I listened to an interview of Stephenie Meyer, who wrote the books in the Twilight Saga. She had a family that she loved. She had only decided to write when she had a dream that intrigued her. This dream inspired her to explore a narrative that became the popular series.

The interviewer asked her if she was worried about so much popularity, she is so high up that the fall will be great. Stephenie Meyer stated that she had such a wonderful life before the fame if it all went away she would be perfectly content.

She seems like a pleasant lady.

Word as Knife

In that clear state of imagination that comes in between sleep and being awake, I thought of the Word of God that is sharper than any sword.

“What is another way to say that”, I thought?

Perhaps it would be sharp enough to separate sub-molecular particles. I saw in my mind large ambiguous particles. These generally round particles were whirling around. “What is fine enough to slip in between these particles, and strong enough to impose upon them to stop their motion?” I thought that it had to be spirit that could maintain such an edge. I saw in my mind this spirit knife pressed against a bar of steel.

For some reason, I imagined the setting to test this knife was much like the steel racks that hold merchandise at a big box retail store, or what one might find at a warehouse. I thought that splitting sub-molecular particles would probably result in a release of energy. This mini-explosion would not be like anything that one might find with atomic energy, because steel is not volatile like plutonium is.

Skiing in Taos

I had a really cool friend. He and I were both telemark skiers, at about the same level. Chad invited me to go skiing in Taos, New Mexico. We had free passes for two days. I agreed to go. We were to sleep in the back of his truck. And we bought food from a supermarket to save expenses.

It was an enjoyable trip. We ate a lot of eggs and yogurt. Chad said that these were a cheap source of protein. It took about 6 hours to drive to Taos. The approach was a unique experience. The desert landscape had not even a trace of snow. For the most part everything was flat. These aren’t very good conditions for a ski trip but the mountains could be seen ahead so I held hope. We drove into town which is at the base of the mountain.

To understand my perspective you must understand my background. The kind of mountains that I am used to are more like what the Alps are like. There is mountain after mountain. One peak or ridge might start on top of another mountain. These mountains, however, seem to me like the ones in the bible. They are surrounded by desert, and just rise out of the plain. When the book of Exodus talks about Moses approaching the mountain it was probably something like what we were doing. Instead of an Israelite camp at the foot of the mountain there was the town of Taos. And instead of the Israelites worshiping a gold calf, there was a assortment of native american, new age, and hippie-style drug worshiping.

I had no clue where the ski resort was because there was still no snow. But we wound our way through the town and up the mountain. The road was laid along zig-zag valleys. It was a bit like entering an enormous fortress, one where you couldn’t just enter through a gate but you had to know the path, often hazardous, that made its way into the center of the fortress. After many hair pin turns and sections with a cliff on one side and a wall on the other, we had found the snow and the resort.

The first night we slept in the resort parking lot. The next morning we awoke, ate our egg and yogurt breakfast and hit the slopes. The resort at Taos was a unique one. It was one of the few resorts that banned snowboarding. This meant that there were plenty of moguls and the fresh snow wouldn’t get plowed off of the slope as quickly. (Snowboarders tend to destroy nicely laid out moguls because it is hard to turn a board on the same patterns as skis. Also many beginning snowboarders tend to slide down the slope on their edge, which is like taking an ice scraper to a frosted window, but on the slope.) The vision that kept snowboarders off of Taos’ slopes also incorporated a respect for the past. This meant that there were old chair lifts sitting right next to the new ones.

Chad and I did our best to find the good runs on unfamiliar slopes. We met a guy who was willing to show us around a bit. He skied alpine skis and could bomb hills at speeds that eluded us. We would meet up with him at the bottom and ride up the lift together. I think that eventually he got tired of waiting for us and just took off. Before that happened we got on the lift with an elderly man. He was a tele-skier like we were, but that was all we had in common. He had a pair of sun glasses on his face as well as a pair of goggles on his forehead. His long mustache and beard had a string of mucus that connected the two with this large protruding nose.

We started up a conversation. The elderly man, I don’t know his name, claimed that he knew Julia Roberts, who lives in Taos. He told us that he had written a song for her that was played on the local radio station. He then sang us the song. It was probably fourteen verses long and had all manner of pun, alliteration, and rhyme. The song was so convincingly sung that I fully believed him, after much skepticism.

Later, I don’t know how it came up but we began talking about smoking pot. The elderly man dominated the conversation. He began with saying that he would not be inclined to share a joint with anyone. He was just getting over the flu that he had gotten twice in a short amount of time. He had only had to go to the clinic twice for many years.

He then began an elaborate metaphor for how smoking a joint is like taking a girl out on a date. “First you bring a picnic. You don’t pull out one apple for her and one for yourself. No. You pull out the apple. Then take out a knife and cut her a slice, then you look deep into her eyes and tell her that you love her. So with the joint, you can’t bring out a joint for your friend and one for you. You have to pass it around. And that is why I don’t want a smoke, because I’m tired of getting the flu.” This is a paraphrase of what he said. He included more vulgarities.

So this odd gentleman decides to ski with us. He was older but not a bad skier. In the end he didn’t want to try to keep up with us any more. And as I said earlier, our guide liked to leave us in the lurch.

We ended a good and interesting day safely and went back to the truck. We chose to sleep in town tonight because it would be a little warmer. We also wanted to have dinner at a mexican place.

Driving through town we weren’t sure of where to stop. I tend to let people do what they want and I go along with it. This time Chad didn’t know what he wanted. So I suggested that we eat at a little place that looked a hole in the wall. We were the only non-hispanic people in the restaurant. To be honest there were only two other people in the place. A short old lady came out to us and took out orders. I had a fry bread chile or something similar. This lady walked to the back, cooked our orders and then brought them out to us. It was extremely delicious. I was very please that we had chosen this spot for dinner.

Later we found an empty parking lot to sleep in. We skied the next day and had a good time. That day a guy that rode the lift with us asked, “Do you guys huff herb?” We said no. And then wondered why he said it that way. We went to a school where pot was common and we had never heard anyone say anything like that before.

We made it home safely and had a good, if odd, trip.

Wet and Cold

Wet and cold are two relative terms. For clouds or cereal wet and cold is expected and normal, but as words describing my emotions it is not so. I love happiness as much as anyone. But I seem to be trapped in a valley with a thick fog moving in.

Wet and cold. Soggy socks after a pleasant romp through the snow are easily dispensed. Following a romp they are an ignored inconvenience. Soggy socks in the middle of an extended journey on foot are more than a burden. They are potentially a trip ending problem.

On my trip I am faced with wet and cold. A rubric cube is dry and click-y. It is a problem. I can’t solve wet and cold either.

I don’t want anyone to be discouraged. The Lord will solve it.

Sleep

I woke up this morning praising the Lord for my sleep. I have a strong cold. Rest is always so desirable, but sometimes so elusive. It is even more desirable when I am sick. One of my reoccurring fears is that I will be in great need of rest and I will be unable to rest. I praise the Lord for real sleep.
I have heard people call death the great sleep. for me to hear this knowing that the Lord is good, is encouraging. It is like death is not to be feared anymore than I fear I good nights sleep.

My baby skin

I begin many sentences with “It is interesting”. So here is another. It is interesting how most of the time it is easy for me to think that in order to experience a great life or life greatly. I must have certain conditions met. I get tricked into thinking that if I’m not healthy, well fed, have a comfortable place to live, and I’m living with purpose, then I won’t experience life as a great thing. But occasionally I understand that this isn’t true. Sometimes when I’m sick or in an undesirable place financially or emotionally I have a break in the clouds. For a time I see life as great, and I praise God. I am full of joy. At these times I have a lense into the idea that my life is not as dependent on my environment and the like as it seems. Maybe the skin on my common experience sloughs off and the fresh sensitive tenderness of my new life is exposed to unending life.

I think that an over emphasis on only physical needs forgets that it is not position that makes life great but it is God in one’s perspective.

Difficult

I was thinking about something that is hard or difficult. For example I was over hearing a professor speak with a student. I didn't hear what was being said. But the professor had a posture of sureness and confidence. I was remembering times when I was being taught. The teacher was encouraging me towards one particular thing. I had the perspective that "this is so hard." It seems that it wasn't nessasarily hard because it was more advanced or more complicated. But it seemed hard because it was far from me. Maybe what is easy to me is very hard to another, because what I find natural is very far from that person.

Re post

This is an old post that I like. I wanted to repost it.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2008

hi

Hi
This is a letter to myself.
Dear Braden-boo
Remember that you are bankrupt. What I mean by that is that all that you have comes from God. So don’t get all weird like you don’t want to fully submit in your heart, to God, thinking that you are going to loose what you have. Look God alone gives contentment, happiness, peace and joy. So if you don’t submit who knows what kind of perversion of God’s gift you’ll create by clinging to what was good, but was good only for a time. Let go, have some faith, go where He takes you, to that amazing place, chill relax, chillax. Free your mind and the rest will follow, be color blind don’t be so shallow, oh wait that’s en vogue.
Bye b

Lament

I have heard that complaining can be distinguished from lamenting by the fact that the lament has an element of hope.

In a book that discussed Christian art, I was reading a critique that many art expressions deemed Christian a lack a realistic, or relevant acknowledgment of sin. I see a version of this critique in popular Christian music. I don’t hear songs that have the kind of lamenting over sin and its footprint that I read in books like Jeremiah for example. I personally don’t have the cultural niche for lamenting. When something awful happens I just want to get over it and feel comfortable again. I feel (whether self-imposed or not) pressure to have a consistent happiness. It might be captured by the expression, “I’m a Christian, I can be broken or anguished. Shouldn’t I have joy knowing that I’m saved?”

I want to say a thought about the pressure to be happy. It seems that I and those around me don’t have a cultural frame work to experience each others trouble. If someone approaches another with a phrase of complete despair, it is awkward and uncomfortable. I, speaking for myself, want to avoid it.

I feel pressure to think that if someone is suffering or lamenting there must be something wrong with that person. When perhaps in reality they are acting very appropriately in their context.

Maybe a place start digging the foundation for a right lament is in art things.

For the entrepreneur

I was thinking about a neat idea for a restaurant. It would be called The Sauce, with the tag line "It is all in the sauce." Each plate would come with five or so sauces and a few things that go well with these sauces. The thing I like about sauces is that a selection of ordinary ingredients can present a unique dining experience with an appropriate sauce. Also sauces can be made to have uncommon flavors.

Oh

I was visiting a church in my wife’s home town. At this church I heard a gentleman speak. He talked about the ancient cultural context of the Samaritans. It was noted that we don’t have the same notion about this people group as the first century readers did. We name things “The Good Samaritan”. That might be for us naming something the good taliban member, the speaker said. That is interesting. He could play an amazing alto saxophone.

Songs

One characteristic that I think should be found in church worship songs is truth recall-ability. What I mean by this is truth in song form can be recalled easily. Worship songs that contain biblical truths, stated clearly can be really encouraging in one’s day to day life. I know someone who told of being in a lightening storm at heigh altitudes. He told of how he recalled a song with the lyrics, “When I can’t see you I know you’re here.” This song bolstered him with belief. I like that.

I enjoyed a church that I attended in NYC. Their music was varied. There were some hip songs and some truth filled songs.