a festive reception

and after the heat
the welcome cool
of autumn brings
a final burst of brightness
the happy ending
for green leaves saying farewell
with cheerful shouts of red and gold
a fond goodbye that looks ahead
not fearing dark and cold
a festive reception
of the arriving chill

The Constant Commentator

This evening we returned home after quite the trip, touring western Washington with my brother and his wife. Brandon served as our intrepid and expert guide, being himself a native of the sprawling megalopolis, Duvall, WA (population: a staggering 5,980); Brandon's family were our charming inkeepers; my sister-in-law, N., our brilliant tactician; myself a quiet, functionless parasite now turned chronicler; and my brother, P. ...

My mother said recently of P. that he cannot stop talking, to which he immediately replied, "I know. I tried; it didn't work!" Having him along on a roadtrip is like having the radio always on and tuned to a consistently amusing comedy show.

Driving around Whidbey Island and nearby areas, after every stop, we seemed to find ourselves behind the same car. "They must be tourists," said Brandon, the ironically disdainful local. "No," said P., "there are four of them." We were all confused as he paused before the punchline: "They must be four-ists."

A little farther on, Nancy pointed out some cows, and a bull who was a little ways off, alone. P.: "He is out standing in his field."

P. works for Enterprise, the rental car company, in their insurance claims division. He was behind the wheel one evening of our trip, telling Brandon about how he sometimes takes over cases from less competent Enterprise employees, correcting the inefficient way they handled the situation. After describing one such situation: "Brandon, this goes to show how awesome I am: insurance companies save money by switching to me."

(-:

Such a fun trip. I have the best siblings (and siblings-in-law) ever.

Failure

[Apologies for the unpolished style--I'm tired, but wanted to post this.]
Sometimes I have an intense feeling of failure, even after doing things no one else perceives as failures. I think probably I did well on each of the three-hour ordination exams I took today, in terms of whether I'll pass, that is.

But I was so disappointed in myself because ... I wanted all six essays to be beautifully written, egaging, powerful, edifying and a pleasure to read. And instead, much of what I wrote was just so humdrum and rote, bland and boring, boring, boring. I was proud of just a few lines, here and there--but even the best bits could have been better, if only I'd had more time. In particular, one of those essays was so terrible. I mean, I answered the prompt, but I wish I could apologize to the people who have to actually read what I wrote, it's so insipid and lifeless. Oh, damn my miserable inadequacies!

Anyway, this is a good illustration of how so often I fail in my own mind, even though ... well, probably no one else expects so much of me.

Ah ... maybe I'll do better on the next two exams. Maybe if I really punish myself thoroughly for doing so bad this time, and mentally berate myself constantly ... Hah ha ha. Just kidding. (-: I'm too wiped out for that, anyway.

Psychological Profiles in Film

In his book, People of the Lie, M. Scott Peck describes something like a personality disorder he observed in certain clients (or clients' family members) in practice as a psychotherapist. He identifies such people as being given over to evil, noting that their condition resembles a severe variation of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Although otherwise apparently normal, these persons were apparently whole-heartedly selfish in all their decision-making, unconflicted and unashamed about lying constantly in order to advance their own purposes.

The classic movie Bringing Up Baby is about just such an individual. The horrible, horrible female protagonist just lies and lies, without giving it a second thought, not caring at all how her deception is creating confusion and frustration and causing damage all over the place. I found it so distressing, I couldn't stand to watch any more after the first twenty minutes or so. God, I don't know what I'll do if (when?) I have to deal with someone like that as a pastor. Anyway, if you want to know what M. Scott Peck calls "an evil person," just watch that movie.

Now, much more fun ... last night we watched another classic film, Kind Hearts and Coronets. It's one of the best films we've ever seen--and we'd never heard of it before! Crazy. It's a very British dark comedy about a young man's plan to kill off eight relatives (all played brilliantly by Alec Guiness) in order to inherit a dukedom. It was so funny, even after the movie ended, I was still laughing and laughing. They really don't write comedies like that anymore. Today's "smart" comedy is actually pretty dumb by comparison.

And if you want to see how Enneagram Type Three ("The Achiever") becomes a homicidal sociopath, it's a stunning, spot on portrayal.

"Devastating Loss of Self"

While working on a new painting, I've been listening to The Myth of Alzheimer's by Peter J. Whitehouse (with Daniel George) on CD. Whitehouse, a physician, researcher, and authority on the condition, argues that there is no scientific basis for treating Alzheimer's as a disease, and that care for patients would be improved by acknowledging the symptoms of "cognitive brain aging," as he calls it, as a normal part of growing older. Rather than labeling a more rapid decline as pathologically abnormal, we can recognize that every person's progress into older years is unique, and that the challenges of aging, which we all must face, can hold opportunities, as well.

Whitehouse in large part blames the pharmacuetical industry for creating "the myth of Alzheimer's" by talking about waging war on the disease, and the (according to Whitehouse, completely unfounded) hope of a cure. But most of all, the myth of Alzheimer's creates an intense fear and dread (the reason I picked this book up off the shelf). Alzheimer's is said to result in a "devastating loss of self," robbing victims of their very personhood.

According to Whitehouse, this is simply not true. We are constantly changing throughout our lives; loss of cognitive ability does not destroy the self. Perhaps the most important component of treatment for a person in cognitive decline is to focus on the ways they are still able to contribute to society, do the things they have always enjoyed, and accept the loving care of their family members--that is, to continue to see themselves as human persons in the midst of real losses.

 * * * * * * *

The painting is coming along nicely. It's not completed yet, but when I was finished working on it for today, I stepped back to have a look and was disappointed: it was all out of focus--I had to put on my glasses to appreciate it. It was upsetting to me not being able to appreciate my own painting without the aid of corrective lenses.

There are so many things we think we own, or consider to be part of who we are, and it's scary to lose them. Who would I be without my vision, my memories, my intelligence, without the dexterity of my hands, without strength to walk and run?

Some might say we're born into this life with the very purpose of growing old--to learn by divesting ourselves of every external prop that, after all, I am not the clothes I wear or the things I own; I am not even the thoughts I think. Who I really am ...

... is beyond words and comprehension. Because after all, the soul does not exist in and of itself, but exists only by the creative act of God's love. But of such things ... it is extremely difficult to write, especially as a scrupulous Christian theologian ... if only I could commission Charles Williams to write this into a novel! Alas, he has been dead several decades. And, dying at age 58, I suppose he must have missed out on much of the experience of growing old. Well, he was surely an old soul from birth.

Carrotwood

Hm. I miswrote the common name of this tree on my opening card. And I accidentally said "branches" when I meant "limbs." How embarrassing.

Reflections on the Road from Jerusalem to Jericho

A man went up
Jesus said
from Jerusalem to Jericho

Now fifty
seminarians, professors
following the way

This land perhaps
has not changed
much, still a
terrifying place to be left for dead

Zipping along
in our air conditioned
whirlwind tour
bus
it takes about an hour

Can you imagine?
turning from window to seat partner
Walking!
They must have experienced
time so
differently
and space

What would it be like
walking this waste
alone

or with someone to talk to
you might really get to know them

Approaching Jericho
a moment of déjà vu
billboards in the desert
just like the 10 freeway approaching Palm Springs
Then

A camel at a gas station!
Someone snap a photo!

We're here!
Quickly, everyone off the bus!
We're late
We're running out of time

Running out of
the endless expanse?
Didn't you see it there
or were you in too much of a hurry
on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho