Wizard of Oz Fragments

I was in a local production of "The Wizard of Oz" this summer....here are the fragments.

My youngest daughter was in a production of "Annie" this past winter and she loved it. When she heard the same church theater group would be doing "The Wizard of Oz", she was determined to audition for a part again.  In fact, my other two kids got excited by the whole idea as well and decided to audition for "munchkins". 

I think I was sitting at the table goofing around with them, giving my "wizard" voice when they told me they wanted me to audition...in fact, they told me they wouldn't audition without me. I feigned a little that I wasn't interested, but it was mainly for self-protection.  I figured the director had someone else in mind, or there were politics involved.  That said, the kids were persistent in their begging, Besides, I figured it would be fun just to try out and make some memories with the kids.

At the audition they called up everyone, no matter the part and asked for us to the sing a little of the "Jolly Old Land of Oz" as a big a group. No problem. So far, I am acing this thing as I can read a little bit of music and can sing okay. Then, to my the horror, they asked for us to dance. I told them I was only trying out for  the role of Oz, but they insisted that they wanted to see what everyone could do.

There I was, the only grown man on stage, surrounded largely by girls under the age of 14, a couple of boys and a few older ladies. The director wanted to see if we could learn a quick dance routine on the spot and to put it into practice. To put it mildly,  I was terrible. So terrible that I just had to laugh while I was up there. They asked us to improvise our ending move and I ended up falling over, which got a few laughs. At least they could see I had a good attitude about the whole thing.

In the weeks prior to the audition, I had practiced a few lines at home given the availability of scripts online.  I focused my attention on the "award scene" in the aftermath of when Oz has been discovered and delivers awards and mini-monologues to Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion awards.




Frank Morgan's performance is inspired and just about, well, perfect. He is playful, wise and has a twinkle in his eye.  To step into such a beloved role and performance was intimidating.

It was obvious this was a perfect audition scene and when I practiced at home I used my  "Map Maker voice"....which requires a little explanation. As I have covered here, I am a storyteller for the kids and one my main characters for my stories is the Map Maker. Coincidentally he is also an old wizard and he has a strange accent that I created from somewhere in my strange head.  It's a almost English/North Eastern American thing and I am not quite sure where I picked it up from, but it's definitely fits the character. It's given with an older affect and honestly, people like the voice. In fact, I would guess most of the specific compliments given to me were about my voice for the character. 

While other actors auditioned for various parts, the director told me the "medals scene" would be the scene I would audition with, so I got a bit of practice in as well.  Finally, it was my turn and frankly,  I nailed it. I could tell I was doing well....but it just felt good and the director looked happy. I tried it with my regular voice a second time but that didn't work out too well. It seemed like the Map Maker and Oz were meant to be. As I stepped off the stage the director told me I would be one of the Oz's for sure....the productions are so popular, they double-cast all the lead roles.

So, that was that and I had been cast as a "lead" of a real stage production.

Of course, I've had a little experience on the stage from time to time, but nothing too fancy.  The last significant stage production I had been in was a mini-Christmas production for Christmas Eve service at church a few years ago. However, almost all my lines were pre-recorded, as the audience was supposed to hear my thoughts. There was practically no pressure, except to not trip on my own two feet.

My previous other roles included some church stuff in high school and my roles in "The Music Man" my senior year. I was one of the traveling salesmen (actually had the first line of the whole play), a towns-person and sang the town songs and was a dancer to the "Shipoopi" with my future wife! I can't believe I had to Google "Shipoopi" to figure out how to spell it. I will eventually blog about this experience but suffice to say I was very nervous for the first scene and after that I could just have fun and blend in with the rest of the cast. 

The kiddo's were also cast, E & H were munchkins and C was a Poppy flower and a Oz-ian citizen. It was a family affair!

While it was "only a church production" this church really offers some impressive stuff. The directors have worked in NYC and have actually done professional work.

I mean, check out my crazy head that was projected when I was Oz. Technology never fails to amaze me. This looked surprisingly professional. 

They had a total of eight shows, which meant all the leads would have four shows each.

So while I was a "lead" by strict definition, I had strange role. Two of my six scenes were pre-recorded and five of the six scenes are in the second act of the play. So while I was required to be at many Act I rehearsals, I had little to do but sit around and fret about my scene in Act I. Even when I got around to it, we would do it "one and done" style, as the director seemed to have supreme confidence in me. Besides, they had all sorts of stuff to get to for Dorthy and the others like singing and dancing, etc.

I didn't mind it all the downtime though, it was interesting to watch the show come together. Still, I was bit of an outsider. Almost all of our leads were in their 20's and in college, while I am an old man. Two exceptions were the other Oz (in his 50's) and one of the witches (in her mid- 40's). Mirroring my participation with the stage, I barely got to know them until we started rehearsing, while most of them had worked together at least a few times.

After the first few weeks of rehearsals on Act I, we finally dived into Act II. This was a welcome change but also, things started to move pretty fast. I was given one full day of  warning to record my big Oz head scenes. I didn't think it was a big deal as I knew my lines "OK" and I figured I was have multiple takes. No problem.

The next evening came and I went down early to have my face painted and record my scenes. If I am being honest, (and hey no one reads this blog anyway, so why not?)....it was pretty cool. On a technical side, I hated it. I don't like anything near my eyes but on practical side, it felt like I was in show business.

The best selfies are with make-up on.

The problem with only having a day's notice is that my memorization of the script was not that good. Especially when everyone is just staring at you and especially when you have a huge light directed into your face and you're not supposed to look anywhere but straight ahead. It was weird and I am obviously making excuses here....but I felt like I was choking. It was the first time I really started to doubt myself in the production.  If I was grading myself, I would give my performance a B but this is because the "producer" of the digital effect could combine my takes. I felt pretty bad about the whole thing but the director was fine and everyone was supportive and kind-hearted about the whole thing.

 After weeks of rehearsals, we were finally ready to open the show.  I was nervous, more nervous than I had originally expected. I was on the side-stage listening to Dorthy sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and realizing...this was it and there was no turning back. My first performance was so-so, but as someone later said, I got better each performance and it really felt that way. I mean, I could get technical - my first scene the third night was the best while my last scenes on the fourth night was the best ya know, no one but me could even sense a difference.

A few photos from my scene as Professor Marvel in Act I. Act I was in gray or "black and white" to mirror the film. It was a cool idea.

My favorite part of the whole endeavor was adding something different each night. One night, it was a mistake, but both "Dorthy" and I found our way back as we both knew the script. Dorthy was great -  talented, professional in demeanor and had a great attitude.  She also seemed like a great person off stage too. Being that the majority of my lines come with Dorthy, it was fortunate that we had a little chemistry.

In my first scene, Dorthy has run away from home when she meets Professor Marvel. Once Marvel figures out what's going on, he tries to "con" her back home. This is such fun character type to play - the con man with a heart of gold. Anyway, one night I decided to add a bit to the performance and asked Dorthy as she's attempting to get in "tune with infinity" if she's ever done this before, because she's a "natural". My fellow actor didn't bat an eye...and I was pleased when we got a few laughs.

After Act I, I would get to hang out "back stage" - an adjacent fellowship hall next door. It was fun to hang out with my kids and check on them as needed. The kids did so well, the little one's aced the dance moves and the older one sang great. the show was a great for their confidence. I could see growth in all their performances. In particular, given the research that shows adolescent girls lose confidence from 10-13, it was nice to be a part of something that can help build confidence and character.

Act II is where the Wizard's role is actually meaty, although, again, two of my scenes were pre-recorded. I would still waltz in the back of the room, just in case there were technical problems and I would then voice the Wizard from the back. Nothing happened, but it was still fun to walk in wearing a cape.  It's a little known fact that if you're walking wearing a cape it increases your confidence by 90%. My costume was a little silly but it did get me into character.

I loved the "awards" scene out of all my scenes.  I would practice my monologues driving to work, in the shower or really during any part of my day I was alone. I rarely slipped up, as I knew it so well. Right before I would go out on this scene I wasn't nervous but actually excited.  It felt like the character and I would zen into one being at this point during the show.

Immediately after the awards scene is the farewell in the hot air balloon. Look, it is local theater. We had it set up on wheels and I would "float" away back stage. It wasn't all that bad. After I flew away, I had to rush backstage to a different area, get back into my Professor Marvel costume quickly to be ready to be back in Kansas. That was by far, the most nerve wracking part of the role. Also, changing in front of people isn't a big deal when you are properly motivated to do it quickly and get your mic back on.

During my speech in the balloon, I would look at the cast, specifically looking for my three kids.  Usually, I could find one or two and this would make me happy. 

After my fourth performance, it was all over. All the hours to learn a very specific skill - the lines, the motions, etc. were now essentially - useless. All these specific people in specific roles, whom accomplished a goal as a team would never be brought back together again.  It already feels poignant and this was only six months ago!

Another thing I loved from this experience was the challenge of it all. I haven't really had a "real" role ever, not like this....and here I am, 41, and trying something new. It felt like I was stretching a muscle that hadn't been used in a long, long time and it felt good. I am grateful for the experience. After all, isn't that what life's about - trying something new and having fun with those you love the most?

The Formula to my Faith

Because nobody asked and there is no demand, here it is. A percent breakdown of how my patch-work faith is put together I  created while sitting at a child's birthday party under black lights.  

25% - Traditional Christianity   - I am an unabashed liberal in so many areas of my life but when God and Jesus are reduced to symbols…it bothers me. Some say these events really didn’t happen or that they are symbolically true…there may even be some truth in that. However, I believe in the historical accuracy of most of what is the recorded in the gospels (with some obvious examples of inclusions in the text). I believe Jesus actually defeated death and rose again…. otherwise, why am I doing this?  

25% - Liberal Christianity – While I am pretty traditional in my beliefs surrounding the gospels, everything else gets complicated.  I don’t believe everything literally happened in the Bible (nor do I think the author’s original intent in many cases was that it was supposed to be understood in a literal sense).  On the other hand, I don't believe everything is patently false either. I believe in evolution, I don’t believe in hell, I have problems with Paul, I am fine with women leadership and practicing homosexuals in the Church.

17% -Kierkegaard's Understanding of Faith – Faith and reason are not reconcilable in my book. There’s no need to attempt to do so, it only makes us look silly. Also, just because I don't understand 50% of what he writes doesn't mean I can't dig his concepts. 

12% - Historical Criticism – Some may claim foul here. I mean, this isn't a reason why I believe but without this tool in the tool chest, I wouldn't be a believer. We must put an ancient text in its historical context of culture and possible author motivations. Otherwise, we simply won’t understand the text clearly..  If the Bible is only understood “as is” it’s not half as impressive and you’re missing out on it’s true beauty.   

10% - Cosmological Argument – Look, it’s not convincing to some, but for me, it works.

5% - Pascal’s Wager – I mean, it makes sense. Besides, it's a fun little story. 

3% - Personal Experience - There have a been a few times that seem too good to be chance events. On the other hand, one can fool one’s self very easily.

2%  - Ontological Argument – eh, only here because an agnostic that I respect said it was the most convincing argument he had heard. That’s how much I respect him.  

1% - Hope in things unseen – Well, hope is a beautiful thing now isn’t it?

 

Well, there's this too but just wanting something can't make it true, nor would it be a good reason to believe in something. There's a lot of research that shows genetic predisposition to believe in religion (or not to believe).  I think my brain is split down the middle on that one.

That's all party people, keep it real and keep working it 'till the cows come home. 

The Problem with Truth

What is truth?

Lately the question has been kicking around in my life, so here I find myself typing out my thoughts.  When it comes to truth, I am no relativist.  I have little patience for those folks who believe all opinions, religions or cultures are all “equal” or “the same”.  I mean no one is stopping you from believing that way, but it’s just plain lazy.  

On the other hand, I think the Buddhist/Hindu/Jain story informs my point of view as well.The story goes like this… there were once six blind men that were taken to an elephant and asked to describe what an elephant was like. 

I know this looks and sounds like a mean fraternity prank.

Each of the six men had a different description of what an elephant was based upon where they stood in relation to the elephant. The man at the trunk was convinced an elephant was like a huge python, the man at the tusk believed an elephant was like a spear, the guy at the ear thought it was like a fan, etc., etc. Of course the point of the story is that none of the men were completely right and none of them were completely wrong. They each had a part of the truth but not the full truth. 

For Hindus, the "truth" (and for that matter, God) is too subjective (or in God's case incomprehensible) for anyone person to claim they can see the whole truth. Most people are like those blind guys, believing they know what the elephant is.  

When Buddha was asked by people what truth was, he was said to have been silent. Jesus was also silent when Pilate asked him what the truth was.  Maybe the question is just a big trap question. Maybe the truth about truth is that it's like the Tao, once you name it, you’ve lost it. 

..................

I am a Christian, so in theory, I am supposed to have a clue about the truth. On Sunday my pastor had a whole sermon on truth and Christianity. One of his points was that good, sincere people can be wrong about their beliefs.  One example was about  the woman who believed she could survive like a plant, off of only sunshine and water.  Yes, the story was true. 

In this particular case the woman was proved wrong by the simple fact that she almost died (she had to end her little experiment).  As silly and disturbing as her truth claim was, it could be verified in the here and now. She could be proved right or wrong.  

The "truth" is, religion kinda sucks as a truth claim.

Not too long ago, we had a visit from some Mormons in our house. They came by while I was doing yard work, so I set up an appointment with them the following week. After about 40 minutes about talking about the cross, Joseph Smith and the Book of Abraham, I finally asked them how they knew they were "right". One of them replied that they had prayed about it and they felt God had given them confirmation of the truth of The Book of Mormon. This is a standard Mormon line. They feel it's true, so therefore, it's true.

I asked him if he thought the Islamic terrorists "felt" they were "right".  He replied that yes, he thought that they believed they were following "God's will". If religion's truth is based on how you as an individual feel about it - isn't this a problem?  Even if I move beyond my "gut feelings" and I put my trust in the Bible, a church, a pastor, etc., you are still no better (although you might be better informed). Any given church may have misrepresented, mistranslated or even misunderstood "God's will" thus muddying the water even more.

This brings me to the idea of unfalsifiable beliefs. This is best explained by John Wisdom's Parable of the Invisible Gardner:

 "Two people return to their long neglected garden and find, among the weeds, that a few of the old plants are surprisingly vigorous. One says to the other, 'It must be that a gardener has been coming and doing something about these weeds.' The other disagrees and an argument ensues. They pitch their tents and set a watch. No gardener is ever seen. The believer wonders if there is an invisible gardener, so they patrol with bloodhounds but the bloodhounds never give a cry. Yet the believer remains unconvinced, and insists that the gardener is invisible, has no scent and gives no sound. The skeptic doesn't agree, and asks how a so-called invisible, intangible, elusive gardener differs from an imaginary gardener, or even no gardener at all."

This parable brings up some problems for all religious believers, as faith can’t be verified. It cannot be proved true (or false) in our lifetime.  One could say that some Christian claims might be able to be "proved" wrong by a discovery of an ancient artifact. However, many believers might question the authenticity or realiablity of any discovery thus undermining this claim of falsifiability. 

While falsifiability does prove to be a problem for the veracity of any truth claim, I don't think it sinks all religions. If the religion's truth claims can be proved likely to be not true at all (i.e. Mormonism) then, you have a clear case for disbelief.  However, I would posit that if God exists, a level of mystery would be needed in order to retain the moral free agency of people. Either way, I do find problems with discovering what the “truth” is from any religion’s point of view.

All this week I kept thinking about why my pastor’s sermon rubbed me the wrong way. What’s the problem with stating that Christians have “the truth”? I mean, I am a Christian after all, don’t I believe my own faith?

I guess that’s what it comes down to – faith.  For me, faith is ultimately a call for the believer to stop trying to answer what the “truth” is. Because once our faith is something you know as a fact then it’s not really faith anymore.  You cease to have free will and are only responding to something you have to respond to.   I am suspicious of people who seem to know it all.   

"You should never never doubt what no one is sure about"

Some people take comfort in answering life's riddles - they put their faith into a church or God or something else entirely. That way their doubts are silenced, their "truth" preserved.  My profession has honed my skills as a thinker - every question can be questioned, every query can be reversed to show another side. When I come up with an answer, a new question is then created. Maybe I am insane. Lately I've been consumed with doubt.

Authentic faith, like the pursuit of truth, requires authentic doubt. Questioning your beliefs or your faith isn’t just a burden, it’s a gift. That’s how Kierkegaard saw faith, as a miracle from God.  When Jacob wrestles and struggles with God he isn’t struck down by a lightening bolt, he is blessed. It is because of his struggle he gets the blessing.  

The more I struggle, the more I risk, the more I feel like this is the way it’s supposed to be. 

I guess my problem with claiming I have the truth is that in doing so, I am ignoring the fact that I have doubts about my truth claim. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in my truth claim, it’s just it can’t be proved.  The idea that my truth claim is somehow better than the other blind guy trying to feel the elephant is a little silly.  So, we’ll just keep feeling together, hoping the elephant is really there.

Postscript: Just read an interview with the new pope and I thought he pretty much summed up this whole post a lot better than me:

"In this quest to seek and find God in all things there is still an area of uncertainty. There must be. If a person says that he met God with total certainty and is not touched by a margin of uncertainty, then this is not good. For me, this is an important key. If one has the answers to all the questions—that is the proof that God is not with him. It means that he is a false prophet using religion for himself. The great leaders of the people of God, like Moses, have always left room for doubt. You must leave room for the Lord, not for our certainties; we must be humble. Uncertainty is in every true discernment that is open to finding confirmation in spiritual consolation. Our life is not given to us like an opera libretto, in which all is written down; but it means going, walking, doing, searching, seeing … We must enter into the adventure of the quest for meeting God; we must let God search and encounter us."

Stories from Before the Big Bang.....

The other night I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of the cosmological argument for God’s existence and the Big Bang.  Yes, these sorts of things keep me up at night from time to time as well as thinking about making an excel spreadsheet of my comics collection and fantasizing about quitting my job and doing something crazy like moving my family to the other side of the globe.   

 I'm a big fan of the whole school of thought, "we are a way for the universe to know itself". Sounds cool, ya know? Really without us or another sentient, conscious beings, the universe is a utterly pointless and meaningless affair.

Anyway, if you’re unfamiliar with the cosmological argument, here is one version:

1. Whatever begins to exist has a cause.
2. The Universe began to exist.
3. Therefore, the Universe had a cause.

Most believers point to the “cause” being God – although this itself is a leap of logic and faith.  The obvious weakness to this next leap is that if God started the universe and everything has a cause (per premise #1), then where did your “eternal” God come from?  It starts the whole argument over again. 

So this got me thinking what came about before the start of the universe?

Oh, that's clever.

I am reasonably sure I have thought about this before, but this particular evening, the idea stuck around in my head. I should state that I am way out of my depth here. Basically, my knowledge of the cosmos and philosophy can be fit into the palm of very small child. Maybe this is why I find it so fascinating because everything I read, I learn something.  Nonetheless, I will carry on because that’s what bloggers do (I  guess). 

I recently finished reading Klosterman’s Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs (eh, it's alright) and in one section he rails against probability, stating that everything is 50/50. Either something is going to happen or it’s not.  Either it is or is not true, etc. etc. . Of course if you play with this idea enough it gets absurd:  Unicorns: 50/50, UFO’s: 50/50, Noah’s Ark: 50/50,  and so on and so forth. 

Even still, there is certain logic to it.  I am working under two assumptions here and they are basically clarifying the positions above:

1. We know the universe began
2. Something can’t come from nothing

If we are discussing the prehistory universe (and apparently there are whole books on this subject) then we find ourselves, whatever our position to be, in theoretical conjecture.  Is everything at this point 50/50? Maybe there are no odds at this point, just ideas that are variously silly, educated, absurd, realistic, obvious and troubling. I guess what I am trying to say is that something caused the universe into being. It was either on purpose or a happy accident.

So if it wasn’t God behind creation, what was it? Again, we are in theory, and this idea might be debunked or outdated, but, work with me people! Here’s one theory I found: 
 

“…the new view argues that our universe was created when two parallel "membranes" collided cataclysmically after evolving slowly in five-dimensional space over an exceedingly long period of time. These membranes, or "branes" as theorists call them, would have floated like sheets of paper through a fifth dimension that even scientists admit they find hard to picture intuitively..”

Sounds good.... but wait - where did the “branes” in the fifth dimension come from?  A common phrase I kept  reading on the web, was "asking what came before the Big Bang is like asking what is north of the North pole".  It was a common discussion point among atheists. Here's an interview with atheist Richard Dawkins by fundamentalist Hugh Hewitt:

HH: I’m talking about the whole cosmos. Where did that come from, 13 billion years ago?

RD: It came from the big bang, which is not a complex process. It’s a simple process.

HH: And what preceded the big bang?


RD: Well, physicists won’t answer that question. They will say that time itself began in the big bang, and so the question what preceded it is illegitimate.


HH: What do you think?


RD: I’m not enough of a physicist to understand what I’m saying, but I have to say that that’s what physicists say.


HH: So when you consider before the big bang, what does Richard Dawkins think was there?


RD: I don’t consider the question, because I recognize that it’s an intuitively appealing question. I recognize that I, along with everybody else, wants to ask that question. Then I talk to physicists who say you can no more ask what came before the big bang than you can ask what’s north of the North Pole.

Ironically, whether you go with the "God" answer or the "nothing" answer, they each share similarities in that the ultimate answer is of what was before the Big Bang is...well...don't ask, because the question itself can't be asked. When I asked a philosopher (who is a few offices down from me) about what happened before the Big Bang,  he noted that people don't like to hear that this question is basically unanswerable. Even if that really is the case after all.  Still, something bothers me about saying there was nothing (or "branes") that by sheer nature did something. 

It is likely that I am missing something at this point (either from philosophy or cosmology). Maybe the more refined question is to ask why is there something rather than nothing to begin with? 

From my perspective, both of these creation accounts are stories we tell ourselves.  We consume stories in film, television, in novels and in art. We repeat stories told in song and in our sacred books. It's like our brains can't accept anything without a definite start (and end?)  We're the story-telling animal. Personally, one's belief of disbelief shouldn't be centered on one argument alone so I take this whole exercise with a grain of salt. All that being said, at least tonight, I'll sleep a little better about the story I've adopted for my own.  
 

Death, Birds, Hope

My grandmother has pancreatic cancer and so I've been thinking about death a lot more lately. Death and oddly enough, birds.  

My grandma is on hospice care at home and we went to visit her last Saturday. Sure, she has looked better before but she was still herself; except she stayed in bed. She couldn't host us as she typically would have. She couldn't serve me her watery ice tea (I could never tell her I didn't like her tea) or cook her famous pot roast but all in all, given the circumstances, it felt pretty normal. It was a nice visit. 

As she lives a little over an hour away, the soonest we could come back was the following Friday.  In six measly days, she had changed completely. 

I was taken aback when I first walked into her room.  She looked as though she had lost 15 pounds from her 108-pound frame. The weight loss affected her face and her eyes were sunken in. I hate to say it but she looked .... well, bird-like. It was like being around a different person. Even her demeanor was different; less interaction, more of a blank stare, and more...silence. She hasn't eaten much and having a conversation takes more energy than she has in her reserve tank.

I found myself watching the "Dr. Oz" show with my grandma in silence alone.  The whole thing was surreal. My grandma is dying and we're watching Dr. Oz with our remaining time together. The thought occurred that I should take advantage of my time with her and chat.  I prepped her with questions about her courtship with my grandfather (who passed seven years ago). She struggled a little bit and I didn't catch every word but it went on for a few minutes and then....she got sick.

I felt awful. I know intellectually that maybe it wasn't my fault that she became ill but I still blamed myself.

Waiting for someone to die is a strange thing. I know it's not a unique situation but it's still new to me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

My grandmother's mother washed the dead in her small Texas town for wakes or funerals. Her mother would bring the body into the house and wash them on the table. Yes, she would wash bodies on their own kitchen table. When my grandma was five or six, her father died and his body was brought into the house to be prepared. She saw his body and hid in the back of the house for a long time.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

My mother is frustrated that my grandmother doesn't want to talk much about it.  "It" of course, means talking about dying.  My grandmother is from the "Greatest Generation" and traditionally they aren't as open as Baby Boomers. She's always been no-nonsense and dying from cancer has made her a bit "stoic" as my mom sees it. But is she afraid? She's been a faithful Christian her entire life but what does she think, what is she feeling? 

I told her how much I loved her cherry pies and this barely got a half-smile. I counted that as my victory for the day. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My parents have been taking care of my grandmother often, which means I have to take care of my parent's pets and house when they are gone.  Their house backs up to a large wooded area and they have taken in three cats from "the wild" as their own.  In two of the last three days, one of the cats has killed a bird on the back porch. Just gutted the whole thing out - there were even blood stains on the concrete.  This isn't surprising, as cats kill birds all the time, but it gets your attention. 

Death and birds.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Last night, I woke up numerous times, and with each lapse of consciousness, I was haunted by the memory of my grandma. 

How different she looked, how powerless we are, the pain she is feeling, and the emotions she can't or won't express. I wondered about my own death and how similar or different it might be. Any time I think about death, I think about God. And when I think about God, late at night, I always doubt. I begin to doubt that God exists or if there is any purpose in life, I doubt my feelings and my own experiences. 

I feel existential dread as I recognize the slow and inexorable wheel of time as it moves relentlessly forward every day of my life. The world is defined by its commitment to change, entire species and epochs have come and gone....for what end? One day you and I will be gone. One day, it's more than likely humanity will become extinct too.   I know this isn't an uncommon thought or concern but I wonder what the point of existence is anyway?  The pain, the mystery, the suffering, the wondering...the plan?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days ago my family and I went to one of our favorite pizza restaurants to eat out and on the way out, I noticed a small dead bird that had died from running into the window. This happens all the time, millions of birds die every year around the world due to flying into windows. Still, the human brain is wired to recognize patterns..... so, there it was again, death and birds. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks ago a wren made a huge nest on our front door. There are six eggs. We have watched them grow, day by day. 

It was a welcome bit of hope in a troubled time. 

Walking into Faith

Why does it always seem to take a crisis to believe?

Why can't we just take the plunge before we find ourselves in a dire situation?

Pride? Stupidity?

Maybe we're just wired that way.

Like Indiana Jones I think you can't see the bridge until you actually walking on it. It's not a freaking Jedi mind trick, it's like asking a blind man to describe a sunset - we're incapable of seeing until we believe. If you think God is dead, then, he's dead.

As I struggle to believe-- I wonder why the things that always bring me back are the things I can't handle.

It's not that pushing the rock up the hill endlessly isn't impossible alone, Sisyphus did it, as did Camus. The point is, it doesn't have to be that way. So while I relax now, comfortable in my air conditioned house to doubt, over analyze and ponder -- I wait knowing that a storm is coming and I don't want to go through it alone.

Like all storms this means preparation is in order and that means I have work to do.

Belief, Knowledge and Yoda

Yoda uses "The Force" to lift the X-Wing out of the swampy bog. The spacecraft floats above the water and Yoda guides it with his hand, gently placing the spacecraft to the ground. Luke utters in disbelief, “I don’t believe it.” “That is why you fail” replies Yoda. - From The Empire Strikes Back

"If I am capable of grasping God objectively, I do not believe, but precisely because I cannot do this I must believe." - Soren Kierkegaard


Believing is never as easy as it seems in abstract. The whole idea of believing in a God seems easy and most of all, well, neat and tidy. However, in real life you might find yourself awake at night wondering if this is all there is to life. For all I know we might be floating around in space, helpless, small and living meaningless lives.

In my small time here on earth I have learned that it's easier to let go of the answers - to let go of the assumptions and knowledge I have about life, god, belief, etc. I can't figure it all out and I don't need to. When we put God in a box (like Luke Skywalker or a person taking the opposite position of Kierkegaard) we will fail (in part because we are human). It's not about knowing but trusting.


“I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." – Jesus (MT 17:20)


Jesus says even the smallest of seeds of faith will do great things. The beginning of every journey begins with one step. I believe that to be true and one day hope to live it to its fullest extent.

Thought of the Day # 1

Question everything - just don't expect any answers.

Just Being

A few weeks ago when the rest of my family was out of town on a Sunday, I went for a walk instead of church.

This made me happy because nature makes me feel more spiritual than going to church.

I can't exactly place my finger on why walking outdoors feels more comfortable or "spiritual" than going to church. It might be because I'm really a introvert who forced myself to be an extrovert. Maybe it's because when I'm walking I'm more interested in just being and experiencing rather than trying to rebut the sermon I'm listening to.

Life seems to make more sense outdoors. In the world I'm surrounded by doubt, drama at work, disappointment, and always searching for answers. Most of the time all my thinking just leads to more questions or unsatisfying answers. I don't mean to say my life is horrible - it's just that life out in the world often amounts to unsatisfying conclusions.

When I am in nature - it - no, I am different.


I'm more at peace with life, I'm more calm and relaxed. Even walking towards no destination I seem more purposeful.

Anyway, back to the walk I was talking about....after walking for about thirty minutes I sat down to pray and attempt to meditate. I was reminded by the wisdom of Daoism which sees nature not for what can be done with it, but seeks to emulate it in its very being. Nature doesn't seek answers. It doesn't worry or have any drama. It just is.

"Nature is not kind - It treats all impartially" - Dao De Jing

Sitting there I realized that everything of the world; the rat race, my doubts about God and myself seem so absurd and petty. Our answers are all right here in front of us. When I pray outside I feel closer to creation and my creator. I feel assurance - that there is a purpose for it all. Being busy and constantly doing things creates separation from the natural world or natural way of living.

As I sat down I first watched as a light wind came upon the trees around me like waves in the ocean. It was so quiet, I only heard the leaves rustling above and around me. No planes were overhead and the wind masked the far off highway as well. This solitary moment felt right. I meditated for a short while (honest disclosure: when I meditate, its only for a few seconds at a time). I then prayed for a long time for the first time in a long while.

I continued walking, moving wherever it struck my fancy. I prayed three separate times on that walk. Each prayer was for a long period of time followed by just walking and very little thinking. I wasn't so much asking for things in these prayers as I was just talking and expressing my hopes, concerns and dreams. Some might say I was talking to myself, and maybe that's what part of prayer is. The point is this experience away from church put me in tune with the divine more than church ever does. It was the salve for a tired-churched out guy.

Questioning Faith

Every "believer" has their doubts. I can't imagine my own faith existing without some level of doubt - a yin of doubt for the yang of belief. My first faith crisis was the hardest. At school I was confronted with rumors, questions and debates about the nature of belief. I was troubled but the fact remained that I still wanted to believe.

In the winter of 1984, my family spent Christmas Eve in my grandparent’s house. I spent the night in their spare bedroom, surrounded by my grandmother's sewing accessories and my grandfather's CB radio equipment. My parents had reasonable Christmas morning expectations. My sister and I could go through our stockings first thing in the morning but we were under strict orders to not open anything else until they were awake.

Of course I scampered out of bed before sunrise to check out the coveted loot. Once back into the guest room I quickly poured out the stocking’s treasures onto the bed. There was the requisite candy and other small items, but two toys stood above the rest: two small Transformers action figures (Brawn & WindCharger for those scoring at home).

Gotta love the internet - punch this into Google images and bang - I got a visual.

Suddenly, it all came crashing down.

The two packages were cut with scissors, so they could fit into the stocking. Each of the packages had two pathetic, half-heartily “Toys R Us” tags torn off. I sat on the bed staring at the packages. Although I had already begun to deconstruct the paradox of “Santa’s Workshop” (the elves made Masters of the Universe figures?) - staring at the packages confirmed my doubts - Santa was a lie. I started to create excuses to believe but nothing stuck.

In a few hours my parents would wake up and ask what Santa brought. I played the game that morning, I was too embarrassed by the whole situation to say anything. Quietly, my faith in Santa had died but I managed to fake it for a few more years.

I’m still not that much different than my seven-year old self. I find the packaging for God lacking but I still desire, yes, even yearn to believe. I want to live in a world that has meaning. Not the existential kind of meaning that we create to get by. I want meaning that reveals ultimate truth; the transcendent kind of meaning.

I still want to believe.