As expected, my resolution's first deadline came and went without so
much as a haiku to show for it. Since the second deadline was eclipsed
by the first Husker football game, I now have three posts to write by
Friday. My tardiness has one perk however. Namely, I have an easy choice
for a perfect first topic: Personal Deadlines. Here we go.
I'll
begin exploring the topic of deadlines using a situation I find
congruent
and helpful. Growing up in a Christian home, school, and church, we were
often encouraged to assess our personal habits and choices to test
whether or not we were "living what we believed". It didn't take long
for me to notice the discrepancy, and I became very discouraged with the
observation that I couldn't live up the the standard of religious
living expected by my elders. There were so many ideas for applied
principles that seemed like life-changing formulas for excellence after
an evening in a group of like-minded folks, but far from practical in
the morning or when I was alone.
Then I came across a
different perspective on the matter that seems like a downer at first
glance, but actually gave me a great deal of hope. I believe it was my
dad who first introduced me to the concept and then it was reenforced
through the various christian political functions in which I was
involved. They posited that not only was it acceptable to legislate
morality, it was impossible not to do so. This led to a more personal
application of the postulate whose primary change was semantic, but
revolutionary to me: It's impossible not to live what you believe, because your beliefs necessarily dictate your choices. The
truth was naturally much more demanding than the hypothesis I grew up
with. Now, there's still a bit of the old mentality that remains. It is
possible to know and know about other beliefs that would be more
wholesome and glorifying to God without actually believing them. It is
also possible to use that knowledge to slowly change what you believe.
The fundamental change for me came to a head in the difference between
choices on a whim provoked by people and atmosphere, and those formed by
habits and the product of consistent, deliberate exercise of will
power.
This is where that situation really merges
with the topic of deadlines, and where of course an excuse is required
on my part. Since what one believes steers the choices he makes, the
choice not to make my weekly blogging enough a priority not to forget
it, it belies a baser belief that personal reflection and practice
writing really isn't as important as I "know" in my head that it is.
Personal deadlines, goals, and habits and the active responses that
result ultimately make up one's discipline; discipline to a large extent
defines maturity, and maturity leads to and is a form of excellence.
Does that mean that my lack of response at first necessarily means that
I'm immature? Yes. But my resolve to finish this post and catch up to
the originally scheduled deadline represents growth, which leads me to
the bright side of my above discovery.
Learning about
the nature and definition of "belief" sparked a potent course of
development in my spiritual development above everything else. Operating
simultaneously on this new knowledge and the knowledge that without the
actual, visible work of the gospel I would care nothing for a more
perfect belief system, I began to notice that "living what I believed",
which was called for by the christian culture at large, was primarily a
call to respond to an emotional high. While there is nothing wrong with
responding to one's feelings, or using them to perform otherwise
difficult tasks, that pressure nearly overlooked the power of effecting
an entire lifestyle and worldview that allows me to even sort through
these emotions.
In closing, and in light of the above information, there are three things that have risen above the rest in my life as being beacons of God's work for me:
In ascending order,
3) My home church's devotion to world missions
2) The patience and loyalty of my friends
1) My parents' and their parents' lasting marriages
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
A Quick One
Dear diary,
I'm resolving this semester to write on my blog at least once a week. I might put a minimum word limit just to make sure I don't cheat. The first post is due Friday, August 26th. (The night of Jared and Jenna's rehearsal dinner.)
Boom!
kent
I'm resolving this semester to write on my blog at least once a week. I might put a minimum word limit just to make sure I don't cheat. The first post is due Friday, August 26th. (The night of Jared and Jenna's rehearsal dinner.)
Boom!
kent
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Ein Schritt
I have been thinking a lot lately about graduation. I have made the hard decision to let that be an ends in itself. The tough thing about this is that I don't hold any of its value as intrinsic. There's nothing about the nature of putting in the endless hours of tedium in order for the University to give me a gilt sheet of paper that says I'm a Bachelor of Arts. What does that even mean?
Without going into the ridiculous blind worshiping of college degrees that is clear in our culture, I want to go into my decision-making process. This is more for my benefit than anyone else's, but here is my reason: It's hard.
I had never struggled until school until college, being blessed with a healthy intellect, a knack for befriending teachers and parents who were immeasurably helpful with schoolwork. But in college I encountered a problem I didn't expect would be my downfall. Life unfolded itself before my eyes, and I saw paths besides the ones that funneled through a college degree. Like an electron seeking the path of least resistance, I found that not only were there ways around the load that was school's tepid busywork, but that, in my unambitious 360° view of what I expected from life, it was literally the only one there.
I shirked for a year, took off school wanting to prove that I could make a life without the cushion a Bachelor's Degree offered. But after a while of trying to swim upstream, I realized I was swimming in a lake. I expected the adults in my life, having grown up in a generation that viewed school as a necessity, to capitulate to my second-rate choice with forgiveness in their eyes assuring me that I had had good intentions. This was not at all my experience. They ensured me that they felt the same way, and were proud that I was standing firm in my beliefs. Not a soul uttered a contrary word. So it was that I again found myself on a plane extending in every direction, the only obstacle in view my degree.
I first wandered back to the University literally because it was the only significant direction. I didn't care about grades. I could play intramural soccer and live the life of a student with all the subsidies and none of the ambition. I lived here for another three semesters, trying to find a major that would spark some sort of desire to create, to find a field I could become an expert in and not resent. There were definitely bright spots, but nothing that really took, and I drove myself to the point where I wanted to drop out again in December, never really having hoped to complete school.
Here, I was given a providential shove I didn't want, and certainly didn't deserve: I passed a class I should and thought I would have failed. It was from then to now that I realized that I had missed the purpose of the one blip on my radar. I thought it was insignificant. I grew surer by the semester that the academic accomplishment I would achieve from overcoming it would offer me no lasting satisfaction or skill. Honestly, to this day, I doubt that it will. What came to me since the New Year is that the challenge was far more than scholastic. Since my graduation in 2006, I have heaped all my apathy and disdain upon the education system and its flaws. Now I see that that pile, the only blemish on my otherwise spotless plane of potential, itself is the very challenge that my perfectionism in decision-making can latch onto. This has more benefits than just the personal accomplishment or even the ability to look past frivolity in tasks I will need to do to provide for myself; I now discover its relevance in an array of relationships in which performing annoying tasks show patience and care, and supply its very building blocks. Surmounting my own loathing to do a task I find needless at best, suddenly offers a meaningful destination and a transferable skill.
In actually living this out, I have compiled a semester of classes that will be very trying on me. After this battery, however, I will have a semester of reprieve before I will have the required amount of hours to graduate. To that end I have both a plan and a wish. Now I can begin to climb the berg, made greater for the emotional weight, greater still for the years I built habits upon laziness and whimsy. I plod on knowing that I'm single-handedly responsible for my own annoyance, but believing in the joy I will find on the other side of the mountain.
Without going into the ridiculous blind worshiping of college degrees that is clear in our culture, I want to go into my decision-making process. This is more for my benefit than anyone else's, but here is my reason: It's hard.
I had never struggled until school until college, being blessed with a healthy intellect, a knack for befriending teachers and parents who were immeasurably helpful with schoolwork. But in college I encountered a problem I didn't expect would be my downfall. Life unfolded itself before my eyes, and I saw paths besides the ones that funneled through a college degree. Like an electron seeking the path of least resistance, I found that not only were there ways around the load that was school's tepid busywork, but that, in my unambitious 360° view of what I expected from life, it was literally the only one there.
I shirked for a year, took off school wanting to prove that I could make a life without the cushion a Bachelor's Degree offered. But after a while of trying to swim upstream, I realized I was swimming in a lake. I expected the adults in my life, having grown up in a generation that viewed school as a necessity, to capitulate to my second-rate choice with forgiveness in their eyes assuring me that I had had good intentions. This was not at all my experience. They ensured me that they felt the same way, and were proud that I was standing firm in my beliefs. Not a soul uttered a contrary word. So it was that I again found myself on a plane extending in every direction, the only obstacle in view my degree.
I first wandered back to the University literally because it was the only significant direction. I didn't care about grades. I could play intramural soccer and live the life of a student with all the subsidies and none of the ambition. I lived here for another three semesters, trying to find a major that would spark some sort of desire to create, to find a field I could become an expert in and not resent. There were definitely bright spots, but nothing that really took, and I drove myself to the point where I wanted to drop out again in December, never really having hoped to complete school.
Here, I was given a providential shove I didn't want, and certainly didn't deserve: I passed a class I should and thought I would have failed. It was from then to now that I realized that I had missed the purpose of the one blip on my radar. I thought it was insignificant. I grew surer by the semester that the academic accomplishment I would achieve from overcoming it would offer me no lasting satisfaction or skill. Honestly, to this day, I doubt that it will. What came to me since the New Year is that the challenge was far more than scholastic. Since my graduation in 2006, I have heaped all my apathy and disdain upon the education system and its flaws. Now I see that that pile, the only blemish on my otherwise spotless plane of potential, itself is the very challenge that my perfectionism in decision-making can latch onto. This has more benefits than just the personal accomplishment or even the ability to look past frivolity in tasks I will need to do to provide for myself; I now discover its relevance in an array of relationships in which performing annoying tasks show patience and care, and supply its very building blocks. Surmounting my own loathing to do a task I find needless at best, suddenly offers a meaningful destination and a transferable skill.
In actually living this out, I have compiled a semester of classes that will be very trying on me. After this battery, however, I will have a semester of reprieve before I will have the required amount of hours to graduate. To that end I have both a plan and a wish. Now I can begin to climb the berg, made greater for the emotional weight, greater still for the years I built habits upon laziness and whimsy. I plod on knowing that I'm single-handedly responsible for my own annoyance, but believing in the joy I will find on the other side of the mountain.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Snow is a catalyst
I was inspired by my friend, Lori Taylor, to write a sentiment that I've long felt, but never expressed in writing. I've noticed an astonishingly parallel plot line as I've grown older. It's faint and seldom visible, but follows me diligently, a Gollum with no aim beyond curiosity about how I will react to it. Many large themes in the Venn diagram of my life have begun to appear within that portion of my experience labeled "Snow".
When I was a kid, I needed no excuse (and used every one I could muster) to play in snow. We had some remarkable snowfalls in my youth, and I love making snow caves and forts and men and having snowball fights. The lack of responsibilities made loving snow impossibly easy in those days. As I grew up and began to be exposed to media expressing more adult viewpoints, I began to notice a bitterness among responsible, productive members of society regarding snow. It seemed to be a great standby in conversation that if nothing better came to mind, relaying the degree to which one detests snow would invariably find some inkling of common ground in the relationship. Again, in stark parallel to this idea other things that I took for granted, things I had no reason to question were suddenly called childish. There was erected a great framework of rules, roles and expectations that became the definition of my breeding, success and, to some extent, value to society. And this is not to understate the purpose of this structure; there is certainly great influence and beauty to be shared striving toward a life full of order and discipline. However, as I began to be instructed and participate in the rituals of our culture, I was profoundly blessed by a lesson that seems to elude many people. In the midst of the whirlwind of adolescence and the discovery of my place in the community, one of my teachers gave me a key that I will never forget. He taught us to "take play seriously". It was somewhat of a revelation to my young adult mind that the truss-work of discipline that I had warmed to and finally accepted wasn't the end-all in life. There is another vital part that consists of what looks like selfish indulgence in comparison to the hard work and productivity that are so necessary to provide for one's self. It struck a chord with me only because there was an undeniable longing for the innocent energy that was so commonplace in my youth. This principal taught me that these two desires weren't mutually exclusive, but each was necessary to the other to realize their relative fruition. Snow, like innocence, is a structure in and of itself. It takes regularly setting aside time to practice the transfer from one mindset to another.
To this day I can use snow as a barometer for my attitude toward life. It should set off a red flag for me if the tedium of scooping snow ruins my unadulterated love of the way it completely transforms the world around me. Beyond that snow is the perfect play material, the still, muffled quiet of a recent snow lit by streetlamps never fails to take my breath away.
I'm sure there will be snow in heaven.
When I was a kid, I needed no excuse (and used every one I could muster) to play in snow. We had some remarkable snowfalls in my youth, and I love making snow caves and forts and men and having snowball fights. The lack of responsibilities made loving snow impossibly easy in those days. As I grew up and began to be exposed to media expressing more adult viewpoints, I began to notice a bitterness among responsible, productive members of society regarding snow. It seemed to be a great standby in conversation that if nothing better came to mind, relaying the degree to which one detests snow would invariably find some inkling of common ground in the relationship. Again, in stark parallel to this idea other things that I took for granted, things I had no reason to question were suddenly called childish. There was erected a great framework of rules, roles and expectations that became the definition of my breeding, success and, to some extent, value to society. And this is not to understate the purpose of this structure; there is certainly great influence and beauty to be shared striving toward a life full of order and discipline. However, as I began to be instructed and participate in the rituals of our culture, I was profoundly blessed by a lesson that seems to elude many people. In the midst of the whirlwind of adolescence and the discovery of my place in the community, one of my teachers gave me a key that I will never forget. He taught us to "take play seriously". It was somewhat of a revelation to my young adult mind that the truss-work of discipline that I had warmed to and finally accepted wasn't the end-all in life. There is another vital part that consists of what looks like selfish indulgence in comparison to the hard work and productivity that are so necessary to provide for one's self. It struck a chord with me only because there was an undeniable longing for the innocent energy that was so commonplace in my youth. This principal taught me that these two desires weren't mutually exclusive, but each was necessary to the other to realize their relative fruition. Snow, like innocence, is a structure in and of itself. It takes regularly setting aside time to practice the transfer from one mindset to another.
To this day I can use snow as a barometer for my attitude toward life. It should set off a red flag for me if the tedium of scooping snow ruins my unadulterated love of the way it completely transforms the world around me. Beyond that snow is the perfect play material, the still, muffled quiet of a recent snow lit by streetlamps never fails to take my breath away.
I'm sure there will be snow in heaven.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Existence
I just got this crazy Dyna-Flex thing from my friend. It's a workout tool of sorts. You're supposed to spin it with a string like a gyroscope, and then rotate your wrists to make the inner wheel spin faster and create a greater resistance to your wrist motions. It's kinda counter-intuitive, especially when it moves slowly at the beginning. I had to endure many awkward attempts to get the swing of things, but now I can get it going almost every time.
A couple guys and I were talking about making a trip to South America a while ago. I said to them, "I know a month down the road we're gonna forget all about this, so I'm going, whether you guys come or not." I love inspiring moments like that, but I don't think I can endure another one unfulfilled. (I'm going back to school this semester, and it's not in South America.) I think I'll use this Dyna-Flex as a reminder of what I know I need to do.
The only reason I write this is because I just watched the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." It made me see, if only until I go to bed, an aspect of life I rarely notice. Life takes many feeble attempts to really get tickin'. I feel like every day begins with an initial spin, and as of this moment, I haven't really been able to apply the knowledge I've learned about actually living it. But then I suppose that's been because my attempts have been shamefully few. In the film, Joel (Jim Carrey) meets the love of his life, Clementine (Kate Winslet), but doesn't allow himself to share his emotions. We get glimpses of some traumatic experiences he endured which hint at a trend of let-downs that might explain why he's such an island when it comes to feelings. I empathize with him quite a bit, but seeing the consequences of his emotional forfeit from an outside perspective makes me realize that any greatness or extraordinariness I wish I had in my life takes as payment the pain, shame and awkwardness I fear more strongly than death. I only now realize that I need to stop making oaths to myself in hopes that some extenuating slip of Murphy's Law will send me skyrocketing into my dreams. I'm not the one on whom their fulfillment lies. Only God knows what will truly rectify my dispair and failures to act. I can but rely on His teachings and trust the perverted advise of His depraved followers will somehow be unveiled as the unique antidote for the nitpicky pangs in my soul.
A couple guys and I were talking about making a trip to South America a while ago. I said to them, "I know a month down the road we're gonna forget all about this, so I'm going, whether you guys come or not." I love inspiring moments like that, but I don't think I can endure another one unfulfilled. (I'm going back to school this semester, and it's not in South America.) I think I'll use this Dyna-Flex as a reminder of what I know I need to do.
The only reason I write this is because I just watched the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." It made me see, if only until I go to bed, an aspect of life I rarely notice. Life takes many feeble attempts to really get tickin'. I feel like every day begins with an initial spin, and as of this moment, I haven't really been able to apply the knowledge I've learned about actually living it. But then I suppose that's been because my attempts have been shamefully few. In the film, Joel (Jim Carrey) meets the love of his life, Clementine (Kate Winslet), but doesn't allow himself to share his emotions. We get glimpses of some traumatic experiences he endured which hint at a trend of let-downs that might explain why he's such an island when it comes to feelings. I empathize with him quite a bit, but seeing the consequences of his emotional forfeit from an outside perspective makes me realize that any greatness or extraordinariness I wish I had in my life takes as payment the pain, shame and awkwardness I fear more strongly than death. I only now realize that I need to stop making oaths to myself in hopes that some extenuating slip of Murphy's Law will send me skyrocketing into my dreams. I'm not the one on whom their fulfillment lies. Only God knows what will truly rectify my dispair and failures to act. I can but rely on His teachings and trust the perverted advise of His depraved followers will somehow be unveiled as the unique antidote for the nitpicky pangs in my soul.
Friday, January 23, 2009
"WE BE WEBLOGGING," SAYS WITNESS
I've slacked. Even though Colby's the only other one who's read this blog, I should be more disciplined with my creative writing. I need an outlet. I will make this blog my new year's resolution, so it has relatively little consequence when I either forget or refuse to do it in my normative state of mind. Here are some tools to help me in my weblogging endeavor:
http://www.dictionary.com/
http://www.thesaurus.com/
http://www.freerice.com/
http://www.something.com/
http://dict.leo.org/
http://www.gizmodo.com/
Love,
Kent
http://www.dictionary.com/
http://www.thesaurus.com/
http://www.freerice.com/
http://www.something.com/
http://dict.leo.org/
http://www.gizmodo.com/
Love,
Kent
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