Jim Putnam - Thinking Through My Fingers

Community

Felix Grant has a comment to yesterday's post, inappropriately titled "Tuesday Evening"  in which he asks whether he is missing the target.  To the contrary, he is exactly correct, and I am pleased that he has seen a connection that I did not.

Over years, I have been with several religious traditions and some that aren't based on religion as they meet.  I've attended several Protestant churches, Wiccan, Jewish and non-denominational Ethical Society services, as well as large motivational speaker events.  I've also attended concerts by the Gay and Lesbian Chorale.  For me, there is always an emotional charge, regardless of the venue, but I am always a little outside, looking on.

Years ago, the men's group I was a part of took the Enneagram Test.  I was scored as Type 5, The Observer.  Later versions of the Enneagram have renamed Type 5 The Investigator.  And, in doing the research for these links, I also see it named The Thinker.  Having read them all, I believe any of the descriptions are reasonably accurate for me, and they may all possibly explain why I can be comfortable in many situations in which I do not believe in the precepts of the main group but am comfortable and able to observe and learn.

I want and need to return to discussing belief in God, spirituality, and community, but I've run out of time this evening, so I'll leave it here and return tomorrow.

Tuesday Evening

Somewhere around 2:00 PM I told Marrianna I was coming upstairs to the study to write something.  After several beginnings, this is all that's written so far.  I want to begin a set of thinking about spirituality, religion, belief, and non-belief.

Among the side tracks this afternoon was responding to a comment left to the post "Life Follows the Comics."  Margaret, a friend from way back, left a request and a wonderful compliment.  I have followed up with her and hope that we have begun a series, none of which will make it to the blog.

O wanted to begin this series with a set of opening questions that, I think, set the tone for where I hope to go.  As Felix says, it is interesting that I participate in our church's services despite doubt.  The first question, therefore, should be, How strong is that doubt?  I've been having a serious conversation with myself, and it started something like this.

Questioning self:  Do you believe in God?

Responding Self:  What God are you asking about?

QS:  Oh, for Christ's sake, the God of the Bible, The God of Abraham, of Mohamed, the Prophets, Jesus, The Gospels - that God.

RS:  No.

QS:  Well, what God do you believe in?

And there the conversation ends.  I don't have an answer to that, at least not yet one that I can put into words on a page.  I'm not sure that this question is a good place to begin, but it is the one I've been hung on all day.  But, this blog is titled Thinking Through My Fingers, so maybe I'll be able to find an answer.

QS cheats a little.  When asked what God, he responds with a list of traditions of belief.  I do not believe in a Being that exists throughout the spiritual history of so many people.  I doubt that specific Being exists.  There is not a creative force that set the universe into motion.  There is no Being that demands worship.

I do believe quite strongly that there is a unity of life that unites all persons in a way I can't explain.  I believe there is a connection of people, animals, and earth.  We are all a part of one another in ways that we've either forgotten or have chosen to ignore.

Believing that, it seems to me that there are principles that can help me and others to live in such a way that the unity is recognizable.  There is a purpose of religious traditions that goes beyond worship, and is actually more important than worship.  When persons of like mind gather with the common purpose to better understand how to be connected, no matter how they put it together, there is a greater possibility for each to become a part of the whole.  That, as I see it, is actually the purpose of rituals, music, and tradition.

It is time for me to close for this evening.  There is much remaining to be thought through and attempted to understand.  I think this has progressed further than I had any hope.  There remain questions.  I'm sure you have some.  Please ask them in Comments.  Thanks.

Saturday Afternoon

Throughout as much of my life as I remember, and that sometimes seems an diminishing span, I have tried to stay away from Ought.  You know ought, as in: "You ought to do this".  Or its cousin, Should:  "I should do ...".  I've not been overly successful at avoiding either, but among the pillars of my philosophy is that one's actions are best when they are done because of a genuine desire to do so, with no concern whatsoever for ought or should.

 

It seems to me that merely saying "I ought" implies an underlying desire to do something else entirely.  And when I allow others to control my actions through the strictures of "should" I am not being completely honest with myself or those around me.  I cannot equivocally say that my desire to not be restrained by ought or should has been successful, but I've attempted to recognize when I am under their control.

 

A fully involved, fulfilled life, it seems to me, is likely one in which the person acts from a deep desire, pressing toward a goal that may never be reached, but pressing nevertheless.  And I believe that every person should have the opportunity to live that way.  But what does that actually mean?  Is every person ever free to reach for the goals of his heart, or is that for a minority who have the intellect, time, and resources to do so?  Examining these, and questions that follow them, raise ideas, prejudices, and fears that need to be examined.

 

My life stage has provided me the opportunity to do so much more.  Not everything by any means, and mostly because the means aren't there.  Essentially, in terms of mental activity and time to do it all, I have reached a point in life where ought and should aren't necessary.  I can reach for the dreams as never before.  And I haven't taken advantage.  I've seldom reached.

 

Too often I have not done something I want for reasons that, when examined, aren't more than excuses, laziness, or maybe fear of what I would find.  I was recently reminded of one such goal.  Felix, in a comment to a recent blog post said:  "Your reactions to the service and congregation are illuminating, and add to the interest I already feel in your "participation despite doubt".  I've wanted to examine my religious doubts and somewhat incongruent enjoyment of participating in religious services despite doubt, but have just not done it.

 

I intend to step into that pool of wonder, full of questions, doubts, and personal fears, to dive deep, and to write about what I find.  I hope it will come somewhat regularly over the next days or, more probably, weeks.  There is a lot going on around our home, so I make no firm commitment to write every day.  Regularly will have to do.

 

Life follows the Comics

Or perhaps the other way around. 

This morning Marrianna had an appointment to have her hair done, so I took the opportunity to spend some time in used bookstores and quilting fabric stores during that time.  I found an excellent book and bought it that reminded me of how life is so often reflected in the comic strips.  This is this morning's Blondie comic strip.

 

Blondie

By Dean Young


© 2009 Blondie Partnership. This feature is presented with the permission of King Features Syndicate, Inc. and is furnished solely for personal, non-commercial use. Redistribution in whole or part prohibited.

The book I bought was a cookbook:  "Country Baking:  Simple Home Baking with Wholesome Grains and the Pick of the Harvest", by Ken Haedrich [1990, Galahad Books, New York].  I've already read portions of it and think I'm going to enjoy trying some of his recipes.

I often pull one of my cookbooks (I have over a hundred) off the shelf and read through parts.  I only actually use about a half dozen of the books for recipes, but enjoy reading most of them.

Later, I went to the fabric store where I ordered some wrist gloves and bought two swatches of fabric.  The wrist gloves are going to be necessary because I've been diagnosed with beginning carpal tunnel of the wrists, and need the gloves to protect my wrists.  The alternative, I suppose, would be to purchase a $5K sewing machine and stop quilting by hand, but that's not going to happen.

The fabric swatches are for a simple baby quilt for my upcoming grandchild.  This quilt will be for daily use.  I'm planning another, maybe two, that will be more of a wall hanging and not likely to be used daily.

So I had a really interesting morning while Marrianna was at the hairdresser.  I hope your mornings were as good.

Bad Writing Examples

I subscribe to a magazine that I really like, though it truly doesn't have much that applies to me.  It's "Poets & Writers Magazine" [New York].  It is a bi-monthly and someone gave me a subscription as a gift almost two years ago.  I've considered that a compliment since I really don't write poetry much, and the blog and email are my only writing efforts.  I have, however, renewed the subscription.

Usually the articles are interesting.  There is a series or interviews with agents and publishers, and that has been interesting.  This month's issue has a special section about "The MFA" with one article rating MFA programs in the US.  None of these are what I want to bitch about in this blog post.  Though, as an aside, I think any rating of academic programs is suspect at its concept.

The article i want to gripe about is "Beyond Intention: Poetry and the Art of Recklessness".  It is written by Dean Young, whose biography says he has written ten books of poetry, one a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize.  He is the William Livingston Chair of Poetry at the University of Texas, Austin.

If the reader wades through the superfluity of words, there is a very good message.  But the effort is hardly worth it.  Here is one sentence as an example.

Literary theory (reader, you can sleep through this part if you want) along with its successes, particularly in refreshing forms of self-awareness has managed - through powerful critique arising from a consideration of writing as a mode of cultural commodification embedded in often patriarchal, late capitalist, racist biases, and/or the very shifty unintelligibility of signs (zzzzz) - to make us see authorial intention as a form of molestation and indoctrination, or to see the author as merely responding to social pressures like a squeezed rubber duck with the poem as its squeak.

At least he warns us that we can sleep though this part.  It's a good sentence, grammatically correct, but excessively long in my opinion.  I began counting words before I completed reading it.  That isn't the only rambling sentence in the article, just the one I decided to quote.  I am afraid that if I were his editor he would be revising large sections.  The essence of the article, as I decipher it, is in a few sentences or phrases that he actually italicizes for us.

More than intending, the poet attends.

But, poetry can't be harmed by people trying to write it!

Our business is blooming!

The highest accomplishment of human consciousness is the imagination, and the highest accomplishments of the imagination are empathy and the ability to love.

What's there to argue with there?  In my opinion, not a thing, especially the last of those.  But when the essence is obscured by such as the above sentence, these kernels are too easily lost.

I have to give credit to the rest of the issue.  It is full of good writing, interesting people, Jonathan Lethen, Audrey Niffenegger, Sherwin Bitsui and Jonathan Karp for instance.  I learned that the MFA program my niece attended is ranked 13th of the top 50.  There is good writing throughout, which, I suppose, is why this particular article grated so deeply into my senses.  It is so far from the norm.

Sunday

Sometimes life and living are more important than recording it in a blog.  That's my only excuse for not posting since Wednesday.

I've had a very interesting, thoughtful day.  It began with attending service at Davie Presbyterian Church in Raleigh.  Davie Presbyterian is a predominantly black Presbyterian congregation in downtown Raleigh.  Our instructor for the class Exploring Race I've been attending for a month was preaching there and invited the class to be there.  I was one of three who did so.

I thoroughly enjoyed the entire service.  I had not heard Rev. Marcia preach before, but wont miss another chance.  Her sermon was forceful, deep, thought provoking, and interesting.  Thanks, Marcia.

 

I was first impressed with the building itself.  It's on the National Historic Register and quite a unique building.  It's arranged for a much less formal service than most sanctuaries.  The congregation is sort of wrapped around the pulpit in a half-circle, making for more direct eye contact with the preacher and the feel of being more connected to each other.  From almost every point you can see the folk in other sections of the sanctuary.  It reminded me my last church, Silver Spring Presbyterian Church in Maryland, a fully round sanctuary with glass walls almost completely around it.

 

The service seemed much closer in form and feel to the Southern Baptist church I was raised in.  That church, however, was completely white.  The music was even familiar from those days.  There was a call, something I had never heard in a Presbyterian church before.  The people were very friendly, inviting, warm, and they too reminded me of the small Baptist Church I was reared in.  I'd bet that if there was a church pot-luck lunch after the service we would have been invited and made comfortable.

 

Maybe it was because of its familiar feeling to the churches I attended as a child, but I was completely comfortable.  I wonder whether that feeling would be there if I was to become a member there and a regular part of the congregation.  And then, as soon as the thought occurs, I think wondering that is not fair to them.

For me, it's interesting that this black Presbyterian congregation reminded me so much of the large white Southern Baptist congregation of my grade-school years.  It had the feel of home.  It isn't that my current church, University Presbyterian in Chapel Hill, isn't home, but that this one was also.  Is it possible to have two homes?

My concepts of God don't accurately fit either church.  It's easier to push that beneath the surface where I am now than if I were to begin attending there.  The feel of this morning's service was closer to the elemental religion of the Southern Baptist than the sophisticated service of a large Presbyterian service.  Both invite participation in their rituals, and it's the rituals I have problems accepting.  It's easier to non-participate in a large congregation and yet maintain the feeling of fellowship I so enjoy.  It's fellowship and a regular invitation to think that I most enjoy about University Presbyterian.  I don't know those would not be present at Davie or a similar congregation, but it doesn't seem as likely.

It was a very interesting morning, and one that will be with me for a long while.

Home

Marrianna and I had a very good weekend.  We arrived home late yesterday afternoon.  After partially unpacking and quickly checking email, I had to rush to go to the last class of the Exploring Race series of classes being held at our church.  I'll have more to say about that later.

Among the less successful events of our weekend was our attempt to visit a very good friends exhibit of 32 of her painting in the Austrian embassy.  Nina was born in Austria, speaks more languages than I can recall, is a very tall, beautiful blond lady, has lived in DC for many years, and has been a friend for decades.  She is a wonderful artist and even better person.  We knew her work was being shown and since we were already in downtown DC, we decided to go by the embassy to see it.

Getting to the embassy was interesting in itself.  It is located on a cul-de-sac in DC.  The other embassies on the cul de sac were the Egyptian, Israeli, and United Arab Emirates.  Every one of those embassies were cordoned off with concrete protective walls.  It was impossible to just drive up to any of their entrances.  On the other hand, the Austrian embassy was completely open to traffic.  We quickly realized the embassy was closed because there were no automobiles parked in front, but we decided to check at the entrance to see if we could get in just to view Nina's art.  We checked at the intercom, but no luck.  But, we had the pleasure of telling Nina that we tried when we met with her at home Monday evening.

I've been thinking about the different entrances more than I had thought I would.  We parked less than 30 yards from the Austrian main entrance and walked right up and talked with a person on intercom.  It would have been nearly impossible to do the same with any of the other embassies.  Plus, not only were each of the blocking walls a different design, they were all just plain ugly, differently ugly, but still very discordant in an area of the city that was otherwise very beautiful.  They couldn't even agree on blocking walls.

It also seemed somehow right that the UAE, Egyptian, and Israeli embassies were all on the same little cul de sac.  How the Austrian embassy got in that same area would be interesting to know.  It's not as if the embassy staffs could, or ever would, just go over to borrow folding chairs or something for an event.  And what happens when more than one embassy holds some sort of event?  It would be a real mess with traffic and parking.  Entire walls would have to be removed.  That's the kind of situation that I suppose develops from the divisiveness of the world today.

Last evening, driving on my way to the class, I had an ocassion to think about how the class has changed my perspective.  It may have been a small incident, but it was something I would not have thought of before the class.

There was a black man in a pick-up truck stopped at a red light with his right turn signal on.  Traffic was light, and he had lots of room to make his right turn, legal after stopping, but he sat there until the light changed.  Then he turned right.  At first, I thought his turn signal was stuck on right and he was waiting to turn left, but when he turned right it struck me that he could possibly just been operating on a different set of rules.  It's possible that he sat there until the light changed from an internal recognition, a history that driving while black requires a different set of rules.  If he just went on and turned he could have been stopped and possibly charged for some infraction, for instance not having stopped at the light before turning.  A black man has to be more aware of obeying every rule to its letter, where a white man could, and likely would, have rolled right through the turn, without the full stop required.

I may be, am probably, reading more into this than necessary.  The point to me is that I thought of the various reasons he may have just sat there until the light changed.  Until this course, I would have almost automatically muttered something about the idiot driver who wouldn't turn right when there was no logical reason not to.  I think that's positive, and it's almost wholly because of the course.

The course perhaps should change its title.  Exploring Race is too narrow because actually the ideas that the course raises apply to anyone who is 'Other'.  It is a good idea to explore how anyone who is different, whether by race, gender, sexual orientation, religious tradition, national origin, or any 'other,' can be operating from a different set of rules.  And where possible, it is important that we all work together to recognize that.  It surely makes living with one another easier and less stressful.

I've been working on this post since early this morning between going downstairs.  It's not 12:30 PM.  We are supposed to be having new counter tops being installed in the kitchen and it has been a series of comedic errors.  First, the sink was the wrong one, but that was solved reasonably easy.  Now, the counter with the stove and cooktop is not level and need to be adjusted.  That requires more consultation.  The sales person and installation manager are on their way from the store to our home as I write.  Maybe they are also working from a different set of rules.  I know that at one point in my life I would already have lost my composure, told them to replace everything in the way it was originally, and get the H out of my house.  Today, I am reasonably cool, but it isn't a good situation when so many people have to make adjustments.  I'll close now and go talk with them.

Long Weekend

Marrianna and I are going out of town for a long weekend.  We don't expect to be home before Tuesday afternoon late.  I'm not carrying the laptop so blog posting will not be likely.  You folk should all enjoy your weekends also.

Monday Afternoon Mumblings

As a result of the course going on at church Exploring Race, an email conversation with several friends, and even two recent blog articles on a completely separate, but to me related, subject, I've been doing a lot of thinking about race and racism recently.  I've written a couple of blog articles about it also (here, and here).  Of all this, I believe the most interesting article I read was a blog on the subject by Felix Grant.

I remember my early encounters with race growing up in Florence, South Carolina.  I remember the complete lack of blacks in the small town we moved to in Ohio when I was eleven because blacks weren't allowed in town overnight.  I also remember race as it affected me when I joined the U.S. Air Force in 1957.  I am reasonably aware that I have changed my attitude and opinions over the years, though I'm sure that there are remnants of prejudice that haven't been cleansed even now.  For instance, I am still surprised to see a mixed race, black and white couple when I encounter them in public.  There must be some racism remaining because I don't have a similar surprise when other couples come into my awareness circle.

I believe that among the biggest obstacles to better race relations is that whites want blacks to become like us.  We have complete assurance that we are the way everyone should be.  Our cultural norms are right for everyone, and we are oblivious to any concept that would change us.

Racism is more than mere cultural differences.  Racism is instituted power.  I have remembered one scene in Jimmy Carter's book "Home Before Dark: Memories of a Rural Boyhood" [2001, Simon & Shuster], and I've pulled the book from our shelves to be sure.  It occurs on pages 229-230, the last pages of Chapter 9, "Learning About Sin".  

...One day about this time,A.D., Edmund, and I approached the gate leading from our barn to the pasture.  To my surprise, they opened it and stepped back to let me go through first.  ...

It was a small act, but a deeply symbolic one.  After that, they often treated me with some deference.  I guess that their parents had done or said something that caused this change in my black friends' attitude.  The constant struggle for leadership among our small group was resolved, but a precious sense of equality had gone out of our personal relationship, and things were never the same between them and me.

...  I guess all of us just assumed that this was one more step toward maturity and that we were settling into our adult roles in an unquestioned segregated society.

Perhaps that's what we all do, settle into our roles in an unquestioned racist society, one in which we expect to exercise the levers of power that are a part of our rights.  As Jimmy Carter didn't question, we do not.  It's part of our role to use power, and we don't even question.  And that is exactly why this course is so necessary.  It is time to ask the questions.

As we have said in the course, there is an oblivious element to racism.  Jimmy Carter didn't realize he was settling into the role until years later when he examined that portion of his life.  Unfortunately, racism doesn't give the luxury of time.  In order for us all to be fully ourselves, we must examine its corrosive element and change the roles.

Once, years ago, I defined sin as not using our own talents, or restraining others from using theirs, to the fullest, not allowing ourselves or them to become all that we can be, individually or collectively.  I don't know how accurate that definition is in terms of religion, but I continue to believe it.  If we are given something and do not use it, or don't allow others to use their gifts, we are affronting God.  I may not understand God, but that I do believe.

I've wandered along too long. 

Interesting (To Me) Photography Article

It is very likely that there are only two readers who would be interested in this article, but I think it is interesting,  The article "Through A Lens Darkly" was printed in our local Chapel Hill newspaper.   I immediately thought of Felix Grant and Julie Heyward of Unreal Nature, both of whom I know are photographers.

I was interested in the article for myself also, even though, while I take photographs, I am not at the quality or depth of either of those folk.  Here's a photographer who, were it not for digital technology, would not be able to see his work.  Being able to project his photos on a large monitor gives him, it seems to me, a flexibility now available with film photography.

He will go home, download the photos onto his monitor, open up the software program Lightroom, and painstakingly zoom into each photo, his nose inches from the screen, until he finds the shot that tells the story he means to tell.

The photos with the article tell the rest of the story.  I especially like the one of his niece.

I was also surprised that there is a website of blind photographers (www.blindphotographers.org).  I suppose this is all another of those "It goes to show you" moments.  Nothing's impossible for those who care enough.  And that's a lesson for all of us, even non-photographers.