I saw the dust start to swirl around in circles. Then those swirls got larger and larger, until I knew for sure that it was a tornado. I sprinted toward the house, the growing tornado just twenty yards behind me. Just as I stepped onto the porch, its roof fell apart above my head, nearly landing on me as I fell to the ground. As I tried to push the roof out of the way, I turned to see the tornado bearing down on me. I realized that I couldn't get inside in time, so I curled up to fight the pain and embrace death....
I have many such dreams. Every once in a while, they involve tornadoes. But usually, they just involved being chased by people who intend to do me harm for reasons unjust and irrational. And usually, the general atmosphere is that I am hunted. In other words, I am pursued by a higher power or government. Regardless of the content, dreams such as these generally follow the same sort of themes: I am trying to escape something that intends to do me harm.
I think that these dreams indicate a predisposition I have. I long for adventure and excitement, but, more than that, I desire adversity and persecution. There's something deep inside me that longs to endure trials of any sort. Something about me wants to fight the storm.
And honestly, I think that's how I'll die. It might not actually be due to a storm or malicious pursuers, but I doubt it will be a natural death. I think I'll die fighting something - whether it's fires, crime, the powers of nature, or a power that wishes dead those who believe a certain way.
And I'm fine with that. I almost welcome it. Somehow, it seems like my purpose. In some ways, I'm living for the storm.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Donnie Darko
Do you ever get that feeling? It's when you're instantaneously inspired to do a million things at once. Your ideas swirl round your mind like a cyclone, and you feel like your only option is to turn on a faucet and watch them pour out like water. It's a feeling that comes out of a time of stagnation and apathy - you realize just how little you've let your mind work lately. As you've guessed by now, that happened to me.
If you've read any of my previous posts (and let's face it - this page doesn't exactly see much new traffic) you've noticed that both the title and background for the page has changed. I feel that, though it will be slightly tangential, I should explain why this is. The new title and background are mainly a tribute to my favorite novel, Fahrenheit 451. I recently reread this book, which was an inspiration to me back in high school, and it once again produced its mystifying effect. The book and the new title ask the question, "Are you a destroyer or a life-bringer, dormant or active? Do you see the world through an all-too-common lens, or do you wear different glasses?" It's a question I don't ask myself enough. But back to the main trail.
I watched Donnie Darko for the first time the other day, and I saw something in the movie that I recognized. Something about the admittedly odd movie (after all - Bunny costumes?) reminded me of Fahrenheit 451, though I'm not sure whether it was the content or something else. It found a very special place in my heart. But it wasn't just that feeling that made the experience interesting. It was what happened after the movie.
I just sat there. I sat there and I thought. I turned over in my mind just how everything in the movie worked. (It had to do with time travel.) In the end, whether the time travel elements made sense or not wasn't important to the point of the movie, and it wasn't important to my experience. After writing notes and drawing doodles, trying to make sense of it all, I realized something. It had been so long since I had thought about something that thoroughly. It's an effect college has on you if you're not careful. You become a zombie, eating all the brains you can find, never using your own. You analyze, you problem-solve, but it's for no other purpose than to pass a class. You become an information-eater. It's something I could rant about for a while (but who wants to hear a rant?). Analyzing that movie pulled me out of my lethargic state. And you know what? I liked it. It was a mission, a task, an endeavor.
"Endeavor" is a word that should initiate associations for anyone who has taken Cornerstone's creativity course. All at once, old ideas became new, pressing against the walls of my mind, threatening to burst out my ears. I thought of new ventures and projects. I remembered my "Idea Book" (otherwise known as a Capture Machine), something I hadn't opened in months. I began to think again. I didn't fall asleep for quite some time after the movie - there was too much thinking to be done, too many ideas to develop. But I did fall asleep.
Thankfully, my slumber was only a physical sleep. I still get ideas, I still process concepts. But I know I'm always in danger of passing into a creative coma. I won't let that happen. I began to read, to write, to think again, and it feels good. I guess I have Frank the Rabbit to thank for that.
If you've read any of my previous posts (and let's face it - this page doesn't exactly see much new traffic) you've noticed that both the title and background for the page has changed. I feel that, though it will be slightly tangential, I should explain why this is. The new title and background are mainly a tribute to my favorite novel, Fahrenheit 451. I recently reread this book, which was an inspiration to me back in high school, and it once again produced its mystifying effect. The book and the new title ask the question, "Are you a destroyer or a life-bringer, dormant or active? Do you see the world through an all-too-common lens, or do you wear different glasses?" It's a question I don't ask myself enough. But back to the main trail.
I watched Donnie Darko for the first time the other day, and I saw something in the movie that I recognized. Something about the admittedly odd movie (after all - Bunny costumes?) reminded me of Fahrenheit 451, though I'm not sure whether it was the content or something else. It found a very special place in my heart. But it wasn't just that feeling that made the experience interesting. It was what happened after the movie.
I just sat there. I sat there and I thought. I turned over in my mind just how everything in the movie worked. (It had to do with time travel.) In the end, whether the time travel elements made sense or not wasn't important to the point of the movie, and it wasn't important to my experience. After writing notes and drawing doodles, trying to make sense of it all, I realized something. It had been so long since I had thought about something that thoroughly. It's an effect college has on you if you're not careful. You become a zombie, eating all the brains you can find, never using your own. You analyze, you problem-solve, but it's for no other purpose than to pass a class. You become an information-eater. It's something I could rant about for a while (but who wants to hear a rant?). Analyzing that movie pulled me out of my lethargic state. And you know what? I liked it. It was a mission, a task, an endeavor.
"Endeavor" is a word that should initiate associations for anyone who has taken Cornerstone's creativity course. All at once, old ideas became new, pressing against the walls of my mind, threatening to burst out my ears. I thought of new ventures and projects. I remembered my "Idea Book" (otherwise known as a Capture Machine), something I hadn't opened in months. I began to think again. I didn't fall asleep for quite some time after the movie - there was too much thinking to be done, too many ideas to develop. But I did fall asleep.
Thankfully, my slumber was only a physical sleep. I still get ideas, I still process concepts. But I know I'm always in danger of passing into a creative coma. I won't let that happen. I began to read, to write, to think again, and it feels good. I guess I have Frank the Rabbit to thank for that.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
A Mindless Faith
I love books. I even like many Christian books. But I like books that make you think, not books that allow you to not think. I feel there are a lot of the latter floating around these days. In general, there seems to be a lack of thought in Christian circles.
I haven't read Love Wins yet. I don't view it as imperative - I don't really enjoy falling into the midst of pointlessly heated arguments - but i would still like to read it, because I like questions. It's a part of who I am. Hypothetical scenarios intrigue me; I sometimes take random scenarios much further than makes sense. (For instance: What if I didn't have knees?) So I appreciate any exercise of that way of thinking.
What bothers me isn't that people don't think like me - I'm fine with that. They don't need to love questions. But it's irritating to see outright resistance to any sort of statement that raises questions. And if any such questions are asked (even if in statement form), there's someone with the answer following the first. It's as if people are thrown into distress when they have to question what they assume, so they breathe a collective sigh of relief when somebody tells them "how it is." Christians would often rather have somebody else think for them.
When people look for a church, a commonly used rejection phrase is "I didn't really agree with their views." That's a legitimate concern. It is good to see eye-to-eye with your church, for the most part. However, "I didn't really agree with their views" too often becomes "I disagree with them on such-and-such a topic, and we don't have infinite like-mindedness." When this happens, searching for a church becomes looking for a crowd of mirrors. This person, that person, the pastor think what I think, say what I say, believe what I believe. I am not confronted with opposing ideological views. I bathe in the vanilla pudding that is me. I am safe.
Because of this pudding-loving nature that infects the mind of so many, true debate and discussion is corrupted. Debate becomes a sledgehammer, and discussion a mallet. People wield these blunt ideologies and opinions with no intention of examining their opponent's own weapon. Discussion should be exploration. It should be two or more people, daring to present their opinions without fear of or intent to attack. Instead, debate is raised voices and discussion is elevated heartbeats. The mind cares not about the reasons for believing; it cares only to believe unwaveringly.
Ray Bradbury saw the future. He saw a future where people don't care to think, don't care to analyze, don't care to feel in its truest sense. In some ways, society has progressed toward making him a prophet. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want the mind to disappear, especially for Christians. We have not been called to a mindless faith.
I haven't read Love Wins yet. I don't view it as imperative - I don't really enjoy falling into the midst of pointlessly heated arguments - but i would still like to read it, because I like questions. It's a part of who I am. Hypothetical scenarios intrigue me; I sometimes take random scenarios much further than makes sense. (For instance: What if I didn't have knees?) So I appreciate any exercise of that way of thinking.
What bothers me isn't that people don't think like me - I'm fine with that. They don't need to love questions. But it's irritating to see outright resistance to any sort of statement that raises questions. And if any such questions are asked (even if in statement form), there's someone with the answer following the first. It's as if people are thrown into distress when they have to question what they assume, so they breathe a collective sigh of relief when somebody tells them "how it is." Christians would often rather have somebody else think for them.
When people look for a church, a commonly used rejection phrase is "I didn't really agree with their views." That's a legitimate concern. It is good to see eye-to-eye with your church, for the most part. However, "I didn't really agree with their views" too often becomes "I disagree with them on such-and-such a topic, and we don't have infinite like-mindedness." When this happens, searching for a church becomes looking for a crowd of mirrors. This person, that person, the pastor think what I think, say what I say, believe what I believe. I am not confronted with opposing ideological views. I bathe in the vanilla pudding that is me. I am safe.
Because of this pudding-loving nature that infects the mind of so many, true debate and discussion is corrupted. Debate becomes a sledgehammer, and discussion a mallet. People wield these blunt ideologies and opinions with no intention of examining their opponent's own weapon. Discussion should be exploration. It should be two or more people, daring to present their opinions without fear of or intent to attack. Instead, debate is raised voices and discussion is elevated heartbeats. The mind cares not about the reasons for believing; it cares only to believe unwaveringly.
Ray Bradbury saw the future. He saw a future where people don't care to think, don't care to analyze, don't care to feel in its truest sense. In some ways, society has progressed toward making him a prophet. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want the mind to disappear, especially for Christians. We have not been called to a mindless faith.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)