The Butcher's Hour

Okay, so I had to perform a snippit of a song today for our opening convocation and I butchered it up good. That stinks. Now, there was some technical difficulty that I think I handled well and all responses are consistent with that thought. But still, I butchered the song. That hurts. Ah well, at least now I've said it out loud and I can begin moving on. Embarrassment is a part of life. Next.

Be well...

God by numbers

God can never be proven or disproven, there is only what is perceived. Any attempt to claim a definitive knowledge of or against God is a childish claim to supremacy and omnipotence.

Any claim to perceive God should come with the allowance for different perceptions of the same God, just like two observers of stars in different hemispheres must allow that each are studying the same sky.

Any claim that no god exists must be accompanied by the allowance that there is no way to disprove a concept that is unknowable at its source. The same two stargazers must recognize that their reality is only their own, and only that reality can be theirs. The reality of another is unknowable at its source.

All attempts to prove or disprove God are only born out of the need to know what can never be known; the seemingly genetic desire of humans to assert an individual and collective will on all things, leaving no thing unreachable, unconquerable, or unknowable.

As one may know God via experience while another knows just as powerfully that there is no god, so too do many points exist between A and B. Some know God as just, others as jealous; some as loving, still others as taskmaster. Some know God as Christ, some as Vishnu, some as singular, and some as plural.

There is no knowledge where God is discussed, there is only comfort, searching and discerning. Never should there be a wall, nor a statement. God's existance is not knowable, because God as a concept is beyond full comprehension, just as I cannot look at the ground and see the whole earth. Neither can I see the sphere of Earth from space and understand the blade of grass.

Our Summer in Photos - minus the significant portion of the summer during which our camera was lost, an event to remember in and of itself (or Deus)

We went to Vegas where, via Cirque du Soleil, the Beatles are being introduced and celebrated in a whole new exciting way. Here I am standing outside theater (we didn't see the show) wherein Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr sat during the premier. Sweet!



















We got stuck in Denver for an extra day. Here we are lamenting our delay in Vegas.
















A summer storm tested my 2/3 built fence by dropping three 6" branches on it. We lost one picket. Pretty good, I'd say!
















I dragged the family out in the van and wandered around the dirt roads of Chase County until we found the site of the farm I lived on as a small child and the first church I ever knew, Wonsevu Christian.
































Some of us began to look much, much older than we used to.

















We continued to get to know Rigby, our now 10 month old puppy. He's a digger. But he's a cuddler, too! Now I just need to remember to buy doggy nail trimmers.
















Lennon had his fourth birthday. Most of the pics are on Grandma's camera. I think this is from Maggie's birthday. It was shortly after Lennon's birthday party that we found the camera at church. Thank God! *chortle*

















But no worries, as Lennon enjoyed Maggie's ninth birthday plenty!




For the kids' birthdays this year we took them on their very own dinner with Mom & Dad and then on a shopping trip. We set a spending limit in our heads and steered the kids in particular directions. We all enjoyed the experiences. Below is Maggie being pretty jazzed about her Build-a-Bear monkey. The shoes on the rack behind could shod an entire third-world country.
















The fence was completed, though the gate (not pictured) still needs attention. We've had a lot of good chances to enjoy our new space and to let Rigby run and dig incredibly dangerous holes.







I also fixed our broken John Deere riding mower, which has been handy.

We enjoyed sharing our summer with friends and family and are looking forward to Winfield!

Be well.

I like the alto part

Altos are my favorite voicing. Soft, warm and soothing. Yeah, altos.

Blame Belinda Carlisle

I was about 12 when I had my first overtly "adult" crush on a celebrity. It was Belinda Carlisle and the song was "Summer Rain.". Since then, summer storms have held a certain soothing, romantic place in my heart. It's a nice place.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s67FEby4pE8

Heaven isn't too far away...

Most nights the kids start out in our bed. At some point before (usually RIGHT before) we go to bed they get moved to their own rooms. I'm often struck that they won't always be "holdable" size. Not only that, but likely before I'm ready, I'll leave them on this earth. These thoughts make me stop and look; I look at them, I look at life, at Megan and the world. It's great to know that the end creates appreciation of the now.

I don't know what heaven will be like, but it can't be a damn sight better than holding my children in my arms.

"Knowing when you have enough avoids dishonor..." The Tao Te Ching

I have to remind myself every day that I'm one of the wealthiest people on the planet. The population quickly approaches 7 billion and I have more material possessions than at least 80% of them. This is absurd, but what approaches ridiculousness is the way that I still want more.

Megan and I have jobs that, by American standards, do not pay well. Yet, when I say the words "[2.1x]" or fill out a W-4 I'm amazed at how high that is. I have good reason to believe my parents never made more than $[x] in any given year. My household has doubled the income of my parents' household. This is progress to be proud of, if progress makes you proud. For me, it does. Yet I sometimes lose sight of the fact that we are told multiple hundreds of millions of people--billions even--live on $1 a day. We are told that for mere pennies a day we can sustain the nourishment and education of children in third world countries. So why do I become upset when I can't afford a Wii and Beatles Rock Band?

We, for all intents and purposes, own a home. We have a parcel of land, a piece of our universal earth, that is solely our right and property, mortgage not withstanding. The ability to do this, let alone the reality of completing such a transaction, is wealth beyond measure on a global scale. Let's not forget that I spend a tidy sum every month for the added comfort of artificially controlling the weather and the condition of the water inside my home.

Let's just talk about what I do inside this home: automatically wash laundry and dishes; access the Internet with a computer that I own, or that is given to me by my employer; bathe in more water than some people see in a day; sleep on a mattress that, while uncomfortable, beats lying on the ground and has no bugs; spend money to feed an animal that provides me with no food items whatsoever; put product in my hair; throw away or ignore altogether food that a billion people might murder for; entertain myself by staring at the TV; leave on a night light; play video games; I suppose the list of unnecessary activities and items could really be endless.

We own two cars, four bicycles and a 50cc scooter. We have two licensed drivers. There are people in this town who cannot afford the life-changing power that one old clunker would give them. If memory serves, there's a historical study somewhere that supports the mobility of populations as a major key to the acquisition of wealth. If I really wanted it that bad, recession aside, I could easily drive to the bigger market in Wichita and make myself richer.

Speaking of jobs and being richer, I have the luxury of working at a job that is meaningful to me. I am not forced to do whatever I can, anything at all, to feed my children. For that matter, I have the wealth to hire a doctor to safely and successfully put an end to my acquisition of children!

Life is truly good and I am undeservedly fortunate.

So why do I constantly want more, even in the face of all of this knowledge?




Photo courtesy of jeremyclawson.blogspot.com
RIP JAC

Un-fully-formed thought for the day

 

I'm concerned that Christianity could perhaps be the understanding of God that has wandered farthest from the source. Three basic assumptions to inform the space from which I begin:

God is indefinable;

God is uncontrollable;

God is all-powerful and all-merciful, both of which are obvious by our very existence.

So it seems to me that Christianity, of all the world's religions, has attempted to apply the most definition to, exert the most control over, and claim for itself the power and mercy inherent in, the Prime Mover. One of the most important pieces of evidence for this is the figure of Jesus Christ, a half-human, whom Christianity places at the center of all relationship with the infinite. Thus, in the Christian model, a human being becomes God incarnate, the "right-hand-man," and the powerful counsel, judge, jury, and executioner. In most denominational foci, in fact, a Son of Man has indeed become God through the Trinitarian position. In a large historical context construction, then, Christianity has altered the concept of God to place humanity at the center instead of the Prime Mover.

It has then grown up, as de facto God, placing restrictions on the relationship with the infinite, limits on God's love, strict definitions about which portions of creation are most important or even acceptable (see: role of women; subservience of nature; the book of Revelation; draconian treatises on homosexuality, questions of faith, or human weakness [New Testament statements]). God's mystery, unpredictability, power and mercy are all still proclaimed, but only through the lens of acceptability that is Jesus' human ascension to the throne.

Islam is guilty of many of the harsh definitions and pigeon-holes for God that I mention in Christianity as well. Islam, as I understand it, would however agree with my position that Jesus, as a human, has been incorrectly raised to the level of God. Eastern religions would all tend to fall nicely within the assumptions I laid out above.

In historical, philosophical and theological contexts, however, I wonder if Christianity has created an understanding where humans are actually at the center of study and worship, instead of God. This would make sense with Christianity having been born out of Middle Eastern Hellenistic culture.

I am neither historian, philosopher, nor theologian; I am but a traveler and observer.

No I would not sleep in this bed of lies,

So toss me out, and turn in.

And there'll be no rest for these tired eyes.

I'm marking it down to learning; I am.

What's been on my mind

This is a photo of the craziest play I ever performed in. The man in the middle is Jeremy Clawson, the woman on his right is his wife, Cheyla. As I recall, they met and fell in love during this show. That's how I remember it.



1st Lt. Jeremy Clawson - One of the most enigmatic and striking people I've ever known died recently and my thoughts about his passing have been worthy of a Jackson Pollock painting. I met Jeremy about 12 years ago, as near as I can recall, and can only claim him as a part of my life for no more than 1 year, but I'm tempted to say it was more like 6 months. Jeremy was a person that you do not easily forget. Intense in every way, quick to laughter with wells for eyes, he was instantly likeable. I cannot possibly do justice to the impact that this thunderclap of a human left on me in such a short time.

Ironically, in context of my description of his impact, it's easily been 10 years since I've spoken to Jeremy in person. (As I sit at a coffee shop in Kansas City typing this, the song from his funeral, which I had never heard before that day, I am now hearing for the second time in my life. Weird. [Death Cab for Cutie, "I'll Follow You Into the Dark]) However, both Megan and I know that Jeremy and Cheyla's journey of love contains many powerful parallels with our own. So, as we did our best to explain to Cheyla at Jeremy's funeral, we've always looked to them from afar for assurance that love can be maintained through intensity--that it can be tested and strengthened in the process. So to see the passionate husband and father taken out of that equation is unsettling at the least.

I did, through the power of Facebook, have the opportunity to chat with Jeremy online over the last few years. A couple of those times, he was on deployment in Afghanistan. He was, of course, a soldier; by all accounts, a proud and exemplary, dedicated soldier. He was also a staunch advocate for the human condition, an obvious believer in the value of humanity, the power of the human mind and spirit. As much as that belief does not mesh with military service in my mind, the thought that keeps coming back to me is this: the person who would have been the most fun, most intellegent, and most challenging to engage in that conversation was Jeremy, and I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to do that. It is true that I barely knew him, but I respected, observed, even envied him. The human condition is reduced with his passing.