Metaphysical cameras

Me and the boss are well into our third week of what BL had termed "the goodbye tour". Throughout the past two months I've begun to develop a deeper appreciation for being present in the moment. There have been a lot of experiences that I had put into the box of "last time I'll ever do this". Upon further reflection, though, that phrase ought to be put into the same category as the "this is a once in a lifetime experience" or "I never ..." or "she always..." Realistically speaking these type of phrases are so extreme they end up being insignificant. For example my friend told me of this awesome conference he was going to go to and he described it as a once in a lifetime experience. But every experience is a once in a lifetime experience. There is never a single experience that we have that is exactly replicated. We ourselves are changing so there is never a time when our context is exactly the same; every experience is a once in a lifetime experience. :) I don't think this takes away from significant experiences but those experiences should be significant on their own merit, not significant because of their perceived rarity. As I go through my own list of last "once in a lifetime experiences" I have grown thankful for them. Even simple things like brushing my teeth, holding the hand of my boss, drinking a root beer, all these things, though seemingly ordinary, are extraordinary in their own right because they are what I am doing now. There's no denying that I am going to miss some things, but putting them in the category of "last time ever" makes me hold a little too long to them and creates, for me, a sense of hopelessness. We hang onto the now and the past because we cannot believe a future that is better than it. I look forward to the myriad of new experiences to see, hear, touch, taste, and feel. I look forward to enjoying the now in all it's joy and wonder, not looking behind or hanging on,realizing that the beauty of today's sunset is amazing but if it lasted forever, there'd be no way we'd ever get to tomorrow's sunset. In 2004 I got the opportunity to go to the Great Wall outside of Beijing. We didn't go to the touristy spot but instead went out to Simatai. It was amazing. The wall was more rundown here but it was so much more picturesque. Steps rose steeply against the mountainside with local peasants, their faces framed by years of sun and wind, chasing us to buy their postcards. I had my camera at the time and as I looked out I realized that no picture what would really do the experience justice. So I didn't take a picture. And since then, I've encountered many of those unKodak moments, moments so grand, beauty so overpowering it seemed almost blasphemous to try and capture them. I still love photography. I have a great appreciation for a well-framed shot that captures passion and emotion. But more and more I don't want to be an observer, I want to be a participant. So here's a top 10 list of things I enjoyed about our road trip, things I got to experience. Hopefully, none of these are last experiences. (In no particular order...) 1. Eating at the next to last Cracker Barrell. I think the first time I ate at Cracker Barrell was with Tank and his boss. It was the Lau Boss that first introduced me to the Cracker Barrell. I am in her debt. 2. Listening to all the episodes of This American Life that had been accumulating on our iTunes. Lots of heartbreak, lots of weirdness, and lots of hope. If you don't listen to This American Life, I suggest at least one listen. It's journalism at its finest. 3. Seeing a ton of windmills. 4. Stopping and eating at Murray Family Farms. The fruit was delicious. 5. Seeing Arizona desert. 6. Seeing a ton of stars as we drove through the Mojave desert at night. 7. Seeing the Colorado river. 8. Seeing the huge sky frame the grasslands of west Texas. 9. Trying to stop at Sonic around Happy Hour to get a cherry limeade. 10. I want to say being with the Boss... but that's cheesy. And it should be assumed! So I'll end with going to the beach in Santa Monica.

Showoff

Today the Chinese Consulate called me. In halting, but impeccable English, the service agent asked me to call him back. I call him back and he says 喂 and I say 你好. Bad move. Once he recognizes that I can speak and I can hear, he just goes all out. At first I saw it as an opportunity to practice my Chinese but it turned into something like this (all of this is in Chinese unless otherwise noted):

CC: Blah blah blah blah... ok?

Me: Um... I'm not too clear, what happened?

CC: (in English) You filled out the death certificate instead of the marriage certificate.

Me: Uh... ok... so what do we do?

CC: Blah blah blah blah... ok?

Me: Um... I'm still not clear.

CC: Blah blah blah blah... ok?

Me: Uh... ok.

I'm pretty much an idiot. This was one of my cardinal rules that I broke. The rule is, if someone doesn't know you speak Chinese, don't. It's easier to listen to poor English and speak slowly than it is to force someone else to listen to my poor Chinese and have them speak Chinese slowly. I remember being an Olympic mascot with the Tailess Squirrel Nerd and the guy helping us was obviously from the motherland. TSN starts speaking to him in Mandarin and I immediately thought "Uh oh..." Sigh. So now I don't really know what happened. I'm hoping that he said, "I'll just correct this for you and authenticate this for you." I'm going to have to call on Monday. And only use English. That's what I get for showing off. And the guy probably wasn't even impressed.

Tap Click

Sometimes I drive the Boss crazy. That's ok, though, because sometimes she drives me crazy too. When we were dating, I helped her get her Macbook and was going through the process of setting it up. She made the off-hand comment, "How come I can't just tap and click it?" A wave of fear flooded my body. I hate tapping on the trackpad. Sure, it seems convenient but it gets in the way of doing other things. Like dragging and dropping. I hate it when you're trying to drag and drop something and then all of a sudden the computer decides that you wanted to open the file instead of just dragging it to the trash to delete. Or when you want to just select something but instead you end up dragging it. Sigh. So I helped her set it up, but in the back of my mind I asked myself "Why would anyone want to do this!? It doesn't make sense!"

That is, until, I got this netbook. One observation that I had was that a lot of PC users used tap-click. I think it's because it is enabled by default on most Windows PCs but you have to actively activate it on the Mac. In any case, I got this netbook and, to my horror, I found that I started using tap-click everywhere! What is happening to me!? After I calmed down and discovered a couple things about a Windows PC that made it clearer why people use tap-click.

1. Most PC laptop trackpad buttons are harder push and more cheaply made. My thumb starting hurting a bit after pushing the trackpad button a lot. I found that it was easier just to tap-click than to push that button with my thumb. I also found that the Mac trackpad button was easier to push and had a more solid feel to the button. I hated using the netbook trackpad button.

2. I do less drag and drop on a PC. It don't know if it's because it's not as easy or because there are fewer opportunities to, but I find myself using the keyboard more to access things that I normally would have used the mouse to. So there's less need to try and drag and drop things using the trackpad and, thus, the trackpad becomes the place to tap and click.

Thanks to the netbook, I now understand the Boss much better. I recommend everyone getting one! :)

The Genius Bar

If you have 20 minutes you can watch this inspiring talk from Elizabeth Gilbert.

I saw it off my brother's blog, whom I, incidentally, think is terribly gifted in a gut-wrenching way. Gut-wrenching because I feel those who are in the "creative" arts bear a weight that most typically don't; Gilbert describes it well. If you don't have 20 minutes to watch this (and I know you are either lying or mistaken because you're going to spend 20 minutes after this going to espn, craigslist, and facebook), Gilbert describes how the ancients of the Roman world used to look upon creativity.

Creativity today is seen as a product of the individual. It is a gift that belongs to a single person and when we see it, we applaud it and we quickly bronze the person and put them on a pedestal. In ancient Rome, though, those who were tasked to invent and create did not do so on their own. The common wisdom of that day acknowledged that there was something else at work in the place of the artisan; an artisan had a helper, a spirit which enabled them to do their work. This spirit was known as a genius. So when one's work amazed and delighted, there was an acknowledgement that though the artisan had a part in the creative process, it was also through the channeling of this daemon that contributed to this work. On the other hand, when it totally sucked, well it wasn't all your fault either.

Glibert points out that as we have moved away from this way of thinking. As we have embraced scientific rationalism, we have placed more and more of the burden of genius upon the individual. Today, a person is not seen as having a genius but as being a genius. This is an undeniably painful crown to wear, Gilbert points out, because what happens when your work isn't that awesome anymore? Well, you stop being a genius.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the church lately. Mainly because I have to preach in California when I get back, but my thoughts have been whirling about on why the community of believers is so important. And while I disagree with Gilbert on the source of creative inspiration, I completely agree with her that many of the problems associated with the burden of creativity are sourced in this individualistic approach to it.

At the end of her talk, Gilbert describes the origin of the word "Olé". It was a transliteration that the Moors brought into Spain of the word "allah", a word used to give praise to God for instances when one saw a work so wonderful, so amazing that it was as if God himself had done it. There is a little discomfort with that idea on my part, but it doesn't seem so far-fetched.

The things that we consider amazing, wonderful, inspiring.

Those things which cause us to gasp and exclaim.

Those things are glimpses, shadowy reflections of the divine. And they are a footnote to the creative and beautiful world we live in. A reminder that there is something, no someone, out there whose genius is not ephemeral and fleeting.

We are mistaken about genius. Genius does not occur in a vacuum. We are able to recognize genius because it reflects values that we already have. It is an expression of something we already knew but didn't know how to say. Genius requires a context and that's where this community comes in. The community of believers, in the presence of genius, removes the burden of glory from us and reminds the individual that it comes from God and that whatever feelings of passion and ecstasy are evoked in a particular work, it reminds us that this will pass, but genius will continue to be seen in glimpses and flashes amongst us as a sign that the genius of the divine is eternal. It will continue to be expressed amongst those that are made imago Dei. And when that which we create and do is not considered genius, this same community removes the stain of shame, reminding us to not to look within and but to look without and that which we labored on and for does not find its value intrinsically within itself but instead finds its value in One who himself creates. It is no wonder, then, that offerings made, in the Christian tradition, are embraced and accepted not because the thing given but because of the one giving.