Poetry

White Elephants

Atop the distant trickle
of the willow river
mustard and auburn leaves float.
The sun reaches
into the cemetery
where the Confederacy are,
sunk in unkempt grass and
the occasional Skittles wrapper.
The sinking light peaks
from behind the cotton swabs,
warming a swarthy dog that cuddles
gravestone, sleeping
to the sound of river,
dreaming without the
burden of collar or past.

Editorial on Gay Marriage

I would rather live in a Fag Nation than a Christian one. I say this, referencing the collective opinions of Westboro Baptist Church and it’s community, Christians who vehemently oppose any acceptance of homosexuality in American culture. These individuals argue that God hates America, and that the Great Experiment is approaching its demise.

I greatly appreciate my country. I respect its Constitution. I am wary of religion. A recent discussion in my New Testament course addressing the topic of homosexuality within Christianity has affirmed these three points. It astonishes me that individuals can disregard science in favor of documents touting ancient ideas, ideas that are often taken out of historical context and misunderstood, no less. It also saddens and angers me that some will champion ancient scripture over the Constitution, even going to the extent of retrojecting what amounts to “religious wishful thinking” into the history of our purposely-designed secular country. I wish that American culture was more accepting and knowledgeable concerning homosexuality, refusing to infringe on the innate American right of liberty. In addition, I wish scripture was understood more comprehensively.

The Hebrew Bible (what many Christians disrespectfully refer to as the Old Testament) is a composition of various books, the earliest of which date back to about 5,000 BCE. These books were written by human beings, not by God, but anthropomorphic ideas of a supreme being. Many fundamentalists affirm that their respective scripture is the literal word of God, and should be read as such. These individuals feel that society is an affront to their beliefs, to their morality. I tend to think that this is often misappropriated fear of the world. Only those searching for a fixed, unwavering constant in an ever-changing world will affix the title “infallible” to any document, religious or otherwise. So, to say that a piece of scripture is written “by God,” and inerrant, is an example of one who is quite intimidated by the world, and reticent to use true critical thinking faculties.

I think biblical scholar Marcus Borg is far more accurate in describing scripture as a “human response to God.” That is why God has an evolving personality within the Hebrew Bible, with the more violent deity of the Torah yielding to a more judicious figure in the Wisdom books (Job, Psalms, Song of Solomon, et cetera). It also explains how the depictions of Jesus vary in the Gospels; these are unique, human understandings of an incomprehensible force within the universe. I do not argue the Bible’s insignificance, I only argue that it should not be considered neither infallible, nor an autobiography.

I am not an atheist. Journalist Christopher Hitchens, author of God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, refers to himself as an antitheist, one even more disapproving of religiosity and divine beliefs than the everyday agnostic. I am quite suspect of labels, especially those that consist of a single word, so I am hesitant to proceed in iterating my own theological convictions. If this must be done, I would put forth that I prefer to be considered a secular agnostic. I believe in the separation of church and state, as outlined in the American Constitution, and I find no need to affiliate with any institutions of one of the many past or present religions created by human beings. I do not hold myself to the opinion that no God exists. Instead, I lay my concerns with religiosity on the shoulders of religiosity itself, and I will not bring God into the mix.

One of the most irritating and insipid arguments in modern political discussions is a proposed amendment to the Constitution that would define marriage as a union between man and woman, rebuking the rights of monogamous homosexual couples, yet affirming the rights of monogamous heterosexual ones. Even cursory knowledge of the American Constitution yields the paramount theme of the document, that personal liberty cannot be obstructed by either federal, state, or local governments. It is my opinion that if heterosexuals have a right to marry (which they do), then heterosexuals have that very same right, as Government cannot discriminate as it sees fit in a manner such as this.

Now, there is no question that the inspiration for such daft proposals towards the amending of the U.S. Constitution comes from religious conviction, especially that of Christianism. I use this term to refer to the politicalization of the Christian religion, likely inspired by the term Islamists, which refers to those individuals who feel that Islam is not only a religion to be practiced, but also an additional political system. Certain individuals within Christianism argue that the founders of our republic were, not only Christian, but also sought a type of “Christian Nation.” When addressed with the question of why no mentioning of this can be found in either the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution, a typical Christianist may respond with the convenient and impulsive argument, “It did not need be stated, as it was implied.” I doubt a more ignorant supposition based on puny historical insight cannot be made.

Let us begin with Thomas Jefferson, who wrote in Notes on Virginia (1782):

Millions of innocent men, women, and children, since the introduction of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined, imprisoned; yet we have not advanced one inch towards uniformity. What has been the effect of coercion? To make one half the world fools and the other half hypocrites. To support roguery and error all over the earth.

There is also James Madison, who once remarked, "During almost fifteen centuries has the legal establishment of Christianity been on trial. What have been its fruits? More or less in all places, pride and indolence in the Clergy, ignorance and servility in the laity; in both, superstition, bigotry and persecution" (Memorial and Remonstrance against Religious Assessments, 1785)

Finally, there is the first holder of the Executive Branch, George Washington, who once stated in a letter to the United Baptist Churches of Virginia, that “Every man "ought to be protected in worshipping the Deity according to the dictates of his own conscience” (1785). The founders of our republic had no intention of creating this supposed “Christian Nation.” Proponents of such credulousness should be identified as such, and for sound reason, as they affect arguments regarding gay marriage.

The question of homosexuality is a religious one. Most proponents of daft ideas such as constitutional amendments defining marriage between a man and woman are framed within a religious context, primarily a Christian one in this country.

This is to affirm allegiance to Christian principles, and support the validity of the scriptural affirmations against homosexuality. Two of the most suggestive passages in the Hebrew Bible occur in book of Leviticus (18:22 and 20:13). Passages negating the sexual intercourse of same-gendered individuals occur in the New Testament, although no instance of them can be attributed to Jesus of Nazareth. Instead, they occur in reprinted epistles of Paul: Romans 1:26-27, 1 Corinthians 6:9, and (although largely considered a forgery) 1 Timothy 1:10.

However, does Paul (and the mimicked Paul of 1 Timothy) really refer to our understanding of homosexuality? Probably not. The term homosexual had not been coined until the end of the nineteenth century, and the first use of the term in a version of the Bible did not occur until 1946. What, then, could Paul have been addressing? Victor Paul Furnish, author of The Moral Teaching of Paul: Selected Issues, provides some insight:

Beginning in the sixth century B.C., homosexual love had a relatively prominent place in Greek social life…Women had come to be valued only for their part in helping to ensure the continuation of the race. In this male-dominated society, even when the young female form became the model for beauty, the youthful male was regarded as embodying the ideal. Thus, the more a youth resembled a female, the more he was admired by older males, and the more apt he was to become the object of their erotic attentions (59).

This societal phenomenon, known as pederasty, is the love of an older man for a boy or male youth, and it was extolled by Plato and many other philosophers as the purest form of love (Furnish 59). Over time, these young embodiments of physical characteristics attributed to women turned into exploitation. Other first and second century writers such as Seneca, Plutarch and Dio Chrysostom affirm this exploitative behavior in their various recorded epistles (Furnish 60-2). It is quite probable that Paul was not specifying his concern for homosexual tendencies, in-and-of itself, but rather the exploitation of young men at its expense, not consensual homosexual intercourse. Even if Paul did not approve of sexual attraction towards a member of the same sex (even if consensual), he lacked one development in his time that is present in ours: genetics.

In his very illuminating book The Red Queen: Sex and the Evolution of Human Nature, Matt Ridley writes:

A man develops a sexual preference for women because his brain develops in a certain way. It develops in a certain way because testosterone produced by his genetically determined testicles alter the brain inside his mother’s womb in such a way that later, at puberty, it will react to testosterone again. Miss out on the genes…and you will not be a typical man (264).

The scientific pursuit to understand homosexuality debunked previously conventional ideas that a child’s upbringing determined their sexual orientation. Ridley explores the repercussions of such knowledge:

If the sexual preferences of gay men are greatly influenced (not wholly determined) by a gene, then it is probable that so are the sexual instincts are heavily determined by our genes, then they have evolved by natural and sexual selection, and that means they bear the imprint of design (280).

No person chooses their sexuality—nature does it for them. So, how does one reconcile the question that asks, “what if Paul and other Christians believed that one decided their sexuality?” Simple. They were wrong.

Secularist need to ensure the Constitutional rights of homosexuals, just as they do for heterosexuals. We need to recognize the limits of ancient scripture, as certain ideas and outlooks have become archaic in the midst of modernity. Previous understandings of homosexuality have become white elephants. There is no need for government-sanctioned marriage, and no need to amend the Constitution. Let religious organizations marry who they deem to be in accord with their specifications of marriage. Let the Government recognize civil unions, pertaining to both heterosexuals and homosexual couples, free from the dated beliefs of various religions. Protect the right of religious institutions to deny marriage to gays and lesbians, or anyone else whom they deem unworthy of the ceremony (the separation of church and state works both ways), but any government-sanctioned benefits given to a heterosexual couple must be given to their homosexual neighbors.

Lady Liberty is a secularist, her scripture is the Constitution, and her Communion is the nourishment that comes from preserving the liberty of all her people. God bless the American doctrine that separates church from state. Hallelujah.

Photo

A Few Thoughts on Jack Gilbert

I have enjoyed Refusing Heaven tremendously. Not since my introduction to E.E. Cummings have I come across a poet with whom I sense an affinity. One of the aspects of his work that attracts me is the minimal language that he uses (the poem “The Reinvention of Happiness” is only four lines). I think this lends itself to my feeling that his work (at least in this anthology) is “gut” poetry, so to speak. There is a tremendous amount of emotion and feeling expressed in his work. As mentioned briefly in my poetry class, some poets favor a longer discourse to convey their intent. I prefer the shorter endeavors.

In an introduction to the book Demian by Herman Hesse, Thomas Mann wrote “…it is often books of small size that exert the greatest dynamic power…” I think the sentiment that Mann wrote of novels can apply to poetry as well. I tend to think it easy for writers of any genre to become zealous, lexically speaking, in their creative vision. Words carry a tremendous amount of impact, and by adding words, it may be thought, increases that influence even more. However, I think that by limiting the amount of words one uses, they become more rare and, thusly, more resonant.

One of the most alluring poems in Gilbert’s book is “By Small And Small: Midnight to Four A.M.” Consisting of only nine lines and colloquial diction Gilbert removes any unnecessary layers and immediately arrives to the core of the poem: his regret for not embracing, who I assume to be, his wife as she lay dying in a hospital bed amidst hospital equipment. Without the use of metaphors, similes, or any other poetic tact, Gilbert evokes tangible emotion within the reader; he evokes their humanity. I prefer this route instead of a lavish attempt at poetic sensibility. Trim the fat and get to the good stuff.

Creativity and Life

In reading The Zen of Creativity: Cultivating Your Artistic Life, by John Daido Loori, for my Zen Buddhism course, I’ve come across some interesting ideas that I think not only relate to creativity, but also to life in general.

Loori writes that expectation precludes the opportunity for discovery (93). By having a goal set for any work (a poem, novel, painting, photo, et cetera) one immediately creates a confined, restricted outlook with which to embrace and use their creative faculties.

I couldn’t help but think of the late Joe Strummer saying something similar in the documentary Let’s Rock Again. He said, to summarize, that he never goes into something with expectations, that way he's never disappointed. I think that's true. I also find a correlation with this and writer’s block.

In a recent class of my poetry workshop, our instructor was discussing one poet’s thought on this subject (unfortunately, the name of this poet escapes me). This poet felt writer's block was “bullshit.” Many writers would adamently converge in opposition to such an idea, citing personal experience as evidence to disavow it.

However, as my instructor pointed out, there is truth to it.

We make our own writer’s block. Writer’s block comes about when we try to be perfect as we write. Instead, one should freely admit and accept that first drafts are often rife with total crap, plain and simple. When one accepts that their first attempts are by no means infallible, the pressures and barriers of creativity can be liberated.

In my own experience, I find this to be the case. Only when I want a poem or essay to be perfect do I encounter resistance. Lorrie wrties, “When we try to reach a goal, we become fixated on it and we miss the process. Process and goal are the same reality. Each step clearly contains the goal” (93-4).

I tend to think that life works in a similar ways. Only when one tries to force and/or manipulate perfection, does it becomes lost. Just as one cannot script creativity, similarly one cannot script life. You merely react to it. Recent experiences in my life have affirmed this. Just let life flow without the subjugation of a goal, and never expect perfection.

It takes the wonder out of things. And also the fun.

Claude Monet-Inspired Poem

Gazing at the twigs of industry
The man in the boat stands
too suddenly, rocking the small vessel.
The sunset mates with his reflection.
The heavy face, wrinkled
from years on
Monet’s harbor, watches orange
returning to the horizon, through
grey and blue.

Remembering the number of
sunsets in his fading life, the many
nights of twilight with that very orange,
He exhales his breath and stares
Up toward the sky filled
With smoke and sadness,
looking more beautiful
than it has ever before.

The Beginning of my Odyssey Years

I decided to attend college because I was afraid. I was afraid that the three years after high-school would become my life pre-retirement. My first job after graduating in 2000 was working at Victor’s Pizza, a mom-and-pop Italian-Greek restaurant. At the end of my employment, before I quit to preserve my mental health, I was working eleven hours a day, five days a week.

I then worked in the stock room of the two-level Target (the first of its kind in the state of Virginia). My experience there was so mundane and mentally debasing that I forced myself to forget those many months. I hardly remember working there. I’m serious. I really don't.

My last job before attending college was working in a frame shop of a Michael’s Arts & Crafts. Overall, it was a creative and fun environment. I enjoyed using my artistic faculties, I enjoyed (for the most part) the people with which I worked, and I especially enjoyed the relatively lax dress code. But it wasn’t what I wanted for the rest of my life.

Four and a half years later, I’m back at the same point. Mere months away from graduating with an English degree, I have absolutely no inclination as to what I want to do. I think of the movie Lady in the Water, and its theme of finding one’s purpose (not to mention the arrogance of those who think they know it for you). Although the film is rich in fantasy, it nonetheless tackles a point that many, like myself, have felt before.

Casually reading The New York Times today, I came across an op-ed by David Brooks titled “The Odyssey Years.” In it, Brooks writes of the changing understanding of life’s stages. Sandwiched between traditional notions of adolescence and adulthood is the emerging recognition of the odyssey years. In this time, Brooks writes, young twenty-somethings change careers, fall in and out of love, live with friends, even living back at home for a time. It is a life of improvisation. It is a life that I will enter later this year in December,

So, as I dress in business-casual attire tomorrow to attend a college Job Fair, and as I worry about finding my purpose just as Cleveland and the tenets at The Cove did in The Lady in the Water, I will remember that I am not alone. Odysseus is traveling along side me as we search for our Ithaca.

Another Look at Jesus

In reading The Meaning of Jesus: Two Visions for my New Testament course, I've once again come across the wonderful interpretation of Marcus Borg. Borg is a New Testament scholar who does not share the beliefs that many traditionalists and fundamentalists do. He does not believe the virgin birth narratives of Matthew and Luke are historical, nor does he feel Jesus saw himself as the Messiah. Perhaps most in contrary to traditional Christianity, he feels the second coming of Jesus maintained in various Christian literature was just plain wrong. He is also a professed Christian.

To the modern individual who is open to a Christian experience within their religiosity, notable aspects of Christianity can impede the logical next-step. People may be weary of restricting (in some cases assassinating) their reason and rationality to partake in religion as a means to experience a divine entity. Must one believe that Jesus walked on water to immerse themselves in a Christian experience? That he was born from the womb of a young Jewish virgin? That he was raised from the dead? It is neither shameful nor unreasonable to uphold such doubts. The likelihood that such events are literal events of history is unlikely, at best.

But does one need to view such events as actual history in order to find commune in the Christian movement? To the fundamentalist, the answer is yes. If one does not hold such supernatural beliefs they are considered foolish and arrogant. I think the opposite is the case.

Borg provides an alternative; a more reasonable, accurate one.

In summary, Borg distinguishes two unique Jesus personae: a pre-Easter Jesus and a post-Easter Jesus. The former is the understanding of Jesus as Galilean Jewish peasant of the first century (7). The latter is what Borg describes, "...what Jesus became after his death" (7). It is the Jesus whom his followers continued to experience after his death as a living, spiritual, and ultimately divine reality (7).

The writers of this burgeoning religious movement engaged actual history, but retrojected metaphoric language and imagery to convey a truth that was lacking in literal history. For instance, the myth of a young George Washington cutting down a cherry tree comes to mind. When questioned about the cut tree, he responds with chivalry, stating that he cannot tell a lie. Is this story literally true? No. Is there metaphoric truth to it? Perhaps. Here, history is reexamined with interpretation (i.e. Washington's prominence in American history) that arrises after the fact.The birth narratives in Matthew and Luke are excellent examples of this phenomenon.

First, it is important to observe that there are no virgin birth accounts in any of the other New Testament documents. The earliest documents were the authentic letters of Paul (of which there are roughly seven, the others are fakes), who mentions no birth account whatsoever. The earliest Gospel, Mark, omits such an event as well. Therefore, Borg would argue, one can see a developing tradition taking place when the authors of Matthew and Luke (their actual names are anonymous, just as are the Gospels of Mark and John) decided to retroject such narrative in their sermons.

The birth narratives are different in these Gospels as well. Matthew introduces his very Jewish-oriented Gospel by depicting the concern of King Herod and the slaughter of the innocents in similarity to the birth account of Moses. Matthew also depicts the birth within prestigious circumstances, which is the opposite of Luke, who depicts the birth in very poor conditions.

Not surprisingly, one of the main themes of Luke is the righteousness of the poor. What’s a great way to introduce this theme? Have Jesus born in a poor manger. Instead of the virgin birth serving as historical recitation, they become devices of metaphor.

To Matthew, Jesus is the new Moses, and the King of the Jews, so he constructs his birth narrative accordingly. To Luke, Jesus is a social prophet, condemning the rich and uplifting the poor. He also constructs his birth narrative accordingly to fit this theme at the onset of the Gospel.

By understanding such metaphoric principles, Borg argues that Christianity can serve those who desire an ongoing Christian experience in their lives, yet who are unwilling to part with critical thinking. Unfortunately, it might be a heavy cross to bear in a country where conservative Christianity yields the most influence.

Inspired by William Butler Yeats...

This Fine Autumn Day

An apparition makes her beauty shine proud
In a restless fit of old thoughts and dreams
A tender walk through an old mountain stream
Becomes a relic, more than Turin’s shroud

How many walks I made in younger years
Were filled with deep silence and solitude
And many doubts about Love’s fortitude
Drenched my mind in a great many of fears

Yet, now in older meek and humble ways
I search for a touch to come from your hand
Like an ancient jewel entrenched deep in sand
Longing to meet on this fine autumn day.

Poem

A Song in Orange

Laying in light, sulfur mixing
in orange, the night gleaming
with a diamond buried
in pavement and devotion,
where a song played
five years ago
finds a reverent listener
who, in a pensive mood,
finds a passing solace
where people walk,
and say not one word
in that orange
you have made, that you have
found for me

My New Favorite Book

It had been a while since I've read fiction. Free from literary analysis and criticism via coursework, I gravitated toward non-fiction over the summer. I read books about pirates, athieism, Joe Strummer, the evolution of sex, not once considering a work of fiction. I was rather concerned, actually.

In high school I read so many great books: Lord of the Flies, To Kill a Mockingbird, and my favorite, The Catcher in the Rye. I contend that my love of reading established itself at this point, finding escape and relief in literature, when the reality of adolescents was lacking.

I think four years of being in college had restricted my enjoyment of fiction: reading material I wouldn't have otherwise choosen (not necessarily a bad thing in certain instances), forced to analyze passages and characters in boring, obvious ways, with the pressure to focus on certain aspects of a work that one thinks the professor will test them on, regardless if you think it important or not.

With this in mind I approached Herman Hesse's Siddhartha for my Zen Buddhism course. Just as reading Catcher in the Rye made me feel as if I wasn't alone in how I thought, how frustrated I was with adults, and with growing up in general; it reassured me that I wasn't crazy for having the thoughts that I did.

For many months I've contemplated ego, self, and the Buddhist notion of tanha (desire; thirst). I've examined my life, my wishes, attempting to distinguish my egocentric self with that of a more geniune self (does such a separation exist?) I felt unorthodox and strange in thinking the way I did.

Just like Catcher in the Rye, I read Siddhartha at a most opportune time. This simple, short novel absorbed me. The struggles and questioning of the title character mimicked that of my own. Just as I saw myself in Holden Caulfield, I saw myself in Siddhartha, a character created in 1919 Germany. Ninety years have past since Hesse created his Siddhartha, and me, a twenty-five year old in Richmond, VA, reads it as though it is at it's most fresh and relevant state.

American historian Barbara Tuchman once spoke that books are humanity in print. I think I might have found my own once again.

Poetry

I'm not as comfortable with my poetry as I was in my previous workshop one year ago, but I'll post anyway:

Melancholy in Indonesia

In the marriage of
flesh and river
I live restlessly
in a village
not unlike that of Indonesia
where the temples, religions, and
rain fall aimlessly on
my little hut
where I am lonely
and dry

A New Genesis (sans Phil Collins)

I have resolved myself to begin, somewhat, regular posts back on this blog. Over the past few weeks I've noticed myself regressing into the void of television and ennui; unhappiness and nonfulfillment being the resulting symptoms. Unfortunately, this is second nature for me, as I grew up in an environment where the only time one doesn't watch T.V. is when they are at work. I grew up satiating my mind and emotions via the idiot box. Thanks, but no thanks.

In talking with Brika about her new inspiration to begin her art once again, I've realized that it would be wise to follow her lead as a sort of muse. I want to revise old poems, write new ones, use this blog as a journal to get random thoughts down (to even explore thoughts I didn't even knew I had!).

I don't think a lot of friends understand my relationship (perhaps an odd, sentimental choice of vocabulary, but done so tactfully) with writing. That's fine. I realized over the summer that I probably read more books in three months than most friends will in three years. This not an elitist complaint, I know full well that reading is less exciting than most everything else out there in modernity, but reading and writing are special for me, even though it is not for most of my friends.

Writing is thinking. Explicating thoughts gives me an enormous, unique rush. I love it, and I miss it dearly.

The Acceptability of Uncertainty

Continuing a train of thought that occurred last evening at two o'clock in the morning (celebrating Josh's birthday), during a conversation examining the relating factors of God, science, and reason, I debated uncertainty as an acceptable resolution with regards to one's spirituality and concept of death. I think that it is.

In my religious studies course last semester, the instructor informed the class that certain anthropologist believe that a genesis for establishing religion occurred when our ancestors, with a new, more established ability to be self-aware than previous fore bearers, confronted the biological inevitability of death. The mysterious phenomenon undoubtedly conjured many emotions: fear, curiosity, sadness, etc.

But, perhaps the most important emotion (at least with relation to the eventual anthropomorphic creation of religiosity) was that of uncertainty. Without scientific evidence (a term and concept unknown to our ancestors, but nonetheless experienced in a more primitive form) the human mind was presented with a phenomenon, death, that could not be explained and organized by the human brain.

Our minds are in a perpetual state to make sense of, and organize, what we experience through the various senses and our own emotional state(s). Our languages, which are the most important ways through which we interact with one another, are based on organization, and show how the organizational process works. For instance, to construct a cursory example, we distinguish animals from humans, and certain species of animals from other species. Furthermore, we assign names to these different species so we may categorize what we see. Without this simple organization our minds would be in a state of chaos.

It is precisely this concept that would have affected those, and many today, who are confronted with the idea of death. How does the mind make sense of what it cannot explain?

This is one of the, perhaps most important, foundations of human religiosity: a filing in of the blanks, so to speak. Many individuals who are unsure as to what happens when our bodies expire (as we all are) will choose to "fill in the blanks" by establishing a specific, perhaps even detailed, account of what they are "sure" will happen when death overcomes our consciousness.

For some, it will include a pearly gate, a god with long white hair accompanied by an equally white untrimmed beard. Based on previous art inspired by Judaic-Christian notions of theology, it would appear that God would be Caucasian (although personal ideas of the Almighty will vary from each individual).

Others may believe that once death overtakes our consciousness, we cease to exist entirely (as if a light switch has been flipped to the "down" position).

Returning to conversation which took place yesterday evening, my argument and point rallied itself around this notion: uncertainty is not an unacceptable outcome. In more primitive years, some of our ancestors felt that stars were tiny windows looking into Heaven. That rain was poured upon from some celestial damn.

We now know that stars are not windows, but giant consolidations of gas. Rain does not come from the heavens, but from clouds, products of the Earth's atmosphere. As with the phenomenon of death, individuals attempted to create a reality when actual, true reality was lacking.

Isn't it far wiser to admit one's intellectual limitations? Isn't it better to answer the question, "What do you believe happens when we die?" with a confident "I don't know" than with some fantastic and delusional journey involving, but not limited to, virgins, a rapture, a pearly gate, or reincarnation?

It would be foolish to admit that none of the previous outcomes are impossible. They are not. However, they are far from probable, and most likely remnant ideas of primitive human development, based largely in part on the anthropomorphic establishment of religion.

Doubt should be welcomed, for it allows individuals to debate, think, and reason with whatever force that compels such doubt in the first place. Doubt begets thought. Thought begets intellectual growth, which, in turn begets human development. Uncertainty is acceptable.

It is far wiser than fantasy.

Joe Strummer Book

Former friend of Joe Strummer, Chris Salewicz, wrote what is the most comprehensive biography of the former Clash front man. The 600-plus pages seems to affirm the over twenty-year friendship between Strummer and Salewicz, with information and quotes only known by the closest of friends.

Approaching the post-101'ers point in his life's time line, I have learned far more about one of rock music's most famous writers and singers than in any previous documentary source.

One of the most notable events that affected Strummer was the suicide of his older brother, David. Salewicz regards this tragedy as ultimately affecting the personality of John Mellor, who would later adopt the name of Joe Strummer in the waining life of his first band, the 101'ers.

I initially feel that, at the point where I currently stand with the book, the narrative reads a bit too chaotic, leaving the reader overwhelmed with names and events that have much less to do with Strummer's life. This creates unnecessary hindrances to the book's continuity and stronger narrative passages. As I near the point where the beginnings of the Clash are pages away, I hope that the biographical recounting becomes more organized and, thusly engrossing.

"In Doubt We Trust" Article

Being ridden with a sore throat and a sense of "being out of it" has delayed my commentary on an interesting article in Sunday's Outlook section of the Washington Post.

Essentially, Joel Achenbach argues that an important human response is missing within our country and our government: Doubt. Achenbach comments on how even a brief appearance of uncertainty is construed as weakness. The author argues that, perhaps, doubt is vital in the pursuit of knowledge:

We need to rehabilitate doubt and uncertainty and recognize them as tools for cutting through mushy notions and wishful thinking. We need to stop elevating decisiveness over intelligence in the list of political virtues. We need leaders who think more like scientists, who know that knowledge is provisional, that today's orthodoxy might be invalidated tomorrow. We need to learn how to think again.

Achenbach writes that new books by Al Gore ("The Assault on Reason") and Christopher Hitchens ("God is Not Great") attack absolute knowledge as inferior to genuine longing for the unknown.

Democratic Presidential candidates will, as in the past, struggle with conveying to Americans that they are not "soft" on terrorism. This is largely in part to the perceived (and not always untrue) notion that Democrats do not show tactful resoluteness to terrorism. Republicans have much less to worry about as they are generally viewed by the public to be much stronger. Former Mayor Rudolf Giuliani has been particularly adamant about solidifying his association with September 11, 2001 and with that of being a strong counter-terrorism candidate.

One potential drawback to the Republican dominance of integrity and strength will be that of President Bush criticism. In part elected because of his "down to Earth" qualities, many now feel that the President is wandering in the clouds of absolute idealism. Some could be inclined to associate the administration's "resolve" as foolhardy and dangerous (many do now). This association with the Republican party may give Democrats a small, but important, advantage in the 2008 elections.

It was refreshing to hear a rare plea for the importance of doubt and uncertainty. However, like the author, I do not think the majority of Americans will quickly learn to embrace the humble brilliance of thoughtful doubt.

Being sick...

...is not fun.

Hang out time with Mom

Yesterday afternoon my mother and I spent most of the day together. It was the longest amount of time we've been around one another in quite awhile.

I drove her out to Gaithersburg, Maryland to have her special contact lenses examined and cleaned (I had to smile when, while traveling, she commented that she has never had any desire to live in Maryland at any point in her life-- affirming that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree).

While waiting for the cleaning, we went and bought drinks at a Starbucks. There, we actually held a long-lasting conversation about my parents retirement, my sister's college plans, my friend's new baby, and some other things.

Unfortunately, it has been awhile since I've actually sat down and talked with my mother, or any member of my family, for that long.

It was a nice change.

Buddhism Jank

I started on Brad Warner's second book, "Sit Down and Shut Up." For those unfamiliar with the author, his first book, "Hardcore Zen" served as part memoir and part instruction into Warner's interpretation of Zen Buddhism.

Warner is no newbie. With over twenty years of experience with zazen (Zen) theory and practice, and being an ordained Zen priest, he reads as a knowledgeable instructor (i.e. "no bullshit") of the Eastern religion/philosophy. The foundation of the book is the ongoing examination of the insights of Dogen, a thirteenth-century Japanese Zen Buddhist.

What makes Warner's books unique from traditional surveys of religion is his own past. As bass player for a punk rock band in Akron, Ohio, Warner provides an unorthodox background for his interest in zazen (although the notion of a young individual unsatisfied with "proper" and "traditional" thought, as established by societal norms, turning to a derivation of the Buddha-inspired religion is not so foregone).

Coming from the rhetoric of Christopher Hitchens latest book (see below), "Sit Down and Shut Up" is a far more simple undertaking of writing. This is a strength of the book, as Warner's ethos is far more conversational in tone than scholarly discourse.

With my own experience with Buddhism and Zen (from my coursework at VCU) in the back of my mind, I found much of the first chapters to be a bit drawn-out and boring as they were devoted to subjects I was, for the most part, familiar with. However, I understand that Warner is unsure of his precise audience, and their knowledge of zazen history and implications, which creates the need for the author to clarify.

Another likable aspect of Warner is his admittance of no easy solutions, no instant enlightenment (he does not use condescension by proclaiming to be enlightened himself), and no painless cognitive transitions. He states that if one is serious to learn more about themselves, and how they behave, then one must undertake difficult practices and self-realization techniques to achieve such ends.

I tend to agree with Buddhist notions of "self," and the need to gradually rethink how one's self impacts their life. For instance, in his chapter on anger, Warner interprets a Dogen passage on the subject to impart how it is not the specific event that triggers a feeling of anger (your boss, traffic, your kids, etc.). Instead, it is one's own reaction that will determine how one responds to such unpleasant circumstances.

Warner does a much better job of explaining this than I can at the moment, but it is nonetheless an interesting analysis of the human psyche. I hope the book will continue in this vein.

More with Hitchen's new book...

After completing "God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything," I can't say that I feel much more enlightened, so to speak, with regards to religion and God.

Although I was confirmed in the Roman Catholic religion a few years ago, my approach to "faith," or the unknowable, has drastically changed since that service on the Eve of Easter. Even at the point of my first communion, I did not think that Catholics were better than Protestants, or that other religions were any less poignant. I didn't think the Pope was possessed the abilities as defined by the doctrine of infallibility. I was far from being a fundamentalist.

One interesting point that Hitchens touches upon at various instances in the book is that religion is an anthropomorphic entity. Essentially, God is a product of human imagination and creation. However, how one defines God is quite problematic. Is the God in the Pentateuch the same as that of the New Testament (the latter is more relaxed, the former more...dickhead-ish?).

Hitchens writes:

God did not create man in his own image. Evidently, it was the other way about, which is the painless explanation for the profusion of gods and religions, and the fratricide both between and among faiths, that we see all about us and that has so retarded the development of civilization (8).

Ouch.

One criticism that I have with Hitchens' book is that he does not do enough to distinguish the fundamentalist religious follower with that of the more, for lack of a better word, liberal (or "open-minded," or "with-it") follower. Andrew Sullivan, a gay (and conservative!) Catholic comes immediately to mind. Or the many individuals, whose modest yet no less noble attempts at non-hostile co-habitation, which is often dwarfed by the zealous behavior of the fundamentally-based interpretations of various religionists, are hardly accounted for. Instead, the reader gets the impression that Hitchens gathers all religion-followers into one big pot of "crazy."

The warnings and criticism that Hitchens weighs against fundamental beliefs are quite potent and largely accurate. In addition, the writing ability that he possesses is superb. However, by allocating all religious persons together, Hitchens fails to realize the effects that his belief that God is an anthropomorphic creation has on his larger thesis. It should not be how "religion poisons everything," but how people poison religion.

Springfield is Dutch for "Satan's Crotch!"

If there is one benefit to, once again, living in Springfield for the summer, it is to be surrounded in an ongoing, tangible reminder of the life I don't want. I can't stand the shopping malls (in part because I work next to a monument to dullness: Springfield Mall). I can't stand the rush that people are (or, at least think they are) under. I can't stand that I have to drive everywhere, making the many enjoyable walks I've had in the Fan of Richmond, VA seem too distant in memory.

I think the tipping point came while waiting for my Taco Bell order in the Food Court of the aforementioned Springfield Mall. Looking around and seeing a predominant number of individuals who range from slightly over weight to significantly over weight, encapsulated the dormant laziness that Springfield has, at least compared to my time spent in Richmond.

The adage is: You get out of it what you put into it. I suppose I can be too hard on Springfield from time to time. And I suppose I could rear my attitude to yield less displeasure. But, as I mentioned to Brika while walking in Old Town Alexandria, I think for the most part I can be spot-on with my appraisal.

The good part about being in northern Virginia is the gained proximity to many of my friends. Spending time with them is what keeps me sane (seeing my family and watching a good Nats game also has a similar effect).

Perhaps my relationship with the area of my upbringing has much to do with where I work. While I am content with the amount of money that I will make this summer at the Michael's Frame Shop, I regret not being able to spend more time and creativity with customers because of the need to keep the "assembly line" of production at proper speed. I would love, love, to work at a smaller frame shop with much less traffic, which would enable a much more less-hectic pace of work, and would most likely result in a better product for the customer.

I know, I know, this is a "bitch" post. I just miss the college life at VCU, the neighborhoods in the Fan, and the more deliberate life style I have down there.

I can't wait to go back.

Hitchens' new book

I am about a quarter into Christopher Hitchens' new book, "God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything." My first exposures to Hitchens came from his various appearances on Bill Maher's HBO show, Real Time. Although far from expressing an upbeat personality, Hitchens came off as being a bright thinker. In addition, I had never read an atheist exposition, so I thought his new book might be a good place to start.

The chapters that I have read thus far do not include any theories or philosophies that debunk the existence of a God-entity. Instead, Hitchens writes of his opposition to religious beliefs, particularly the people that hold such beliefs.

For instance, he discusses the religious beliefs that some either create or subscribe to with regards to the use of condoms to reduce the spread of HIV and AIDS in Africa. Some followers of the Christian faith (notably the Vatican) do not support the use of prophylactics, considering them an unnatural phenomenon that God is in opposition to. Hitchens wonders how the continuous support of suffering (thought to be in "accord" with the wishes of God) outweighs the guaranteed aid that the use of condoms would bring.

In the same chapter, Hitchens writes of Muslim leaders who believe that the vaccines used to treat diseases in impoverished countries is a Western ploy to sterilize the "true believers." These leaders encourage anyone who is willing to listen to them to avoid such treatments.

The overall theme of the book (at least thus far) has been to show how religious beliefs and faith can easily corrupt human rationality and one's ability to make sound judgements in an age of science. This point is not a new one, but the rhetorical talent that Hitchens possesses argues these points with a fresh vigor that makes his book an interesting read.

Springfield strikes again

As if the potent monotony of northern Virginia wasn't enough, now I seem to have developed indigestion. Now, common sense dictates that I avoid coffee, soda, pasta, and beer to gauge if it is a passing condition, or something that requires an examination.

Hmmmm...life without coffee, soda, pasta, and beer.

Wonderful.