tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89208730676662892902024-02-08T10:18:40.267-08:00camel hair jackets, fresh water and frisbeesZachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-35540644746279270692013-02-11T12:12:00.001-08:002013-02-11T12:12:05.469-08:00<br />
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The other night I was at a party and someone asked me what I did. Instead of mumbling out something about working at a church (like I might usually do), I sort of had a renewed energy. I said something like - "I work at a church because our souls need to be cultivated and inspired to action. We live in a society that emphasizes politics and business and entertainment - mostly to the exclusion of the soul. And why wouldn't we? It doesn't make us any money. It doesn't usually make you famous (and if it did, it would require too much for most of us [think mother teresa]). All the while, the things we say we care about: the forests and the mega-mammals, are dying off as we go about our business of raping the earth and one another. All the while our children are born into toxicity. We desperately need to put emphasis on cultivating the soul. On finding our soulful intuitions and following them and taking action, so that our politics and business and entertainment are seized by the soul and not the other way around, because the other way around brings us selfishness, greed, hubris, mass extinction, exploitation - destruction."</div>
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The person I was talking to, at a big fancy party in an absurdly large and self-exalting house in Boulder, acknowledged that yes, they supposed this was true. I sort of felt like I had just put them on the rack and asked for a confession. I think the beer made it feel better to both of us. </div>
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<b>Because the soul is vital</b> to<br />
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<span style="font-size: 13px;">love others</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span>be kind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> </span>be generous</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>seek the common well being</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">be sacrificial</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span>be wise</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> </span>be a peacemaker</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>live in hope</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;">seek justice</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span>be humble</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> </span>mourn for suffering</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span><span style="font-size: 13px;">see and cultivate the good in others</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>be a force for good</span></div>
Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-91971383789504200412012-05-02T10:21:00.000-07:002012-05-02T10:21:45.953-07:00samaritizing<div>
Driving from Boulder to Estes Park one late night in June with an electrical storm lighting up the sky to the South I encountered a man named Russel Sutherland who said with a wonder in his voice, "So samaritizing still exists." </div>
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I wound through the little town of Lyons and was headed up the hill out of town in a mood to drive slowly, content to listen to paranoid talk radio and watch for animals moving across the road bed, sort of lulled by the warm cab and talk radio. Soon after beginning the ascent I found myself on the bumper of an old truck fitted with a ladder rack and a pile of assorted junk in the bed including a plastic dog kennel and a propane tank wedged against the tail-gate. I noticed that his lights were out and he was rapidly slowing on the incline. </div>
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I rolled down my window and asked if he needed a lift. He pushed his metal cased window down with his right hand with a great flurry and didn't answer my offer but instead verbalized what he thought was going wrong with the truck - this automatic, long-bed, '69 Chevy, with paint decay that revealed weathered layers of paint and primer all the way down to the reddish stained metal. </div>
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</div>Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-43008536974410942412012-05-02T10:17:00.001-07:002012-05-02T10:17:27.581-07:00SentimentEdward Abbey said, "Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul." This quote could lead in a hundred ways, but suffice to say, it opens the door to investigating the deleterious results of sentiment.<br />
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Sentimental objects in our life, fires we huddle around. Objects that give us meaning, and purpose, and identity. All good things at first glance, but at second glance?<br />
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They can become objects of tyranny. Think of the tenured professor. Who does the tenured professor pay sentiment to? Their position and the system that has esteemed them. A school teacher with benefits and job security. The system that you have power within is to be revered. <br />
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Religious are perhaps some of the most sentimental. A minister in a cushy cleric position. Naturally, the minister is sentimental to where their power and well-being derives. Religious adherents are often just as taken in, especially in religious systems that offer absolute truth; salvation through special knowledge and experience; and a dominating sense of <i>exceptionalism</i>. This kind of sentimentality appeals. It is warm and cozy to know that your in-group is exceptional and exceedingly special the world over. It is more than appealing, it is intoxicating.<br />
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Ironic that the great teachers of truth were something less than <i>sentimental </i>preservers of tradition. They are unique not because they started something popular and appealing that would lead to even more versions of sentimentality. They critiqued the revered way, the sentimental way, when it became set in its ways and forgetful of the way of truth. <br />
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A poem by Ryokan as antidote: <i>The thief left it behind/The moon at my window</i>.Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-88736577877884845632011-08-17T09:16:00.000-07:002012-05-02T10:20:24.770-07:00PhD or any endeavor worth its saltI have mused for sometime whether or not I would pursue the highest academic degree, and in so doing make possible my desire to teach in the college classroom, indulge my appetite for philosophy, and be right in the midst of a meaningful life by waking each day to pursue an inspiring, if difficult task. Victor Frankl conjectured that finding meaning in life was the difference between those who survive and those that do not. The context in which he said this was the holocaust. Man's search for meaning is found in meaningful tasks. Short of life and death, meaning is the difference between those that live an inspired life versus a muddling along life. I am reminded of the adage that it is not the destination but the journey that is important. <br />
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Bearing in mind the cost and time of a PhD, I thought it prudent to consult sagely advice before diving headlong into several years of education and costs. And so, I wrote an email to one of my favorite authors: Michael Inchausti, scholar on Thomas Merton, author of several books including, <i>Subversive Orthodoxy</i>, a favorite of mine, and <i>Spitwad Sutras</i>, a book that discusses the sublime vocation of teaching in the classroom. </div>
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I found Inchausti's email on the Cal Poly website. Surprisingly, he responded to my query within a few hours. This is better turnaround then many friends of mine would do. </div>
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His advice: Hesitation to recommend pursuing a PhD to anyone. Reason: university jobs are increasingly scarce and the cost to earn one is high. He followed this grim outlook by imparting the sage advice I was after: if it is choosing you, pursue it. </div>
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<br /></div>Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-61177599033267711802010-03-08T17:18:00.000-08:002010-03-08T17:27:48.535-08:00Glenn Beck and Ignorance<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;">A guy who puts Ben-Gay under his eyes so that he will tear up on air dares to lecture America on what is honest and above board? Please. This infotainment clown is a Mormon and assumes an advisory role for historic followers of Christ? Perfect, and I assume we are waiting to hear from old Glenn about how Joseph Smith was in fact really a sane guy and not a lunatic in his backyard making up fake Egyptian languages? Of course we won't. And why it was ok for Joey Smith to shoot to kill from his prison cell, jailed as a polygamist and general dissenter against American laws? Sorely doubt it. <div>You expect me to believe that Glenn B. is a guy who knows his religious history? He not only criticizes Social Justice but makes it akin to USSR style communism? Does he remember that the USSR was an atheist state? Last I checked Roman Catholicism has made mistakes, but atheism wasn't one of them. Has he read his red-letter Bible? I suppose he has been too busy reading the book of Mormon - at least this would be a plausible excuse for his ignorance. Otherwise, he might want to get his reading comprehension checked. Maybe he can also tell us about how another Joseph, Joseph McCarthy led the Red Scare of the 1950s. A little Fascist movement tucked away in our American history. Maybe he'd like to tell us how that turned out and what became of old crazy Senator Joe McCarthy. <div><div><span id="q_1274091a66fb011d_1" class="h4" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(80, 0, 80); font-size:9px;">- Show quoted text -</span></div></div></div></span>Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-25748092537388167802010-02-18T08:25:00.000-08:002010-02-18T08:44:37.930-08:00Greg MortensonLast week I listened to Greg Mortenson speak at Bend High School along with a thousand or so other people from Bend. Mortenson won me over with his humble countenance. He surprised me with his relationship with the US military and thereby his insight of military realities in the Middle East shared with a crowd largely cool to the military culture. Of course I was impressed with Mortenson's fearless pursuit to bring schools to Afghanistan and Pakistan, a story I am familiar with, having read <i>Three Cups of Tea</i>. Mortenson's emphasis on education as the answer to the Middle East and the world's difficulties raises a question for me: What kind of education? Are we talking about a liberal arts education? A technological education? Education is indeed necessary and no doubt is a noble pursuit - but what kind of education changes people and the world for the better? There have been plenty of educated civilizations and nation-states that have perpetuated grave crimes against humanity. The information and direction of the education matters. Smarter people do not change the world for the better, kind people change the world for the better. Does education make people more kind? Not unless teaching of kindness, modeling of kindness is an inseparable piece of the curriculum and educators.Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-38520205045483505632010-02-16T22:07:00.000-08:002010-02-17T21:15:27.960-08:00Mugwumps and Fork EtiquetteAre table manners by and large a thing of the past in America, even in the most affluent homes? If table manners are indeed going the way of the dinosaur and in a downward spiral like the newspaper, is this a thing to be lamented? I remember some of the practices taught to me in my middle-class upbringing: fork on the left, spoon to the right of the knife. I always imagined the more feminine spoon protecting the knife, as if chess pieces or characters from Lewis Carroll's imagination. I remember that it is important to place the napkin on the lap. That it is polite to wait for the host before eating. Mouths should be closed when chewing. Mouths should be free of food before speaking. I didn't learn the proper use of salad forks until after I worked as a waiter at a restaurant with table cloths. I learned how to place my silverware on the plate to indicate that I was finished after visiting Australia, which is a different way from America. <div>Perhaps in America it was only ever the well educated and comfortably affluent that observed practices such as the proper fork to use and the correct placing of silverware on the plate when finished. Most Americans probably felt fortunate to possess a single silver fork for each person at the table. We chide the stuffy affluent for being snobs for insisting on proper table manners - but then, what do we have as humans if we don't have a proper way to do things? The proper way to do things is something that endears me to Europe. It is what I would appreciate in the tradition laden culture of Japan, or for that matter most anyplace in the world - the art of living is what stands out. The means by which we do things is what life is about. This is the art of life, the highest form of art - living with thoughtfulness and intention. Our table manners says something about our eating habits and our way of being: slow or fast; appreciated and shared or quick and meaningless; prepared and wholesome or hasty and unhealthy. </div><div>A friend of mine had a family that dressed for dinner every evening. Men in ties, cloth napkins and probably candle-light. This might be a tad overkill, but you can be sure of one thing: dinner was an event. Table manners were expected, conversation was too, and shared food together was the crowning moment of a day lived with intention and attention to the means. </div>Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-69397616699058391792010-02-09T19:06:00.000-08:002010-02-09T19:17:23.461-08:00Olympics 2010I have acquaintances in Vancouver who disdain the Olympics for sundry reasons. For one, they perceive themselves in solidarity with the poor and marginalized, and the Olympics does nothing, in fact retards help for the poor. <div><br /></div><div>I understand the point. However, the Olympics are not going away anytime soon, and Vancouver has the Olympics, and despite the poor snow levels and general lousy non-winter conditions, the Olympics will go on. So why not use the event to help the poor and disenfranchised rather than spit insults? </div><div><br /></div><div>I have news for you who spit: those that you help, the marginalized, are human beings just as the Olympians and Olympic Committee are human beings. And guess what? Most of them would quite like the chance to be Olympians, or to be stock-brokers, or whatever else you might imagine and disdain. Just because they are poor and you are their helpers does not make them or you righteous. I do not deny your right and worth to picket and protest. I'm not asking that you capitulate your convictions. I am asking that you recognize Olympians and Olympic Committee members as human beings, and those you help as human beings too. It is too easy to idealize the way of how things ought to be. </div>Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-78021250314238960402010-02-01T21:45:00.000-08:002010-02-06T13:47:54.230-08:00Phide PhobiaSeveral Haitian kids were victims of an attempted 'rescue' mission by a Christian group from Idaho who sought to rescue the children to safety in bordering Dominican Republic. As of yet, no one really knows what the Christian groups intentions were. Time will tell. What we do know is that several <i>voices</i> have howled in protest claiming foul play by the Christians, convinced that they are only out to proselytize or inflict child abuse, or worse. After all, these jaded <i>voices</i> claim, they've seen it <i>too many times before. </i>Please. And I've seen war and destruction too many times before, and good people of all stripes do terrible things, and supposedly bad people do good. <div><br /></div><div>These <i>voices</i> have seen what too many times before? The <i>voices</i> of dissent and phobia act as if the 'religious' are the world's primary source of injury. That we would all be better off as mixtures of existential/nihilist/humanists. What the <i>voices</i> do not care to realize is that we all have a religion. We are all followers of something or someone. We are also all imperfect, slotted somewhere along the index of imperfection. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Agnostic", <i>not knowing</i>, would be, I assume, what most of these <i>voices</i> would readily claim in regards to their metaphysical conviction. They would be wrong. They have quite a strong conviction in their <i>not knowing</i> and so do the chosen leaders of the <i>not knowing</i> group who have their own deep-felt convictions. </div><div><br /></div><div>Being an agnostic, or suspicious, or a humanist, steps you no nearer toward right action than a 'religious person'. Firstly, because we are all finite humans, and second because we are all religious persons - religious about different things. One man is religious about singing his hymns, another man is religious about taking a dip of chew, another man is religious about philandering, another is religious about going deer hunting in the fall. We are all religious, and each of these religions can be abused, and generally speaking each of these religions does not make you more likely to be a child-abductor, or intender of foul play. However, each of our myriad religion and ways of being is bound to rub off on those that we conduct life with. Sometimes this is in a good way and sometimes this is in a bad way, most likely depending on the 'religion' and the person doing the religion. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I concede, a tobacco chewer doesn't typically try to recruit other tobacco chewers, especially not young kids (except for the company that sells the stuff). But then, tobacco is sure to give you gum disease and a life by example is the greatest influencer. By default this tobacco chewer is a passive proselytizer. Shame on him. How dare he proselytize in this country. </div><div><br /></div><div>These Christian Religious may in fact be the active proselytizing kind, and if they are - so what? Isn't it a far cry better for these kids to work through and recover from the Jesus of a religious right group than work through the starving and desperate state of Haiti in rubble? And if the Christian religious aren't <i>good enough</i> to go in and help - are the humanists? If you say yes, why? because they are agenda-less save their good intent and won't infect with their religion? Sure they will, just a religion by another name. </div><div><br /></div><div>I understand the very legitimate need to provide proper documentation when dealing with children or for that matter taking action of any kind, especially within the sovereign boundaries of another country. For starters this is simply respectful consideration, and treating others the way you would wish to be treated, namely, with dignity. If indeed this religious group did not have the proper papers and official blessing by the Haitian government, then they should be both criticized and prosecuted. For, religious organizations have an egregious track record of regularly acting as if they are above the law because they are ipso facto on the ultimate right side of the law. This self-righteous, self-aggrandizing attitude is narrow-minded and irresponsible and should be punished.</div><div><br /></div><div>However, let us not be gobbled up by our cynicism of religion and Christianity in the face of desperate Haiti in a time of dire need. Rather, may we all pour what we can towards Haiti in brotherly and sisterly love, while not acting unilaterally or condemning out of a sense of self-righteousness.</div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-74698953834810014782010-01-10T19:48:00.000-08:002010-02-09T19:02:40.082-08:00Airplanes and row-matesThis Christmas I flew east to Cleveland to spend time with my girlfriend and her family in the quaint Western Reserve village called Gates Mills. My path from Hopkins International to the village took me through little Italy and Mama Santas pizzeria and into the <i>Bird Sanctuary</i> of Gates Mills, the sign with a red cardinal notifies. The street lamps in G.M. are festooned with a red spiral up the pole and greenery on the lights. On Christmas Eve a bonfire burns on the common green next to the Hunt Club. It is a quintessentially genteel American Christmas. I remember it with fondness. <div><br /></div><div>What I do not remember with fondness is the guy who sat next to me on the leg from Denver to Chicago. He came in late, just as the doors to the airplane were being closed. He wore gym clothing, running shoes and a leather jacket. All in new condition. He looked to be in his late thirties, with a good build and a reasonably handsome face. He was from Iowa, somewhere along the Mississippi in a city that I can't recall. I can't recall his name either. Probably repressed as I tried to forget our pathetic interaction. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was reading a book by Krista Tippet called Speaking of Faith (the same name as the radio program she hosts on NPR) when Mr. Iowa arrived at the row indicating that the vacant middle seat was his. </div><div><br /></div><div>"What are you reading." Mr. Iowa said. </div><div>"What am I reading?" I thought, a little dismayed by the interruption. </div><div>"People still ask this inane question?" I thought to myself, along with, "Get your own damn book and you won't care what I'm reading." </div><div>I gave the title and clarified who the author was and that I found her radio program quite interesting as week to week she conducted fantastic interviews with thinkers, scientists, religious types of all kinds, and pretty much any one who had made a mark in consideration of the human endeavor for good. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Iowa either thought I was sympathetic to his religious views, on account that I was reading a book with faith in the title, or he wanted to lecture me and the woman seated next to the window, because he began his wisdom-giving to me in a loud voice. </div><div><br /></div><div>Things were only exacerbated when he asked where I lived and what I did. I always love this question, right along with: what are you reading? What do<i> I </i>do? I wanted to say, "The same things you do. You know, the usual, I eat, sleep, pet my dog, kiss the people I love, read (he could see this one), fly on airplanes (this one too), celebrate Christmas, drive a car." I knew what he meant, what do I <i>do, </i>and I played the game. I told him I was moving to Oregon to be the organizing leader of a new faith movement within the Presbyterian church. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Iowa's lecture to me, guised as a conversation with a co-conspirator, continued. He spoke of the difficulties of being a leader of the faith, the many pitfalls that lay in waiting such as the homosexual agenda, and not reading the Bible as the inerrant and infallible word of God. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Iowa didn't know me any better than the woman who sat next to the window, who I sensed was melting into the wall of the airplane, not wanting any part of our conversation. She might have thought silently to herself: "Oh, yes. The Christians. Once again ripping into the gays and the liberals." </div><div><br /></div><div>Should I have said something? Challenged him? Been provoked? Perhaps, but I was not in the mood and I simply let Mr. Iowa rant. </div><div><br /></div><div>I let Mr. Iowa say his peace and slowly reached for my other book, <i>War and Peace</i>, always a good conversation starter, or in this case decoy for other conversation. </div><div><br /></div><div>Later in the flight I had my headphones on watching <i>Two and a Half Men,</i> starring the always bad-boy Charlie Sheen (recent scuff up in Aspen, CO with his wife). The show was about the womanizing ways of Charlie Sheen's character - big surprise. Mr. Iowa woke up from his nap, put his head phones on and appraised the show in less than two minutes. He pulled his headphones off and stuffed them into the seat pocket and returned to a napping state with an air of disdain (or maybe I imagined so). </div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Iowa's parting words to me were something about my going with courage and valor into the fight - or something like this. What I was happy to do was go away from sitting and speaking with Mr. Iowa and remember how not to presume that others love my opinion and that searing critique of large swaths of people is not genteel nor does it leave anyone with fondness. </div>Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-30248359559785974112009-07-15T15:03:00.000-07:002009-07-15T15:15:12.720-07:00Jesus is not the AnswerWhat's the question?<br />If the question was: What did you have for cereal this morning? "Grapenuts" would perhaps be the answer. Clearly the answer is not Jesus.<br /><br />We have been force-fed an Enlightenment philosophy that purports a rational concrete Answer to <em>everything</em>. Christian religion has run with this post-medieval ideology and created the Christianity you know today - exceedingly right/wrong.<br />The cosmic being of an Answer is not a theoretical bundle tied in a bow, or a name tied in a bow. It is a way.<br />Yes, I believe Christ taught the most compelling lessons of the ineffable - the impossible, if you will. And so if I believe this, I follow those lessons. We need to be disabused of the idea that you and I are the problem, Jesus is the answer and we wait around to one day get 'saved' -- and we do this by professing that we believe Jesus is the answer.<br />No. Salvation is about healing (<em>Salus</em> is Latin for healing, rootword of salvation - too bad we eliminated Latin from H.S. language!) and we need that in this moment. It follows that by walking in the the lessons of Christ and experimenting with the truth of them brings healing and we become actors, doctors in providing healing (salus/salvation) to the world. (Gandhi loved to experiment with the truth - to find out what the truth was!)<br />Christians typically deal in the ironic. Irony (rough translation): two things that don't mix or line up but are somehow bound. There was a man named Gavin who went begging for help so that two young parents and their baby wouldn't get evicted from their apartment in the middle of winter. Only to find out that Gavin, the person asking for help is the Landlord! .....<br />How are Christians ironic? They tend to purport all of this goodnews/lessons of Christ and then ... wage war in Iraq for oil ... or any number of other things you might think of - there is not shortage! The ironic Christian knows the right answer in their theoretical head (or maybe they don't, but they point to Jesus), but when it comes time to live ... not even close. (I include myself in this irony -- but want to be liberated from it, by first recognizing it).Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-82989105198627106412009-06-18T12:59:00.000-07:002009-06-18T14:33:19.252-07:00Glam Glam GlamWe live in a glam world. A glamour driven world. The people we listen to, trust most, believe in, honor, admire, venerate - are people in the public 'glam' eye, glamming it up, and in so doing likely over-feeding their ego like a labrador running the neighborhood on trash day. Justification for the glam-way is that the glammer is about spreading 'good-news'.<br /><br />The glammer has the opportunity to glam through three primary ways: 1. a personality that has been carefully developed and groomed for glam 2. happy accident of being attractive to the public 3. sheer giftedness and genuine insight - giftedness and insight most often stroked and maximized because of the love and allure of glam.<br /><br />Glam dominates our culture. Hollywood is built on glam as is every other industry to some degree. It is what marketing is all about - creating glam. Glam garners attention and notoriety, helps put forth an image or idea and makes money. Given these things, it is not a wonder that seeking and possessing glam is highly desirable.<br /><br />What is troubling is glam-seeking - even inadvertent glam seeking (if this is possible), for those who advocate living a spiritually disciplined life and whose message should be one (I suppose this is dependent on the spiritual tradition) quite contrary to the life-style of glam. Certainly this is so for followers of Christ.<br /><br />There are countless spiritual advisers these days. Many of the best known write a book about their advice and seek to publish it and sell it in as high a volume as possible. This seems reasonable enough if the author believes the message to be valuable. Typically with a book comes touring - strategy in the publishing world to sell more books. Fair enough. Publishers are in the business of selling books.<br /><br />These spiritual advisors, now authors, often become speakers as well, globe-trotting to put out the message that seems so valuable to so many from cities to backwater communities. The author, on whatever level, becomes a celebrity - even if for a niche community and the glam life begins.<br /><br />This glammin' life is dangerous at all times and in all industries - but maybe most acutely so in the realm of 'religion' and the emotional coercion and starry manipulation that can go with it by glam-seekers with a religious message. Not to mention it is contrary to the actual authenticity of what it is to seek a spiritual growth.<br /><br />Who is your favorite religious glammer? Are they coming to a city near you?<br /><br />Post-script: Wendell Berry is a sagely author who has largely, if not completely, averted the glam trap. He seems to know that doing so would compromise and undermine his entire ethic, just as it undermines the ethic of those who purport to provide insight to the teaching and way of Christ. Mr. Berry has routinely turned down countless invitations to speak. He is wise to the fact that extensive travel, carbon credit or no, is not environmentally responsible, a topic he is passionate about. Moreover, he does not seek to become a celebrity for what he writes. Rather, he seems to hope that others will embody and learn the wisdom that he has by practicing themselves, and seeking those with wisdom locally. They are there, just slow down long enough to look and listen.<br /><br />How many 'sages' that you read and look to for wisdom, direction, advice, glam about the globe?Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-56281442146717174522009-02-27T10:59:00.000-08:002009-02-27T11:09:39.530-08:00slumdog millionaireAll of us navigate through life via the experience we have had - there is no other way. Despite our experience, there are things that are hard fact even though we have not met and known it as such. On rare exceptions we get a life-line, a moment of deus ex-machina, a moment of tangible grace.<br />It just so happens that the miraculous run of Jamal was due to the unlikely pairing of his life experience with the questions being asked by Prem, host of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. But it is more than this. When Jamal is asked the cricket question for 10 million rupees, Jamal does not know the answer. But he does know the character of human beings. Especially the character of the Millionaire host Prem, a slumdog made good.<br />Jamal uses his life-line, bettering his chances to 50/50, and in a move of savvy resilience refuses the hand of the slumdog, who with seeming mercy offers the answer B. to Jamal in the bathroom at a station break. Jamal knows that powerful slumdogs tend to eat their own, and to the astonishment of Prem, picks D. In so doing elicits the anger of Prem who accuses Jamal of cheating, but is more so suffering from jealousy of being one-uped. Jamal is taken off the set and tortured by thugs before being released to play. For the nation of India is waiting on their slumdog hero, and will certainly not tolerate the hero gone missing.<br />The 20 million rupee question comes from The Three Musketeers, a chapter in the life of Jamal. <em>Who is the third musketeer?</em> This is an answer Jamal would have known had he not been skipping school as a boy. Jamal's phone-a-friend life-line fails. He knows Porthos and Athos, two of the musketeers, and two of the answers, names that he and his brother Salim gave to themselves as boys. Again it is a 50/50 chance. <br />One evening as little orphan boys, Jamal and Salim shelter in a train car from the driving rain. Jamal spots a forlorn girl and intends to invite her to the box-car at the protest of Salim. Jamal counters that she is their third musketeer as they seek to survive in the squalor of Mumbai's Garib Nagar (poor district).<br />Aramis, the third musketeer, is followed by luck and climbs to power, dependent on gold from wealthhy mistresses to survive. And yet, Aramis holds very firmly to the sacred concept of friendship. Latika is Aramis. Does Jamal know this? Perhaps Jamal knew the story better than we know. Perhaps he knew d'Artagnan was not one of the musketeers and therefore could not be the answer. Perhaps he knew Latika's story was not d'Artagnan's story. Perhaps it was a process of elimination. Perhaps <em>it was written</em>.Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-18862269405701195612008-12-25T09:37:00.000-08:002008-12-25T09:39:07.407-08:00We Tend to Those BetweenMerry Christmas all ...<br /><br />Christmas Poem ‘08<br /><br />The candle-lit services are over, packages have been opened –<br />As is custom on this side of the family<br />Six hours more dawn will appear lighting up the mountain peaks<br />Beaver Mountain (now called by an Anglo name), the highest of them all<br />Will light up first – on clear mornings it looms brilliant pink<br />Before it fades to sustainable hue<br />It is the dark hours of Christmas morning, and I wonder this silent holy eve<br />What went on for one and a half millennia in this Valley<br />Before the name of Christ arrived on the lips of white skinned settlers<br />And crosses were erected<br />On a continent with the oldest living tree named Methuselah<br />A name from the stories of men who kept written records<br />Arapaho named the rocks above that have been re-named<br />Meeker, Longs, Hallet, and Washington<br />As if nothing was before<br />And all that is was ferried across the Atlantic<br />As so many Jews in canoes - as told in the etchings of the golden plates that Joseph Smith read<br />We sing Joy to the World, O’ Little Town of Bethlehem and Hark the Herald Angels<br />And this is good<br />But yet I hear the voice of Black Elk<br />Whose visions matched the Black Robes good-news tale<br />Here amidst the sage and sparkling streams filled with native cutthroat trout<br />Juniper holy as Olive trees, Ponderosa mighty as Lebanon cedars<br />All growing by the rain, twisted by the wind<br />Under the same bright stars, rising-setting sun<br />And cosmic laws that make it all go round<br />Was Christ the Word already here flickering in the sky<br />Winking in the water<br />Alive in the heart of man made alive through the Spirit<br />God alone lights the candles and snuffs them out -<br />At the beginning and the end<br />And we tend to those betweenZachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8920873067666289290.post-63417050959684356452008-12-22T10:34:00.000-08:002008-12-22T10:43:59.688-08:00I wear camel hair jackets with t-shirts, drink out of a sigg bottle when I'm on the go, beleive advocating for fresh water wells in Africa/Latin America/India is good action ... and like to throw frisbee with my friends and dog.Zachary J. Hancockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15301132875492261087noreply@blogger.com0