Dr. Livingston disappeared in Africa. Or was it Dr. Stanley? I can never remember. The point is that he wasn't really missing just completely out of touch with the rest of the world. Africa tends to swallow up communications that way. Its a big continent and the tin cans and string don't reach very far. This is all preamble to say that by this time next week, I will be in Kenya and you won't be hearing from me for a while. Don't panic. Exploratory missions to Africa to find me are not necessary. I shall return.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has in some way contributed to this adventure. Some have donated money. Some have donated time. Many have donated prayers. I cherish and value all of your contributions and hope that they somehow translate into better lives for the street children of Kenya.
God be with you all.
Will Robison
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
A Great Story In Need Of Editing...
My second book review in as many days brings me a little closer to home. Last night, I finished reading what my sister had given me for Christmas - the first 41 chapters of her first novel (they're short chapters and the book is near the end). I have to admit that I hated where she left the book because it was right after the most emotional part of the story, but given that bias, I'm still going to tell you what a wonderful book it is.
The book is titled, "The Exhausted Women's Club," and its about four women from different places in life coming together to find friendship in the midst of their exhausting lives. Because this book is not yet finished and not yet published, I'm going to leave the synopsis vague. We need to preserve its money making potential, after all.
I've been writing since Halloween of my Second Grade year - which is a really long time. Almost since the moment I first fell into writing, I've known that it was what I was meant to do. But that doesn't mean it comes easy or that I'm particularly good at it. When I read my sister's writing, it is a constant reminder that I'm really not that good. She, on the other hand, is phenomenal. She's wasted in lawyering. She needs to be published.
She's made some rookie mistakes so far - but nothing that can't be fixed with rigorous editing. After muddling through some of the main story elements, she has moments of pure genius. Just as I was starting to fear that her story was going down the road of mediocrity, for instance, her last three chapters whopped an incredible true life emotional punch that had me in tears. It made me very confident that the rest of the story could be saved and that it would be quite the number one best seller.
It's not every day I get to review a book that isn't even finished yet - especially one that I haven't written. So its quite a treat for me to not only review this book, but to recommend it to all. My sister's book will be one that you hear about for years to come and one hell of a great movie as well.
Now if she'd only hurry and send me more of the book. I need to find out how this whole thing ends!
(P.S. I'd like to recommend Meryl Streep as Amber's mother - I know its a small part, but it needs someone of her gravitas, and besides, Meryl Streep sells movies!)
The book is titled, "The Exhausted Women's Club," and its about four women from different places in life coming together to find friendship in the midst of their exhausting lives. Because this book is not yet finished and not yet published, I'm going to leave the synopsis vague. We need to preserve its money making potential, after all.
I've been writing since Halloween of my Second Grade year - which is a really long time. Almost since the moment I first fell into writing, I've known that it was what I was meant to do. But that doesn't mean it comes easy or that I'm particularly good at it. When I read my sister's writing, it is a constant reminder that I'm really not that good. She, on the other hand, is phenomenal. She's wasted in lawyering. She needs to be published.
She's made some rookie mistakes so far - but nothing that can't be fixed with rigorous editing. After muddling through some of the main story elements, she has moments of pure genius. Just as I was starting to fear that her story was going down the road of mediocrity, for instance, her last three chapters whopped an incredible true life emotional punch that had me in tears. It made me very confident that the rest of the story could be saved and that it would be quite the number one best seller.
It's not every day I get to review a book that isn't even finished yet - especially one that I haven't written. So its quite a treat for me to not only review this book, but to recommend it to all. My sister's book will be one that you hear about for years to come and one hell of a great movie as well.
Now if she'd only hurry and send me more of the book. I need to find out how this whole thing ends!
(P.S. I'd like to recommend Meryl Streep as Amber's mother - I know its a small part, but it needs someone of her gravitas, and besides, Meryl Streep sells movies!)
Monday, January 25, 2010
A match made in Heaven...
This is not a typical book review because I honestly don't know how anyone else would react to this book. The point of this blog is to point out that sometimes we are pre-composed towards something and that, therefore, any review of the material should be taken with the extreme bias already destined.
As a combined Christmas/Traveling present, Andy from A Mile From The Beach showed up at my house a couple of weeks ago with a book. He wanted me to read it on the plane. He said, "This book is really you, Will. I know it will speak to you." Now, having been told that a million times before from a thousand different people, I took the recommendation with its implied meaning - I think you'll really like this book.
The book is Donald Miller's latest book, "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years." At its primal level, the book is a "sequel" to Donald Miller's best-selling "Blue Like Jazz". It begins with Donald Miller being contacted by a couple of film makers who want to turn Blue Like Jazz into a film, but as part of the process, they begin discussing ways to re-write the largely autobiographical story in such a way as to make it into a good film. Donald Miller sees the process as akin to editing and rewriting his life's story.
As I didn't want to travel with too many books, I decided that I'd read this book before I flew to Kenya. Its not a very long book - 200+ pages. Even for me, I knew I should finish it before I left. So for the first week or so I waded into it - reading about five chapters in a week. It was good, but it wasn't really connecting.
As anyone who regularly reads this blog could tell you, I've been struggling lately with finding answers to questions about my own life. Where I was going to go from here and what all the various things in my life were leading to. Added to this were questions I posed about my faith journey and about my trip to Kenya. Then there were dozens of other questions in my head about things that I've never had the time to blog about. Lots and lots of questions with very few answers. If there's one thing my faith journey has taught me though, its patience. God answers in his own time and in his own way.
This Saturday the weather created a situation where all my plans were canceled. I had about two hours to kill waiting to head off to a Basketball game and there was absolutely nothing on television. So, I curled up on my bed, got nice and comfortable under my blankets, and grabbed Donald Miller's book. I figured I could get a few chapters out of the way, maybe take a nap, or whatever...
I finished reading it. Couldn't put it down to be precise. One by one, in answer to my many prayers, Donald Miller answered every single one of the questions in my head. When Andy said that this book would speak to me, he had been right on the money. It was like Donald Miller had crawled inside my head, found my deepest level of questions, and then been given the answers to those questions. This wasn't just a book, it was an answer to prayer. Whether Donald Miller knew it, he was writing this book to me.
Of course, God knew what He was doing. He seemed to offer these words of wisdom to Donald Miller and had him write them down and get them published. It would be arrogant to assume that the book was meant intentionally for me, but boy did it speak to me in ways that nothing else ever has.
Now, I want to clarify something here. I've found other things inspirational before. I've read things that made me want to visit foreign countries, or be a better person, or what have you, but I've never read anything like this. I didn't immediately jump up from my bed with a plan of action. I didn't immediately vow to travel or to save the world or anything. I can't really say that reading this book worked like that for me. Its well written and certainly inspirational, but to me it was more like an oracle. Ask your question and get an answer meant only for your ears - an answer that makes you think, not one that makes you leap into danger.
As a result, I've begun to more clearly see my path. All has not yet been revealed to me about what my future has in store for me, but the context of that future has been illuminated. I may not know what will happen in Kenya, but at least I understand why I'm going and to what purpose God has sent me.
So Andy... sorry, I'd like to give you credit for knowing me so well, but the fact of the matter is even you could not have suspected how deeply profoundly this book would have affected me. You were inspired to give me this book just as Donald Miller was inspired to write it. God used you as a messenger. And to that extent, you should be very humble and thank God, as I shall for your part in this tale.
(As an addendum, I totally 100% recommend this book to all people, but especially to writers and film makers - even I learned some new tricks about story from it. But I also recommend it to anyone who is currently searching through life for some way to become better connected or to be better utilized by the world. This book won't make the hard work go away, but it will make you want to tackle that hard work with gusto.)
(As an additional addendum - Donald Miller - You Rock!)
As a combined Christmas/Traveling present, Andy from A Mile From The Beach showed up at my house a couple of weeks ago with a book. He wanted me to read it on the plane. He said, "This book is really you, Will. I know it will speak to you." Now, having been told that a million times before from a thousand different people, I took the recommendation with its implied meaning - I think you'll really like this book.
The book is Donald Miller's latest book, "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years." At its primal level, the book is a "sequel" to Donald Miller's best-selling "Blue Like Jazz". It begins with Donald Miller being contacted by a couple of film makers who want to turn Blue Like Jazz into a film, but as part of the process, they begin discussing ways to re-write the largely autobiographical story in such a way as to make it into a good film. Donald Miller sees the process as akin to editing and rewriting his life's story.
As I didn't want to travel with too many books, I decided that I'd read this book before I flew to Kenya. Its not a very long book - 200+ pages. Even for me, I knew I should finish it before I left. So for the first week or so I waded into it - reading about five chapters in a week. It was good, but it wasn't really connecting.
As anyone who regularly reads this blog could tell you, I've been struggling lately with finding answers to questions about my own life. Where I was going to go from here and what all the various things in my life were leading to. Added to this were questions I posed about my faith journey and about my trip to Kenya. Then there were dozens of other questions in my head about things that I've never had the time to blog about. Lots and lots of questions with very few answers. If there's one thing my faith journey has taught me though, its patience. God answers in his own time and in his own way.
This Saturday the weather created a situation where all my plans were canceled. I had about two hours to kill waiting to head off to a Basketball game and there was absolutely nothing on television. So, I curled up on my bed, got nice and comfortable under my blankets, and grabbed Donald Miller's book. I figured I could get a few chapters out of the way, maybe take a nap, or whatever...
I finished reading it. Couldn't put it down to be precise. One by one, in answer to my many prayers, Donald Miller answered every single one of the questions in my head. When Andy said that this book would speak to me, he had been right on the money. It was like Donald Miller had crawled inside my head, found my deepest level of questions, and then been given the answers to those questions. This wasn't just a book, it was an answer to prayer. Whether Donald Miller knew it, he was writing this book to me.
Of course, God knew what He was doing. He seemed to offer these words of wisdom to Donald Miller and had him write them down and get them published. It would be arrogant to assume that the book was meant intentionally for me, but boy did it speak to me in ways that nothing else ever has.
Now, I want to clarify something here. I've found other things inspirational before. I've read things that made me want to visit foreign countries, or be a better person, or what have you, but I've never read anything like this. I didn't immediately jump up from my bed with a plan of action. I didn't immediately vow to travel or to save the world or anything. I can't really say that reading this book worked like that for me. Its well written and certainly inspirational, but to me it was more like an oracle. Ask your question and get an answer meant only for your ears - an answer that makes you think, not one that makes you leap into danger.
As a result, I've begun to more clearly see my path. All has not yet been revealed to me about what my future has in store for me, but the context of that future has been illuminated. I may not know what will happen in Kenya, but at least I understand why I'm going and to what purpose God has sent me.
So Andy... sorry, I'd like to give you credit for knowing me so well, but the fact of the matter is even you could not have suspected how deeply profoundly this book would have affected me. You were inspired to give me this book just as Donald Miller was inspired to write it. God used you as a messenger. And to that extent, you should be very humble and thank God, as I shall for your part in this tale.
(As an addendum, I totally 100% recommend this book to all people, but especially to writers and film makers - even I learned some new tricks about story from it. But I also recommend it to anyone who is currently searching through life for some way to become better connected or to be better utilized by the world. This book won't make the hard work go away, but it will make you want to tackle that hard work with gusto.)
(As an additional addendum - Donald Miller - You Rock!)
Friday, January 22, 2010
A Tale of Two Root Canals
As preamble, my first experience with a dentist was at a health clinic. I was maybe 7 or 8. The dentist, who meant well, decided to give me some fillings. Though he numbed me up, I still felt incredible pain. When I told him that I was in pain, he assumed that I was a scared kid and that I was making it up. After that, I wanted nothing to do with dentists. It turns out that part of my incredible physiology that generally keeps me in good health also makes me incredibly hard to dope up. Had the dentist simply listened to me, he would have discovered this for himself.
Jump ahead about eight years. I was 16 and I was in love. After months of daydreaming, I finally decided to do something about it. On Sunday, during church, I wrote a long letter to the object of my affection telling her how I felt. That night, as I contemplated giving her the letter the next day at school, I bit into a popcorn kernel and my mouth exploded in pain.
Two days later, I had to leave school early for my first dentist appointment with Dr. Paine at UCSF - a dental school. Just before I left for the appointment, I cornered the love of my life and handed her the letter. I told her to open it later, then I walked to UCSF. During the entire walk, I anticipated her reading the letter and all of her possible reactions. As I waited in the waiting room, I imagined her pleasure at reading my letter, or the pain of being rejected. As they took x-rays and told me I needed a root canal, my mind was fully focused on my impending new girlfriend and all the wonderful things life had in store for us. As they numbed me up... and numbed me up... and continued numbing me until you could have given me a jaw transplant without my realizing it, I prepared my conversation with the girl the next day and started figuring out what to get her for Valentines Day which was less than a week away. They drilled, poked, prodded, and did all sorts of painful things in my mouth - but I could have cared less. I didn't even realize that four hours had passed when they finally told me I was done and sent me on my way.
To make a long story short, she said yes and six wonderful years of love followed that.
Jump ahead to just a couple of weeks ago. I was eating salad (popcorn... salad... clearly its the healthy things that cause us so much pain ;) when, once again, fireworks. This time I went to Dr. Karo at Sears Dental clinic in Tanforan. (She's pretty awesome... while doing dental work she's talking about Alicia Keys with her dental assistant. Nice, easy going, and numbed me up good ;) Now, as I'm getting poked and prodded and rooted, my mind is elsewhere once again. This time, I'm in Kenya - although, more specifically, my mind is wandering down dark paths. I'm worried about the trip. I'm worried about the airline. I'm worried about all the hundreds of things that can go wrong.
And then, she starts in with the drill. My mind instantly reverts to that 8 year old mindset. I cling to the chair like its a life preserver. I brace for the impact of mindnumbing pain. It never arrives. And I'm left scrunched up on the dental chair like I was a victim of electro-shock therapy and nothing happened. As the relief of being pain free washed over me, I suddenly had a loud and clear thought, "Compared to this, what can possibly go wrong in Kenya?"
I started laughing. How silly of me? Real life is so often nothing like the horrors that we imagine, but also nothing like the triumphs we hope for. Still, its far better in life to imagine the good things than the bad, to hope for positive outcomes than to anticipate negative ones.
I'd been avoiding dentists because of hard earned pain avoidance fears. In the end, the pain had come and it had probably been much worse than it would have been had I been taking it in smaller doses all along. The first time I'd encountered this pain, I hardly noticed because I was to in love to care. The second time I encountered this pain, I realized that the real pain in my mouth was far worse than the imagined pain of a million possible outcomes. Instead of bracing myself for inevitable pain, I should embrace the future for all its possible joys.
My anxiety for the trip has subsided as fast as the pain from dental surgery (yet another advantage to my physiology is that I very rarely suffer from lingering pain - I just heal too darn fast). In less than two weeks I'll be boarding that flight with my eyes open and my heart ready to embrace all the wonderfulness of God's world.
Now I only have to figure out how to smuggle a baby lion back to San Francisco in my luggage. ;)
Jump ahead about eight years. I was 16 and I was in love. After months of daydreaming, I finally decided to do something about it. On Sunday, during church, I wrote a long letter to the object of my affection telling her how I felt. That night, as I contemplated giving her the letter the next day at school, I bit into a popcorn kernel and my mouth exploded in pain.
Two days later, I had to leave school early for my first dentist appointment with Dr. Paine at UCSF - a dental school. Just before I left for the appointment, I cornered the love of my life and handed her the letter. I told her to open it later, then I walked to UCSF. During the entire walk, I anticipated her reading the letter and all of her possible reactions. As I waited in the waiting room, I imagined her pleasure at reading my letter, or the pain of being rejected. As they took x-rays and told me I needed a root canal, my mind was fully focused on my impending new girlfriend and all the wonderful things life had in store for us. As they numbed me up... and numbed me up... and continued numbing me until you could have given me a jaw transplant without my realizing it, I prepared my conversation with the girl the next day and started figuring out what to get her for Valentines Day which was less than a week away. They drilled, poked, prodded, and did all sorts of painful things in my mouth - but I could have cared less. I didn't even realize that four hours had passed when they finally told me I was done and sent me on my way.
To make a long story short, she said yes and six wonderful years of love followed that.
Jump ahead to just a couple of weeks ago. I was eating salad (popcorn... salad... clearly its the healthy things that cause us so much pain ;) when, once again, fireworks. This time I went to Dr. Karo at Sears Dental clinic in Tanforan. (She's pretty awesome... while doing dental work she's talking about Alicia Keys with her dental assistant. Nice, easy going, and numbed me up good ;) Now, as I'm getting poked and prodded and rooted, my mind is elsewhere once again. This time, I'm in Kenya - although, more specifically, my mind is wandering down dark paths. I'm worried about the trip. I'm worried about the airline. I'm worried about all the hundreds of things that can go wrong.
And then, she starts in with the drill. My mind instantly reverts to that 8 year old mindset. I cling to the chair like its a life preserver. I brace for the impact of mindnumbing pain. It never arrives. And I'm left scrunched up on the dental chair like I was a victim of electro-shock therapy and nothing happened. As the relief of being pain free washed over me, I suddenly had a loud and clear thought, "Compared to this, what can possibly go wrong in Kenya?"
I started laughing. How silly of me? Real life is so often nothing like the horrors that we imagine, but also nothing like the triumphs we hope for. Still, its far better in life to imagine the good things than the bad, to hope for positive outcomes than to anticipate negative ones.
I'd been avoiding dentists because of hard earned pain avoidance fears. In the end, the pain had come and it had probably been much worse than it would have been had I been taking it in smaller doses all along. The first time I'd encountered this pain, I hardly noticed because I was to in love to care. The second time I encountered this pain, I realized that the real pain in my mouth was far worse than the imagined pain of a million possible outcomes. Instead of bracing myself for inevitable pain, I should embrace the future for all its possible joys.
My anxiety for the trip has subsided as fast as the pain from dental surgery (yet another advantage to my physiology is that I very rarely suffer from lingering pain - I just heal too darn fast). In less than two weeks I'll be boarding that flight with my eyes open and my heart ready to embrace all the wonderfulness of God's world.
Now I only have to figure out how to smuggle a baby lion back to San Francisco in my luggage. ;)
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Where do I go from here?
I'm ready to leave it all behind, to start fresh, to start anew, to end one way of being and embrace another. But I am scared. The road ahead is filled with potential - potential danger, potential dead ends, potential roadblocks, potential bandits, but also potential for great reward, greater understanding, and greater meaning. I'm fast approaching a watershed moment in my life, one that may well set me on my final course.
I'm not talking specifically about Kenya, though certainly that is a part of it - even if its more of a symptom than an actual cure. I have reached a sort of plateau in my religious walk. When I turn around I can see the long path I've already walked. The view from up here is fine, but there is still a long way to go. I'm tired though. How much further can I really expect to go without a full commitment? Just how close do I really want to walk with Jesus? Opening myself up even more means leaving more of ME behind and embracing more of Him. I've progressed far enough to at least understand the choice in front of me, but that doesn't make the choosing any easier. I want this thought to be clear before I head off to Kenya. I haven't made up my mind as to which path I will travel from here. I'm not running off to Kenya as a way to embrace some sort of missionary role for my life. I am merely going because I was called. And if called again, I will go again. But if I'm not called, if I don't have a transformational experience in Kenya, I'm not sure where my life will go next.
I feel as if I've reached a point where the life of experimentation is over. I've tried a bunch of different lifestyles now. I've lived in a bunch of places. I've traveled to a bunch more. I've seen life in its infinite variety, almost all that it has to offer me. I feel as if my next choice in life ought to be more about sustainability than about exploration. Whatever comes next should be part and parcel of me settling down into a path that I intend to continue until death. It's time to take all that I have learned, tried, and become and use it to complete some sort of task - and to settle into a life from that.
I'm ready to embrace change, but not just for change's sake. I don't want to rush off to try something new. I want to go someplace to begin a new permanent life - in as much as anything in life can be permanent. I'm ready to settle down, roll up my sleeves, and only look to the horizon to see what might be coming towards me - not to imagine what might be beyond. The Prodigal Son is ready to become the Son Who Stayed Behind. I've seen the world. I've embraced it. I will carry it with me wherever I go. But I'm ready to find true adventure in the establishment of a home - a roof, but also a place that welcomes me and allows me to define myself.
After Kenya, my journey home begins.
I'm not talking specifically about Kenya, though certainly that is a part of it - even if its more of a symptom than an actual cure. I have reached a sort of plateau in my religious walk. When I turn around I can see the long path I've already walked. The view from up here is fine, but there is still a long way to go. I'm tired though. How much further can I really expect to go without a full commitment? Just how close do I really want to walk with Jesus? Opening myself up even more means leaving more of ME behind and embracing more of Him. I've progressed far enough to at least understand the choice in front of me, but that doesn't make the choosing any easier. I want this thought to be clear before I head off to Kenya. I haven't made up my mind as to which path I will travel from here. I'm not running off to Kenya as a way to embrace some sort of missionary role for my life. I am merely going because I was called. And if called again, I will go again. But if I'm not called, if I don't have a transformational experience in Kenya, I'm not sure where my life will go next.
I feel as if I've reached a point where the life of experimentation is over. I've tried a bunch of different lifestyles now. I've lived in a bunch of places. I've traveled to a bunch more. I've seen life in its infinite variety, almost all that it has to offer me. I feel as if my next choice in life ought to be more about sustainability than about exploration. Whatever comes next should be part and parcel of me settling down into a path that I intend to continue until death. It's time to take all that I have learned, tried, and become and use it to complete some sort of task - and to settle into a life from that.
I'm ready to embrace change, but not just for change's sake. I don't want to rush off to try something new. I want to go someplace to begin a new permanent life - in as much as anything in life can be permanent. I'm ready to settle down, roll up my sleeves, and only look to the horizon to see what might be coming towards me - not to imagine what might be beyond. The Prodigal Son is ready to become the Son Who Stayed Behind. I've seen the world. I've embraced it. I will carry it with me wherever I go. But I'm ready to find true adventure in the establishment of a home - a roof, but also a place that welcomes me and allows me to define myself.
After Kenya, my journey home begins.
Friday, January 15, 2010
A Visit To The Temple
I went to the local temple yesterday hoping for a quick blessing and maybe a benediction. But after checking in, an acolyte came and got me. She took me to a small room and had me lie down on a cot and then began examining me.
As I opened myself to her, she used a mirror and a small pen light to see in the dark spaces inside my head. Though she was wearing a mask, I could tell that she was frowning.
"How often do you pray?" she asked me.
I couldn't remember the last time. I pretended to not hear her. She took that as an admission.
"Looks like you've got some sin in here," she said, poking around with her sharp stick. "That's going to have to come out."
She went and got the priest. The priest arrived and bent over me and looked inside. She had a kind face, but she was also very perceptive. She poked one of my sins gently and asked me whether it hurt. It did.
She talked to her acolyte for a second then came back and lowered the light over me.
"First I'm going to have to numb your pain," she said.
She put something that tasted like hot coal in my mouth and a warmth spread over me. Then she brought out a sharp drill and began hacking away at my inner depths, removing sin from me. It screamed while it was being attacked. A high-pitched whine that frightened me. I grabbed hold of the cots sides and held on for dear life. The priest smiled at me and asked whether I was in pain, but I admitted that I was not in pain. It was the anticipation of pain that made me imagine the worst sort of searing fire and the gnashing of teeth. As every chunk of sin was removed, I remembered how it had been made and I realized what a fool I'd been all along.
Before I knew it, the priest was done. She put down her pointy tool and smiled.
"How do you feel?"
My sin was gone and so was my pain. I felt lighter. I felt a fire rekindling in me. I smiled back. Though I had imagined the worst sort of pain in the removal of sin, in fact, there had been no pain at all except the pain I had brought in with me.
"Good," she said. Then she washed away the remains of my sin and told me to spit them out.
"Now, I want you to pray daily," she explained. "And take care not to sin again. As much I enjoy your visits, I'd much rather you come here and we can just talk - maybe the occasional cleansing, but that's about it."
I got out of that cot and thanked her and the acolyte profusely and then I went on my way feeling like I'd been reborn.
As I opened myself to her, she used a mirror and a small pen light to see in the dark spaces inside my head. Though she was wearing a mask, I could tell that she was frowning.
"How often do you pray?" she asked me.
I couldn't remember the last time. I pretended to not hear her. She took that as an admission.
"Looks like you've got some sin in here," she said, poking around with her sharp stick. "That's going to have to come out."
She went and got the priest. The priest arrived and bent over me and looked inside. She had a kind face, but she was also very perceptive. She poked one of my sins gently and asked me whether it hurt. It did.
She talked to her acolyte for a second then came back and lowered the light over me.
"First I'm going to have to numb your pain," she said.
She put something that tasted like hot coal in my mouth and a warmth spread over me. Then she brought out a sharp drill and began hacking away at my inner depths, removing sin from me. It screamed while it was being attacked. A high-pitched whine that frightened me. I grabbed hold of the cots sides and held on for dear life. The priest smiled at me and asked whether I was in pain, but I admitted that I was not in pain. It was the anticipation of pain that made me imagine the worst sort of searing fire and the gnashing of teeth. As every chunk of sin was removed, I remembered how it had been made and I realized what a fool I'd been all along.
Before I knew it, the priest was done. She put down her pointy tool and smiled.
"How do you feel?"
My sin was gone and so was my pain. I felt lighter. I felt a fire rekindling in me. I smiled back. Though I had imagined the worst sort of pain in the removal of sin, in fact, there had been no pain at all except the pain I had brought in with me.
"Good," she said. Then she washed away the remains of my sin and told me to spit them out.
"Now, I want you to pray daily," she explained. "And take care not to sin again. As much I enjoy your visits, I'd much rather you come here and we can just talk - maybe the occasional cleansing, but that's about it."
I got out of that cot and thanked her and the acolyte profusely and then I went on my way feeling like I'd been reborn.
Monday, January 11, 2010
I'm trying to steer clear of politics, but...
I found this excellent article in the NY Times that says that filibusters in the Senate are unconstitutional. I have to admit this article is extremely thought-provoking. But I wonder if it would have been written five years ago? Anyway, check it out... at this site.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Touched by angels...
Last night, feeling pretty low, I was raised up by the Holy Spirit. Praise be to God.
After a long and hard day at work (long week actually), I showed up at church last night for Bell Choir practice and was greeted with a card. The card, signed by the entire choir, reminded me that God would be with me on my journey to Africa next month. It also included a generous donation to the trip. I admit to being shocked.
In my life I've done many things on behalf of God. I've been on youth missions. I've led youth missions. I've built playgrounds, helped flood victims, and tried, always, to help my fellow brothers and sisters on this great planet. In all that time, I've embraced the challenges and the hardships as just another part of life - not unlike taking out the trash or making my bed or going to church on Sunday. It was something that was done not for kudos or payment or out of any fear of bad karma. It was something that was done because it was necessary and needed. As a result, I've never felt any sort of honor particularly attached with these tasks. It would be like taking a victory lap because you changed the oil in your car, or feeling smug because you did the laundry. While useful and helpful, these sorts of obligations to our fellow human beings should be de rigeur, not special.
Of course, I know that not everyone is willing to give up a Saturday to build a playground or an evening to play the part of a wise man in the Nativity Story. But not everyone does the dishes or dusts or cleans the shower and yet somehow these tasks get done. We all have our part to play in the greater scheme of things. So to take honor for doing something that somebody else didn't do misses the point entirely. We all do something. We all contribute.
So, I was shocked. Pleased, to be certain, but shocked. I was touched that these people would choose to honor me for making this trip to Africa on their behalf, but confused as to why I was being honored in this way, at this time, for something that might be a bit more complicated than making coffee on Sunday mornings but that, in its essence, was exactly the same task. I thanked everyone for the card and the gift and pledged to share both the sentiments and the gift with the others taking the journey.
Later, however, it hit me. Though I was highly honored by this gift, it had not been intended for me. The gift was mine, but the honor belonged to God. These people were showing their faith, love, and hope in God by helping me to do His work. I was merely the recipient of the gift. And that feeling made me humble and all the more honored. God was entrusting me with His gift. He was letting me feel one tiny iota of the praise that He rightfully deserves.
If this is to be the sort of lesson that I am to learn on this trip, I'm not sure I can wait for it to begin. But if I have learned anything already, I don't need to go to Africa to be touched by angels. They are all around me and their touches are profound and filled with God's love.
Have a blessed weekend.
After a long and hard day at work (long week actually), I showed up at church last night for Bell Choir practice and was greeted with a card. The card, signed by the entire choir, reminded me that God would be with me on my journey to Africa next month. It also included a generous donation to the trip. I admit to being shocked.
In my life I've done many things on behalf of God. I've been on youth missions. I've led youth missions. I've built playgrounds, helped flood victims, and tried, always, to help my fellow brothers and sisters on this great planet. In all that time, I've embraced the challenges and the hardships as just another part of life - not unlike taking out the trash or making my bed or going to church on Sunday. It was something that was done not for kudos or payment or out of any fear of bad karma. It was something that was done because it was necessary and needed. As a result, I've never felt any sort of honor particularly attached with these tasks. It would be like taking a victory lap because you changed the oil in your car, or feeling smug because you did the laundry. While useful and helpful, these sorts of obligations to our fellow human beings should be de rigeur, not special.
Of course, I know that not everyone is willing to give up a Saturday to build a playground or an evening to play the part of a wise man in the Nativity Story. But not everyone does the dishes or dusts or cleans the shower and yet somehow these tasks get done. We all have our part to play in the greater scheme of things. So to take honor for doing something that somebody else didn't do misses the point entirely. We all do something. We all contribute.
So, I was shocked. Pleased, to be certain, but shocked. I was touched that these people would choose to honor me for making this trip to Africa on their behalf, but confused as to why I was being honored in this way, at this time, for something that might be a bit more complicated than making coffee on Sunday mornings but that, in its essence, was exactly the same task. I thanked everyone for the card and the gift and pledged to share both the sentiments and the gift with the others taking the journey.
Later, however, it hit me. Though I was highly honored by this gift, it had not been intended for me. The gift was mine, but the honor belonged to God. These people were showing their faith, love, and hope in God by helping me to do His work. I was merely the recipient of the gift. And that feeling made me humble and all the more honored. God was entrusting me with His gift. He was letting me feel one tiny iota of the praise that He rightfully deserves.
If this is to be the sort of lesson that I am to learn on this trip, I'm not sure I can wait for it to begin. But if I have learned anything already, I don't need to go to Africa to be touched by angels. They are all around me and their touches are profound and filled with God's love.
Have a blessed weekend.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Happy New Year from Will and Willie...
To all the years I've loved before...
that have traveled in and out my door...
I dedicate this song...
To all the goods and wrongs...
In all the years I've loved before.
2009 was not so good.
It really tested all my brood.
But despite all the calamity,
we managed to live free
in the land of amazing brotherhood.
2010 should be great.
Throughout the world and in our state.
We hope for peace and prosperity,
For all the world and you and me,
Let God's love be our fate.
To all the years I've loved before...
The years that carried hopes of more...
I dedicate my life...
in the hope of ending strife...
In all the world forevermore!
that have traveled in and out my door...
I dedicate this song...
To all the goods and wrongs...
In all the years I've loved before.
2009 was not so good.
It really tested all my brood.
But despite all the calamity,
we managed to live free
in the land of amazing brotherhood.
2010 should be great.
Throughout the world and in our state.
We hope for peace and prosperity,
For all the world and you and me,
Let God's love be our fate.
To all the years I've loved before...
The years that carried hopes of more...
I dedicate my life...
in the hope of ending strife...
In all the world forevermore!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Avatar - meh? 2 out of 5 stars.
Some stories should never be written. This is the one truth that Hollywood can never seem to grasp. They keep doing remakes and retellings of stories that didn't need to be remade or retold. Is it creative bankruptcy? Some sort of Hollywood formula? Or simple blindness amongst producers and writers? I don't think there is an easy answer.
When I started my novel, I knew the time was finally ripe for telling a story that had been rambling around in my brain for fifteen years. I wrote and wrote and wrote. After five years I gave up for two reasons - first, the story had a structural problem. But second, and more importantly, I realized that my story had outlived its useful life. The world had changed too much for my story to ever work... which brings me to AVATAR.
Now before I go any further, I want to say that there may be spoilers ahead. Although the biggest problem with AVATAR is the story's lack of originality, I still think you should see it spoiler free and enjoy it for what the producer and writer intended. So if you haven't seen the movie, turn away now... Go ahead, we'll wait...
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1...
This film achieves heights of visual accomplishment not seen in a long time. The environment is just that crisp. When you add the layers of wildlife and the imaginative takes on animals and geography, it all adds up to one of the most astonishing film looks since The Lord of the Rings pilfered New Zealand and turned it into Middle Earth. However, a film begins, middles and ends with story - and that is where this film dies on the vine.
As compelling as the visuals were, if the story had really been churning out at an equal rate, the visuals would have been even more spectacular. For example, in the films best sequence where Jake has to bond with his first flying dragon thingy, the story and the visuals are equal, creating a fantastic sequence that almost seemed like a completely different movie. As these characters had to climb up to the floating sky islands and then bond with one of the dragons before plunging to near certain death made for the most compelling moments of film this year - both visually and creatively entertaining, with story and image in sync. If the rest of the film was as interesting as these few minutes, I would have been thrilled.
The problems with the story begin right away. There are logic problems with the set up. Our hero is a wounded marine who agrees to work for a space corporation to replace his dead brother in the Avatar project. He goes to Pandora where this corporation is mining a miracle substance called unobtanium (I'm not making that up) that does something or other - its never explained with the implication being that its not important as to what it does. At one point, Jake illustrates this point by saying something to the effect that, "They have something we want, so we take it." Upon arriving at Pandora, Jake is immediately cast as the middle ground between mindless automaton Scientists and mindless automaton Soldiers, both being played against each other by the evil Corporation. The xenophobic soldiers don't see the aliens as the indigenous peoples on the planet, but as stupid savages in the way of progress. The scientists, on the other hand, see them as some sort of enlightened culture that could bring humanity back to us if we could just learn from them. Jake is just happy to run in his giant blue Avatar. The problems, of course, are that the film is set up as an analogy. We are not presented with real human beings or real aliens. We are presented with stereotypical view points (good guys = scientists, bad guys = soldiers) and we aren't ever given any contradictory evidence. All scientists are good, all soldiers are bad. And the Navi are a god fearing alien race that lives in peace and harmony with everything. So, of course, we hate them. Because we're greedy.
The whole world that Cameron created doesn't make any sense from that point of view. Quick, write a prequel in your mind. How did humans find this planet? How did we determine there was this mineral on the planet? How did we manage to set up a giant base there? Did the Navi not realize that we humans were there? Did we humans not realize that we would have to wipe out the Navi in order to rape their planet? Its stated right at the beginning that the Navi want to kill all the humans and yet they seem to tolerate these obvious Avatar's in their midst? Why? None of this made any sense... and from that point forward, the stupidity begins to pile more on top of a story that is already built on a pretty shaky base.
The Navi had been at war until they were brought together at the beginning of the time of sorrow (presumably when the humans arrived, though never clearly stated). Why didn't they try to kill the humans then? When the humans first attack (about half way through the movie), the Navi try to kill them with bows and arrows - with the arrows just bouncing off the ships. Have they never fought humans before? Haven't they been killing humans for years before this? So why don't they know their arrows are ineffective? Shouldn't they already know how to kill humans? And isn't this environment supposed to be extremely hostile to humans? And yet these space marines are constantly wiping the floor with their primitive counterparts without doing anything more strenuous than pulling a trigger. Heck, they march in a straight line and fire their guns and the Navi charge right at them like Pickett at Gettysburg with the same result. And if the Navi are supposedly so peaceful and harmonious, why have a warrior clan or warrior mentality at all? If they are one with nature, why learn how to kill others? Why have that become the basis for your entire culture and your entire manhood ritual?
I could go on and on and on. But the gist of the problem is this, in trying to borrow the story of Dances with Wolves, they took all the parts of the story that they liked and left the rest behind. The Navi were so much like Native Americans that even the space horses looked like they'd just been hijacked off the wall of a Native American petroglyph. And yet, the Navi had none of the associated history attached - no trail of tears, no Little Big Horn, no Plains Indians and counting coups and Buffalo Hunts... nothing like that - like some sanitized version of American Indians, like a really fuzzy shadow of them. And the marines weren't much better - dumb grunts that go off to fight because, of course, they're blood thirsty savages who follow orders because they're marines. Fire on innocent men, women and children - okay. Do it for some dumb corporation - might as well. There was no motivation for them, as they too were scrubbed clean of all the massacres they'd been privy to, all the civil war fighting, all the fear of being scalped. As a writer, if you simplify your analogy too much, it ceases to have meaning. And it really becomes problemsome when you have such a clear cut analogy that has been stripped of most of its meaning. What we're left with is a message that says, human beings bad, native creatures good. Or more simply, Greed is bad. At nearly three hours, to be left with a message like that makes the whole affair seem rather pretentious.
I'd like to be able to say that I liked the movie while I was watching it but formed all these opinions after the fact, but the truth is that these problems were so glaring, I was bothered by them throughout. In the battle scene at the end where the aliens fight back by flying in from above on their flying dragons and shooting arrows through the windshields of the helicopters, my only thought was... "When did they figure out how to do that? Or is it just that somehow the windshields are now more brittle and arrows can pass through them?" I'm thinking this as I'm watching the movie, which is never a good sign. But I did have one revelation after the movie that is the basis of my argument here.
Years ago, right after Titanic came out and Cameron was talking up his new 3-D technology idea, he suggested that his next project would be a TV series about a real life mission to Mars. When I got home last night and my eyes were still caressing the incredible visuals of Avatar while my brain spewed hatred on the story, it occurred to me that if Cameron had decided to use this technology with a story about going to Mars, the film would have been completely incredible. So compelling were the visuals that had they been slaved together with a story worthy of them, Cameron really would have changed film making forever. And that was when I realized that the end result of all my bitching about the story came down to the fact that the film LOOKED great, but the story was a complete waste of time. It should never have been written. There was no reason to even tell the story. It was a story we'd all heard before and it had been told better by someone else.
So overall, I'd have to give the movie a C- at best. It was visually stunning, but the story was so weak that my brain protested while I was watching the movie. It was like biting into a nice juicy steak only to discover that it was actually a plastic dog toy that goes squeak. You still have a nice dog toy, but the meal you were promised is only a distant memory.
When I started my novel, I knew the time was finally ripe for telling a story that had been rambling around in my brain for fifteen years. I wrote and wrote and wrote. After five years I gave up for two reasons - first, the story had a structural problem. But second, and more importantly, I realized that my story had outlived its useful life. The world had changed too much for my story to ever work... which brings me to AVATAR.
Now before I go any further, I want to say that there may be spoilers ahead. Although the biggest problem with AVATAR is the story's lack of originality, I still think you should see it spoiler free and enjoy it for what the producer and writer intended. So if you haven't seen the movie, turn away now... Go ahead, we'll wait...
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1...
This film achieves heights of visual accomplishment not seen in a long time. The environment is just that crisp. When you add the layers of wildlife and the imaginative takes on animals and geography, it all adds up to one of the most astonishing film looks since The Lord of the Rings pilfered New Zealand and turned it into Middle Earth. However, a film begins, middles and ends with story - and that is where this film dies on the vine.
As compelling as the visuals were, if the story had really been churning out at an equal rate, the visuals would have been even more spectacular. For example, in the films best sequence where Jake has to bond with his first flying dragon thingy, the story and the visuals are equal, creating a fantastic sequence that almost seemed like a completely different movie. As these characters had to climb up to the floating sky islands and then bond with one of the dragons before plunging to near certain death made for the most compelling moments of film this year - both visually and creatively entertaining, with story and image in sync. If the rest of the film was as interesting as these few minutes, I would have been thrilled.
The problems with the story begin right away. There are logic problems with the set up. Our hero is a wounded marine who agrees to work for a space corporation to replace his dead brother in the Avatar project. He goes to Pandora where this corporation is mining a miracle substance called unobtanium (I'm not making that up) that does something or other - its never explained with the implication being that its not important as to what it does. At one point, Jake illustrates this point by saying something to the effect that, "They have something we want, so we take it." Upon arriving at Pandora, Jake is immediately cast as the middle ground between mindless automaton Scientists and mindless automaton Soldiers, both being played against each other by the evil Corporation. The xenophobic soldiers don't see the aliens as the indigenous peoples on the planet, but as stupid savages in the way of progress. The scientists, on the other hand, see them as some sort of enlightened culture that could bring humanity back to us if we could just learn from them. Jake is just happy to run in his giant blue Avatar. The problems, of course, are that the film is set up as an analogy. We are not presented with real human beings or real aliens. We are presented with stereotypical view points (good guys = scientists, bad guys = soldiers) and we aren't ever given any contradictory evidence. All scientists are good, all soldiers are bad. And the Navi are a god fearing alien race that lives in peace and harmony with everything. So, of course, we hate them. Because we're greedy.
The whole world that Cameron created doesn't make any sense from that point of view. Quick, write a prequel in your mind. How did humans find this planet? How did we determine there was this mineral on the planet? How did we manage to set up a giant base there? Did the Navi not realize that we humans were there? Did we humans not realize that we would have to wipe out the Navi in order to rape their planet? Its stated right at the beginning that the Navi want to kill all the humans and yet they seem to tolerate these obvious Avatar's in their midst? Why? None of this made any sense... and from that point forward, the stupidity begins to pile more on top of a story that is already built on a pretty shaky base.
The Navi had been at war until they were brought together at the beginning of the time of sorrow (presumably when the humans arrived, though never clearly stated). Why didn't they try to kill the humans then? When the humans first attack (about half way through the movie), the Navi try to kill them with bows and arrows - with the arrows just bouncing off the ships. Have they never fought humans before? Haven't they been killing humans for years before this? So why don't they know their arrows are ineffective? Shouldn't they already know how to kill humans? And isn't this environment supposed to be extremely hostile to humans? And yet these space marines are constantly wiping the floor with their primitive counterparts without doing anything more strenuous than pulling a trigger. Heck, they march in a straight line and fire their guns and the Navi charge right at them like Pickett at Gettysburg with the same result. And if the Navi are supposedly so peaceful and harmonious, why have a warrior clan or warrior mentality at all? If they are one with nature, why learn how to kill others? Why have that become the basis for your entire culture and your entire manhood ritual?
I could go on and on and on. But the gist of the problem is this, in trying to borrow the story of Dances with Wolves, they took all the parts of the story that they liked and left the rest behind. The Navi were so much like Native Americans that even the space horses looked like they'd just been hijacked off the wall of a Native American petroglyph. And yet, the Navi had none of the associated history attached - no trail of tears, no Little Big Horn, no Plains Indians and counting coups and Buffalo Hunts... nothing like that - like some sanitized version of American Indians, like a really fuzzy shadow of them. And the marines weren't much better - dumb grunts that go off to fight because, of course, they're blood thirsty savages who follow orders because they're marines. Fire on innocent men, women and children - okay. Do it for some dumb corporation - might as well. There was no motivation for them, as they too were scrubbed clean of all the massacres they'd been privy to, all the civil war fighting, all the fear of being scalped. As a writer, if you simplify your analogy too much, it ceases to have meaning. And it really becomes problemsome when you have such a clear cut analogy that has been stripped of most of its meaning. What we're left with is a message that says, human beings bad, native creatures good. Or more simply, Greed is bad. At nearly three hours, to be left with a message like that makes the whole affair seem rather pretentious.
I'd like to be able to say that I liked the movie while I was watching it but formed all these opinions after the fact, but the truth is that these problems were so glaring, I was bothered by them throughout. In the battle scene at the end where the aliens fight back by flying in from above on their flying dragons and shooting arrows through the windshields of the helicopters, my only thought was... "When did they figure out how to do that? Or is it just that somehow the windshields are now more brittle and arrows can pass through them?" I'm thinking this as I'm watching the movie, which is never a good sign. But I did have one revelation after the movie that is the basis of my argument here.
Years ago, right after Titanic came out and Cameron was talking up his new 3-D technology idea, he suggested that his next project would be a TV series about a real life mission to Mars. When I got home last night and my eyes were still caressing the incredible visuals of Avatar while my brain spewed hatred on the story, it occurred to me that if Cameron had decided to use this technology with a story about going to Mars, the film would have been completely incredible. So compelling were the visuals that had they been slaved together with a story worthy of them, Cameron really would have changed film making forever. And that was when I realized that the end result of all my bitching about the story came down to the fact that the film LOOKED great, but the story was a complete waste of time. It should never have been written. There was no reason to even tell the story. It was a story we'd all heard before and it had been told better by someone else.
So overall, I'd have to give the movie a C- at best. It was visually stunning, but the story was so weak that my brain protested while I was watching the movie. It was like biting into a nice juicy steak only to discover that it was actually a plastic dog toy that goes squeak. You still have a nice dog toy, but the meal you were promised is only a distant memory.
Friday, December 18, 2009
I'm too tired to think of anything clever...
I hate GAP. I hate their smug little "holiday" commercial. I hate any song that makes light of this season. I hate the atheists who are trying to hijack my Christmas by making it seem as if I'm an ogre for reminding people that there wouldn't be a Christmas without Christ. There's no hope without Christ either, but I'm not going to harp on that.
I like egg nog and Santa and Christmas shopping and all the commercial aspects of Christmas, but I adore advent calendars and wreaths and children dressed up like angels and all of those wonderfully glorious Christmas hymns. I don't mind if people of other faiths and beliefs (or lack thereof) want to enjoy Christmas too. But don't try and take my holiday from me because I happen to take it seriously. For you this might be all fun and games and football and food and cheap TV's under a fake plastic tree. For me this is a holy season that is supposed to bring out the best in humanity - peace, love, joy, and hope. You can have all of these things too at no extra charge, but I'm afraid you will have to embrace a bigger picture of Christmas than some Saturday evening holiday special can give you on a cable channel.
So to those who are trying to destroy Christmas in order to preserve their holiday, I say back off. You don't have to believe that Jesus is the reason for the season, but don't try to ruin it for the rest of us... or so help me, I'll make it my mission to go to every public school in the country and tell all the kids that there's no such thing as Santa Claus. ;)
I like egg nog and Santa and Christmas shopping and all the commercial aspects of Christmas, but I adore advent calendars and wreaths and children dressed up like angels and all of those wonderfully glorious Christmas hymns. I don't mind if people of other faiths and beliefs (or lack thereof) want to enjoy Christmas too. But don't try and take my holiday from me because I happen to take it seriously. For you this might be all fun and games and football and food and cheap TV's under a fake plastic tree. For me this is a holy season that is supposed to bring out the best in humanity - peace, love, joy, and hope. You can have all of these things too at no extra charge, but I'm afraid you will have to embrace a bigger picture of Christmas than some Saturday evening holiday special can give you on a cable channel.
So to those who are trying to destroy Christmas in order to preserve their holiday, I say back off. You don't have to believe that Jesus is the reason for the season, but don't try to ruin it for the rest of us... or so help me, I'll make it my mission to go to every public school in the country and tell all the kids that there's no such thing as Santa Claus. ;)
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Ninety Days without Ninety Days In The Bible - Day One
For approximately the last 90 days or so (give or take a week or two), my good friend, brother from another mother, and blog buddy, Andy at A Mile From The Beach has been writing about his journey through the Bible - reading it as part of a church program called The Bible in 90 Days. He has literally read the entire Bible in 90 Days. It took me 150 days to get through Psalms (one book of the Bible for those that don't know) so count me already impressed. But what impressed me more is the fact that he wrote a blog posting for every single day of his journey about his journey through the Bible. Now that he's finished reading the Bible, I find myself going into withdrawl. I had really gotten used to coming and visiting his blog post every day and advancing through the Bible with him (in leaps and bounds).
Of course, I shall have to endure without Andy's journey. So, in order to make it up to myself and to others that might be experiencing similar withdrawl symptoms, I have once again peaked ahead to 90 Days in the future to see what life will be like after 90 days without 90 Days In The Bible. Instead of pre-printing 90 Days worth of blogs, however, I have summarized the important blog titles for the next 90 days of Andy's blog.
Day One - Something about Andy's continual denial of certain events at the Grand Canyon. I think this is available for reading now.
Day Nine - A Christmas wish for everyone.
Day Fifteen - Andy reveals his New Year's resolution surprise.
Day Thirty One - Andy's first day at his online seminary.
Day Fifty - Andy's blog is a tribute to his good friend Will who is leaving for Kenya.
Day Fifty Five - Andy is deemed to advanced for regular seminary and is skipped a few years
Day Sixty - Andy reports Will's sad news that he's decided not to return to the USA.
Day Sixty Five - Andy graduates from Seminary.
Day Seventy Five - Andy is called as a new pastor at First Church of Recreationalism in Alamosa, CO.
Day Ninety - Andy launches new Bible in 90 Days at his new church.
Wow... quite a busy 90 day period. The only question, dear Spirit, is whether this a vision of things to come, or things that Might Yet come. Only time will tell...
Of course, I shall have to endure without Andy's journey. So, in order to make it up to myself and to others that might be experiencing similar withdrawl symptoms, I have once again peaked ahead to 90 Days in the future to see what life will be like after 90 days without 90 Days In The Bible. Instead of pre-printing 90 Days worth of blogs, however, I have summarized the important blog titles for the next 90 days of Andy's blog.
Day One - Something about Andy's continual denial of certain events at the Grand Canyon. I think this is available for reading now.
Day Nine - A Christmas wish for everyone.
Day Fifteen - Andy reveals his New Year's resolution surprise.
Day Thirty One - Andy's first day at his online seminary.
Day Fifty - Andy's blog is a tribute to his good friend Will who is leaving for Kenya.
Day Fifty Five - Andy is deemed to advanced for regular seminary and is skipped a few years
Day Sixty - Andy reports Will's sad news that he's decided not to return to the USA.
Day Sixty Five - Andy graduates from Seminary.
Day Seventy Five - Andy is called as a new pastor at First Church of Recreationalism in Alamosa, CO.
Day Ninety - Andy launches new Bible in 90 Days at his new church.
Wow... quite a busy 90 day period. The only question, dear Spirit, is whether this a vision of things to come, or things that Might Yet come. Only time will tell...
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Reformed and always reforming... part two
You'd think that after 700 blog posts (this being 701) I'd have figured out some of the basics of theology and Christianity. Not even close. In fact, I still struggle with what is, on one level, an argument about gays and lesbians in the church, but at another level is a fundamental question about scripture, faith, and love - and which takes precedence.
I have been moved to revive this argument because of a response to the previous blog in this article by Underground Pewster. If you haven't read the original blog post (Reformed and always reforming) I suggest you do so at this time, because I'm not going to review it again. U.P. wrote that in that case a NO vote would have also been a loving vote. Randall joined in with U.P. to note that often times telling someone no is the best thing for them and does not mean that you love them even less. Not to be too argumentative, but I had figured that angle out on my own. And to counter that, I could simply state the obvious cliche that one can say No for good reasons and out of love and still be wrong (like in all those movies where a parent wants what's best for a child and refuses to see that they are stifling his/her creativity).
What none of these previous posts have done is address the fundamental question - and perhaps that's why I'm still struggling with the subject - what should the role of scripture be in our daily lives as opposed to love and faith (and as part of love and faith as well). I don't wish to throw these various things in contrast to each other. I strongly suspect that in leading perfect God Oriented lives that all of these things fit together seamlessly so that to follow scripture is to love and is to be faithful. But there are stark contrasts to what the Bible shows and contradictions in the Biblical story as well.
Nevermind the fact that most Christians ignore a good 90% or more of Leviticus. We all know that Jesus broke the veil and freed us from the law. And yet, He also said that He didn't come to destroy the law, but to fulfill it. If that's the case, and the law still applies to us, why don't we follow Leviticus anymore? Or, perhaps more poignantly, why do we only follow certain aspects of it?
I am also cognizant of the story of Peter's vision in Acts where he interpreted that the eating of any kind of food was now allowed. This also led to the removal of circumcision as a requirement of being a Christian. None of these things was ever addressed by word from Jesus, and yet they are accepted practice in Christianity today.
While He was alive, Jesus did make note that the law had its limits. He reminded the Pharisees that if a man fell down a well on the sabbath, it would not be against the law to rescue him even if that particular task seemed to break the holy sabbath (nor would it be against the law to feed hungry men as in the case of David). In all cases where Jesus disturbed the law keepers of the day, the litmus test seemed to be that He was showing His love to others - feeding the hungry, saving the dying, protecting people from stoning, etc... So, by His own acts, it would appear that Love triumphed over Law any day of the week.
That idea has been poking around in my head for a while now. I've also been thinking about something Jesus told his disciples - From now on whatever you bind on earth will be bound in Heaven, and whatever you condemn on earth will be condemned in Heaven.
The problem with laws is that they don't have the flexibility to deal with people. They are always black and white. This is right. This is wrong. There can be no grey area. But real life isn't black and white. Therefore law needs to be tempered with something else to avoid it being too out of touch with reality. That something else is love in all its component forms - wisdom, compassion, and mercy. That laws sometimes outgrow reality is obvious. The world changes and laws need to change with it.
But also people change and the laws need to change with people. Perhaps that's what Jesus was trying to tell his disciples. The law is important and always will be, but my kingdom isn't static. It will grow with time and you will need to be its advocates. As the world changes, you will change with it. But one thing will never change - my love for my church. Therefore, if you ask me to change my law, it will be changed.
I think the church is being tested. Are we going to exclude certain people because of scripture in the same way that the Pharisees did in Jesus's time? Or are we going to embrace everyone because Jesus's love is great enough to overcome all sin - whether it be pork, or divorce, or working on the sabbath, or homosexuality? What kind of church are we? And where do we draw the line?
Randall made an excellent point in his very first response to the previous blog post - going away from scripture is the path to madness. But can you disagree with scripture and still be cognizant of what it says? I've read Leviticus a bunch of times, but it doesn't make me harken to those rules and regulations (though I think owning willing slaves for six years, so long as I release them on the 7th year might be kind of cool ;) Yet, I am still aware of what the law says.
As a last point, I think this issue is more relevant in other parts of the world than in the United States. I know that the Vatican has recently said that any homosexuality is a terrible sin - thus throwing all of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters under the proverbial bus. And in Uganda, they are about to enforce criminalization of homosexuality to the point of death in some cases. In contrast to these more serious issues, the calling of a pastor seems almost unimportant. And yet, the arguments are the same in all cases - Holy Scripture vs. Real People. We are no doubt getting it wrong no matter which side we fall upon. But I think I'd rather err on the side of love and inclusion than hate and exclusion - and then sort it out later when I'm much wiser.
I have been moved to revive this argument because of a response to the previous blog in this article by Underground Pewster. If you haven't read the original blog post (Reformed and always reforming) I suggest you do so at this time, because I'm not going to review it again. U.P. wrote that in that case a NO vote would have also been a loving vote. Randall joined in with U.P. to note that often times telling someone no is the best thing for them and does not mean that you love them even less. Not to be too argumentative, but I had figured that angle out on my own. And to counter that, I could simply state the obvious cliche that one can say No for good reasons and out of love and still be wrong (like in all those movies where a parent wants what's best for a child and refuses to see that they are stifling his/her creativity).
What none of these previous posts have done is address the fundamental question - and perhaps that's why I'm still struggling with the subject - what should the role of scripture be in our daily lives as opposed to love and faith (and as part of love and faith as well). I don't wish to throw these various things in contrast to each other. I strongly suspect that in leading perfect God Oriented lives that all of these things fit together seamlessly so that to follow scripture is to love and is to be faithful. But there are stark contrasts to what the Bible shows and contradictions in the Biblical story as well.
Nevermind the fact that most Christians ignore a good 90% or more of Leviticus. We all know that Jesus broke the veil and freed us from the law. And yet, He also said that He didn't come to destroy the law, but to fulfill it. If that's the case, and the law still applies to us, why don't we follow Leviticus anymore? Or, perhaps more poignantly, why do we only follow certain aspects of it?
I am also cognizant of the story of Peter's vision in Acts where he interpreted that the eating of any kind of food was now allowed. This also led to the removal of circumcision as a requirement of being a Christian. None of these things was ever addressed by word from Jesus, and yet they are accepted practice in Christianity today.
While He was alive, Jesus did make note that the law had its limits. He reminded the Pharisees that if a man fell down a well on the sabbath, it would not be against the law to rescue him even if that particular task seemed to break the holy sabbath (nor would it be against the law to feed hungry men as in the case of David). In all cases where Jesus disturbed the law keepers of the day, the litmus test seemed to be that He was showing His love to others - feeding the hungry, saving the dying, protecting people from stoning, etc... So, by His own acts, it would appear that Love triumphed over Law any day of the week.
That idea has been poking around in my head for a while now. I've also been thinking about something Jesus told his disciples - From now on whatever you bind on earth will be bound in Heaven, and whatever you condemn on earth will be condemned in Heaven.
The problem with laws is that they don't have the flexibility to deal with people. They are always black and white. This is right. This is wrong. There can be no grey area. But real life isn't black and white. Therefore law needs to be tempered with something else to avoid it being too out of touch with reality. That something else is love in all its component forms - wisdom, compassion, and mercy. That laws sometimes outgrow reality is obvious. The world changes and laws need to change with it.
But also people change and the laws need to change with people. Perhaps that's what Jesus was trying to tell his disciples. The law is important and always will be, but my kingdom isn't static. It will grow with time and you will need to be its advocates. As the world changes, you will change with it. But one thing will never change - my love for my church. Therefore, if you ask me to change my law, it will be changed.
I think the church is being tested. Are we going to exclude certain people because of scripture in the same way that the Pharisees did in Jesus's time? Or are we going to embrace everyone because Jesus's love is great enough to overcome all sin - whether it be pork, or divorce, or working on the sabbath, or homosexuality? What kind of church are we? And where do we draw the line?
Randall made an excellent point in his very first response to the previous blog post - going away from scripture is the path to madness. But can you disagree with scripture and still be cognizant of what it says? I've read Leviticus a bunch of times, but it doesn't make me harken to those rules and regulations (though I think owning willing slaves for six years, so long as I release them on the 7th year might be kind of cool ;) Yet, I am still aware of what the law says.
As a last point, I think this issue is more relevant in other parts of the world than in the United States. I know that the Vatican has recently said that any homosexuality is a terrible sin - thus throwing all of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters under the proverbial bus. And in Uganda, they are about to enforce criminalization of homosexuality to the point of death in some cases. In contrast to these more serious issues, the calling of a pastor seems almost unimportant. And yet, the arguments are the same in all cases - Holy Scripture vs. Real People. We are no doubt getting it wrong no matter which side we fall upon. But I think I'd rather err on the side of love and inclusion than hate and exclusion - and then sort it out later when I'm much wiser.
Monday, December 07, 2009
The Book of Will - Chapter One
Chapter One
The Parable of the Beloved King
Once there was a kingdom that knew peace and a king that was beloved by his people. Everywhere the king went, the people of the land would praise him and shower him with adoration.
Whatever the king wanted, the people would provide. When he was in need of a new palace, they didn't hesitate to build it for him. When he wanted to travel to other countries, the people sent him gladly and awaited his return with open arms. When he needed funds for any project, the people taxed themselves to pay for it. When he asked for any sort of support, the people were always generous with their response.
However, the king was aware of the love being shown to kings in other lands. Other kings has nicer palaces and their people generated even more tax money for bigger projects. The king began to wonder how much his people loved him. He started to ask for even more money and was pleased to see that the people responded without reservation. He knew that the people loved and respected him because of all that they eagerly provided to him.
One day, however, in the midst of a famine, the people asked the king if they might decrease their tax burden for the year since many of the people were struggling to feed their families. The king felt affronted. He wondered why the people no longer respected him. He felt that any less money in his coffers was a clear indication of the people's disrespect. He made it very clear to his people that no only would he not decrease their burden, but he expected it to be increased as a sign of their love to him. Any less and he threatened to leave their kingdom and go where he was truly respected.
The king was overthrown and the people rejoiced. And the land once again had peace.
Woe to any king that puts respect before honor.
The Parable of the Beloved King
Once there was a kingdom that knew peace and a king that was beloved by his people. Everywhere the king went, the people of the land would praise him and shower him with adoration.
Whatever the king wanted, the people would provide. When he was in need of a new palace, they didn't hesitate to build it for him. When he wanted to travel to other countries, the people sent him gladly and awaited his return with open arms. When he needed funds for any project, the people taxed themselves to pay for it. When he asked for any sort of support, the people were always generous with their response.
However, the king was aware of the love being shown to kings in other lands. Other kings has nicer palaces and their people generated even more tax money for bigger projects. The king began to wonder how much his people loved him. He started to ask for even more money and was pleased to see that the people responded without reservation. He knew that the people loved and respected him because of all that they eagerly provided to him.
One day, however, in the midst of a famine, the people asked the king if they might decrease their tax burden for the year since many of the people were struggling to feed their families. The king felt affronted. He wondered why the people no longer respected him. He felt that any less money in his coffers was a clear indication of the people's disrespect. He made it very clear to his people that no only would he not decrease their burden, but he expected it to be increased as a sign of their love to him. Any less and he threatened to leave their kingdom and go where he was truly respected.
The king was overthrown and the people rejoiced. And the land once again had peace.
Woe to any king that puts respect before honor.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Bizarre Thought For The Week
You know that intense joy you get when you really scratch some place that itches. Its primal. Animal. A pleasure reserved for the lizard brain inside of your higher mind. Its also the reason the Matrix would never work.
Humans are way more complex creatures than car batteries, but at a biological level we don't need to be. Growing up without any form of visual, social, or other stimuli, we would simply be electricity producing car batteries - just like the machines need us to be. So, quite frankly, there would be absolutely no reason for the Matrix to exist.
Think about it. When you are born, you are quite content to simply exist. You eat, poop, drink, poop, and breathe. Period. And that makes you happy. Take a machine that mines human bodies for the parts necessary to farm human beings, incubates them in giant tubes, and then grows them on the vine. The minds inside these giant car batteries would need no outside stimulation to exist. They wouldn't need a Matrix. They would be rudimentary, at best. Lizard brain would the highest unstimulated cognizance necessary.
Further, if some human culture survived outside of the Matrix, it would presumably continue to evolve. Its language would change. Its culture would change. Everything about it would be remarkably different than what would exist in a Matrix world that was tied to one period of human existence of several hundred years before. If humans popped out of the Matrix suddenly, as they did in the movie, they would be hopelessly unable to communicate with the human beings of Zion. It would be like a Shakespearian character suddenly being awakened in 21st Century America. Not only would they have a hard time simply grasping the language, but everything else would seem bizarre and magical as well.
My mind has been drawn to these bizarre thoughts more and more lately because of the potentially complex world in which I set my newest novel. On the one hand, the world could be infinitely more dense and complex than anything in the Matrix. On the other hand, nobody would ever want to read any of that - so who cares? Giant robot arms plucking baby pods out of long fields of incubator vines is pretty cool visually and helps sell tickets, even if it doesn't make any damn sense. The Matrix is, after all, a story and sometimes even true stories don't really many any damn sense - like Peruvian gangsters killing fat people for their fatty tissues to sell to cosmetic firms which sounds like a hybrid Stephen King, Robin Cook, and Lionsgate Film. Besides I have a way around it... I just make my hero less intelligent than his author - so he never questions anything that I choose to tell him. He can't tell you how his world works, because he doesn't know. And isn't that a trait that we all share?
Humans are way more complex creatures than car batteries, but at a biological level we don't need to be. Growing up without any form of visual, social, or other stimuli, we would simply be electricity producing car batteries - just like the machines need us to be. So, quite frankly, there would be absolutely no reason for the Matrix to exist.
Think about it. When you are born, you are quite content to simply exist. You eat, poop, drink, poop, and breathe. Period. And that makes you happy. Take a machine that mines human bodies for the parts necessary to farm human beings, incubates them in giant tubes, and then grows them on the vine. The minds inside these giant car batteries would need no outside stimulation to exist. They wouldn't need a Matrix. They would be rudimentary, at best. Lizard brain would the highest unstimulated cognizance necessary.
Further, if some human culture survived outside of the Matrix, it would presumably continue to evolve. Its language would change. Its culture would change. Everything about it would be remarkably different than what would exist in a Matrix world that was tied to one period of human existence of several hundred years before. If humans popped out of the Matrix suddenly, as they did in the movie, they would be hopelessly unable to communicate with the human beings of Zion. It would be like a Shakespearian character suddenly being awakened in 21st Century America. Not only would they have a hard time simply grasping the language, but everything else would seem bizarre and magical as well.
My mind has been drawn to these bizarre thoughts more and more lately because of the potentially complex world in which I set my newest novel. On the one hand, the world could be infinitely more dense and complex than anything in the Matrix. On the other hand, nobody would ever want to read any of that - so who cares? Giant robot arms plucking baby pods out of long fields of incubator vines is pretty cool visually and helps sell tickets, even if it doesn't make any damn sense. The Matrix is, after all, a story and sometimes even true stories don't really many any damn sense - like Peruvian gangsters killing fat people for their fatty tissues to sell to cosmetic firms which sounds like a hybrid Stephen King, Robin Cook, and Lionsgate Film. Besides I have a way around it... I just make my hero less intelligent than his author - so he never questions anything that I choose to tell him. He can't tell you how his world works, because he doesn't know. And isn't that a trait that we all share?
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Moderately Bi-Polar
This is not to take away anything from people that suffer from this horrible mental illness. I've known some people with this disease and its a very serious thing.
That being said, I can sympathize in a very mundane kind of way. Everytime I start work on a new project I can go through these wild mood swings. One day I'm high as a kite, the next day the entire world's out to get me. Intellectually I try to maintain a level in between, but emotions are powerful forces in our lives.
The reasons I think have to do with the sort of super concentration required to get a writing project off the ground. On any journey the first steps are always the hardest, and even though you try to ease into it, starting to write something can be like physically smashing your head against a wall. Until you develop a thick cranial ridge to absorb the blows, you tend to get messed up a bit at first.
As it turns out, this is precisely controlled by my emotions. If I write well, I'm flying. The world is myoyster double deluxe bacon cheeseburger. I'm ready to accept my Nobel Prize for Literature. If I don't write well, or if I don't write period, then I feel as if my writing skills are diminished and I have failed and will not go Into The West with the other elves. My light has gone out in the world. I am but a shadow of my former self. I do not know what I am doing here. I am utterly lost and alone and... well, you get the idea.
Of course, what makes it worse is that starting to write is like dropping a giant rock in the pond. It creates these back and forth waves where the highs are tied to my points of high energy and the lows are tied to the depths of my fatigue. The result of this is that I can write a great three pages at night and feel so exhilarated that I'm literally bouncing off the walls like someone dripped espresso intravenously into my brain while I was writing. I can't get to sleep... until about two hours later when I crash. Then, no matter how well I wrote the night before, I wake up feeling despondent and depressed and suddenly the CRAP that I wrote the night before comes back to haunt me reminding in mocking tones that I am just a hack.
Eventually, I will get into a rhythm. The highs and the lows will moderate and the writing will just become a chore to be done. And then all the drama will be gone and I will just be Will... although a bit more tired than normal.
I can't imagine what this sort of life might be like on a continual basis. I say some pretty stupid stuff when I'm depressed, and I'm too damned cheery when I'm not. I can only guess how much worse it must be to have this stuff hit you out of the clear blue. I know people who have had the disease and who have done some horrendous things while under its control. Compared to that, a few undeserved shout outs and a little unnecessary pouting are but minor quibbles.
That being said, I can sympathize in a very mundane kind of way. Everytime I start work on a new project I can go through these wild mood swings. One day I'm high as a kite, the next day the entire world's out to get me. Intellectually I try to maintain a level in between, but emotions are powerful forces in our lives.
The reasons I think have to do with the sort of super concentration required to get a writing project off the ground. On any journey the first steps are always the hardest, and even though you try to ease into it, starting to write something can be like physically smashing your head against a wall. Until you develop a thick cranial ridge to absorb the blows, you tend to get messed up a bit at first.
As it turns out, this is precisely controlled by my emotions. If I write well, I'm flying. The world is my
Of course, what makes it worse is that starting to write is like dropping a giant rock in the pond. It creates these back and forth waves where the highs are tied to my points of high energy and the lows are tied to the depths of my fatigue. The result of this is that I can write a great three pages at night and feel so exhilarated that I'm literally bouncing off the walls like someone dripped espresso intravenously into my brain while I was writing. I can't get to sleep... until about two hours later when I crash. Then, no matter how well I wrote the night before, I wake up feeling despondent and depressed and suddenly the CRAP that I wrote the night before comes back to haunt me reminding in mocking tones that I am just a hack.
Eventually, I will get into a rhythm. The highs and the lows will moderate and the writing will just become a chore to be done. And then all the drama will be gone and I will just be Will... although a bit more tired than normal.
I can't imagine what this sort of life might be like on a continual basis. I say some pretty stupid stuff when I'm depressed, and I'm too damned cheery when I'm not. I can only guess how much worse it must be to have this stuff hit you out of the clear blue. I know people who have had the disease and who have done some horrendous things while under its control. Compared to that, a few undeserved shout outs and a little unnecessary pouting are but minor quibbles.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Some things I hate to admit...
1) Babe Ruth's homerun record is supreme. Hank Aaron broke his in a different era. So too did Barry Bonds. Oh's record, while superior to all, was done in Japan. Likewise I think anyone that set a homerun record at Coor's Field would be questionable. Of course, the whole idea of records from one era to the next is kind of sketchy. I imagine the "world's fastest man" would probably have been outstripped by a Inuit of 35kya trying to outrun a saber-toothed tiger.
2) OJ was probably guilty. So was Barry Bonds. Problem is, I don't think I'll ever truly know since a) OJ's case was botched by a bad prosecution and b) Barry will likely never get his day in court. Thus I am forced to make my conclusions based upon speculation. Of course, that kind of conclusion while it might seem correct in these two cases is also what gives up a large group of people that also believe that Obama was born in Kenya and that the government blew up the WTC in order to go to war with Iraq. So speculation is never ideal.
3) Abortion is wrong. I know where I stand on this politically. And I know where I stand on this based upon my upbringing. But I find it hard to fathom how killing potential life can be right under any circumstance. I also realize that I will never have to make such an impossible decision for myself and, as such, I find myself horribly conflicted in choosing between the lesser of two evils.
4) Obama has been rather mediocre thus far. I'm not one of these guys that says let's tar and feather the communist and run him out of town. Quite the contrary. In fact, I'd say that no President before and hopefully no President after this, shall have had such a deficit of things to overcome just to get back to square one. Even FDR taking over from Hoover had more to work with. However, that doesn't change the fact that so far lots has been done and the only change I can see in my own life is that I still have a job - barely. Treading water during a tsunami may keep you going for a short time but eventually you're still going to drown. We all need a life preserver... not just big banks.
5) I hate being poor. Too often I look with envy on those people who make double what I make (or even more) and wish that I had what they have. Even just not having to worry about things like spending money would make me happier, I tell myself. Of course, I know that its all a trap - that the more that you have, the more that you spend, and the more immune you become to the suffering of others. Even now, I make more money than some third world villages do in an entire year, and yet I am not happy. So, its probably a good thing that I remain "poor", since I would not know what to do with more money anyway.
6) I am getting burnt out. I have spent my entire life being creative. It is all I know. It is part of who I am. Yet, lately, I find that I'm much happier letting others be creative for me. I would rather vegitate in front of the TVand be entertained than do any entertaining myself. *sigh* I am finally becoming like everyone else - only without as much money ;)
2) OJ was probably guilty. So was Barry Bonds. Problem is, I don't think I'll ever truly know since a) OJ's case was botched by a bad prosecution and b) Barry will likely never get his day in court. Thus I am forced to make my conclusions based upon speculation. Of course, that kind of conclusion while it might seem correct in these two cases is also what gives up a large group of people that also believe that Obama was born in Kenya and that the government blew up the WTC in order to go to war with Iraq. So speculation is never ideal.
3) Abortion is wrong. I know where I stand on this politically. And I know where I stand on this based upon my upbringing. But I find it hard to fathom how killing potential life can be right under any circumstance. I also realize that I will never have to make such an impossible decision for myself and, as such, I find myself horribly conflicted in choosing between the lesser of two evils.
4) Obama has been rather mediocre thus far. I'm not one of these guys that says let's tar and feather the communist and run him out of town. Quite the contrary. In fact, I'd say that no President before and hopefully no President after this, shall have had such a deficit of things to overcome just to get back to square one. Even FDR taking over from Hoover had more to work with. However, that doesn't change the fact that so far lots has been done and the only change I can see in my own life is that I still have a job - barely. Treading water during a tsunami may keep you going for a short time but eventually you're still going to drown. We all need a life preserver... not just big banks.
5) I hate being poor. Too often I look with envy on those people who make double what I make (or even more) and wish that I had what they have. Even just not having to worry about things like spending money would make me happier, I tell myself. Of course, I know that its all a trap - that the more that you have, the more that you spend, and the more immune you become to the suffering of others. Even now, I make more money than some third world villages do in an entire year, and yet I am not happy. So, its probably a good thing that I remain "poor", since I would not know what to do with more money anyway.
6) I am getting burnt out. I have spent my entire life being creative. It is all I know. It is part of who I am. Yet, lately, I find that I'm much happier letting others be creative for me. I would rather vegitate in front of the TVand be entertained than do any entertaining myself. *sigh* I am finally becoming like everyone else - only without as much money ;)
Friday, November 20, 2009
WTF?!
'Fat for cosmetics' murder suspects arrested in Peru
 Some of the suspects were carrying bottles of fat when arrested |
Four people have been arrested in Peru on suspicion of killing dozens of people in order to sell their fat and tissue for cosmetic uses in Europe.
At least five other suspects, including two Italian nationals, remain at large.
Police said the gang could be behind the disappearances of up to 60 people in Peru's Huanuco and Pasco regions.
One of those arrested told police the ringleader had been killing people for their fat for more than three decades.
The gang has been referred to as the Pishtacos, after an ancient Peruvian legend of killers who attack people on lonely roads and murder them for their fat.
Human tissue
At a news conference in the capital, police showed reporters two bottles containing human body fat and images of one of the alleged victims.
One of the alleged killings is reported to have taken place in mid-September, with the person's body tissue removed for sale.
Cmdr Angel Toledo told Reuters news agency some of the suspects had "declared and stated how they murdered people with the aim being to extract their fat in rudimentary labs and sell it".
Police said they suspect the fat was sold to cosmetics and pharmaceutical companies in Europe, but have not confirmed any such connection.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Sleeping On An Empty Stomach
As part of my new fangled effort to lose weight, my doctor suggested counting calories. So I've been very diligently counting calories for a little more than a week now - keeping an average count of between 2000 and 3000 calories a day. As I understand it, you should have approximately 10 calories for each pound of weight you want to achieve. So, if you weigh 250lbs, for instance, and you want to get to 200lbs, you should eat only 2000 calories. Since I'm still dialing in a total that I can live with, my number fluctuates wildly.
On Monday, I only managed a little more than 2000 calories and my stomach growled when I went to bed. But it was simply annoying. However, by the end of last night, due to a combination of eating right and being rushed, I only managed a whopping 1400 calories - less than half of what my body would consider normal. I went to bed last night feeling really rather weak and starving.
As I tossed uncomfortably in bed trying not to think about food, I had a sudden divine smack upside the head - Hey Stupid, there are kids all over the world that do this every night. There are kids for whom 1400 calories would be a feast. That is why you're trying to help them, remember.
I was able to get up this morning and have a larger than usual breakfast (still probably under my normal calories though). The kids I'm trying to help in Africa probably got up for another day of scrounging for food and survival. Talk about putting things in perspective.
I may go hungry again before I head off to Africa, but I doubt that I'll ever complain about it.
On Monday, I only managed a little more than 2000 calories and my stomach growled when I went to bed. But it was simply annoying. However, by the end of last night, due to a combination of eating right and being rushed, I only managed a whopping 1400 calories - less than half of what my body would consider normal. I went to bed last night feeling really rather weak and starving.
As I tossed uncomfortably in bed trying not to think about food, I had a sudden divine smack upside the head - Hey Stupid, there are kids all over the world that do this every night. There are kids for whom 1400 calories would be a feast. That is why you're trying to help them, remember.
I was able to get up this morning and have a larger than usual breakfast (still probably under my normal calories though). The kids I'm trying to help in Africa probably got up for another day of scrounging for food and survival. Talk about putting things in perspective.
I may go hungry again before I head off to Africa, but I doubt that I'll ever complain about it.
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Lighter Side - The Greatest Movie Ever Made Opens Today!
2012 will be a magnum opus of destruction! It is the visceral filmed version of that game we all played as a kid - build something and then destroy it. Why? Because there is a guilty pleasure that strikes at the core of our being to watch stuff get destroyed, blowed up, and otherwise mangled. SimCity creators knew this - they added disasters that you could call down upon the unsuspecting sims. Irwin Allen knew this back in the 70's with Earthquake, The Poseidon Adventure, and The Towering Inferno. Hollywood briefly rediscovered it in the 90's with ID4, Twister, and, current champion and claimant to the title of greatest movie ever made, Volcano (This summer, the Coast is Toast! - that's all you needed to know!)
When I was a kid, one of my most favorite story pitches was an idea that my friend Eric and I played around with. Here's the gist: After a series of severe and freak natural disasters, Scientists discover that the world is coming to an end. First, all the monsters from Monster Island get loose. This causes a natural strain on society and so, World War Three breaks out. And then, just when things can't possibly get any worse, Armageddon happens and there's a final battle between Heaven and Hell, USSR and USA, Monsters and People while the entire earth convulses and dies. At the very end, our hero Scientist admits his love for the beautiful female Scientist; they kiss, and then they're swallowed by lava.
For a third grader, this was the greatest possible story ever told. No other disaster story could ever match it. You had total carnage and total chaos mixed with a G rated love story. Pure brilliance, never to be topped.
Roland Emmerich must have had similar ideas. He has let loose his Epic 3rd Grade self and paid a whole bunch of CGI artists to imagine his own version of the end of the world.
Warning: Do Not Confuse This With Shakespeare... though you might be tempted because of how cool it is. If you do, you will be disappointed.
In short, 2012 is the New Benchmark for Total Film Destruction and after watching a giant tsunami wave crest the Himilayas, I'm not sure it'll be beaten anytime soon. Then again, there's always my own third grade dream. But until that becomes filmed reality, we'll have to settle for 2012.
Buy lots of popcorn and prepare to laugh your head off in sheer destructive glee!
When I was a kid, one of my most favorite story pitches was an idea that my friend Eric and I played around with. Here's the gist: After a series of severe and freak natural disasters, Scientists discover that the world is coming to an end. First, all the monsters from Monster Island get loose. This causes a natural strain on society and so, World War Three breaks out. And then, just when things can't possibly get any worse, Armageddon happens and there's a final battle between Heaven and Hell, USSR and USA, Monsters and People while the entire earth convulses and dies. At the very end, our hero Scientist admits his love for the beautiful female Scientist; they kiss, and then they're swallowed by lava.
For a third grader, this was the greatest possible story ever told. No other disaster story could ever match it. You had total carnage and total chaos mixed with a G rated love story. Pure brilliance, never to be topped.
Roland Emmerich must have had similar ideas. He has let loose his Epic 3rd Grade self and paid a whole bunch of CGI artists to imagine his own version of the end of the world.
Warning: Do Not Confuse This With Shakespeare... though you might be tempted because of how cool it is. If you do, you will be disappointed.
In short, 2012 is the New Benchmark for Total Film Destruction and after watching a giant tsunami wave crest the Himilayas, I'm not sure it'll be beaten anytime soon. Then again, there's always my own third grade dream. But until that becomes filmed reality, we'll have to settle for 2012.
Buy lots of popcorn and prepare to laugh your head off in sheer destructive glee!
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