Oct. 28 - “Hate has no home here” is nonsense.
In his book Missing Out, psychotherapist Adam Phillips reminds us that we choose by exclusion. All selection is the result of rejection. When we love something or someone, it is implied that we desire the preservation of the person or thing admired. Thus, it follows that we would set ourselves against threats to the beloved. The degree of strength by which we set ourselves in opposition is solely determined by the depth of our love. In this sense, it is virtuous to hate that which seeks to harm what is good. The Christian hates sin because it is treason against his King, a violation of his neighbor, and the ruiner of his personal health and joy. Chesterton once wrote, “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
Propagandic slogans that boil down complex socio-political issues into vague moralisms like ‘stand against hate’ and ‘love is love is love’ at best injure our robust cultural conversations. They are unproductive platitudes that sour the richness at the heart of these words, which is, unsurprisingly, the exact function of propaganda. We exercise hate every day, and exercise it we should.
Of course, I know what these statements mean when staked in someone’s front yard. It’s an opposing stance to what one perceives as unfairly leveraged hate against a group or idea. Still, I find the decision to avoid specifics irresponsible and I want more for our dialogue. Sure, it’s difficult to summarize it all into something bumper sticker length (and certainly less provocative), but should we allow sassy quips to be the ushers of our controversial fare? As the issues complexify, the speech about them tends to simplify, which seems to betray more anti-intellectualism on the side of the left than it does on the right (let’s be honest, who’s using this inane rhetoric the most?). These statements arise from a sea of shabby strawman and should reap our ire.
Oct. 29 - On ‘spinning your wheels’
On nights when I’m confronted with unfavorable news or a negative development in a situation already plaguing me with worry, I’m thrown into the worst state of sleep imaginable. Not quite unconscious but not awake, my brain spends the night unproductively mulling. I call it ‘spinning my wheels’. Perhaps some acute manifestation of general anxiety or the product of little food and too much caffeine, roadrunner and coyote are stuck in a loop and there’s no changing the channel. This hours-long mental anguish inevitably causes me physical distress and I usually spend the next day nursing an emotional hang-over migraine.
Until today, I thought I was the only one who suffered from something like this, and I can’t tell you the level of empathy I felt upon discovering that isn’t true. I wouldn’t wish this turmoil on an enemy because the emotions that accompany it are not just sadness or disappointment. It feels darker than that. Crueler. Like you’re the victim of a bad joke. Again, not even for my enemy would I rejoice over this.
I’m wondering what remedies might work to soothe this condition. One could suggest the sufferer just get out of bed and distract their mind, but the nature of this trap is that there is no energy to remove oneself. You’re stuck, too exhausted to go lay on the couch and read or watch an episode of something funny.
Maybe a script to recite in the midst of it would be helpful. Something recentering to remind oneself of gravity, the reality of life, God, the situation and how they all stand in comparison to one another.
Here’s where I’d start:
* The strength of this feeling right now is not equal to the reality of the situation
* Shift your thoughts to deciding what you can do about what you can control and ignore the rest
* You don’t belong to you, therefore your desires and disappointments weigh less than if you had been abandoned to yourself.
* You have not been abandoned to yourself. Christ loves you with the love He shares with the Father.
* Despair over a gift or temporal thing pulls the rug out from under our idols- of people, situations, and self. Bless Him as the ruin falls.
Oct. 30 - On Buffet
Today I’m writing to the dulcet sounds of Christian punk band Buffet, a supergroup (maybe just to me) fronted by Utica, NY’s own R. Turner and featuring my new favorite John van Deusen on bass. I had a hard time explaining them to my coworker who asked the question every music lover simultaneously fears and adores: “What are you listening to?”
“Uhh...punk.”
One of my favorite memories with my college clan is a reel of Stephen, Daniel, and I driving to Pittsford from the inner city, listening through R. Turner’s album “The Significance of Being Nothing.” A friend of a friend of Stephen’s knew Ricky and had given him the CD just a few days before. Of all the songs out there about spiritual doubt, “O God, Where Do You Hide” is still one of the sweetest pleas for God’s presence I’ve ever heard. We pulled into the Trader Joe’s parking lot right into the middle of ‘Peter”, Dan vocalizing around the melody from the backseat.
“Peter, drop your sword. What are you doing that for?”
I had yet to drop my sword at that point, fiercely defending my amorphous Jesus caricature from those legalistic fundies with the power of vulgar slam poems. As I was commuting to work this morning, listening to van Deusen’s “(I Am) Origami Pt. 2: Every Power Wide Awake”, I wished I could sing “How Long Will You Wander, My Wayward Daughter” to that 2013 version of me. But she had the Turner record, which convicted and consoled her in its own way.
Buffet is cool. I love how simple the name is and how silly some of the themes are. The “All-American” album is neither a tender R. Turner offering, nor a worshipful van Deusen tapestry, but their energies combine to make a deeply fun set. It’s a blessing to age and grow alongside your favorite creators, to be encouraged and given joy by their work as it changes.
Oct. 31 - On morning walks
I’ve walked myself into and out of numerous things over the years. There are obvious physical benefits to walking, and a few easy-to-guess mental ones too, but for me the greatest positive impacts are a little more complicated.
First, I believe the physical and the mental are intrinsically entwined. When you move your body in a linear direction, your mind is able to think more progressively as well. This prevents any aforementioned spinning of the wheels and keeps the mind thinking forward. Out of the last thing and into the next.
Second, a sort of walker’s high occurs. No matter the level of problem solving needed or the hectic distraction of thoughts bubbling to the surface, eventually one gets to a place where one can accept the world as it is. Not in a solipsistic spirit, but more the absence of pretense and meaning us metaphor-chasers often chew out of everything. A tree is a tree and not a poem. A traffic pattern is just a series of cars, not a scene to be woven into tomorrow’s project. Things are. The hot air leaves my head as my body syncs to the activity. The walk gets me there.
Walking in the morning, then, is my preferred start to the day. Nature has its own slew of beneficial effects, but, truly, morning in the world is wonderful. The best? Within the first ten minutes of waking up. On Saturdays, though, I’ll indulge myself a cup of coffee just for kicks.