Back to the Well

The longer I go without writing, the higher my expectations for what I should be writing get, and the harder it is for me to start writing again. Is anyone else this way, or am I the only loony in this particular bin? If I was this way about food, my belly wouldn't get in the way of my yoga exercises anymore!

I took a wonderful online class last spring called The Beginning Writer's Workshop. It was fun, it stretched me, and I did very well in it. Around that time, I had quit blogging to focus more on the "real world" and concentrate on writing projects. In spite of finishing this wonderful class and making more time by ending my blog, guess what happened? You got it: I had trouble writing anything at all this summer. In spite of the fact that it completely contradicted all the advice offered by the instructor, I think the class raised my expectations to the point where I kept waiting until I felt good enough, had enough time, and was inspired enough to produce a masterpiece. Instead of concentrating on my writing, I just quit.

I'm going to blame it on my bad memory. I can never seem to remember that creativity is like a well that fills rather than empties as I draw out of it. Every word written is worthwhile, even if it is only to get it out of my brain so I can see the word that was hiding underneath it.

So now I'm blogging again, writing in my journal(s), and jotting down notes, quotes, and other thoughts about anything and everything in my pocket notebook. It feels good to be drawing from the well again. Nothing particularly profound has bubbled out; but when I look down, the glint of sunlight on the water seems a little closer to the top than it was yesterday.

Even gooder

Repent and believe in the gospel, Jesus says. Turn around and believe that the good news that we are loved is gooder than we ever dared hope, and that to believe in that good news, to live out of it and toward it, to be in love with that good news, is of all glad things in this world the gladdest thing of all.

- Frederick Buechner, from Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons

1000 Hills Haiku

Bright, twinkling ripples
Light blown by the summer wind
Lapping autumn shores

We took the kids out to Thousand Hills State Park yesterday after hitting the Kirksville Farmer's Market and doing some shopping. It was a nearly perfect day: a light breeze was blowing, the sun shone in a cloudless, deep blue sky, and the temperature hovered around eighty degrees. The kids played on the playground while Amy looked for lizards along the edge of the trees, and we took a short walk in the woods, stopping to let the kids see the "cave" along one of the trails.

After a little more playground time, we drove down to the lake and the kids had a ball poking along the shore. Cristofer hunted for unopened mussel shells; I think he was hoping for pearls! The girls and Nick waded in to collect "seaweed" for some inexplicable purpose. It all reminded me how much I love the shore (particularly the ocean, but a lakeshore will do). The sound of the water and the sight of constantly shifting light and shadow are as close to my definition of "peaceful" as anything else I can imagine. The waves beckon, whispering of hidden coves and secret beaches, private worlds waiting to be discovered. Here at the end of the land, the imagination can sail out into the blue, bound for distant shores and exotic destinations.

I'm just a drop in the sea
Painted blue, painted green
And I move with abandon
Impossibly free
So jump into that stream
Take it down to the river
And follow the river to me

Truth vs. Fact

I publicly disagreed with wonderful, recently-deceased author Madeleine L'Engle in my post about Harry Potter. In case she was thinking of haunting me to get revenge, I thought I'd post this lovely bit from an interview she did with Newsweek. After Ms. L'Engle has suggested that not all of the Bible is meant to be taken literally, the interviewer asks if that means we don't need to take it seriously. Her response is wonderful:

Oh no, you do, because it’s truth, not fact, and you have to take truth seriously even when it expands beyond the facts.

The power of peace, the weakness of anger

Very often people object that nonviolence seems to imply passive acceptance of injustice and evil and therefore that it is a kind of cooperation with evil. Not at all. The genuine concept of nonviolence implies not only active and effective resistance to evil but in fact a more effective resistance... But the resistance which is taught in the Gospel is aimed not at the evil-doer but at evil in its source.

- Thomas Merton, from Passion For Peace

I have found myself more and more bothered by violence. That seems a silly thing to say, but it is easy growing up in America to become somewhat numb. It is considered normal child's play to pretend to shoot one's playmates, wipe out the indians one more time, make the prisoner's walk the plank. Arrrr, we're jolly pirates.

Why is this? Is it, as some Christian writers would have us believe, because God made us to conquer? We've certainly done a good job "subduing" the earth; of course, we haven't left much to be masters of. Is it as the scientists say, because we are dealing with the leftover traits ingrained in us by years of struggle to survive the evolutionary development of our world? Personally, I tend to lean more toward the Budweiser solution, why ask why?

In the middle of this meditation on peace and non-violence, one of my kids, who we are pretty sure struggles with ADHD, had an extreme meltdown, throwing a major fit about getting ready for bed. Being the thoughtful, non-violent person I am, I blew up and even gave her a swat, my doubts about the virtues of spanking notwithstanding. Then I blew up at Amy and wound up having to leave the house and take a drive. Yes, I'm afraid I'm really like that. Ironic isn't it, given the subject matter of this post?

While I was cooling off, I realized that the very thing I had been posting about could have helped. I responded to my child's violent fit with a violent temper, and the situation quickly deteriorated. We have learned with another child who has been diagnosed with ADHD that the only thing to do is to refuse to fight with them, back off, and let them settle down. Then they often become compliant as though the incident did not happen. In other words, when, instead of anger and insistence on obedience, I respond in understanding, the problem goes away. The cheesy proverb on my box of tea says it this way: "He who forgives end the argument."

This goes against the grain for many of us. I have heard things like, "You have to teach your children respect." Now I believe I must earn their respect. I have heard that, "You must demand that your children obey." Now I believe I must help them obey. I have heard it said that, "You have to be consistent; don't back down." Consistency is good, but if I'm wrong, apologizing and changing is better than standing firm. As Thomas Merton said above, "...the resistance which is taught in the Gospel is aimed not at the evil-doer but at evil in its source." It is more important to resist the violence within than the violence without.

So I cooled off and came home and made all of my apologies. I'm really good at apologies; I've had so much practice! You know, my kids don't know what it's like to have a great dad; but they do know what it's like to have a human dad. If nothing else, I hope they will grow up learning to admit they're wrong after having seen me do it so much!

This post began with thoughts about peace and non-violence, and I'd like to return to that eventually. For now, I am grateful for the interruption of a blog post to break open the violence in my soul and expose it to the healing of forgiveness.

Harry Potter

I recently finished the final book in J.K. Rowling's unbelievably popular series. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was actually better than I expected. I had read some well-it's-OK-but-not-as-good-as-such-and-such kind of reviews, so I went in not sure what I would think. Now? My enthusiasm for the series has been completely confirmed.

The thing I like about the series more than anything else is that I find in it what recently deceased author Madeleine L'Engle felt was missing from the Harry Potter story: meaning. I enjoy a good story, but more and more as I get older, I like to take something away from the story: some grain of hope, a deeper understanding of myself or other people, some insight into the world. I do not, however, have any fondness whatsoever for allegory or morality tales. They tend to oversimplify the complexity of life and to be preachy. I think when an author tells it like it is, meaning will arise from the story.

Anyway, until the end, I'd have been hard pressed to slap a meaning or theme on the Harry Potter series. Now, looking back, I do see a theme running all the way through; and, ironically enough for all the Harry-Potter-is-the-devil religious uproar over the books, it is perhaps best expressed with a verse from the Christian bible.

For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. (Matt 16:25)

I'm not suggesting this theme was J.K. Rowling's purpose for writing the books or that there aren't a million other themes to be found in the books, only that this is the one that stands out to me.

I can hear the fundamentalist sputtering starting already: "But--but--but--" Spit it out. "But, Jesus said, 'for me,' and Harry Potter doesn't say anything about Jesus!" Oh? And what about Jesus' statement that whatever we do for "the least of these" we do for him? Kind of broadens your perspective doesn't it? The fact is that Jesus' life, death, and resurrection were a simple testimony of the power of this idea of finding life by losing it and losing it when we are too busy trying to save it.

I know that reading such terrible books was supposed to lead to my sacrificing my firstborn by a full moon and calling for the devil to possess my soul, but instead I found myself lost in contemplation of the wonderful mystery of the resurrection. It reminds me of a part of a verse from Carrie Newcomer's amazing song, "Holy As A Day Is Spent":

Holy is the place I stand
To give whatever small good I can
And the empty page, and the open book
Redemption everywhere I look

Your mileage may vary, but in this particular open book, I did indeed find plenty of redemption.