tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41690866837916163252024-03-13T08:56:08.199-04:00Bridge Over AcheronBAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-7869313261874231842013-02-16T20:54:00.004-05:002013-02-16T20:54:50.258-05:00Response<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is no them where there is
not me,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But because you have no sight you
cannot see;</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where is the human in all that is
divine?</div>
BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-82249292459616179052012-02-12T19:39:00.012-05:002012-02-13T14:40:46.726-05:00Questions...<p class="MsoNormal"> It must have been Middle School when I first realized my parents did not always have the answers, that they were not always right. It was then that I first discovered that I too was human, a small and seemingly insignificant speck. It was during these years that I actively began to question the basic “truths” of life, those big questions relating to God, the afterlife, purpose. All those questions that we have asked each other and ourselves since the beginning of remembered history and will be asking ad infinitum. There's a reason we keep asking them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> In the end it was this search that allowed me to say that I believe in the Christian religion not because of my culture or my parents, though they certainly played a part, but because I myself am a volitional being, capable of choices. The details of this first journey are largely unimportant to me now. The essence of the answer was something like: within complexity, design; within God, love. These two separate paths came together as evidence for a belief I could accept. Undoubtedly the greatest asset of such belief is the sense of foundation it provides, a firm place on which to view what increasingly seems a fluid and complex reality.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> In what I hope is growth, I have since moved on to my second journey. Having been gaining momentum for several years, it now seems to operate with a force that at times feel like hurricane winds. At its root this journey revolves around a surprisingly complex question: How ought I to live as a Christian?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> By this question I do not mean, how ought I to live as a (Baptist/Evangelical/Anglican, etc)? The longer I live the more I seem to grow dissatisfied and pessimistic with myself and the church, tied to tradition. My pastor laments that only 5,000 missionaries are currently serving abroad. He of course only counted those from his own denomination. He laments of a world that is increasingly depraved, and although I find myself nodding I’m not quite sure what he means. Drinking is of course a sin. Swearing as well. Dancing is certainly suspect. Surely Eric Liddell had it right. Worship after all is not something that plays out in life but only something done in church as we sing of God with the vague and uncertain metaphors of positive theology. I dress a certain way on Sunday and use a plethora of stock phrases when it comes to prayer. Oh, how I enjoy those things which make me feel better, not that I judge others for their depravity. I may act out the judgment, but I would never say it. Even if I did say something it was surely only for their sake, so they could know I disapproved.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> Another problem seems to be apathy. As much I say and I’m sure desire at times to “live for Christ,” this tagline is so often reduced to actions which in my mind which are disproportionately weighted to their effectiveness. I can feel good about myself for the week if I attended Sunday School in addition to church—and of course incredibly guilty if I have somehow missed out on what must be an essential element of the Christian life. I can feel good if I occasionally throw a bill in the offering plate. I can feel good if I read my obligatory chapter of the Bible before going to bed or watch a heartfelt drama of a poor family in Africa so I can empathize with their suffering. I like feeling good. And yet, I suspect none of these are the truest marks of a good and faithful servant.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> It is for these reasons that I am drawn to works that question the comfortable life I try to lead, that question that which is so entrenched it has become part of ourselves:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Todd Agnew:</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Cause my Jesus bled and died</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>He spent His time with thieves and the least of these</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>So which one do you want to be?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>I think He'd prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>John Lynch (on the New Testament gamble):</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>“What if I tell them who they are?” What if I take away any element of fear in condemnation, judgment or rejection”?<br /><br />“What if I tell them I love them, will always love them? That I love them right now, no matter what they’ve done, as much as I love my only Son? That there’s nothing they can do to make my love go away”?<br /><br />“What if I tell them there are no lists? What if I tell them I don’t keep a log of past offenses, of how little they pray, how often they’ve let me down, made promises that they don’t keep?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them they are righteous, with my righteousness, right now”?<br /><br />“What if I tell them they can stop beating themselves up? That they can stop being so formal, stiff and jumpy around me?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them I’m crazy about them? What if I tell them, even if they run to the ends of the earth and do the most horrible, unthinkable things, that when they come back, I’d receive them with tears and a party”?<br /><br />“What if I tell them that I am their Savior, they’re going to heaven no matter what--it’s a done deal?<br /><br />“What if I tell them they have a new nature--saints, not saved sinners who should now ‘buck up and be better’ if they were any kind of Christians, after all He’s done for you!”<br /><br />“What if I tell them that I actually live in them now? That I’ve put my love, power, and nature inside of them, at their disposal?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them that they don’t have to put on a mask? That it is OK to be who they are at this moment, with all their junk. That they don’t need to Pretend about how close we are, how much they pray or don’t, how much Bible they read or don’t?”<br /><br />“What if they knew they don’t have to look over their shoulder for fear if things get to good, the other shoe’s gonna drop?”<br /><br />“What if they knew I will never, ever use the word “punish” in relation to them?”<br /><br />“What if they knew that when they mess up, I will never 'get back at them'?”<br /><br />“What if they were convinced that bad circumstances aren’t my way of evening the score for taking advantage of me?”<br /><br />“What if they knew the basis of our friendship isn’t how little they sin, but how much they let me love them?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them they can hurt my heart, but that I never hurt theirs?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them I like U2’s music too?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them I never really liked the Christmas hand bell deal with the white gloves?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them they can open their eyes when they pray and still go to heaven?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them there is no secret agenda, no trapdoor?”<br /><br />“What if I tell them it isn’t about their self-effort, but about allowing me to live my life through them?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Don Miller:</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p style="margin-top:1.7pt;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:1.7pt;margin-left: 0in;text-indent:.5in;line-height:18.85pt;background:white"><i>Here are the things I didn't like about the churches I went to. First: I felt like people were trying to sell me Jesus. I was a salesman for a while, and we were taught that you are supposed to point out all the benefits of a product when you are selling it. That is how I felt about some of the preachers I heard speak. They were always pointing out the benefits of Christian <a href="http://www.beliefnet.com/faiths" target="_blank"><span style="color:windowtext;text-decoration:none;text-underline: none">faith</span></a>. That rubbed me wrong. It's not that there aren't benefits, there are, but did they have to talk about spirituality like it's a vacuum cleaner. I never felt like Jesus was a product. I wanted Him to be a person. Not only that, but they were always pointing out how great the specific church was. The bulletin read like a brochure for Amway. They were always saying how life-changing some conference was going to be. Life-changing? What does that mean? It sounded very suspicious. I wish they would just tell it to me straight rather than trying to sell me on everything. I felt like I got bombarded with <a href="http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Christianity/2006/01/How-To-Find-A-Church-That-Doesnt-Bug-You.aspx"><span style="color:windowtext;text-decoration:none;text-underline:none"><span style="outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; bottom: auto; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; font-size: inherit; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; border-bottom-color: transparent; float: none; right: auto; " id="itxthook1w0">commercials</span></span></a> all week and then went to church and got even more.<br /><br style="outline-width: 0px;outline-style: initial;outline-color: initial"> And yet another thing about the churches I went to: They seemed to be parrots for the Republican Party. Do we have to tow the party line on every single issue? Are the Republicans that perfect? I just felt like, in order to be a part of the family, I had to think George W. Bush was Jesus. And I didn't. I didn't think that Jesus really agreed with a lot of the policies of the Republican Party or for that matter the Democratic Party. I felt like Jesus was a religious figure, not a political figure. I heard my pastor say once, when there were only a few of us standing around, that he hated Bill Clinton. I can understand not liking Clinton's policies, but I want my spirituality to rid me of hate, not give me reason for it. I couldn't deal with that. That is one of the main reasons I walked away. I felt like, by going to this particular church, I was a pawn for the Republicans. Meanwhile, the Republicans did not give a crap about the causes of Christ.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:1.7pt;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:1.7pt; margin-left:0in;line-height:18.85pt;background:white"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:1.7pt;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:1.7pt; margin-left:0in;text-indent:.5in;line-height:18.85pt;background:white"><i>Only one more thing that bugged me, then I will shut up about it. War metaphor. The churches I attended would embrace war metaphor. They would talk about how we are in a battle, and I agreed with them, only they wouldn't clarify that we were battling poverty and hate and injustice and pride and the powers of darkness. They left us thinking that our war was against liberals and homosexuals. Their teaching would have me believe I was the good person in the world and the liberals were the bad people in the world. Jesus taught that we are all bad and He is good, and He wants to rescue us because there is a war going on and we are hostages in that war. The truth is we are supposed to love the hippies, the liberals, and even the Democrats, and that God wants us to think of them as more important than ourselves. Anything short of this is not true to the teachings of Jesus.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Back to me:</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> I don't know what it means to live as a Christian. I am almost certain I will not find the answer through responses like: follow God's leading in your heart, live as an ambassador for Christ, etc. While they may be true, they ignore the entire practical level on which life is actually lived.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Perhaps the question is too complex. Perhaps I simply should be asking: How ought I to live? Should I write a blog about how homosexuals are destroying America or actually get to know one? Would evangelism be more effective if I gave out more tracts with pithy covers or invited my unsaved friends out for a beer? Can I actually open my eyes during prayer and still go to heaven? Can I have long hair and ride a motorcycle and still be a Christian? I don’t know where the end will lead, for I am yet in the midst of the journey. I am pretty sure though it will not, at least for me, lead to a motorcycle. I do not have the answers yet. I’m only asking the questions.</p>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-38865117093155405532011-11-29T20:54:00.004-05:002011-11-29T20:58:56.336-05:00KnowledgeI don't know. I embrace that uncertainty.<div>And yet I am pushed to declaration.</div><div>Where is the wisdom in all that is sure?<br /><div><br /></div></div>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-19548360680160638082011-11-28T14:23:00.003-05:002011-11-29T20:59:25.414-05:00ChurchI don't see you, Lord. I only see them.<div>And because I know myself I judge them.</div><div>Where is the divine in all that is human?</div>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-53115299495784327712011-06-10T20:33:00.002-04:002011-06-10T20:35:20.196-04:00Cars and Stuff<p class="MsoNormal">My apologies for the four month delay. Well, not really. I'll post when I feel like it.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I’d like to share some recent thoughts that come to me when stopping at red lights. Did you ever notice when the light turns green, the car in front always starts a half second or so sooner than the car behind it? This is of course a natural course of events, but it got me thinking…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>In my mind I imagine a long and straight dark road stretching to infinity. On the side of the road there is nothing but dirt, gravel, and the occasional tuft of a bush struggling to survive. At the beginning of this road there are two cars. The one in front a black sedan. The one in the back a sort of mauve coupe, an adjective which I only use to sound more sophisticated than I actually am.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The black car is twenty feet or so in front of the mauve. Although they both accelerate at the same speed, (let’s say two feet per second per second) the black car in front will start a half-second sooner. Thus, although they were originally only twenty feet apart, by the end of the first second that distance will have become slightly over twenty-one. By the end of the second second (a funny phrase if there ever was one) that distance would be nearly twenty-four feet. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>In my mind, which for some reason is always from the perspective of the second driver, the car in front is slowly getting further and further away. (although “farther” is more grammatically correct, I use the other option purposefully) While at first it is close enough to make out details, in just a short time it will become a speck on the horizon. In time, even that speck will be lost. I find this unbelievably sad. After all, they both had the same acceleration and starting point, one just had the unfortunate quirk of starting only a half-second after. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I hope when you, my twos of readers, come to your next stoplight you recall this story of the mauve car as the car in front gains distance. On that day may you find the experience equally depressing, even if neither of us are sure exactly why. </p>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-85815827576174155862011-02-21T22:58:00.004-05:002011-02-21T23:12:36.069-05:00short story recommendation<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; "><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"I'd like to be a hunter, sir. You know. Hold a harpoon? Fire a crossbow? I wouldn't mind just reloading for the other hunters until I get the hang of it."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"Don't be silly. You couldn't do that while out in the center of the field, being bait!"</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"I wasn't talking about doing that <i>while</i> being bait. I'd rather do it <i>instead</i> of being bait. Sir."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"But nobody else has yer special gift, son."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"I don't think it's all that great . . ."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"Why, sure it is! In all my years hunting dragons, I've <i>never</i> met someone who attracts them like you do. You've got a gift."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"The gift of smelling delicious to dragons? Sir, I never asked for this."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"Just 'cause a gift is unexpected doesn't mean it ain't a gift."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">"A knife to the back can be unexpected. That doesn't make it a gift either. Sir."</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; "><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; "></span></p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; ">Alas, of the credit of this rather amusing work goes not to myself but to Brandon Sanderson, a somewhat new and rather brilliant writer. This is an excerpt of an attempt to create a short story based solely on dialogue. The complete story can be seen at:</p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; "><a href="http://brandonsanderson.com/library/91/Recent-Short-Stories-I-Hate-Dragons">http://brandonsanderson.com/library/91/Recent-Short-Stories-I-Hate-Dragons</a></p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; "><br /></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-indent: 1.4em; line-height: 1.3em; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; "><br /></p></span>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-70205673154609180322010-11-15T00:34:00.003-05:002010-11-15T02:16:58.064-05:00The Great Irony Between the Author and his Readers<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The reader exists in a nexus with the writer of fiction. Several theories have been proposed to explain the nature of this nexus. Samuel Coleridge was the first to use the phrase “suspension of disbelief.” The reader temporarily suspends his judgment regarding fantastical or non-realistic elements in order for pleasure or some other non-physical capital. The reader accepts that a wardrobe can really transport children to an alternate world and accepts that ghosts truly can appear to show someone the true meaning of Christmas.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In a radio interview Guillermo Del Toro was asked concerning the difference between directing a film and writing a book. Del Toro replied that there was an inherent difference between the forms. Whereas in film the events will always happen at the same pace and in the same way, a book allows the reader to become a co-director. He follows the guideline provided by the author and in his mind creates the world following the guidelines of his own imagination. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">This is similar to the idea of “sub-creation” put forward by J.R.R. Tolkien in his article "On Fairy-Stories." This idea accepts that the writer becomes like a god as he creates the new and the reader as well who forms the same world again in his own mind. The reader chooses to believe the work based on its inner-consistency. Although certain elements may differ from the “primary world,” in the “secondary world” of literature the reader can accept them as true. Of course, the form is not universally appreciated. Tolkien writes,</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Fantasy, of course, starts out with an advantage: arresting strangeness. But that advantage has been turned against it, and has contributed to its disrepute. Many people dislike being “arrested.” They dislike any meddling with the Primary World, or such small glimpses of it as are familiar to them. They, therefore, stupidly and even maliciously confound Fantasy with Dreaming, in which there is no Art; and with mental disorders, in which there is not even control: with delusion and hallucination.”</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Still others find a hard time restricting judgment, based on stan<span><span>dards of the primary world. This is often seen among fundamentalist Christians who disregard such works as</span></span> Harry Potter as inherently Satanic merely through its use of magic. This is not to say that the reader should not judge the work based on standards, even moral ones. Instead, there ought to be some amount of charity on the part of the reader who can accept a new world without bringing false standards of mistaken piety, accepting a story on its own definitions, its own merits. They may even find themselves drawn in to something beyond themselves.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In the same article Tolkien mentions that good fantasy (or even science fiction) is hard to create. He writes:</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Fantasy has also an essential drawback: it is difficult to achieve. . . “the inner consistency of reality” is more difficult to produce, the more unlike are the images and the rearrangements of primary material to the actual arrangements of the Primary World. It is easier to produce this kind of “reality” with more “sober” material. Fantasy thus, too often, remains undeveloped; it is and has been used frivolously, or only half-seriously, or merely for decoration: it remains merely “fanciful.”<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: black; "> </span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">This statement, however, seems to be flawed, even wrong if I wanted to be more forceful. To adopt the language from the first theory, suspension of disbelief is required when the reader encounters something he realizes in inconsistent with the primary world. Works are <i>not</i> judged only by their internal consistency, but also on how well they fit in with the primary world where they are expected to.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Historical fiction often grapples with this problem. No matter how internally consistent the story may be, certain elements are supposed to correspond to the primary world. This is why it requires a great deal of research in order to produce a novel, which though it may be fiction, accurately reflects the world in which it is portrayed. Undoubtedly, certain mistakes will easily be missed by the general reader who cannot spot the discrepancies. The same text, however, when read by one experience in knowledge of the era could easily spot the discrepancies. The more familiar the reader is with the supposed context of the story, the easier the discrepancies are seen.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Tolkien’s statement errs because it mixes these two problems: internal-consistency on the one hand and consistency between the primary and secondary world on the other. Discrepancies found in historical fiction often have nothing to do with the first problem. Yes, spittoons may not have been used in sixteenth century England, but this does not mean the work is internally inconsistent. The writer of any fiction thus grapples with twin beasts.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The same struggle is often seen in science fiction. In a story that takes place in the near-future, authors find themselves struggling to produce a believable secondary world. Actions by various nations are often seen as patently ridiculous by many readers because they differ with how the reader views the world. Again, this does not fail the test of internal consistency, but, it does fail the second test. It fails to match elements in the secondary world which ought to be consistent with the primary world. </span></span></p> <span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Like the scholar of sixteenth-century England reading a book on Queen Elizabeth, inconsistencies between the primary and secondary world are evident based on the amount of knowledge the reader supposes he has of the context. Here is found the great irony of the suspension of disbelief. In general, it is actually easier to suspend judgment as the story becomes <i>more</i> fantastical in nature, <i>more</i> divorced from reality. The further divorced from the reader’s knowledge or experience, the easier the tale becomes to write. Suddenly, the reader stops looking for connections between the primary and secondary world, and instead only focuses, even if merely at a subconscious level, on just the internal consistency of the work. By divorcing the story from reality, the writer encounters only one hobgoblin where before there was two. And, as any adventurer who had made his way through the blood forests of Grishnaw would know, fighting one hobgoblin alone is always easier than facing two.</span></span></span>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-22858070803129491812010-11-05T16:24:00.002-04:002010-11-05T16:27:43.299-04:00A Commentary on Life's Possibilities...<div>Once there was a little bear,</div><div>His name was Buffy Bill;</div><div>He was furry, full of hair,</div><div>He went up on a hill.</div><div><br /></div><div>When he reached the top of the mound</div><div>Oh! The things he spied;</div><div>he could see for miles around,</div><div>until he fell and died.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSCYBTsUkwl_NAEv6OsOEspxH3SZOmwf6R5K5t25G_4TpsB_YE&t=1&usg=__r-UkaENyj6nVBZ1YNkMcXDgzK_w=" /></div>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-15247650934252325282010-08-12T10:49:00.003-04:002010-08-12T12:00:28.730-04:00A Constructive Conspiracy<div>What sometimes annoys me is that I know of no site where I can find accurate charts that provide up-to-date numbers and charts detailing the current financial situation. If anyone happens to know a good one, please provide the link below. However, as a result of my own search, I provide you with the charts below. I apologize that they all do not cover the same dates, and I realize I left out many other factors. This is not a comprehensive list, only a few of the important ones all in the same place:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>US UNEMPLOYMENT RATE</b></div><img src="http://www.npr.org/news/graphics/charts/gr-unemployment.png" alt="Graph showing the U.S. unemployment rate" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><b>GROSS DOMESTIC PRODUCT </b>(percentage change) [a little hope at the end here, though it seems to be going back down again]</div><div><img src="http://www.bsu.edu/ibb/us/gdp00.gif" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>PERSONAL SAVINGS</b> (in Billions) [It seems that the recession continues to eat away at Americans' savings]</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://www.bsu.edu/ibb/US/sav.gif" /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://www.housingwire.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/Screen-shot-2010-07-09-at-9.25.02-AM.png" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And of course: <b>US NATIONAL DEBT</b></div><div><img src="http://www.michaelmatthews.com/images/US_National_Debt_Chart_2010.gif" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>One final note of personal speculation: (which will also be a dramatic over-simplification of the situation. Deal with it)</div><div><br /></div><div> It seems that "corporate America" is sitting on around 1.8 trillion dollars in reserve. While many are upset that such institutions are not releasing the money into the American economy, I rather think that these companies are following sound logic. Let me explain. If such institutions did release their capital en masse undoubtedly it would have a positive effect on the economy. However, the only way Republicans will take back the House in 86 days or so is if the economy remains stagnant. Thus, it is in the best interests of the companies to hesitate for several more months in order to secure a Republican victory, thereby ensuring there will be no new major taxes pushed through by the Democratic Party on their institutions. It makes sense that these companies will avoid such "uncertain markets" as they hold off for better prospects.</div><div><br /></div><div> The politically minded citizen ought to take note of these companies. Your dollar is currently worth more than your vote in November. For those who wish for a Republican takeover, you ought to cease all extraneous spending. It is in your best interests to continue or even worsen the recession for the next several months. Hold off on buying that new dvd or book; instead, keep your money in the bank. As soon as we again have a Republican majority, make a withdraw and go out and buy everything you've been waiting on. The major companies at the same time will start releasing their own capital. Thus, in the immediate months after the election there will be an immediate boost in the economy as Americans leave the recession behind. Such a reversal will be so immediate that it will only be attributable to the Republican takeover, setting the ground for a Presidential victory in 2012. </div></div>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-42929980393655043252010-07-22T12:01:00.001-04:002010-07-22T12:02:46.695-04:00FascinatingI have a couple new posts in mind but no time to work on them while I'm at home. So, for now, here's a link I found fascinating:<br /><br />http://www.skytopia.com/project/fractal/mandelbulb.htmlBAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-54215631306968265882010-06-18T19:11:00.009-04:002010-08-04T13:13:30.966-04:00Book Review(ish) - Worthing SagaAmong the books listed in my last post, perhaps the least well known is <em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Worthing</span> Saga</em> by Orson Scott Card. If the true power of great literature is judged by its ability to influence the reader, then for me this book is one of the greatest works I have ever read.<br /><br />Orson Scott Card himself writes within several genres, most notably science fiction. Although a Mormon, it is rare to see any direct religious references come through in much of his work. (not something I find fault with, merely an observation) <em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Worthing</span> Saga</em> is different. As a story it sets up clear parallels between the Fall of Man in Genesis as well as to the theme of the book of Job. In a mere 300 pages the novel covers a broad philosophical spectrum: man's purpose in life, man's place within community, the purpose of government, the danger of technology, urban planning, etc. However, the main focus of this blog is on the novel's answer to the cry of Job.<br /><br />To maintain the book's full power for any who wish to read it, I am going to avoid a complete discussion of the plot. At the beginning of the book, however, we are introduced to a society that wakes up to what will come to be known as "The Day of Pain." For the first time anger gives way to violence. For the first time people have accidents which cause great injury. For the first time women die in childbirth. People in this village wonder what has befallen them. Did God die? If God was still watching over them, why is there such suffering?<br /><br />The novel eventually answers this basic question by <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">arguing</span> that it is not right to prevent anyone from feeling the full force of pain. On one level, people and communities are only able to grow when they can learn from pain, learn from their mistakes. Even more important than this is the notion that without pain people become emotionally stunted. One can only know true joy, this book argues, when you also know the full extent of pain and depravity. Before I read this book, I would have said that this was not true. After all, must one watch a poor movie in order to appreciate one that is well-done. After reading this book, I wonder.<br /><br />As I read this book, I couldn't help but relate its discussion of pain to my own Christian theology. I recall one time in a freshman theology class at college a fellow student asked an intriguing question. "Mankind has already fallen once," he said. "What is to prevent us in heaven from falling again?" I remember the teacher responded to this question by positing that perhaps the nature of humanity in heaven is inherently different somehow that humanity in Eden. For myself, this novel provided a clear answer to this question. The very experience of pain alters each individual in a profound way.<br /><br />Yes, the nature of humanity in heaven is different. It was the one commandment in Genesis 2:17 that man was not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Before the fall, man could be considered to be in a state of innocence. After the fall, we fell into a state of depravity. By the grace of God, through the process of salvation and our ascension to heaven, we shed our sin natures as we become like Christ. We do not shed, however, our experience of the process, our memories. We will forever remember what it was like to live in a world of sin, a world of pain. We will forever have lived through "The Day of Pain."<br /><br />It is through this process that humanity will be able to understand more fully the nature of joy. I dare to posit that man is actually a greater creature in heaven than he ever could have been without the Fall. It is in this that Romans 8:28 shines out all the clearer. "And we know that all things work together for good <strong>to those who love God</strong>, to those who are called according to His purpose." All events do not work together for good for every man. It is only to those who love God that things will work together for good. Even then it seems to me that basic life experience shows that on earth all things do not work together for good to those who love God. It is only when heaven is included in the equation that this verse is possible. I think too many miss this basic point.<br /><br />Would we ever be able to enjoy the full impact of God's unending and unfathomable grace and mercy without knowing the full extent or our own depravity? Adam and Eve in the garden then become emotionally stunted creatures, devoid of not only of knowledge of God's greatness, but even of the ability to feel great joy and happiness. Yet God in his foreknowledge saw mankind's fall before we were even created, and in this knowledge foreordained a process of transformation. Could this not have been God's final purpose in his creation?BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-43594990216769392652010-06-16T19:43:00.007-04:002010-06-18T17:25:14.091-04:00The Genre is the MetaphorIt seems to be that more than any other genre, Science Fiction is able to focus on the human race in three disctint ways. It asks three simple questions: What are we? What ought we to be? What will we be?<br /><br /><em>1984 </em>and <em>Brave New World</em> each illustrate the prophetic nature of Sci-Fi, in this case predicting rather bleak futures in which mankind is the author of its own destruction.<br /><br />Other works illustrate the opposite, a basic belief in humanism. Examples include Asimov's <em>Foundation Trilogy</em>, Orson Scott Card's <em>Worthing Saga</em>, and Frank Herbert's <em>Dune</em>. (though this last one is certainly debatable)<br /><br />Often Sci-Fi works are able to focus on what it means to be human by setting up a comparison with what isn't. James Cameron is a master of this technique, doing so in four of his films, most recently Avatar.<br /><br />Many works focus on a single aspect of human nature, often his aggressive and warlike impulses. In Orson Scott Card's <em>Enders Game</em> such focus is brilliantly contrasted with man's empathy.<br /><br />I am in no way saying that only Sci-Fi is able to address these three basic questions, or even that it always does so. However, it seems clear to me that all genres are coupled with natural strengths and weaknesses. Westerns are narrow in their field of scope. Romances easily fall prey to the hobgoblins of repetiveness and tripe.<br /><br />While Sci-Fi is not without its own specters, as a genre it has the natural strength of lending itself to casuist concerns. Perhaps this is because by its nature it focuses on questions of the future. Perhaps this is because of its often large scope, covering large areas of space and vast amounts of time (Asimov's "The Last Question") Perhaps this is because of its focus on an individual's place within society, on his ability to impact change.<br /><br />*Author recommends every example listed aboveBAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4169086683791616325.post-85863133470295558082010-06-16T11:50:00.009-04:002011-02-21T23:25:51.362-05:00Patient #1 - Short Story<span style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse;font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13;" class="Apple-style-span"> <p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor walked slowly down the corridor, leaning heavily on his cane. Time had long since stopped being his friend as each day his body seemed to advance a little further in its war against his desires. He reached his hand up to stroke his beard, but stopped himself from the habit. He had grown fond of his beard. It first appeared almost forty years ago after his wife had told him it made seem more friendly and approachable.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">Soldiers saluted as he passed by. Briefly he entertained the thought that they were saluting for him, the famous and well-respected psychologist known across the academic land. No, that was not the case. They saluted the flashy and slightly repulsive man who walked beside him. The general reeked of his own arrogance and power. Others would assume that as they walked the general had been talking about his extensive views on politics and intermixed with lengthy descriptions of <em>his </em>army base. The doctor knew the man truly spoke only about himself. The general was a man living his life in chains, bound by the very expectations he had placed on himself. The doctor laughed a little after this thought, wasn’t this true of everyone?</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“You find the defenses amusing?” asked the general curiously as they stopped before a door at the end of the hall. Two more guards were stationed outside the door. The general assured him there were at least two directly outside the door every our of the day and night. “The precautions are after all only commensurate to the value of what they guard."</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor smiled for the general. There was of course no way that he could find such precautions amusing. Such a great find of such vast importance had to be protected in all ways possible.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“Hmm,” mused the general. “Protection is I suppose one function of the guards. But a door can go both ways, no?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The general gestured to one of the guards who turned and keyed in an access code. The door slid smoothly open. The general walked forward, but the doctor put his arm on the general’s shoulder. The doctor worked alone. There was to be no interference from the outside.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The general looked vaguely annoyed at this, but the doctor reassured him that this had been part of the initial agreement on his part to come. The general gave a smile that only barely hid the annoyance the man obviously felt as he again agreed to this. The doctor gave a grateful smile and leaned heavily on his cane as he walked into the room.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The room was large and dimly lit by soft overhead lights. It had several areas divided into sections by furniture. Off to the left was obviously a bedroom with a small living area off to the right. In the back of the room were two wooden overflowing bookshelves. The doctor understood that he would not be truly alone with the subject, the many cameras mounted on the ceiling made sure of that. It was in the back of the room that the doctor was given his first view of the boy. The boy seemed to be about eleven years old and was wearing workout pants with a white t-shit as he stood on an exercise mat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The boy of course knew the doctor had entered, but had given no indication as yet of acknowledgement. The doctor was fine with this and stood waiting to be received. Better to give the other the illusory position of power by being able to start the conversation on his own terms.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The boy’s body stretched and contorted as he exercised. It looked like some form of Yoga or Tai Chi, but as the doctor studied he was fairly sure this was neither. Perhaps it was something of the boy’s own invention.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">Whatever it may have been, it was certainly impressive. However difficult the position, the boy’s face was one of outward calm. As he continued, the only sign of difficulty was the slight shaking of the limbs and the constant drips of sweat that had already darkened the mat beneath.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">A small measure of guilt wafted past the doctor’s mind as he turned his awareness toward his own body. Not really overweight. He had never been truly overweight. Of course, he had never been that healthy either. So what if he liked desserts and disliked exercise? That was only the natural state of things. The doctor wouldn’t apologize for giving in to such desires. He was older now, and it was no use moping about things that were now too late to change.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The boy finished and lay on the floor, his eyes now closed and almost covered by his blond hair. The doctor thought he might have drifted to sleep. However, the boy’s breathing belied this thought, too intentional to be real.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“What do you want?” demanded the boy after a space, opening his eyes and tilting his head slightly to give the doctor a cold, calculating stare. The boy’s eyes were a dark blue, a deep blue.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor felt suddenly uncomfortable beneath the unrelenting gaze, the eyes that seemed to look through him rather than at him. Put such foolish thoughts out of your mind the doctor chided himself. He took a couple steps forward, slightly exaggerating his limp. See, I am of no threat at all. The doctor introduced himself, but the boy seemed uncaring about such things.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“So many before you have tried,” said the boy, obviously aware of the reason behind the visit. “They have all went away disappointed.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The boy sat up and dropped the smile. The doctor, however, had expected such a welcome. He had already decided that the best strategy would be the truth. As the general had explained on the first day he had come to his office to request his assistance, the boy had been discovered and captured over forty years ago. To this day, he had shown no sign of outward aging. How long had this boy been alive? How had this happened? These were the questions, and it was a mystery where only one knew the answer.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“And what if I give you the answer?” asked the boy with a hint of contempt. “What then? Will you fall down and offer your thanks? Will whichever government that is in power now share this gift to all without prejudice? Is it even a gift that ought to be shared? What will I become when my body and memory are of no further use?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor came then to accept what he hadn't allowed himself to believe. This boy had more experience and wisdom than his youthful frame suggested. The doctor could again only reply to such questions with part of the truth. The boy’s eyes argued that he would know if the doctor said anything other. But there’s no need to assume the worst.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“There is a story about two birds I once heard,” replied the boy. “The fox only has time to kill one. The other is able to fly away.” The boy paused briefly. “But then the other dies from a hunter the next day."</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">A sense of humor, maybe just depression? Either way the boy showed no trust at all. The boy has closed himself away.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor stayed for a little while longer before ending the first session. This couldn’t be solved with just one visit. If any trust could develop, it could only happen slowly.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor came back every week. The boy often would not talk to him at all. Sometimes the boy simply got in his bed and went to sleep.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The boy’s breakdown was unexpected and sudden. After constantly ignoring the doctor through action, inaction, or simply through sarcastic remarks, on one visit the boy finally let his guard down.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">It began with the boy’s own comment in a moment of uncharacteristic verbosity. “All of you,” said the boy, “You drift through life in terror. You live ever hour in a constant mire of misery and imagine to yourself that if only you could live forever, all misery would fall away from you like ice melting in the sun.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor was surprised. The boy’s words were poetic. The doctor smiled and replied that maybe this statement said more about the boy than it did about him. Despite all the egotism such a statement implied, despite the haughty and cold demeanor he gave the doctor in every visit, despite the derision and scorn and unabashed loathing the boy displayed, was this not all simply a wall to protect him from misery?</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">After all, the saddest moments of life are the times we say goodbye to something we've come to love. Maybe such a person as he would never have to say goodbye to life, but everything and everyone else has to say goodbye to him. Maybe such a person would actually be a little envious of those who walked ahead of himself.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“Foolish,” said the boy as he stood up and walked away.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">Perhaps he was thinking of memories of long ago. Perhaps he saw images of smiling friends, a laughing sister, a loving family. A long life must certainly have been filled with many friends over the years. Was it hard to say goodbye? Was it even harder knowing you couldn’t follow?</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“Shut up,” yelled the boy from the corner. “And I’m not crying,” protested the boy in response to the doctor’s glance, but the boy’s hand wiping his face clearly said something else.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor ignored the command and pressed onward. Perhaps the boy had once sought comfort by making new friends. Perhaps he found solace in their laughter. Was it harder to say goodbye the second time? Was it ever harder the third? How could such a pattern not drive a person mad? Ah, that was how. The doctor explained his sudden revelation. The process could perhaps be stopped by setting up a wall, by refusing to seek solace. Perhaps time itself would lend its aid. Everything is easier to bear the next morning. But what if all you saw was a reminder? This boy wasn’t arrogant at all. He didn’t look down on others. He envied them. They weren’t left alone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The boy’s body in the corner racked with sobs. The doctor didn’t know what to say to comfort him. What could be said? Was it going to get better? The doctor simply walked to the boy and held him close. What else was there to do? When the tears were at last spent, the boy slept. The doctor set him down softly.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">Departing the room he was greeted with an eager face. The boy was broken; he would surely tell the doctor everything. The doctor simply must come back tomorrow for the next interview or better yet go back in now, take advantage of the boy’s weakness.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor looked the general in the eye. “Let the boy go,” he said softly. “Let him find what peace he can in his own way. Let his curse live and die with him alone.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor walked away, leaving only stunned faces in his wake.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">“This is to help others,” yelled the general after him. “This secret could help cure diseases. It could help save millions of lives. It could change the world! How could you walk away from this?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;">The doctor, however, continued to lean on his cane and amble slowly down the hall, disgusted at the man who continued to shout after him. Others may think he spoke of humanitarianism. The doctor knew that the man spoke only of himself.</span></p></span>BAFLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606954641918377111noreply@blogger.com2