Holy cow, it's been forever since I posted on here. Well, I'm getting married, folks. That's all there is too it. Um, let's see. How can I tie this in with my blog theme?
...
OK! I got it!
I'm learning a lot right now about the idea of two becoming one in marriage. You really have to shift your mindset. You've spent the majority of your life thinking about yourself, how to better yourself, how to get where you want to go. But that shifts, at least, if you want a healthy marriage, you have to starting playing as a team.
You become so intimate with the person you're with, you've invested so much emotionally, that to ignore the others needs and desires literally is to hurt yourself. You risk putting distance between yourself and the person you've come to rely on for the majority of your personal emotional needs.
It's not just an emotional thing, though. In a spiritual sense, God put the two of you together for a reason, because you are a more powerful force together than as an individual. This may not be the case for everyone. People can be plenty powerful tools without a significant other, but if a union is under God, I believe that God intends it for the use of His Kingdom. So you have to keep your relationship as sacred as your own heart.
Then, of course, there's the physical and mental stuff. The physical stuff is kind of obvious. But you have to think like a team, too, change your mentality. Your brain starts using a lot less I's and a lot more WE's.
So, stoicism. The thing I'm recovering from. Well, if there's one thing I've learned the most from my relationship is that my words aren't that profound if there's no one there to read them. Context, that's the only place that wisdom has its use. Maybe that's why I don't post here anymore. I've come to value the need to be actively in relationships and to express and define myself within them rather than outside them. Still a stoic? Yep. But I'm getting there. But it's not about me anymore, and whether you're getting married or not, that's a good thing all around.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Not me, not me.
It is so, so, so, so, so easy... to focus on other people's problems.
I remember being a little kid. I think we all were at some point. And at some point, something happens where both you and your friend get into trouble. Sternly, you're both confronted by a parent, who calls for you both to explain yourselves. This is a measure of guilt recognition. The parent wants you to come out, say that what you did is wrong and that your guilt is proof of that. Of course, this does not happen. What happens?
Parent: What did you do wrong?
Kid 1: Well he did this.
Kid 2: But he did that.
Kid 1: Yeah well, he started it.
Kid 2: You started it.
Kid 1: It's his fault.
Kid 2: It's his fault.
No one can escape this. I don't understand people that keep track of which sins they haven't committed. Some people think they don't lie. These kids are comparing the sticks in their brother's eye while ignoring the planks in their own. Sure, these kids grow up, and then they do the same thing, except this time while pretending that they have the other's best interest at heart:
Grown-up 1: He's made the wrong choices. I'll show him the right ones.
Grown-up 2: He's not looking at it from my point of view. If he would listen to me, he'd understand.
Grown-up 1: I'm trying to help you.
Grown-up 2: I'm trying to help you.
What if God's the parent? Maybe when we make mistakes with people he asks us what we did wrong instead of telling us what to do straight out. But instead of trying to HELP OURSELVES, we get caught up in our guilt and start playing the blame-game. Maybe we're trying to distract ourselves from ourselves because it's easier to deal with other people's problems.
This relates to stoicism. I find myself trying to be strong so I can solve a problem, but sometimes I find I'm the problem. Almost always, if I am feeling sorry for myself or judgmental of someone, it's my problem.
I don't think there's room for judges in the church. There's only one chair and it's occupied.
So, how do you solve the disagreement? You don't. You admit defeat and make a choice to love yourself and to love the other. You love yourself by digging into your heart and pulling the crap out of it so you can see it. You love the other by apologizing. And there's no third step of apologizing to God. He teaches us if we love others we love Him. In other words, if I apologize to God and don't apologize to the person, my prayers still count for something, just not very much.
... It's so much easier to not love at all.
I remember being a little kid. I think we all were at some point. And at some point, something happens where both you and your friend get into trouble. Sternly, you're both confronted by a parent, who calls for you both to explain yourselves. This is a measure of guilt recognition. The parent wants you to come out, say that what you did is wrong and that your guilt is proof of that. Of course, this does not happen. What happens?
Parent: What did you do wrong?
Kid 1: Well he did this.
Kid 2: But he did that.
Kid 1: Yeah well, he started it.
Kid 2: You started it.
Kid 1: It's his fault.
Kid 2: It's his fault.
No one can escape this. I don't understand people that keep track of which sins they haven't committed. Some people think they don't lie. These kids are comparing the sticks in their brother's eye while ignoring the planks in their own. Sure, these kids grow up, and then they do the same thing, except this time while pretending that they have the other's best interest at heart:
Grown-up 1: He's made the wrong choices. I'll show him the right ones.
Grown-up 2: He's not looking at it from my point of view. If he would listen to me, he'd understand.
Grown-up 1: I'm trying to help you.
Grown-up 2: I'm trying to help you.
What if God's the parent? Maybe when we make mistakes with people he asks us what we did wrong instead of telling us what to do straight out. But instead of trying to HELP OURSELVES, we get caught up in our guilt and start playing the blame-game. Maybe we're trying to distract ourselves from ourselves because it's easier to deal with other people's problems.
This relates to stoicism. I find myself trying to be strong so I can solve a problem, but sometimes I find I'm the problem. Almost always, if I am feeling sorry for myself or judgmental of someone, it's my problem.
I don't think there's room for judges in the church. There's only one chair and it's occupied.
So, how do you solve the disagreement? You don't. You admit defeat and make a choice to love yourself and to love the other. You love yourself by digging into your heart and pulling the crap out of it so you can see it. You love the other by apologizing. And there's no third step of apologizing to God. He teaches us if we love others we love Him. In other words, if I apologize to God and don't apologize to the person, my prayers still count for something, just not very much.
... It's so much easier to not love at all.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Call of Duty
The Queen is an incredible movie that documents a struggle between duty and compassion as the royal family wrestles with the public's desire for national recognition of the death of Princess Diana. Helen Mirren plays an Oscar-winning performance as Queen Elizabeth II, who will not tolerate the lowering of the British flag to half-staff while the royal family is in Scotland (the flag only flies when the family is present). Meanwhile throngs of masses from all corners of Britain and even from other countries gather at Buckingham Palace to leave flowers for Diana, creating a visual statement that cannot help but well up remorse for the sorrow of the event.
Flashback about 2000 years: a Galilean named Jesus begins his ministry as an unorthodox teacher at the age of thirty. While more knowledgeable of doctrine and scripture than any other Rabbi in the history of Judaism, he abandons any preconceived notions of duty as a spiritual leader, choosing to dine with tax collectors and prostitutes, heal lepers, and speak with non-Jews.
A teacher sits in a classroom of fifty ill-mannered students, one of whom is crying. The student next to him called the boy a name that is not worth repeating, upsetting him. Already overwhelmed by the events of the day and the possibilities of interruptions, the teacher asks the student to go to the principal's office, where he sits for two hours waiting for his mother to pick him up.
Where does one draw the line of duty? At what cost does the need for love of the individual outweigh the need for leadership of the whole?
In Jesus' time the Pharisees represented orthodoxy and uprightness, a pillar of religious strength for others to turn to for guidance. To become a Pharisee, one had to be deemed worthy. The position had to be achieved, but also required a certain quality. Whatever this quality was, Jesus lacked, because he certainly did not become a religious leader. However, the Gospel does not fail to point out that Jesus could certainly make the cut. As a boy, he had visited the temple and baffled the religious leaders of his day.
The antagonist of the movie The Queen is surprisingly not alive. Princess Diana represents a character that is foreign to the royal family. She refused the crown, despised elitism, and cared very little about the things the royal family treasured so much. She is somewhat of a black sheep, not unlike the Messiah-to-be, Jesus.
But look at the teacher in the classroom. She is not one to be despised. Neither is the queen, neither are the Pharisees. They are aware of their duty. They are aware of the way that things are done and should be done. Shouldn't they?
Jesus has no sympathy for the Pharisees, calling them names, accusing them of damning his people, and confronting them in their own temples on doctrine. It is there religion that separates them from God, ignoring the needy and shunning the unrighteous.
Can you blame the Pharisees in their stoicism? They have good intentions, seemingly. They surely believe that they are doing God's Will. But God rejects them. Why?
Arrogance.
Stoicism is rooted in arrogance, a sin that seperates the individual from God and His intentions. One in a position of leadership tends to immediate jump into defense when a crisis arises, immediately removing oneself from emotion in order to take control of the situation. This is an experience I am all to familiar with, always leaping to the rescue of the broken, not through healing, but through problem-solving. A Pharisee will tell you what a sinner is doing wrong and how to reach salvation. Jesus will meet you where you are, hold you, and then stay with you until you are ready to follow. Both lead. One succeeds.
Jesus represented change, because nobody's perfect. The British monarchy may have stood for hundreds of years, but that doesn't mean that tradition doesn't have cracks. How can God mold a pot that refuses to be broken? The arrogance of a stoic prevents itself from being contradicted, justifying itself in order to cope with the fear of stepping out of a leader's comfort zone. A teacher may risk a short moment of anarchy for the sake of sympathizing with a crying child. A Rabbi may risk scandalizing his peers to reach out to his fellow Jews who long to understand their God. A queen may cross a single boundary of tradition in order to comfort a distressed people.
There is a missing ingredient that is difficult for a stoic to possess: sacrificial love. There are many loves, and sacrificial love is the one that overcomes fear, arrogance, and comfort. Duty is a stumbling block.
Imagine talking to Jesus about the importance of duty. How insignificant it must be to him! Did he even hesitate to touch the lepers and dine with prostitutes?
I recently read how Princess Diana walked into a retirement home and immediately walked over to the most distressed looking elderly wheelchair, holding her hand and talking with her for many minutes before any sort of publicity was present. Why can I not reach this point, to instantly love? To abandon any sort of hesitations?
What duty am I serving myself to hold back and prevent love from overtaking me? How can I change the way I have made myself?
Flashback about 2000 years: a Galilean named Jesus begins his ministry as an unorthodox teacher at the age of thirty. While more knowledgeable of doctrine and scripture than any other Rabbi in the history of Judaism, he abandons any preconceived notions of duty as a spiritual leader, choosing to dine with tax collectors and prostitutes, heal lepers, and speak with non-Jews.
A teacher sits in a classroom of fifty ill-mannered students, one of whom is crying. The student next to him called the boy a name that is not worth repeating, upsetting him. Already overwhelmed by the events of the day and the possibilities of interruptions, the teacher asks the student to go to the principal's office, where he sits for two hours waiting for his mother to pick him up.
Where does one draw the line of duty? At what cost does the need for love of the individual outweigh the need for leadership of the whole?
In Jesus' time the Pharisees represented orthodoxy and uprightness, a pillar of religious strength for others to turn to for guidance. To become a Pharisee, one had to be deemed worthy. The position had to be achieved, but also required a certain quality. Whatever this quality was, Jesus lacked, because he certainly did not become a religious leader. However, the Gospel does not fail to point out that Jesus could certainly make the cut. As a boy, he had visited the temple and baffled the religious leaders of his day.
The antagonist of the movie The Queen is surprisingly not alive. Princess Diana represents a character that is foreign to the royal family. She refused the crown, despised elitism, and cared very little about the things the royal family treasured so much. She is somewhat of a black sheep, not unlike the Messiah-to-be, Jesus.
But look at the teacher in the classroom. She is not one to be despised. Neither is the queen, neither are the Pharisees. They are aware of their duty. They are aware of the way that things are done and should be done. Shouldn't they?
Jesus has no sympathy for the Pharisees, calling them names, accusing them of damning his people, and confronting them in their own temples on doctrine. It is there religion that separates them from God, ignoring the needy and shunning the unrighteous.
Can you blame the Pharisees in their stoicism? They have good intentions, seemingly. They surely believe that they are doing God's Will. But God rejects them. Why?
Arrogance.
Stoicism is rooted in arrogance, a sin that seperates the individual from God and His intentions. One in a position of leadership tends to immediate jump into defense when a crisis arises, immediately removing oneself from emotion in order to take control of the situation. This is an experience I am all to familiar with, always leaping to the rescue of the broken, not through healing, but through problem-solving. A Pharisee will tell you what a sinner is doing wrong and how to reach salvation. Jesus will meet you where you are, hold you, and then stay with you until you are ready to follow. Both lead. One succeeds.
Jesus represented change, because nobody's perfect. The British monarchy may have stood for hundreds of years, but that doesn't mean that tradition doesn't have cracks. How can God mold a pot that refuses to be broken? The arrogance of a stoic prevents itself from being contradicted, justifying itself in order to cope with the fear of stepping out of a leader's comfort zone. A teacher may risk a short moment of anarchy for the sake of sympathizing with a crying child. A Rabbi may risk scandalizing his peers to reach out to his fellow Jews who long to understand their God. A queen may cross a single boundary of tradition in order to comfort a distressed people.
There is a missing ingredient that is difficult for a stoic to possess: sacrificial love. There are many loves, and sacrificial love is the one that overcomes fear, arrogance, and comfort. Duty is a stumbling block.
Imagine talking to Jesus about the importance of duty. How insignificant it must be to him! Did he even hesitate to touch the lepers and dine with prostitutes?
I recently read how Princess Diana walked into a retirement home and immediately walked over to the most distressed looking elderly wheelchair, holding her hand and talking with her for many minutes before any sort of publicity was present. Why can I not reach this point, to instantly love? To abandon any sort of hesitations?
What duty am I serving myself to hold back and prevent love from overtaking me? How can I change the way I have made myself?
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Acknowledged
I wish I appreciated people more. I wish that the first thing I did when I see someone I know is acknowledge and tell them how great I think they are.
I appreciate my roommate, Steev. He is a great, loving, caring, amazing guy, and I'm so lucky to be his roommate. I don't think I know anybody that can lighten things up like Steev does. The thing about Steev is that he loves people. He NEEDS to love people. There's something I wish I was more like.
Steev has lots of friends, which is something I envy, having had very few close friends. I'm baffled by the idea of being close to so many people. I know that wherever Steev goes in life, he's going to have friends and he's going to be taken care of. That's a very comforting thought to me.
I'm getting very good at telling my fiance how much I love her and how beautiful she is to me and how much I need her, but I don't tell people enough. My friend Kimberly Taylor has so many good things to say about her friends and loved ones. I wish I was more like her. I wish I could brag to people about my friends and my fiance and share the love I receive with other people.
I wish I was more like my friend Stephen. His ability to communicate, to share himself with people is beyond me. He helps me understand the difference between empathy and sympathy. Just knowing him makes me feel like I have someone to talk to if I ever need it.
I wish I was more like my fiance. She is a woman with common sense, which I DO NOT HAVE. Fact: Thomas is a common sense virgin. Not only is my fiance way more intelligent than me, she's also incredibly aware of who she is. She fights for the things she knows are important to her and refuses to live in a way that is contrary to her nature. How incredible is that? I can't think of anyone like her in this respect, and I wish I had that. She also can't stand being away from those she loves, and I definitely wish I was more like that.
It's interesting how appreciating someone involves comparing yourself to that person. Some people just provide something for you that you couldn't have on your own. It makes me wonder how I ever got along when I was so distant from people.
I appreciate God. He believes in me. My heart smiles every time I think about it. He's rooting for me. He treasures me. He's like the dad that roots for you at the sports games and tells you how awesome you are when you're convinced that you're the worst thing that ever happened to organized sports. He holds me up.
The thing about appreciating God, it's a little different from appreciating other people. When you appreciate God, He does for you what you wish you could do for yourself. It's a different dynamic, cuz we all try to do things for ourself. We all fail at that. I wish I could believe in myself, appreciate myself, root for myself, hold myself up.
But it's never enough. Just like I can never myself be like my friends, I can't save myself. Why do we humans always revert to our old ways so easily? We can't escape the sinful nature, you know? No matter how much we try to change, know how to change, temporarily change, it's like a rubber band. There is no escape except God.
I try to escape to my head, hence my previous post. Why can't I escape to the people who can actually help me? My friends, or better yet, God? I guess I just need to acknowledge it.
I appreciate my roommate, Steev. He is a great, loving, caring, amazing guy, and I'm so lucky to be his roommate. I don't think I know anybody that can lighten things up like Steev does. The thing about Steev is that he loves people. He NEEDS to love people. There's something I wish I was more like.
Steev has lots of friends, which is something I envy, having had very few close friends. I'm baffled by the idea of being close to so many people. I know that wherever Steev goes in life, he's going to have friends and he's going to be taken care of. That's a very comforting thought to me.
I'm getting very good at telling my fiance how much I love her and how beautiful she is to me and how much I need her, but I don't tell people enough. My friend Kimberly Taylor has so many good things to say about her friends and loved ones. I wish I was more like her. I wish I could brag to people about my friends and my fiance and share the love I receive with other people.
I wish I was more like my friend Stephen. His ability to communicate, to share himself with people is beyond me. He helps me understand the difference between empathy and sympathy. Just knowing him makes me feel like I have someone to talk to if I ever need it.
I wish I was more like my fiance. She is a woman with common sense, which I DO NOT HAVE. Fact: Thomas is a common sense virgin. Not only is my fiance way more intelligent than me, she's also incredibly aware of who she is. She fights for the things she knows are important to her and refuses to live in a way that is contrary to her nature. How incredible is that? I can't think of anyone like her in this respect, and I wish I had that. She also can't stand being away from those she loves, and I definitely wish I was more like that.
It's interesting how appreciating someone involves comparing yourself to that person. Some people just provide something for you that you couldn't have on your own. It makes me wonder how I ever got along when I was so distant from people.
I appreciate God. He believes in me. My heart smiles every time I think about it. He's rooting for me. He treasures me. He's like the dad that roots for you at the sports games and tells you how awesome you are when you're convinced that you're the worst thing that ever happened to organized sports. He holds me up.
The thing about appreciating God, it's a little different from appreciating other people. When you appreciate God, He does for you what you wish you could do for yourself. It's a different dynamic, cuz we all try to do things for ourself. We all fail at that. I wish I could believe in myself, appreciate myself, root for myself, hold myself up.
But it's never enough. Just like I can never myself be like my friends, I can't save myself. Why do we humans always revert to our old ways so easily? We can't escape the sinful nature, you know? No matter how much we try to change, know how to change, temporarily change, it's like a rubber band. There is no escape except God.
I try to escape to my head, hence my previous post. Why can't I escape to the people who can actually help me? My friends, or better yet, God? I guess I just need to acknowledge it.
Friday, January 5, 2007
Resolution
I didn't have a New Year's Resolution until yesterday. I was playing through one of my favorite videogames called "Earthbound", and there's this particular place in the game called "Club Stoic". In this 'club', a bunch of high-minded people are hanging out in this cramped room with a stage, and on this stage is a rock, an ordinary rock. All of the people in the room are observing the rock and discussing the meaning of life with one another. One is envisioning the inevitable collapse of capitalism. Another is going on and on about becoming 'complete', and everyone in general seems obsessed with the dream of becoming a high-minded individual. The whole of the conglomerate seems bent on pushing into each other in hopes of ascending themselves into omnipotence. And I, playing as a band of scruffy kids on a mission to save the universe, am forced to compare myself to the situation. Who am I in this scenario? Am I saving the world, or am I paying $40 for a glass of water and the opportunity to feel better about myself? Unfortunately, I must concede that I fall into the latter.
I am a Stoic. I have to admit. I am stuck in my head. I am in the clouds, out of the world, out of touch. I don't experience passion, pain, and grief. I deal with all of my problems solely with my mind. Why? I guess my mind is easier to grip, easy to fall back on. When problems arise, I immediately slip into my neuro-processor for the solution. I don't turn to God, friends, family, or even the world, just myself. And it's a sickness, I've realized. I'm incredibly self-reliant and, as such, am a self-idolater. I'm obsessed with me and I'm out of the world.
How am I supposed to be a witness or a prophet or a savior of the world if I don't act as if I'm in it. It may sound odd to read, but I long to experience emotion, pain, passion, grief, everything, because that is what makes life worth living. They are the words in the alphabet soup. Without them, I am just a rock on a stage.
Time to make a resolution.
I am a Stoic. I have to admit. I am stuck in my head. I am in the clouds, out of the world, out of touch. I don't experience passion, pain, and grief. I deal with all of my problems solely with my mind. Why? I guess my mind is easier to grip, easy to fall back on. When problems arise, I immediately slip into my neuro-processor for the solution. I don't turn to God, friends, family, or even the world, just myself. And it's a sickness, I've realized. I'm incredibly self-reliant and, as such, am a self-idolater. I'm obsessed with me and I'm out of the world.
How am I supposed to be a witness or a prophet or a savior of the world if I don't act as if I'm in it. It may sound odd to read, but I long to experience emotion, pain, passion, grief, everything, because that is what makes life worth living. They are the words in the alphabet soup. Without them, I am just a rock on a stage.
Time to make a resolution.
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