Thanks in the Moment

[Skip to the last two paragraphs for the condensed version]

If rising of the sun could be equated with turning a corner, then Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Not that you need to know that - I just like to point out the obvious. Anyway, it only makes sense that I'd be thinking about thankfulness. I mean, of course I've thought of it in the past, especially around this time of year. But, for some reason, it has been different this year. A few thoughts have passed through my mind, and I thought I'd share a few of the discussions I had with them.

One of my friends wrote in her blog the other say, and one thing stuck with me. It was the idea of being thankful for the details, to really appreciate something in its entirety. It's another kind of thankfulness to appreciate something for even the oddities that make it unique. I'd like to be thoroughly thankful for the blessings in my life (even the little ones).

It's a Wonderful Life is my favorite Christmas movie. It has many of the elements I admire in a movie, one of them being the question, "What if I had never been born?" Any question that begins with "what if...?" is a question I respect. But a small thing that I enjoy about the movie is at the end, when George realizes how much he loves all the things that drove him nuts. I like that. So, I'm learning to be thankful for inconveniences.

A week or so ago, I heard one of the professors from my school speak in chapel. Now, I didn't catch all of it, because his voice is like warm milk. It's not that it's smooth or soothing--it's quite raspy, actually--but it tends to make me drowsy. What I did catch was what he said about food, which is supposed to be a theme this year at Cornerstone. One thing he said, in particular, caught my attention. It was that, though food is lacking in other countries, we shouldn't feel guilty about eating our food. Rather, we should be thankful for all the food we eat. Don't take it for granted. I need to develop an appreciation for the food I eat.

What all this led me to think is this: We treat thankfulness like it's a reflection or a thought. It's a state of mind to adapt every once in a while, something to ponder before and after. But maybe that's not what it should be. Maybe thankfulness should be an experience, an act of the present. Thankfulness is during the meal, when turkey rolls in your mouth and pumpkin pie slides down your gullet. When the birds sing and the sun shines on your face. When your car doesn't start or your computer freezes. We experience these things, but we tend not to be thankful until after they've passed. Our minds are preoccupied with the experience itself.

But what I wonder is this: How much better would that turkey taste if I really appreciate it in the moment? What perspective would I gain if I was thankful for my car's stubbornness as it resisted me? How much more beautiful would the birds sound if I consciously was thankful for them as they sang their melodies? Life is a gift, and it's meant to be lived. How can I adopt a living thankfulness? It's a fuller life that way.

V & 1984: A Comparison of Evey Hammond and Winston Smith

(To be honest, I have only seen the movie of V for Vendetta; I haven't read the graphic novel. I have only read 1984; I haven't seen the movie. I'm disappointed about the former, but indifferent about the latter.)

There are a number of parallels between V for Vendetta and 1984. Both take place in a dystopian world (both in London, even). Both involve repressive/oppressive governments that monitor their citizens diligently, ferreting out any voice of resistance. Both governments control the media, and enforce their tyrannies with terror-inducing branches of themselves. And, most importantly, both involve an encounter with the horrifying that tests the value of truth. This is embodied in Evey Hammond and Winston Smith. In these two characters, the creator of each story reveals his opinion of the resilience of the human spirit and its thirst for truth. Like I said, there are many parallels between these stories, but it's the differences I find interesting.

The first difference I notice between the two is the intensity of each dystopian world. In V, the United States were in utter chaos and civil war, but that chaos was only just reaching London. In 1984, though, the world was in a state of constant war and living conditions were miserable.

The second difference between the two is the stage at which the government/society has taken control. In 1984, the government has developed to the point where it has eyes and ears nearly everywhere. In fact, its knowledge seems so intrusive that those that seek to keep any resistance in check have been dubbed "the thought police."And it is part of only three societies on earth. In V, it is just England that has dominated the lives of the characters, and "the Finger," while still intimidating, hasn't reached that almost omniscient status.

The final difference is a difference of emphasis in each story which deals with the resilience of human determination.This is typified by Evey Hammond and Winston Smith and their respective torture experiences. Winston, when tortured beyond extreme anguish, turned from what he knew to be true, going even as far as to turn against the one person he held dear. For him, what he faced was worse than denial. Evey, on the other hand, reached a point where her knowledge of what was right and true outweighed any torture or death she might face. For her, denial was worse than death or anything else.

Sure, one could argue that the first two differences were factors that added to her resolution. Or it could be said that her torture was not as severe. But I think it doesn't matter - to one author, all humans will give up on the truth when pressed. To the other, there are many who will hold onto it. In 1984, there is no hope of revolution. In V for Vendetta, the people rise against tyranny. So which is it? Is there hope for the will of humanity, or will we give in when faced with our own demise? How much does the truth really matter?

One reason this has occupied my thoughts is that, when I read that book or watch that movie, I get a gut feeling that I'll be in the same situation one day. To remain resolute or give in. And I wonder... does it matter?

Getting Started

That's the hardest part. But I did. We'll see what happens from here.

Whaddya Want?

I long for a simpler time, when I knew what I wanted and how I felt. When my plans and ambitions were solid, concrete. When what I felt was strong and stable. When options didn't exist beyond two or three. When the future was one road, not thousands. When I got excited, had crushes, felt sad, got angry. When bitterness wasn't something to hold onto for emotions' sake. When specialization was only a word to spell. When all scientists did the same thing. When everything was obvious. When this was right and that was not.

Things are complex now. I can't even figure out what it is I aspire to be. Or whether I want to be with someone, much less who that is. The people in the game of LIFE have it easy - the spin of the wheel determines everything. It's tough when you get to pick the card. "What do you want?" they say. But I don't have an answer. And I refuse to let the major decisions of my life be things that you just do - there's got to be something deeper. If love is just a choice, I want no part in it. I want a vocation that I'm made for, not one I settle into. Where's fate to tell me what to do?

I play my music on shuffle. I use Pandora. Which is closest? What haven't I tried? What makes sense?

I need passion. I need to know what I want.

Hugs (are not as good as Kisses. Quite frankly, they suck. Because--let's face it--white chocolate is nasty with a capital N)

It didn't hit me until later the next day, but the other night I had a dream in which I got a giant bear hug form Ryan Davis. Ryan passed away, as you probably know, but I always looked up to him, even though I barely knew him. Anyway, the hug was one of those one-sided hugs that you rarely get anymore; it was completely overpowering. He picked me up, and I was helpless to do anything but hold on as he swung me back and forth.

That's the type of hug a kid gets, when you're embraced by someone so much bigger than you - you are really only receiving the hug. You get overwhelmed. In that moment, you know that person could take care of all your problems (and maybe even the problems of the entire world). And why would you think differently? You're just a child.

It seems like hugs like that don't happen anymore. They're always mutual and maintain a sense of independence. "I choose to display my affection and friendship to you, but I can handle my own problems, thank you very much."

I think there's something inside me that wants the former hug once in a while. To drop the whole independence shtick and completely depend on someone else. Someone I know will handle everything with my best interest in mind.

I guess I want my relationship with God to be like that. At least, that's what it should be like. I want a "Ryan Davis hug" faith. It's comforting and inspiring. And all I have to do is hold on,

Bittersweet (But Not Sweet At All)

I generally am not the type of person to hold a grudge. But when I feel someone has wronged me in a particular area of life, I pick up that habit easily. That wrong injects venom into my opinion of that person until I'm flowing with bitterness. But I'm not overt about it. Everything seems fine, but I make remarks in a way I wouldn't normally, usually by slighting the person in a rather snarky manner. My bitterness becomes an infection that eats me from the inside out.

The only thing that rids me of that bitterness is confrontation. In order to repair such a relationship, I have to express to the person exactly how their actions/words made me feel (not an easy task for me, since I don't really have much experience in that realm). Only then can the venom be removed, although the relationship is never quite the same again.

"Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold." Ephesians 4:25-27

I've watched the sun set too many times.

Defiant One

In Honors the other day, we discussed Montaigne and his opinion that the essay was the superior form of writing, when compared with the treatise. This led to dialogue about how research can often lead to a lack of original thought. Stevens mentioned that, even now, our idea of an essay is skewed. Rather than an exploration of the mind, it has become a gatherer of facts determined for others. Stevens proposed that we revive the essay, and I am in complete agreement.

For me, the essay represents something more than just a form of writing. It is one facet of original thought. Pondering, questioning, venturing--these things are no longer viewed in a positive light. In the essay, one speaks out of the gut. He materializes his thoughts, regardless of what others may think. In these days, group think suffocates originality and anything that threatens the status quo. And I believe that is an extreme injustice.

I watched Dead Poets Society last night, and that seemed to fit this theme. If you have seen the film, you understand what I mean. Robin Williams questions the conventionality of the time and place, particularly in the "marching scene." He illustrates that conformity often beckons us with a powerful and demanding voice. We follow others like mindless lemmings. Later in the movie, one character's inability to think in new ways leads to tragedy, and it leaves you thinking, "Why couldn't he just get over his way of thinking?"

This is why I appreciate Rob Bell, though I have yet to read his writing. From what I have heard, he uses questions to help people think in new ways. As Stevens said, Love Wins could be considered an essay. But what has been accepted as fact may or may not be correct.

When people shun the exploration of ideas, they chance eliminating a brilliant new truth. Galileo faced the same, as did many other conceptual pilgrims. The world is flat. The earth is center. The arts are inferior. These are the voices that have had commanding presence. But they erred and err.

I said recently that one word I could use to describe myself is opaque. Another would be defiant. Not in defiance of rules and structure that make things whole, but against those things which hold captive ideas, beliefs, and people that could otherwise have a healing touch on the world, if only ideologically. It's arrogant to assume that I know what is completely just and fair, but you have to act if something is wrong, right?

All I'm saying is that we need original and open-minded thought. Without it, we make no progress.