Words, words, words
While waiting for the tea kettle to whistle in preparing a fresh cup of java in my French press, I wandered over to Scot McKnight's blog for some interesting reading. Instead I found myself directed elsewhere. McKnight had written a short post about another post that Brother Maynard had written. As soon as I got to "Subversive Influence" my attention was diverted by a title under "notable posts." (Sometimes I wonder how many breadcrumbs would be needed to find one's way out of the Brothers Grimm forrest that is the World Wide Web.) What had caught my eye was "Starbucks, Snobbery, and Church Vocabulary." I must have had coffee on the mind.
But it was more than that. I have increasingly spent more time thinking about words, how we use them, and ultimately what consequences those choices create. This goes way beyond my sometimes snobbish complaints about the abuse of the English language -- which, in the interest of full-disclosure, I am guilty of committing more than I care to admit. What I am referring to is the conscious and, too often, subconscious use of words in order to manipulate others by instilling fear, guilt, or hatred. It frustrates me to think about the number of people who are continuously beaten down by the poor word-choice of others. Sometimes I feel the phrase "sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me" was first uttered by a bully who never actually had to experience harsh words. But how often have I played the role of the bully? How many times have I used the justification of generalizations in order to assuage the guilt of making an unnecessary comment about another person? After all, I am sure that within my generalization I am simply citing some expert who can back up their generalizations with that ever-powerful phrase: "statistical proof." Sometimes it feels that in this time of unprecedented access to information we'ver never been more ignorant. After all, if we just Google long enough, we are bound to find someone who agrees with our particular point of view, therefore alleviating us of the need to question or alter our beliefs. But what hurts the most is when the words and vocabulary of the Church and its members unneccessarily and inappropriately harm others. I am by no means proselytizing a watered-down Gospel, rather I am suggesting the opposite: a tougher stance on understanding the actual words -- and all the words -- that are found in the Word of God. I firmly believe that if we simply give more thought to the words we use, then we no longer will have to go around "walking on eggshells" for fear of offending someone with what we say.
Wow. I apologize for that rambling rant. I guess it has been building up for quite some time.
24 Hours of Afton
Some guys from work formed a team and are racing in the unique 24 Hours of Afton -- a 24-hour-relay-mountain-bike race on the hills of the Afton Alps Ski Area. They started this evening at 5:00pm and will continue through until 5:00pm tomorrow, racing to see which team -- or individual -- can complete the most laps. Erik Anderson and I headed out there after work to aid them with Erik's incredible cuisine skills and my wonderful moral support. The intense rain we received last night and this morning certainly made for an interesting course, as bikers would return from the first lap with stories of hills that couldn't be biked up, hills that couldn't be biked down, logs that couldn't be jumped, and mud everywhere. But the majority of them crossed the lap line with a smile on their face -- or a look of intense relief that their part was complete for the time being -- as they tagged the next team member to continue the race. The whole thing is more for the fun of it than strict competition and that attitude definitely showed in the politeness and laughter that surrounded the area. When we left this evening, darkness was decending and the headlamps and bike lights were being turned on. It will be interesting to hear the tales that will be told when we return to fix them breakfast in the morning.
Erik is also keeping a blog about the race at his site and he's included some pictures he took.
Aging
Yes, I am fully aware that for a 29-year-old to discuss such a topic is considered by many to be blasphemous, at worst, or annoyingly premature, at best. And yet, with each day it is impossible to ignore the effects of passing time -- many good, some indifferent, others painful. This morning I was reading Nancy's latest entry at Just Thinking about preparing to send their two college-aged sons away for the school year. These are the same sons that I used to take care of during the summer months while I was in highschool and college -- taking them to swimming lessons and the library, playing board games and G.I. Joes. Now the elder is starting his senior year at my alma mater and the younger is beginning his college career out in Boston. Where has the time gone?
Yesterday evening, I played a little ultimate frisbee with some college friends; something we used to do on a weekly basis while at NPU. We were all a step slower than we remember and I had the unique pleasure of experiencing weak joints as my right knee buckled while trying to connect with Peter in the end zone... yes, I tweaked my knee throwing, not while making some spectacular catch. Another reminder that things are not the same as they once were.
While reading through some poetry this weekend, I found myself drawn to a poem by the current US Poet Laureate, Ted Kooser. It captures the essence of time elapsed -- the good, the indifferent, the painful.
Tattoo
What once was meant to be a statement—
a dripping dagger held in the fist
of a shuddering heart—is now just a bruise
on a bony old shoulder, the spot
where vanity once punched him hard
and the ache lingered on. He looks like
someone you had to reckon with,
strong as a stallion, fast and ornery,
but on this chilly morning, as he walks
between the tables at a yard sale
with the sleeves of his tight black T-shirt
rolled up to show us who he was,
he is only another old man, picking up
broken tools and putting them back,
his heart gone soft and blue with stories.from Delights & Shadows, Copper Canyon Press, Port Townsend, WA 2004
New Look
After a few discussions last week with my friend Liz about her desires to start a blog, I was hit with the strong desire to revamp my blog and essentially "begin anew." I am still unsure of the direction I want to take things, but I did know that first I had to get the look and feel of the blog the way I want or, at least, that will give me the time to determine the inner ring's new emphasis.
But that will have to remain for another day as it is already almost tomorrow.