 

 

 

Your favorite president

Quick. Who's your favorite U.S. President?

I'll give you a second. Think of your answer.

Got it?

Did you say Lincoln? Most do.

I recently watched a video where a guy was interviewing students at UC-Berkeley and asking them this exact question – and some of the answers were shocking. Most people said Lincoln – that seems to be the default answer, and for good reason. Lincoln was an immense figure in U.S. history.

However, lots of the other answers were just, well, shocking – many couldn't name one, or when they were asked for reasons for their selection they couldn't come up with any. Anyway, the question spurred my mind into action, and I thought I'd give a quick top three – for argument's sake, I'll exclude Lincoln from consideration (interestingly, my three come roughly from the same era of American history).


Grover Cleveland (1885-1889, 1893-1897)
The only President elected to nonconsecutive terms, Cleveland was a tireless reformer. While some of Cleveland's policies as a President were controversial (including his support of the gold standard and his intervention in the Pullman strike), he was widely respected for his character. One biographer wrote, "in Grover Cleveland the greatness lies in typical rather than unusual qualities. He had no endowments that thousands of men do not have. He possessed honesty, courage, firmness, independence, and common sense. But he possessed them to a degree other men do not."

After election to his first term, Cleveland ignored the typical spoils system for appointments and instead vowed to presidentially appoint only those who would do their jobs well. Cleveland also undertook efforts to modernize the Navy and created the Interstate Commerce Commission. Cleveland was a Democrat, but was also a staunch believer in limited government, and used the veto more times than any president before. Interestingly, Cleveland is the only president to be married in the White House.


Teddy Roosevelt (1901-1909)

America's youngest president. America's cowboy president. A man of impeccable character, energy and and achievements, T.R. was the man who coined the term "speak softly and carry a big stick." Roosevelt became president in 1901 when McKinley was assassinated. A Republican president, T.R. was just as well known for his exploits as a naturalist, explorer, soldier and author as he was as a politician. Roosevelt pushed for the completion of the Panama Canal and negotiated the end to the Russo-Japanese War, which earned him a Nobel Peace Prize.

Roosevelt declined to run for reelection in 1908 (remember, there were no term limits then) but ran again in 1912 as a third party candidate, coming in second to the next president on this list. As Roosevelt was campaigning in 1912, an attempt was made on his life. A bullet passed through his metal eyeglasses case and lodged in his ribcage. Roosevelt, drawing on his experience as a soldier, reasoned that since he wasn't coughing up blood he wasn't in any immediate danger. He went on to give a 90-minute campaign speech while the bullet wound bled.


Woodrow Wilson (1913-1921)
America's only President to ever hold a Ph.D., Wilson was one of America's most idealistic presidents. In Wilson's first term, he worked with the Democratic Congress to pass the Federal Reserve Act, Federal Trade Commission, the Clayton Antitrust Act and the Federal Farm Loan Act and America's first-ever federal progressive income tax in the Revenue Act of 1913. That's a lot for one term, and during Wilson's second term he guided the U.S.'s inevitable entry into World War I.

Towards the end of World War I, Wilson took personal control of negotiations with Germany and issued his Fourteen Points, which enumerated his ideas for a peaceful post-war world. He worked hard to establish the League of Nations, a project that earned him the Nobel Peace Prize. Sadly, Wilson would never see the U.S. enter the league he helped create, in part because Wilson refused to budge from his idealistic positions. During a debate with the Senate in 1919, Wilson collapsed and suffered a stroke. His refusal to compromise meant the U.S. would never ratify the legislation that would enter them into the league.

Lake Monroe

Last weekend, I was able to head out to Lake Monroe (Indiana's largest lake) to help teach a Coastal Kayaking Class. We went to the easternmost part of the lake, near Crooked Creek, where few motorboats venture and where the lake, apart from a few channels, is less a lake and more a large, swampy marsh, full of eagles, herons, ducks, geese, fish, snakes and sucking mud.

It was a beautiful weekend, and getting outdoors and on the water was a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of grad school. I'll just share a few photos...

We made pizza on the fire – it was amazing.

After beautiful weather on Saturday, storms and low clouds rolled in early Sunday morning. Though it made us wet, the lake was beautiful -- it felt like we were paddling in Alaska or British Columbia. Indiana has its moments. 

This last picture is of the largest caterpillar I've ever seen in my life ("like a pickle," as one person put it -- just much, much hairier. And probably less tasty). I looked it up when I got home -- turns out it's an imperial moth: not overly rare (but large, with about a 5'6" wingspan), but rare to see as a caterpillar.

Welcome back to Blogger

Well, I'm making a return to Blogger for the home of my blog posts. Luckily, I never deleted my old posts from Blogger, so they're all still here! I'm migrating the posts over from Wordpress and they should all be in place in the next week or so.

I'm switching back to Blogger because I'm making my domain an exclusive site for photography -- I might be selling some in the near future! Anyway, personal blog posts don't really belong there, so I'm going to be using blogger again.

I really haven't blogged much in a while, but I have some stuff I want to write about, so I'm happy to have the forum. And, of course, I'll still put up some photography -- I just got the zoom feature javascript working here so you can click on the image below to expand it.



This shot is from my recent backpacking trip to the Appalachian Trail on the Tennessee/North Carolina border. We were in a ton of fog, which spoiled some of the views but made for other beautiful scenery.

Of Lorien, Nature and the Four Loves

I'm continuing my Lord of the Rings reread, and I have to say that this time through (this is probably the sixth or seventh time I've read them) I'm focusing on taking deeper lessons from the story instead of just reading for entertainment. Of course, participating in a LOTR book club on Monday nights with some brilliant friends only helps the cause.

One of the themes we've talked about a bit at the book club is nature. Both Tolkien and C.S. Lewis use nature as a thematic element in their fantasy stories, and both seem to have similar methods of introducing and using it.

And as it so happens, I've been thinking a lot about the role of nature in my life lately. I just returned from a wonderful vacation where I got to see both the piney splendor of the Pacific Northwest and the rocky lakeshores of the Catskill Mountains. While traveling, I began to read C.S. Lewis's The Four Loves, which includes a great section about nature. So, let me start this off with a section of The Fellowship of the Ring. The Fellowship has just emerged from the Mines of Moria and, under the leadership of Aragorn, decides to seek refuge in Lothlórien. Boromir shows some reluctance to enter the forest.

He stepped forward; but Boromir stood irresolute and did not follow. 'Is there no other way?' he said.

'What other fairer way would you desire?' said Aragorn.

'A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords,' said Boromir. 'By strange paths has this company been led, and so far to evil fortune. Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria, to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed.'

'Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth,' said Aragorn. 'But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlórien. Believe what you will, there is no other way for us – unless you would go back to Moria-gate, or scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River all alone.'

'Then lead on!' said Boromir. 'But it is perilous.'

'Perilous indeed,' said Aragorn, 'fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!'

Boromir isn't afraid to speak his mind, and speak it plainly – even if he is wrong (one of the reasons I like him, but that's another story). Boromir, subject to what must have been the Gondorian equivalent of an urban legend, believes the woods to be wicked and evil. Aragorn corrects him, noting that the woods is dangerous, but that the real danger lies within one's own heart (think Star Wars: Luke's strange cave training with Yoda).

C.S. Lewis echoes this sentiment in The Four Loves.

"If you take nature as a teacher she will teach you exactly the lessons you had already decided to learn; this is only another way of saying that nature does not teach."

Lewis suggests that Nature is a myriad of different things all at once: it's life and death. It's beautiful and terrible. It's forgiving and unforgiving. As Lewis puts it, it at once includes, "overwhelming gaiety, insupportable grandeur and sombre desolation."

But Lewis certainly doesn't suggest that Nature is without its merits. He continues:

"Nature never taught me that there exists a God of glory and of infinite majesty. I had to learn that in other ways. But nature gave the word glory a meaning for me. I still do not know where else I could have found one."

For Lewis, the lesson that Nature taught was one of God's glory. Lewis believes he never would have fully understood God's glory – or learned to fear God – without "certain ominous ravines" and "unapproachable crags." But to others, Nature appeals to the "dark gods in the blood." Though Nature can suggest glory, it presents other things, too – sex, hunger and power operate in Nature without shame.

We can certainly see this idea of nature as a "mirror" in Tolkien's Lothlórien, among other places. Boromir is right to fear the woods, because the woods will expose the fears that he carries in his heart. Tolkien's Nature, in and of itself, is not good or evil. It may reflect the good or evil present in it (as I'll note presently) or, in its natural course cause actions that seem to be good or evil, though they are neither (the foiling of the Fellowship on Caradhras).

We can see the effect of good or evil in nature if we read on to the end of the Lothlórien chapter. The Fellowship has reached Cerin Amroth, a hill with a vantage point of the surrounding lands. Frodo pauses to look out over the golden wood:

Frodo looked and saw, still at some distance, a hill of many mighty trees, or a city of green towers: which it was he could not tell. Out of it, it seemed to him that the power and light came that held all the land in sway. He longed suddenly to fly like a bird to rest in the green city. Then he looked eastward and saw all the land of Lorien running down to the pale gleam of Anduin, the Great River. He lifted his eyes across the river and all the light went out, and he was back again in the world he knew. Beyond the river the land appeared flat and empty, formless and vague, until far away it rose again like a wall, dark and drear. The sun that lay on Lothlorien had no power to enlighten the shadow of that distant height.

'There lies the fastness of Southern Mirkwood,' said Haldir. 'It is clad in a forest of dark fir, where the trees strive one against another and their branches rot and wither. In the midst upon a stony height stands Dol Guldur, where long the hidden Enemy had his dewlling. We fear now that it is inhabited again, and with power sevenfold. A black cloud lies often over it of late. In this high place you ay see the two powers that are opposed to one another; and ever they strive now in thought, but whereas the light perceives the very heart of the darkness, its own secret has not been discovered. Not yet' He turned and climbed swiftly down, and they followed him.

Nature can appear to be good or evil depending on both what is inhabiting it, and, again, depending on the perspective of the beholder. As Lewis would say, it teaches us no lessons than those we already wish to learn.

Instead, Lewis suggests we should "learn our theology and philosophy elsewhere." That we must "leave the hills and woods and go back to our studies, to church, to our Bibles, to our knees." And, in a specific note to nature lovers, Lewis continues, "Otherwise the love of nature is beginning to turn into nature religion. And then, even if it does not lead us to the Dark Gods, it will lead us to a great deal of nonsense."

I don't know about you, but to me this all makes perfect sense. I believe wholeheartedly – especially since I tend to be a "nature lover" – that the love of nature must be anchored in truth. Additionally, Tolkien's storytelling seems to back up the theological stylings of his good friend Lewis. Lothlórien is just one example.

As a parting thought: At book club on Monday we discussed Radagast, Gandalf's wizarding peer with a deep affection for nature (and possible St. Francis parallel). If Lewis suggests that a pure love of nature will, at best, lead to a "great deal of nonsense," then perhaps that's one reason why Radagast is considered a simpleton and a fool in the books.

Vacation, briefly

I don't have much time to compose a post this morning, but I thought I'd post a couple pictures from the vacation so far. It's amazingly beautiful here. The weather has been great, the travel easy, and we've seen an incredible amount of things in just a few days. We were in Yosemite National Park the last couple days and today are back in San Francisco. We're going to do some things here today (Golden Gate Bridge, etc.). Should be a fun day!

The Mariposa Grove in Yosemite National Forest:


The view from our backcountry campsite in Yosemite:


On a random dome in northern Yosemite:

Sunsets + Summer Reading

Ah, summer is finally here. I went camping last night at Yellowwood to kick off the summer properly. Since I changed the blog design the photos show up kind of small, so a reminder that if you click on them they'll expand to full- screen.

More blogging to come now that exams are done!

Everything is amazing, no one is happy

A friend sent me a link to this youtube clip of a comedian – Louis CK – on Conan the other night. I've never heard of him, though I appreciate his simple message in this clip.

My backyard

One of the reasons I moved into my current apartment was because I liked the fact that it had a nice, wooded backyard that – complete with a fire pit – that was dark at night.
Well, my landlord really hasn't turned out to be such a great guy. The place isn't so hot either. For the last couple weeks they've been doing some kind of mysterious work to the apartment downstairs (the one that always has bass coming from it, regardless of the hour) – and so this is what the backyard looks like.
This picture was inspired by the fact that the guy that my landlord hires to do stuff decided to mow today, so he just literally mowed over and around all this crap. Classic.


And here's the challenge. Can you all of these things in the photo? If you can, you win!
- Snow shovel
- (4) half-cinder blocks
- One FULL cinder block
- Croquet set
- Taco bell cup
- McDonald's cup
- Coffee mug (with coffee still in it)
- Tire
- Bag of cypress mulch
- Mysterious cable
- Empty bottle of mountain dew.

l'amour de Dieu est folie!

In France, when Easter is celebrated, there is a common phrase that is proclaimed in cathedrals, shared on sidewalks, spraypainted on walls and plastered on streetlights.

l'amour de Dieu est folie!
The love of God is foolish!
What a great phrase. Why don't we have anything like it here?
Now, we know God is infinitely wise and omnipotent. It's a bit odd to call him foolish, isn't it? It's simply foolish because we can't possibly fathom or understand God's love for us. We are broken, sinful creatures, yet God loves us. Magnificently. Spectacularly. Undeservedly. And I can think of no better time to proclaim the glory of God's foolish love for his creation than on Easter, the day of Christ's resurrection and victory over death.
1 Corinthians says it better than I ever could.

"For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written,

“I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,
and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”

Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.

- 1 Corinthians 1:18-25 (ESV)

Happy Easter!

Heed the forecast

this is what happens when you ignore the forecast and have to bike home in the pouring rain.

Of Chocolate Eggs and Jesus

In thinking about and discussing Easter lately with some friends, I was reminded of a C.S. Lewis quote that I'd seen once before but had never considered deeply.

"There is a stage in a child's life at which it cannot separate the religious from the merely festal character of Christmas or Easter. I have been told of a very small and very devout boy who was heard murmuring to himself on Easter morning a poem of his own composition which began 'Chocolate eggs and Jesus risen.' This seems to me, for his age, both admirable poetry and admirable piety. But of course the time will soon come when such a child can no longer effortlessly and spontaneously enjoy that unity. He will become able to distinguish the spiritual from the ritual and festal aspect of Easter; chocolate eggs will no longer seem sacramental. And once he has distinguished he must put one or the other first. If he puts the spiritual first he can still taste something of Easter in the chocolate eggs; if he puts the eggs first they will soon be no more than any other sweetmeat. They will have taken on an independent, and therefore a soon withering, life."

Ah, more wisdom from Clive. The type of sentimentality and expectancy Lewis describes is probably more often associated with Christmas in this modern day and age, though the lesson is just as potent for Easter.
Children don't think in abstract terms, so to the boy, the thing (chocolate) and the sign (Easter) appear to be one and the same. But the thing is ephemeral, and is consumed – while the sign survives the thing in which it was once incarnate. The boy, then, remembers Easter even when the egg is gone, and is thus faced with the choice that Lewis presents.
How then, does the boy "get back" to the time when the chocolate was both delicious and significant? Does he focus on eating more chocolate, in the hopes that the feeling will somehow return? Or does he look elsewhere for the spiritual nature that made the egg significant in the first place?
What we often mistake as a desire to "consume more eggs" is really a desire to find the divine that makes the eggs significant in the first place. One commentary on this passage uses Communion – eating the bread and drinking the wine – as a metaphor.

"If [a] person puts the spiritual first and desires to have the benefits of the death of Christ sealed to his life, he can still use the sacrament to experience this. If [he] puts the sacrament, the physical ritual of eating and drinking, first in his life, he may become a very religious person, but he will have missed the higher reality to which the sacrament is pointing." - Will Vaus, Mere Theology

I'm fully aware that this post is a bit "out there" and highly theoretical – but the main point is that we seek an understanding of the spiritual that makes our rituals significant, as opposed to engaging in rituals because we recognize that they once held some sacred meaning. Chasing the "thing," as Lewis describes, will make the eggs no longer feel sacramental.
So this Easter, I hope you have many chocolate eggs to enjoy – and I hope that they are full of the meaning and significance of Christ's death and resurrection.

Soundtrack for life

i'm totally stealing this idea from others, but here, in no particular order, are ten songs from the past few years that are played frequently on my ipod. if i was choosing a soundtrack for my life right now, these songs would probably be on it.

Keep it Together
Guster | Keep It Together
An older song, but my favorite Guster offering -- and that's saying something.

~~~

Love Will Find a Way
Delirious | Kingdom of Comfort
A favorite off Delirious' most recent album.

~~~

Death and All His Friends
Coldplay | Viva La Vida
Listen from 1:16-2:00. Enough said. Coldplay, you're onto something.

~~~

Hopipolla
Sigur Ros | Hoppipolla
Always awesome, always strangely inspiring.

~~~

Beautiful Love (Acoustic)
The Afters | Never Going Back to OK
This song is breathtaking. A beautiful, inspirational duet.

~~~

The Lighthouse's Tale
Nickel Creek | Nickel Creek
Probably the oldest song on here - but I still listen to this album all the time.

~~~

Sweetly Broken
Jeremy Riddle | Full Attention
A recent find, this song is my favorite worship song at the moment.

~~~

Ain't No Reason
Brett Dennen | So Much More
Chosen for its awesome lyrics, though most of the album is great.

~~~

Two
Ryan Adams | Easy Tiger
Another favorite off an album that gets frequent playing time.

~~~

Life is Beautiful
Vega4 | You and Others
A great accidental find, this one's currently on 'repeat' - on my ipod and in my head.

A bit more spring break stuff....

I'm on a real blogging kick here this past week... anyway, just wanted to post a couple more of my favorite photos from Florida:
This is the sandbar off of an island we stopped at for lunch one day. It was totally bird-infested. Or at least it was until we went running into their midst.


More of the birds.


There were a ton of Osprey. I thought this one was going to attack me for getting too close to its nest (the sign says "Manatee Zone, No Wake").


Plenty of sting rays, too. This was the biggest one I saw:


And lastly, might as well put one in of us actually kayaking, huh?

Off course

While in Florida this past week, I started a re-read of "Lord of the Rings." I think this will be my sixth reading of the books, but it's amazing how it never gets tiresome. The story is always rich and I always seem to find some new detail that brings me joy. Anyway, this re-read will probably trigger a rash of Tolkien-themed pots, so prepare yourselves. You've been warned.
Anyway, to set the scene: the Hobbits have just fled the Shire, ducking into the Old Forest to evade the pursuit of the black riders. They know the forest is dangerous, but believe they can make it through if they keep their wits about them, set a direction of travel and don't dally. Of course, that doesn't quite work out.

"At first their choice seemed to be good: they got along at a fair speed, though whenever they got a glimpse of the sun in an open glade they seemed unaccountably to have veered eastwards. But after a time the trees began to close in again, just where they had appeared from a distance to be
thinner and less tangled. Then deep folds in the ground were discovered unexpectedly, like the ruts of great giant-wheels or wide moats and sunken roads long disused and choked with brambles. These lay usually right across their line of march, and could only be crossed by scrambling down and out again, which was troublesome and difficult with their ponies. Each time they climbed down they found the hollow filled with thick bushes and matted undergrowth, which somehow would not yield to the left, but only gave way when they turned to the right; and they had to go some distance along the bottom before they could find a way up the further bank. Each time they clambered out, the trees seemed deeper and darker; and always to the left and upwards it was most difficult to find a way, and they were forced to the right and downwards."

This continues for a while, until the four Hobbits end up exactly where they didn't want to be: the Heart of the Old Forest. There, the magic and enchantment of the forest are strongest, and they soon find themselves in peril. Old Man Willow snatches Merry and Pippin, and Frodo and Sam's attempts to help them prove fruitless.
Isn't this just like our lives and our walks of faith? I can't put a number on the amount of times I've believed myself fully capable of doing something on my own, only to find myself hopelessly off course. We may set out on a course of action with the best intentions, but when we are reliant on ourselves we often drift farther and farther off course.
And more often than not we're not lured off course drastically. It happens one little bit at a time – just like the Hobbits found themselves slowly and unaccountably veering East. But they didn't stop – they kept going, perhaps thinking they could correct the course on their own.
The world lures us in similar ways. Take "stuff" as an example. As we graduate from college and enter into the working world, we go (hopefully) from being poor college students to having a job with a salary. And we can use that salary to get all kinds of stuff – furniture, DVDs, surround sound systems, cars, ships in bottles – you name it. Our appetite for stuff is temporarily sated, and we think we have enough. But we get used to those things. And maybe one day we get a raise. All of a sudden, we can afford nicer stuff. And why not? We've earned it, right? So we get the nicer things. We get accustomed to those, too, and our slow drift off course continues until one day we open our eyes and realize: we're not in the place we intended to be when we first set out!
The same happens to the Hobbits. They find themselves at the River Withywindle, the heart of the forest's strangeness. They soon find themselves in trouble, and Merry and Pippin are taken by Old Man Willow. Frodo and Sam try to help, but can't rescue their friends. Then Frodo takes an unexpected action:

"Frodo, without any clear idea of why he did so, or what he hoped for, ran along the path crying help! help! help! It seemed to him that he could hardly hear the sound of his own shrill voice: it was blown away from him by the willow-wind and drowned in a clamour of leaves, as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt desperate: lost and witless."

How often have we felt as Frodo did: lost and helpless in a world that is constantly trying to throw us off course. And when we reach that desperation, what do we do? We cry for help! And there is an answer!
Frodo's answer comes from Tom Bombadil (a mysterious figure who isn't worth delving into in depth in this post, because it would take far too many words), who – by some divine mistake or providence – claims he just happened to be in the neighborhood. Tom rights the wrongs, gets the Hobbits back on their feet and sets them back on the path with clear direction. The Hobbits escape the peril.
When we find ourselves off course, we too should ask for help – because it will come. And instead of being self-reliant, believing ourselves strong and capable enough to set our own course through life, we should ask for help before we find ourselves hopelessly lost and in trouble. And where does our help come from?

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
- Psalm 121:1-2

The Lord will rescue us, put us back on our feet and set us on the right path.

"And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left."
- Isaiah 30:21

Here's to staying on course.

THA NK YOU FOR ISITIN GTHE GV SSOM AEROPLE X

I'm currently up near Kokomo, Indiana at a training session put on by the Indiana Department of Homeland Security. The session is "Introduction to Emergency Management," and covers a lot of the basics of emergency management, including the various functions and phases. I don't know how I fit in to all of this exactly (career-wise), but I know it's good to be here learning and making these connections. Most of the people here are much older than I am – of the 40 people here, 33 are probably white men in their 50 – and all of them have more things on their belt and flashing lights on their SUVs and trucks than me.

The class is at the dilapidated, somewhat-melancholy Grissom Joint Air Reserve Base (named for Gus Grissom). A few decades ago, the base must have had a thriving little community. It was originally a training and testing base, and has been greatly downsized in the last decade. One of the guys at the training is a local – "grew up just on the other side of that fence there," as he says – and talks about how he used to come onto the base to play with the military kids. It feels a lot more like a ghost town. Really, this picture says it all.

The base isn't entirely inoperative – there's still a squadron of KC-135 refueling planes that operates out of the base, and it's also been opened to civic use. The base might have been closed were it not for an accident that occured in 1964, when a B-58 (a supersonic bomber) skidded off the runway with five nuclear devices.

"On December 8, 1964, during a routine Operational Readiness Inspection, a B-58 strategic bomber skidded off the runway) at Bunker Hill AFB, IN (later named Grissom Air Force Base). The consequence of the accident was a fire and destruction of five nuclear weapons on the aircraft. The high explosives in the weapons did not detonate, but melted and burned, leaving some residual radioactive contamination in soils adjacent to the runway. The contaminated area was excavated and buried along with the aircraft wreckage at a different location on base. In June 1996, the Air Force Safety Center conducted a review of both classified and unclassified documents in its possession and concluded that sufficient data did not exist to support closure of the site. Since that time, the State of Indiana and this organization performed small- scale scoping surveys that identified a small area with elevated gamma radiation exposure levels. Soil samples collected from the area indicated the presence of depleted uranium."

Oops. Anyway, I guess that's a good reason to not close the base. Back in Bloomington tomorrow!

Welcome, Spring

Can I just say I'm incredibly happy that spring is here? These crocuses (they kind of remind me of simbelmyne) have sprouted in incredibly rapid fashion in my backyard over the past few days. They're now everywhere.

"Steadfast love and faithfulness meet;
righteousness and peace kiss each other.
Faithfulness springs up from the ground,
and righteousness looks down from the sky.
Yes, the Lord will give what is good,
and our land will yield its increase.
Righteousness will go before him
and make his footsteps a way."

- Psalm 85:10-13

Riding through life on a surfboard with God

I can't believe I've never written about this before. There are, in life, certain things – books, sermons, moments or people – that shape who we are. They're unique to each of us, and we can always revisit them, relearning the lessons we've learned before.
In high school, my Young Life leader shared a sermon with a small group of us that has had a profound impact on my life. It's given by a pastor named Bruce Thielemann, from Pittsburgh, and judging by the manner of speaking and the references in the sermon, it's probably from the early 80's. It's loosely based around Acts 5.
Thielemann begins his sermon in this way:

"I'm deeply and personally convinced that the Christian life is to be an exciting and a joyous experience. I think we are to be living lives which are thrilling to behold, exciting to watch, ennobling, enkindling, enabling, enthusiastic. That is what the Christian life is supposed to be."

I love it. Thielemann goes on to discuss the counsel given by Gamaliel, a Pharisee, in Acts 5. In the passage, the citizenry become enraged by the teaching of the Apostles, and want to kill them. Gamamiel, who was "held in honor by all people," stood up and dispensed his wisdom to the crowd. With apologies for the paraphrasing, here's what he said: "People, I know you're upset ... but the best thing we can do is.... nothing."
Sound advice? It seems logical, and, to steal from Frodo, "would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart." Do nothing? Make no decision, take no risk? The problem is that doing nothing is all too common an answer for the Pharisees.
Thielemann then uses the words of surfing legend Phil Edwards to describe those who, like the Pharisees, do nothing.

"There is a need in all of us for controlled danger. That is, there is a need for an activity that puts us on the edge of life. There are uncounted millions of people, right now, who are going through life without any sort of real vibrant kick. I call them the legions of the unjazzed."

The legions of the unjazzed. To keep with the surfing metaphor, as Thielemann does, these are the people who never get out into the big waves. Maybe they splash around in the shallows. Maybe they play in the puddles, like C.S. Lewis describes. Maybe they can build the best sandcastles on the beach, but the fact remains that they're avoiding something bigger. Thielemann
"If you're going to get out to where the big waves are, you can expect to be beaten up a little bit," Thieleman continues. It's true, we get tossed around and beaten up when we take get into the deep water. We'll frequently get slammed against the ocean floor – tossed and turned by the turbulent power of the waves. It's a rough and experience, but one that locks you into being alive. The disciples in Acts 5 are living this out in living by faith. They're out in the big waves.
Thielemann concludes with a wonderful descriptive passage, and it would not do anyone service for me to paraphrase it.

"When you get into one of the truly big waves off the islands of the Pacific, there is a time when if you ride the wave properly, you can crest the curl, and coming down the other side turn into the wave so that the wave curls over your head. In that moment you find yourself in a tunnel of water. It swirls all about you, like a whirling green cathedral. The water above is most thin, and the sunlight coming down spangles it so that it looks like green diamonds. And it's absolutely silent in there; you cannot hear a sound. And if you want to, you can lean back against the wall of water behind you, and it lifts you and carries you like a pillow. Now you can never know that, what it's like to be carried, what it's like to be in a whirling green cathedral, what it's like to have life spangled with diamonds -- you can never know that until you move into the midst of the wave, until you say 'yes' to God's dares."

Amen. May our faith teach us to lean into the waves of life, meeting the challenges that are before us. May we always be riding through life on a surfboard with God.
((I have an MP3 of this entire sermon, and if you'd like to listen, please let me know.))

Quinzee!

No, Quinzee isn't a new take on Yahtzee. A quinzee is a type of snow survival shelter – something you could make if you were stranded in the snowy tundra of ... say, Dunn Meadow for a few days.

Basically, you make a huge pile of snow – the bigger, the better – let it sit and sinter for a few hours and then dig out the middle, making a sort of igloo/sow cave combination shelter. It was actually quite warm inside, and you probably could have slept three people in the shelter we built. As it was, we had five of us sitting inside fairly comfortably at once.

Anyway, pictures:

Sawtelle

I laid awake for a good hour last night after I turned the light off. I'd just finished reading "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle," by Dave Wroblewski, and my mind just wouldn't shut off.

It's a great book, and I highly recommend reading it. There are the obvious undertones of "Hamlet," but Wroblewski's writing also seems to combine the traits of some of my favorite American writers – John Steinbeck, Richard Adams and John Irving.

Wroblewski's writing waxes poetic – he's wonderful at describing things in a way you haven't quite heard before. His best writing is about abstract concepts, though, and I particularly enjoy the few chapters that are about the family's dog, Almondine. Her loyalty and devotion are touching. I don't want to give much away, but here's a passage from a chapter about her from late in the book:

"She had learned, in her life, that time lived inside you. You are time, you breathe time. When she'd been young, she'd had an insatiable hunger for more of it, though she hadn't understood why. Now she held inside her a cacophony of times and lately it drowned out the world. The apple tree was still nice to lie near. The peony, for its scent, was also fine. When she walked through the woods (infrequently now) she picked her way along the path, making way for the boy inside to run along before her. It could be hard to choose the time outside over the time within. There was still work to do, of course. The young ones in the barn knew so little and she had taught so many before. It hardly seemed worth trying when she was asked, though she did."