Embrace Mystery

On comes the stream.  One hundred items blur by on the rss feed, fifty emails have me wondering if maybe I really do need the little blue pill, three newspapers collapsed into a heap on my desktop leave me aware but uniformed.  

A life can be spent amidst the stream of data.  

Receive data.  Process.  Update worldview.
Receive data.  Process.  Commentary.
Receive data.  Process.  Experience?

On any given day I am carried by the stream into conversations with far flung friends, through fantastic worlds blazing with battles between good and evil, alongside the pains of poverty and the beauty of culture. I watch the world experiencing in simulation.   And if I am honest, I prefer the simulation.

The simulation is safe.  So much easier to imagine poverty and send money, so much easier to read than to experience, so much easier to type than to talk.  I am by nature a frightened person, not one for new experiences, not one for challenges.  And so I have embraced the stream, my near life.

Two new voices sound now asking what and why?  These voices are not from the stream.  These are life not simulated.  They have shaken me.  They have called me out from within the stream.  Come live.  Come be.  Come show us.

And so it is that I have begun to venture out.  Near life will not be sufficient for them, so neither will it be for me.  I will touch, taste, smell, see.  I will experience.  I invite you to join me here at this travelogue for a untraveler.  More data for the stream.

And maybe we can experience each other.  

Outside the stream.

...or keeping up with the Jones'...

Reported yesterday by CNN, "It's estimated that 40 million Americans have what experts call a sexless marriage (having sex less than 10 times a year)."  Considering that only about 120 million of us are married, we are a sad lot indeed.  So, to all of you married folks, here's hoping that you beat the odds.

Today while walking through the aisles of Costco I heard a voice that I somehow knew was directed at me.  "Senior, Desculpame por favor."  Having lived where I do for four years my response is well conditioned... "Oh crap, now what."

I turned and saw a Hispanic man, probably my age but looking a lot older.  "Tiene una tarjeta senior?"  A strange question when you consider that you need a card to get into the store.  "Si, tengo."  I replied.  The man then proceeded, very nervously, to ask me if I would use my card and pay so he could check out.  I said yes and he hastily pushed an assortment of bills pulled from three different pockets into my hand.  I took the package of diapers from his hand, went up front and paid.  He thanked me and I went about my business.

I should have bought him a card.  I didn't but I should have.

We have been "poor".  We have received government aide.  We have had to pay bills on a credit card.  But I can't even begin to envision myself asking a stranger in a store for such an awkward favor to save a few bucks.  I am not saying that I am above it or that I am too proud to do it (though I probably am) only that in my world - in my white, educated, middle class world - no one is ever that poor. 

I can stand at a pulpit or type away at a keyboard calling friends, neighbors and country to defend and work on behalf the poor, but for today at least I am humbled, I am ashamed and I am saddened at my own blindness.

Most people have no idea what Screen Calibration is.  I, being an idiot, do.

Screen calibration is the painful process of learning that your photos suck.

OK, more explaination. 

You take a few shots with your fancy digital camera.  Then you transfer them to your computer.  Some look terrible so you transfer them to the "eh I should never attempt any creative pursuit" directory.  A few look OK, but they are too dark, too warm, or an ugly shade of green.  So you fire up your photo modification software and make 'em look pretty.  You proudly show friends.

But little do you know that your photos suck.

The good news is that it is not your fault.  It's your screen's.

You see every screen displays differently.  Some are brighter, some are color biased, all have their own unique set of parameters with the result that images that look great on your screen look eck on everyone else's.

And so, if you are serious about photography you calibrate your screen.  Using a sensor that lies flat on your screen, software analyzes your screen and adjusts it to a universal norm.  The result of this process, besides a few hundred bucks sent off to the screen calibrator company, is that your images will look good on any calibrated screen and, more importantly, will print true to your display.

But there is a horrible, terrible downside to screen calibration.

I now have nearly 10,000 images that look like crap.  They are all too dark and too blue.  Images that I once thought were perfectly exposed and color balanced now are a stop dark and and way cool.  Turns out that my aim was true but my target was off.

I have written an automator script that will allow me to repair the images but doing so is still a long tedious process and to be honest I am overwhelmed by the idea.  And so, for now at least, I will have to content myself with having 10,000 underexposed images.

Bah.

I am a snob. That's right, I am an elitist, discriminating bon vivant. It's OK, I'm good with it.

Because, you see, I have discovered a secret.

It turns out that all of us, regardless of class, buy as much as we possibly can and then, we buy a little more.

The result of this foolish philosophy should be clear. We all end up with large amounts of mediocre stuff.

I don't want mediocre stuff.

So, I have a new philosophy.

Buy less, but spend more.

Consider an example. Grocery Stores.

There is a grocery story in my town. (Yes, only one. Count your blessings.) The grocery store is called FoodsCo. It smells funny. But, if you are interested in buying a metric butt-load of food on the cheap, FoodsCo is there fore you. Never mind that you can smell the meat department from the entryway of the store. Never mind that the produce is frozen. Never mind that the dairy products are - on the whole - expired. Mac and Cheese 4 for a buck. Whatyagonnado?

Being a snob, I don't buy my food at FoodsCo.

My search for a proper grocery store has, since the glory of Central Market, been long and arduous. For years I have driven a half an hour for groceries. (An hour when I am feeling ambitious.) So for me, it was a big decision to try a new grocery store. Over the last two weeks I have been shopping at the most expensive grocery store in the area.

And I like it.

The quality of the food is excellent. The selection is great. The staff is knowledgeable and very helpful. But those are obvious. There are little things that I love. On each refrigerated or frozen case there are digital readout thermometers. 29 and 14 degrees respectively. Very nice. The butcher knows exactly what is in the meat-loaf mix. At my last grocery store I asked and was led to the powered mix aisle. Nnackth. And you have to specifically ask for plastic.

But there is a problem.

It is expensive. I'd say on average 10% more, somethings less somethings 50% or more. Since I have not yet found the magical money tree this leads to some problems. I could, I suppose, transfer money from some other part of the budget, but... well lets just say we don't have that kind of budget. So there is only one solution. I have to buy less. I walked out today with a half a basket of simple food. Meat, bread, grains, fruit, veg, dairy. The most elaborate foods I bought were a soup from the deli and a jar of Prego Organic Tomato Sauce.

Less, higher quality, simpler, more expensive food for a less, higher quaility, simpler, more expensive kind of life.

Yeah. I am OK being a snob.

For several months this Blog was regularly updated with a series of ongoing columns covering my quirky methods of spirituality, then, suddenly, I disappeared. Since that time, many of you, especially those old friends with whom I have stayed connected though Blogs, have asked, “Where did you go?” My answer up until this point has been something of the caliber, “Uh, well...”

Now I am ready to answer more fully and explain where I have been for the last several months.

The story begins about a year ago when life was great. My family was well, our youngest daughter had finally outgrown colic, our oldest had outgrown being a three year old pain in the rear and we were flying. The church where I lead and teach was growing, we had employed a second pastor who was a great partner in the ministry and the funding was flowing in. Life was, dare I say it, fun.

Then all hell broke loose.

It began with something of an internal itch. Having, for the first time in years, time to think, time to breathe, I became aware of a latent need in my life. I needed to create. You could certainly say that I had been creative with regards to my career. Starting a church, teaching every week, planning events, all these require a certain degree of creativity to be successful. But for each of these creativity is a secondary requirement. I wanted to create for creation's sake, for art's sake.

Soon my repressed creative libido exploded and I found myself using any spare time I had to pursue my creative interests, photography, tinkering, making, hacking, robotics, etc. For the time at least, my internal itch was satiated.

Then came the external hammer. For reasons that I still don't quite understand our church tanked. We lost several key families, mostly to out of the area moves, our funding disappeared and by six months ago we had lost our second pastor, I had gone several months without pay and even then (and today) was only making 40% of what we needed to survive the wasteland of the California economy.

I was depressed, hurt, angry and absolutely at a loss for what to do next. I have been worse in my life, but not often.

One of the amazing things about a good marriage is that for a family to really be down and out, both spouses have to fall. Six months ago, I was out cold, face flat on the mat, but my wife was still flying high. My wife had, at about the same time I began to recognize my creative desires, begun to reacquire her desire to be a nurse. You have to understand that this was a very difficult process for her. While she loves being a nurse, there is in her life a powerful unseen voice that constantly reminds her that she is “supposed” to be a mother, and anything other is a failure on her part. Driven by a mixture of necessity and courage she silenced the internal antagonist, returned to work as a nurse and now has embraced her career. She is good at it too.

So six months ago I found my career - my life - in shambles. I was a full time dad with no idea where to go next. As God is wont to do at times like this - again for reasons I don't understand - He brought a mountain of job opportunities to my door-front. At one point I actually had five viable opportunities to choose from.

But I couldn't choose any of them.

I couldn't choose them because I have a family to support, by staying at home and taking care of my kids so my wife can pursue her dream. And I couldn't do it because I just couldn't do it any more. I am “supposed” to be a pastor. I was born and bred to be a pastor; I have the talent set, training and experience to be a pastor. But by six months ago I had realized that being a pastor is not what I want to do.

I want to be an artist whose work points to the Way of Jesus.

And so, finally, we get to the answer, “Where did I go?”

I began this Blog for the purpose of priming my creative pump. Priming for what? I wasn't sure at the time. I did know that I needed to create and so this Blog was born, with the intention for it to be the evolutionary force adapting me from institutional pastor to Jesus creative. So for months I experimented. And then it happened.

Within a span of one week I had three formative conversations - all with women by the way - that allowed me to break through the last remaining walls blocking me from a creative vision for my life.

I am going to write.

Finally.

And so where have I been? I have been writing, several hours a week, every week for a number of months now. And unfortunately my life dictates that I only have so many hours a week to write, thus the Blog got dropped. Will this writing take me anywhere? I don't know. How long can it last? I don't know. Am I any good? I don't know.

What I do know is this. Sitting in front of my computer, cranking out a thousand words an hour, I am happy.

So what about this Blog? Well, it will become a personal story, images and accounts of my life and journeys. I don't promise to post often, and I promise that I won't say much, but for my friends, I am here. Thank you for sticking with me over the last year, thank you for being with me through this process.

After holding a crying hysterically, sick child for six hours today.

Going back to the college dorm for this one....

The Mystery - John Michael Talbot

Could you be finding the mystery you have been looking for
a kingdom where servants will come to be kings are you looking for
and you'll know that the sweet paradoxes unfold
and the mystery will clearly show
and you'll know and you'll know
Jesus paint my life
Jesus paint my life
Jesus paint my life
And we know you are the master painter
coming the true prince of peace
And we know you are the true creator
coming the king of kings
Jesus paint my life with charity
Jesus paint my life with mercy
Paint my life

can you be the light of the world
can you be the light
and take the light that is given to you
can you be the light
can you give your love to the world
can you give your love
and take the love that's given to you
can you give your love

Jesus paint my life with charity
Jesus paint my life with mercy
Paint my life

This morning I found myself in my ideal environment.  

I sat in our local coffee house, drinking a “coffee” that must have had 600 calories, eating a breakfast sandwich, Metallica blasting through my noise canceling headphones, hacking away at my favorite computer ever, writing a subversive story called The Soulwinner.  Oh, and its cold, foggy and damp outside.  

May it always be.

Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known. - Garrison Keillor, American Humorist and Radio Personality

Every once in a while you experience a catharsis. It happened to me on Sunday.

I decided that I wanted cheesecake. Cheesecake is hard to make so I wimped out and went to our local market - a discount place that my buddy calls a "used food store" - to hunt for a reasonable facsimile of cheesecake. As I walked though the store I was appalled. All around me walked dozens of migrant workers, many of whom, I have learned over the last three years, are indigenous people of southern Mexico. These are the people that the field workers look down on. To my eyes these people looked half dead. Old women in ratty slippers and nearly see through sleep shirts, clearly the cast offs of someone's wardrobe, children with teeth half rotted out of their heads, men and women no older than I stooped and broken, not walking but shuffling.

And so I bought my cheesecake, got into my car to return to my half million dollar house appointed with everything and anything that I want. I turned on my radio.

"I want to know why Hemmingway cracked, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction."

Stranger than Fiction - Bad Religion

A febrile shocking violent smack
The children are hoping for a heart attack,
Tonight the windows are watching,
The streets all conspire,
And the lamppost cant stop crying,
If I could fly high above the world,
Would I see a bunch of living dots spell the world stupidity? ,
Or would I see hungry lover homicides,
Loving brother suicides,
And olly olly oxenfrees,
Who pickaside and hide

The world is scratching at my door,
My morning papers got the scores,
The human interest stories, and the obituary

Cockroach naps and rattling traps,
How many devils can you fit upon a match head? ,
Caringosity killed the kerouac cat,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

In my alley around the corner,
Theres a wino with feathered shoulders,
And a spirit giving head for crack and hell never want it back,
Theres a little kid and his family eating crackers like thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperados scornful of living

The world is scratching at my door....

Cradle for a cat, wolfe looks back,
How many angels can you fit upon a match?
I want to know why hemingway cracked,
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

Life is the crummiest book I ever read,
There isnt a hook, just a lot of cheap shots,
Pictures to shock and characters an amateur would never dream up

Children give their creations as gifts.  Whether it is a picture drawn for grandma, a Lego tower or a lovely plastic fruit pie, children excitedly offer up their art as gifts to those they love.  Art is a gift.  Your art is a gift.  

As the work of creation neared its end, God saw the world that he had made, in all its beauty, and called it good.  Vast mountain landscapes, the intricate designs of a leaf's surface, the myriad of God's indulgences - beauty tucked away in every corner of our universe, destined to never be seen by humanity - it was, and is, all good.  But it was not complete.

God saw in his good creation a lacking, God saw that the beauty he had created was stagnant, a static image on the canvas of being.  God knew that for creation to be complete it needed a creator - a being capable of carrying on the act of creation.  And so we were made.  And it was very good.

Our natural behavior is to create.  This can be seen in kids, but chances are it can also be seen in you.  Maybe you are a traditionally artistic type, painting, writing music or telling stories.  But it may also be that your creativity expresses itself in other ways.  My wife makes cards and scrapbooks, a number of my friends are programmers, still others may be builders, teachers, pastors or a host of other non-traditional creatives who embrace their natural inclination to make.

I have the sneaking suspicion that many of us have a hidden creativity that we are somehow ashamed to share.  Certainly we are willing to use our creative abilities to improve our work - to write a great report, to solve a particularly difficult his problem, to give a knock out presentation - but we do not allow our creativity space for itself.  We tell ourself that creativity is the adobe of children, that it is a waste of time, that we haven't the talent, that we haven't the time.  That it does matter.

It does matter.

It matters to you.  You will not be happy until you embrace the dream that God has made in you.  It does not matter how successful you become, how busy you make yourself, how much money you make, if you are not doing what you believe at the hidden center of your soul that God has made you to do you can not find happiness.  

It matters to others.  The idea that you have in your head, whatever that idea may be, is a gift to the world.  You might say to yourself that no one wants this idea that is rolling around in your head, you might say you don't have the skills or the tools to produce your creation.  But remember this, the creative dream that God has given to you is unique.  If it is not made by you, it will never exist.  You have a gift for creation.

It matters to God.  I can't imagine our children not imagining, not drawing, telling stories, painting, creating.  A child devoid of creativity would be a tragedy.  A child of God voiding her creativity would be a tragedy.

A happy marriage overwrites parenting mistakes.