Journal of an Awakening

(Search & Sitemap) > Writing > Journals > Journal of an Awakening
Skip Back  Previous  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  Next  Skip Forward
Printer-Friendly Version

Advent is a time of spiritual housecleaning to prepare for Christ's coming. During church I realized that what is happening with me now is very much Advent -- which was surprising to me, because usually what is happening with me does not line up with the dates on the church calendar. It is the same thing, only at a different time. Advent is a time like that before a guest comes; there is both expectation, and a cleaning preparation. God may have a wonderful Christmas in store for me.

Last night, I had some time before bed that I didn't know what to do with. I felt let down and deserted; my emotions were of the same kind as when I had time and was unable to think of anything worthwhile. So I prayed.

The first thought that occurred to me was to clean my room. But I was reluctant to do that, and said in sincerity "I'm not ready for that now." The next thought was of catching up on my New Testament reading (the one part out of four that I hadn't caught up on yet), but I was Bibled out for the day. Then I cleaned up a couple of the larger items on my floor and paced a bit, and noticed on the piano a page of music that I had left out: a simple piano arrangement of Amazing Grace. I played that with pleasure, and when I was standing up to leave I noticed a splash of color: Roger van Oech's Creative Whack Pack.

The Creative Whack Pack, which I had noticed earlier and forgotten to look at, is a deck of 64 cards, each one of which has a tip on how to function more creativity. It is quite good, especially for someone who doesn't know how to use his creative faculties well or doesn't have naturally flowing creative juices (another good resource is a book entitled Conceptual Blockbusting, written for engineers but valuable to all sorts of people). I slowly read through a few cards, trying to savor the experience rather than fly through and have the whole deck read before I knew it. Some were things I knew, a couple were surprises, and after hitting "Sell, sell, sell!", I acknowledged an insight which I had been suppressing: some of aspects of the cards were questionable, or at least left another shoe to drop. Someone said, "Never mind about others stealing your ideas. If they're really good, you'll have to ram them down people's throats." The resistance suggested in that quote is akin to a resistance I had been putting up so well that I wasn't even aware of it: that the authority (in this case, the deck) could be wrong. Once I admitted that idea, I had another idea for something to write: "The Other Side of the Coin," which would give the other side of the coin for these cards. (I'm not going to share that writing, at least yet, for copyright reasons: at least the most obvious good way to write it would involve citing the entire text of the cards, and I'm not doing that without obtaining permission from Mr. von Oech.) It's good to have something more to write.

I thought a small group meeting I was invited to, was going to be at 5:00, and was disappointed to find out that it's not until 6:00 or 7:00 (I'm writing a bit before 6:00). I started reading through more of the Creative Whack Pack, and then set it down and noticed three pieces of framed Malaysian batik that are hanging on the wall (and just now, the play of the light). The batik is really beautiful, with flowing colors, and I hadn't really noticed it when I came in. It's a funny thing to realize after writing what I wrote about the two museum goers.

This journal is more of an outer journal -- a journal of what I do and what happens to me -- and less of an inner journal -- a journal of what transpires within me and who I am -- than I'd intended. I'm not sure what to make of that; perhaps it's better that way. I don't know.

I feel a certain trepidation towards going to work tomorrow. Especially after a long weekend, it's hard to go back to work... the dread I feel is similar to that I feel towards driving a car, which can leave me lying in bed slightly nervous the night before, and similar to the trepidation I feel in anticipating a long block of time I can't think of anything to do in. It is not an intense fear, but one that is vague, ill-defined, and discomforting. In it is some doubt -- the little doubt is a doubt that I'll have enough energy to keep going, and the big doubt is a doubt that it'll be like the time I've spent with God over the weekend.

These emotions do not correspond entirely to my best rational judgments. I know in my head that God is quite as capable of meeting me as I am testing toy computers as he is of meeting me as I read something good or write this journal, and that the work day is only four hours, which I am ready for. I know in my head, but my heart doesn't know, and I'm a bit scared.

I am taking this as a time to trust him, to (as the Mars Hill article says) embrace my nakedness and trust in God's goodness.

Something else which I just realized (or, more properly, admitted to myself) as another place where soul work is required...

I cannot now say "I am an American," with the same secure pleasure that I would say "Je suis un français," were that true.

I am legitimately far more European in spirit than most Americans. I believe that there severe flaws in American culture, moreso than most fallen cultures -- ranging from pragmatism that has no patience for things without immediately visible use (which turns out to mean many of the deepest and best things in life), to television, to a shallow and disposable concept of human relationships -- and I know that Neil Postman in Technopoly certainly wasn't grinding an axe against America when he named America the world's first and (as of the book's writing) only technocracy (a country which is ruled by technology). I enjoy a great many things about French and other European culture: the sound of the language, the idea of moderation in use of alcohol, the deeper friendships, the higher level of education and greater intellectual substance of the conversations people have (a group of French young people will discuss Balzac rather than the Bears), the old cities, the art, the architecture, the speaking multiple languages, the body language, the kisses, and many other things I cannot now name. After she spent a month in France, my ex-fiancée Rebecca commented that everything she saw there reminded her of me. I hold both differences with many of the peculiar features of American culture, and affinities to many aspects of European culture. That stated, there is still something in the picture that is wrong.

Perhaps a way to state it is that I not only embody certain European characteristics, but wistfully wish to be what I am not, and be further over. That doesn't capture the latter part quite well... Another approximation would be to say that it's like a child's walking, dressing, and talking like a sports hero -- appropriate in a boy, but not in a man. It may have something to do with a manifestation of reverse culture shock that I haven't gotten over for some reason. A good description of the root problem would be to say that I'm not at peace with being an American.

In college, I wrote a cynical book entitled Hayward's Unabridged Dictionary. All of the problems I described in that book are real problems, but it was still written in the wrong spirit. I wrote in a way that took pleasure from pointing out what was wrong, and that should never be. As I let go of that, I realized that one of the tests of love is to see everything a cynic sees, and still not be a cynic. I don't want to stop seeing all of the problems in American culture, nor do I want to stop being somewhat European in spirit, nor do I want to stop seeing how beautiful French culture is. What I do want is the analogue of still not being a cynic: to be at peace with being an American. Living in France was a great blessing for a certain period of time, and it will always be a sweet memory, but it is not a blessing I have now, and perhaps a blessing I may never again have this side of heaven. I still may not fit in very well among typical Americans, and that does not bother me. I do want to stop looking down on my homeland -- and really hold it to be my homeland -- and take that culture as a basis for interacting with other cultures.

This is a less-wild lover to give up.

I have been granted a reprieve, in the form of a bug that's been floating around. What I have is fairly mild, and I would go, but a 20 minute drive when you have diarrhea is risky.

(But the reprieve hasn't been as exciting as I'd hoped.)

I just realized something that I don't know exactly what to do with.

In the early stages of a friendship, it is easy to share things about yourself with your friend, because you don't know each other very well. As time passes, that becomes more difficult; it's harder to think of something to share. I was expecting something similar to appear with this journal. It may well kick in at a later date (I've only been writing for about two weeks) -- but I am surprised at the pace I've been able to keep up with. (I have been looking forward to the slowing up, in order to write a less gargantuan epistle, leaving something behind that will let people see the crystallized essence of my journey.)

I acquired a Dilbert poster that listed several definitions to terms in information technology jargon. Among the definitions new to me was 'brain dump', defined as "The act of telling someone everything one knows about a particular topic or project. Typically used when someone is going to let a new party utilize and maintain a piece of programming code." That struck me as a really cool phrase, in part because I am familiar with the Unix term 'core dump' from which it would appear to have come. It's a beautiful metaphor.

I was looking for an opportunity to use it, and today I realized that what I am writing is a brain dump of an awakening. I thought for a bit about changing the title of this document to "Brain Dump of an Awakening," but the term's really too obscure to use in a title... unless it's something that would acquire meaning as its definition is encountered in the document... not for the moment, at least.

When I first heard about Y2k, I basically ignored it, or more properly did not seriously think about it. I am not much given to alarmist pictures.

In my job search, I talked with some consultants who are involved in selling Y2k merchandise, who painted a doomsday picture and then gave me a couple of URLs to look at. I looked at them and others; with others since then, I've seen expert opinion varying from hiccup to doomsday. What is disturbing is that the thinking of the doomsday experts seems eminently rational; with my knowledge of the realities of software maintenance, the argument I've seen for why the power grid should be expected to go dark makes perfect sense. I haven't seen rebuttals to the arguments for things going wrong. Now, I'm not sure either way; I haven't seen evidence to persuade in another direction, but either outcome tendency seems plausible. I would say that there is at least a 30% chance of something going severely wrong: the grid going black, or distribution logistics breaking because of defective code (and fixing that stuff involves finding several needles in a haystack), or chaos because of public panic, or some stock market crash for these or other reasons. If some of those things happen, I will probably die.

One thing that I observed in people talking about how to prepare for Y2k was that there was a lot of talk about preparation for physical needs (food, water, heat, money...), and almost no talk about mental, emotional, and spiritual preparation. This seemed to make no sense to me, as (for example) being snowbound generally offers no severe physical threats, but causes people to go batty ("cabin fever"). Disasters seem to be at least as much a mental stress as a physical threat, and being properly prepared at least as much psychologically as physically. I asked in a couple of newsgroups about this. Apart from "I've noticed this, too; please tell me what you find," I got basically three responses: (1) Get books, games, contraceptives, etc. to pass the time, (2) you could study a martial art, as the discipline will help you, and (3) draw close to the Lord.

Many people have been helped by faith in traumatic situations, such as being held hostage and prisoner by terrorists. I was a bit disappointed by the answers I got, because I was hoping for something I didn't know or couldn't have guessed at, but especially with the third one... I do not see this awakening in terms of Y2k (I did not make a connection before today), but if I were primarily concerned with spiritual preparation for Y2k, I would not choose much differently from what I am doing now.

Martin Luther was once asked what he would do if he knew that the Lord were returning the next day. His answer? "Plant a tree."

Read more...

Top

(Search & Sitemap) > Writing > Journals > Journal of an Awakening
Skip Back  Previous  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  Next  Skip Forward
Printer-Friendly Version