Posts
Kevin Kelly is a writer and senior brain at Wired magazine. I first came across him by reading his essay "Scan this book!" in one of Jeff Shafer's issues of New York Times Magazine that was sitting on the dining room table in 329 last spring. I was inspired to go back and look up this article after realizing that it had significantly implanted itself in a central part of my brain--I think I've referred to it in about 25 conversations since the time I read it.
In "Scan this book!", Kelly explores the meaning and ramifications of Google's ongoing project to digitize all books. Here is my html version of the article, which is really a travesty considering the (characteristically) beautiful layout and accompanying photography from the magazine version. It's probably worth searching out a physical copy at your local library. (It will be found in the May 2006 issue).
He's got other technology-related essays on his personal website and some shorter stuff on his blog.
Here is one such short piece that I will recommend: "The Rise and Fall of the Copy"
As they have done for me, his writings may very well force you to edge topics you may have formerly relegated to the category "irrelevant sci-fi inquiries" into your everyday perspective on the world.
“ ”
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. says:
"Whom you would change you must first love, and they must know that you love them."
"Whom you would change you must first love, and they must know that you love them."
A feeling of existential dread
The most recent chapter in my ongoing Philip Glass infatuation, I just picked up the Fog of War soundtrack from the library. Nothing ground-breaking, just more of the same old quality Glass.
I thought I'd pass on the following note from Errol Morris, the film-maker, that is found in the liner notes:
"How do you write music for a story that encompasses the 20th Century...? A story that also combines elements of caprice and destiny. And at its center a story that asks whether war is inevitable, unavoidable, part of human nature. This is my third collaboration with Philip Glass, and I cannot think of who else could have written the music. I once told Philip that he creates a feeling of existential dread better than anyone else I knew of. And this is a movie filled with existential dread. I like to think of it as music for the apocalypse, where the apocalypse is not so much the end of the world but just more of what we've seen before, more of the same."
I am reminded of how good of a movie that was. A fantastic example of the impression that a truly artful documentary can make.
I thought I'd pass on the following note from Errol Morris, the film-maker, that is found in the liner notes:
"How do you write music for a story that encompasses the 20th Century...? A story that also combines elements of caprice and destiny. And at its center a story that asks whether war is inevitable, unavoidable, part of human nature. This is my third collaboration with Philip Glass, and I cannot think of who else could have written the music. I once told Philip that he creates a feeling of existential dread better than anyone else I knew of. And this is a movie filled with existential dread. I like to think of it as music for the apocalypse, where the apocalypse is not so much the end of the world but just more of what we've seen before, more of the same."
I am reminded of how good of a movie that was. A fantastic example of the impression that a truly artful documentary can make.
Conversion
Conversion means death. A person or thing loses all meaning and life in one frame of reference to be born new in an alternate universe. The former world still exists in all of its reality, but a passer-by in that world finds only a bluish corpse remaining where there was once a life.
Whereas the Word, Logos, might refer to either the spoken or the written word, in my little theological box it has only been known to refer to the written word, that is the word that has been canonized, frozen in time, the word subject to detached discussions about context and intent.
An oral tradition seems rather attractive right now; will that is still breathed into a word-y, practically useful existence but not yet butchered on the pages of a book; will converted into a more fluid, lively word.
Jean Vanier wrote from personal experience about the natural process of institutionalization that occurs in every wave of communal energy and excitement. Meaningful movements always come about in resistance to a current, dead order but they always end up institutionalizing: Expressionism. Punk. The Jesus People. Every counterculture. Every business that comes into success by effectively serving a group of people only to end up serving nothing but the bottom line.
The predictability of the emotional highs of Pentecostal worship sets off my internal inathenticty alarm. I can understand how many people are bothered by the fixed-ness and non-emotionally-dependency of more traditional liturgical forms, but institutionalizing communal energy and always-escalating cathartic releases seems like a bit of an oxymoron to me.
Why is my future will so resistant to my present will? Why do all my desires burn out so easily? Recording thoughts in a journal (or blog) becomes my vain, sometimes frantic attempt at rigor-mortisizing the present state of mind into something durable, something capable of exerting its force beyond the next hour.
Optimists always look for some degree of practical change in the process of institutionalization. Though it is sad to see the underground become overground, they always look for the transformation and evolution of the larger system. But it's hard for me to see. I'm not ready for the death of what exists now.
The Word is alive. Does it always have to die in order to become active?
Whereas the Word, Logos, might refer to either the spoken or the written word, in my little theological box it has only been known to refer to the written word, that is the word that has been canonized, frozen in time, the word subject to detached discussions about context and intent.
An oral tradition seems rather attractive right now; will that is still breathed into a word-y, practically useful existence but not yet butchered on the pages of a book; will converted into a more fluid, lively word.
Jean Vanier wrote from personal experience about the natural process of institutionalization that occurs in every wave of communal energy and excitement. Meaningful movements always come about in resistance to a current, dead order but they always end up institutionalizing: Expressionism. Punk. The Jesus People. Every counterculture. Every business that comes into success by effectively serving a group of people only to end up serving nothing but the bottom line.
The predictability of the emotional highs of Pentecostal worship sets off my internal inathenticty alarm. I can understand how many people are bothered by the fixed-ness and non-emotionally-dependency of more traditional liturgical forms, but institutionalizing communal energy and always-escalating cathartic releases seems like a bit of an oxymoron to me.
Why is my future will so resistant to my present will? Why do all my desires burn out so easily? Recording thoughts in a journal (or blog) becomes my vain, sometimes frantic attempt at rigor-mortisizing the present state of mind into something durable, something capable of exerting its force beyond the next hour.
Optimists always look for some degree of practical change in the process of institutionalization. Though it is sad to see the underground become overground, they always look for the transformation and evolution of the larger system. But it's hard for me to see. I'm not ready for the death of what exists now.
The Word is alive. Does it always have to die in order to become active?
Buy Nothing Day 2006
The Pogo Avenger and about 30 of his friends showed up to celebrate Buy Nothing Day outside The Gallery mall in Philadelphia. Above, you seem him posing with the T.J. Maxx promotional Santa and Elves that whisked by near the end of our celebration. Here are some more photos and an in-depth report from the event.
In other BND news, see the extraordinary Reverend Billy attempting to dissuade Macy's shoppers from their early morning shopping spree. Or see him conducting services in a parking lot.
In other BND news, see the extraordinary Reverend Billy attempting to dissuade Macy's shoppers from their early morning shopping spree. Or see him conducting services in a parking lot.
Dr. Bronner
Dr. Emmanuel H. Bronner says:
"Think and act 10 years ahead! And the man without fault? He's dead! Do one thing at a time, work hard! Get done! Then teach friend and enemy the Moral ABC that unites all mankind free!"
This morning I cleansed myself with a portion of Dr. Bronner's Peppermint Pure Castile Soap (up for sale at your local Trader Joe's). It was refreshing (as always). Of interest is the label, composed by the late Dr. Bronner himself and maintained in its in all of its original, claustrophobic splendour by his sympathetic estate. Now, I am in the habit of using the bar version of the soap, which has a small, fairly utilitarian label. However, for a more interesting and characteristically Dr. Bronner label, take a peek at the smorgasbord of philosophy found on the liquid version of the soap.
"Think and act 10 years ahead! And the man without fault? He's dead! Do one thing at a time, work hard! Get done! Then teach friend and enemy the Moral ABC that unites all mankind free!"
This morning I cleansed myself with a portion of Dr. Bronner's Peppermint Pure Castile Soap (up for sale at your local Trader Joe's). It was refreshing (as always). Of interest is the label, composed by the late Dr. Bronner himself and maintained in its in all of its original, claustrophobic splendour by his sympathetic estate. Now, I am in the habit of using the bar version of the soap, which has a small, fairly utilitarian label. However, for a more interesting and characteristically Dr. Bronner label, take a peek at the smorgasbord of philosophy found on the liquid version of the soap.
Hell house
Jonathan Perry from the Boston Globe says that Hell House is "a candid and often fascinating documentary about a Pentecostal church in Dallas that assembles an elaborate haunted house each year to scare teenagers into attending services."
Perhaps it is telling that two of the critics compiled on Rotten Tomatoes compare the subject of the film to a Jack Chick tract come to life.
Having never heard anything about this recent (2002) documentary, I watched it with my housemates on Halloween. It was really good. Definitely one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. The filmmaker has incredible access to the inner workings of the "Hell House" production and captures some really amazing moments. The cinematography is nice and is made even better due to the fact that it was shot on film.
Perhaps it is telling that two of the critics compiled on Rotten Tomatoes compare the subject of the film to a Jack Chick tract come to life.
Having never heard anything about this recent (2002) documentary, I watched it with my housemates on Halloween. It was really good. Definitely one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. The filmmaker has incredible access to the inner workings of the "Hell House" production and captures some really amazing moments. The cinematography is nice and is made even better due to the fact that it was shot on film.
PETA, paranoia, vegetarianism, blah, blah, blah...
Here is Tyson's dinner prayer booklet, free for you to download. Go ahead, look it over! Despite entirely cynical preconceptions, I couldn't help but feel relaxed and warmed this sentimental little booklet.
On the other hand, here's an interesting video from inside one of Tyson's chicken processing facilities.
I am not so bothered by the visual, visceral sensation of a conscious chicken's head popping off in the rubber gloves of a weary factory employee. After all, eating meat has always involved the toleration of a certain amount of violence. It's the image of that moving belt loaded with hundreds of dead chickens, a few live ones freaking out--a mass-processing system that treats millions of living beings in every way as inanimate "food units" for their entire (short) lives.
What disturbs me even more though is how you and I deal with the disconnect between our personal comfort level and the reality of industrial meat production. I think that most of us have seen something like this at some point but we have to push the image to the back our minds, to the very edge of our consciousness, in order to contentedly eat a chicken breast. Maybe we westerners have been doing this in many areas of life ever since we had to start questioning the giddy utopianism of endlesss technological progress sometime in the middle of the 20th century, ever since we became vaguely and obscurely afraid that our lives might be negatively transformed by the elaborate systems and environments we've engineered for ourselves.
If we chose to look under the hood, we would most likely be disgusted by feces-littered pens crowded with obese chickens with clipped beaks. We might have to consider the unpleasant possibility that our international system of food production and transportation would find ways of perpetuating itself even after it ceased to be the most efficient, cheap or healthy solution. But why should I consider such complicated questions when I can easily opt for the comforting vision printed on the packaging of my chicken breasts? "Look, this food was raised on an idyllic village farm where happy, healthy animals wander around on the sun-warmed earth under the gaze of a watchful, benevolent farmer."
Corny marketing is not convincing, it's just an extremely convenient anesthetic for the chafing of our various ideals against the world as it is.
On the other hand, here's an interesting video from inside one of Tyson's chicken processing facilities.
I am not so bothered by the visual, visceral sensation of a conscious chicken's head popping off in the rubber gloves of a weary factory employee. After all, eating meat has always involved the toleration of a certain amount of violence. It's the image of that moving belt loaded with hundreds of dead chickens, a few live ones freaking out--a mass-processing system that treats millions of living beings in every way as inanimate "food units" for their entire (short) lives.
What disturbs me even more though is how you and I deal with the disconnect between our personal comfort level and the reality of industrial meat production. I think that most of us have seen something like this at some point but we have to push the image to the back our minds, to the very edge of our consciousness, in order to contentedly eat a chicken breast. Maybe we westerners have been doing this in many areas of life ever since we had to start questioning the giddy utopianism of endlesss technological progress sometime in the middle of the 20th century, ever since we became vaguely and obscurely afraid that our lives might be negatively transformed by the elaborate systems and environments we've engineered for ourselves.
If we chose to look under the hood, we would most likely be disgusted by feces-littered pens crowded with obese chickens with clipped beaks. We might have to consider the unpleasant possibility that our international system of food production and transportation would find ways of perpetuating itself even after it ceased to be the most efficient, cheap or healthy solution. But why should I consider such complicated questions when I can easily opt for the comforting vision printed on the packaging of my chicken breasts? "Look, this food was raised on an idyllic village farm where happy, healthy animals wander around on the sun-warmed earth under the gaze of a watchful, benevolent farmer."
Corny marketing is not convincing, it's just an extremely convenient anesthetic for the chafing of our various ideals against the world as it is.
Flickr
My collection of photos on Flickr. Nothing new just yet, but check out the photo-mapping feature.
Hsi-an Monument
"Twenty-seven sacred books [the number in the New Testament] have been left, which disseminate intelligence by unfolding the original transforming principles. By the rule for admission, it is the custom to apply the water of baptism, to wash away all superficial show and to cleanse and purify the neophytes. As a seal, they hold the cross, whose influence is reflected in every direction, uniting all without distinction. As they strike the wood, the fame of their benevolence is diffused abroad; worshiping toward the east, they hasten on the way to life and glory; they preserve the beard to symbolize their outward actions, they shave the crown to indicate the absence of inward affections; they do not keep slaves, but put noble and mean all on an equality; they do not amass wealth, but cast all their property into the common stock; they fast, in order to perfect themselves by self-inspection; they submit to restraints, in order to strengthen themselves by silent watchfulness; seven times a day they have worship and praise for the benefit of the living and the dead; once in seven days they sacrifice, to cleanse the heart and return to purity."
The above is an excerpt from the Hsi-an Monument, set up in 781 AD to document the several-hundred-year history of Nestorian Christian missionaries in the East, where their influence had been praised and accepted by Emperor Dezong of the Tang dynasty. Follow this link for the full translation of the monument's text.
It's always fascinating to hear about ancient movements which speak powerfully to the current "missional" trend in Christianity. For unknown reasons, Nestorian Christian presence in China had pretty much disappeared by the 1800s. Did 1950s evangelical missionaries to China know of that region's long history of interaction with Christianity or did they imagine that they were the first witnesses of Christ in Asia?
Despite widespread war between all sorts of peoples and civilizations, it strikes me that there are a lot of surprising examples of religious tolerance in the 1000s. You've got Buddhists welcoming Christians in China, St. Francis studying prayer with Muslims, and the Ottoman Empire, an entire ethnicity-spanning Muslim civilization that was explicitly and legally tolerant of Christians and Jews.
Elsewhere in the Hsi-an Monument's explication of Christianity, there are a lot of inherantly cross-cultural themes. The cross, in addition to being described as the location which defines "the four cardinal points" (N, S, E, W), becomes "a seal... whose influence is reflected in every direction, uniting all without distinction."
The above is an excerpt from the Hsi-an Monument, set up in 781 AD to document the several-hundred-year history of Nestorian Christian missionaries in the East, where their influence had been praised and accepted by Emperor Dezong of the Tang dynasty. Follow this link for the full translation of the monument's text.
It's always fascinating to hear about ancient movements which speak powerfully to the current "missional" trend in Christianity. For unknown reasons, Nestorian Christian presence in China had pretty much disappeared by the 1800s. Did 1950s evangelical missionaries to China know of that region's long history of interaction with Christianity or did they imagine that they were the first witnesses of Christ in Asia?
Despite widespread war between all sorts of peoples and civilizations, it strikes me that there are a lot of surprising examples of religious tolerance in the 1000s. You've got Buddhists welcoming Christians in China, St. Francis studying prayer with Muslims, and the Ottoman Empire, an entire ethnicity-spanning Muslim civilization that was explicitly and legally tolerant of Christians and Jews.
Elsewhere in the Hsi-an Monument's explication of Christianity, there are a lot of inherantly cross-cultural themes. The cross, in addition to being described as the location which defines "the four cardinal points" (N, S, E, W), becomes "a seal... whose influence is reflected in every direction, uniting all without distinction."
Father Aelred
Father Aelred, Benedictine monk and founder of the Monastery of Christ in the Desert, says:
"The monastery is not a refuge, not a solution for dealing with problems of adjustment. Monasticism is a head-on collision with reality, and the more silent, the more solitude, the more head-on it is."
Withdrawal from the world gets all kinds of flack from people. Say what you will, the raw idealistic commitment of classical monasticism inspires respect from me. It attempts to hollow out a space within the dense, destructive weight of a fallen world, pulling at and stretching out an ever-thinning membrane that enforces the boundary between a sin-enslaved existence and one defined by absolute freedom to obey. Forced to admit the inevitably human anchoring in the present fallen world, fanatical monks struggle to live in sync with another, incoming world.
What does a contemplative monk do? Pray. Meditate. In a practical sense, nothing. It is by definition impossible for the entire body of believers to abide in this state and what a malformed body it would be if everyone tried to or wanted to.
Speculatively, we could say that contemplative monasticism is the nervous system of the body of Christ: A network of cells, flowing upwards and inwards, towards that central point of contact with the Brain, convulsing with electric impulses which are the first physical traces of another level of consciousness.
"The monastery is not a refuge, not a solution for dealing with problems of adjustment. Monasticism is a head-on collision with reality, and the more silent, the more solitude, the more head-on it is."
Withdrawal from the world gets all kinds of flack from people. Say what you will, the raw idealistic commitment of classical monasticism inspires respect from me. It attempts to hollow out a space within the dense, destructive weight of a fallen world, pulling at and stretching out an ever-thinning membrane that enforces the boundary between a sin-enslaved existence and one defined by absolute freedom to obey. Forced to admit the inevitably human anchoring in the present fallen world, fanatical monks struggle to live in sync with another, incoming world.
What does a contemplative monk do? Pray. Meditate. In a practical sense, nothing. It is by definition impossible for the entire body of believers to abide in this state and what a malformed body it would be if everyone tried to or wanted to.
Speculatively, we could say that contemplative monasticism is the nervous system of the body of Christ: A network of cells, flowing upwards and inwards, towards that central point of contact with the Brain, convulsing with electric impulses which are the first physical traces of another level of consciousness.
Declaration of Peace
During the past week I was fortunate to land a job shooting and editing some short (2-4 minute) documentary videos for the Declaration of Peace, a coalition of various organizations who planned a week of events to vocally oppose the US military campaign in Iraq. Here are four of the videos I made from the week; (please pardon the grainy/dull results of compressing the videos into a size that would be small enough to upload onto YouTube's servers):
Philadelphia, September 25th:
Press Conference at the White House (Kelly Dougherty), September 21st:
The Capitol, September 26th:
Interfaith Rally at the Capitol, September 26th:
If you're interested, you can find more videos on the YouTube channel we created. Oh and here's some press coverage from the Washington Post.
Philadelphia, September 25th:
Press Conference at the White House (Kelly Dougherty), September 21st:
The Capitol, September 26th:
Interfaith Rally at the Capitol, September 26th:
If you're interested, you can find more videos on the YouTube channel we created. Oh and here's some press coverage from the Washington Post.
“ ”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer says:
"Let him who cannot be alone beware of community... Let him who is not in community beware of being alone."
"Let him who cannot be alone beware of community... Let him who is not in community beware of being alone."
Sex and the city and the mob and the mall
"One of the causes of the downfall of Rome was that people, being fed by the state...ceased to have any responsibility for themselves or their children, and consequently became a nation of wasters. They frequented circuses, where paid performers appeared before them in the arena, much as we see the crowds now flocking to look on at paid players playing football...Thousands of boys and young men, pale, narrow-chested, hunched-up, miserable specimens, smoking endless cigarettes, numbers of them betting, all of them learning to be hysterical as they groan and cheer in panic unison with their neighbors--the worst sound of all being the hysterical scream of laughter that greets any little trip or fall of a player."
(R. Baden-Powell from Scouting for Boys, as quoted in Among the Thugs by Bill Buford)
The self-engrossed life of pure, stimulation-craving consumption seems to be the booby-trap along western culture's several hundred year path from radical social hierarchy to radical social individualism.
We commitment-phobic 20-somethings wander from place to place, looking for the next psychological fix. It may be a stage-show of immense pathos, an adrenaline-fueled splurge on a luxury that dangles just outside our means, an erotically-tinged connection with a world of fantasy and/or celebrity, some shade of numbed physical intoxication, or (as explored in Among the Thugs) a hypnotizing orgy of violence. In all cases, as in the Coliseum, sensational, engrossing, exciting, high-gloss, heart-racing entertainment is the prize and the cold, gray, mundane dungeon of boredom and obligation is the most frightening possibility for existence.
(R. Baden-Powell from Scouting for Boys, as quoted in Among the Thugs by Bill Buford)
The self-engrossed life of pure, stimulation-craving consumption seems to be the booby-trap along western culture's several hundred year path from radical social hierarchy to radical social individualism.
We commitment-phobic 20-somethings wander from place to place, looking for the next psychological fix. It may be a stage-show of immense pathos, an adrenaline-fueled splurge on a luxury that dangles just outside our means, an erotically-tinged connection with a world of fantasy and/or celebrity, some shade of numbed physical intoxication, or (as explored in Among the Thugs) a hypnotizing orgy of violence. In all cases, as in the Coliseum, sensational, engrossing, exciting, high-gloss, heart-racing entertainment is the prize and the cold, gray, mundane dungeon of boredom and obligation is the most frightening possibility for existence.
“ ”
The Buddhist master says:
"If you eat the moment you are hungry, you will never find out what your hunger is for."
"If you eat the moment you are hungry, you will never find out what your hunger is for."
An apocalyptic way to spend ten minutes
1. Download the following two songs by Woven Hand:
Sparrow falls and Bleary eyed duty
2. Once you've got them downloaded (it may take a few minutes), start them playing (preferably on headphones) and read the Wikipedia entry on the life of Keith Green.
Sparrow falls and Bleary eyed duty
2. Once you've got them downloaded (it may take a few minutes), start them playing (preferably on headphones) and read the Wikipedia entry on the life of Keith Green.
“ ”
Stephanie Coontz says:
"The beginning of the nineteenth century, however, saw a new emphasis on women's innate sexual purity. The older view that women had to be controlled because they were inherently more passionate and prone to moral and sexual error was replaced by the idea that women were asexual beings, who would not respond to sexual overtures unless they had been drugged or depraved from an early age. This cult of female purity encouraged women to internalize limits on their sexual behavior that sixteenth and seventeenth century authorities had imposed by force."
(from "Marriage, a history").
"The beginning of the nineteenth century, however, saw a new emphasis on women's innate sexual purity. The older view that women had to be controlled because they were inherently more passionate and prone to moral and sexual error was replaced by the idea that women were asexual beings, who would not respond to sexual overtures unless they had been drugged or depraved from an early age. This cult of female purity encouraged women to internalize limits on their sexual behavior that sixteenth and seventeenth century authorities had imposed by force."
(from "Marriage, a history").
As i scour the internet for reasonable air fare
Last night my mother gave me a fortune cookie for dessert. I was to find the following fragment of destiny within:
“ ”
Thomas à Kempis says:
"Blessed is that simplicity that leaves the way of hard questions and goes in the plain and certain way of the commandments of God."
"Blessed is that simplicity that leaves the way of hard questions and goes in the plain and certain way of the commandments of God."
What ever happened to tolerance?
Here is a thought-provoking article by Hanif Kureishi, published in the UK’s Guardian, in which he makes the case that our idea of tolerance must be more robust, a real exchange of ideas, not just a festival of food. I like how he constructs the relationships between issues that are on my mind--liberalism and fundamentalism, idealism and practicality, race and “the other.” Here’s a good summation of how some of these ideas fit together in his mind:
“I believed that questions of race, identity and culture were the major issues post-colonial Europe had to face, and that inter-generational conflict was where these conflicts were being played out.”
This sentence got me excited, particularly the part about inter-generational conflict.
From what we learn in his article, Kureishi’s personal beliefs about God could run the gamut from humanism to atheism. In any case, he seems to doubt an individual’s access to God via faith. Like the Christian, who’s ultimate goal in a pluralistic society is to convince everyone else to pursue relationship with the Living God, Kureishi’s ultimate goal of in this exchange of ideas must necessarily be the dilution of religious ideals to the degree that they become indistinct from general humanistic ideals. The underlying Nietzchean belief found here is that religion is valid (is nice) insofar as it is a vehicle for the progress of mankind. Religion is undeniably useful as catalyst for culture, for self-discipline and belief about the world. Religion galvanizes humans together. But the prospect of human myths about the personal-ness or designed-ness of the universe actually being true? That’s ridiculous.
In an even more direct statement of the goals of materialism, we have Dan Dennett, a philosopher and writer, who touches on his ideal version of society while giving a talk on the nonsense of looking for a designed purpose in life.
To me, these two thinkers embody an important discourse that is going on right now in America and Europe: Beyond the topic itself (of the truth or falsity of God), both authors are taking a stance regarding the question of whether or not tolerance is a valid way for people in disagreement to relate to each other.
Maybe tolerance is a continuum: On one end is outright bloodshed among warring cultures and nations, on the other end is an over-saturation of pluralistic subjectivity in which no one believes in anything but tolerance.
As I look around the world, I see what appears to be a growing animosity between Islamic fundamentalists and European materialists, a widening rift between American liberals and the Religious Right. My speculation is that the mode for the exchange of ideas seems to be trending towards the war end of the exchange spectrum.
If politics do indeed progress in this direction, it would mean resolution for the giant experiment in tolerance that America represents to many people. Perhaps more than any other particular country, America has been attempting to gather mostly non-violent consensus from a rather diverse group of citizens ever since it was pre-born in the 1600s, and an even more diverse group as time has progressed.
As battle lines get drawn, I’m not sure if in 20 years there will be many people around who are seeking a delicate balance of holding firmly to their beliefs on one hand as well as genuine tolerance, even love, for their neighbors on the other.
(Philosophically speaking, this experimentation with tolerance could be described as the human struggle to come to terms with the paradox that explains both the limits of our individual subjectivity as well as our essential need to connect to objectivity.)
“I believed that questions of race, identity and culture were the major issues post-colonial Europe had to face, and that inter-generational conflict was where these conflicts were being played out.”
This sentence got me excited, particularly the part about inter-generational conflict.
From what we learn in his article, Kureishi’s personal beliefs about God could run the gamut from humanism to atheism. In any case, he seems to doubt an individual’s access to God via faith. Like the Christian, who’s ultimate goal in a pluralistic society is to convince everyone else to pursue relationship with the Living God, Kureishi’s ultimate goal of in this exchange of ideas must necessarily be the dilution of religious ideals to the degree that they become indistinct from general humanistic ideals. The underlying Nietzchean belief found here is that religion is valid (is nice) insofar as it is a vehicle for the progress of mankind. Religion is undeniably useful as catalyst for culture, for self-discipline and belief about the world. Religion galvanizes humans together. But the prospect of human myths about the personal-ness or designed-ness of the universe actually being true? That’s ridiculous.
In an even more direct statement of the goals of materialism, we have Dan Dennett, a philosopher and writer, who touches on his ideal version of society while giving a talk on the nonsense of looking for a designed purpose in life.
To me, these two thinkers embody an important discourse that is going on right now in America and Europe: Beyond the topic itself (of the truth or falsity of God), both authors are taking a stance regarding the question of whether or not tolerance is a valid way for people in disagreement to relate to each other.
Maybe tolerance is a continuum: On one end is outright bloodshed among warring cultures and nations, on the other end is an over-saturation of pluralistic subjectivity in which no one believes in anything but tolerance.
As I look around the world, I see what appears to be a growing animosity between Islamic fundamentalists and European materialists, a widening rift between American liberals and the Religious Right. My speculation is that the mode for the exchange of ideas seems to be trending towards the war end of the exchange spectrum.
If politics do indeed progress in this direction, it would mean resolution for the giant experiment in tolerance that America represents to many people. Perhaps more than any other particular country, America has been attempting to gather mostly non-violent consensus from a rather diverse group of citizens ever since it was pre-born in the 1600s, and an even more diverse group as time has progressed.
As battle lines get drawn, I’m not sure if in 20 years there will be many people around who are seeking a delicate balance of holding firmly to their beliefs on one hand as well as genuine tolerance, even love, for their neighbors on the other.
(Philosophically speaking, this experimentation with tolerance could be described as the human struggle to come to terms with the paradox that explains both the limits of our individual subjectivity as well as our essential need to connect to objectivity.)
Gymnopedia, to be performed at least three times a day
This is a self-portrait of Erik Satie, the original bohemian.
The text reads (translated from French):
"Project for a bust of Mr. Erik Satie (painted by the same), with a thought: 'I came into the world very young, in an age that was very old'"
Part two in a two-part series
What if the advent of liberalism is not really the cause of the red state/blue state American culture war? What if American liberalism was adopted as a newer form of traditional conservative co-optation, a way for white people to attempt to deal with their cultural self-loathing by escaping from their own criticism?
Some things to consider: The Western, white, male perspective is the implicit target of Deconstructionist criticism. But most foundational Postmodern critics and many (not all) humanities professors are still white and a significant percentage of them male. President Bush is constructed to be the arrogant, ignorant, white, supreme-arch-nemesis of all that is Liberal. But most Democrats and almost all Democratic political candidates share more similarity than difference with Bush, being usually white, male, and middle-to-upper class.
Long before anyone mainstream in America cared about identity politics, white kids had been having this long-term love affair with black culture, a history that includes the co-option of Jazz and Blues, Elvis, and Johnny Cash, among others. Functionally for white people, it may be that the hippie movement predates any concern with identity politics. Look at photos from Woodstock and commune experiments: These weren't angry, marginalized minorities, they were recently straight-laced white kids that had a problem with the culture of their parents on a number of levels.
Then, after all of our parents returned to mainstream culture after their short-lived hippie vacation, they became the "oppressive authoritarians" and our generation developed its own reactionary culture (though it happens to be pretty mainstream itself ever since capitalism figured out that “alternative” is a market too).
Here we are in 2006 and conservative kids have two options: Stay in the conservative fold or seize your moment to run into the arms of The Other. Because it’s still just as hip to be un-white, to be anti-consumer, to read Marx, to listen to M.I.A., to wear dreadlocks or something, to dive into these things at least during a phase in life. Even the significant portion of college-age kids who stay conservative still dance to Jamaican dancehall on the weekends and blast Outkast on their iPods. It's almost entirely unavoidable: Co-optation of "the other" (esp. black culture) is nothing less than a coming-of-age ritual in our country for every generation since slavery ended (and perhaps before). (See this page of a related interview with John McWhorter that Davis brought to my attention).
Moving closer to home, the Christian microcosm of all this is conservative Evangelical kids who react against their parents by becoming liberal (or libertarian) Christians and getting involved in social justice and multiculturalism and international aid, trying to read and apply a wider section of their Bibles, if only because it was the opposite of the preceeding generation’s user-friendly prosperity gospel. And when reading the red letters, they saw that it said community was important, that poor people matter, and, like, something about Feminism.
I admit that I fit in somewhere along these lines: I question authority. I have been known to rage against the machine. And I generally think I'm right.
But putting the rightness or wrongness of liberalism (or Liberation theology) to the side, the important, self-analytical question that I am asking myself right now is about the origin of my embrace of it: I'm concerned that the core of this for me may be significantly reactive in nature. Not every Christian who cares about social issues was introduced to those issues reactively (some had liberal parents, of course), but it seems undeniable to me that many were introduced in this way, many more will be, and even the most authentically liberal Christians are powered by at least a strain of reactionary belief.
So while I am personally committed to thinking outside of “the box” and especially inside the gospels, I think it’s pretty important for myself and every Christian who finds their identity anywhere near the category of the “alternative" to consider the specific origins of their personal party platforms.
Being reactively-motivated is not something you or I should take lightly: At the very least can easily render anyone self-righteously asinine and likely to sell out. But it’s ultimate threat to white, American Christians is that it will put pride, generational issues, and our ever-present white identity crises before the gospel in our hearts and actions.
I hope that Jesus’ core values continue to permeate my life and those of my fellow Christians. (As a matter of fact, I hope His values permeate everyone's lives). I hope that they outlive and erode mere reactionary sentiment. If they do, I am confident that self-loathing will necessarily be dissipated and the passing on of culture between generations will start to become more harmonious, a process of growth rather than one that is cyclically dissonant.
Some things to consider: The Western, white, male perspective is the implicit target of Deconstructionist criticism. But most foundational Postmodern critics and many (not all) humanities professors are still white and a significant percentage of them male. President Bush is constructed to be the arrogant, ignorant, white, supreme-arch-nemesis of all that is Liberal. But most Democrats and almost all Democratic political candidates share more similarity than difference with Bush, being usually white, male, and middle-to-upper class.
Long before anyone mainstream in America cared about identity politics, white kids had been having this long-term love affair with black culture, a history that includes the co-option of Jazz and Blues, Elvis, and Johnny Cash, among others. Functionally for white people, it may be that the hippie movement predates any concern with identity politics. Look at photos from Woodstock and commune experiments: These weren't angry, marginalized minorities, they were recently straight-laced white kids that had a problem with the culture of their parents on a number of levels.
Then, after all of our parents returned to mainstream culture after their short-lived hippie vacation, they became the "oppressive authoritarians" and our generation developed its own reactionary culture (though it happens to be pretty mainstream itself ever since capitalism figured out that “alternative” is a market too).
Here we are in 2006 and conservative kids have two options: Stay in the conservative fold or seize your moment to run into the arms of The Other. Because it’s still just as hip to be un-white, to be anti-consumer, to read Marx, to listen to M.I.A., to wear dreadlocks or something, to dive into these things at least during a phase in life. Even the significant portion of college-age kids who stay conservative still dance to Jamaican dancehall on the weekends and blast Outkast on their iPods. It's almost entirely unavoidable: Co-optation of "the other" (esp. black culture) is nothing less than a coming-of-age ritual in our country for every generation since slavery ended (and perhaps before). (See this page of a related interview with John McWhorter that Davis brought to my attention).
Moving closer to home, the Christian microcosm of all this is conservative Evangelical kids who react against their parents by becoming liberal (or libertarian) Christians and getting involved in social justice and multiculturalism and international aid, trying to read and apply a wider section of their Bibles, if only because it was the opposite of the preceeding generation’s user-friendly prosperity gospel. And when reading the red letters, they saw that it said community was important, that poor people matter, and, like, something about Feminism.
I admit that I fit in somewhere along these lines: I question authority. I have been known to rage against the machine. And I generally think I'm right.
But putting the rightness or wrongness of liberalism (or Liberation theology) to the side, the important, self-analytical question that I am asking myself right now is about the origin of my embrace of it: I'm concerned that the core of this for me may be significantly reactive in nature. Not every Christian who cares about social issues was introduced to those issues reactively (some had liberal parents, of course), but it seems undeniable to me that many were introduced in this way, many more will be, and even the most authentically liberal Christians are powered by at least a strain of reactionary belief.
So while I am personally committed to thinking outside of “the box” and especially inside the gospels, I think it’s pretty important for myself and every Christian who finds their identity anywhere near the category of the “alternative" to consider the specific origins of their personal party platforms.
Being reactively-motivated is not something you or I should take lightly: At the very least can easily render anyone self-righteously asinine and likely to sell out. But it’s ultimate threat to white, American Christians is that it will put pride, generational issues, and our ever-present white identity crises before the gospel in our hearts and actions.
I hope that Jesus’ core values continue to permeate my life and those of my fellow Christians. (As a matter of fact, I hope His values permeate everyone's lives). I hope that they outlive and erode mere reactionary sentiment. If they do, I am confident that self-loathing will necessarily be dissipated and the passing on of culture between generations will start to become more harmonious, a process of growth rather than one that is cyclically dissonant.
John Perkins and my DSC-P72
Genre photos! Media cliches! They're all around us! Have you noticed? This month it seems that every time I turn around I am assaulted by photo sets of empathetically-(tearfully?)-smiling Christian white kids surrounded by a small crowd of black street urchins (who they appear to have just befriended).
What are the photos saying about us?
If the digital point-and-shoot camera is apt to become the poor man's creativity crutch, the digital SLR can easily become the rich man's "Art" crutch. But neither device is merely for art, it also has the potential for documentary, which gives it street cred and accessibility. And relevance!
Who is this strange beast, the Christian Day-Tripper? He/she parades around the (third) world, building little cinderblock houses and capturing an obscene number of confused little black children inside of a camera, eventually returning home to broadcast this evidence of association across all forms of digital image technology in order to share the experience of their poverty in some small way. In some small way indeed, since we viewers are not really capable of experiencing their poverty at all. For that matter, are we really even capable of experiencing “the other half” when we travel abroad for a week, a month, a year?
The likely, terrifying possibility is that there may be a whole lot of personal pleasure getting mixed in to something that was supposed to be service. Who’s really getting served? Might it be the one who stops in to visit, who documents their association with the poor, and who steps off the plane on the return to their comfortable hometown deafened by a moral fanfare?
I’ve never been on a real mission trip, but the only thing I ever hear is “Well, you know, I gave up so much to do this, but in return I received far more than I gave.” Well maybe this is actually true, maybe we Christians are actually receiving more than we're giving. Maybe our mission trips are really gathering trips. Maybe we are really stealing from the poor a second time over, this time of the authenticity implied by the poverty we imparted to them.
I've got a hypothesis about the commodity, the new treasure that we’re digitally mining out of the third world: It’s that new, post-modern, coveted value known as “The Grime Factor.” Just as fashion has progressed from plastic-slick, technology-fetish costumes of the 80s into faux-ripped Abercrombie & Fitch authenticity, the rest of our interests are quickly growing tired of that ever-present, oh-so-commonplace polished, industrial gloss. Enough opaquely computerized keyboard bleeps, give me real drum kits floating in a sea of gentle vinyl pops! Better yet, go ahead and resample old soul records on that new Kanyeyed Peas track—-oops, I mean "record": The sampling's worth at least two points, since vomiting up black music from the 70s exploits “the other” twice over: The second time blaxploitation rolls around we'll call it vintage. And OMG, second-hand shops are so funky-fresh! Forget the orgasmically-minimal international style, we want classic lofts, you know, renovated stone fronts that scream “this building has character!” After all, for all we know poor black folks probably lived in this very building this at some point!
Let's be honest with ourselves: We’re apathetic, alienated, disaffected, over-disinfected rich people, alternately bored of and devastated by the world we've created for ourselves, seeking to associate with another world. We’re bustling around on our kitchen linoleum, which by the way seems to be starting to wear. We’re making calls and placing ads, trying to get rid of the old Mies van der Rohe dining set as quick as possible because the fact that it is horrendously sterile-looking just dawned on us. Unfortunately we just can’t find anything to replace it with, so milking culture from the tiny, chafed teats of the poor man that we keep in a cage in the garage will have to do for now. Better yet, maybe we can find an old loft in to move into, along with the new-vintage couch.
Why should we delude ourselves about the good we're doing on our short-term missions projects? Why should we stroke our overworked little social consciences like this? If we think about it, we may find that we are actually, literally benefiting from our "third-world encounters."
So rather then deny this fact, why don't we start applying Christian ethics to this situation:
In the best-case scenario, we’re taking because we perceive that we are in need. Which is fine for us to admit. But if this is the case, the first thing we should do is to admit this to the people we’re taking from:
“You have something I need: Perhaps it’s spiritual vitality, perhaps it’s a breath of fresh air outside of our pleasantly-stifling sphere of consumption, perhaps it’s a stimulus for deeply-rooted nostalgia about the wholesomely simple pleasures of our agricultural past (we’ll just gloss over those nauseatingly fixed cultural roles that it was built on for now). Let’s trade: I’ll try my best to re-distribute my amassed wealth and privilege, hopefully lessening my drain on the earth’s resources and people I am oppressing, like you. In return you give me a day-to-day life that has more space, is more sane, is less drunk on the quickly souring Kool-aid of industrial progress.”
Absurd? Yes, indeed! but at least it's a start at moving away from the condescension to the “third-world” that is necessitated by the lie that we’re primarily selfless in our efforts. The most significant thing your average youth group short-term missionary is offering the "third world" is the commodification of poor folks’ way of life as an accessory to wealth, as a bullet point alongside a six-figure future income.
In the best-possible-case scenario, we might even find that in attempting to re-access real authenticity and humility, we actually are able to offer our poorer neighbors some resources of value.
And as hesitant as I am to admit it, perhaps short-term missions have a value, perhaps it makes some backwards ethical sense to spoon-feed digital deaths and pre-packaged, frozen, third-world moments to the rich in order to finance this blunt, systematic exchange of resources.
It’s fine if mission trips do have a value, but first, at the very least, it is time to admit that the value is not only passing from the rich man to the poor man, but also vice versa.
What are the photos saying about us?
If the digital point-and-shoot camera is apt to become the poor man's creativity crutch, the digital SLR can easily become the rich man's "Art" crutch. But neither device is merely for art, it also has the potential for documentary, which gives it street cred and accessibility. And relevance!
Who is this strange beast, the Christian Day-Tripper? He/she parades around the (third) world, building little cinderblock houses and capturing an obscene number of confused little black children inside of a camera, eventually returning home to broadcast this evidence of association across all forms of digital image technology in order to share the experience of their poverty in some small way. In some small way indeed, since we viewers are not really capable of experiencing their poverty at all. For that matter, are we really even capable of experiencing “the other half” when we travel abroad for a week, a month, a year?
The likely, terrifying possibility is that there may be a whole lot of personal pleasure getting mixed in to something that was supposed to be service. Who’s really getting served? Might it be the one who stops in to visit, who documents their association with the poor, and who steps off the plane on the return to their comfortable hometown deafened by a moral fanfare?
I’ve never been on a real mission trip, but the only thing I ever hear is “Well, you know, I gave up so much to do this, but in return I received far more than I gave.” Well maybe this is actually true, maybe we Christians are actually receiving more than we're giving. Maybe our mission trips are really gathering trips. Maybe we are really stealing from the poor a second time over, this time of the authenticity implied by the poverty we imparted to them.
I've got a hypothesis about the commodity, the new treasure that we’re digitally mining out of the third world: It’s that new, post-modern, coveted value known as “The Grime Factor.” Just as fashion has progressed from plastic-slick, technology-fetish costumes of the 80s into faux-ripped Abercrombie & Fitch authenticity, the rest of our interests are quickly growing tired of that ever-present, oh-so-commonplace polished, industrial gloss. Enough opaquely computerized keyboard bleeps, give me real drum kits floating in a sea of gentle vinyl pops! Better yet, go ahead and resample old soul records on that new Kanyeyed Peas track—-oops, I mean "record": The sampling's worth at least two points, since vomiting up black music from the 70s exploits “the other” twice over: The second time blaxploitation rolls around we'll call it vintage. And OMG, second-hand shops are so funky-fresh! Forget the orgasmically-minimal international style, we want classic lofts, you know, renovated stone fronts that scream “this building has character!” After all, for all we know poor black folks probably lived in this very building this at some point!
Let's be honest with ourselves: We’re apathetic, alienated, disaffected, over-disinfected rich people, alternately bored of and devastated by the world we've created for ourselves, seeking to associate with another world. We’re bustling around on our kitchen linoleum, which by the way seems to be starting to wear. We’re making calls and placing ads, trying to get rid of the old Mies van der Rohe dining set as quick as possible because the fact that it is horrendously sterile-looking just dawned on us. Unfortunately we just can’t find anything to replace it with, so milking culture from the tiny, chafed teats of the poor man that we keep in a cage in the garage will have to do for now. Better yet, maybe we can find an old loft in to move into, along with the new-vintage couch.
Why should we delude ourselves about the good we're doing on our short-term missions projects? Why should we stroke our overworked little social consciences like this? If we think about it, we may find that we are actually, literally benefiting from our "third-world encounters."
So rather then deny this fact, why don't we start applying Christian ethics to this situation:
In the best-case scenario, we’re taking because we perceive that we are in need. Which is fine for us to admit. But if this is the case, the first thing we should do is to admit this to the people we’re taking from:
“You have something I need: Perhaps it’s spiritual vitality, perhaps it’s a breath of fresh air outside of our pleasantly-stifling sphere of consumption, perhaps it’s a stimulus for deeply-rooted nostalgia about the wholesomely simple pleasures of our agricultural past (we’ll just gloss over those nauseatingly fixed cultural roles that it was built on for now). Let’s trade: I’ll try my best to re-distribute my amassed wealth and privilege, hopefully lessening my drain on the earth’s resources and people I am oppressing, like you. In return you give me a day-to-day life that has more space, is more sane, is less drunk on the quickly souring Kool-aid of industrial progress.”
Absurd? Yes, indeed! but at least it's a start at moving away from the condescension to the “third-world” that is necessitated by the lie that we’re primarily selfless in our efforts. The most significant thing your average youth group short-term missionary is offering the "third world" is the commodification of poor folks’ way of life as an accessory to wealth, as a bullet point alongside a six-figure future income.
In the best-possible-case scenario, we might even find that in attempting to re-access real authenticity and humility, we actually are able to offer our poorer neighbors some resources of value.
And as hesitant as I am to admit it, perhaps short-term missions have a value, perhaps it makes some backwards ethical sense to spoon-feed digital deaths and pre-packaged, frozen, third-world moments to the rich in order to finance this blunt, systematic exchange of resources.
It’s fine if mission trips do have a value, but first, at the very least, it is time to admit that the value is not only passing from the rich man to the poor man, but also vice versa.
And so it was, whenever the spirit from God was upon Saul, that David would take a harp and play it with his hand. Then Saul would become refreshed and well, and the distressing spirit would depart from him.
The Fog of War is a very timely exploration of rationality: of its potential to solve our problems and of its limits.
On paper, it is a dry, political interview documentary. On screen, it is an engaging, aesthetically hypnotizing, quick-witted chase through the last 50 years of American military engagement.
The documentary is timely in that it seems obvious that the specific rationalistic, materialistic suite of problem-solving techniques that we inherited from Plato, honed through the industrial revolution, and which is appropriately and compellingly embodied in the personal character of Robert McNamara, saturates the minds of the power-players and the policy-makers in America today.
As the film calls into question the ruling philosophy of our country, it simultaneously exists as a rather experiential take on exploration itself. It’s not a book, after all, but a film, and it makes its points by subtle suggestion and provocative juxtapositions. In this sense, it is a distinctly post-modern comment on the state of our country and world; and there could be no more fitting subject to this visual essay than the very worldwide social disasters that are said to have engendered so much bitter criticism of Modernism’s blind optimism.
But to take it a step further, combining Meyers-Briggs vocabulary with the Feminist jab that violent routines of death and destruction are the result of a political world controlled almost entirely by men, we might interpret Robert McNamara’s 20-20 hindsight lessons as an backhanded admission from one of the most stalwart, coldly-rational, “walking IBM computer” (T) individuals around that perhaps our current political leaders are badly in need of some relational-minded (F) input to help America avoid situations where we find ourselves annihilating 200,000 Japanese civilians in a single stroke or (more commonly) sacrificing innocent lives abroad in the name of our own economic interest.
On paper, it is a dry, political interview documentary. On screen, it is an engaging, aesthetically hypnotizing, quick-witted chase through the last 50 years of American military engagement.
The documentary is timely in that it seems obvious that the specific rationalistic, materialistic suite of problem-solving techniques that we inherited from Plato, honed through the industrial revolution, and which is appropriately and compellingly embodied in the personal character of Robert McNamara, saturates the minds of the power-players and the policy-makers in America today.
As the film calls into question the ruling philosophy of our country, it simultaneously exists as a rather experiential take on exploration itself. It’s not a book, after all, but a film, and it makes its points by subtle suggestion and provocative juxtapositions. In this sense, it is a distinctly post-modern comment on the state of our country and world; and there could be no more fitting subject to this visual essay than the very worldwide social disasters that are said to have engendered so much bitter criticism of Modernism’s blind optimism.
But to take it a step further, combining Meyers-Briggs vocabulary with the Feminist jab that violent routines of death and destruction are the result of a political world controlled almost entirely by men, we might interpret Robert McNamara’s 20-20 hindsight lessons as an backhanded admission from one of the most stalwart, coldly-rational, “walking IBM computer” (T) individuals around that perhaps our current political leaders are badly in need of some relational-minded (F) input to help America avoid situations where we find ourselves annihilating 200,000 Japanese civilians in a single stroke or (more commonly) sacrificing innocent lives abroad in the name of our own economic interest.
A wet blanket
Here's a few related passages from the last chapter of Thomas Merton's autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain. Most of this chapter is about monastic life. These three excerpts are on the theme of moodiness and how it affects others:
"'Each one of you,' the Father Abbot said, 'will make the community either better or worse. Everything you do will have an influence upon others. It can be a good influence or a bad one. It all depends on you. Our Lord will never refuse you grace...'"
"It can be said, as a general rule, that the greatest saints are seldom the ones whose piety is most evident in their expression when they are kneeling at prayer, and the holiest men in a monastery are almost never the ones who get that exalted look, on feast days, in the choir. The people who gaze up at Our Lady's statue with glistening eyes are very often the ones with the worst tempers."
"[Simple, easily-contented monks] stood at the mean between two extremes. On one hand there were one or two who exagerated everything they did and tried to carry out every rule with scrupulousness that was a travesty of the real thing. They were the ones who seemed to be trying to make themselves saints by sheer effort and concentration--as if the work depended on them, and not even God could help them. But then there were also the ones who did little or nothing to sanctify themselves, as if none of the work depended on them--as if God would come along one day and put a halo on their heads and it would all be over. They followed the others and kept the Rule after a fashion, but as soon as they thought they were sick they started pleading for all the mitigations that they did not already have. And the rest of the time, they fluctuated between a gaity that was noisy and disquieting, and a sullen exasperation that threw a wet blanket over the whole novitiate."
"'Each one of you,' the Father Abbot said, 'will make the community either better or worse. Everything you do will have an influence upon others. It can be a good influence or a bad one. It all depends on you. Our Lord will never refuse you grace...'"
"It can be said, as a general rule, that the greatest saints are seldom the ones whose piety is most evident in their expression when they are kneeling at prayer, and the holiest men in a monastery are almost never the ones who get that exalted look, on feast days, in the choir. The people who gaze up at Our Lady's statue with glistening eyes are very often the ones with the worst tempers."
"[Simple, easily-contented monks] stood at the mean between two extremes. On one hand there were one or two who exagerated everything they did and tried to carry out every rule with scrupulousness that was a travesty of the real thing. They were the ones who seemed to be trying to make themselves saints by sheer effort and concentration--as if the work depended on them, and not even God could help them. But then there were also the ones who did little or nothing to sanctify themselves, as if none of the work depended on them--as if God would come along one day and put a halo on their heads and it would all be over. They followed the others and kept the Rule after a fashion, but as soon as they thought they were sick they started pleading for all the mitigations that they did not already have. And the rest of the time, they fluctuated between a gaity that was noisy and disquieting, and a sullen exasperation that threw a wet blanket over the whole novitiate."
That troublesome dichotemy
An excerpt from "Sexual Attraction: The Magic Formula":
"Women’s preferences for certain male scents and other male features change over their cycle. Near ovulation, they prefer masculine traits; at other phases of their cycle they prefer less sexiness and more stability."
Tonight I watched "Match Point," Woody Allen's new film. It is certainly a departure from his characteristic style, but definitely worth watching and thinking about. I found that some of the sexual relationships in the film resonated a bit with the comment above (from the full article that I read earlier today--thanks, Linshuang). Most of the film revolves around Chris' inner conflict between the seductive magnetism of Nola (played by Scarlett Johansson) and the "sweetness," niceness and stability of Chloe (played by some other actress), as well as the resources Chloe's family provides him. In the film, this distinction explains the difference between passionate love-making with Nola, who becomes Chris' mistress-muse, and machinistic attempts at producing a child with Chloe, his wife. Here are a couple fragments of dialogue in the film that shed some light on the "sexy" end of the dichotemy.
The first is an exchange between Chloe, Tom's sister, and Eleanor, Tom's mother, in which Eleanor attempts to use Tom's current (and ultimately short-lived) relationship with Nola in order to caution her daughter:
ELEANOR "Be careful. Tom's involved with a woman I have reservations about. Don't rush off."
CHLOE "Tom's happy with Nola! You're prejudiced because she's American."
ELEANOR "She's spoiled. And tempermental."
CHLOE "She's an actress! They're emotional!"
ELEANOR "She's deluding herself. And she's moody--she's not right for Tom."
Later on, Nola speaks with an admiring Chris:
NOLA "You should see my sister, she's very beautiful. But she's lost...drugs...and..."
CHRIS "I'm sure she's not more beautiful than you are."
NOLA "No, what I am is sexy. Linda--my sister--is classically beautiful..."
CHRIS "So you are aware of your affect on men."
And finally this, the same dichotemy restated in a line from a somewhat Feminist film critique of the film:
"So [Allen] grafts an eleventh-hour murder plot onto Match Point, a narrative twist anchored by the fallacious assumption that every woman on Earth is either an alluring cocktease or a needy shrew."
Or in this case, both, since Nola makes a surprisingly quick transition from "cocktease" to "needy shrew" as she becomes controlled by the conditions of her affair with Chris. In this sense she yields much less power as a femme fatale than she might have, had she remained an inaccessible fantasy to Chris or used her seductiveness on him in a more effectively controlling way.
Or neither, since Chloe is remarkably un-needy. However she is extremely stable, which bores Chris for most of the film, until he realizes how comfortable stability can be and how much of a pain in the ass sexiness can be.
Regardless, to return to the first quote, the core issue for me here is the pure irony of two attractiveness criteria, sexiness and stability, which seem essentially and irreconcilably at odds (for both men and women): Isn't it true that stability is necessarily practical and sexiness is by definition impractical, and that we all want them both?
This dilemma is alternately funny and frustrating. Woody Allen, always the pessimist, poignantly reminds us of the all-too-common tragedy of those who, asphixiated by their own selfish idealism, refuse to give up either passion or practicality and instead try to invent hackneyed schemes where both can be maintained at once. However, obnoxious infidelities aside, the dilemma stands.
"Women’s preferences for certain male scents and other male features change over their cycle. Near ovulation, they prefer masculine traits; at other phases of their cycle they prefer less sexiness and more stability."
Tonight I watched "Match Point," Woody Allen's new film. It is certainly a departure from his characteristic style, but definitely worth watching and thinking about. I found that some of the sexual relationships in the film resonated a bit with the comment above (from the full article that I read earlier today--thanks, Linshuang). Most of the film revolves around Chris' inner conflict between the seductive magnetism of Nola (played by Scarlett Johansson) and the "sweetness," niceness and stability of Chloe (played by some other actress), as well as the resources Chloe's family provides him. In the film, this distinction explains the difference between passionate love-making with Nola, who becomes Chris' mistress-muse, and machinistic attempts at producing a child with Chloe, his wife. Here are a couple fragments of dialogue in the film that shed some light on the "sexy" end of the dichotemy.
The first is an exchange between Chloe, Tom's sister, and Eleanor, Tom's mother, in which Eleanor attempts to use Tom's current (and ultimately short-lived) relationship with Nola in order to caution her daughter:
ELEANOR "Be careful. Tom's involved with a woman I have reservations about. Don't rush off."
CHLOE "Tom's happy with Nola! You're prejudiced because she's American."
ELEANOR "She's spoiled. And tempermental."
CHLOE "She's an actress! They're emotional!"
ELEANOR "She's deluding herself. And she's moody--she's not right for Tom."
Later on, Nola speaks with an admiring Chris:
NOLA "You should see my sister, she's very beautiful. But she's lost...drugs...and..."
CHRIS "I'm sure she's not more beautiful than you are."
NOLA "No, what I am is sexy. Linda--my sister--is classically beautiful..."
CHRIS "So you are aware of your affect on men."
And finally this, the same dichotemy restated in a line from a somewhat Feminist film critique of the film:
"So [Allen] grafts an eleventh-hour murder plot onto Match Point, a narrative twist anchored by the fallacious assumption that every woman on Earth is either an alluring cocktease or a needy shrew."
Or in this case, both, since Nola makes a surprisingly quick transition from "cocktease" to "needy shrew" as she becomes controlled by the conditions of her affair with Chris. In this sense she yields much less power as a femme fatale than she might have, had she remained an inaccessible fantasy to Chris or used her seductiveness on him in a more effectively controlling way.
Or neither, since Chloe is remarkably un-needy. However she is extremely stable, which bores Chris for most of the film, until he realizes how comfortable stability can be and how much of a pain in the ass sexiness can be.
Regardless, to return to the first quote, the core issue for me here is the pure irony of two attractiveness criteria, sexiness and stability, which seem essentially and irreconcilably at odds (for both men and women): Isn't it true that stability is necessarily practical and sexiness is by definition impractical, and that we all want them both?
This dilemma is alternately funny and frustrating. Woody Allen, always the pessimist, poignantly reminds us of the all-too-common tragedy of those who, asphixiated by their own selfish idealism, refuse to give up either passion or practicality and instead try to invent hackneyed schemes where both can be maintained at once. However, obnoxious infidelities aside, the dilemma stands.
Bakerman
Danish pop duo Laid Back, better known for their 1983 electro-funk classic "White Horse" (a track Prince is said to have called a favorite), here perform their 90s hit "Bakerman" in mid air. This exquisite music video, ultimately more popular than the song itself, was conceived and directed by Lars von Trier, a fellow Dane and an internationally recognized film director.
I really wanted you to see this video, which is why I made the effort to downloaded it from a bit-torrent client, register for an account with YouTube, then upload it onto their servers. So please enjoy it.
To witness yet another stratospheric musical spectacle, see Dayvan cowboy, the recent music video debut of the peerless Boards of Canada.
In 1979, Mother Teresa was awarded both the Nobel Peace Prize and the Balzan Prize for promoting peace and brotherhood among the nations. Upon receipt of the former she was asked, "What can we do to promote world peace?" Her answer was simple: "Go home and love your family."
I suppose this comment is in danger of being dismissed as rather trite. Except that:
1. Mother Teresa was extremely hardcore.
2. Loving your family well is probably more difficult than founding a successful and reputable charity organization.
I suppose this comment is in danger of being dismissed as rather trite. Except that:
1. Mother Teresa was extremely hardcore.
2. Loving your family well is probably more difficult than founding a successful and reputable charity organization.
What do you think?
As reported in The Onion:
The release of The Da Vinci Code, the long-awaited film adaptation of the bestselling novel, is being met with controversy. Larry Brun responds, among others:
Larry does have a point. Mel Gibson's depiction of Satan in The Passion is the other obvious evil albino cameo in recent memory. What is the origin of this bizarre cinematic shorthand for Pure Evil, this tantalizing trace of the fantastically superstitious collective unconscious of middle America?
The release of The Da Vinci Code, the long-awaited film adaptation of the bestselling novel, is being met with controversy. Larry Brun responds, among others:
Larry does have a point. Mel Gibson's depiction of Satan in The Passion is the other obvious evil albino cameo in recent memory. What is the origin of this bizarre cinematic shorthand for Pure Evil, this tantalizing trace of the fantastically superstitious collective unconscious of middle America?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)