Tag Archives: religion

A Fall From Grace

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A stable upbringing will usually set most of us on a path to becoming someone worthy of self-respect. Through responsible participation in the mechanisms that contribute to a functional society we will find ourselves woven into the social fabric of our communities, thereby garnering the respect of our peers who share our moral values. Our sense of self-worth will grow into the assumption of political power, of being a man among men.

If, though, pride-in-self becomes excessive one may slide with ease into vanity, a character flaw demanding constant reinforcing kudos. As the need for recognition grows obsession develops, becomes dangerous, finally producing a loss of identity, a non-person results, immoral, prone to unjustified retribution against imagined nemeses. An inglorious fall from grace.

The advantages of Remaining Mum

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It occurs to me with increasing frequency, lately, that remaining silent in social situations, exchanges with family members, may be preferable to entering into conversations that may gravitate toward controversy or discussions that may be getting too personal. By remaining mum, I expect I will be able to avoid offering comments that will offend, comments that may dog me, remain a source of discomfort for a long time.

Though one might argue, I suppose, that keeping my thoughts to myself might be considered by those one is hoping not to offend as disguising my true feelings, might suspect my silence masks negative thoughts, which, I guess, may indeed be the case.

Maybe the answer is, in the interests of peaceful co-existence, to always just smile and nod.

Fear of the Unknown

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I’ve been viewing maps recently that were produced during the Middle Ages. It has become clear to me that the early cartographers needed to rely on a certain amount of imagination to create a geographic depiction of the world. The church at the time took pains to build a Biblically favorable geography that had little to do with reality.

I’m wondering how a medieval intellect, a contemplative sort, sitting on the beach looking westward out across the Atlantic Ocean might have imagined what lay beyond. Many sailors of the time feared sailing too far west lest they fall off the edge of the world. Nightmares of an awaiting Hell so nearby must have terrified the medieval mind.

These days the contemplative sort might be looking upwards, outwards, imagining the earth being sucked into a black hole or being overwhelmed by dark matter and being no less terrified than his medieval forbearer. Fear of the unknown is the constant I guess for all of humankind.

Miracles

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I’ve been reading that Christian conviction, the truth of the doctrine, lies in the fore-told Christ and the miracles he performed, miracles being occasions of instantaneous healing or bringing to life the deceased, things that defy nature or rational expectation.

Our apologist warns us, though, that miracles ‘are not of such a nature that it can be said that they are absolutely convincing’, that miraculous events may or may not be miracles. If miracles are the foundation of doctrinal truth that separates Christian belief from heresies it would appear maintaining faith is no simple matter. Finding the truth will require relinquishing self-love and malice of heart.

If religious faith is more than the social support of the congregation it appears maintaining it will require some work.

Saying the Unsayable

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I’ve been reading about Robert Irwin the mid-20th century Abstract Expressionist painter who pushed the boundaries of what a painting could be. After struggling for years to solve the figure/ground problem (the ‘problem’ being how to make a painting of substance that contained no object or background) his concerns turned to the problem of eliminating the restrictions of the format, the limiting edges of the canvas.

Using reflected, carefully placed lighting and a small translucent disc he was able to extend a shadowy image upon the vertical wall surface. Viewers appreciating, I guess, the time and energy spent by an artist of recognized commitment and needing to put language to what they were seeing addressed the ‘beauty’ of this new work much to the consternation of the artist who had no thought whatsoever of aesthetics in what he was producing.

Maybe applying language to visual art should be tempered. Investigations such as Irwin’s should elicit unspoken personal response rather than public comment.

A Trip to the Hospital

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My fishing partner has developed an infection from a mishap that occurred a few days before our trip north. Discomfort has progressed to the point of requiring medical attention. A journey to the nearest hospital in the heart of the First Nation reservation an hour’s drive north is necessary; the facility is seriously understaffed and extremely busy, waiting room overflowing, patient rooms full, gurneys in the hallways.

Hours pass before attention is received, diagnosis critical, IV antibiotic determined necessary. Additional treatments recommended means two additional trips from fish camp to hospital.

The week ends, we proceed south aware how tenuous existence may be on the edge of civilization.

Impending Doom

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I guess this time of year invites morbid thoughts: nature receding into dormancy as it is, temperatures dropping to inhospitable levels. Then there’s the growing disaster of climate change that our politicos seem unwilling or unable to address in any meaningful way, the partisan reality disconnect dividing us into hostile tribes and who can forget the ominous persistence of the dreaded virus.

What I need is a catharsis, a jolt of adrenalin to lift me from this debilitating depression. I was reading that the horror genre is beneficial as a means of escaping the sense of gloom one finds oneself in at times; that horror films can help one find a fresh outlook. Seeing Jason about to slice up an unaware teenager and the like produces an adrenalin rush, so the article suggests, ushering in a revival of energy to go along with a thankfulness one is in one’s living room rather than in a cabin at Camp Crystal Lake.

It makes sense to me; I think I’ll revisit some of the films that have terrified me in the past; maybe start with Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte. Betty Davis’ take on insanity caused me nightmares for quite some time.

Subliminal Truth

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I’ve been reading, lately, about art and meaning, specifically how the intended communication the art maker might initially wish to convey becomes confused and intermingled with personal urges or desires that are then made manifest in the work during the intensive painstaking making process.

An uninhibited free reign provides the art maker’s mind the opportunity to bypass the political correctness of moral restraint untroubled by any sort of critical push-back (well, at least until the work is presented) and if the work is coming from the depths of the maker’s being without ulterior motive the work will be true: not necessarily attractive in an aesthetic sense nor morally uplifting nor of profound meaning; just honest.

Anyway, this got me thinking about my motivations as I proceeded to develop and execute my painting of the Mother Tree. Making the painting turned out to be a fairly involved undertaking in more ways than I usually find myself engaged. So now I’m led to consider that a project I’ve intended to have a lightly humorousness, anthropomorphizing tree forms as I have might in fact suggest a subliminal libidinous undertone that not only have I been preoccupied with female anatomy I present them (the female entities) as subservient

.Well, I must claim innocence. I really was just intending a light-hearted take on the natural process. But, who can say what the unconscious mind holds. I just hope the PC police won’t come down on me too hard.

Self-Awareness

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I’ve been reading an interesting commentary on self-awareness. The suggestion the author makes is that the ‘whys’ of our intuitive actions and reactions are mysteries we rationalize by creating narratives that justify our otherwise unexplainable behaviors.

This, you might guess, has me thinking about my own behaviors, wondering where some of my recent actions and reactions come from, why I’m so inclined, sometimes, to take things personally. It occurs to me after some thought that often my more emotional responses are driven by doubts and uncertainties: being inclined, as I am, to ruminate on multiple points of view.

Did I just justify my emotional responses? Well, it’s all pretty complicated. I guess telling ourselves stories about why we do what we do is a human inevitability. We should hope when emotional build-up makes things intense, we can at least take responsibility rather than seek scapegoats. (The ‘deep state’ is pretty popular these days.)

The Media Eco-System

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I heard the term ‘media eco-system’ used the other day and got to thinking about what that might encompass.

An eco-system as I understand it, consists of a complexity of mutually dependent inter-acting parts that constitute a ‘whole’ and embodies an aspect if not the totality of the realities of the organisms within. The media eco-system provides us captives a diverse selection of socio-cultural perspectives that demand belief, rejection, adherence or refutation of the sensational often incendiary information conveyed, pushing those of us locked into the media world toward extremes of opinion and behaviors not to mention paranoia.

I’ve come to realize the media eco-system is essentially oppositional by design, generating anger that insures the rabid following necessary to the systems’ sustainability. So, I wonder, how do I stay informed about the things that matter these days without getting sucked into the vile vortex.

I guess, to be fair, not all news presentation is sensationalized. I’ll just have to look harder to find a fair and balanced coverage. (Not sure, but I think that might be the slogan of one of the more egregious sources.)