Numb to Christmas this year...

I've never really been into Christmas that much. As a young child I was. I remember leaving my uncle's house hearing sleigh bells in the sky as Santa's sleigh was near. I'd watch Rudolph and all the cartoon specials with a sparkle in my eyes affixed to the television. Something happened, though, and as I got older, I became less interested in Christmas. For the past few years it's been more of an aggravation than anything. However, I would get pissed off, going the opposite of the joy I felt as a kid.

This year it's different. I'm pretty much near indifferent. It could be because, by and large, the television remains off and I rarely listen to the radio. It's a lot easier to tune out Internet advertising with pop-up blockers and whatnot. I canceled my newspaper subscription because I didn't feel like dealing with twenty pounds of ads. I'm relatively insulated from the barrage of advertising. Perhaps the only real reminder is all the crap in the stores and the traffic. I went out for Saturday morning coffee the day after Black Friday and turned around and came home before even getting into the parking lot.

I'm not a Scrooge. No, that requires too much emotional import. I've become more of a hermit. I can't say I'm sagelike as there is no "spiritual" meaning behind what I'm doing. I'm not anti-Christmas, anti-consumer, anti-commercialism. That takes too much work. I'm just doing my best to ignore it all.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the family time and there is a certain amount of peace and nostalgia that surrounds the season. There is joy to be found.

But even church can be annoying in this regard, hocking their wares, calling it Jesus' birthday rather than Christmas, the obligatory manger scenes plastered all over town in their various degrees of plasticity (we have one nursing home that actually brings in a live camel) and those well meaning Christians who fight every year to keep the 'Christ' in Christmas.

Jesus wouldn't care. He was Jewish.

Been a while...

Amazing how quickly a month can pass.

Part of the reason is that I have become disinterested in spiritual debate. Too much Zen perhaps? It simply doesn't interest me right now. I'm currently "translating" the Dao De Jing, something I've dabbled in for well over ten years now. I put together a spiral bound version that contains six or seven of the more popular translations per each of the 81 chapter headings. It's a couple hundred pages thick. It's a nice instant reference but it isn't as good as taking the time to try and understand the Chinese original.

I can't speak Chinese. I know enough about Chinese to find characters in a dictionary and some of the more common characters I can recognize and sometimes recall some definitions. So I have a functional knowledge of the language. I understand radicals and how characters combine to make other characters. As I continue "translating" based on working with the Chinese my knowledge gets a little deeper and I see how the other translations came to be.

So lately my focus has been on the Dao De Jing. As I continue to work on it, I continue to see its truths operating around me. It isn't a mystical book at all, something escapist, revealing some esoteric truths. It's quite earthy. Anything "esoteric" truths are only so in their obviousness. As the DDJ notes, people prefer the byways. Yet what is obvious is right in front of us and can seem quite awe inspiring because it has been there all along.

So those who tend to romanticize or exoticize "eastern" religions do so in an escapist fashion. In other words, doing this is an act of self not necessarily something inherent in the religious tradition. Even the Biblical faith works this way. The deeper into it one goes, the more one should realize that it is quite practical, quite earthy and, thus, deep. It is not some "out there" religious mysticism. No, mysticism, its mystery, is in its application in the real world, not in being deep or some guru-like being.

So where am I today? Quite here and now. Drinking my ridiculously large Boo Koo energy drink, typing away on a blog that no one reads, listening to some really interesting music through my iPod Shuffle connected to some Bose Triport headphones while at work at 5:15 a.m. How is this a spiritual act? Maybe it's the caffeine but it seems that lately all of life has been infused with a spirituality I've not noticed before. It isn't anything soul shaking or mind bending. It just kind of is. It is this is-ness that is the essence of spirituality, reality as it is. Stand back and look at it. See it for what it is. Don't label it, don't try to read into it, don't try to bend it to your own sense of understanding. Just bask in it.

Abandoned buildings...

Labor Day weekend. Rode my bike down to the river. This is not the park, mind you. Too busy. Too many people. No privacy. No, this is down into the former steel mill properties, where remnants of the former industrial heyday still remain, mostly buried, mostly hidden. Across the bridge, down the small industrial road, following the tracks left by off-road vehicles. These are not hidden spots, just not frequented by masses of people. Locals know of these spots but even then they are not regular hang-outs. There are always remains of visitors, usually beer or soda cans, sometimes remnants of a fire pit, often clothing or shoes (though these sometimes wash downriver and end up on shore), but always some indication that this is not virgin territory.

As I've never been there, the thrill of discovery spurs me on, my bike providing much more freedom than an auto which attracts way too much attention. I bike is more innocuous and is easier to hide, thus providing the freedom of not having to return to a car. A bicycle cannot be easily traced. So the paths lead me down to an abandoned, rusting, hulk of a railroad bridge, covered in vines, trees cloaking much of its frame, a black colored rust its primary color. Further on down I find nature in full splendor, a gurgling river, geese and butterflies, plenty of rocks aligning the shore, allowing me to sit and take it in, the sun beating down warmly on my body.

It's a spiritual catharsis as I know I won't be bothered. No one will be coming down here so the thought doesn't enter my mind. I can let go. The difficulty comes in attempting to be still. I don't have a camera so the tendency to move and snap lots of pictures isn't present. It is thus easier to remain still. And it takes a while. It takes time. I still feel the need to go, to move, to explore, to avoid sitting still. There's a part of me that feels this whole activity is forced, that it's all a ploy, that I really want to take photos and be given attention for my "discovery" of the beauty in the ruins, that somehow I still need validation for these activities.

Yet there is a part of me that thrives in the isolation, that longs to be there and stay, away from people, away from the daily grind, away from responsibility, away from the havoc that men bring upon the earth (a havoc, I myself would inevitably do were I to stay). I bask in the silence.

But the catharsis comes. I feel it. And it comes in this most unusual spot. It isn't church, it isn't a designated park, a space where we are confined to remain within the trails. It's a bit more raw, less restricted and, I suppose, there is a trace of rebellion (though that isn't really my motive). I don't even fear being caught trespassing. I revel in the freedom the bike brings, the freedom in the power to move my bicycle, the freedom of the wind in my face, the freedom of the space, the freedom of nature, the freedom of being hidden from the rest of the world, no eyes watching, no signs posted, no rules to be enforced. It opens the door to the 'emptiness' that enables a spiritual encounter.

Spiritual dry spell?

Am I content? Or complacent?

I've lost the drive for knowledge though I am still passionate about learning. I don't desire to be deep anymore nor do I long for a spiritual high. You might say I've become quite earthy. I'm not interested in saving souls though it doesn't mean I don't care for people.

I have simply found that so much of what passes for the Christian message is nothing short of a multi-level marketing plan, a pyramid scheme, slick marketing, the essentials compacted into a slogan, parsed to fit onto a t-shirt. The idea of 'saving souls' sound like a career occupation, one where you obtain degrees, awards, certificates and notches on a belt with a 401(k) retirement plan in tow (often in the form of a book deal).

When we start seeing minister hocking commercial wares on television, as celebrity endorsements, we'll know the end is near. After all, we've got preacher superstars who draw thousands upon thousands to their shows, er, events, er services. Book deals, fancy cars, fancy clothes, huuuuuge churches, thousands traveling the country like following the Dead, abandoning the smaller churches for the Big Top.

I used to fall prey to the same thing only my response was rebellion, criticism, judgment. Yet the fuel was still that which I criticized. I have simply tired of it. So I am pretty much living the quiet life, seeking to truly be in the world but not of it, to learn to eat with the sinners and the wine bibbers, to be a true friend, not a saint, to be found in the form of a servant and not grasp at equality with God.

Wayne Dyer and the Dao De Jing...

Ok, the front page of Beliefnet, where I hang out (as if it's cool...) and debate Christianity (and, for a while, Islam) has Wayne Dyer giving advice on 'how to go with the flow' using the Dao De Jing as travel guide. Blech. It's like the difference between real maple syrup and Log Cabin syrup on your pancakes. Sorry, but it's pretty easy for Mr. Dyer to go with the flow. After all, he's been saying the same thing for years in repackaged formulas to the same people who buy his stuff and continue to fund his lifestyle. Not knocking him; he's got a gimmick that works (and, in essence, what he says is valuable).

I think I just tire of the guru thing, this cult of celebrity in the self-help and even in the Christian world. Come to think of it, the cult of celebrity is everywhere. Alan Watts was a celebrity and his fans flocked to him, his little haunt in Caliornia the 'in' thing to do spiritually. Hell, even they way Jesus is presented today he frequently resembles a superhero more than a saviour. Or he's turned into some kind of a guru where he begins to look like - you guessed it - the individual (or group) promoting Jesus' guru status.

Jesus is antihero/antiguru if we really read the accounts of his life in the New Testament.

When spirituality, whatever form, becomes hip it ceases to be relevant.

"When everyone knows good as good, this is not good." (DDJ, 2, Cleary translation)

Irony and Textual Argument...

We all know that the meanings of words evolve over time. A prime example is the word 'irony.' As made famous in Alanis Morrisete's song Ironic, she gives situations that are taken to be seen as ironic. In reality, according to the definition of ironic, these aren't. Coincidence, maybe, serendipity, maybe, they are more like what people used to call 'fate.'

What is irony? Well, to take off from Alanis' song, a man in fear of flying whose plane crashes on his first flight isn't irony. Irony would be a man afraid of flying choosing instead the safer route of driving who is killed by a plane crashing onto his car. Perhaps it is ironic that the lyrics in Alanis' song aren't ironic.

Another example of irony centers around the KLF. If anyone is familiar with their relatively brief but bright history, they might remember that the KLF (initials which stand for Kopyright Liberation Front, among others) were at the forefront of the copyright issue that is so explosive today. They borrowed stuff unapologetically beginning sometime circa 1987, though it was ultimately not without consequence. Their 'Chill Out' mix is a classic.

The irony is that in an effort to be subversive they became as popular as the artists and industry they were seeking to subvert. Is the irony that they became famous and became victims of the very same thing which they were doing? Is it irony if it is intentional? They set out to make a popular (in the basest meaning of the word) record by using a basic beat and really over the top meaningless lyrics sung sincerely, most blatantly in their use of Tammy Wynette for vocals. They succeeded. So is it ironic that they ripped other peoples' stuff off and here we are, twenty years, later, ripping off their stuff online? Or is that simply karma? Or were they prophetic?

Anyhow, people will fight over what the Bible says by quoting the King James Version of the Bible and then breaking down the English meaning of the word. But they are one step removed from the Old English usage of the word from which the KJV came and another step removed from the original Greek/Hebrew. So we are two steps removed from the original use of the word. Worse is when someone will argue from, say, the New Living Translation (which is but a paraphrase/interpretation moreso than a translation) and we are yet one more step removed. So we begin arguing over, quite literally, nothing, at least nothing in the sense that we are not fighting over what we think we are fighting over.

As time goes on, we begin to quote authors not close to the source but those who came later. And later. And later. I suppose that is why I will trace footnotes back to older and older sources in order to read what the original authors wrote. If I'm going to quote a recent author/scholar and am unfamiliar with his/her sources, how can I really understand what he/she is saying? There is nothing worse than arguing a point that isn't the point being made at all.

So where is the irony in this post? Probably that I am using so many words to argue about not arguing over words.

Theism and Daoism...

My interest in it seems to be waning. Does that mean I don't believe it? Or is it that my old notions of it are fading? I used to think of God as this mean ogre, this judgmental, punishing "being" always out to get me. As I've healed, and the feelings of guilt with it, the idea of God has taken on a new life. Less an intellectual construct now, less a childish image of "the big guy in the sky" kind of idea, 'God' is now something real, something present, transcendent yet immanent.

It is in this construct where both Theism and Daoism coalesce because we are moving out of the realm of ideas and imagery and into the real the New Testament calls the light that no man can approach and what the DDJ calls the gateway of marvels, the entrance into the mystery.

Perhaps at this Planckish point it doesn't matter. Perhaps what matters is the path leading up to this point. Perhaps it is in the realm of the imagery that guides us to this point that matters more than the actual point itself. For if the path is wrong, so too will the point be wrong and getting to the point without a path won't happen as every point arrived at is done so via a journey.

The other thing that I have noticed is that I tire of all the debates that occur in theistic faiths. I suppose the same has been done and even is done in non-theistic faiths (Daoism vs. Confucianism, for example), but the fighting over picayune details and the divisions that have occurred in Christianity (though Islam, Judaism and any other theism is not exempt from the same thing) over these details reminds me of what the Dao says about names. As soon as things splinter and are given names, we should stop as it will only get worse.

I am a Daoist at heart in the sense that I realize the limitations and trappings (and idolatry, if you will) of names, label, ideas and concepts. Ultimately we are fighting over the words, not what they mean. We are fighting over the flower or surface and not the fruit or substance (DDJ 38).

I'm sure there are Biblical injunctions to the same effect but can't recall any at the moment.

Kingdom of God within us?

"Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you." (Luke 17:21, KJV)

This is the favorite verse for those folks who don't go to church or attend anything bearing resemblance to "organized religion." It is the proof-text that we have the divine spark, that we don't need religion. It is the proof-text of the folks whose books are categorized under New Age and who frequently show up on the talk-show circuit (and best seller list) when they speak about Jesus.

Most recently I heard it quoted from the pulpit at the church we attend which caught me by surprise because this is not what the text is saying. Our pastor had noted that when we accept Christ the kingdom is within us. Yet this verse was given before Jesus died. There was no Christianity, no accepting Christ into our hearts, no Christ in us. No, he was still alive. Therefore, this doesn't make sense.

"...nor will they say, 'Look, here {it is!}' or, 'There {it is!}' For behold, the kingdom of God is in your midst." (NASB)

"...nor will they say, 'Look, here it is!' or 'There!' for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of (or within or within your grasp) you." (ESV)

Even the NLT, quite transparent in projecting interpretation as translation, renders this as among.

The term is entos, used only one other time, in Matthew 23:26, where it is translated as "inside." It can mean inside, within or interior and is used as such in the Septuagint. The word in Luke 17:21 could thus be translated as "within" but the key is to look at it in its proper context. Is it "within" in an individual sense or could it mean "within" in a more collective sense, i.e. "among"?

Look at the passage preceding it:

"Now having been questioned by the Pharisees as to when the kingdom of God was coming, He answered them and said, "The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed..." (v 20)

This passage is speaking of time, not location or position. When was the kingdom coming; what will be its signs? This refers to TIME. Jesus is simply saying, it is already present, not now, not later, neither here nor there. It is among you, it is right here, right now, though not completely. It is the now/not yet tension so present in the New Testament.

If Jesus is saying that it is already in us, then we have the divine spark and Jesus merely ignites that spark. There is no need for a new nature, no need for what he was about to do.

I think Luke is saying that we can experience, we can taste, the kingdom of God right now. It is here, among us, and access is available if we come to it with the faith of a child. But Luke is not saying it is inside of us as if it were our birthright. Luke's Gospel is quite pragmatic. When do we see the kingomd of God?

"...and heal those in it who are sick, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.'" (Luke 10:9, NASB)

"But if I cast out demons by the finger of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you." (Luk 10:20, NASB)

The "kingdom of God" that is hoped for in the future will have no sickness, no death, no sorrow, no pain. This power is available now. Christ is the harbinger of that sought out future kingdom and it is available in power right now.

It is among us.

The Dao and Christianity: Compatible?

In short, no.

Sure there are parallel sayings and on a philosophical and generic "religious" level similarities. To deny this is foolish. In fact, I often find the two merging at various points.

However, there is a big difference: in Christianity, God is personal. You pray to God, God communicates with people. God expects obedience. God expects a life devoted to Him. These expectations are absent from the overall framework of Daoism.

In Daoism, the Dao is impersonal. The Dao just is. You don't communicate with it, you don't pray to it, you don't hear its voice.

"We listen to it but do not hear it..." (14)

It is to your detriment if you don't follow the Dao but, though men exalt it, neither this nor obedience is ever commanded (51). In Christianity, obedience is expected and there are consequences established in the divine law established by a personal Creator. In Daoism, disobedience leads to destruction not from the consequences of a divine law but as a result of the "natural" order.

The closest parallel to this notion is the idea that there is a way "that seems good to man but its end is the way of death" (Prov 14:12, 16:25). As Wisdom the two share kinship.

And yet...

"This is called the formless form,

The substanceless image..." (14)

Sound familiar?

"Who is the image of the invisible God..." (Colossians 1:15)

"Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person..." (Hebrews 2:2)

It is easy to see why those Christians who study Daoism and view it favorably contend that what Laozi and Zhuangzi were longing for is Christ, whose light shone through Daoism but whose time had not yet come. Laozi and Zhuangzi would have recognized the Christ of faith. In other words, Christianity adds "personality" to the Dao.

From the point of view of Daosim, however, all of Christian theology is, in the end, just words. Lots of them. He who knows does not say; he who says, does not know (56). So the more words, the more likely it is that less is being said. Words serve a purpose; however, I think Daoism provides a necessary corrective to the tendency in theistic theologies to idolize words and theories (though philosophizing, including the Daoist kind, in general has the same tendency).

Daoism is ultimately nameless (cf. Ch 32); Christianity believes that a name is essential (cf. Acts 4:12).

In the experience at the point where self is abandoned perhaps it could be argued that there is kinship which then dissolves into discussions of the perennial philosophy which may not be an essence but something ascended toward, i.e. it is a conclusion not a presupposition.

In Daoism there is no salvation, only return; in Christianity, there is no return, only salvation (though, perhaps the "born again" idea in Christianity is similar in the sense that we must "return" to a state of innocence to experience the true Way).

Other shared ideas would be that desire is the root cause of all evils in the world. In Daoism, as in Christianity, the true leader is the servant; true greatness comes in the least greatness; he who wishes to be first must find himself last; one must be soft and yielding in order to truly be firm and grounded.

Daoism's emphasis on these things might be a good reminder of the same ideas found in the Christian tradition as Christianity contains these ideas and then some though often these ideas seem to take a back seat as men, even Christians, seek power.

And the power sought by men in the world is a danger. Both Daoism and Christianity find agreement there. This world is only temporary. Better is it not to get bogged down in the temporal and superficial trappings of being human.

The wordless teaching...

For a teaching without words, it sure generates a lot of words. I suppose I should shut up.

Love in the Dao?

"I have Three Treasures;
Guard them and keep them safe:
The first is Love.
The second is, Never too much.
The third is, Never be first in the world." (67, Yutang translation)

Other translations speak of compassion, rather than filial love, though this is merely another angle of the meaning of the term. Mothers have compassion on their children, no matter what they do.

"Through Love, one has no fear..."

"For love is victorious in attack."

How? Becuase they are other focused. The common people's hearts and minds are that of the person of the Dao. So too in warfare. Not the attacker, not the initiator of warfare, merely the one in defense. It is in the yielding where victory comes as by yielding one's self, the Dao may be made manifest and the "other" may come to realization on his own.

"The best of men is like water;
Water benefits all things
And does not compete with them.
It dwells in (the lowly) places that all disdain --
Wherein it comes near to Dao." (8)

"The softest substance of the world
Goes through the hardest." (43)

A solitary drip of water will, over time, penetrate and break down a solid rock.

"There is nothing weaker than water
But none is superior to it in overcoming the hard.
For which there is no substitute.
That weakness overcomes strength
And gentleness overcomes rigidity,
No one does not know;
No one can put it into practice" (78)

And thus the paradox. Even Jesus speaks the same idea. And yet look at how difficult it is for men to lay aside the lust for power. But those who have used this approach have overturned empires, bringing those in power to their knees without the assertion of power in return.

Reversion is the action of the Dao...

I kind of burned out on the whole religion thing. I found myself reading Lin Yutang's translation of the Dao De Jing. I have about ten other translations, his is one I do not have. I think it had to do with the fact that he was a Christian (as was Wing Tsit Chan). Why would that matter? I suppose I was concerned with bias. And I can see traces of it in his translation (the terms 'God' and 'prophets' are found and seem out of place). However, that being said, his is a very elucidating translation.

"Rule a kingdom by the Normal.
Fight a battle by (abormal) tactics of surprise.
Win the world by doing nothing." (57)

Reading this I realized that fighting a battle is a concession. In other words, the idea of fighting a battle using tactics of surprise (what some call 'deceit') is not glorified as a command. The Normal is to rule a kingdom by by doing nothing.

"I do nothing and the people are reformed of themselves."

In other words, it is by moral influence (i.e. wu wei) that people are transformed.

The word for 'tactics of surprise' is ch'i, the same word translated as 'cunning' later in this passage:

"The more skills of technique,
The more cunning things are produced."

So in a state of warfare, things are abnormal and thus abnormal techniques are to be used. Chapter 30 breaks down the use of force quite succinctly. Force, weapons and soldiers are bad. However, they are sometimes a "regrettable necessity" (30). When soldiers are used the "best policy is calm restraint" (30). The goal is not territory, not power, not anything other than things returning to Normal. So the ruler/general must effect his purpose but that is all.

In conjunction with Chapter 69 it is quite clear that the use of force, though shunned, is for self defence only.

"I dare not to be the first to invade, but rather to be invaded.
Dare not press forward an inch, but rather retreat a foot." (69)

Yutang calls Chapter 60 'Camouflage' which is quite appropriate. This is not calling for passivitiy.

"There is no greater catastrophe than to underestimate the enemy." (69)

The call is for humility, not boasting, not aggression, not selfish motives. In keeping with the spirit of the Dao, by not contending, no one is able to contend. It is by displaying this humility, by yielding (which is not the same as surrendering or giving in), that one "wins" a conflict.

When an agressor attacks by displaying this yielding it tempers the desire of the enemy. When one fights back aggressively, the two energies feed on one another and a battle for power ensues.

Though there is a hint of Christianese in his translation of verse 67, it is quite fitting. The love here is not the same as the Biblical idea of love but is the love a mother has toward her children, a filial love. In that sense, there is a hint of affection of Heaven toward her children. And it is this that is passed on to others.

"If one forsakes love and fearlessness,
forsakes restraint and reserve power,
forsakes following behind and rushes in front,
He is doomed!

For love if victorious in attack,
And invulnerable in defense.
Heaven arms with love
Those it would not see destroyed." (67)

I fell into the stream of the Dao sometime in the early 90s. Here I am, over a decade letter, still captivated.

Closet Muslim?

I can rationalize and say that the Western media is biased toward Islam and the only reports given about Islam are the negative. On the flip side, there is the other extreme where Islam is completely removed from historical context and is whitewashed with claims of it being a tolerant religion whose real meaning is peace. Anyone who studies it's history knows that is simply not true, unless we redefine what is meant be peace. Peace, from the historical point of view, most certainly does not mean what we think of as peace today. Peace, from this point of view, does not mean live and let live.

With all of the atrocities being committed proudly in the name of Islam, why would anyone even consider converting? Why is it that Western converts frequently become anti-Western? Was it already present and thus a factor toward conversion? Or does it develop? I can't tell you how many websites I've visited of converts to Islam whose rhetoric becomes a diatribe about the West and its evils. They do not seem to be happy people.

So what is the hold Islam has over me? Well, Christian theology for one. And I'm not even talking about the cross of Christ. No, I'm talking about the theology derived from it. It divides. Some say this is a good thing, the wheat from the chaff. But how many denominations are there? How many heresies have there been throughout the history of the church and how many are there today? We spend more time fighting over doctrine than doing what Jesus said to do. That is my issue. I guess it's what human beings do. We like to know we are right.

So Islam's claim of the Oneness of God is appealing. The claim that all religions have strayed from the original Primal teaching is also appealing, especially considering my experiences with Daoism. The God-man thing makes Jesus sound like a supehero, a cartoon character. To promote this as the main message of the Gospel is something I cannot do.

Yet I cannot convert to Islam as it does not address the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. It denies it certainly. But by default, not directly. And, as such, the traditions of Islam are filled with fantastical, and ridiculous, stories of what happened. No, in order to become a Muslim I would have to deny the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus. For whatever this means and however it is understood and interpreted, there is no way to do this without acknowledging the entire thing as a myth.

Islam just seems to me to be a very natural, very human, very fluid religion. Too much so. And that is the problem. You can create your own Muhammad, create your own Islam. You just can't tell anyone. So for whatever "islam" I hold in my heart, it is mine. And there will be no declaration of faith as I cannot deny what the Bible says about Jesus.

I may question what men say the Bible says but to deny the Biblical record wholesale? I don't think so.

Numbness...

Again. I seem to be spiraling into numbness, this gravitational pull down into the abyss.

The Dao of distraction...

My first truly "spiritual" experience was framed within the context of the Dao. I had been studying the Dao De Jing for a few years, quite intensely for several months, when I had an epiphany at the top of Yosemite Falls. Never had I been so alone yet never had I felt so completely at one with in the universe, as hippy dippy as that sounds. It was my entry into the path.

As I have learned, post epiphany was downhill. Why? Because I was more in tune with a deeper reality and had to shed the superficiality in which I was living. I did not realize just how much of a hold this had on me. And I'm not just talking about "stuff". I have never placed much emphasis on "stuff". I drive cars until they fall apart, wear clothes until they fall of my body, and eat pretty much the same boring thing day after day. I'm not glamorizing this as if I'm all saintly. No, I've never really much cared a whole lot. As long as I had the freedom to come and go as I pleased, that was enough for me. But even this can be a superficial hold, a distraction from reality.

And it is distraction that has been my biggest hurdle in terms of a truly spiritual life.

Even intellectualism can be a distraction, the pursuit of knowledge for knowledge's sake nothing but distraction from dealing with life on life's terms.

So today I am distracted by my distractions. They have as of late cancelled each other out and I am left with empty space. I'm not used to the silence.

Ok, so I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday...

Sometimes it takes a day like yesterday to get perspective on where we are. By the end of the day I was really sick of me. So of course the message at church this morning was on the Kingdom. In other words, the satisfaction of one's life is in direct proportion to the focus on self. Complete focus on self leads to complete misery. A fulfilled life is determined by how much one focuses on others.

Now, without being centered (however you understand that), total focus on others can in itself be a selfish act, whether it is being done out of lack (and thus with expectation, no matter how subtle, of benefit) or with the motive of achievement. In other words, it really isn't about the other as the other is but a mean to an end and that end is self.

No, this other centeredness must emanate from a center and that center must be free of self. Only then does it work. Only then can you expand outwards towards other free of the pollution of selfish motives and, in return, receive back, without expectation but by a natural process, the true self.

Without getting all New Agey, Christ is the center and we reflect Christ to others; in return, by interacting with others, Christ is reflected back to us (our perception determining how this is seen). We are but mirrors for Christ. The "true" us is Christ. As Paul says, it is no longer "I" but Christ living in me. In this sense, the more Christ is in us the more "I" am Christ.

So, as usually happens, when we let it, God once again shows me up. Which is good. That means I was not too far out of alignment. A little corrective, a little forgiveness and a little humility and growth can once again occur.

Yes, loss of hope is really a failure to be grateful.

Bad day...

Nobody cares. Really. For the most part, every issue we face, everything we do, all that we accumulate and amass over our lifetime, all that we give away and contribute to amounts to diddly squat. Nobody cares.

I got jacked up at the plasma center today.

















(This photo was taken several days later but it gives a good idea of why I had to wear long sleeve shirts in the middle of summer...)

Put a hole in my vein, bled out around the needle, now, ten hours later, my arm is beginning to look blue. They stuck my other arm...nothing. Two hours, one waiting, one being prodded like a corpse, and ten bucks is what I get, five dollars for each stick. Unbelievable. And I probably won't be able to donate this week 'cause my arm is jacked up. I realized today what it feels like to be a commodity. Wow. It's bad enough I sell my blood for oil but just what this means became clear today.

It started with some dipshit cutting in line in front of me. No apologies, nothing, just stepped right up. It happens all the time, people whose lives are such that this is their assertion of power. So I let him. But it rattled me. It started me off. And of course when I was getting stuck he was in the bed right in front of me so I could look right at him.

And the very fact that I am stating this, looking at it, realizing just what my situation is, it saddens me deeply. How did I get here? How is it that this is somehow ok?

But I exercised damn it. I iced my arm for several hours, put a hot towel on it to try and bleed it out and I worked my back and biceps today. Kiss my ass, jackin' me up like that. Sorry I'm not too expressive today, profanity a substitute for some anger convoluted through poetics. I'm pissed. And tired. And I feel like I'm disappearing, like I could just vanish.

It's not even that no one would notice. I would just be gone. I'm partially there. Maybe what I really desire is that it just happen that way so I can be done with it. I'm basically a sponge, a consumer, taking, taking, taking. What do I contribute? Obviously nothing as my circle of influence is pretty small. Aloof, bored, arrogant. This is how I appear. And maybe this is who I am.

Everything seems stupid, in a pointless, futile kind of way, not in a way that I know so much better. Because I don't. But I am failing today to see the point.

I have no joy at the moment. Even my love for music fails to move me. It all seems boring. Have I lost faith? Have I no love? Is this what it means to lose hope? And it isn't because of the plasma incident. No, it goes much deeper than that. It's been coming on for years and I feel completely helpless to stop it.

It feels as if I am dying, slowly, rotting from the inside out. It will be a long time before my body catches up to how I actually feel inside. It's horrible to say these thing because from appearances, I've got it good. Good health, healthy family, a job (well, two...plus blood for oil), a roof over my head, food in my belly, reliable transportation, a right mind and relative freedom (except that irritating suburban groupthink thing).

And yet...

My last thoughts before going under the knife...

I had some minor surgery yesterday, a couple of lumps removed from my back. I wasn't aware prior to yesterday that I'd actually be anesthetized, figuring it was minor surgery with just a little localized numbing.

I've always asked questions, watched them when they stick me with the needle, always wanting to know what's going on (or in). So I was quite aware and present when they put the sleeping solution in. I was quite aware of the feeling that I was going under, the heaviness, the loss of motor functions. It's quite a cool feeling. I kept repeating, "I'm about outta here, huh?"

Anyhow, my last thoughts/words were "Thank you, Jesus." It was a warm, peaceful feeling, quite comforting.

I really do hope that what we are taught to and come to believe is true in the end. I really do hope someday to meet him and see the truth, knowing even as we are now known.

Headz...the file sharing debate...

So it's the weekend, Saturday morning, and I'm at work...again. I've just listened to Flunk's For Sleepyheads Only, a gem of an album that is a great way to mellow out. There's enough variety in the music to capture the many moods and rail them toward a singularity of pensiveness.

Next on the playlist was the Headz compliation from Mo' Wax records from the mid-90s. This thing is long out of print on CD and command upwards of $100 to obtain. I happened across it online and have this volume as well as Headz 2A (currently listed at amazon for $158) and 2B (not listed at amazon). Both 2A and 2B are being listed on ebay at the moment, 4 LPs each for a total of 8 LPs. Bidding is at $30. If I were to pay this price for any of these, I couldn't bear to listen to them because they cost so damn much money.

So I downloaded all three comps. Respect to the musicians and the record label. Reality check. The record label and musicians will never see another penny out of out of print merchandise. The only ones profiting on these now are the owners and ebay. The sad truth is I do not feel any remorse for downloading these.

In fact, had I not downloaded these I may never have discovered some of the artists on the package and sought out their other work, some of which I've actually paid money to obtain though obtaining them used, the artist/label won't see a dime of my money.

But I enjoy the music. It's some of the finest I've heard in a long time, especially in today's musically sanitized bubble filled with corporately cloned imitation of music. It's a throwback to the time when the beat actually meant something. So I rave about the compilations and, more significantly, the musicians.

So in terms of file sharing. It's no different than swapping vinyl as a teenager in the 80s or sharing cassettes or copying an LP onto cassette for a friend. It's just that as technology has changed and become more efficient, the methods of copying and sharing has also gotten more efficient. The Internet has merely taken what has been a rite of passage and put it on an infinitely greater scale. Now the little that the record companies lost by friends trading tapes has increased to a worldwide market of individuals on an anonymous scale.

Everything in this day and age is exaggerated. File sharing is no different. And I avoid Morpheus, Limewire and the rest like the plague. It's easy pickin' for lawsuit hungry record company lawyers. There are other means of downloading that avoid this route altogether.

So I agree, support your favorite artists. If at all possible, go see their show (though, again $50 and up for a ticket is about a day or more's wage for most fans). Buy their merchandise, hopefull from their own site, if available, where they may reap the most benefit. The day is coming when the means of distribution will no longer be in the hands of the few but will, for the savvy musician, be in the musician's own hand to distribute as seen fit.

My personal favorite idea is this: if you download some music, send the musician/band a check directly.

Why am I not a Muslim?

Here is how I perceive the difference between the two faiths.

Islam is natural. It is easy, recognizable, something of a "yeah", what the Qur'an calls a Reminder. It is like a homecoming, something you intuitively know but it is spelled out for you. That is why it is called "reversion" instead of "conversion." The signs of God are all around. Look at nature, the pattern of night and day, the growth of plants and all the natural phenomena. The Qur'an states that everything has been created in pairs, either in the sense of mates, male and female, or in the sense of the sphere of duality within which man operates (e.g. dark/light, good/bad, right/wrong, etc.). While there are some proscriptions in the Qur'an that are difficult to accept, the overall theological picture is quite simple.

Christianity is not natural. At least not on the surface. It isn't a homecoming. It is a complete rupture of what we think of when we think of God. Trinity. Incarnation. Death of God. The God-man. All these concepts Christians trumpet proudly are actually disruptive both in the sense of causing a complete change in our worldview and also in the sense that they are a distraction from the true essence of the message of Jesus. The theology is not easy. It is not a "reversion." It is almost unnatural, thus the reason so many Christians seem to look down on nature, both human and in the world at large. No, Christianity is a constant struggle.

So why not Islam? Obviously, it sounds appealing. There are three reasons.

1) Muhammad. I have no idea who he was. With all that is written about him, you can basically pick and choose and create your own Muhammad. Simple man, fixed his own clothes, allowed his wives to talk back to him, gentle with children, submissive to God. Or he was a war monger who was interested in power and used religion to obtain it. And just about everything in between. There is more written about Muhammad in the traditions attributed to him than there are about Jesus. And it is impossible to really know who he was. The "living Qur'an"? Well, if I can't understand him, how can I understand the Qur'an? I can't as I will interpret it according to my experience.

2) Aisha. Tradition asserts that she was six when betrothed to Muhammad, nine when their marriage was consummated. He was in his fifties. I don't care about the culture of the time. That is deeply disturbing. Even if we question the sources and bump her age up into her teens, it's still peculiar. Either those who told the tale that she was six or nine were projecting their own culture onto Muhammad or it happened as it has been related. And the fact that there are questions surrounding it verify my issue #1.

3) Beating your wife. Surah 4:34. Not much to say there. Unless that is reinterpreted and shown to be wrong and accepted by the majority of scholars to mean something akin to "separation" then the verse in the Qur'an is horrible. Period. No matter how we reason it out. Even acknowledging that it was perhaps a limiting verse on previous practice, it is still bothersome that it is in there, spelled out that clearly. Truly it gives permission to the husband. And, human nature what it is, will not be seen as a limitation but as a command.

Those are the three primary reasons I am not a Muslim.

Why am I a Christian?

1) Jesus. Plain and simple. I have never encountered a figure of his stature. And this isn't buying into the God-man thing. That doesn't interest me a whole lot. I have found that wherever it is that we go in our spiritual journey, from the highs to the lows, Jesus is there. He is us. He is our mirror. When we look at him, he reflects back to us who we really are and we thus ascend toward being like him.

For every injustice, trauma or damage we suffer, he was crucified. Perfect love. Sinless. Human with a capital "H". He taught us how to love. He has shown us the love of God. He has shown us God. In his person.

Even if we argue that the New Testament is corrupt and all the other attacks of critics, there is still a very clear and precise picture of who Jesus is. We may differ on some points but overall, this picture is clear. And this picture is of a man that you wish to follow. By following in his footsteps, by doing what he says, you begin to see what it means to really follow God, to really love and to really love.

It is paradoxical and it turns your world upside down. And in doing so you become more and more like Jesus; you become more and more human. And in doing so, God becomes a very real presence in your life.

Surah 4:157 (Part II)

So how to reconcile Christian belief with that of Islam? It can't be done, though the tales in Islamic tradition of Jesus being raised are actually the closest we can come. But these traditions are non-sensical and require more faith to believe than those of the Christian claims.

No, what the Qur'an says is that the Jewish boasts are false. The crucifixion never happened. Crucifixions happened (and the Qur'an claims this happened during Egyptian's heyday which is another story altogether) according to the Qur'an. But not to Jesus. The Jews falsely believed this and their bragging of it is false.

If in fact the Qur'an is speaking about Christians in this verse, it could only be if Christians were calling the Jews of the region "Christ-killers" (something easily found in the Christian historical record) and the Qur'an is refuting this claim.

But the verse is not a historical account of what happened. It is apparent that Jesus was persecuted, as Muhammad was persecuted, as all Prophets have been persecuted, but there is no interest in validating Christian claims that Jesus was crucified. The Qur'an does not answer what happened to him. It does not answer what happened to any of the Prophets prior to Muhammad. He thus died (cf. Surah 3:55). The 'raising' in question (rafa'nahu, phrases also used in 19:57, 4:158 and 4:172) is exaltation of status which Muhammad Asad renders as "whom We exalted."

So what happened to Jesus? The Qur'an does not say. The question remains unanswered. All answers to the question come from outside the Qur'an and/or are interpretations of what the Qur'an says. But the Qur'an itself is essentially silent on the matter.

The Qur'an does not speak of a Docetic/Gnostic Jesus. It does not speak of another person dying on the cross for Jesus. It does not speak of Jesus being raised alive to heaven. No. The crucifixion did not happen. Period. Jesus, as all Prophets before him, spoke his message, was persecuted for it, and kept a gathering of disciples (i.e. muslims) true to his word who carried the message forth.

This is perfectly consistent with the Qur'anic ideal. Any paths to dialogue begin here.

This idea troubles Christians greatly. How can there be such little interest in the Jesus of the Christian faith? One verse lays aside the crux of the Christian faith? One verse? That's it? It's maddening to the Christian. So Christians read back into the verse the aberrant theologies floating around in regions of Persia/Arabia as an explanation of the verse, Muslims retort, developing elaborate stories influenced by and in response to these Chrisitans claims and the convoluted Islamic Jesus develops.

On the flip side, Muhammad begins to take on the characteristics attributed to Jesus. This shows not only the influence of Christianity on the traditions that would develop about Muhammad but also show the phenomenology of how a tradition about someone developes.

It can be argued, and often is, that a similar process occurred in the deification of Jesus though Christianity did not have the safeguards preventing this from occurring and thus the development of the Trinity in order to maintain monotheism. But that is another story.

Surah 4:157 (Part I)

So how do I reconcile the cross with this Surah from the Qur'an? In reality, it's not possible. The Qur'an categorically denies that Jesus died on the cross; thus there is no resurrection.

However, the curious thing about this is that resurrection, prior to Christianity, at the latest, and perhaps during the time in which Daniel was written (accepting the belief that at least part of Daniel was written during the Hasmonean period) at the earliest, there was no belief in the resurrection in Judaism. Perhaps it existed in other religious traditions in some form or other but that did not become manifest, and this differently, until around the time of, and explicitly after, Jesus.

So if in fact this was the message of all those who came before Muhammad, it makes me wonder how it is that the resurrection has always been taught yet is completely absent from the earliest layers of Judaism. And does this mean the Qur'an validates other religious traditions that had a similr belief, such as that of Zoroastrianism and even Buddhism with its belief in reincarnation (arguably, on this premise, a distorted version of the idea of resurrection)?

Anyhow, back to the question at hand. Christian polemicists see in verse 157 a historical account of the events at the cross. It is implying that, no matter how skewed from the main body of Christian belief (i.e. a 'Docetic' gnosticism), the Qur'an actually validates Christian belief, on some level.

This isn't to deny the influence of a 'gnostic' type of Christianity on the Qur'an's view of Jesus (there can be no doubting that whatever Christianity was present in the Hijaz region, Jesus giving life to the birds is found in the Qur'an and in the gnostic writings). But verse 157 is not giving a historical account of what happened.

And Muslim commentators have fallen prey to the same thing, thus their elaborate explanations as to what happened to Jesus. There are many views of what happened to him, the most commonly promoted one being that Judas was placed on the cross in his stead which thus makes Judas a type of hero, a martyr, willingly laying down his life for Jesus.

But this is false also. The influence of Christianity really shows in the commentaries. It is through the commentaries that the idea of Judas being substituted enters in. It is not inherent in the Qur'anic text itself. It is read into the verse and is almost impossible to extract a different meaning once this view is held.

But look at the context of the passage. Beginning in verse 153, it is the Jews about whom the Qur'an speaks. It is not addressed to the Jews (as the Qur'an is for the hearers of Muhammad) but is speaking about the Jews. This continues to verse 162. Verse 157 falls right in the middle of this. It is speaking of wrong views and actions of the Jews; it does not speak of Christian belief. In other words, it simply says they (i.e. the Jews) did not kill Jesus though they brag that they did so, killing him as they had killed other Messengers before. This is the claim the Qur'an refutes.

What "appeared to them" was the event that Jesus was crucified. The Qur'an is silent on what actually happened. When verse 158 says God raised Jesus to himself, this is not a physical raising. That idea is more absurd than the Christian claim as Jesus would physically be alive somewhere in space. This is not the new "glorified" body of which Christians speak but a flesh and bones, earthly Jesus physically residing somewhere in the universe.

And even if, as some claim, the raising was of his soul, that would mean his body died which begins to sound like the Christian claim that his body died on the cross and he was raised alive. It radiates the influence of Christian theology and thus the Muslim scholars' attempted response to these claims.

Surah 19:57 uses the same phrase in regards to Idris (believed to be Elijah). So if Jesus was raised bodily (or even soulically) to heaven, so too was Idris. This, of cousre, is not believed. So why is it believed this is what happened to Jesus? Christian influence.

And of course this opens the door to all the other traditions that are derived from this idea, from the second coming of Jesus (coincidence?), the Dajjal, Gog and Magog, and Jesus dying after a certain period of time when re comes again. That would mean he is 2,000 years old.

What happened on the cross?

I hear it said frequently that God died on the cross. Then I hear the next statement that God in Christ died on the cross. Or that Jesus' human nature died on the cross but his divine nature didn't. There are a million different variations on this theme.

But it hit me in church today that what happened on the cross was the door shut when Jesus died. That open door to heaven, that immediate access to God through Jesus closed when his heart stop beating. That was the darkness spoken of in the Gospel accounts. God was still in the world as there is nowhere He is not but what happened there on Calvary is that intimacy, that intensity, of God present in full through the fleshly being of Jesus was gone.

God was intimately present in Genesis. Over time, as the Biblical writings attest, God is more and more distant from His people. Yet the Second Temple period is not silent; the "400 years of silence" of which Christian tradition speaks is a myth. No, the literature of this period of time is immense. The Nag Hammadi caves attest to this. So they were looking, seeking, asking, writing amidst the continuous confusion their lands being swarmed with invaders, from the Babylonians to the Greeks to the Romans, a whirlwind in which the Jewish homeland was caught.

So he was sought in a Book, in the Word, both in the Hebrew writings and the Greek philosophy that had made such inroads. And here comes the Christian claim that God Himself was found not in a book, not in philosophy, but in a person. God, in fullness, dwelling in and through Christ. It was if you could look into Jesus and, seeing through him, see God.

This was what was closed when he died on the cross. The stories of him lived, books about him were written and the Holy Spirit is ever present within the hearts of believers making Jesus very real and very present in their lives. But these are growing pains, both of the individual who accepts this call, and that of the world as a whole made up of the individuals who accept the challenge to follow him and make him real in the world.

But on the cross that door was closed. To those who witnessed it they sensed that communion with God has been broken, that there was a rift in the universe.

And then there is the resurrection. Jesus, no longer entangled in the likeness of men, is free from the fetters of death. He is the resurrection; he is the new life; he is the firstborn from the dead; he is the Alpha and the Omega point of this new creation, restoring the original creation that men had lost.

He has opened us a new door into the heavenlies, having entered the Holy of Holies, his life, his sacrifice, his blood, the completion and perfection of all that the Law desired to do in men. There was nothing left for men to do; he had accomplished all that men could ever hope to achieve, all that men longed for in the deepest parts of their bowels. He is now priest, king, lord, all of those titles given to lesser men as "types" of what Jesus was to become.

So God did not die on the cross. Jesus died on the cross.

Ever have the feeling...

...that your purpose is eluding you?

I've studied comparative religions for many years. Even have a degree to prove it. It seemed, at the time, that was my calling, to go off to grad school, to get a degree, and become a professor. But I wasn't some young pup with no commitments. At the time (as now) I had a family, a house and bills, bills, bills. Not exactly easy to pick up and head off to grad school. Didn't happen. Not happening now.

And yet the studies continue.

So what is my purpose? As my wife's father, a wise country minister from Jamaica says, I'm backed up. If I don't let it out, I get backed up, to put it politely. Yet in my approach to teaching/discussing these things, I often hear the term "on the fence" used in a derogatory sense. Have I not committed to anything? Or is my lack of commitment my only commitment? I've heard this used as well, especially with the "lukewarm" tag applied to it.

Am I delusional to think that I have some "higher" calling? Or is my fate to sit here on a Saturday morning, listening to Boozoo Bajou, drinking my 60 cent Frappio beverage with its 288 milligrams of caffeine, writing a blog that might be read by someone out in the anonymous compuniverse? Is this what I am reduced to? Is this enough? What is it that I want?

Well, I am in between. I am a Christian, certainly, because of Jesus, not because of the Church's theology to which I cling loosely, the proverbial finger pointing at the moon, to use a Zen/Daoist metaphor. And yet I am fascinated by Islam. So I am this Chrislamist with Daoist leanings. I am a mutt. I can distinguish between the various layers of this belief but from the outside I must appear confused. Or insane. Sigh...

My truth?

Music. It is the embodiment of the human experience, encapsulating the movement of history and the voices that carry it.

Jesus. The perfect human being, both repository and mirror of the perfection of our humanity, us and yet not us.

Daoism. No finer philosophy to explain the human conundrum.

Islam. In the sense of submission to One God.

Love.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)

Of course we can argue that philo, the Greek word for 'friends', is better rendered as 'brother' and is thus used in the context of fellow believers which thus makes this command very particular. However, if we stretch the definition of 'brother' to be that of the human race, it validates the point. Love is to be completely selfless and, more accurately, to be actively desiring nothing but completeness, telios, for all fellow human beings.

"Owe no man any thing, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law.
Love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love [is] the fulfilling of the law." (Romans 13:8, 10)

"For all the law is fulfilled in one word, [even] in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." (Galatians 5:14)

"If ye fulfil the royal law according to the scripture, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, ye do well..." (James 2:8)

Interstitial

Jesus. Yes, that Jesus. God? Man? Both? What? Of all the subjects I can think of, none stirs up such passions as that one. Fists were thrown over it back when it was being formulated in the fourth century. Men were excommunicated and exiled over it. I'm sure men were killed because of it.

I have come to the conclusion that the only position we can really hold is this dramatic tension. Jesus is in such a position, based on the writings we have about him, that he sits in between. Mediator, yes. But the nature of the writings are such that we can't exactly pinpoint who he is. Just when we think we have him figured out, he shifts on us and appears to be something else. No matter where we are in our life, in our thoughts, in our hearts, we find that he is present. No matter how low or how high, he is there. So we can't nail him down, no pun intended. He is elusive, shifty, yet in the same breath very Real.

One Scripture seems to indicate he is God yet in the same breath another one says he is a man. The phrase thrown out by apologists that if he is "just" a man is bait for a preplanned retort. I don't know of anyone who think he is "just" a man, as if he were somehow ordinary, average, no different than of us as this would do little to explain how it is that his name has been passed on for 2,000 years. Even those who refuse calling him God do not believe his humanity somehow lessens his status.

So the Church formulates a God-man. While it can stimulate the intellect and lead to mental gymnastics bar none, in the end he sounds like Aquaman or Superman, Batman or Spiderman, quite comic bookish. The term gets thrown around as if we should hold our head up high over it.

The New Testament revelation, the Gospel, is that Jesus is the God-man?

I don't think so. I'm pretty sure that's not what is preached in the New Testament. I'm pretty sure this is not what the earliest Church Fathers preached. I'm pretty sure that the first Christians were not made because of this idea.

It can obviously be argued that this is a conclusion to be drawn but it is not the essence, the essential, of the faith. If it was there would be no new Christians until they believed this to be true. No, people are not asked this prior to accepting Christ. People are asked to recognize that they are sinful, separated, cut off from God and that through Christ's death, burial and resurrection, this connection can be reestablished as it was in the beginning, thus being born again, i.e. "from above."

Everything else stems from here.

I don't get it...

Could be because I just watched Jesus Camp and was a bit freaked out by it or it could be because I worked all night but I was at church this morning and everyone was really excited and the presence of God was thick in the atmosphere and I realized I don't get it. What was the fuss about? What is it that we get all worked up about?

When altar call came I went along because I didn't feel like being the only one sitting there. Poor motivation? Sure. Hasn't everyone done this? Why do we go to the altar week after week? The whole "if you..." question always posited before altar call backs you into a corner, as if by not going to the altar you are somehow not the answer in the "if" question.

Something was missing today. Maybe it was sleep.

Jesus Camp

I really wanted to hate this movie, to be so fired up by the lunacy of the fundies that I would have something scathing to say against them. That didn't happen. On one level, I know these people and the beliefs they cherish. On some level, the variety of Christian circles I run in harbors many who share similar views, their children home schooled, fans of Dubya, supporters of the war under the guise of freedom, the rallying cry to pray for the President on "the issues" facing our country. I can respect that and can respectfully disagree.

The pledge of allegiance in church? A pledge to a Christian flag? Creepy. The emergence of an army of Christian soliders seeking nothing short of a theocracy really is frightening.

Anyhow, they are certainly not shown in an unfavorable light and were obviously given full access to the lives of these individuals. This is what they believe and they believe their children need to be taught in the right way. We may disagree with them forcing creationism upon them but it is their right. We may view these children as being brainwashed. I mean, at eleven years old, how horrible is your life that you cry tears of such anguish and pain for your sins? Where did they learn this? Are they really convicted or is it fear mongering? No easy answers there.

But I came away truly feeling for these individuals and their beliefs, especially the founder of the Jesus Camp. She is a sweet woman who is passionate about what she believes, though it is clear she has her own issues. I sense in her a passion for her calling but couldn't help but feel that there is also a loneliness in her unaddressed. Or perhaps it was just the camera angles.

The thing that sinks, or confirms, the film is Ted Haggard. There is an irony in his inclusion here, I suppose, in his mocking tone while preaching about the same subject matter in which he found himself scandalized. It's hard not to look at him and think about that.

Overall it is a sympathetic portrayal. Not all Christians are like this and not all fundamentalists are like this. They may share some, or even most, of these beliefs, but this is only a small subset of a very dynamic culture so it is certain stereotypes will abound. But it is a thought provoking film, disturbing on some levels, quite moving on other levels.

But I know these people. I am in their midst and yet I am not one of them. I am not sold out, not so much on Jesus, as much as I am quite aware of what can only be described as a culture that operates under the banner of his name and seek to limit my association with it. I am, in fact, one of the ones that one of the young evangelists mocks and claims is "dead". Sigh...

Taste and see...

I'm trying to get my arms around these posts. There seems to be little coherence other than the fact they all revolve around me. Is this self-absorption, thinking that maybe these will be of interest, of relevance, to someone, maybe even me? I feel as if I am on the outside looking in, a casual observer of a life other than my own.

I enjoy tasting and seeing. What goals do I have other than to experience? Is it the rush, the buzz, the fix? Or am I really learning anything? If so, what? And what do I do with it? What good is all this experience if it remains locked up inside, feeding on itself like a cancer?

The Beach Body you've always wanted...

About eight weeks ago I gave in to my wife's addiction for infomercial exercise products (in her defense, she's a personal trainer) and we picked up a copy of P90X from BeachBody. I'm not one to promote products that don't work and I generally don't believe the hype of most exercise/diet related products.

Common sense should dictate what to do: eat right and move.

The thing that caught my attention was that the basis of this program was the pull up, the majority of the exercises rooted in the body's weight. I had no idea what to expect; it just looked intense (and pull ups look really cool).

So here it is:
- one hour a day three days a week doing strength training - chest, back, shoulders, arms and legs - with with an extra fifteen minutes afterwards doing a killer ab routine
- plyometrics (jump training) one day a week
- yoga one day a week and
- kenpo (a cardio kickboxing kind of thing) one day a week.

Three weeks of one set of strength training exercises, followed by a "rest" week of yoga, plyo and kenpo only, followed by three weeks of a different set of strength training exercises (a concept called "muscle confusion"), another "rest" week and four weeks, rotating the two varieties of strength training each week, followed by a final "rest" week for a total of 13 weeks or 90 days (thus P90X).

We are as of today just finishing week nine. I am in the best shape of my life. I have a history of weight training. Throughout most of my twenties I maintained a fairly vigorous weightlifting routine and was in good shape. But nothing like this. I can honestly say I've never felt so good. I can touch my toes for the first time in my life with ease, I can touch my heels to the ground during downward dog and the chronic pain I've had in my scapula for as long as I can remember has vanished.

A certain level of fitness is required to even consider beginning this routine. It's not for the weak or faint of heart. Without familiarity with intense physical exercise and the mental discipline required to remain intensely physical, it would be quite easy to give this up. An hour a day of intense physical exercise is both physically and mentally challenging.

My mental state has improved, my buried anger has surfaced and is being dealt with, partially through the release of the toxins anger harbors and I am physically fit. I don't care about so much about having a "beach body" (the title of the post is tongue in cheek) but the feeling, the knowing, that my health is in a good state of being is quite a rush. Rather than be absorbed in the body and its pitiful state or the glorification of it, my mind is freed up to focus on other things (though remaining focus is something I haven't mastered yet, distraction and self-abuse my general mode of being).

This is truly one thing I look forward to each day, especially the yoga, definitely a meditative experience. Turn down the lights, block out the noise and go deep, the meshing of the body and mind a near religious experience.

I am currently up to nine pull ups. I'm about to hit ten. Not too shabby considering several weeks ago I was lucky to get two.

Get it.

Bring it.

Be a plasma donor...

I confess. I donate plasma. Twice a week. I've been doing it for about a year and a half now. And I enjoy it. It's a chance to be still for an hour or so, put on some headphones, listen to tunes and read a good book, all for the $20 to $40 per visit. I clock my time in and out and generally average at least $15 per hour. I make more money hourly than I do at my regular job. And I'm certain they make a boatload of money off of my plasma. My wife and I jokingly say that I am going to "bend over and grab my ankles" (after all, this truly is blood for oil).

It's quite relaxing, the phelobotomists are all sweet and the atmosphere and conversations are truly stimulating. You've got regulars, often the same days and times as you, depending on how regular you are. Considering that I lived downtown for a few years and worked as an outreach worker with the homeless for a few years, I feel quite comfortable in this environment. On some level it was karmic, I willed it to be.

When I lived downtown, I lived in a loft apartment in the warehouse right next door to the donation center. The warehouse has since burned down. It was my favorite apartment I've lived in, free to roam, climb on the roof on those clear, bright nights with the full moon, roll up a J and chill. But I digress...

So I knew of it but knew nothing about it. When I began working with the homeless I became familiar with it. It held a fascination. Eventually, I was drawn in.

You don't see many professionals coming down (and it's always "down" isn't it?) to donate. I doubt many suburbanites even know what it is. College students and those on the lower rungs, for whatever reason, of the socioeconomic ladder make up the mainstays. It tends to be a rough crowd, though there is a high degree of respect, especially for those who come regularly, for those who work there.

The first time, however, is quite intimidating, most likely, in my case, due to the biases I held toward doing such a thing. I can't say it violated any religious principle (I am not a Jehovah's Witness, obviously) I held though I did question that. Am I selling my soul along with my plasma? I think it violated some other caste type structure I held in my brain, that I was somehow above it or that doing that was stooping beneath what I am capable of doing.

But there is this part of me that is curious (and needed the money) and one Saturday morning I decided to go for it. I've been doing it ever since.

Why do I write this today? Because I was almost PR'd, i.e. placed on permanent restriction. Forever. Each time you come in to donate you are asked a series of health related questions (which the employees rattle off from rote memorization and the donors respond in like fashion, 12 No's and 1 Yes) and a series of basic health measurements are taken, including blood pressure, pulse rate, temperature and, more importantly, the protein content and liquidity of the plasma.

My plasma is frequently on the low end of the spectrum as I don't eat red meat and chicken and fish are not cheap sources of good protein. Every four months, a draw is taken and sent out to a lab for testing. It must meet minimum levels in order for the donor to continue. If it fails to do so, you can no longer donate until a redraw is done and is approved by the testing lab. I failed once in the past, two times in a row. Fortunately, I passed, barely, on the third redraw. Had I failed a third time, I faced PR.

This time around I wasn't so fortunate. I failed three times. This, of course, got me questioning, and researching, and looking online and high and low for answers. My overall protein level was ok. It was my gamma level that was low. What is gamma? I had no clue. The only clues I was given were on a sheet at the donation site that mentioned drugs, alcohol or infection. The nurse who informed me of this put out the comment "you know what it is" to which I replied: "I have no idea. I haven't done drugs or had a drink of alcohol in over ten years." I was no longer one of "them" and she changed her demeanor and took me a bit more seriously.

I still don't have an answer but by going online and doing search engines I found low gamma levels in various rare, untreatable or terminal diseases such as renal failure, leukemia, and immunodeficincies of various kinds. So of course I got a bit nervous. It's always been low and my gamma globulin level has always been right on the border.

Years ago I would have been banned outright. But a new procedure had been instituted where I had the option of going to see a doctor and getting tested and having his signature on some photocopied form providing my records, his awareness of my donating and the cause of the low protein. So I went to the doctor.

Keep in mind, it has now been several months. My gas money is now coming right out of my paycheck and my bills are suffering. Actually, our food consumption is suffering. Which, of course, affects my protein content in a continuing spiral downward. It was an experience in honesty informing my doctor that I donate plasma for gas money. I got a rather bizarre sense of satisfaction out of saying it.

The tests came back normal and my protein was good. I have no health history to speak of so there was no clear reason for the low protein/low gamma. So back to the donation site I trapsed and had a very nice chat, for the second time, with one of the nurses. I asked her how many people have been PR'd for this reason and she answered "none." That's not the kind of unique I wished to be at that moment.

In the meantime, I had begun to exercise, a pull up bar in the basement my motivation (see my P90X post here) . Add more protein to the diet, including protein powder, a little exercise and on the fourth redraw I passed. The elation was nothing short of ecstasy.

To a large extent, donating has been a little hideaway from the world, my time, a place where everybody knows your name.

My car...

I have two tires that consistenly go flat. Both are full of fix-a-flat. It's held now for about three days with no additional air. Both have been patched once, and then repatched because the patch didn't hold. It's a 1991 Toyota Tercel. 13" tires. I thought these would be cheap to replace. They aren't. With big tires all the rage nowadays, 13" tires are harder to find and have to be special ordered. Fifty bucks a tire. Crap. Fix-a-flat and patches. Such is life.

It's currently at 210,000 miles. I bought it about a year ago for $900. So far I haven't put any money into repairs though it needs brakework, a new exhaust, I put a quart of oil or two into once every month or so, and something is fishy with the suspension/steering. No air, AM/FM radio only, no cruise, it's pretty functional.

At least it runs. I've never been one to really care about cars. My last car was a 1990 Honda Accord that I ran into the ground (the leaky gas tank and dead alternator was the last straw). It had well over 200,000 miles on it (the Honda Accord before that had 225,000 miles when I gave it to my brother-in-law). I remember asking a Chevy sales rep before buying my first Honda Accord in the late 90s if he could guarantee me that a Cavalier would go over 100,000 miles and he looked at me as if I asked him to explain quantum physics.

It lasted almost ten years but I probably averaged a car payment in repairs every month in repairs. No driver's side mirror for seven years, having lost that when I fell asleep at the wheel on the way to my wedding and bumped off the back wheel of a semi-truck. Literally. Left the treadmarks on my car for those seven years as proof. Passenger's side mirror was cracked.

The rear bumper was Maaco'd. Having been rear ended, the other person's insurance company would pay to replace the bumper but said the rust where the bumper was attached was a pre-existing condition and they wouldn't pay for that. If I hadn't been hit, my bumper wouldn't need attached. It didn't matter and I wasn't about to get a lawyer to fight them. So I took their $1,000, got Maaco to attach it for $500 and I walked away with $500 in cash. The bumper held. It's nice to not care sometimes.

When it rained, the car leaked. Literally. The roof and all the seals around the windows had been siliconed so that wasn't it. But a puddle would form behind the driver's seat. I ended up drilling a hole in the floor (and no, I didn't drill a hole in the gas line) to drain it. The interior driver's side door handle didn't work, the key would sometimes get stuck in the ignition, the right touch required to remove it. Toward the end I just left it in the ignition, never worrying, always hoping, my car would be stolen.

I scrapped it for $90 with my high school weightlifting equipment that had been rusting in my basement.

Was given a 1994 Dodge Spirit as a gift. Same damn thing. Ball joints. Bad struts. Bad fuel lines. I put a boatload of into it as well. Scrapped it for $150.

At least our 2004 Saturn VUE has held up for three years, with no money put into it, although this counting the miles on a lease is a real headache. The warranty has certainly come in handy. Needs brakes, though. And the CD players hasn't worked in months and is not covered under warranty. We were told it didn't play mp3 CDs but this isn't true as it now plays nothing. It's cut back on the lease miles though as I have no reason to drive it other than the occasional privilege of having air conditioning.

Hate cars. Need 'em. Hate 'em.

Why does TBN scare me?

I was fumbling through some YouTube videos of converts to Islam from Christianity and from Islam to Christianity. It seems to be this really big competition, as if it were a sport of some kind, with rules and schemes and game plans and tactics and scores being kept. Kinda odd. Fascinating, but odd.

So I found a feature heading about 16,000 Muslims converting to Christianity and I start watching and notice it is from TBN. The channel creeps me out for some reason. From its horribly tacky decor, to its overdressed visitors, to the obligatory big hair of the wives and the slicked back grey hair of the hosts, to the overenthusiastic, cliche ridden blather that passes as dialogue, the audience appearing as if they are staged actors from late night infomercials, the whole thing is truly creepy.

I spent several years in a church where people watched TBN and praised it. I understand its appeal. I know what draws viewers to it. But something is fundamentally wrong with it. And I can never quite pinpoint it. But I know when I watch it. It is its own universe with its own language and its own dress code. I think that's what it is. It seems otherworldly. And I'm not talking in the sense of a replica of heaven. I hope heaven isn't this tacky. Blah.

Sure they are sincere, sure they are enthused and they may be speaking words of truth. But is this what is what someone would have to do in order to convert to the Christianity of which they speak? How do we separate the truth of the Christian message when it is so grossly packaged? Of course, that is my opinion. I may obviously be considered gross to someone else. Which reinforces the point.

How is the Truth separated from the package in which it is delivered?

In terms of the videos of Christians converting to Islam, these can be just as freaky. I can't help but notice that all of the converts begin to take on the same look, a beard that just won't come in, a certain glazed look in the eye as the talk into the camera. I recently found one where they had something of an altar call as people came up to accept Islam. They appeared before an entire congregation of Muslims, all shouting "Allahu Akbar" as the new recruits stepped forward to accept Islam. It was truly bizarre, nothing like my experience in a mosque when I had considered taking Shahadah. It's supposed to be a deeply personal, private thing, not a public event. Could it be that even Islam, so subdued and intensely personal, is falling prey to the cult of entertainment?

There is some weird stuff out there in conversion country. If either one of these represent what is in store for the convert, no wonder there is a militant atheist movement afoot.

Muttness

I did a Google on the term "spiritual mutt" and found very few hits. However, one of the pages was selling t-shirts with the term "spiritual mutt" on it. They trumpeted that a spiritual mutt is one who believes all religions are equally valid as the way to Truth. I balk at that notion.

A "spiritual mutt" is a matter of pedigree. It is one's DNA, if you will, not in one's current outlook or belief system. It is what it is; it is not what we wish it to be. Perhaps the t-shirt above should be read "spiritual wayfarer" or "spiritual voyeur" or "spiritual fondue" but certainly not "spiritual mutt".

My outlook is not what makes me a mutt. My DNA, all that which has come before me to make me as I am today, is what makes me a mutt. In that regard, perhaps, most of us are spiritual mutts. But my "muttness" is not that I believe all religions are the same. That is a discredit to these religions and takes something away from them; there is an undertone of hubris in that statement. There may be a "perennial philosophy" that we can extract but this is not the same thing as saying they are all the same.

To truly understand what it is that a particular religion unfolds, one must commit to it. One must take that one path deep. Taking the surface aspects of whatever religion looks good is of no benefit. It is safe but not transformative. The self (i.e. the ego) is still the Judge of Truth which is the antithesis of all religions. The Truth is independent of us, no matter how much we partake in it.

Take, for example, the poet Rumi. Everyone loves Rumi. About half of the Islam section of Barnes & Noble contains various works by him. But he has been removed from his context. He would have considered himself a Muslim, honoring the Five Pillars, bound by the Shari'ah. Most people who enjoy Rumi would not go that far. So he has been extracted from his context, recontextualized in the light of some vague definition of love and sold to a gullible public. But to understand his notion of love it is vital to understand the context in which he lived and moved and breathed. His notion of love, while bearing similarity to that of, say, the Christian idea of love, would be quite different in essence and this is lost in the desublimation of his works.

This happens all the time. Quotes are taken out of context, tossed into a book of quotes from the various world religions seeking to show their similarities and his quotes are attributed to him as a "Muslim" thus giving the appearance that the religions are the same. It's a nice gesture and it is certainly an improvement of trashing one another's religious beliefs but it is misleading, at best, dangerous, at worst.

I would compare it to what happens to many people who move in to my hometown. People who consider moving here from out of the area are shown our glorious Mill Creek Park. It is one of the finest parks I've ever seen. Then they are taken to the historical parts of town with big mansions from the steel mill heyday, well kept and well preserved. A spin through downtown and the city looks pretty good.

Until they move here. And get to know the area. And learn about the crime, the poverty, the difficult employment picture, the political infighting and the corruption. Had they known what was at the core, a different choice may have been made. No matter how much they wish it to be something else, no matter how much they make the most of it, at its core it is not what they were shown. Had they never moved here in the first place and had only the knowledge of what they had seen, they would probably have a pretty good image of it. And they might compare it to other cities in a positive light. They might even say it reminds them of another city that they have toured.

Such is the nature of the statement that all religions are the same.

Though I share the above views on my hometown and all its ugly (and all towns have ugly because all towns are made up of real people), I have actually found this to be advantageous. When the downtown are was delapidated and all but abandoned during the 90s, I had the complete freedom to roam at leisure through the abandoned buildings of downtown, walking leisurely through the abandoned lots of the former steel mills. It became my refuge, my sanctuary. I could pretty much go where I please unimpeded. The only people I would meet were the small community of homeless people utilizing these areas. Some of my fondest memories are from this period. I could go downtown and disappear and walk for hours on the train tracks without being bothered, take meditative shelter in buildings without hassle, or sit by the river for hours in some of the finest natural preserves in the area without trace of human habitation.

I have roughly 1,000 or so photos from this period. It wasn't until there was a resurgence of sorts in the downtown, the cheesification of it by tossing up a convention center (the architecture of which looks remarkably similar to the empty steel mill just across the bridge, pure function, its only character the lack or imitation of character) and looking to make an entertainment district. We do like to be entertained. It's another word of distracted. Distracted from dealing with reality as it is.

So even in the bleakness there was something positive to be found. But I sought it out, by accident originally, then willfully after a while. Rather than avoid it, I faced it. And was transformed because of it.

Perhaps religions are like that. All religions have a dark side. Perhaps in working through the dark side we find the traces of what was good before it and can learn from it. Perhaps in the darkness we can find light. And we can only work through this apparent darkness by facing it head on, alone.

Music

Sunday night at work. Work? Yes, work. I monitor test equipment. Once an hour I walk around and record pertinent data. I have to monitor changes and keep an eye on tests that may fail. Otherwise, alarms take care of that.

In the meantime, I have several hours to use productively (or not). I listen to music no matter what I am doing. It's an opportunity to really listen to music and experiment with new music. I have a good pair of over-the-ear headphones for those intricate pieces of music that require attentive listening (the alarm is really loud, in case you are wondering). I have been using this type of headphones since the early 80s. It's interesting to see they are making a comeback. A few years back, a guy asked me where I got them as he had been looking high and low for a pair. Hang on to something long enough it will come back (or you can sell it on ebay).

A pair of ear buds does the trick otherwise. It is rare when anything I listen to requires attentive listening, although tonight I listened to Alan Lamb's Night Passage, a recording of abandoned telephone wires whipping around in the wind in the Australian outback. Music? It sets a mood, that is for certain. It's quite addicting and I find myself drawn to it repeatedly. It draws me in, quiets my restlessness and keeps me grounded in the present.

Chemical Brothers We Are The Night (advance copy...check the date of my post to its actual release date) has just begun. So far, so funky, quite different than Exit Planet Dust and Dig Your Own Hole, two albums that really changed my view of what music can do, with the extra heavy emphasis on BASS. I have a Bose system at home that can handle the bass so it is great to hear the walls of my house vibrate and to actually feel the bass.

I have been through Hernan Cattaneo's Sequential 2, Boozoo Bajou's Satta! and Porcupine Tree's Fear of a Blank Planet. My most recent discovery has been the alt-country of Jim White and Johnny Dowd, both featured in the documentary Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus, a tall tale about the religiosity of the Deep South.

I was raised on a heavy dose of Motown, outlaw country of the Willie and Waylon variety (Ol' Waylon was my very first LP; I still have the vinyl), a little Gordon Lightfoot (Gord's Gold is still one of my favorite LPs), the desert sounds of the Eagles/America variety and some classical music on Sunday mornings.

The first album I remember, aside from Ol' Waylon, was AC/DC's Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (told mom "Big Balls" was about ballroom dancing) and Van Halen's Diver Down. Somewhere in there is AC/DC's Back In Black and Kiss Alive II. The big hair "heavy metal" sounds were my childhood companion, dispelling my angst more by the volume of the music than what was being said. Motley Crue and Guns 'n' Roses were about as heavy as it got, though I got into Metallica when they had crossed over into the mainstream. Of course, there was the obligatory interest in classic rock, a la Led Zeppelin, a rite of passage if there ever was one.

Even then I went to concerts as diverse as Jimmy Buffett and The Monkees. Scattered in there was an interest in early rap, listening to it through an old clock radio in my bedroom late at night, Grandmaster Flash's "The Message" scaring the hell out of this suburban boy with talk of "junkies in the alley with baseball bat."

Somewhere in there, however, came my one true band that I followed, Pink Floyd. The Wall became my companion. When I was depressed, it cheered me up. It became my voice. I dissected that album inside out, going through a cassette and two copies on vinyl. It would be the first CD I bought. This was my life. Over time I worked through all of their albums from Dark Side of the Moon on, losing interest post-Roger Waters, though I did see them from the nosebleed seats of Cleveland Stadium in 1987. It was around this time that they no longer held relevance for me.

In college I went through a heavy Beatles stage. I also discovered the alternative music "scene" with the Violent Femmes, The Smiths and a host of other bands along those lines that were just hitting the radar screen. It was also my freshman year in college when Beastie Boys' first album hit. It was huge and was on constant rotation for an entire year.

I began gravitating toward "New Age" music (hate that name, sounds wimpy...come to think of it, most of it is). Though I had been exposed to Jean Michael Jarre in high school, it was a roommate who turned me on to Kitaro and the Windham Hill catalogue and they became mainstays. I was seeking sleeping, bliss out music. I was looking for escape. The alcohol wasn't working. I was looking for drugs.

This faded into deeper, moodier music the likes of early Melissa Etheridge, Toni Childs and Concrete Blonde (one of the most underrated bands ever), artists with meaningful lyrics that got at the roots of the rage I was feeling. I was getting deeper and deeper, abandoning the shallow and superficial music of my youth, looking for substance, looking for a place to land.

Over time bands such as Smashing Pumpkins, Morphine, Mazzy Star and early Nine Inch Nails crossed my path (with a dash of Grateful Dead sprinkled in). I was drawn to the moody atmosphere these bands created. There was some grunge and I ended up in Seattle for a year but about the only lasting effect of grunge was to make thrift stores and flannel shirts popular and pricier.

As the drug use became heavier I gravitated to trance inducing techno music, a phase that has lasted more than ten years, though I am gradually leaving this behind, finally. I think that music saved me from going off the anger cliff and at least provided some outlet, some sense of being able to leave it all behind.

But the drugs weren't working anymore and I found religion.

Nowadays I listen to most anything, as long as it is good. The music I listened to in my past is but a memory machine. When I hear it I am transported back but it has no relevance today. It's a snapshot of time.

Put all that together, shake it up and you have a musical mutt. I have almost 100 GBs of music (update: 10/09/15, over 2TB!), most of which I'll probably never get to. With nothing but an AM/FM radio in my car, very little opportunity at home to listen to music and the few hours on the weekend, most of this music is going to wait. Though I do drive with my ear buds in (looks like a cellphone headset anymore) it isn't the same.

Now that I'm thinking about it, perhaps interstitial is a better word, more functional. The view of what is happening is better from in between the cracks.