Canticles of the Unhomed
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Thoughts on Evolution
I know - two posts in as many days - inconceivable. (No, I'm sure the word means what I think it does.)
So I posted about Christmas a few days ago, and having received some interesting comments, I feel I must respond.
First, here is the anonymous comment in full:
"as a family member that loves any time that a busy family can take the time to be together i really take offense by what you said i really beleive it is what you make of it.too bad all the xmases that we did give you the love,the thought of making you happy and all that bullshit was for not. i am really glad dad is not around to read this bullshit.as it is i am so deeply hurt i dont know how to feel"
Many of you who know me know of my less than stellar relationship with my family. There was a big blow up a few years back, I left, and I really haven't looked back since. There was a lot of anger to deal with. I went through a number of ugly anger cycles until I was able to get my head around it. Eventually, I ended up in counseling - a number of counselors in fact, something, until now, that was not common knowledge. Some of them were better than others - the best was a priest reccommended to me by my friend Jacquie. Again, my regular consultation with these counselors was something that I kept fairly quiet. I realized that this family thing was something that I could not deal with by myself; there was too many years of too much pain. Eventually I was able, with one counselor's help in particular, to learn that I was responsible for my own evolution. I had the power to choose to surround myself with people, circumstances and relationships that contributed positively to the kind of person that I wanted to be. I didn't have to live with what I was taught. I could have healthy relationships, I could have good communication skills, I could deal with my anger properly, I could talk to and about myself properly. But I had to choose, and I had to be ruthless. I lived in a world that was hostile to me, a world that would not hesitate to destroy me if I let it. I had to choose how I would live. During this process I learned many things about myself. I learned about how I communicate, how I emote/feel/process emotions. It was here that my ideas/thoughts/feelings/wishes/dreams of community was born, and my desperate hatred of broken relationship.
I learned that I could not give my family access to me. I had to be ruthless. There were some exceptions to that, but largely, I had to remove myself from that. I fully realize that my family probably did the very best they could; I don't begrudge them that. Looking back on my history with my family, I saw patterns and cycles that played themselves out again and again that I just could not be part of. Of course I saw honest people just trying their best to make do, but I couldn't risk myself buying into those patterns and cycles.
Mostly I just realized that I could not fit in. I knew from the beginning, and everyone reminded me of it constantly, that I was different. I was adopted, and the youngest. Of course I didn't fit. I know that I still don't, and never will. I remember well angry, older siblings yelling that at me. Remember, I have learned to be ruthless. I must be. There was a time when talking about this made me angry. There is no anger anymore. Some sadness, some regret. But I was taught to be ruthless, determined and dogged. The fact is that I have so little in common with my family that I am sure that they don't even know who I am anymore. They are certainly strangers to me.
To the anonymous family member who commented: I am really, truly glad that you enjoy family Christmases. You are right when you say that they are what you make it. I don't want to offend you, or belittle your feelings, memories or your beliefs. I am glad that you felt those things; that you wanted the best for me, or that you loved me. Those are the best things about family. I do not for a moment believe that it was all bad. Not by a long shot. But please understand that it cannot undo so many years of hurt and negative reinforcement. Its not about forgiveness - that was done years ago - its about consequence. This is the cost of those years. There is no way to say this without it sounding like judgement, so I won't even try. I need to take care of myself. I will not - cannot - risk the goals I have for myself.
I am nowhere near perfect. I am still stunted, emotionally constipated, and generally fucked up. I am like an alcoholic walking by a string of bars. I know myself; I know what I can risk and what I cannot. I know where I can walk and where I cannot. I have to be ruthless. You can call me unforgiving, uncompassionate, unChrist-like, hateful, selfish, retributionary, an asshole, whatever. The truth is that I am done being hurt by this. The only person who can hurt you are those that you give permission to, and that permission was revoked long ago.
But I am sorry that I have hurt you, hence the sadness and regret. It is not right. Perhaps you even have an intention to reconcile and restore. That is so right, noble and godly that it makes my heart hurt. And its not right that I cannot go there. The truth is, there is nothing right in this whole mess. Someone once told me that after a messy relationship there some you can have dinner with, and some you can't. As much as I hate it, as much as I want to be one of those people that you can have dinner with - the person is right.
Some would say that this is the very worst context to have this experience, and they're probably right. This is the only context that I can open. I don't know what the right answer is - I don't think there is one.
So I posted about Christmas a few days ago, and having received some interesting comments, I feel I must respond.
First, here is the anonymous comment in full:
"as a family member that loves any time that a busy family can take the time to be together i really take offense by what you said i really beleive it is what you make of it.too bad all the xmases that we did give you the love,the thought of making you happy and all that bullshit was for not. i am really glad dad is not around to read this bullshit.as it is i am so deeply hurt i dont know how to feel"
Many of you who know me know of my less than stellar relationship with my family. There was a big blow up a few years back, I left, and I really haven't looked back since. There was a lot of anger to deal with. I went through a number of ugly anger cycles until I was able to get my head around it. Eventually, I ended up in counseling - a number of counselors in fact, something, until now, that was not common knowledge. Some of them were better than others - the best was a priest reccommended to me by my friend Jacquie. Again, my regular consultation with these counselors was something that I kept fairly quiet. I realized that this family thing was something that I could not deal with by myself; there was too many years of too much pain. Eventually I was able, with one counselor's help in particular, to learn that I was responsible for my own evolution. I had the power to choose to surround myself with people, circumstances and relationships that contributed positively to the kind of person that I wanted to be. I didn't have to live with what I was taught. I could have healthy relationships, I could have good communication skills, I could deal with my anger properly, I could talk to and about myself properly. But I had to choose, and I had to be ruthless. I lived in a world that was hostile to me, a world that would not hesitate to destroy me if I let it. I had to choose how I would live. During this process I learned many things about myself. I learned about how I communicate, how I emote/feel/process emotions. It was here that my ideas/thoughts/feelings/wishes/dreams of community was born, and my desperate hatred of broken relationship.
I learned that I could not give my family access to me. I had to be ruthless. There were some exceptions to that, but largely, I had to remove myself from that. I fully realize that my family probably did the very best they could; I don't begrudge them that. Looking back on my history with my family, I saw patterns and cycles that played themselves out again and again that I just could not be part of. Of course I saw honest people just trying their best to make do, but I couldn't risk myself buying into those patterns and cycles.
Mostly I just realized that I could not fit in. I knew from the beginning, and everyone reminded me of it constantly, that I was different. I was adopted, and the youngest. Of course I didn't fit. I know that I still don't, and never will. I remember well angry, older siblings yelling that at me. Remember, I have learned to be ruthless. I must be. There was a time when talking about this made me angry. There is no anger anymore. Some sadness, some regret. But I was taught to be ruthless, determined and dogged. The fact is that I have so little in common with my family that I am sure that they don't even know who I am anymore. They are certainly strangers to me.
To the anonymous family member who commented: I am really, truly glad that you enjoy family Christmases. You are right when you say that they are what you make it. I don't want to offend you, or belittle your feelings, memories or your beliefs. I am glad that you felt those things; that you wanted the best for me, or that you loved me. Those are the best things about family. I do not for a moment believe that it was all bad. Not by a long shot. But please understand that it cannot undo so many years of hurt and negative reinforcement. Its not about forgiveness - that was done years ago - its about consequence. This is the cost of those years. There is no way to say this without it sounding like judgement, so I won't even try. I need to take care of myself. I will not - cannot - risk the goals I have for myself.
I am nowhere near perfect. I am still stunted, emotionally constipated, and generally fucked up. I am like an alcoholic walking by a string of bars. I know myself; I know what I can risk and what I cannot. I know where I can walk and where I cannot. I have to be ruthless. You can call me unforgiving, uncompassionate, unChrist-like, hateful, selfish, retributionary, an asshole, whatever. The truth is that I am done being hurt by this. The only person who can hurt you are those that you give permission to, and that permission was revoked long ago.
But I am sorry that I have hurt you, hence the sadness and regret. It is not right. Perhaps you even have an intention to reconcile and restore. That is so right, noble and godly that it makes my heart hurt. And its not right that I cannot go there. The truth is, there is nothing right in this whole mess. Someone once told me that after a messy relationship there some you can have dinner with, and some you can't. As much as I hate it, as much as I want to be one of those people that you can have dinner with - the person is right.
Some would say that this is the very worst context to have this experience, and they're probably right. This is the only context that I can open. I don't know what the right answer is - I don't think there is one.
Friday, December 30, 2005
My Talisman
A talisman is, by definition, an object marked with magic or arcane signs and is believed to confer on its bearer supernatural powers or protection. Or, more generally, something that apparently has magic power.
While I was researching my grad thesis I ran into them all the time. They could be literally anything, but usually was either a relic of a dead person that was thought to have great power, or a small piece of stone or wood carved in the likeness of some diety or patron. It was thought that by carrying or "invoking" the talisman you could share in the power of the person or diety to which the talisman referred. For example, a priest of certain animistic religions would often carry the dessicated finger bone - usually the right ring finger - of their dead master. It was believed that the power of the dead wizard would be transferred, at will, into the living apprentice. This is of course, related to habits of cannibalism and head-hunting in several primitive cultures. The way it was explained to me was that the power is deep in the earth, like a resevoir, and that the user of the magic, ie the wizard/priest/etc is like a wick in a lantern. For the magic to work, the user had to provide a "spark" that would release the power of the magic. The purpose of the talisman would be to provide that spark and to add the dead person - or god's - power of control to the release of the magic. You would often prefer the talisman of your dead master over to the totem of your god, since your master's energy is already more keyed to your own, and gods have a reputation for being notorious capricious. In short, the talisman was an extremely powerful item, if you knew how to use it, and if it was procured in the correct way. If it was a relic of the person, preferrably the best way to collect it was in the final moments of life, and preferrably after YOU kill your master. Also, the more the relic was essential to life, or symbolized the connection of the person to the magic, the more powerful it was, and the more powerful you had to be to use it correctly. The most powerful relics were the heart and penis, though the finger bone was considered an appropriate compromise.
The point of it all was that in using the talisman, for all intents and purposes, you became that person. Ostensibly they were already very powerful and accomplished, and the more you could appear to be that person the better, when you had to trick your god into interceding for you.
I offer all that as prologue. Consider the emergent church's use of Brian McLaren as a talisman. I recently read an article written by him that addresses this issue. Check out the pdf here. He talks about not really knowing the person that people talk about when they use his name/books/etc to support their ideas.
Now, I really like McLaren. In my experience he has been an excellent bridge between emergent practioners and theoreticians. As well, I really resonate with his missional focus.
However, I must admit to using his name like a talisman. Anytime that I needed to add a little weight or authority to my ideas, I would whip out Generous Orthodoxy, or whatever equivalent text and say that the legendary McLaren agrees with me. The name "McLaren," previously only referred to stupidly fast and expensive cars in my brain. Now it has taken on a mythic quality, almost to the point that you could add "the" to the beginning. "THE McLaren." Sounds like a totem to me.
To my eyes, this amounts to history's use of Calvin, Luther, Wesley, AB Simpson, and so on. Those men became symbols for movements that were largely outside their control. Now, we have a different pantheon. Now, there is McLaren, Newbiggin, Sweet, etc. I can see why some are considering the emergent movement in the context of a denomination. We are following the pattern fairly closely.
It was my understanding, and granted I am no emergent guru, that we have no set rules, no strictures, no forms. I thought that the emergent conversation was concerned with the incarnation of mission, the integration of faith and lifestyle and the desire to live in harmony with God in a reality that is hostile toward God. I thought that we were not so much interested in adopting new "presbyters" like McLaren/Sweet/etc, but rather in seeing Christ. Allowing them to inform our conversation, not guide it.
Of course I could be wrong. I have avoided much of the reading and minutia of the emergent movement, for exactly that reason. I have become familar with some of the basics, but largely I want my own personality, my own thoughts to guide me, instead of becoming another Paggitt rip off.
But i could be wrong; I often am.
While I was researching my grad thesis I ran into them all the time. They could be literally anything, but usually was either a relic of a dead person that was thought to have great power, or a small piece of stone or wood carved in the likeness of some diety or patron. It was thought that by carrying or "invoking" the talisman you could share in the power of the person or diety to which the talisman referred. For example, a priest of certain animistic religions would often carry the dessicated finger bone - usually the right ring finger - of their dead master. It was believed that the power of the dead wizard would be transferred, at will, into the living apprentice. This is of course, related to habits of cannibalism and head-hunting in several primitive cultures. The way it was explained to me was that the power is deep in the earth, like a resevoir, and that the user of the magic, ie the wizard/priest/etc is like a wick in a lantern. For the magic to work, the user had to provide a "spark" that would release the power of the magic. The purpose of the talisman would be to provide that spark and to add the dead person - or god's - power of control to the release of the magic. You would often prefer the talisman of your dead master over to the totem of your god, since your master's energy is already more keyed to your own, and gods have a reputation for being notorious capricious. In short, the talisman was an extremely powerful item, if you knew how to use it, and if it was procured in the correct way. If it was a relic of the person, preferrably the best way to collect it was in the final moments of life, and preferrably after YOU kill your master. Also, the more the relic was essential to life, or symbolized the connection of the person to the magic, the more powerful it was, and the more powerful you had to be to use it correctly. The most powerful relics were the heart and penis, though the finger bone was considered an appropriate compromise.
The point of it all was that in using the talisman, for all intents and purposes, you became that person. Ostensibly they were already very powerful and accomplished, and the more you could appear to be that person the better, when you had to trick your god into interceding for you.
I offer all that as prologue. Consider the emergent church's use of Brian McLaren as a talisman. I recently read an article written by him that addresses this issue. Check out the pdf here. He talks about not really knowing the person that people talk about when they use his name/books/etc to support their ideas.
Now, I really like McLaren. In my experience he has been an excellent bridge between emergent practioners and theoreticians. As well, I really resonate with his missional focus.
However, I must admit to using his name like a talisman. Anytime that I needed to add a little weight or authority to my ideas, I would whip out Generous Orthodoxy, or whatever equivalent text and say that the legendary McLaren agrees with me. The name "McLaren," previously only referred to stupidly fast and expensive cars in my brain. Now it has taken on a mythic quality, almost to the point that you could add "the" to the beginning. "THE McLaren." Sounds like a totem to me.
To my eyes, this amounts to history's use of Calvin, Luther, Wesley, AB Simpson, and so on. Those men became symbols for movements that were largely outside their control. Now, we have a different pantheon. Now, there is McLaren, Newbiggin, Sweet, etc. I can see why some are considering the emergent movement in the context of a denomination. We are following the pattern fairly closely.
It was my understanding, and granted I am no emergent guru, that we have no set rules, no strictures, no forms. I thought that the emergent conversation was concerned with the incarnation of mission, the integration of faith and lifestyle and the desire to live in harmony with God in a reality that is hostile toward God. I thought that we were not so much interested in adopting new "presbyters" like McLaren/Sweet/etc, but rather in seeing Christ. Allowing them to inform our conversation, not guide it.
Of course I could be wrong. I have avoided much of the reading and minutia of the emergent movement, for exactly that reason. I have become familar with some of the basics, but largely I want my own personality, my own thoughts to guide me, instead of becoming another Paggitt rip off.
But i could be wrong; I often am.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
The Porno Caper
Mack keeps telling me that I should come up with a better name for it, but "the porno caper" has just sort of stuck.
Here at the House, we are into doing things together. Eating, watching movies, jamming, cleaning, showering. Ha! Just kidding. We rarely clean.
So Mack has to go and buy a copy of the Ragamuffin Gospel, (an awesome book that everyone should read and study) so he had to go to that Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name, otherwise known as the local Christian bookstore; I would say which, but again, it is the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name. So in keeping with this together philosphy, I went with him. As well, as his pastor, I couldn't very well send a young guy like Mack into the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name alone. However, to get the copy of the book that he needed, we were forced to go to the store on the north side of town. This is where it gets good.
This particular store is RIGHT NEXT DOOR - same strip mall, doors are only twenty feet apart - to a porn shop. If I had a camera, the picture would be on this blog right now! It was great. One stop shopping, I guess. You stand in the parking lot (the SHARED parking lot) and on your left you have #^&*ings Christian Marketplace and on your right you have Adult Video Store. (or whatever its name was) The two stores share a wall! It was great.
So we were in the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name, and the abominations that we saw will chill my soul forever. Something tells me that my soul would have been less troubled in the porno shop. I saw the "spiritual biography" of George Bush. It was called "Man of Faith: The Spiritual Journey of George Bush." Oh yeah. Check it out here. Here's a quote from the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name's website about the book: "More than any other world leader in recent times, George W. Bush is a man of faith…a conservative Christian who has brought the power of prayer and the search for God’s will into the Oval Office..." OH. MY. GOD. I have no words. None.
So we were on our way out, and I just couldn't help myself. I said to the teller, "I coudln't help but notice your nieghbor," tilting my head in the direction of the porn shop. She went on to talk about glaring at people who go in, hoping to make them feel guilty, suggested that we should go outside and hand out tracts on the evil of pornography, talked about how they hoped to force them out of business, and so on. I suggested that it was an interesting commentary on society, to which she said that it was like "good and evil." The hostility was extreme, and frankly not surprising.
So Mack and I were about to drive away, and I looked at the porno shop, and said, "Mack, I'm going in. I just have to talk to this guy!" So, dutifully leaving Mack in the car, I ran INTO the porno shop.
Careful of where I direct my gaze, I walk up to the counter and introduce myself to the owner, who was working behind the counter. His name was Mark. I could tell right away that he was thrown off. Something tells me he doesn't have personal conversations with many of his customers. I ask him how he feels about working next to a christian bookstore. This was his response. I have tried to remember it exactly, but don't quote me. He said, "I have no problem with them whatsoever. They believe in what they're doing, and I applaud them for that. They seem like nice people, and I wish them all the success in the world." I was awestruck that this man, owner of a pornography store was representing Christ more to me than the judgemental employee at the christian bookstore. When I repeated the conversation that I had with the bookstore employee, Mark only laughed. He went on, "I try not to judge. I don't agree with or like some of the things that my customers buy, but that's their business." He especially liked the comment that the employee wanted to put Mark out of business. He said, "They can hate me if they want. I will still smile and say hello when we pass in the parking lot."
Don't get me wrong. Porn is hurtful, sinful and damaging to our society, our minds, and our spirits. It is growing danger. It objectifies men AND women, and builds, proliferates and promotes negative sexual attitudes. I have seen first hand the damage that porn does to families, marriages and lives.
I just found it interesting the difference in the attitudes. The one that you would expect to be loving was not, and the one that you would expect to be angry and hostile was not. As we talked, I told Mark that I was a pastor. He asked me about my church, and I hold him about the House, and he was interested, so I gave him my info. He then started to ask questions about Christianity, and morality, and we had a really awesome discussion. Something was begun there.
I don't know if I will ever see or hear from Mark. But at least he got to be exposed to a Christian that didn't automatically hate him.
It was a good caper.
Here at the House, we are into doing things together. Eating, watching movies, jamming, cleaning, showering. Ha! Just kidding. We rarely clean.
So Mack has to go and buy a copy of the Ragamuffin Gospel, (an awesome book that everyone should read and study) so he had to go to that Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name, otherwise known as the local Christian bookstore; I would say which, but again, it is the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name. So in keeping with this together philosphy, I went with him. As well, as his pastor, I couldn't very well send a young guy like Mack into the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name alone. However, to get the copy of the book that he needed, we were forced to go to the store on the north side of town. This is where it gets good.
This particular store is RIGHT NEXT DOOR - same strip mall, doors are only twenty feet apart - to a porn shop. If I had a camera, the picture would be on this blog right now! It was great. One stop shopping, I guess. You stand in the parking lot (the SHARED parking lot) and on your left you have #^&*ings Christian Marketplace and on your right you have Adult Video Store. (or whatever its name was) The two stores share a wall! It was great.
So we were in the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name, and the abominations that we saw will chill my soul forever. Something tells me that my soul would have been less troubled in the porno shop. I saw the "spiritual biography" of George Bush. It was called "Man of Faith: The Spiritual Journey of George Bush." Oh yeah. Check it out here. Here's a quote from the Dark Abyss of Such Unspeakable Evil that We Dare Not Speak Its Name's website about the book: "More than any other world leader in recent times, George W. Bush is a man of faith…a conservative Christian who has brought the power of prayer and the search for God’s will into the Oval Office..." OH. MY. GOD. I have no words. None.
So we were on our way out, and I just couldn't help myself. I said to the teller, "I coudln't help but notice your nieghbor," tilting my head in the direction of the porn shop. She went on to talk about glaring at people who go in, hoping to make them feel guilty, suggested that we should go outside and hand out tracts on the evil of pornography, talked about how they hoped to force them out of business, and so on. I suggested that it was an interesting commentary on society, to which she said that it was like "good and evil." The hostility was extreme, and frankly not surprising.
So Mack and I were about to drive away, and I looked at the porno shop, and said, "Mack, I'm going in. I just have to talk to this guy!" So, dutifully leaving Mack in the car, I ran INTO the porno shop.
Careful of where I direct my gaze, I walk up to the counter and introduce myself to the owner, who was working behind the counter. His name was Mark. I could tell right away that he was thrown off. Something tells me he doesn't have personal conversations with many of his customers. I ask him how he feels about working next to a christian bookstore. This was his response. I have tried to remember it exactly, but don't quote me. He said, "I have no problem with them whatsoever. They believe in what they're doing, and I applaud them for that. They seem like nice people, and I wish them all the success in the world." I was awestruck that this man, owner of a pornography store was representing Christ more to me than the judgemental employee at the christian bookstore. When I repeated the conversation that I had with the bookstore employee, Mark only laughed. He went on, "I try not to judge. I don't agree with or like some of the things that my customers buy, but that's their business." He especially liked the comment that the employee wanted to put Mark out of business. He said, "They can hate me if they want. I will still smile and say hello when we pass in the parking lot."
Don't get me wrong. Porn is hurtful, sinful and damaging to our society, our minds, and our spirits. It is growing danger. It objectifies men AND women, and builds, proliferates and promotes negative sexual attitudes. I have seen first hand the damage that porn does to families, marriages and lives.
I just found it interesting the difference in the attitudes. The one that you would expect to be loving was not, and the one that you would expect to be angry and hostile was not. As we talked, I told Mark that I was a pastor. He asked me about my church, and I hold him about the House, and he was interested, so I gave him my info. He then started to ask questions about Christianity, and morality, and we had a really awesome discussion. Something was begun there.
I don't know if I will ever see or hear from Mark. But at least he got to be exposed to a Christian that didn't automatically hate him.
It was a good caper.
Friday, December 23, 2005
That Time
Well, its THAT time of year again.
You know what I'm talking about. Yeah, THAT that time of year.
Everyone knows my feelings about that time. I will not bore you with restatement. But, it is time for my annual Christmas blog post, and so here we go.
I notice that I have beat Jayson to the punch. Check out my rant from last year, here.
You can check out his - kind of - here.
So I am coming to this Christmas and thinking, what's it going to be this year?
Last Christmas I was fortunate enough to spend the Christmas season with Adam and his completely normal and well adjusted family. :) That was fun, and I made some new friends.
This Christmas I will be spending Christmas alone. I have no family entanglements, and everyone at the House will be busy with family. I am hoping to just keep my head down and weather the storm.
I wonder what will happen to our culture as more and more people lose their ability to tolerate the forms of this holiday. I am finding more and more people, who like myself, have given up on the holiday and are searching for more authentic and less painful ways to spend the season.
When I think about it, I am forced to admit that I have no positive memories of Christmas for the last ten years. During college, I would return home to find a family dissolving around me, not willing to admit it to themselves or anyone else and in the meantime force themselves to have this empty, shiny happy Christmas. After college and grad school, I was working in a church, and got exposed to the church busyness cult. That pretty much sucked all the remaining joy out of Christmas.
So, here we are at Christmas again. I feel it is necessary for me to not ruin the season for others. As hard as it is to believe, there are people out there who actually enjoy Christmas. They have positive memories, of family dinners, laughter, egg nog and carols. These are the people that look forward to Christmas all year, who can't wait to decorate the tree, and the house, and plan Christmas parties, and start their Christmas baking, do their Christmas shopping and so on. Personally, it makes the bile rise in my throat, but if they enjoy it, and it makes them happy, I don't want to ruin that. Contrary to popular belief, I am trying very hard not to ruin Christmas for others. But it is hard. When you see no redeeming qualities at all in the season, it is hard for a bastard like me to not point that out to others.
I know one person who doesn't really like Christmas, but instead throws herself into charity work for the season, and that does it for her. Admirable. In fact, I tried that this year - it helped - a little. The idea that i was making Christmas a little better for others actually made Christmas easier to handle.
I think the next couple of weeks is going to be the hardest. This is when the Christmas stuff kicks into high gear, and I am innundated with joyeux noel-isms. I can see depression setting up camp on my doorstep. There is a reason why the suicide rate spikes at this time of year. As Christmas becomes harder and harder to ignore, I will be forced to rely more and more on my own dubious mental health and discipline. But God is here.
I was hanging out with some new friends the other day, and I was talking about my dislike of Christmas. At one point I said that I hate everything that has to do with Christmas. One person said, "What about Jesus?" To which I was able to reply, very wittily I might add, "Its a good thing that Jesus has nothing to do with Christmas." Ha! I laugh at my own jokes and ignore how incredibly lame that is. :)
If you want to know my philosophical and theological reasons for disliking Christmas, check out last year's post. Mostly, though, more than the theological, philosophical and historical reasons, its the emotional reasons that drive me and end up sticking the hardest. Over the past couple of years I have been trying to shave off everything from my life that does not contribute positively to my evolution. When you have nothing but bad memories of Christmas, and there is just no joy left in it for you, I say GET RID OF IT. When did Christ ever say that we should celebrate his birth, anyway?
I know what you are thinking. Why not make new, happy memories for Christmas? Take back what was taken from me, and reclaim Christmas for myself and my own happiness. After all, I am responsible for my own happiness. Well, you're right. However, I treat my life like a trauma victim. Kind of an alarming analogy, but apt nonetheless. My life is like a trauma victim with a whole host of injuries, some more serious than others. I take care of the most pressing issues first, and then move on. Sadly, Christmas is the equivalent of a hangnail on a burn victim. Somehow I can't see the ER docs putting off the skin grafts to treat the hangnail.
So in the end, all I can say is,
Happy Fucking Holidays
and
Happy Festivus
You know what I'm talking about. Yeah, THAT that time of year.
Everyone knows my feelings about that time. I will not bore you with restatement. But, it is time for my annual Christmas blog post, and so here we go.
I notice that I have beat Jayson to the punch. Check out my rant from last year, here.
You can check out his - kind of - here.
So I am coming to this Christmas and thinking, what's it going to be this year?
Last Christmas I was fortunate enough to spend the Christmas season with Adam and his completely normal and well adjusted family. :) That was fun, and I made some new friends.
This Christmas I will be spending Christmas alone. I have no family entanglements, and everyone at the House will be busy with family. I am hoping to just keep my head down and weather the storm.
I wonder what will happen to our culture as more and more people lose their ability to tolerate the forms of this holiday. I am finding more and more people, who like myself, have given up on the holiday and are searching for more authentic and less painful ways to spend the season.
When I think about it, I am forced to admit that I have no positive memories of Christmas for the last ten years. During college, I would return home to find a family dissolving around me, not willing to admit it to themselves or anyone else and in the meantime force themselves to have this empty, shiny happy Christmas. After college and grad school, I was working in a church, and got exposed to the church busyness cult. That pretty much sucked all the remaining joy out of Christmas.
So, here we are at Christmas again. I feel it is necessary for me to not ruin the season for others. As hard as it is to believe, there are people out there who actually enjoy Christmas. They have positive memories, of family dinners, laughter, egg nog and carols. These are the people that look forward to Christmas all year, who can't wait to decorate the tree, and the house, and plan Christmas parties, and start their Christmas baking, do their Christmas shopping and so on. Personally, it makes the bile rise in my throat, but if they enjoy it, and it makes them happy, I don't want to ruin that. Contrary to popular belief, I am trying very hard not to ruin Christmas for others. But it is hard. When you see no redeeming qualities at all in the season, it is hard for a bastard like me to not point that out to others.
I know one person who doesn't really like Christmas, but instead throws herself into charity work for the season, and that does it for her. Admirable. In fact, I tried that this year - it helped - a little. The idea that i was making Christmas a little better for others actually made Christmas easier to handle.
I think the next couple of weeks is going to be the hardest. This is when the Christmas stuff kicks into high gear, and I am innundated with joyeux noel-isms. I can see depression setting up camp on my doorstep. There is a reason why the suicide rate spikes at this time of year. As Christmas becomes harder and harder to ignore, I will be forced to rely more and more on my own dubious mental health and discipline. But God is here.
I was hanging out with some new friends the other day, and I was talking about my dislike of Christmas. At one point I said that I hate everything that has to do with Christmas. One person said, "What about Jesus?" To which I was able to reply, very wittily I might add, "Its a good thing that Jesus has nothing to do with Christmas." Ha! I laugh at my own jokes and ignore how incredibly lame that is. :)
If you want to know my philosophical and theological reasons for disliking Christmas, check out last year's post. Mostly, though, more than the theological, philosophical and historical reasons, its the emotional reasons that drive me and end up sticking the hardest. Over the past couple of years I have been trying to shave off everything from my life that does not contribute positively to my evolution. When you have nothing but bad memories of Christmas, and there is just no joy left in it for you, I say GET RID OF IT. When did Christ ever say that we should celebrate his birth, anyway?
I know what you are thinking. Why not make new, happy memories for Christmas? Take back what was taken from me, and reclaim Christmas for myself and my own happiness. After all, I am responsible for my own happiness. Well, you're right. However, I treat my life like a trauma victim. Kind of an alarming analogy, but apt nonetheless. My life is like a trauma victim with a whole host of injuries, some more serious than others. I take care of the most pressing issues first, and then move on. Sadly, Christmas is the equivalent of a hangnail on a burn victim. Somehow I can't see the ER docs putting off the skin grafts to treat the hangnail.
So in the end, all I can say is,
Happy Fucking Holidays
and
Happy Festivus
Friday, December 02, 2005
Back from the Wilderness
So I just spent the past two weeks in Saskatoon.
And I have survived to tell the story. No, actually, it was great.
I spent the time with Jayson and Estelle. Everytime I stay with them it is always so great, and I always gush about them on my blog. This is no different. They were incredibly awesome, but since I am lacking in creativity, you can insert your own gushing here. Consider yourself gushed upon.
Since I was in pain the whole time, we didn't get in our regular quota of cut loose, crazy-ass shit, but we had our moments. And Estelle and I traded recipies alot. Woot!
Some random memories from my sojourn among the flatlanders...
Chilling in the community hot tub with Jayson and Estelle, and watching a brown-stained wet-nap float serenely by.
Hanging out at Massey Place church, and getting to meet Jayson's new crew. Props out to Clayton - he's the ni... uh... man. And Ron, king of phat bass licks and sweet accordian grooves. And just for the record, Jeff has a really nice ass - Joanna is SO lucky!
Honestly though, I really enjoyed my time at Massey. The people were really warm and gracious to me. They seemed like the kind of people that i could hang out with quite easily. There seems to be a number of kindred spirits there. If I ever end up in Saskatoon, at least I know what church I would be going to. Back to the memories...
Preaching at Massey. That sermon just kept going and going and going and going and going. At least someone got something out of it. The pictures were pretty.
Hanging out with Andre and Robyn. These are Jayson's friends from Calgary who came out right at the end of my stay. It was awesome hanging out with them. I would say more, but there is a ninja haze of confusion blocking my memories... NINJA!
How often do you have to go hang out in the house of a pacifist, the pastor of a mennonite church, in order to learn about knife-fighting?
Man, that chick in the mennonite thirft store really wanted me!
Got to spend some time with Nathan and Krista. I love those guys.
Saw a little of Ryeshy. Got treated to a nocturnal symphony. Didn't get a chance to meet his squeeze.
Sitting, wrapped in two blankets, another blanket around my head, watching my breath steam in the air as we watched movies and alot of poker! And a couple of soccer games.
Going mini-golfing and ending up with a bruised knee and a gash on the top of my head. I'm sure that is something only I could manage.
Don't yell profanity in the middle of a Value Village. Lesson learned.
Don't get between Jayson and his daily consumer purchase. "Dude! These are 150 dollar Doc Martins boots! It doesn't matter if I don't need them or can't wear them!" Lesson learned.
Mennonites don't like the word "titties." Even when you say they're nice. Lesson learned.
Two words: NINJA!
I don't know how to swim in Saskatchewan either.
I had a really great time. I made some new friends, got on the nerves of some old ones, and learned some valuable lessons in the meantime. Going and spending time in SK with Jayson and Estelle always serves to challenge me in my own vision and mission, help me understand things just a but better, and I always end up relaxed and refreshed. Thankfully, they keep me to a fairly relaxed pace, even when I'm told we have to leave in six minutes and thirty-seven seconds. I had no idea that any one man could drink as much Coke Zero as I did. Good thing I'm only drinking salty water. You should always have a retreat... a place you can go and decompress, reorient, and gain perspective. For some, its the mountains, or a retreat center somewhere... for me, its Saskatoon with Jayson and Estelle.
And I have survived to tell the story. No, actually, it was great.
I spent the time with Jayson and Estelle. Everytime I stay with them it is always so great, and I always gush about them on my blog. This is no different. They were incredibly awesome, but since I am lacking in creativity, you can insert your own gushing here. Consider yourself gushed upon.
Since I was in pain the whole time, we didn't get in our regular quota of cut loose, crazy-ass shit, but we had our moments. And Estelle and I traded recipies alot. Woot!
Some random memories from my sojourn among the flatlanders...
Chilling in the community hot tub with Jayson and Estelle, and watching a brown-stained wet-nap float serenely by.
Hanging out at Massey Place church, and getting to meet Jayson's new crew. Props out to Clayton - he's the ni... uh... man. And Ron, king of phat bass licks and sweet accordian grooves. And just for the record, Jeff has a really nice ass - Joanna is SO lucky!
Honestly though, I really enjoyed my time at Massey. The people were really warm and gracious to me. They seemed like the kind of people that i could hang out with quite easily. There seems to be a number of kindred spirits there. If I ever end up in Saskatoon, at least I know what church I would be going to. Back to the memories...
Preaching at Massey. That sermon just kept going and going and going and going and going. At least someone got something out of it. The pictures were pretty.
Hanging out with Andre and Robyn. These are Jayson's friends from Calgary who came out right at the end of my stay. It was awesome hanging out with them. I would say more, but there is a ninja haze of confusion blocking my memories... NINJA!
How often do you have to go hang out in the house of a pacifist, the pastor of a mennonite church, in order to learn about knife-fighting?
Man, that chick in the mennonite thirft store really wanted me!
Got to spend some time with Nathan and Krista. I love those guys.
Saw a little of Ryeshy. Got treated to a nocturnal symphony. Didn't get a chance to meet his squeeze.
Sitting, wrapped in two blankets, another blanket around my head, watching my breath steam in the air as we watched movies and alot of poker! And a couple of soccer games.
Going mini-golfing and ending up with a bruised knee and a gash on the top of my head. I'm sure that is something only I could manage.
Don't yell profanity in the middle of a Value Village. Lesson learned.
Don't get between Jayson and his daily consumer purchase. "Dude! These are 150 dollar Doc Martins boots! It doesn't matter if I don't need them or can't wear them!" Lesson learned.
Mennonites don't like the word "titties." Even when you say they're nice. Lesson learned.
Two words: NINJA!
I don't know how to swim in Saskatchewan either.
I had a really great time. I made some new friends, got on the nerves of some old ones, and learned some valuable lessons in the meantime. Going and spending time in SK with Jayson and Estelle always serves to challenge me in my own vision and mission, help me understand things just a but better, and I always end up relaxed and refreshed. Thankfully, they keep me to a fairly relaxed pace, even when I'm told we have to leave in six minutes and thirty-seven seconds. I had no idea that any one man could drink as much Coke Zero as I did. Good thing I'm only drinking salty water. You should always have a retreat... a place you can go and decompress, reorient, and gain perspective. For some, its the mountains, or a retreat center somewhere... for me, its Saskatoon with Jayson and Estelle.
