That Single Guy at a Marriage Seminar

This is the article that I was fortunate enough to be able to publish in Elevation Church's magazine a few weeks ago. Hope you like it!
-Matt

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Nodding heads. A disarming amount of nodding heads.

My initial interaction with the work of Dr. Emerson Eggerichs was interesting, to say the least. Many soberly nodding heads. Instant agreement. It was like a super power. Anywhere I went, I could simply rehearse the major points of any chapter from whichever Dr. Eggerichs' book that I was currently reading and skeptically petrified heads would instantly bob up and down in unison, as if they had hit a speed bump on the same mental dashboard. While it's possible that I may have abused this newly discovered power (in hindsight, the dramatic wand flourishes and black top hat may have been overkill), I was naively surprised to find that these specific (and therefore paradoxically universal) truths were impacting me just as dramatically.

I was reading Love and Respect as I prepared to interview Dr. Eggerichs for this article. He was scheduled to visit Elevation as a guest speaker and, even though I was newly a writer, I had boldly volunteered to be the literary emissary representing Elevation Magazine. But, to be honest, despite my freshman enthusiasm I was still a little skeptical about reading the book. Why? Well, for starters, I was single. For me, the idea of reading a book on marriage problems was about as appealing as running through white-hot sand without wearing any shoes; just let me get to the beach first, then we'll talk sole ointment. Secondly, I was a single guy. While a single girl might receive a good-natured ribbing for daydreaming about the future, if I was caught reading a red and white striped book called Love and Respect while there was something even remotely manly going on, I was in real danger of having a bonnet duct-taped to my head. Thirdly, I was a single guy with a girlfriend, a sister and a mom. I was convinced: if there was a way to figure out a woman, it was beyond any normal human experience.

Dr. Eggerichs has that experience. I had finished reading his work; as I spoke to him over the phone, his twenty years of experience in church-pastoring and couples-counseling flowed over the conversation and filled in the many cracks that I found I had in my reading comprehension. His message is a simple one, in the vein of simple concepts that are able to slice through misconceptions like butter and completely change the way you act and think; yet this simplicity is at once strongly compelling and inherently frustrating, in that it takes real purposefulness and discipline to engage it. Centering around what he calls “probably the greatest treatises in the New Testament on marriage,” Ephesians 5, Dr. Eggerichs goes against the modern cultural grain in his ardent exhortation of husbands and wives: the summary verse, Ephesians 5:33, says that a husband must love, and a wife must respect.

“So again I say, each man must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.” -Ephesians 5:33

Realizing that while there was no debate on the first part of the verse, Dr. Eggerichs explained to me that the idea of a wife respecting her husband simply because he is a man was one that had gone largely unexplored, despite a clear context in scripture (as you might imagine, the “patriarchal nature” of the sentiment doesn't exactly warm the cockles of most popular political persuasions). But Dr. Eggerichs argues that despite the reactive nature of the idea, this differentiation between love and respect is a key insight to the marriage relationship (and male/female relationships in general).

“A wife has one driving need – to feel loved. When that need is met, she is happy. A husband has one driving need – to feel respected. When that need is met, he is happy.”

I can hear your head nodding. Even to a single guy, it's so obvious... once you see it.

Having spent nearly twenty years as the senior pastor at Trinity Church in East Lansing, Michigan, Dr. Eggerichs counseled an innumerable amount of couples, listening closely to their issues. After identifying the love/respect difference and finding the funding for a full academic exploration of the topic to be politically verboten, he created Love and Respect Ministries as a means by which men and women can learn to “decode” one another, using the trove of stories from his experiences to poignantly illustrate the ways that every relationship (even a good one) expresses conflict. Their website, loveandrespect.com, further extends support by providing forums on which couples can have questions answered and can find personal support through difficult times.

As our conversation began to wind down, I became acutely aware of the extent to which my own perspective filtered the way that I interacted with life. I found that my own story was intertwined with the stories of thousands of other relationships around me. That maybe the beach is not the only (or best) starting point for decoding my barefoot walk of respect into one of love. That perhaps a good-natured ribbing might possibly be a transliteration of a duct tape bonnet.

I remember how blessed I am to attend a church like Elevation Church. My perspective might be (quite) limited to that of a single male, but I have constant contact with thousands of other people who have perspectives that can inform and strengthen my own, from wildly varied backgrounds and life-experiences. I have access to amazing small groups that can give me direct personal support. I can sit under wise counsel like Dr. Eggerichs and Pastor Stephen. I have a tireless church staff that is ready to give everything in order to help me figure out this love and life thing. This love and respect and life thing.

As the interview coasted to a close, I caught my reflection in a mirror and noted, with little surprise, that it was nodding, too.

A Case for Improvisation. Prelude: "Truth Transcends"

I will be working against all of my insecurities in this post; I feel it's important to do this, if just for brevity's sake. Therefore, I will try not to qualify much of what I'm going to say with my typical cheeky little quips or excuses/justifications. I am well aware that I'm not qualified whatsoever to make these sorts of claims... I'm positive that anyone with two licks worth of higher education can disprove this in a matter of seconds, but I'm not going to let that stop me from giving it a solid go. I probably should delay this posting to update myself in epistemological philosophy, but instead I'm going to be working off the top of my head on this one... I know, ballsy. Not really... I don't get much traffic from philosophers. And most of them punch like girls.

The purpose for this inquiry is to try and build a case for the acceptance of improvisational comedy as a legitimate art form, an all-encompassing, all-inclusive creative outlet and a unique platform for intellectual inquiry. I believe it to be one of the most exciting things that we (as a society) have stumbled into, and one of the worst utilized. In the status quo, we are taking a supercomputer and using it to make cartoons. This has got to change.

It's pretty important to establish this groundwork before I continue on to some bigger, more important posts that I have in the works. And even though I'm stupidly attempting to capture something that exists somewhere outside of language, or possibly even above knowledge altogether, I hope that it makes some sort of sense, in an elemental sort of way.

I'm going to begin this line of thinking with an assumption: there is an ultimate Truth.

At a very, very basic level, this Truth underlies the nature of everything, not in a Platonic disembodied way, exactly, but in a simple, everyday kind of way... it's just there from the beginning. It's how we can conceptualize anything. In a world that's in a perpetual quantum shift, it's how we can differentiate any one thing from another, from objects, to actions, to emotions, to ideas. Without this Truth everything would be nothing at all... vague enough? Identifying Truth is, at its basic level, a recognition of differences.

I can't resist at least one attempt to clarify... I know I'm breaking my own rules, but I'm worried that I'm coming across a bit too heady so soon in. Maybe it'll help to think of Truth as something like the idea of color. Let's assume, just for the sake of the illustration, that our only sensory input is visual. If everything were the exact same color, we would be completely useless. Blind as bats, we would have no way to tell objects apart. There would be no way to measure distance or length or breadth or anything, or even conceptualize those ideas. Everything would be nothing at all; we would be utterly helpless. Because we have different colors, and shades of the same color, we can tell the difference between one thing and the next. We are freed to live. Now, I'm not saying that there are differences in Truth in the same way that there are differences in color. I'm saying that Truth is the difference between the colors.

So Truth, then, separates dots from the background.

It is this Truth that is the medium for all metaphor. A simple, usable definition of “metaphor” is “understanding one thing in terms of another.” While identifying Truth is at first a recognition of differences, it is also a comparison of the resultant similarities. It's easy enough to see that when you have specific, observable differences, you can begin to group things together. Metaphors (literally meaning “to carry between”) find objects that are inherently dissimilar and find where they are the same.

Truth connects the dots.

Here's another way that metaphor is valuable. It is difficult to identify a new point of information (let's call it a “dot”) without being told where it is. You have to experience it, and that takes a lot of time and, often, random happenstance that is outside your control. Then you have to name it and find its place in your library of references, etc., etc... It's just a lot. [The more I chew on this idea, the more I'm convinced that everything that we learn must, by necessity, be digested in terms of metaphor; meaning, we conceive every new bit of information in the light of what we have previously learned. Perhaps learning, at its heart, is a metaphorical process... which has huge implications on the use of creativity in education.] Metaphor draws lines between known dots. Both are illuminated by the light of the other; we see both in new ways. But even further, lines (by definition) are a solid sequence of dots themselves. In one fell swoop they identify an untold number of new points of information and perspectives (which, perhaps taking the geographical imagery a bit too far, you could think of as “angles of connection between two or more dots”), each which can then connect to others, and so on. A web of connection and reference, each illuminating one another.

So... we have at least two dimensions of revealed Truth established.

First, in our inherent ability to recognize the difference between two objects, actions, values, etc.

Second, in our ability to identify similarities between two seemingly different objects, actions, values, etc,... In recognizing the two things as both different and similar at the same time (but maintaining their autonomy) we find a new aspect or dimension of Truth. A little bit deeper and more profound.

I'll end on this: a third dimension in which Truth works is in our ability to observe ourselves interacting with the first two levels of Truth. We can conceptualize ourselves both inside and outside the process. Take this essay for example. It's attempting to form a connection to the actual process itself, creating all kinds of havoc. It becomes a sort of meta-critical event, somehow floating over the process and reporting on it. Really this seems like something that shouldn't be possible, but it's yet another way for us to make a connection to the over-arching Truth that defines the differentiations to begin with.

All of these facets of Truth are inherent in our nature and are able to be exercised to greater effectiveness through practice and repetition. Being inherent, they were discovered facets and not created ones.

Why do I spend so much time attempting to describe some ambiguous process of evaluation that is an inherent, taken-for-granted part of life? Because ultimately it's important. We are able to become our own metaphors and can compliment, support and illuminate each other. We can consciously take the next step.

And it's just plain awesome to see the amount of complexity in which we live on a moment-to-moment basis. Beautiful, really.

And finally... the reason all of this is here. I was working towards paving a clear-ish road to this concept, which I plan on using to support further conjecture:

If something holds a value of being true, the same structures that make it true are valuable metaphorical assets and are cross-applicable to other disciplines as either support mechanisms or foundations for new exploration.

Specific truth can be cross-applied to specific aspects of specific disciplines.

Universal truth can be cross-applied universally.

Truth transcends.

Blogger Intentionality

"If you aim at nothing, you'll hit it everytime."

I don't know who originally said that. But it doesn't matter.

I've been thinking about the intentionality of this blog site. Why am I blogging? Why should you read it? Why would I want you to read it? Should I want to want you to read it?

Some days I read a lot of blogs. Other days I don't read any at all. I'm hardly a faithful follower of any in particular. So I'm not sure of all the ins and outs of an intentional blog, outside of a professional attempting to bite-size-ify their vast knowledge of something specific.

I think what I do is a little different.

Well, I hope that it is.

I tend to synthesize everything that is going on in my life, both outside and in, and present it in a way that might be interesting to read or remember. Or confirm suspicions of my lunacy. It's cool either way.

Or maybe that's all in hindsight.

I think that philosophy is mostly in hindsight.

Perhaps theology, too.

Maybe intentionality is something to be handled loosely. Like most creative things, to put too much emphasis on the overt "Message" often kills the delicate nature of any beauty it might yield.

And beauty, as we all have experienced at some point or another, often serves to magnify any "Message" tenfold.

Jesus preached outright for a while, then turned to parables.

Did his intentionality change? Hardly.

But in parables everything gets swirled around a bit, and the interplay of culture and story and character and situation reveal different and exciting parts of each other.

May that swirling be my intentionality, too.

My Life as a Poe Hoe

Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio. - Seneca

"Nothing is more hateful to wisdom than excessive cleverness." Just in case you were wondering about that quote. It's my only apology for the horrific title of this post. It's also the epigraph to Poe's "The Purloined Letter." And, according to Wikipedia, Seneca probably didn't even say it. Which might be funny, in an "Edgar, you rogue," sort of way.

As you probably know, in "The Purloined Letter," *spoiler alert* Poe's Dupin solves the mystery of a hidden letter by realizing that it's sitting in the open. *end spoiler alert*

It's a perspective thing.

As usual.

"If it is any point requiring reflection," observed Dupin, as he forbore to enkindle the wick, "we shall examine it to better purpose in the dark."

"That is another of your odd notions," said the Prefect, who had a fashion of calling every thing "odd" that was beyond his comprehension, and thus lived amid an absolute legion of "oddities."

I'm hardly breaking new ground by realizing that I live too far away from where I actually am. Resting on un-gotten laurels. Searching the forgotten corners of life for a meaning. Making simplicity incredibly complicated.

"And what is the difficulty now?" I asked. "Nothing more in the assassination way, I hope?"

"Oh no; nothing of that nature. The fact is, the business is very simple indeed, and I make no doubt that we can manage it sufficiently well ourselves; but then I thought Dupin would like to hear the details of it, because it is so excessively odd."

"Simple and odd," said Dupin.

"Why, yes; and not exactly that, either. The fact is, we have all been a good deal puzzled because the affair is so simple, and yet baffles us altogether."

"Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing which puts you at fault," said my friend.

"What nonsense you do talk!" replied the Prefect, laughing heartily.

"Perhaps the mystery is a little too plain," said Dupin.

"Oh, good heavens! who ever heard of such an idea?"

"A little too self-evident."

"Ha! ha! ha! --ha! ha! ha! --ho! ho! ho!" --roared our visitor, profoundly amused, "oh, Dupin, you will be the death of me yet!"

I forget that effort is not necessarily the engine for satisfaction. That trying so hard to "find the answer" often makes seeing it impossible.

Sometimes you need to relax.

Sometimes you need to have fun.

One thing is for sure: if you get too far ahead of yourself, you will end up falling two steps backwards for every forward step.

It's ok to be a farmer. Farmers have no choice but to do things in order.

Farmers deal with growing things. Growing things take time. They take work.

Farmers don't reap before it's time to harvest. They don't plow through seedlings. They don't plant one seed over another. There's an order to their work cycles.

That's not to say that the process is flat or uni-dimensional.

Farming is not boring. Good farming is diverse. While easier and potentially more lucrative, monocultures end up, ahem, putting all the eggs in one basket. But it's unwise.

I won't get too deep into it. Even though I'm sure you've figured out the obvious comparisons, I'll probably blog on monocultures more later. But for now...

1. Don't look too hard for something that may be in front of you the whole time.
1b. Don't use "exploration" when "realization" is needed.
2. Don't reorganize the cycles. They are in that order for a reason.
3. Give the plants some time to grow. Some things grow slower than others.
3b. Make sure everything is still growing. Dead things don't grow. If need be, prune that sucker.

Möbius Strip

I'm 26 now. Awesome.

I'm tired of prefacing things.

List:

1. Measureless goals are empty dreams.
2. Excellence and elitism hold hands.
2b. Elitism and nepotism hold hands.
3. Direction and progression are not the same.
4. Meditative, present-oriented self-actualization is useful only if you have money.
5. No one seems to differentiate between what God does and what you do under the influence of a God-flavored motivation or strategy.
5b. Are what God does and what you do under a God-flavored motivation equally important?
5c. Why do I feel tricked when I'm told that God won't work unless I do first?

I've been trying my best to lose control, but control is an onion.

Control is an onion shaped like a möbius strip; internal and external, but you still can only get to it from one side at a time.

Losing control is trickier than seizing it.

I've been thinking a lot about trying not to think about everything a lot.

Like a character in a play, only actions that arise out of necessity bring progression to the story. The absence of necessity easily facilitates the absence of action. The absence of action stops any progression, resulting in dissatisfaction. There is no story. Two roads present themselves: passivity and activity. Passivity yields to the inaction... which is an action. One road presents itself: activity, either positive or negative, internal or external. Passivity is an illusion. There is always a story. The absence of satisfaction brings action. Action easily facilitates the awareness of necessity. Like a character in a play, actions that create necessity bring direction to the story.

I've been doing a lot that seems like spinning my wheels.

Seizing control is easier than losing it, but it requires both direction and progression.

Once upon a time a farmer went to market and purchased a fox, a goose, and a bag of beans. On his way home, the farmer came to the bank of a river and hired a boat. But in crossing the river by boat, the farmer could carry only himself and a single one of his purchases - the fox, the goose, or the bag of the beans. If left alone, the fox would eat the goose, and the goose would eat the beans. The farmer's challenge was to carry himself and his purchases to the far bank of the river, leaving each purchase intact. How did he do it?

I've been trying my best to find control, but control is an onion.

Thoughts on Memes: A new obvious

A significant benefit of the media age is a new appreciation for the ways ideas travel. Prior to the internet, it was obvious that ideas spread fastest and furthest by word of mouth. Why? Well, for one, it simply wasn't possible to demonstrate what you meant otherwise. Language was king. The radio, and eventually television, allowed voices to travel to corners of the world that had never been directly exposed to the concerns of the wider populace. We're just now getting accustomed to the exposure (now global), and now we're being forced deal with the fallout: communication has been pushed further than the boundaries of language itself. It has shifted from speech to demonstration.

Technology favors the meme. From cups with strings, to telegraphs, to telephones, to video chats. From oral tradition, to written word, to printed books, to blogging, to vlogging. It could be that tech trends determine the ways that memes are propagated, but it seems more likely that successful trends become successful because they make meme propagation more efficient. Perhaps we have misjudged the active player. Perhaps the meme favors technology.



The obvious has changed.

Permanence v. Impermanence

In an age where digital presence is really the most far-reaching method of creative reach, what is the current value of impermanent media? Something to think about.



There's something truly profound when you find yourself caught up in something happening in front of you. You see things from your own standpoint and not one determined for you by a man dressed in black with a lensed box on his shoulder. A creative act can truly be directed AT you, because you are the one standing smack in front of it. It can be a life-changing experience. It can be something that you'll never forget. You were THERE. You FELT it.

On the other hand, permanent media (such as youtube video, dvd, recorded music, etc... you know what I'm talking about) has a much harder time directly connecting to an audience. Even a video recorded for a specific event can completely miss the mark if the atmosphere isn't right or if something is distracting, etc... it's impersonal and will barrel through even the most hostile of situations, not yielding to the moment. A steamroller whose motto is “Catch as catch can.” To be honest, it thumbs its nose at the individuals watching it, as they have no choice but to engage it on predetermined grounds or miss out on the experience, because nothing they do can change what happens. It's a one-way street.

So from an audience's standpoint, it seems as if the impermanence of an event heightens the creative potential, and often the importance. I know, not a revolutionary thought. It's easy to see how a live event (even if it's a set performance that has happened many times) has its own inherent value. It has an ephemeral quality... now it's here, now it's gone. This will never happen again in the exact way that it just happened, so pay attention. As they say, you can never step in the same river twice. And, for the most part, they are right.

But it may not be so easy an answer, this valuation of impermanence above the rest. In the case of an artist hoping to find an appropriate niche, it's certainly a difficult situation. Does one train (yes, training is an essential part of art... it doesn't just appear out of thin air, thank you) to provide an audience with fleeting art, one that is beautiful for a moment and then is gone? Because here's the deal: a portfolio is a good thing to have. To have a good amount of experience in permanence allows you to be able to provide future employers/agents/managers with evidence of capability. Audience testimony typically doesn't impress a professional. Just sayin'.

So from an artist's standpoint, it seems as if the permanence of an event provides a larger audience and proof of a job well done. The payoff seems much higher for the artist whose niche is in something that will last, meaning the creation of an event that is both reproducible and distributable. Fred is creating an artistic experience that will last longer and impact more people than, say, any artist near you.

Which brings up my final rabbit trail: cultural impact. The scope of culture has gotten too far out of hand to reign back in. The vocabulary of art is now a global one. Whereas the local artist was once able to address local issues to locals, now the global artist is the primary influence. Why? Because he or she is most likely far better as his or her craft than the local artist. And of course they are. They have to be to make it to that point. They are, by definition, better than all the other local artists... insofar as they have mass appeal. But here's the trick (brace yourself... this is a bit muddled): the tastes of the masses to whom they are appealing are now based on the features of those who have attained that mass appeal. Ok... we made it, but that was rough. I'll restate: most people now compare the art that they are viewing to a global standard. Why? Because now everyone has access to it, whether on TV or on the internet. That's all we know. We're not stupid. We want the good stuff if we can get it. But it has created a great gulf fixed between local and global art. In short, this sucks and is stupid. I could go on... there's a pretty good comparison between this and consumerism in general, and it's pretty dead-on with the idea of locally grown food versus the supermarket, but I'll spare you. Yes, yes, you're welcome.

So what should an artist strive for? It's hard to tell. Personally, I think that an impermanent event that comes organically from a community is the most powerful kind of art. It most reflects real life. It elicits the most catharsis; it evokes the greatest power. It's real. And when it can't be reproduced in the same way, there's a possessive value to it; it becomes yours to remember. However... it seems that the map has lost the territory. Culture has created a platform to display the artistic output of the global community, and in return the global artistic output has limited the language of the community to strictly global terms. To fully meet the expectations of the new techno-savvy, globally-aware audience, an artist is forced either to re-train his audience (much like an optometrist re-trains the eyes of his patients so they can see near AND far) or succumb to the new language of culture and work in a medium that is easily digestible to the audience. We're not used to making our own art. It's given to us, right? You just have to get online or turn on the TV.

It's a tricky game, this art thing.

This is a very personal subject, I realize. Some musicians are better on their albums than they are live. Some subject matters are better suited for movies than live plays. Some writers should be shot. But there needs to be a balance. It seems that we are in a time where if a piece of art can't translate to youtube, it's not going to make the rounds and be experienced by those who need it. And, yes, that's just wrong. But that also means that an artist has to think about how they come across to an audience that's used to getting their artistic references in binary.

So... what do you think? Is it worth the effort to produce art that will only be experienced as it happens? Or would that energy be better put to use in creating a permanent art that might be able to outlive the artist or... gasp... go viral?

-Matt
www.mypatchworkpants.blogspot.com

Improvisation and Kids

Today I finished the ARTS camp at Easley First Baptist Church. I had two classes to which I taught improv for four days. The first class consisted of eleven 1-3 graders, the second of six 4-6 graders.

I learned something very valuable. Kids don't need improv.

Keith Johnstone said it right (as usual) ((by the way, the following quote is paraphrased because I'm too lazy to go grab my copy of "Impro" even though it's mere feet away. So go buy the book yourself and read it in context. You won't regret it.)):

"Kids are not under-developed adults. Adults are atrophied children."

It takes a certain amount of life to paralyze the creative impulse, or at least bury it deep enough to require excavation. Typically, improv is that excavation.

But kids are already kids. They don't need excavation. They need discipline and structure.

Improv then becomes a different monster... one of training on a very basic level, not error correction. I think that traditional theatre training is a preferable method for developing a child's artistic temperament, with improv used primarily as a tool in the theatrical creation process, instead of my usual ideal of using theatrical devices as tools in an improvisational creation process.

I think that I now understand why Peter Brook used an eclectic mix of fully trained, experienced actors from different backgrounds in his troupes. He used improv to "untrain" these actors, who could then use the reverse-engineered techniques of their previous crafts to re-assemble themselves into a super-creative entity. But they had to have something to untrain.

Improv seeks to return "adults" into a child-like state of freedom, creativity and security, but with the confidence, awareness and capability that only time can instill.

Kids need something different.

Hopefully more experience in this arena will show me different techniques to deal with the needs of such budding little geniuses, but as of now... if you're a teacher of elementary students, stick to theatre.

Improv will fix anything you screw up... but later on.

Failure is not Defeat

**I wrote this article for a Magazine Article Writing class that I had with Pam Zollman at AnAuthor World. The basic premise of my proposed series of articles was the application of basic improv concepts to real-world leadership situations. This is the first of that series. Or possibly the only in that series.**

Failure is not Defeat: Manage Risk like an Improv Coach

Improvisation is inherently risky. To put oneself in front of his peers and pretend without knowing what may happen… well, that might seem to be the definition of insanity. However, a good improv coach knows that his number one job is to give his actors permission to fail. He creates a “safe zone” that encourages failure. By permitting and encouraging failure, he in fact creates a space for surprise successes. And that is what makes improvisational comedy so compelling. It’s like watching a kid run at full tilt. He may stumble and fall, even viciously, but when he gets back up and keeps going you cannot help but root for him, like Sean Astin in “Rudy”: even relatively small successes in the face of such overwhelming failure is more than just cause for raucous celebration.

But how do you create an expectation that truly accepts failure? First, as an improv coach, I have to have an attitude that accepts failure as success, which is a pretty difficult thing to do when you are directing a scene where one person has decided to play John Paul Jones and the other insists that they are both pickles in a garden. It can be almost impossible not to grimace and bail on the scene, but that would be the wrong reaction. Second, I have to make sure that all the players are risking at comparable levels. It is not a supportive atmosphere when one player is risking everything and no one else is willing to follow him there. It is the leader’s job to create the supportive space (a padded room, so to speak) that spurs his players on to make massive and embarrassing mistakes in a safe and supportive situation so that he can learn from them.

It seems logical to say that failure is a negative thing, but it isn’t. It may feel bad at first, certainly. If a great amount of effort is exerted to the completion of a task, or the starting of a business, or perhaps even in the pursuit of love, when the desired goal slips from between reaching fingers there is a great feeling of loss and impotency. Yet in every unsuccessful venture there is a wealth of knowledge. In the famous legend, when Thomas Edison was interviewed during his battle with Nicola Tesla to invent the first working light bulb, he was asked how he felt having failed 1000 times, to which he responded that he had not failed, but had successfully proven 1000 ways NOT to invent the light bulb. Your perspective of “failure” is what determines your defeat.

Every failure has a commonality: a risk has been taken. Every risk may end in failure; but even with failure comes the reward of having defeated stagnation and motionlessness. It is said that love and hate are not opposites, because at least an active stance has been taken towards the person. It is indifference that is the true measure of one’s distaste. In the same way, failure is not the true measure of one’s defeat. Defeat is when one does not risk. An improviser has a little bit different mindset than perhaps a typical person in a team. They have to support their teammates while keeping the interest of the audience. To do that, they have to make risky decisions that will, more than likely, make them look like fools. But there is a paradox here: the more risky the decision, the less likely they are going to fail.

There is nothing worse than watching improvisers make weak decisions. In many ways, it’s like looking over a chasm to a cliff on the other side that you must reach… you may be completely terrified to fling yourself into the void, but to do any less would be much more likely to end in a Wile E. Coyote wail, thud and accordion walk-off in humiliation. No guts, no glory, right? But the more times that the chasm is vaulted, the easier the risk becomes. It’s a psychological thing: when someone walks along a sidewalk only two feet wide, there is no problem. But if suddenly the same path is suspended two hundred feet in the air, there is a huge problem. The trick is putting the seemingly dangerous path on ground-level, mentally, by creating the space in which to work on high-risk content without fear. In this way, the player will be accustomed to the rush of huge risks and be able to maneuver into the greater reward that all the weaker ones wouldn’t try to reach in a million years.

Failure is always going to be a scary concept; no one enjoys failing. But failure does not have to be defeat. Giving permission to fail, minimizing the negative aspects of failure and encouraging greater risks to acquire greater rewards are three concepts used in an improvisational comedy atmosphere to elicit unusual results from otherwise law-abiding citizens… well, most of them abide the laws, anyway. These concepts were constructed to harmonize a group full of disparate personalities into a strong unit that not only gets along but delights those invited into their space as they watch the team function well. The main entertainment of improv comedy is not necessarily the content generated; to be honest, the content is usually something less than Tony-caliber, and that’s being generous. It’s the thrill that the audience gets from seeing a group of people work together intensely to accomplish a common goal, however nontraditional that goal might be. These concepts are easily applied to any leadership situation. Every leader seeks the best out of his team. Lead them into risky behavior by providing them with a way to process “failure” as a positive step towards a successful goal.

Ecological Christianity: A Metaphor, Pt. 1

Wisdom is Cross-Applicative


So obviously things aren't working in Christianity, as a system. The church dropout rate is skyrocketing and there are entire age groups that are not even being touched by the church, despite constant attempts from very intelligent and well-meaning people. The "church," as we know it, is a function that has gone the way of Baudrillard's map: the foundation has LONG since eroded, and the resulting "hyperreal" church, while definitely real in its own right, is separated from the functionality of the what the Church was in times past. There's been something broken for a long time, certainly for generations, probably for centuries, even for millenia, perhaps. There was a breakdown somewhere along the way... not to say that it hasn't "worked," per se, for specific groups in specific places, but, unfortunately, these are the exceptions.


This is not something new. I am not the first to see real need, and I am not going to be the last. Nor is this essay necessarily to browbeat church leaders into a sense of guilt for actions not taken. I only have a few simple things to add to the dialogue, if you'll have me.

The impetus for this essay comes from a few TED talks that have managed to say what I've been thinking in a far greater and creative way that I would be able to. The problems that we've been seeing in the church are not local to the church, which I know seems a bit odd. But as the church has surfed the tides of culture for ages, we have taken on the same problems:


-The "clear cutting" methods we've employed for years (canvasing, revival services, special promotion Sundays, etc) have run their course in the same way that clear cutting forests will eventually yield no more trees.


-The fast and cheap, cost-efficient, high-yield methods we've used for congregation management have turned out an anemic, sickly, obese Christianity in the same way that our similar food systems have done to the last few American generations.


Interestingly enough, the same exceptions from the aforementioned examples apply in the same ways to the Church. Not every type of tree that is clear cut is unable to make a recovery, but may grow back if given enough time or re-planted. Not every American is fat and anemic; those that are wise enough to grow their own food, or are rich enough to get the good stuff brought to them, are in fine shape. But those are the exceptions only. On the whole, mass purveyors of the product are falling prey to the mass market, despite it not being beneficial to the consumer. Lucre still has its place.


What I'm calling for is not something revolutionary or even something new. A holistic approach to religion has been championed by many far wiser than I. But... I may get into serious trouble here... this idea should work in the same sense as we use the term "repentance," in that it's a change of mind, not a specific list of things to do, that influences our actions thereafter (for those of you with steam issuing from your ears, please calm down... I don't mean this in the same exact sense as salvation, only in general concept).


What I'm offering that may be different from what has been previously said on the subject is more in the form of concrete, measurable results seen in a similar situation. I am not a "pie in the sky" kind of person... an idealist, perhaps, but not an impractical one.

There is a dialogue in full swing that may as well be quoted verbatim on the floors of our churches. The same problems that we see are being addressed... AND FIXED. There is a repentance, of sorts, that is currently sweeping the nation. You might even call it a revival. And, for once, it is almost completely congruent to our faith, even complimentary (if we'll let it).


Take a look at these videos, keeping a metaphorical mind:















All of that to say this: There is a vast change that has begun. I am in no wise advocating that Christianity hitch our little red wagon onto the Ecological bandwagon. What I am saying is that these new methods are fixing the age-long problems that have been short circuiting a working system. Perhaps a little interdisciplinarity will do us some good.

I'll go deeper in later posts... There is a wealth of metaphor in just these four videos that would fill volumes, but I think this is a good enough introduction. Just wanted to plant some seeds, as it were. Believe me, I have more.

Deep Roots

Posted on fb: Friday, December 4, 2009 at 1:27am

I’m crazy for deep roots. The kind that tickle deeply hidden stillwaters, that at a squinted glance correctly infer more than what I know I don’t know, with that irresistible eye-twinkle of mystery that reminds me of the moon on slow-moving rivers at midnight. A slight, pleasant smirk of time-worn wisdom inevitably lingers around the face and peeks out of the most curious little nooks, only to disappear again as if, for some happy moment, you just imagined it.

These are the reincarnated ones.

Their silence is a music of remembrance; their walk, the calm cadence of a moss-covered sundial. Every word they use they have said before, and they could tell you a story about each syllable. A sad story and a happy story, too, if you like.

I want them all to tell me that I’m special… that they’ve seen me someplace before – 1945, in fact – and didn’t I go on and do some really swell things and help a great many people?

And, were that to happen, of course I’d have my reply rehearsed and ready: “No, no that wasn’t me, but I’m proud you think so. Would you mind telling me what they did and how they did it?” I’m still waiting for my chance… but I'm more than alright with just a quick story. A happy one, please.

They all buy cards. Piles and piles of cards. Stacks, mounds, wheelbarrows full of cards. Cradles full of cards. Hospitals full of cards. Hearses full of cards.

They know that all we got is connection.

And there I stand, watching them, a snot-nosed twenty-four-year-old child, staring a fresh life smack between the eyes… looking like a deer disoriented by the moon’s reflection on a slow-moving river at midnight… reaching for the stillwaters…

And trying real hard to grow my roots deep.

Thoughts on Necessity and Art

Posted on fb: Wednesday, December 2, 2009 at 1:46am

In a lot of ways, creativity needs to come from necessity. And perhaps that holds true even in the most ultimate of creations. Did God create the world out of necessity? Not in the sense of “We have to create space and time and everything in it because without it We don’t hold value,” but maybe in a similar sense as someone who has the ability to create something beautiful, but doesn’t, is in some way held responsible for that lack.

Our creative impulse is inextricably linked to the creative nature of our Creator.

Everything that He does is purposeful and necessary.

It addresses a need.

Is that why some art (even by trained artists who should be able to move mountains) is empty of power? And why some art that is technically sub-par is able to draw upon the basic underpinnings of their audience and move the spirit of those that experience it? Time and time again, one can see or hear or read some (pardon) hideous and beastly art-flavored substance that truly affects their intended targets in very positive and productive ways. It’s almost implicit in anything creative that occurs in a modern amateur/volunteer-run religious establishment. It is probable that the success of such anemic endeavors is simply the result of necessity. It isn’t that the audience is unintelligent, or that they are unable to appreciate finely crafted art (although this is undoubtedly the case at times). It’s that the need for the art is so incredibly present that it enables well-meaning but incompetent players to fill it. A thirsty man will still drink dirty water. And with an absence of anything healthier, who can condemn him for his enjoyment of it?

On the other hand, there is the proficient artist who creates art in the absence of necessity. Art for art’s sake, so to speak (all apologies to Wilde and his ilk, but despite their heady ideals they managed to be as functional in their artistic efforts as anyone else in history). He creates a piece that has no connection to any sort of need inherent in others. This artist will then become frustrated that no one else appreciates his expressions. But he forgets that he only meant it to fill his own need. And, unfortunately, this artist doesn’t succeed because art don’t pay no bills (nor should it) unless it addresses more than one person’s need.

[While it is true that quite often it is the case that issues with which an individual artist is struggling are often issues that transcend himself and include a large amount of his peers, but this is, in large part, a happy accident, very hit-and-miss, if approached in such a limited, individualistic manner. The litmus test as to the verisimilitude of the art is in its resonance within the audience to whom the artist presents his art.]

Therefore, in a very “state the obvious” sort of way, the amount of influence that a piece of art has on its audience varies in direct proportion to the amount of necessity that the piece addresses. And influence, in this case, can easily be said to include the amount of enjoyment, or even catharsis, that the audience receives.

[At the risk of redundancy and boredom, it is also important to correlate the degree to which any particular piece meets the requirements of the necessity. If a vessel has three cups of volume, two cups is not sufficient to fulfill the needs of the space. Similarly, four cups is overkill; it’s an unnecessary and inefficient waste of resources. Both examples will inevitably lead to dissatisfaction. The aim is to hit as close to three cups as possible, fulfilling the need but not wasting efforts.]

**addendum… because I can’t let this issue just exist without trying to fix it**
To return to an artistic vision for the church (and those of you who were tagged in this note should know the sense in which I use the word “church”): previously it was mentioned that “It is probable that the success of such anemic endeavors is simply the result of necessity [. . .] It’s that the need for the art is so incredibly present that it enables well-meaning but incompetent players to fill it.” This must be a temporary fix. I’m sorry, but they are placeholders for someone more suited to the task. They are noses doing what fingers should. I’m just picking. No, I’m not. Never should the simple address of necessity be construed as an endpoint, a suitable finish-line toward which to run. It would be a false positive, a dangerous apathy. Dirty water will eventually cease to help and begin to harm. It is the responsibility of those that bear such a second sight, who produce these metaphors and reference points, to continue sanctifying the process. The excellent artist will fuse form with function. He will gauge the necessity and find the appropriate way to fill the need. He will strive to present the absolute best as his sacrifice to his God.

Fond

Posted on fb: Monday, November 2, 2009 at 12:29am

What I done read at NGU poetry night, Oct 29, 2009

**I read this at the poetry night at North Greenville University. It was received warmly, but I didn't really get any feedback besides the "oh, you" kind of stuff. So yeah, I was curious as to what you maybe thought about it... i suppose you could call it the time-worn artist's lack of confidence**

When a chef cooks meat, only in rare and very specific circumstances does he use a non-stick pan, even though that would prevent a lot of mess and save him clean-up time. The surprising thing is, the little burned-up bits of meat that stick to the bottom of the pan during the cooking process… the stubborn, shoulder-straining, scrubber-resistant bits that a non-stick pan would prevent… they are some of the most sought-after bits in cooking. They are called the “fond.” This is the story of fond.

When raw meat is put into a hot pan, assuming you know what you’re doing, it doesn’t just burst into flames and turn into a pile of ashes. At the spot where the meat hits the heat, that place where there is the most action, the place where the mechanism of change is being transferred from a source, pieces of cooked flesh adhere to the cooking vessel and are torn away as the meat moves. Yet what takes place during this violent time in the cooking process is not burning, but a chemical process called the Maillard reaction.

Certain foods, like meat, need a good amount of heat to be rendered suitable for their intended dish. The application of said heat to these foods causes their proteins and sugars to react with one another, creating brand new and unique compounds that are responsible for a vast array of tastes and smells that wouldn’t exist otherwise. The Maillard reaction is what makes bread into toast and roasts coffee beans. Without it, foods such as caramel, maple syrup and chocolate could not exist. And it is a result of this reaction that keeps foods cooked in pans from having black layers of char on any surfaces that are come into contact with the heat source. In other words, it allows the food to bend without breaking.

When the meat has completed the cooking process and is GBD (golden brown and delicious… it’s a real term, look it up), it is removed from the heat, leaving the little casualties in the pan with the rest of what was lost during the cooking period (juices, fat, and the like). The chef does not wash the pan at this point, however. It would be a sacrilege, anathema! It is said that in France a novice chef would be mercilessly whipped with baguettes by his coworkers for wasting such a precious commodity. For the fond is used to create what is most succulent about any well-prepared dish: the sauce. The more fond, the better, as it is used to infuse the essence of the cooked ingredient into an accentual addition that transforms a one-note dish into a gourmet meal. Once the meat is done cooking, the chef removes it from the heat and places it on a covered plate to rest. Using a deglazing liquid such as water, milk, or wine, the fond is then coaxed from the bottom of the pan and becomes a flavor base on which to build the sauce.

Without the fond, a sauce would lack cohesiveness in its taste profile, keeping it from complimenting the meal. In other words, it would be a stranger, devoid of context, intruding onto the plate. The meal would be neither complete nor satisfying.

With the fond, a pan-built sauce completes a meal, unifying the disparate parts into a single work of art, worthy of high prices and snooty waiters.



Sometimes I wonder how much fond-ness I really want to bring to this party.