I haven’t blogged in a while.
Self-reflection is a practice that is heavily stressed in Teacher’s College – to the point where its value is often depreciated. Many complain.
But today was the second day in a row where I took time to listen to music for the sake of listening. As a musician and music student teacher, I rarely make time to enjoy or use music as therapy (un-wind, relax, comfort) and I seem to forget how affective and wonderful it is to listen to music.
I have a forty-five minute subway ride back downtown from my teaching placement and its been refreshing to listen to Iron and Wine’s Our Endless Numbered Days these past two days. Soft guitar playing and relaxing melodies with the occasional heavier bluesy track, it has brought peace and calm to my busy and restless heart and mind.
Writing reflections on my day in this mood is a very effective use of my time.
Take some time to listen to what you need to. Take some time to reflect.
We should remain within the limits imposed by our basic needs and strive with all our power not to exceed them. For once we are carried a little beyond these limits in our desire for the pleasures of life, there is then no criterion by which to check our onward movement, since no bounds can be set to that which exceeds the necessary.
– Fifth-century monk Nilus of Ancyra
I am regularly inspired by the thoughts of “ancient” folks.
I remember being humbled in a grade 11 English class when my teacher posed the question of whether we thought of ourselves as more intelligent or knowledgeable than people in ages past. We have different knowledge, not a greater knowledge.
Nilus here is talking about living simply. Something that is often thought of as faddish. But it is something that I strive for. I like his observation that there is no way to gauge excessiveness — anything beyond the limits of our basic needs is excessive.
I recently ordered the book The Awakening of Hope: Why We Practice a Common Faith by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, and I haven’t gotten to reading it yet, but this video series looks great and I can’t wait to start reading it.
We know the Human Race.
We know the Body of Christ.
Are we as a church, aware of our body?
Each of its members, all of the parts, the structure and interdependence of it all, its flexibility and ability to grow.
Could we describe humanity as a community or body?
Could we describe the church as a community or body?
Is the world in chaos. Are we literally a race to be alive today? A race for comfort, health, supremacy, safety.
Does the church reflect this “race”?
Or, are we as a church, an actual community, an actual body.
How Healthy is the world.
How healthy are we?
Well.. it’s now August 9th, and:
I’ve had a summer that started with a road trip, followed by a 3 week internship at a High School (music classroom helping), and now I’ve got a month left of working at a tractor dealership (which has lent my name to being published in a local periodical).
I’m at the point where I’m stoked to go to Toronto for school and meet up with all my school compadres. Yet, I know I’m going to miss looking out at 6 acres of peaches out the window and living at home.
Working in the shipping/receiving and parts department of a tractor dealership has been a mostly unrewarding job. There’s not much to look forward to… other than some very hilariously inappropriate comments and incredibly creative uses of curse words by the mechanics (one in particular).
Moving to and living in Toronto will be really great. I’m joining MoveIn – intentional Christian community living in poor and densely populated areas. I’ll be living with 2 other guys in an apartment in St. Jamestown, and we’re part of a ‘Patch’ that includes another 2-3 girls who will be living in an apartment nearby. We’ll meet for weekly prayer meetings, and be a presence in the community. (I will be blogging about this soon, and will give much more detail).
I also might be doing an internship at a church in Oakville. We shall see… updates to come.
I’ve been away for quite some time.
Exam’s were in session.
Then prepping for the roadtrip.
You can follow my adventures here: http://www.justwonlife.blogspot.ca/
The concept of negotiating what makes us human through looking at representations of human beings with grotesque tendencies is brilliant. These characters – like Hannibal Lecter – are certainly monsters in a psychological sense.
To say that they are more powerful than monsters for the purposes of negotiating our humanness, in a narrative, might be taking it too far – I would say they are a powerful example, but that they only fulfil another type of monster in the repertoire of monsters.
The intelligent, alive, and psychologically disturbed human-monster (or inhumane-human) represents the monstrous potential within a person extremely well; the Other is almost as close as it gets to us. On an intrapersonal level, this type of monster is extremely effective, it indeed resonates deeply.
Outside of this, vampires look pretty human-like, zombies less so, and ghosts aren’t even physical [Aside: I think the black smoke monster (or The Man in Black) from LOST would prove to be an interesting artefact: ghost-like and physical (morphing), immortal and supernatural, immune to death, and longing for freedom (that ultimately leads to an unwanted death)]. But, my point is that though human-monsters are an effective example, the vampire and zombie (ghost and mummy) lead us to question our humanity in different ways.
Zombies, more specifically zombie apocalypses (apocali?), like in The Walking Dead, lead us to question our humanity: will we retain our humanity in a fight for survival? how will people relate to one another in dire circumstance? will we retain a sanctity of life? what is the purpose of life? etc.
The inhuman-human, human-monster, or human being with grotesque tendencies, whatever it be called, is a welcome addition to the list of monsters.
The topic of God and Monsters (Vampires and Zombies) for this past week was entertaining – I thoroughly enjoyed watching an episode of The Walking Dead; and thought provoking – what makes us human and the drive for monsters (vampires or Frankenstein) to be human. But on to what the title suggests.
38 Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.”43 When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out.” 44 The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
Take that in for a second. You have just witnessed a guy get up from out of a tomb (that reeks) all wrapped up in linen (though that may imply mummy sooner than zombie – regardless; he’s undead).
Or, you are Lazarus. You’ve just been dead for the past 4 days (you would beat Jesus in consecutive days dead before resurrection) and now you are up and about, and ready to keep living the rest of your life. Weird.
Apparently though, if this were to happen to you, you’d be joining the ranks of 25 other people, since 1982, who have experienced Lazarus Syndrome: the spontaneous return of circulation after failed attempts at resuscitation. (I find this case is particularly interesting.)
It’s rather bizarre. These people, like Lazarus, were dead. Unlike “real” zombies who become mindless, flesh-feasting, and soulless creatures, they come alive and can go back to being their normal selves.
I wonder what psychological toll this would have on Lazarus, or anyone else who’s experienced this. Waking up in a morgue, found breathing by a funeral worker who’s about to pump you full of formaldehyde, or waking up and having been told you were dead is something that would mess with me. The possibility of dying a second time… Am I different (monstrous) in any way… Do I live my life any differently… Or is everything just the same. I suppose there’s a lot to think about. It is, perhaps, an interesting narrative.
In the same way that a zombie apocalypse story can force people to choose to become better people or become more human, I wonder if Lazarus-esque stories offer the same possibilities and questions.
What do you think?