To Live Is Christ

Email Dualravens

patrick @ dualravens.com

Thoughts

What occurs to me about personal things - internal, external, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada.  

2/22/04

I go through lulls in life and writing, times in which I retreat and then later will emerge once more.  I am in a mood of retreat, of feeling a burden of writing which I do not like, and can only pray to overcome.  My attention has been diverted, and now I feel like throwing in the towel.  I won't of course.  What I must do is be willing to accept this present lull, not beat myself up over not wanting to spend ten hours a day in web design or email, and let God work in and through me, trusting that the source of anything good in me is not me, but the Spirit who works as it will.  

Today, I take a step back, and reconsider what is happening.  On Sunday I felt a renewed passion to write, then I left for the day, and now it is gone.  It is a weariness to be sure, of what cause I do not know.  It weighs me down right now, feeling much the same as I did when I was involved at my former church.   

A word of encouragement, or act of encouragement really, would be nice, but that is not my hope in the present.  There are just times I feel the void all around, and retreat into it, the void that only by wading through will I find the Answer at the end.  

I cannot fight battles which are not mine to fight, nor worry about issues which I have no decisions to solve.  I can only do that which is before me, taking each step and acting in accordance with my call.  Whenever my purview becomes to grand, I lose my step.  

In all of this I do not know the results or finale, I do know that I am increasingly identifying with those in the desert, who wanted to shake off all that binds while embracing all that builds.  

2/29/04

You know, for a while there I was worried.  I haven't been to church for a while, you see, and feel fine with the fact.  Yeah, I know the verses, "don't give up meeting with one another."  The fact was I found myself more spiritually alert by skipping on a Sunday, than by forcing myself to check that box on the piety list.  I got to wondering recently if maybe there was something going on, if I was slipping.  No, I realized this past week, I'm fine.  

You see, I saw the Passion again, and you can tell by my week's worth of writing in Present Matters it resounded, getting me excited again, getting my mind moving, even inspiring thoughts of continued study.  (And, for that matter, getting me interested in leading a Bible Study again, though there is not the context for that).  What is it?  It's the fact that Gibson told the tale.  That's it.  I don't need moralizing, I don't need to hear the ten steps to being a better father.  I don't need to hear the litany of pop psychology which passes for Evangelical Christianity.  I need to hear the story.  It is my morale which is shot, lost because I lose sight of the goal, the end, the Way.  At times it gets difficult to motivate myself in this.  

So, Church, for me, has to be the context where I am reminded of the theoria, the reverence, the glory, the passion of a life lived with Christ.  I don't need to be sold, or be convinced to sell, I need to take again hold of that for which Christ took hold of me.  Gibson excited me because he told the story, a story I need to hear.  He didn't get in its way with personal anecdotes, or shoddy research.  He told the story, the story which brings life, and which I have brought my life to seek.  

A person can go a long time and subsist on junk food, not even knowing the lack of nutrition.  I am now at the point where I simply don't have the patience for anything other than the focused purpose.  I thrive on the story, and find myself frustrated by the peripherals.  It is nice to see that passion still in me.  I missed it for a while there.  

2/20/04

My monthly check in apparently.  For some reason I've had a sense of re-evaluation of my situation.  Not that I am opposed to it or seek immediate change, just that it would be worth going back and taking a look within, pursuing the cause for which I fight in more clarity.  I did not plan to stay this long in the hills.  My plan was to step back, then forward again.  However, stepping forward again is not coming to me.  I am strangely content.  Strangely, because I am not supposed to be content, I am not supposed to value this retreat from life.

I left to write.  And I am.  Charged with a different task than what I came up here with.  I am not, oddly, in a hurry.  I have faith, but I do not want it, I want to fight it.   What I feel is not what others tell me I should feel, not what they feel for me.  I have confidence, and it's not what they say I should know.  

It's not impressive, that is for sure, it is not what something I could point to and say, "Look, here I am."  What is it?  It is the approaching, I believe, of my borders here, "To live is Christ, To die is Gain."  That was my prayer, oh about ten years ago, that I might understand it, and say it.  I know, a foolish prayer, because God intended to answer it.  

I am not there yet, because I won't let myself succumb to it, I want to hold on to that which connects me to this present world in its visible manifestations.  I want to impress, to teach, to walk in a community.  And yet incomplete I am without worth, it is only through this present process I will be able to be whole without demanding of others to feed my soul.  

When will it be done?  When it is done.  God will call.  I must be ready for that call.  That is my only concern.  At least it should be.  

1/8/04

Yeah, that's right, not a single thought this whole month.  Well, it's more the reason that my present matters has drifted more broadly. 

Read a little diatribe against weblogs earlier today, and ya' know I kinda agree with it.  The whole time I was nodding my head and putting myself into a category.  I basically fall into the Aspiring Writer category, which is what I am.  

Even before I read this, I wrestled with the reason for this effort.  I've stopped at times when I convince myself I am doing this for less than noble reasons, such as wanting praise or an audience.  I start again when I want to write on topics which don't seem to come out when I write in a journal.  

Not surprisingly to some who know me I struggle at times with deep depression.  I look on the bright side and say most of the creative genius's in history had the same problem.  Journaling, for some reason always tapped into that side of me, always releasing an inner turmoil and exposing deep emotional wounds.  

But for some reason, when there is at least a potential for an audience, I turn this tide and focus on my more positive contributions, letting my willingness to communicate to the outside get me past my oft destructive inner monologue.  

To be honest, this is why I don't have comments, and I don't bother to check how much visits I get on this site.  For all I know I am the only one reading this, and that's fine.  If someone else has found this place and is reading these words I am certainly glad you are here, don't get me wrong.  What I realized, though, is there is a great potential for vainglory in writing on a webpage.  That I realized is one of the dominant deadly vices all throughout the internet.   So, I want to communicate, but I know I can't ever depend on getting validation from others.  (Not that I don't want any, if you have some, it's just that I can't be a person who seeks it out).  

So, why write?  Why do I do this?  I do this because I want to write, I want to write a lot everyday in a variety of mediums on a variety of topics.  This is only a portion of my daily writing, much of which is not seen by any eyes other than my own.  I want to share.  I don't think, like the author of the article, that this is a necessarily bad thing.  If folks don't want what I share than that's fine.  The nature of any writing and publishing has in it a great deal of arrogance.  This format is no different than any other, but for a lack of editors.  If only "experts" in their field were allowed to write, no one would ever rise to those ranks.  

All art has arrogance attached to it, a drive which says I want to contribute to this world by doing something new.  Even if it is good, too often it may get lost in the shuffle, but that doesn't mean art is not worth pursuing.  

There is also much the case for me that I don't want to just be a private writer.  I want to be public, and improve my public writing, which is different than private writing.  Painters need not sell their work, but they do because they want to share it.  Not all do, thank goodness, but thank goodness that many do wish to be both private in their pursuits and public in their offerings.  

The honest part for me is that really I have a hard time writing just for its own sake.  I want to share and hear a response, just as I want to respond to those who share with me.  Maybe this is a residue from too much higher education, I don't know.  

What I do know is that I wish everyone could share their thoughts.  I'd like to know what people are thinking and what they find interesting.  It is also true that too many people feel constrained by arrogant judgments.  It is the case that a good portion of society has no ability to judge, but only feels capable of accepting what others say is worth accepting.  

Something Sarah Jessica Parker said a few weeks back echoes this.  She noted that Steve Martin gave her a chance in LA Story, because he was willing to risk that she was beautiful.  Not many people are willing to make that judgment about an unknown, she said.   If people aren't willing to push themselves out into public, there is no chance that the few who are willing to take a risk will find the jewels. 

So all of this for me is, I guess, just a way of expressing myself, feeling like it is more fun to share with others than talk to myself, and is more fun to enjoy the creative possibilities which a website affords.   I have no idea if these words are read or not, but there is an intrigue about the possibility which gives impetus when no other can be found.  Why write this?  Why write at all?  

I don't know why I bothered to care enough to write all this now.  I've had a bad case of writer's block today and just want an avenue to get my fingers moving, I suppose.  Rambling my way through often helps, and even if it doesn't it makes me feel like I gave it the ol' college try.  

12/7/03

I am basically a very shallow person.  If given the chance, I will happily not delve into the deep end of life, and can be contented with simple entertainments.  Some folks are naturally deep, naturally religious, naturally philosophical.  These people are oftentimes often bores, but that's beside the point.  I, however, was thrown into the deep end, and have spent years now flailing about, trying to find my way, becoming ever more adept all the while.  Which is likely a good thing, as my natural shallowness would have never forced me out to where I am pleased to be.  God, there is no doubt, wants me to be more than I want to be.  That's his way, though, so no surprise.  I just have to remind myself of the fact.  The sad thing is that once in the deep end of life, one can't go back to being purely shallow, even though one might try it for a while.  The brain works against a person in these cases, and happily, eagerly, makes for cognitive dissonance at the most inopportune times.  There is a bliss about ignorance, but there's a quality about depth which while not bliss, can be epiphanic.  I live for those times, which pull me through the times in which wrestling with unknowable things becomes too much a burden.   Heaven can be found in those moments, and will be those moments continually.  It's not about harps and clouds, it's about being fully everything we were always meant to be for all time, without our own failings constantly tripping us up.  Choose God, and choose yourself -- that's the basics of the Christian message.  I think I'll stick with it for a while longer yet, just to see what happens mind you.  Wisdom awaits I hear.  Though my own shallowness still wants to keep me away.  Someday, I'll become deep, I think, Someday.  Until then, I must learn to ride the waves, and catch the wind.  

11/6/03

Friendships and relationships are like dams.  One notices and responds more to the leaks than to the parts which are working right.  Without changing anything I said previous, I acknowledge my emphasis on the broken parts, while forgetting to be thankful for the working parts.  Thankfulness... I need to work on that more.   As well as remembering my expectations are not necessarily mirrors of the heart of others.  If people did not 'come through' it does not mean they intended to be hurtful.  While my words may be honest and strong, my heart bears no anger at anyone.  I'm just wrestling through my thoughts as they come.  If I have been disappointed in parts by some, that should not overwhelm those times in which these same people were sources of encouragement and help.  I also acknowledge my own lack in all these things, so believe you me know about the log when I'm mentioned the specks.  If I lash out in frustration, I also hope to lash out in encouragement at times.  Life is about finding the Way, not about attaching blame.  May peace reign in my heart and all around.  May I also become what I wish others to be, and may we all find something more together than what the world presently offers.  

11/5/03

It's an odd thing to realize there are people in one's life who likely would find more satisfaction in one's disaster than in one's salvation.  My home did not burn, against the expectations of most of those I know.  We did not evacuate, against the expectations of most of those I know.  Had my home burned and we barely escape the flames there would be many around us, silently (or not) saying "I told you so" while offering what they could.  It did not burn, and now there is no one around offering any words of thankfulness or celebration.  It is like they are embarrassed because we did not do what they thought was right, and our home was still OK.  I feel now as if I need to explain myself, to offer some words to alleviate the suffering of those who hoped for our disaster - but I realize, if people aren't around to celebrate in our victory, then screw 'em.  I'm not going to made to feel bad our house is fine, and we showed courage in doing what we felt was right.  

I'm not going to feel worse for upsetting people's weekend plans and lose the joy in looking outside and still finding beauty.  Friends, I find, are mostly worthless.  I had no one call and share in my pain during the week, nor a single call recently to celebrate the victory of getting through the week.  If I was a good little boy, and worked a worthless job at the cost of my soul, then I would be surrounded by well wishers.  If I abandoned family to pursue selfish goals, letting those close to me in need engage a crisis on their own, then I would fit in well.  As is, I suffer and rejoice alone.  

I am made to feel awkward because I can't come down the hill this last weekend to fulfill some plans, and made to feel of worth only if I can actually commit.  I feel like because of this disaster I will be abandoned, left to stew in my own foolishness while others find more dependable, sensible people to justify their own mindless, faithless, existence.  I missed a week of plans, and feel like that's it for me.  This may all be wrong, but this is my perception.  

I needed a voice to laugh with, someone to make me laugh, a friend to depend on, a community I know will welcome me back and rejoice in what was a victory.  I have not this -- with some rare exceptions.  I am not the person who should be reaching out now -- I'm the one who faced flame and fire.  If no one is around who understands this, then screw all those who want me to fit into their little picture of an emaciated life, so they feel big in themselves.  The church, I find, is full of small people. I want to know men and women of courage, of faith, of life.  Maybe, this means I have to begin looking elsewhere.  Because, all I have around me is desolation and emptiness -- physically over the ridges, and relationally outside my immediate family.  

No wonder the church is falling apart - words are indeed meaningless, and that is all the good news seems to consist of in many cases.  There are points where it is more, and when it is, wow!  But too rarely, and not for me.  

I apologize if my perceptions are off (but they are my perceptions, which means I'm not the only one involved).  Thanks to my brother for exemplifying community, and thanks to my former roommate who again said just enough and the right words so as to show Christ in him.  Thanks also to my one phone caller last friday - the only call I got.  While I am tempted to say it was just to settle plans for the next day, I will overcome that tendency and say it also was one of friendship.  

10/24/03

A deer in the headlights.

That's what we all are.  Stuck, entranced by that which causes us ultimate harm, or at least lulls us into a dull stupor.  The question is what our own headlights consist of.  This isn't always a sin, though sin is very good at the task.  Often seemingly mundane tasks play this role, keeping us from truly finding the life we were meant to find.  This can be work, making money but losing a part of oneself in the bargain, distracted by the needs of life from ever making a life worth living, which echoes past the reach of our paychecks.  

I have my headlights, those things which distract me or demotivate me or otherwise keep me from that which I know in my heart is what I need to do.  Oddly, even in knowing this, it becomes so much easier to do something else.  One has to run away from the lights, jump out of the way where safety and hope lie.  But, those lights... they are so pretty... 

10/22/03

The breeze gently blew as I swung my arms increasingly adeptly, paddling right, then left, then right, then left.  The kayak swayed in the water as I moved, finding my balance, my arms, shoulders, and chest straining with every pull.  The red sun dropped in the westerly sky, clouds of smoke rose slowly, drifting in front of the evening glare.  As the sun set, the distant mountains and trees were illuminated in the shadows, as was I, crossing the lake, the yellow and red of the kayak shining in the dwindling light of the yellow and red star.  This was my evening and it was good for the soul.

Also, fifteen feet out from the beach I tipped the kayak and dumped myself in the water, having to swim to shore, picking my floating paddle up along the way.  This too is good for the soul.  

10/22/03

The thing about water is you have to keep drinking it or you get dehydrated.

10/21/03

It was my birthday this past weekend.  One of my better birthdays, though I think this had more to do with the quieting of my inner being more than specifics.  But it was pleasant, if simple.  

I was given, among other things, a collection of Thoreau.  Oddly, I have never read much if any of Thoreau.  This is odd because an outsider looking at my life's decisions and motivations would say decisively I had not only read Thoreau, but sought to model my life after his calling.  Instead, my inner yearnings drove me the same direction as Thoreau was driven, and I only discovered his path after mine had begun.  Honestly I appreciate this fact.  One of my problems is I tend to think too much.  I value being able to wander on my own in  a direction without the weight of feeling like I am seeking after someone else's wisdom.  I have comfort knowing it was an internal drive, forcing me to seek after what is my own wisdom God has for me.  Yet, at the same time comforted now by the fact I am not a complete loon, forsaking the ways of the general world in a quest of lonely folly -- as likely many of those who I know may suggest.  

Well, they may in fact be right, but at least I am comforted to know I am not the only one, and have good company in my rejection of the way things 'should be.'  

For me it is like hiking in the forest, amidst the brambles and branches, scratched and tired then emerging upon a small trail which eases the way,  Only after traveling this path, do I find out I've stumbled onto the John Muir trail, which takes me a very long way indeed.  I've stumbled and wrestled almost completely alone - though not totally - and now find myself on a path which is still lonely, but at least blazed.  

I have found this before - in the writings of the church fathers, John Cassian especially - but they touch on different aspects.  Thoreau, and I have yet to read much even still, touches on other aspects, which is both illuminating and disturbing.  Being a prophet sounds cool until you begin to read how prophets tend to end up.  I earnestly wish I could be content working in the 'real' world, making a living, buying a house, finding good schools for the kids.  But the hand on my life leads me differently for now -- and as he has led others before, I can trust the end will turn out okay - though maybe not understandably so for many of those around me.  

No matter, for now I am enjoying finding out how I am not so different than some, and fit into a rare, but vital pattern of being in this world, a pattern not so valued since the beginning of modernity, but a pattern which still may have a voice.  We'll see. If nothing else, I am learning to be true to myself, true to who God intended me to become, and that is a noble path no matter its destination.  

10/21/03

    Sputter.  Vrrroooom.  sputter, sputter.  Gnggngnngngnnngnnngg.  Vrooommmm.  sputter.  sputter.  gngnggngnngnngggnngggnngng. sputter.....  wait, wait, wait.... sputter, vrooommm.  sputter..

The sound of my soul being tuned.  It's being worked on as we speak, so it should be running smoother in no time.  

10/16/03

    I have been known to get into arguments with myself.  Some of these I end up losing.  That's the whole process of ethics and theology for me, settling on a path or decision, then debating through the issues discovering what is the best path or concept, letting the fullness of being become the guide rather than a limited set of principles.  While sometimes my instincts are right on, other times they need adjustment, or realization.  How wise human wisdom seems to herself when defending her own pleasures, as it was said -- this is especially true when one has a degree in theology, knows enough Scripture to be dangerous, and thus can be fairly successful at rationalizing just about anything.  (I especially like my coffee drinking rationalization - Adam, Eve, creation, sin, etc. all come into play for that one).

   What is difficult is to overcome the rationalization, step back a moment and look at oneself as neutrally as possible, seeing if one can possibly see as others see.  We tend to be harsh with others, and forgiving for ourselves.  Few sins disgust us more than others engaging in our own particular choice of sins.  It is so much easier to attack those outside of us, to choose to see other's problems as more severe and the cause of ill.  Yet the one who was without sin seemed to be the least condemning to most people -- except, of course, those who made their opinions the voice of God.   Get the log out before commenting on the specks, and all that.  

    But then we run into the problem of not being engaging enough for other people.  We are not supposed to live lives of isolation, concerned merely for our own souls.  The perfect one did not abandon moral dialogue or self-help suggestions, he couched them in extreme terms, though not unachievable.   So we must both acknowledge the log in our eye, while admitting that in fact those around us have specks as well. The goal is for all of us to see perfectly, without the irritation of whatever size piece of wood happens to be gouging us.  

    What I realize about myself in thinking about my earlier post, is that my expectations of people are not quite right.  I do have friends, people who I can turn to in times of need, folks who hang out for a beer or a good intelligent movie.  I too must participate, without moodiness or the frustrations of my own life being a force field around me.  

    My realization however is again my issue is theological.  I want people to become for me that which I only can find in God.  I'm fully in the void, reaching out beyond mere human existence to that which is grander and fuller.  This requires the step into nothingness, where humans cannot help and God is still yet to be gained.  It is not that he is not there, it is that he is yearning for us to grow past the pettiness of our animal selves, and become again that which he intended humans to be -- his image.  

    But life in the void is confusing, it is frustrating.  One cannot go back, because one cannot forget what lies ahead.  The taste of heaven once given can not be forgotten without a complete loss of soul. The achievement of the other side is, however, a mysterious goal -- one does not know how long it takes to get there, or at least to the next rest stop God generally has placed along the way.

    I want these others to be that which I yearn for, yet they cannot, nor should they.  The church, rightly functioning, is meant to be a help along the way, but even when it is not what is should be, we still must continue onwards to the true goal.

    God has pulled me into the void, and not let me wander too far to the right or left.  How can I expect others to understand when I myself do not, only wrestling with these issues in myself because I have to spend so much time with me.  So, I argue with myself about my expectations of friends and acquaintances, remembering that while even David was in the caves he had followers, yet still was apparently massively distraught in his confusion and loneliness (read the Psalms if you don't get this).  

    God alone is the answer to my soul. I find Him in a complete and fuller way, I find peace.  I do not find him, I never find peace, no matter how many people ever spend time with me.  I've let others affect my soul in the past -- and that is something reserved for God alone.  I bow to none other than he, so must not let the actions of friends or enemies become the arbiter of my being.  Yet in doing this I must remain open and emotionally connected, not cutting myself off by any means.  Only in holiness can I find this balance.  Otherwise life is a continual battering of storm tossed waves.  

10/15/0

    Someone close said they were worried about me.  I don't seem as 'fervent' as I used to.  I'm not sure what to do with this, nor why I am not in fact as 'fervent'.  Is the dryness of the time getting to me? Am I off the right path? Am I suffering still from post-seminary malaise?  Do I need to drink more?  I don't know.  But it's true, I'm not as fervent as I used to be, exhausted from years of striving ending in seeming emptiness.  Investments which don't appear to pay off are not encouraging when they are still being invested in.  

    Something about myself I realize is I tend to be very faithful in major decisions but struggle in minor ones.  A lot of people act godly in the small things, but take little risk in the larger matters of life and being.  I choose God above all, then suffer through my silliness and frustrations in not being consistent in the small daily choices of attitude and faith.  This has to change, I know.

    But, is being less fervent now bad?  I have stepped back from doing, realizing my soul is sick and needs to recover its joy.  I could fight through this but I suspect I would just be covering up by action a core problem which would rear its ugly head later in life.  So I face it down.  Less fervent in outward action, but no less fervent in inner motives or goals.  The veneer of spirituality is being replaced by true spirituality, hopefully.  But to change requires loss.  Maybe my fervency has gotten lost in all that.  I don't know.  

10/14/03

    Recently I made some rather radical decisions in my life.  I decided to step back from the typical world, and try my hand at other tasks; tasks which if they work out would satisfy my soul.  In doing this, though, I think I lost my friendships.  It is not as if many were all that deep or consistent to begin with, but I think by my choosing to do something which they may not agree with or done themselves, I lost any sense of connection with them, which likely makes them more acquaintances than friends.  I sent out a long explanation describing my heart and soul.  I got one response which showed a level of appreciation - and this from a person I don't really know all that well.  Three others mentioned when they ran into me they appreciated getting it, which was nice at least to hear.  Nothing from anyone else.  I sent out my soul, and it was returned to sender.  

    Why do I say this?  Friends react to what we do.  Acquaintances are around if we are around.  Friends disagree, but say so and accept us for who we are.  Acquaintances disagree, and one never hears much from them again.  They drift off to people who are more convenient.  If one gets inconvenient one loses acquaintances, while friends stay in touch wherever or how ever we go.  I've a life of acquaintances - roommates from college, people I knew in Seminary, people I knew from church.  Not many real friends.  Of course the reaction always is -- be a friend yourself.  It's hard, however, to be a friend without that key aspect of presence being available.  

    What is a sign of friendship to me?  Presence.  A willingness to spend time with me, a willingness to simply offer to me their time and space.  Expressions of friendship outside of this are rather shallow  Alas...  presence is hard to find.  

    Not that I am at the same level of sacrifice, but I find comfort in the fact Paul experienced this as well.  At times of great need he writes of those who abandoned him -- they didn't understand what was going on in his heart, and his complications in life were not ones they wished to share.  Only a few stuck by his side, these he treasured.  

   It is the case that God works in ways which are difficult, driving us in certain directions by means of lack and sorrow and pain.  I'm where I am at now because of this sense of lack, so I trust God is working in all and through all.  But, it doesn't exactly fill me with delight when I think of all my acquaintances I left behind down in lowlands.  This occurs to me because Saturday is my birthday.  It's my birthday, and I have no real expectations of any one in responding to it.  That's sad, we should have people in our lives who have some sort of expectation for us, people who can enliven and who can disappoint, people who can let us down because we are usually brought up by what they do.  I will likely see people and hear from them, at least when I have a little celebration later in the month.  My soul is living in isolation, that is a bad way to live.  But, maybe it is driving me deeper into deeper things.  Joseph, David, and all that.  We'll see what happens when I turn thirty.  That's an auspicious year for some.  Twenty nine, however, is lonely.

    May God bring Peace and Fellowship to my life.  That is my prayer.  And don't worry - future thoughts won't be all gloomy and depressing.  It's just this has been on my mind all month, and I feel lost with it all.  

To Die Is Gain

Home  Present Matters     Morning and Evening   The Spiritual Life   Fuller Life

  Gallery     Notes on Dualravens

Patrick Oden,  yeoman raven master