Thailand Three Weeks Later

•February 4, 2010 • 2 Comments

I’m still processing my Thailand trip three weeks after leaving the country.  A part of me has tried to compartmentalized the soul sickness I felt as I watched little boys prostitute themselves in the Chiang Mai gay bars – as if, amidst the whir of American life, I could somehow live, unaffected by what I saw.

Not gonna happen.

The truth is that I’ve seen desperation in the streets before.  I got to know street kids when I went to Africa during the summer of 2007, and their lives – with glue to ease their hunger pains – was devastating to see.  I still remember when we handed out bread to a group of kids in Nakuru, only to watch them tear it and each other apart.  I remember going back to my hotel room that night and bawling at the brutality of it all.

But as soon as I begin to relive Africa, I relive all of the nights I’ve spent in San Francisco, in the Tenderloin.  And I’m reminded that the streets of America, even the streets of my own city, are home to people that are in need.

“Nothing is yet in its true form” (Till We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis)

My hope sits on the fact that this world, with all of its brokenness, is not yet in its true form.  The Kingdom of Heaven came 2000 years ago, but has not yet become fully realized.  But now, a change is starting to come over me.  To not just experience for a short while and forget, but to enter in.  The compartmentalizing thing isn’t working anymore.  These pictures that I’ve seen throughout life are not going away – nor do I want them to.

What does that entering in look like?  I don’t know yet.  I have ideas, but I’ll withhold those until I can sit on them, pray on them, talk them through with Rach and with my friends, and then I’ll have a good picture…

My Good Friend Headed to Haiti

•February 4, 2010 • Leave a Comment

My good friend and former college pastor Rhett Smith is headed to Haiti in a week.  I’ve been really intrigued by his posts as he gets ready to see the devastation first hand, so I thought I’d pass his writings along.  Click here and here to read his thoughts…

“One does not need to be useful as much as to be present. To be present is to listen and to identify with each other as mortal, fragile human beings who need to be heard and sustained by one another, not distracted or entertained” (The Spiritual Legacy of Henri Nouwen, Deirdre LaNoue, pp. 129-130).

“The Most Beautiful and Profound Emotion”

•February 3, 2010 • Leave a Comment

“The most beautiful and profound emotion we can experience is the sensation of the mystical [...] He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is good as dead.”  – Albert Einstein

There’s a lack of awe and wonder that descends on you as you begin to make your way into adulthood.  Things which once were wonderful become mundane, so much so that you inevitably begin to question whether or not it’s even necessary and/or worthwhile to continue doing that which you once did so enthusiastically.  It’s that empty feeling inside, that complete lack of motivation that brings about very few results and loads of questions.  Questions that, for the most part, have no right answers, yet you seek after those answers desperately so as to at least move on to the next stage of awe-inspiring moments (until those lose their excitement as well).  Kind of a “nothing new under the sun” type rabbit trail, I guess.

Yet, here’s one of the most brilliant minds of the western world in a sense challenging the reader to get back in touch with that “most beautiful and profound emotion,” that “sensation of the mystical.”

There’s something almost annoying about reading Einstein’s quote because it pokes and prods at a lot of the ups and downs I’ve had of late, in specifically two situations.  There’s been intense joy and sadness thanks to a two week Thailand trip – where a beautiful community came together to face child prostitution head on.  Then, coming home meant that our family was back to the hospital, where hope and hopelessness walk hand in hand as we fight the emotional and physical battle of my brother-in-law’s cancer.  Bleh.  Not fun.  At all.  There’s a part of my brain that wants to compartmentalize all of the painful stuff and simply move on with life, because, for lack of better terms, that’s what needs to get done.  However, there’s that aching part of me that, if I sit with the mental pictures of little boys selling themselves, or if I sit with cancer and the way that it (or any illness) can ravage a family, I begin to lose the wonder and the awe and I begin to take on the grossness of the pain and brokenness that have infected this world.

So, the “sensation of the mystical” it is.  For me, that’s a relationship with Jesus Christ.  He is my mystical, my beauty and my profound emotion.  I cannot see him, but then again, I’ve committed to hoping in things not seen.  And that’s enough for tonight…

Driscoll’s “Marriage and Men”

•February 3, 2010 • 2 Comments

I was listening to Mark Driscoll’s “Marriage and Men” message again this morning and was challenged in a lot of ways – on how to be a man, how to be a husband, and how to be a God-follower who honors God by the way I love my wife.  And I thought, “How often do guys get challenged in these sorts of ways?”  How often have I heard a point blank message where my manhood is put to the test by words that cut to the core of who I am as a man.

Not very often, for sure.  And do I suffer because of that?  I think we all do…

Driscoll challenges me to do things that resonate with my own ideas about who a man should be.  He also challenges me to look at the Bible as a reference point for the development of  my own manhood.  Good stuff.

That’s all.  Just wanted to pass on a little Mark Driscoll for this Wednesday morning.

Creative Days and Nights

•January 26, 2010 • Leave a Comment

The day has almost come to an end, yet I’m not ready for it to be over.  Today was a creative day, a day for staring down the barrel of the gun that tells you you don’t have anything new to give this world and taking whatever bullets come out – and then moving on and getting your work done.

Stephen Pressfield calls that so-called-gun “resistance.”  He sees it as the great enemy to any creative endeavor, or any creative being, for that matter.  Crazy how, when you force yourself to make a large portion of your day creative, you get hit with a lot of other forces besides the creative force.  Something inside you burns with the need to get out all that you’ve been holding in, yet fear, doubt, rejection and/or failure walk right along side you as your plow down your creative road.

It’s an interesting journey, the creative life.  It’s full of moments of wonder and fulfillment and community and total amazement where I’m left with the best aftertaste any experience can offer.  But right alongside comes the self-hatred, the loneliness, the isolation, the questioning, blah blah blah… all those things that artists struggle with that actually helps produce the art.  Jon Foreman wrote today

I don’t write songs when I’m happy. When I’m content, I take my wife out to dinner, I go surfing. I hang out with my friends and play ridiculous cover tunes when I’m happy. But when I’m depressed, I turn and look for something beyond this life. When I’m lonely and nothing makes sense and the world has lost it’s flavor I search for notes and words that usher in a transcendence that soars high above the tragedy. I look for a song to understand the present tragedy in the context of a hope for a better world. I look for words that remind me of a bigger story, for songs that acknowledge the tragedy and move beyond it. I look to artists who give me windows, words that provide for a new life to be birthed within me.

So midnight has come again, like an old friend with whom it doesn’t take long to reconnect not matter the time between meetings.  And bed calls.  Tomorrow is another day.  Resistance didn’t get me today…

“Settled Happiness and Security”

•January 19, 2010 • 1 Comment

“The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world; but joy, pleasure, and merriment, He has scattered broadcast.  We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy.  It is not hard to see why.  The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends, a bathe or a football match, have no such tendency.  Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasure inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home” (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, 116).

It’s fun to read brilliant thinkers and writers because they can broadside you at the most unexpected moments with amazing observations about life and the way it operates.  C.S. Lewis easily falls into the “brilliant” category, and his amazingness comes out beautifully in this short little paragraph on “settled happiness and security” (116).  The household I grew up in was a secure one – in many senses of the word.  The house I grew up in was emotionally secure as well as monetarily secure.  The upper-middle class neighborhood I grew up in provided physical security.  And all in all, I can say that I enjoyed a large sense of settled happiness for the first 18 years of my life.  All of which I’m very thankful to have had.  And, as I’ve written before, it wasn’t until I left home for LA when I was 18 that I began to experience that distinct sense of unsettledness and unhappiness that comes with the challenges life inevitably brings.  Failure, discouragement, and loss are the preludes to unsettledness and unhappiness, and everybody gets a healthy helping of those three.

I write this because I’m at a place where present happiness and security seem somewhat close at hand, yet discouragement and loss are right there alongside.

“The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world” (116).

This world is so filled with unhappiness and a severe lack of security.  Whether it’s an entire country ripped to shreds by a mammoth earthquake or a beautiful country maimed by a hideous and rampant sex industry, personal demons or family illness – whatever the symptom(s) of this broken world may be, the “very nature of the world” (116) is not one that allows us to rest on our laurels for very long.  Change comes, and it comes hard.

But I would be remiss (and too melancholy) if I didn’t also mention “joy, pleasure, and merriment” (116).  As somebody who, at times, struggles to see the good in life, the little vignettes of fun are such gifts.  Creating music with buddies, reading a wonderful book, playing super mario bros for wii, phone calls with great friends that live a country away, special shared moments with my wife, meeting new friends that will be close for a long time, being able to see the future with hope not dread, being a part of a distinct movement of the Holy Spirit – all of them are little islands of sunshine amidst seas of constant challenge.  “Life barrels on like a runaway train” (Ben Folds, “Fred Jones Part 2,” Rockin’ the Suburbs). It’s exactly true that God didn’t design us to set up shop amidst fun-all-the-time.  It’s not reality.  But, how can we know an island without also knowing the sea?  As Steinbeck said:

“For how can one know color in perpetual green, and what good is warmth without cold to give it sweetness?” (35-36, Travels with Charlie)

MLK Day

•January 18, 2010 • Leave a Comment

(pulled from The New Yorker’s The Book Bench)

An excerpt from Martin Luther King’s final work, “Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos or Community?“:

One of the great liabilities of history is that all too many people fail to remain awake through great periods of social change. Every society has its protectors of the status quo and its fraternities of the indifferent who are notorious for sleeping through revolutions. But today our very survival depends on our ability to stay awake, to adjust to new ideas, to remain vigilant and to face the challenge of change. The large house in which we live demands that we transform this worldwide neighborhood into a worldwide brotherhood. Together we must learn to live as brothers or together we will be forced to perish as fools.

We must work passionately and indefatigably to bridge the gulf between our scientific progress and our moral progress. One of the great problems of mankind is that we suffer from a poverty of the spirit which stands in glaring contrast to our scientific and technological abundance. The richer we have become materially, the poorer we have become morally and spiritually.

Every man lives in two realms, the internal and the external. The internal is that realm of spiritual ends expressed in art, literature, morals, and religion. The external is that complex of devices, techniques, mechanisms and instrumentalities by means of which we live. Our problem today is that we have allowed the internal to become lost in the external. We have allowed the means by which we live to outdistance the ends for which we live. So much of modern life can be summarized in that suggestive phrase of Thoreau: “Improved means to an unimproved end.” This is the serious predicament, the deep and haunting problem, confronting modern man. Enlarged material powers spell enlarged peril if there is not proportionate growth of the soul. When the external of man’s nature subjugates the internal, dark storm clouds begin to form.

“Travels With Charlie” – Quotes

•January 16, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I oftentimes move so quickly from book to book that I don’t take the time to process/remember the amazing things that a given author says.  “So,” I thought last night at one thirty in the morning, “Why don’t you go through Travels with Charlie and reread all the things that Steinbeck said that impressed you the first go around (i.e. the things you underlined like a good English major should).”  So I did.  And I loved it.  And I’ve decided that’s what I’m going to do at the end of each book I read.  Some people write book reviews, etc.  Because I know that the people that I read are WAY smarter and more successful than I am, I’m going to refrain from commenting on their work and rather just reproduce it (and, in so doing, re-enjoy it).  So here goes…

Travels with Charlie: In Search of America, by John Steinbeck copyright 1961. A Penguin Book.

(for a cursory understanding of the book and the context from which it comes, see the Wikipedia article on it)

Reason for reading it: I was in indulging in a 10-day-long trip with my wife and friends through Thailand (Chiang Rai, Chiang Mai, and Bangkok) in order to understand the work of The SOLD Project and to a) understand my wife and her work better, b) see the beautiful country of Thailand and its people, and c) come face to face with the exploitation of men, women, and children in the Thai sex industry – and I thought a travel book by one of my favorite authors would be fun to read during the trip.

Quotes

1) “Once a bum always a bum” (3)

2) “A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys.  It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness.  A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike” (4)

3) “We do not take a trip; a trip takes us” (4)

4) “A journey is like a marriage.  The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it” (4)

5) “A projected journey spawns advisers in schools” (7)

6) “I knew long ago and rediscovered that the best way to attract attention, help, and conversation is to be lost” (9)

7) “I saw in their eyes something I was to see over and over in every part of the nation – a burning desire to go, to move, to get under way, anyplace, away from Here.  They spoke quietly of how they wanted to go someday, to move about, free and unachored, not toward something but away from something.  I saw this look and heard this yearning everywhere in every state I visited.  Nearly every American hungers to move” (10)

8 ) “I also knew from thirty years in my profession that I cannot write hot in the event.  It has to ferment.  I must do what a friend call “mule it over” for a time before it goes down” (11)

9) “For I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness” (20)

10) “Submarines are armed with mass murder, our silly, only way of deterring mass murder”

11) “When I face the desolate impossibility of writing five hundred pages, a sick sense or failure falls on me and I know I can never do it.  This happens every time.  Then gradually I write one page and then another.  One day’s work is all I can permit myself to contemplate and I eliminate the possibility of ever finishing” (24)

12) “The mountains of things we throw away are much greater than the things we use.  In this, if in no other way, we can see the wild and reckless exuberance of our production, and waste seems to be the index” (26)

13) “Man has to have feelings and then words before he can come close to thought and, in the past at least, that has taken a long time” (33)

14) “I’ve lived in good climate, and it bored the hell out of me.  I like weather rather than climate [...] For how can one know color in perpetual green, and what good is warmth without cold to give it sweetness?” (35-36)

15) “I think today if we forbade our illiterate children to touch the wonderful things of our literature, perhaps they might steal them and find secret joy” (38)

16) “I can never get used to the thousands of antique shops along the roads, all bulging with authentic and attested trash from an earlier time” (43)

17) (Speaking of Maine lobsters) “There are no lobsters like these – simply boiled, with no fancy sauces, only melted butter and lemon, they have no equals anywhere” (53)

18) “And the forest wept” (59)

19) “Everything in the world must have design or the human mind rejects it.  But in addition it must have purpose or the human conscience shies away from it” (63)

20) “We Americans bring in mercenaries to do our hard and humble work.  I hope we may not be overwhelmed one day by peoples not too proud or too lazy or too soft to bend to the earth and pick up the things we eat” (64)

21) “In establishing contact with strange people, Charley [Steinbeck's dog] is my ambassador.  I release him, and he drifts toward the objective, or rather to whatever the objective may be preparing for dinner.  I retrieve him so that he will no be a nuisance to my neighbors – et viola!  A child can do the same thing, but a dog is better” (65)

22) “Communications must destroy localness, by a slow, inevitable process [...] Radio and television speech becomes standardized, perhaps better English than we have ever used.  Just as our bread, mixed and baked, packaged and sold without benefit of accident of human frailty, is uniformly good and uniformly tasteless, so will our speech become one speech [...] What I am mourning is perhaps not worth saving, but I regret its loss nevertheless” (106-107)

23) “It is the nature of a man as he grows older, a small bridge in time, to protest against change, particularly change for the better.  But it is true that we have exchanged corpulence for starvation, and either one will kill us [...] The sad ones are those who waste their energy in trying to hold back, for they can only feel bitterness in loss and no joy in gain” (107-108)

24) “You know how you see a place and it’s just right, and you’re just tired enough.  I guess you can’t help stopping” (111)

25) “There seemed to be no cure for loneliness save only being alone” (123)

26) “If manners maketh man, then manner and grooming maketh poodle” (124)

27) “The only good writer is a dead writer.  Then he couldn’t surprise anyone any more, couldn’t hurt anyone any more” (134)

28) “After the comfort and the company of Chicago I had to learn to be alone again.  It takes a little time” (136)

29) “Having a companion fixes you in time and that the present, but when the quality of aloneness settles down, past, present, and future all flow together.  A memory, a present event, and a forecast all equally present” (137)

30) “Only through imitation do we develop toward originality” (138)

31) “And I thought how every safe generality I gathered in my travels was canceled by another” (157)

32) “It’s difficult to analyze love when you’re in it” (158)

33) “The [Montana] mountains are the kind I would create if mountains were ever put in my agenda” (158)

34) “It seemed to me that the frantic bustle of America was not in Montana” (158)

35) “It seemed to me that the towns [of Montana] were places to live rather than nervous hives.  People had time to pause in their occupations to undertake the passing art of neighborliness” (159)

36) “”But I see that, as usual, love is inarticulate.  Of all the states [Montana] is my favorite and my love” (159)

37) “For it is my opinion that we enclose and celebrate the freaks of our nation and of our civilization.  Yellowstone National Park is no more representative of America than is Disneyland” (161)

38) “I wonder why we think the thoughts and emotions of animals are simple” (165)

39) “I wonder why progress looks so much like destruction” (181)

40) “They [the redwood trees]  are ambassadors from another time [...] For these are the last remaining members of a race that flourished over four continents as far back in geologic time as the upper Jurassic period” (189-193)

41) “I find it difficult to write about my native place, northern California [...] I find it not one thing but many – one printed over another until the whole thing blurs” (194)

42) “Sometimes the view of change is distorted by a change in oneself.  The room which seemed so large is shrunk, the mountain has become a hill” (195)

43) (With regard to population growth) “Even those people who joy in numbers and are impressed with bigness are beginning to worry, gradually becoming aware that there must be a saturation point and the progress may be a progression toward strangulation” (196)

44) “We have overcome all enemies but ourselves” (197)

45) (Talking about San Francisco) “But this gold and white acropolis rising wave on wave against the blue of the Pacific sky was a stunning thing, a painted thing like a picture of a medieval Italian city which can never have existed” (198)

46) “[San Francisco] had been kind to me in the days of my poverty and it did not resent my temporary solvency” (198)

47) “Civil war is supposed to be the bitterest of wars, and surely family politics are the most vehement of venomous” (198)

48) “Carmel, begun by starveling writers and unwanted painters, is now a community of the well-to-do and the retired.  If Carmel’s founders should return, they could not afford to live there, but it wouldn’t go that far.  They would be instantly picked up as suspicious characters and deported over the city line” (205)

49) “The place of my origin had changed, and having gone away I had not changed with it” (205)

50) “You can’t go home again because home has ceased to exist except in the mothballs of memory” (206)

51) “External reality has a way of not being so external at after all.  This monster of a land [America], this mightiest of nations, the spawn of the future, turns out to be the macrocosm of microcosm me [...] If other Americans reading this account should feel [Travels with Charlie] true, that agreement would only mean that we are alike in our Americanness” (209)

52) “In the delicate world of relationships, we are tied together for all time” (214)

53) “The great concepts of oneness and of majestic order seem always to be born in the desert” (214)

54) “In the desert, the dry and sun-lashed desert, is a good school in which to observe the cleverness and the infinite variety of techniques of survival under pitiless opposition.  Life could not change the sun or water or desert, so it changed itself” (217)

55) “It has been my experience that when paradox crops up too often for comfort, it means that certain factors are missing in the equation” (244)

56) (Speaking on the racial problems on the South in the early 60s) “I knew, as everyone knows, that true but incomplete statement of the problem – that an original sin of the fathers was being revisited on the children of succeeding generations” (245)

57) (Speaking on his experience outside a high school during desegregation) “Even setting this down on paper has raised a weary, hopeless nausea in me again” (260)

58) “‘The ancients placed love and war in the hands of closely related gods.  That was no accident.  That, sir, was a profound knowledge of man’” (264)

59) “‘If by force you make a creature live and work like a beast, you must think of him as a beast, else empathy would drive you mad.  Once you have classified him in your mind, your feelings are safe’” (265)

60) (After a quality conversation) “When he went away I felt a sweetness like music, if music could pleasure the skin with a little chill” (266)

61) (Speaking of his experiences in the South in the early 60s) “So here – a little episode, a few people, but the breath of fear was everywhere” (268)

62) [Charley, his dog] doesn’t belong to a species clever enough to split the atom but not clever enough to live at peace with itself [...] I’ve seen a look in dogs’ eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts” (269)

(end)

“Billboards and Boulevards” by Under the Streetlight

•January 15, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Billboards and Boulevards

Words and Music by Kevin Carey

Arrangement by Nick Clupny and Kevin Carey

Nick Clupny: lead vocals, drums;  Kevin Carey: piano, strings, upright bass, backing vocals

copyright 2010 #underthestreetlight

The song was written after a long discussion on Halloween night about prostitution in major European cities…

Bangkok Day 1

•January 13, 2010 • Leave a Comment

One of our good friends who does great work in the Bangkok red light says that Bangkok is a city unto itself. There’s Bangkok and then there’s the rest if Thailand. And she’s very right (as she is with most of her thoughts on the city). It’s as if the peacefulness and simplicity of Chiang Rai life gives itself partly away as you move south into the young energy of Chiang Mai. But head further south to Bangkok and that lovely Chiang Rai saunter gets hijacked by the sprint of this most major of Thai cities.

The weekend market is HUGE and extremely fun – full of wonderful and horrific smells and every product you could think of. The main indoor mall reminds me of Herrod’s London (in its breadth) except without the exorbitant prices. The food is fantastic, and suprisingly, my Avatar 3D experience is a better movie experience than any I’ve had in the states (save IMAX and of course the Mann Bruin). (PS: How is it that we produce the films yet get our butts kicked by a Thai theater experience??)

By 1030pm, after a quick SkyRail trip, our homeward walk takes us back to Soi 4 and the Nana district – one of three red light areas in the city. It helps (or hurts, however you want to see it) that our hotel sits a few blocks from the epicenter of Nana’s awful tremors. The beer bars are now on our left as we walk – complete with young and old westerners and lots of girls going to work. We even see some eastern european street walkers that we think are trafficked in. Hard to tell, but a seriously unsettling possibility. We take a quick tour of Nana plaza, where a couple thousand prostitutes work. The cat calls come from the women, and men come at us with menus – laminated offerings of the night’s sexual possibilities. It’s Fantasy Island, only it’s not a Disney cartoon. And then we’re back in our hotel lobby, watching the occasional paid-for date night walk in, verify age at the front desk, and move to the elevators and, inevitably, hotel rooms.

Day 1 in Bangkok…