Hunger, Struggle, and Tribulation

I resist reading popular things. I often feel that such popularity comes far too often at a price… that of a cheap thrill. Written works are perhaps less prone to such than movies, games, and music– or perhaps not. Either way, I must say that reading the Hunger Games trilogy was no cheap thrill. I was first hesitant to read it, but my wife insisted, and I gave it a try (I do attempt to be open-minded, at least some of the time). By perhaps the eighth or ninth chapter, I was struck by the universality of the themes presented by the book, and the clever usage of first-person and present tense to move the story along, and the rough edges that the main character has. I was also intrigued very much by the deliberate choice to portray the violence central to the story, as ugly, terrifying, dehumanizing, pitiful.

Katniss is a real and interesting, strong, female lead character. Her hesitation to trust, and tendency to lash out were not cheap, but serious and real character traits. I don’t think I would like Katniss if I met her. But knowing her whole story makes me willing to forbear judgement. Peeta’s attachment is hard to understand, but believable enough– that’s the way love works, it seems. After reading the first book, I was hesitant to continue.

While I wanted to know the rest of the story, I was weighed down by school and work, and felt that the books deserved more of my attention than I had previously thought to give them. The second book did not disappoint me. And, like the first, it also did not glorify violence, although there was plenty to be had. After watching the movie, it seemed a grand irony that Hollywood and the film industry had preserved this portrayal of violence as ugly. The books become dark with it. And I don’t mean in the mystical, interesting, “I love starless nights” kind of way. I mean the kind of darkness that almost makes you hesitate to continue reading, yet propels you forward, determined to know what good can be gleaned from this mess and destruction. It was satisfying, and yet believably tragic. The destructive nature of all struggles for freedom, and even life itself, is psychologically heavy here, and is powerfully convincing. Of what, I will leave you to find out for yourself. There is beauty and brightness found within the story. And hope. I would not approve of a story without hope.

 

Free at Last

Since early in December, I have been trying to get back into a consistent running schedule. I had been managing about 3.5 miles twice a week. I’ve been running with a friend of mine, who pushes me. We do about a 9-minute pace, and after about 3 miles– I’ve had it. I’ve been frustrated, feeling as if the pain in my shins after running and how quickly I seem to tire each run are obstacles without solutions in sight.

This week, I ran close to 7 miles on Tuesday, and I did nearly 6 on Thursday. My running partner was unavailable, so I took my headphones and my smartphone, plugged myself into some Roger Cicero and Collective Soul, and took off on Tuesday night. After 3.5 miles, I felt really good, so I did 4 more laps thinking I would head home after that. However, I hit 4.5 miles, and decided that I just had to get off of the track. Some punchier and more intense Collective Soul songs came on, and I took off through the neighborhood, running more than 2 miles more, much to my surprise. I finally found a rhythm. I’m a bit slower than I used to be, doing only 6-7 miles in an hour, but that’s okay, because I just doubled my distance capability. (I used to do somewhere between eight and ten 8-minute miles in a go– and I’ll get that back). A few words came to mind to describe how it feels to run like this… “It’s good to be free.”

 

No Depth

The other night, as I finished watching a popular and recent movie that will remain unnamed, I decided that movies today move too fast, and usually have no real development of character. In fact, I find myself wanting to engage in media that will reflect the true nature of introspective change and personal accomplishment. There are some movies that do show a bit of this, but I find that most movies are too short, and/or too focused on action sequences (of the dramatic and subtle sort as often as the flashy, explosion-y sort). The climb, the turn-around, the breakthrough, are all followed (respectively) by a descent, a relapse, or grueling lab work– at least, in the real world. Movies not only skip this, but they fail to even attempt to depict it, or grant their audience a feel for it.

The aforementioned movie showed the main character’s personal struggles, and in a burst of intense creativity and a weekend or so of hard work in his lab, he hammers out a solution to one of his major problems… with that problem’s disappearance, his other problems seem to just drop out of the picture. While I love a feel-good movie, and don’t mind a movie that isn’t entirely serious, I prefer a balance of depth and flash that seems depth-shifted from what seems typical today. On the other hand, when I do find movies that have more depth, they often have an overall message that I can’t support– messages of darkness, hopelessness, and moral relativism.

I find myself more and more disinterested in most television and movies because they don’t offer me much to grip. No real substance– no depth. I find myself sifting media more and more, looking for things with authentic and uplifting voices.

 

Mentors?

Last night I found myself pondering mentors. What is a mentor? Do I have any? Who are my friend’s mentors? Are they people I admire– or is it something else that makes up a mentor? I’ve had difficult teachers that have pushed me to learn difficult things– are they mentors? Or were they, however momentarily? Do my parents have mentors? Are my parents my mentors?

I believe a mentor is someone who may inspire you, someone you may admire, may push you, frustrate and enlighten you. But more than all of that, a mentor is someone to whom you go with questions– be they professional or personal– or both. I’m not sure I have many. I tend to break up my questions and struggles and send those questions to different people.

Professor Blomquist, who I took Early US History from a couple of years ago, has furnished answers to many of my questions about working with leather, as he makes historic saddles. In my electronics projects, I ask my friend Brian questions; he builds custom guitar amplifiers from scratch. With general DIY questions, I often approach my sister’s old boyfriend from high school– he and I talk about everything from bicycles, to Linux, to electroplating.

When seeking religious or spiritual advice, I sometimes ask my local bishop, other times my mother, perhaps more often, I ask the instructors that the Orem Institute of Religion– but the particular instructor I ask seems to depend largely on who isn’t teaching a class at the time– I find consistently that these teachers are far more academically minded (and qualified) than I often expect.

When seeking information about a subject, or authoritative scholarly sources on something brand new to me, I usually approach my Dad, who is a librarian, and has made it his business to know how to find information on anything and everything– and not just any information. He usually knows where the best, most comprehensive, most readable and easy to understand information can be found.

You might say I have many mentors. Who are your mentors? Do you have any?

 

Parenthood

The other day, when visiting our newborn in the hospital, my parents visited. I told them about the some of the things I remember from growing up. I found an interesting pattern, I wonder if it resonates with others. Here I record some of the things I told them then, as well some others.

I talked about some of things that made my dad who he was to me– things that made him quintessentially ‘Dad’. He always had the old-school rolls of Certs in his pocket. I still give him two rolls of Certs, every Father’s day– a tradition I started when I spent Father’s day away from home for the first time, at the age of 19.

He taught me to read. As he did so, he taught me to read ‘Bears in the Night’ backwards, word by word. It was silly, but he was always doing things for us that helped us learn. He read books in the car when we would go on vacation, like a book on tape, but way better.

When my siblings and I would ask him questions, he would often say, “Go look it up, we have a dictionary/encyclopedia/New York Public Library Desk Reference “(we really did, he worked there at one point). Of course, more often than not, we just complained, and wouldn’t actually look it up. I like to think that it taught us to believe that we could figure things out on our own. Sometimes I wonder if he said that because he didn’t know the answer, and if so– how often did he know the answer, and was just trying to get us to figure it out for ourselves?

My Father was always doing genealogy and family history. He started doing family history when he was a teenager, I think. As I got older, he was very often using the computer for family history work. In LDS circles, we call this behavior ‘having been bitten by the Elijah bug’ or ‘having the spirit of Elijah’, because we believe that Elijah (yes, from the Old Testament) held specific authority from God for ordinances and covenants that tie families together across the generations, all the way from Adam to present day.

Dad hated fixing things. He was just not a handy man. We had tools, and he would fix things on the car, or try to repair chairs, drawers, or cabinets, but he didn’t enjoy it. I think that gene skipped him. His father was a do-it-yourselfer, and I seem to have inherited that trait, too, but my Dad wasn’t interested. So many times I can recall him working on the car, in the dark because it had to be after work, and assisting him by holding a flashlight. He would complain about not having the right tools, about tools breaking, and about having to work in the dark, all the while attempting not to swear (usually successfully, but not always).

My memories of my mother are different. My first memory is of being carried by my mother through a parking lot at night, somewhere in Santa Monica, CA. I think she was wearing heels (although probably not really high ones), and she was walking quickly. The jarring sensation bothered me, and I asked why she was running. She told me she wasn’t running, just walking fast.

I remember being 5, I think, and my mother receiving a gift from a friend. It was a plate set, one that we used for many years. I remember seeing the box they were in, and I thought they were black, but when she opened the set, they were a hazy and dark color, a greyish-brownish translucent glass.

I remember coming home one day from school to a surprise gift– for no reason that I can remember, although I suppose it’s possible that my mother remembers. She gave me a Matchbox car track set. It was a little track that you set up and put cars on, sending them across jumps and through loops. I ended up with several of these sets, and I would combine them to make all sorts of fun creations.

I remember a time, again, I think I was five or so, that my mother was visiting the doctor’s office. I think it was a one way street, because as we drove on the right side of the street, she slowed down, and took a hard left, and then a hard right, pulling up right in front of the doctors office against the curb. It seemed to me at the time that we were ‘crossing the street’– but in a car. Now it seems unremarkable, but at the time I thought it was really interesting. When I asked her about it later, she didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.

I remember staying home with Mom all day once, watching I Love Lucy, and feeling terrible– I had the flu. I’m not sure, and she doesn’t remember it. I’ve never had the flu since (not that I can remember), and I still remember the cup and straw that I sipped Gatorade or punch out of. It was plastic with a sun printed on the side with a wide flange at the base– probably for children, so it would be harder to knock over. It was a sort of a honey-yellow, a little like the color of Winnie-the-Pooh (my mom adores Winnie-the-Pooh).

The differences here, if you haven’t yet picked up on them, are that my memories of my Father are things that he always did. My memories of my mother are mostly things that are unique. I’m not sure what that says, but I love them both, and I look forward to learning what things make me ‘Dad’ to my children– what will they remember about me. I’m sure I will make mistakes, but I hope that most of what they remember, they recall happily, and with fondness.

 

The Very Fabric of our Lives

There are many kinds of knowledge. Book-learning, skills learned by experience, inspiration, these all are familiar ways of learning and knowing things. While these are all valid, I feel that that there’s an element to learning and knowing that is often ignored.

What we learn, what we expose ourselves to, and what we practice and do, change who we are.

And we can control some of who we are, and who we become, by choosing our experiences. But it’s difficult to know where those experiences will lead us, and what they will make us, because we haven’t been there yet, and haven’t become whatever it might be– yet. Knowing what it’s like to be a college professor is different for someone who has been one than it is for someone who simply imagines what it’s like to be one. Experience is necessary. That’s why actually trying something can be so important for children’s development, right? You wouldn’t just describe a strawberry and then expect a child to know whether or not he or she likes strawberries, you would give them one to eat. When they had tasted it, then you could tell by their smile, or a sour expression on their face (my wife doesn’t like most fruits), whether or not they liked it.

The interesting thing here, is that people are constantly telling us what is good and what is bad– what is desirable, what we’ll like, what we should avoid. More infrequently, they’ll explain why we may or may not enjoy, or otherwise gain from, a particular experience. And there seems to be little in the world in the way of an authoritative plan– something that universally applies to everyone– things that everyone enjoys and are good for everyone. There seem to be a few that quite a few agree on. Romantic companionship of some kind, finding work that you enjoy, and I suppose there are others.

Knowing what you want is very difficult therefore, because there is such little consensus out there. I find that the more I make the kinds of choices my parents made– namely, to serve LDS missions, to go to college, to get married, to remain active in church, to become parents– the more I understand why they’re happy with their choices. I can assume that I understand why they made those choices– these choices were emulated by their parents and role-models. I realize more and more, why it is so hard for people who make lifestyle choices that don’t connect them with others in a meaningful and familial way to have any lasting happiness.

We are social creatures at our core, and if your philosophy of life doesn’t help you connect with others, you’re not likely to stay happy. This is why the Gospel is so important to me. Through careful thought, consistent application, and deep emotional experiences, it has become a continually more useful and connective force between me and my loved ones. Sometimes this provides a challenge when trying to connect to someone whose world view and who– in their very being, has a hard time understanding where I’m coming from. But I have experienced times in my life that have been confusing– less directed. These times I hope give me insight into where others are coming from.

 

Three books I would recommend over all others

One – The Book of Mormon

For those within my family circle this sort of goes without saying. But perhaps, for clarity’s sake, and simply for the sake of articulation (rather than silence and/or assumptions), I’ll explain a little anyway.

Joseph Smith, the translator of the Book of Mormon, said regarding the book, “I told the brethren that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion.”  As a Latter-Day Saint, I must say that I feel this is true in many ways. My understanding of who Christ is, who I am, who God the Father is, the Gospel plan, common sins and pitfalls that people fall into– these are all informed by this book. My understanding of the potency of symbols and symbolic language, my voracious capacity for reading, my optimistic outlook on life, my belief in myself to make choices that matter– these too, are created by my reading of this book. I have read it 9 times in 2 decades. I can affirm that the principles taught therein are true.

Two – The Worthing Chronicle (Orson Scott Card)

Orson Scott Card has a talent for short stories. In past years, he also has shown his writing prowess in the form of speculative fiction– the sort of philosophically significant and exploratory kind of Science Fiction that is the heart of the genre. While Ender’s Game and Speaker for the Dead launched his career, and have received awards and provided him opportunities in writing (and money-making) without which he might remain relatively unknown– they are not his best work. I have heard that he himself has said that the Worthing Chronicle was his best work. My father told me that he felt that the Worthing Chronicle was one of the best (if not the absolute best) work Card has written. I must agree. I have read the book three times since I was 16– so about the last 10 years.

The philosophical nature of the book stresses concepts such as justice, mercy, and undeserved but unintentional and uncontrolled harm. Like some other tragic heroes– one of the main characters becomes convinced that pain is valuable– but he also struggles to convince another character that mercy, also, is valuable.

Three – Life Inc.: How the World became a Corporation, and How to Take it Back

Douglass Rushkoff challenges us to examine our fundamental conceptions of both human behavior, political preferences and monetary policy, and how they interact. He eludes any efforts toward putting him into a political box, consistently borrowing from Libertarian, Marxist, and other Communitarian perspectives to construct of view of western history that, as far as I can tell, is entire unprecedented (at least within mainstream thought on economics and politics). Read his book, and think. Think hard and long. I want to use his book as a textbook for a class someday.

And the runners up:

Blink by Malcom Gladwell

A Separate Peace by John Knowles

The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls

 

Context, Symbolism and Paradox

The scriptures do not often give us a complete picture– or not in a straightforward manner, at least. They are more symbolic than explicit and textual context (that sounds funny) is important. In addition to the context of a given passage being important, the entirety of the scriptures, as well as the cultures that produced any individual portion of the scriptures, become important in understanding them on a deeper level.

We can learn about Hebrew and Greek, their writing styles and their rhetoric, but often this depth of study eludes many religious people of any persuasion, let alone the family-centric Mormons, who are often quite busy enough with just holding down the proverbial fort. In addition, even when such study is accomplished, it often leads us to confront certain academic concepts that seem, on the surface at least, to be incompatible with scriptural accounts. Other times it leads us to believe that certain academic fields are simply incompatible with our faith, but that depends on a premise. The premise is that if we can’t explain how the two seemingly contradictory things are true, that we must reject the one and accept the other. I am not sure this is the wisest course of action– although in declaring doctrine, we must of course hold to the truths that we know come from God.

Perhaps an example will help. I had an LDS college professor for my required college Biology class. He studied at BYU, as well as at a university in Mexico, and if recall correctly, at Boise State University. He said to us that in studying Biology in his class, it was necessary to understand one concept, above all else. In his words, which may have been borrowed, “Nothing in Biology makes sense, except in light of Evolution.”

He proceeded to talk about how science is done, and what it is. He said that ‘facts’ are the starting points in science. They are what we begin with. They may seem contradictory, confusing, or elusive, but they are, in essence, recorded observations. From those facts, one then constructs, or adds to, an empirical argument and philosophic construct that enables us to examine how facts are related to each other– we have things like hypotheses, principles, and equations. From these relational measures we construct then Theories. He emphasized that theories, not facts, are the endpoints of science. He then explains that one doesn’t believe a theory, one accepts a theory, based on the evidence, and the principles discovered or proposed, and the relationships observed and understood.

This is quite a contrast to faith-based claims that religious people believe in. Their understanding of their religious claims or principles isn’t generally an empirical construction. For this reason– you can believe the Adam and Eve were the first humans on earth, because it, for most intents and purposes, is a premise, and not some kind of conclusion. So, one can believe in God and the Bible, but accept that Evolution is a scientific principle. This is not to indicate that we know that Evolution is true. As I understand, most of the scientific community would say that we can’t prove that anything is true using science– we can only disprove certain things, and then construct theories that rely upon the remaining set of relationships and ideas.

Even if one doesn’t agree with my construction of the differences between empirical modes of thinking and other, religious ways of organizing thought, I believe that my last point still has merit. And it is that even if you assume that there is a difference in thought that doesn’t force you to accept one over the other in all circumstances. The evidence indicates to me that Evolution works. Some claim then, that this means, because of the common descent principle, that such is in direct conflict with the Adam and Eve story. I say this, “I do not know exactly how God populated the world. I do know that he did populate the world.”

As Neil Gaiman says in American Gods, describing the contradictory things we all seem to believe,

“I can believe things that are true and things that aren’t true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they’re true or not… I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative… I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman’s right to choose, a baby’s right to live, that while all human life is sacred there’s nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system.”

Gaiman seems to aptly describe our capacity for this paradoxical thinking, and while I don’t advocate it in all cases– I think there’s a place for it sometimes.

I, for one, can be comfortable with the paradox, for as long as I must be.

 

My Favorite Fictional Heroes

My first post on this blog was an analysis and a bit of a criticism of mainstream fiction. To show you I have an appreciation for fictional stories and heroes, and in solidarity with my friend Ted’s post on his favorite fictional heroes. In order of increasing admiration (#3 being my absolute favorite), here are my top three.

Number 1 is Superman. His idealism is something I just can’t resist. I think that heroes like Dare-Devil, Batman, and Wolverine have their place with their skepticism, but it just doesn’t appeal to me as much. I hope to never lose my idealism and faith. I hope that doesn’t mean my views become simplistic either. I think Superman is often a great example of responding to complex situations not with stubbornness and resistance, but with ingenuity and innovation.

Number 2 is probably Gerald Tarrant, from C.S. Friedman’s Coldfire Trilogy. Here is a complex character with good intentions and less than pure actions. Some may claim that Tarrant is a villain, but I’ll say that I think they missed a major point near the end of the trilogy. I can’t reveal more– it would be a spoiler– you’ve got to read the books.

Number 3 would have to be Jason Worthing from Orson Scott Card’s The Worthing Chronicle, also published as The Worthing Saga. Jason believes that pain as a fact of life is important. Not only does he argue for the need of pain as a consequence of decisions, but as a general necessity. Really, this character and book have shaped a lot of my philosophical views. I say without hesitation or reservation this book is far and away Orson Scott Card’s greatest work. I loved Speaker for the Dead and Ender’s Game, and I’ve read several dozen of Card’s short stories, but they don’t have as potently the philosophical element that really makes science fiction what it is.

Runner-up list, in no particular order:

Professor Xavier, from X-Men

The Little Prince, from The Little Prince

Shingi Ikari, from Neon Genesis: Evangelion

Sabriel, from Sabriel

Batman (I think of the animated series, but I like most versions of Batman)

 

New Life

My wife is expecting– it’s a boy. We waited quite a while before deciding to have children. I should rephrase that. I suppose we decided we would have children during the engagement/marriage process– we waited a long while to decide that we were ready for it.  We’ve spent plenty of time (she more than I) deciding on names, how many children, and what order we would prefer to have them in. Last year we decided that it was time. We both had acquired reasonably decent jobs, my wife was finishing school soon, and I was about halfway through. We had been living with my parents because we had been in a tough economic spot, but we arranged an apartment closer to the school and moved out in November. This morning, as she came home from a graveyard shift, the baby kicked.

Yesterday I went to lunch with my cousin, Hunter. Growing up, he was like an older brother to me. When he joined the Marines and went to boot camp, I did not expect that things would change so drastically. He came back from boot camp and shortly thereafter entered the Missionary Training Center, for a mission to the Philippines. After 2 years, he came home– he got married, was sent to Iraq, I went on my mission, he moved to Florida, then California. Throughout this time, when he was in town, he was busy, and he had changed, and I felt like he wasn’t the same person anymore. He moved back to Utah in December. We talked about what to expect as I became a father. We talked about my plans for the future, and what he’s doing with his business. Lunch with him yesterday was like getting my older brother back.