I Am So Moron!

It was the end of a long day. I was tired. I tried to hand the cashier the giftcard, and he was like, "Swipe it in the machine." And I was like, "Oh, yeah ..." They gave me my food--I didn't think to ask for ketchup--I sat down and thought to myself, "I am so moron!" and then was like, "what the heck--I really thought that, didn't I? I really am moron."

But you know what really makes me feel stupid? Trying to learn Spanish. Oh my gosh, I feel utterly imbecilic when people try to talk to me, and I'm just like, "Uh ... uh ... uh ..." Not only is my vocabulary small, not only is the audial processing unit of my brain apparently about as quick as the old Tandy 500, but I just get so ridiculously anxious--my brain freezes up completely--even phrases I ought to recognize turn into terrifyingly meaningless syllables, demanding some sort of a response that I simply do not have the capacity to produce.

I think maybe it's because I keep expecting myself to just learn the entire language instantly, and I'm so ashamed of this terrible deficiency (I mean, I grew up in L.A.! Such ignorance is utterly disgraceful!), especially because it's such an easy language to learn. I mean, I don't feel nearly so bad about my Arabic skills having dropped off.

Anyway, it's very discouraging, but I suppose I need to just keep trying to teach myself. It sure is a heck of an intimidating lot of work, though. When I started my church internship, I was all excited about re-learning some Spanish (I took two courses at LACC a million years ago) but I was not anticipating it would be less of a cognitive than an emotional struggle. I guess that's just what sucks about being me: my stupid overreacting, dramatic, sensitive spirit is just always paralyzing me with its irrational freaking out. I am so moron ...

"The Doctrine of Substituted Love"

I believe it was during our engagement that Brandon and I vacationed with his family at Lake Chelan in Washington. One day, we went out in a canoe, and I think we started out rowing together. But pretty soon I insisted that only one of us should row at a time, so that the other could sit back and enjoy the ride. And it gave me such pure joy to be rowing and rowing away--I didn't mind at all that I had to be so focused on rowing, I could not appreciate the peace and beauty of the lake, the gentle movement of the boat across the water--because I knew someone else was doing it--and I was helping to make it possible for him to enjoy.

I've been thinking about egolessness lately. I've mentioned before my previous irritation with the concept (in short, cogito ergo sum cannot logically be denied). Someday soon I will write more extensively on the subject. But for the moment: I think there is a kind of egolessness which makes it possible to share in another's joy as if it were one's own--a kind of self-forgetfulness, a cessation of one's habitual preoccupation with self and personal possessiveness.

I have always been more skeptical about the possibility of sharing another's pain. Particularly, the idea worked out in Descent Into Hell by Charles Williams (from which I got the title for this post). Perhaps it just seems too good to be true that I could really bear some pain on another's behalf, such that their burden would be lessened. But perhaps ... perhaps it is possible.

And I wonder if there is a greater requirement of egolessness not on the part of the person who is taking on the pain, but on the part of the person who gives it up. Perhaps it is even more difficult for the suffering individual to stop saying "my pain, my cross, my suffering," and allow another to bear it for them.

This thought seems unfinished, but I've been kind of stuck here with it for the past few months. I've had time to reflect on the idea during my time as a chaplain intern at Children's Hospital, but my thoughts never seem to have gotten past this point ...

On Humankind's Tyrannical Oppression of the Canine Class

My brother was telling me the other day about a place in Siberia where they breed foxes according to their friendliness toward humans, and have thereby domesticated these lovely wild animals (which apparently you can purchase, if you really want). But the interesting thing is that the Siberian researchers were apparently (without knowing it) selecting for a kind of enduring juvenility. The friendlier foxes retained more puppyish behaviors and physical characteristics. So, to grossly oversimplify: domesticated dogs are friendly toward humans because we have bred them to be stuck in a sort of perpetual childhood dependency.

As someone who has thoroughly bought into certain aspects of liberation theology, and as a hyper-rationalist so open-minded I sometimes believe (at least for a brief time) things that others would immediately reject as ridiculous, my initial reaction to this revelation was: Oh my gosh! How horrible! For hundreds of thousands of years, we've been depriving an entire species of its natural right to grow into autonomous adulthood. We've been stunting their emotional and physical growth to keep them beholden to ourselves. How sick and wrong!

But then I got to thinking about an idea from C.S. Lewis (and if I had my copy of The Problem of Pain, I would look it up--I suspect it's in there). I believe Lewis said something like, that domesticated creatures become something more than animals through their relationship with human beings. That animals attain to a higher form of love in relationship with humans than they could have if they had remained in the wild.

The spectre of Peter Singer is still hovering over me, disgusted by such gross "species-ism." But on second thought, I can dismiss that truly ridiculous shade by answering its taunt of "Who says human love is better than canine love?" with a simple, "Everyone but you, Peter."

So anyway, I think this is a helpful lesson for anyone who has struggled with the question of how a truly loving God could want to keep us dependent, as perpetual "children," rather than holding up autonomous adulthood as the ideal. As dogs become more "human" through their childlike dependency on humans, so may we become more "divine" through submission to our Creator.

Fun Movies! And Political Reflections

Sometimes I feel like I'm overly critical of movies in general. I think that's because certain movies get really hyped up for some reason, and I just don't see why. Like Slumdog Millionaire. Or Inception. Or Crash. Although Crash, in my opinion, is not even a "good" movie, much less worthy of being named "Best Picture" of 2005. (Oh, those ridiculous judges!)

But anyway, oftentimes, I do very much enjoy a good, fun frivolous film. We watched two this past weekend:

Night Train to Munich (1940): Often overlooked, perceived as derivative of The Lady Vanishes (1939), this WWII espionage thriller is simply delightful. I have not seen The Lady Vanishes, but if it's anything like Hitchcock's other films, I'm sure Night Train to Munich is a great deal more humorous and lighthearted. Which I would imagine to be an improvement.

Tron (1982): Such an odd film! The visuals, the story, the dialogue--they're just so ... interesting. Solid storytelling, acting, character development--all the elements of a pretty good movie--with the added element of novelty.

Tron is especially interesting from a theological viewpoint because the citizens of the digital world, personified computer programs, regard their programmers ("users") as deities. Programmer Kevin Flynn, having been transported into the digital world in the likeness of a program, becomes a Christ figure of sorts.

A fun moment that stuck with me was when one of the programs, named Tron, discovers that Flynn, who has been assisting him in his mission, is actually a "user" (i.e. a god). Tron exclaims that this must mean everything Flynn has been doing was according to a greater plan. Flynn shakes his head and says no, actually, users, just like programs, are often just going along, trying to do their best, without an overarching plan in mind.

While I don't think this insight can appropriately be applied to God (I have a high, Calvinistic view of Providence), it's very apt with relation to human authorities. However much people may complain about the way the country is run, for the most part, here in the U.S. we have a sense that the people in charge, though they make some mistakes, generally know what they're doing (or at least we think that of whatever political party we support).

But I'm pretty sure that in reality, the people at the top don't know what they're doing. And I've always found that very disheartening. So I liked that moment in Tron, because it wasn't a terrifying, depressing revelation to the programs--merely surprising. I guess it's okay to find out that that's the way things are; we can still work with that.

Perhaps the real difference it makes, knowing that politicians are just as stupid and incompetent as regular people, is that it means it's our responsibility as citizens to work with them, alongside them, helping them in whatever way we can--rather than looking to them to fix everything and handing them the blame when things go badly.

That is, instead of being angry at politicians, especially those in the White House, we should have compassion on them, because they have one fucking hell of a job, and we would probably not do so well at it ourselves, despite the best of intentions. Perhaps if we could be inspired with pity for all the stupid, incompetent politicians, we would more willingly try to do something to help, rather than just complaining all the time.

Inception: Know What You're In For

I had been told in advance that Inception is "not mind-bending," but still "very well done." Although I think that's a fair estimation, I was still disappointed; I was expecting something in the genre of, say, (one of my favorite movies) Memento--a film driven by a creative, clever plot. But I'm afraid Inception is really just an action movie with a fun premise.

I suppose the plot is uncommonly smart and original, for an action movie. But I'm not a huge fan of action movies. I don't like having to overlook contrived plot devices and apparent lapses in logic. The "contrived plot devices" part bothered me most. The "rules" of entering someone's dream have nothing to do with what dreams are actually like. For example, in Inception, if you die in a dream, it causes you to wake up. This makes for a good plot device, but it does not at all correspond to my experience of dreaming. If I die in a dream I might wake up, or the dream might change to something else, or my vision might go black and I would be thinking to myself it's not so bad being dead. Or the dream might rewind five seconds and then as it replays, I avoid getting killed after all.

The dream world in Inception operates according to very strict rules--which, again, is useful to the author of the script--but as a result, the "dream" sequences are really not that dreamlike; they're much too coherent--and some of the rules of the dream world are just plain silly.

Although I would highly recommend Inception to action movie fans, if you want an artful exploration of the fascinating idea of entering someone else's dream, check out Paprika instead.

'Tis the Season

On my way to the train station, I walked past two men shouting angrily at each other:

"--CUZ I'M GOING TO PRISON!!!"
"WHY THE F--- YOU WANT TO KNOCK SOMEBODY UP?!"
"I'M MAD, CUZ I'M GOING TO PRISON, I WANNA HURT SOMEBODY!"
"F--- YEAH YOU GOIN' TO PRISON, I'LL TAKE YOU TO PRISON--"

Continuing on my journey, I eventually got off the subway. Again, I heard a man's voice screaming enragedly. Some Asian dude was kicking a white guy out of his convenience store: "NEVER SAY THAT KIND OF THING IN HERE AGAIN! GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!"

The next day, on the train again, a young boy was wailing. His mother told him to shut up. He kept crying. She tried ignoring him. He just kept sobbing, louder and louder. Mom starts losing her temper, angrily ordering the boy to shut his mouth. She tries grabbing him and muffling him with her arm--he gets louder, and louder--I shut my eyes, thinking, "The holiday season is officially upon us. People freaking out left and right." And then--suddenly, it's quiet.

I look up, and there's this woman--just another passenger--and she's giving that young man a good talkin' to. She's calm, speaking quietly, but with authority. Everyone around is gaping in awe and wonder. That screaming little boy has turned into a perfect angel. People are laughing with relief and delight. "Can you come over to my house--to live?" more than one onlooker asks.

Blessed are the peacemakers. We could use a few more in the world, to say the least.

octopus balloon story

My sister recounted this vignette, told originally in her Plants and the Environment class at Pepperdine: the professor of this class has a young son (about three years old) who one day saw a shiny metallic balloon, shaped like an octopus, and begged his mother to buy it for him. She was reluctant but eventually gave in. Little boy enjoys balloon, until it slips from his grasp and floats away into the sky. Little boy cries and cries. His mother tries to console him, saying, it was only a balloon. "But Mom," he weeps, "the fish are gonna die!"

In the words of my other sister, "That's one awesome little kid."