Go west young man! (Or... east?)

An old high school math teacher of mine (calculus, to be specific) used to say to us, his oft bewildered students, "It's intuitively obvious to the most casual observer!"  Of course, it rarely was. Well, in a blogging stunt as baffling perhaps as hyperbolic trig, I named this page "West of California," while simultaneously moving from Seattle to Toronto.  I figured I better explain myself. The title I mean, not the move. The move was for love. Obviously!

The words "west of California" were spoken to me by a friend several years ago, when I lived near Los Angeles.  About 2003 I recollect.  It was a church event. He was postulating (or rather, something like modern day prophesying) about my future post-seminary, and apparently - post-California.  Well, in the immediate I ended up shooting straight north to WA in 2006 to be back near the family.  Yet, somehow the phrase resonated.  And it continues to intrigue me, capturing something I am still trying to discover.  Let me explain.. if I can.  

As a history student at Western Washington University, I was firmly introduced to the storied (fabled?) march of western progress, from the Enlightenment, to the Age of Exploration, New World discoveries, the Westward Movement, and the romance of Manifest Destiny. Of course, long before I cracked a college text, the whole thing had been deconstructed, doubted, even scorned. And for good reasons.  However, that's not my concern here - to add to the denigration of Columbus Day. But rather to acknowledge something mysterious and dynamic at the core of human experience, history and, if I dare say, human being-ness. Something that drives us, keeps us moving.  Keeps us learning, exploring, discovering. America itself is just one example.


We are always pushing the limits, going beyond.  Science, philosophy, art, invention, business, culture, and of course geographical expansion - all testify to this deep drive in us as a collective, and as individuals.  But we have reached an interesting era, or stage if you will. Fountains of youth, gold rushes, opportunities and frontiers have lured us west (in the West); but now we've come so far we've run smack into the East.  Instead of new frontiers, we have the "the last Frontier" - Alaska, I think. Well and we have the internet.  Point is.. where do we go from here?  What's "west of California"?  2001 has long since past, but the oydessy continues.  And we are still searching.

So, this blog is titled out of a fascination with this inexhaustible and universal human journey - destination yet unknown.  But it is also an individual adventure for each of us.  And so while I want to touch on, reflect on and explore broader topics from life and culture, I also want to share some of my personal reflections and individual experiences along the way, the path of my own discoveries.  I suppose I blame it on my bit of American "rugged individualism" or my white European thirst to explore (both remind me of my grandfather John); perhaps too it's my educator-geared mindset of a mind that's always restless for more, or my theologically impassioned spirit that tends to keep believing, keep hoping and keep looking for true self in the Other.

Whatever it is, this page is about adventure.  Mine and ours.  It's about stories, and a Story, not just facts.  About movement, not stagnation. About discovery.  And hopefully, about growing.  Here I am now in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.  Who would have predicted that a year ago, eh??  That's the beauty of it.

What will it continue to look like "West of California" - for me, for us, for all?  Who knows, but I know this:  It wasn't over when Israel reached the Promised Land. So let's keep moving, discovering, and "sharing our thoughts along the way."

No Manifest

Somewhere west of California
Life keeps marching on.
Where are we going? 
Why? 
  
“Time will tell," they say.

Meanwhile time and life and we all move
And look for clues;
And share our thoughts
Along the way.


(originally posted in March 2012)

The Walking Dead - Part 2 - Good Friday

As the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell on Abram. And behold, dreadful and great darkness fell upon him.  -Genesis 15:12

It's Good Friday night.  One week ago, in preparation for this Easter weekend, I reflected on Zombies.  And I threw in vampires for the fun of it.  Both represent a way we cope with and engage death, I think.  We entertain it (or with it), fantasize it, film produce it, mask ourselves with it, immortalize it - in the undead.  Perhaps many wonder deep down, if death is the only thing that lives forever.

There is a poignant scene in the AMC series which inspired these ramblings (The Walking Dead), where the beleaguered, zombie-haunted survivors come upon a little, white country church in the woods.  They had heard its bells ring, and dashed toward the sound, hoping their lost little girl might be offering a beacon of hope - that she still lived by some miracle.  Yet as they burst through the doors of the old chapel all they found were a few ghastly "walkers."  Well, and there at the center of the front of the sanctuary, was an almost life-size crucifix.  "J.C., you takin' requests?"

The confessional was open. A spark of hope, a glimmer of faith in the dark night of the soul-less. One by one, a few of the survivors bare their desperate hearts gazing at the dying Christ.  Rick, the lead man, has the final prayer:

"I guess you already know I am not much of a believer.  I guess I just chose to put my faith elsewhere.  In family mostly.  My friends. (Sigh) My job.  "I could use a little something to help.. keep us going. ... Some kind of indication I am doing the right thing. You don't know how hard that is to know! (Pauses, looking up at Jesus.) Well, maybe you DO."

Amazing what kind of prayer a zombie apocalypse can elicit.  Real. Doubt-ridden. A gasping for help. A desperate dependency.  There comes a point when family, friends.. job... self.. are not enough.  Life, and death, can leave us hanging.  Like Christ on the tree.  "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me??"  

Not all among the survivors want to continue to survive. There is an interesting sub-theme revolving around despair, opting out, and the freedom to do so.  In The Courage To Be, Paul Tillich talks about the "courage of despair" being a hallmark of a our modern age, where God has been lost and the "anxiety of doubt and meaningless is... the anxiety of our period."  His description of modern art's way of expressing this angst of meaninglessness is eerily familiar: "spatial dimensions are reduced or dissolved into a horrifying infinity. The organic structures of life are cut into pieces which are arbitrarily.. recomposed. Limbs are dispersed, colors are separated from their natural carriers."  Sounds like zombie art.

On Good Friday we are brought to the brink.. the abyss.. the face of death.  The inconceivable Cross.  It's Abraham raising his blade in terrible obedience, Jacob wrestling with the angel in the depths of night, Joseph in the pit and the dungeon, Israel enslaved in Egypt then dying of thirst in the wilderness, Job losing all... Jesus the Christ sweating, then shedding, holy blood.  And breathing his last. All is meaningless.

Thus it would seem. Hence Tillich speaks of "absolute faith"  and the only courage that overcomes is courage "rooted in the God who appears when God has disappeared in the anxiety of doubt."  Rick asks for a sign, any sign.  It's Friday, "and there was darkness over the whole land... the sun's light failed." (Luke 23:44-45)  God is dead. Could God possibly appear?  The disciples scatter and hide. The "infected" survivors run for their lives.  We, in our age, are arrested by doubt and death.  All the things we've put our faith in are stripped and exposed - on a Cross, on a hill, on a Friday.

Will God appear.... on Sunday?   

,

The Walking Dead - Part 1 - "We're all infected."

I never jumped on the whole Harry Potter collective broomstick.  I know, what kind of educator am I?? Then came the vampire renaissance (another), with bloody teenage hearts throbbing everywhere, and mecca became Forks, WA.   The end of the world as we know it.  Forks.  And technically, it might be west of California.

But then came ZOMBIES. Not that they ever really go away, but they got trendy again.  I admit my chronology is somewhat manufactured.  Still: "Left for Dead" billboards (shout out to Bellevue, WA).  Shaun of the Dead is a classic. Zombieland, 12 Days Later.  Another 12 Days Later.  One day last summer "zombie apocalypse" hit downtown Seattle.  There were zombie-fied people everywhere, and it wasn't Halloween. I think I heard it started in Fremont. Not too shocking. Fortunately, there were no naked zombie sightings.

The whole Zombie fascination captures me.  I am "infected."  When I was sick recently, I watched  all of The Walking Dead season 2.  It didn't help me feel better, but you know what they say about misery and company.  Moral:  It could be worse.

Zombies are an interesting contrast with vampires.  Vampires got all sexy thanks to Ann Rice and Brad Pitt, but that probably wasn't new.  Zombies, however, are NOT sexy.  Vampires shape-shift, talk in alluring voices, are super strong despite being dead.  Zombies are super strong when there is a mass hoard of them pushing through a fence or barn door. And they are not attractive.  The main thing they have in common, vampires and zombies: they're DEAD. Or UN-dead.  Well, and they like to bite humans - zombies, a lot less romantically though.

This is all by way of introduction - this whole post.  There really is going to be some meat here eventually (in case you're "infected," or just on a Paleo diet.)  It's one week exactly from Good Friday.  The Walking Dead  series reminded me of the interesting and artful ways that our deeply ingrained human anxiety about death has outlets in the culture and media. Good art asks and evokes good questions. And it often makes profound statements.  And so, I want to start this brief Easter series of reflections with one of the last lines of The Walking Dead, season 2.  (I don't think think this qualifies as a "spoiler alert.")  Rick says to the group, those still alive and on the run:
"WE ARE ALL INFECTED."

It's true, isn't it? About death. And we know it, despite distraction and denial. Paul Tillich addresses the modern problem of anxiety and fear and it's relation to death, and courage, in The Courage to Be.  More on that next time.  For now, it's worth thinking about this, one week before Good Friday...  Are we all infected?  All walking dead? 

And Jesus said to him, “Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead.” (Matt. 8:22)

No Manifest

Somewhere west of California
Life keeps marching on.
Where are we going? 
Why? 
  
“Time will tell," they say.

Meanwhile time and life and we all move
And look for clues;
And share our thoughts
Along the way.