A Breeze and a Song

Today is a sad day. It’s a morning for praise music and quietness. I have a whole schedule planned out for the next three weeks of this blog. But life has invaded this week.

Yesterday morning at church a friend handed my dad two of those rubber bracelets. They were meant to serve as a reminder to pray for a member of our church family struggling with very aggressive cancer. Just after he handed the bracelets to us my mom lead the band in the song Fail Us Not by 1000 Generations. These words hit me in the gut every time they sing them. In light of what is happening with our friends the Coles and in our own family this week this song has become something of a safety blanket for me. If you’re the praying kind I know our family and the Cole family would greatly appreciate your prayers.

Fail Us Not

Failure doesn’t phase you.
Worry doesn’t win.
Loss doesn’t leave you afraid to start again.
Our sin doesn’t shock you.
Our shame doesn’t shame you at all.
Mistakes do not move you.
Terror doesn’t tame.
Death doesn’t doom you to life in the grave.
Our suffering doesn’t scare you.
Our secrets won’t surprise you at all.
At all.

There is nothing above you.
There is nothing beyond you.
There is nothing that you can’t do.
There is no one beside you.
There is no one that’s like you.
There is nothing that you can’t do.
Whatever will come, we’ll rise above.
You fail us not, You fail us not.
No matter the war, our hope is secure.
You fail us not, You fail us not.
You fail us not.

Hatred doesn’t hide you.
Evil doesn’t ail.
Despair can’t disguise you and tell you that you fail.
Our doubt doesn’t daunt you.
Our darkness won’t defeat you at all.
At all.

There is nothing above you.
There is nothing beyond you.
There is nothing that you can’t do.
Whatever will come, we’ll rise above.
You fail us not, You fail us not.
No matter the war, our hope is secure.
You fail us not, You fail us not.
Whatever will come, we’ll rise above.
You fail us not, You fail us not.
No, You fail us not.
You fail us not.

You fail us not.

RVs and Mindless drones

One day I will fly one of these

 

A few years ago I learned about this group of retired Methodists called NOMADS, who are probably the coolest people I’ve ever heard of. After hearing about them my dream of one day having my own RV/Camper was born. But I want to do it in my 20s, or basically for the rest of my life. With the housing crash of the “oughts” my desire to ever own a home faded and I plan on pretty much always living in an RV, teaching my (eventual) kids that from the Keys to the tip of Oregon State and everything between is their backyard. It may be a little optimistic, but hey, I’m a dreamer.

The reality of living in a motor-home vehicle may be just a little bit trickier than I imagine. Especially considering my penchant for running out of gas, forgetting to get oil changes, and not having the best track record when it comes to basic cars. Max, who has been a friend of mine for about two years and has witnessed some of these more ridiculous vehicle issues, reminded me that even if I ran the dreamed- of-VW bus on corn diesel I would still have to make sure it had enough.He declared himself part of the “RV dream” so that I don’t wind up in backwoods Georgia without gas, talking to a person who speaks “Georgian” (a dialect of Max’s imagination which sounds something like Muttley ) who would suggest that deer eat vegetables so deer jerky is just fine for vegetarians to eat. Later in the day Max made a sort of off-handed, frustrated comment about not wanting to join the ranks of Corporate America. Sounding a bit like Muttley himself he muttered something about losing his soul in an office building.

I could chase rabbit trails in my mind forever with all the connections I make in moments like this. But I found it startling when in my 19th Century British Novel course I found this description of the Victorian working class: “If there was ever a time when the English masses approached a state of downright bestiality, it was then.”

I expect that you’re all good students of Victorian history, but just in case you’re not, here’s why Mr. Richard Altick would describe them in such a way: essentially the Industrial Revolution destabilized the centuries of unchanged cultural centers in a way that can only be described as “rapidly”. In order to find jobs men, women, and their families moved from towns to ramshackle urban tenements and lost most of their sense of individuality and worth in the 16 hour work days in dim, poorly ventilated factories.

Now, rapid change is something that we of the iPod generation are very familiar with. But for the Victorians a jump from travel at 10 mph via horse drawn coach to 35 mph by steam train caused some to declare moving at that speed dangerous to one’s health. It’s quaint to think about now, sure, and watching Pride & Prejudice (no matter the version) inspires feelings of nostalgia. Yet, these dear, “quaint” Victorians were really the first group to experience a modern age. Along with steam power came all sorts of feelings of disillusionment, purposelessness, and life expectancy of only the early-mid 20s for the average working man. (Guys, in Victorian England, I would likely already be dead, and probably leaving behind some 3 or 4 orphans.)

Granted, life expectancy, working conditions, and housing have improved some. But the feelings of disenfranchisement, disillusionment, and loss of personal identity have only increased. Modern man has developed psychosis of losing himself within the machines he created to ease his workload. We consider it slightly absurd and comical when an undergrad says their life is over because their computer has crashed along with their “entire life,” (not to mention the addictive nature of Smartphones that gets them dubbed things like “crackberry”), but it isn’t comical. It’s desperately pathetic.

And here we find Thoreau, who 156 years ago created one of my favorite melancholy quotes, “The mass of men lead quiet lives of desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” Not much has changed in 156 years my  dear, quaint Victorian. But I will be different. And now thanks to Michael I plan on living long enough to have an airbus or blimp.

All Things for All People

I was introduced to the phrase “all things for all people” about ten years ago in the auditorium of Covenant College up on a mountain in Tennessee. It wasn’t just a phrase, it was the name of the drama team that was part of the Student Life camp. They really were a little bit of everything: planned comedy in the mornings, serious drama at night, improv during the late night blitz… literally, all things.

Three years ago, when I worked with Student Life I spent a lot of time with the AT2AP actors. They are still some of the most diversely talented people I know. It blew my mind to watch them perform essentially the same things for 12 weeks and bring a level of energy and freshness to each performance. I consider myself a sort of artistic kid and I could appreciate the doors they opened for some of the students to be captured by the message. I know at 14 it was often the drama troupe that spoke more to me… though Wade Davis was a wonderful speaker and I did learn a lot from him as well.

This morning I was spending some time in thought. I’m not sure what that’s like for other people, since I can’t really get into other people’s brains, but for me it’s sort of like wandering through a knick-knack shop filled with all sorts of objects. These objects can range from the things going on in my life, to things I’ve learned recently,  or weird factoids that have gotten caught in my mind, and odd things I’ve imagined that need a home. Contemplation is sort of like wandering through the shop picking up various things until I find one I want to spend some time with.

Today’s object was a conversation I had with a dear friend named Chelsea who recently told me about two very popular food companies that use their resources to fund nefarious projects. If I remember correctly one of our favourite Hummus brands funds the Pakistanis’ fighting effort and a popular fast food chain uses their resources to fund legislation that negatively affects human rights. She was telling me that though she thinks one person abstaining from these two companies will hardly be felt by them it’s something she has to do. It’s called personal integrity, and I’m a fan of it, which I told her.

Since that conversation I’ve been faced with what I will do with this information. I probably won’t buy Sabra hummus anymore. I don’t want to consciously put my money into the hands of someone running a war (I can’t really avoid taxes, though, so there’s that). And if I continue to live a vegetarian lifestyle then I won’t have much cause to go to that fast food restaurant. But it’s more a convenient avoidance than a conscious decision to no longer support them.

The thing is, most places aren’t just what they appear on the  surface; a hummus brand isn’t just a hummus brand, a convenient store isn’t just a convenient store. Sometimes they’re very bad for America, or the family unit, or the collective self-image of teenagers. There are many stores and aspects of our consumer driven society that are much more devious just past the shiny veneer of their first layer. Most days it’s easy to glide along, pretending we’re blissfully unaware of this devious nature. But then something is illuminated, and that “blissful ignorance” is interrupted and a decision must be made. No longer can you be all things to all people. Sometimes you can only be some things for some people.

Today, I will attempt to be an advocate for someone with less rights and resources than me, because were our positions reversed I would hope they would extend the same courtesy. And that’s all I can really do.

 

01.11.11 EDIT: upon suggestion I looked more into the hummus situation. Turns out I was incorrect about which country/fighting effort Sabra was funding. Silly me for not fact checking before word-vomiting. Turns out Sabra supports the “infrastructure of occupation” or two elite branches of the Israeli military that have some shady dealings with the West Bank and have been charged with abusing Palestinian rights. Which, you know brings a whole new level of concern to the whole thing for me. And more contemplation. Here’s something about the boycott and here’s a snapshot of  Sabra’s website from October 31, 2010.

What I said about not wanting to fund a war holds true for not wanting to fund infringement on human rights. I have more control over the things I buy than I do how my taxes are appropriated. Sabra is an Israeli company supporting their own military… sort of like Starbucks and our soldiers. It’s a tricky business. And learning more about this after publishing this post is a good lesson in looking further into issues before creating an opinion.

I will continue to attempt to be an advocate for someone in hopes that were our roles reversed they would do the same for me.