"Nothing is so perfectly amusing as a total change of ideas." - Laurence Sterne
Last night I had the opportunity to over hear two of my favorite people tear into each other about The Fall of Man, Free will, sin, and God's intentions or plan regarding all of these. It wasn't intended to be entertaining or amusing. And I probably shouldn't have even been there to listen. But I was. And it was amazing. Even if I did have an opinion on the subject, there was no way I was about to chime in. This wasn't for me. I sat there smiling the entire time. At times I had to laugh. It was the highlight of my evening. Both of these gentlemen were so set in their beliefs... each saying that they were open to hear the other's side... each trying to change the idea of the other... turns out only one of them actually was open to hearing another's opinion, the other was still beyond stubborn.
Debate used to stress me out. Certain topics still do. It might even have to do with who is debating. It's funny that moment you begin to doubt yourself. That moment when the paradigm shifts. It's awkward to admit you may have been wrong. And still freeing. I'm not good with the words. I have a hard time debating. But this evening was so incredibly enjoyable. I could listen to these boys talk all day. They make me think. They make me laugh. Both of these are appreciated.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Craving Closeness
Waving Goodbye
by Wesley McNair
Why, when we say goodbye
at the end of an evening, do we deny
we are saying it at all, as in We'll
be seeing you, or I'll call, or Stop in,
somebody's always at home? Meanwhile, our friends,
telling us the same things, go on disappearing
beyond the porch light into the space
which except for a moment here or there
is always between us, no matter what we do.
Waving goodbye, of course, is what happens
when the space gets too large
for words – a gesture so innocent
and lonely, it could make a person weep
for days. Think of the hundreds of unknown
voyagers in the old, fluttering newsreel
patting and stroking the growing distance
between their nameless ship and the port
they are leaving, as if to promise I'll always
remember, and just as urgently, Always
remember me. It is loneliness, too,
that makes the neighbor down the road lift
two fingers up from his steering wheel as he passes
day after day on his way to work in the hello
that turns into goodbye? What can our own raised
fingers to for him, locked in his masculine
purposes and speeding away inside the glass?
How can our waving wipe away the reflex
so deep in the woman next door to smile
and wave on her way into her house with the mail,
we'll never know if she is happy
or sad or lost? It can't. Yet in that moment
before she and all the others and we ourselves
turn back to our disparate lives, how
extraordinary it is that we make this small flag
with our hands to show the closeness we wish for
in spite of what pulls us apart again
and again: the porch light snapping off,
the car picking its way down the road through the dark.
After a friend of mine sent this to me I probably read it every single day for two weeks.... some days more than once. I don't know why really. I mean... I really do like it, but it still is completely sad, and brutally honest. I think it hits me hard because, if I'm being honest in return... I am that person that waves as if to say "just as urgently, Always remember me.". I do the same thing with letters, emails, cards, calls, whatever. I mean, half of it is to make the person smile knowing I was thinking of them, and actually, it may be less than half the reason sometimes. 'Cause the rest of the reason is ... Think of me please. Is that too honest? I mean, of course, that's not the reason every single time. It's selfish. I know. We crave closeness. That's all.
by Wesley McNair
Why, when we say goodbye
at the end of an evening, do we deny
we are saying it at all, as in We'll
be seeing you, or I'll call, or Stop in,
somebody's always at home? Meanwhile, our friends,
telling us the same things, go on disappearing
beyond the porch light into the space
which except for a moment here or there
is always between us, no matter what we do.
Waving goodbye, of course, is what happens
when the space gets too large
for words – a gesture so innocent
and lonely, it could make a person weep
for days. Think of the hundreds of unknown
voyagers in the old, fluttering newsreel
patting and stroking the growing distance
between their nameless ship and the port
they are leaving, as if to promise I'll always
remember, and just as urgently, Always
remember me. It is loneliness, too,
that makes the neighbor down the road lift
two fingers up from his steering wheel as he passes
day after day on his way to work in the hello
that turns into goodbye? What can our own raised
fingers to for him, locked in his masculine
purposes and speeding away inside the glass?
How can our waving wipe away the reflex
so deep in the woman next door to smile
and wave on her way into her house with the mail,
we'll never know if she is happy
or sad or lost? It can't. Yet in that moment
before she and all the others and we ourselves
turn back to our disparate lives, how
extraordinary it is that we make this small flag
with our hands to show the closeness we wish for
in spite of what pulls us apart again
and again: the porch light snapping off,
the car picking its way down the road through the dark.
After a friend of mine sent this to me I probably read it every single day for two weeks.... some days more than once. I don't know why really. I mean... I really do like it, but it still is completely sad, and brutally honest. I think it hits me hard because, if I'm being honest in return... I am that person that waves as if to say "just as urgently, Always remember me.". I do the same thing with letters, emails, cards, calls, whatever. I mean, half of it is to make the person smile knowing I was thinking of them, and actually, it may be less than half the reason sometimes. 'Cause the rest of the reason is ... Think of me please. Is that too honest? I mean, of course, that's not the reason every single time. It's selfish. I know. We crave closeness. That's all.
Friday, August 19, 2011
I Will
I don't think you ever learned a thing from me
But I know that you want me to learn from you
And you've drawn heavy-handed lines around morality
About yourself and I don't share your point of view
It's been time to let you go, a thousand times I'll never know
that it hurts to be the one that you'd regret
I have to say that I am proud to know you
And I'll never be the same because we met
You might not miss this
But I will
Brandi Carlile – I Will - Live at Benaroya Hall with The Seattle Symphony
But I know that you want me to learn from you
And you've drawn heavy-handed lines around morality
About yourself and I don't share your point of view
It's been time to let you go, a thousand times I'll never know
that it hurts to be the one that you'd regret
I have to say that I am proud to know you
And I'll never be the same because we met
You might not miss this
But I will
Brandi Carlile – I Will - Live at Benaroya Hall with The Seattle Symphony
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