the end . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .LOST SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!

please

only scroll down and read if you either have finished lost in its entirety, or you are never likely to watch a single episode. If you are still working on it, I will not be offended if you do not read this post.


I have warned you. Do not be angry at me for finding out something you wished to find out on the show.



Proceed . . .














































































































































everything that has a beginning has an end . . .


the oracle - from the matrix trilogy

I have recently finished Lost. Also, I have apparently rediscovered my appreciation for grammar. Nice.


I love the final episode. If you're a) a Christian and b) someone who has watched Lost, let me tell you why . . . in fact, even if a) doesn't apply, I'm sure you'll find something worthwhile here . . .


There are two phrases that I am absolutely captivated by . . .

this too shall be made right

and

God was, in Christ, reconciling ALL things to Himself

now


watch Lost, watch the final episode, and I dare you not to see a glimpse of this. Please, my Christian brothers and sisters, I'm not interested in a theological debate of the reality of a limbo state or the apparent universalism of the message. The show was not meant to be a platform for a Christocentric world view . . . but it doesn't mean that someone with one can't see hints of what is to come in it.

I cried watching this - because I miss my Oma, I miss Denise Scharringa, I miss Ernesto, and Mr. Fintelman, and scores of other people I have said final good byes too. But that's the beauty, isn't it?


What if good bye is not the end, but a means to a new beginning?

tension

what good would any story be without tension? who wants to read about a protagonist that triumphed over . . . nothing? I mean, I get the existentialism and absurdity of Waiting for Godot, but please - it's not that entertaining. and it certainly isn't life . . .


sidenote - i'm feeling a little e e cummings - ish today, though I still like capitalized first person pronouns and titles. anyway . . .


here is a little bit of tension in my life - having come through a period of time in which I've gone from looking at myself as something of a failure, something worthless, to seeing that I am a work in progress, to seeing that, well, I'm made in the image of an infinite being and bear that image well, and in my own unique way (as do you, whoever you may be), and after coming through the same period in which I swore I would never even consider dating again (a shortsighted vow, to be sure),

I find that there is this tug at this little heart of mine. there is this tension.

i can continue to explore the depths of this romance i find myself in with the One who alone offers that which I really want by myself, moving in silence like a chess piece, watching as my whole world revolves around the position of my King. I can dance my heart out for this One, and only this One, who doesn't care if I stumble, only that I get back up. I can be safe in this divine harmony, this instant as thought connection, where no explanation is needed by either party for anything, and there is no second guessing motives. I am never not loved, never not respected, never seen as anything other than what I really am . . . never misunderstood. Never unknown.

I am also never snuggled with, never hugged, never embraced by this One - it is tough to do those things when you lack a physical body . . . we will never have sex, which I'm not sure how that would work anyway, and I realize seems borderline blasphemous, but the truth is if you are going to embark on a journey where you choose to embrace this Romance and only this Romance, then a vow of chastity is a must.

I'm not okay with that. that is as delicately as I think I can put it.


and so, the tension - because that aspect, that expression I lack requires that one who will care if I stumble, one who may not always respect me, one who may grow weary of me, second guess and be second guessed by me, one who will misunderstand and be misunderstood by me, be invited into the dance. and this doesn't inspire fear, just caution. see, i want to dance with her.

i'm just not sure who she is. yet.

okay, i'm a little afraid. it is a healthy fear, i hope. no one wants to be hurt, and i for one do not wish to hurt. but it seems like that's par for the course in this dance . . . and again, it's not the pain that I fear, but the response to it.

because this is the kind of dance you want to dance for the rest of your life with her, and you want to know and she wants to know if you're in it for real, or just dancing because you're bored . . .


oh, tension

seasons

"Change can be so constant that you don"t even feel the difference till there is one - it can be so slow that you don't know your life is better or worse until it is, or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant . . . it happened to me."

So I love life as a house. Wonderful movie. Haven't seen it for a while, but whatever - it's still the same movie, right? I like that movies are like that - unchanging . . . you can know them for all that they are; once you know the plot, it doesn't change. I find comfort in this sometimes - one of my favorite things to do when I'm feeling a bit down or whatever is to watch The Office or Lost on DVD. I like it because it is familiar, and if home does not equal a fixed geographical location, or if that location doesn't match the location of your heart (where, apparently, home is), then it's nice to have something that feels like home to you.

Back to LaaH. The quote above is what the father says to his son, and it's one of the most poignant moments in a movie full of them. I think we sometimes view life change as these big moments that are dramatic and full and if there was an orchestra nearby they would be playing a very heart moving piece. You know, like the climax of most movies. I think we yearn for these moments because they are easily discernible, and in the area of life where we are most led astray - romance - we think that love equals something big, that real displays of affection are otherwordly lavish.


Well

because we think this, we have a holiday dedicated to doing just that, where if you bring chocolates and roses and a card, you're a good boyfriend, even if you were a shit for the past 364 days.

because we think this, we have unreal expectations of those we love and hope to be loved by.

and because we think this, we miss a lot of very lovely moments.



Sorry - this was written in October, but I'm publishing it here on November 23rd . . .

blue like jazz

hey

reading blue like jazz currently. love it. i haven't got too far yet, but there is something that has already caught my imagination.

donald miller talks about how jazz doesn't resolve, and so he found it hard to like jazz until he watched someone play the saxophone on the street for 15 minutes without opening his eyes. and then he says that he never really loved god because god doesn't resolve . . . .

there are things in my life that have no resolution, and these things drive me crazy at times. i find it hard to let them be. now, it's not that i find it hard to let everything be, just that there are some things that have no real ending in my life, but they also aren't still ongoing . . . know what i mean? there is no resolution, more of a fading away, gradual and subtle.

it's the messiness of life that really messes us up, eh? if things were more black and white, we'd have a better time understanding our place in the story. we would know when doors are closed, when chapters are finished . . . instead life seems more like the passing of the seasons - things happen around the time they should (unless your in calgary - snow in july? 20 degree weather in january? wtf?), and you don't really know how to tell when spring begins and summer ends, for instance.

hmmmm. maybe that's part of what i's supposed to be learning here. life is more like calgary's weather - no resolution, and though there is an underlying pattern, it's futile to try and decipher it sometimes :)

anyway, the moral of the story is that i'm learning to be okay with a resolutionless existence . . . i'm okay if things kinda hang with no clear end or answer.

all you can't leave behind . . .

This is, perhaps, a depressing thought, but everything in life is going to end, including life itself.

Boo-urns, eh? I mean, who thinks of this on a Saturday morning? To be fair, I thought of this a few weeks ago, and I think it was a Monday - which should explain the depressing quality of the thought.


But


Where others see a morbid, pessimistic outlook on life, I see the freedom to just simply let things BE and not make them define us . . . you see, if I define my life based on something external to me, then the worth of my life depends on that thing. My life only has worth if my _________ is in it. It gets really messy when that thing is a person, because love can FEEL a lot like this, except of course love is never a feeling and always an action, a choice, that happens to usually accompany feelings that we tend to think of as positive. That's a different topic altogether, though.


So, if everything ends, including our lives here on this rock, and I'm willing to treat everything as such WHILE still enjoying it for what it is, I think that I'd be on my way to a pretty healthy approach to life - free from neediness, free to not smother others in an attempt to keep them around (when really, everyone leaves at some point - until we die, which is when we leave others), free to bask in the glory of today, because today is all we have for now.

Fahrenheit 451 . . .

which, as we all know, is the temperature that the books are burned at in the self same novel.

And yes, this is another blog about the (now aborted) idea by one Terry Jones to burn Korans this Saturday.

I'm a Christian. The God that Terry Jones and I worship is probably the same God. If you read the Old Testament, he strikes you as a very intolerant God (of course, intolerance itself isn't bad - I'm not tolerant of rape or murder. See, it's all in the object people, not the act). I purposely say these things because it's so easy to distance ourselves from those who appear crazy. If people want to lump me and Terry together, well, okay then. He can be like the stereotypical crazy uncle or something.

But back to book burning for a second, because that's really what I want to talk about. What is a book? What is literature? It is the communication of ideas from the mind of one person to, potentially, the minds of millions, with the intent of sharing knowledge, perspective, opinion, humour, life . . . it is a big part of what makes us humans. No other creature communicates so prolifically every single day. Now, of course, there are going to be conflicting views - not everyone sees everything the same way, nor should they. That would be boring.

Perhaps a better alternative (though perhaps one he will never take, considering that he wrote a book called Islam is From the Devil) is to allow God (who Terry and I would agree, I hope, is the source of all truth) to show him the truth that permeates not just Islam, but all religions. I know this sounds quite universalist (and to my Christian friends, I assure you, I am nothing of the sort), but I AM a guy who has had his understanding of who God is enhanced by the works of a Muslim poet . . .

whose works I am thankful were never burned.

profound for profundity's sake . . .

. . . which I hope this isn't, and I hope I never have been. I know I kinda go in circles with my thoughts; that is, that I often repeat similar trains of thought at a later date, but I hope that in so doing I don't come across as trying to just "be deep". It's more a process of working things out by getting them out there so others can see what it is and possibly comment on it then an attention grab. I mean, really, who looks for attention through a blog?

Today finds me content enough to enjoy the present but far too restless to stay here. I get these urges to move every so often, to chase some grand dream somewhere, regardless of the destination or the cost, and while it sounds reckless, it is the very recklessness of it all that makes me come alive. Impractical, perhaps, and possibly smacking of a bit of licentiousness ( I can do it no matter what it is provided it gives me that rush of living) . . . except the grand dreams I have involve radical ways to make the world a better place, not cocaine fueled sex binges of orgiastic proportions. For example.

If there are any absurdists out there, I think sometimes I can relate. I would only add the caveat that a search for meaning in life is SEEMINGLY pointless at times, not actually pointless. Deep down, I think it is essentially to the act of living to discover why one exists, and, in finding it, to live it out as dangerously as possible.

I think if they handed out safety gear for life, I wouldn't wear it. You know? Like a bike helmet for biking, a seat belt for driving . . . if there is a safe way to live, I don't want to do it. Reckless.