Are we predestined or free-willed, part 2

In attempting to follow up my previous post on this matter, I need to lay some groundwork. First, since writing that post ten months ago, I have come across many ideas that have reshaped how I approach this topic and where I personally fall on this issue. So, I will start by explaining much the most thought on this issue that I have recently come across and we'll go from there.

After writing that post, I began attending Colorado State University for my Master's in Literature. One of the first classes I took was a graduate level course in literary theory, where I was re-exposed to the work of Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault, Jacques Lacan and exposed for the first time to Ferdinad de Saussure, Gilles Delueze, Terry Williams, Judith Butler and Alain Badiou. These philosophers are some of the most vital and important in contemporary English studies, or have been at some point, and all of them deal, or have been used, with questions regarding ontology. Ontology, or the question of being, is essential to any discussion of free will. From a Christian stance, the question of ontology, or what our being constitutes, is a question that is usually assumed to have been answered from the get go. Most of us who were brought up in evangelical circles have been told the purpose of life is to worship God and get souls saved. I'm being reductionist here, but that is the general means by which most of my evangelical experience has answered the whole "what's the meaning of life/being" question. This short answer allows us to take a stance that is both free-willed and predestined. If the meaning of existence is worship, and the meaning of earthly life is salvation, then the "predestined" notion fits with worship and the salvation is free-willed, i.e. personal. Basically, what part of a free-willed, sinful person would worship a holy God, unless that person made a choice to and then the "deep longing" inside someone is filled by enacting their predetermined purpose, worship. This is how I've come to understand the argument from most of evangelical, Protestant Christianity in how this interplay works. Ultimately though, the stance is that God is in total control and most of our free will is, to an extent, an illusion. This highly Calvanistic tendency has permeated western Protestant Christianity, but I'm not ready to throw it out the window yet.

To take a step away from Christianity, I'd like to return to the postmodern philosophers I was talking about before. These philosophers have concerned themselves with a question of ontology, coming to a "conlcusion" if you will, where they reject any stable notion of being.* To go back to the example above, if someone were to say, "the answer is worship of God" then a response in this mode would counter by saying, "but you are not a being that can do that, because God, religion, and your notion of free-will are totally bound up in the ideological constructions of Western society. You do not have free choice, only the ability to work within a system that shapes you in a certain way." In essence, the notion of being is radically under question and to many in a post-structuralist mode, there is no "real" agency. To be reductionist again, free-will doesn't exist because there are forces (not insidious, just for clarification) that mold and shape every person to conform to the cultural norm of the time they are born, from birth. This is seen as neither good, or bad, just the way it is. Taken to its extreme, this is a form of relativism that isn't totally about "all truth is truth" but "all truth is a construction, so no one truth can be totally trusted as all encompassing." We are, in this vein, "predestined" in a sense, but without a end goal.

I am going to take up my further thoughts in other posts, just because this is turning into a long explanation. Look for part three soon.

*Badiou has been associated with an anti-postmodern movement of Continental philosophy, though from what little I've gathered he is not throwing the post-structuralist view totally out the window, and has been actively associated with attempting to return to some stable notion of being that doesn't rely on modernist assumptions and includes postmodern assertions.

Old Post; Reflecting on Bush, six years later.

-I wrote this post for another blog I started that got no traffic. I still like it, so I am reposting it. Originally posted 11/27/10-

I came across a documentary this evening titled "Bush's Brain" that was released in 2004. While it initially attracted my eye, I hesitated to watch it. "Why would I waste my time with such dated material?" I thought to myself. Despite this, I decided to watch some of it, though I admittedly only made it about 15 minutes in. The material, suffice it to say, is not topical at all. However, six years ago it would have been and I was right on the verge of agreeing with it.

The fall of 2004 was a defining year for me. It was my first year of college, I was moving out of my house, turning 20, and getting ready to vote in a very contemptuous election. I was constantly volleying back and forth between my family's desires to see the "Christian" man in office and my new found friends endorsement of the "better than Bush" candidate. While who I voted for is of little consequence now, the issue at hand were the last vestiges of my familially constructed conservatism. Within hours of taking the oath, Bush was making policy that was harshly against my personal beliefs. Tack on the already vehement opposition to the Iraq War and I was fully and completely on the other side of the fence.

I think that my story is echoed by many in my generation. We were all 17-19 when the Iraq war broke out and for many of us, this was tantamount to Vietnam. An unjustified war, one that was not provoked but initiated by the United States. We are also the generation that had to witness 3,000 citizens die on what should have been a normal Fall morning. All of this happening under the auspiciousness of one George W. Bush. In truth, the eight years that "W" was in office proved to be a tumultuous, generation defining time. At least it should have been.

Bush, after two years of being out of office is largely forgotten. I have heard almost no one talk about the man in any fashion. I think he's working on a memoir. In truth, my generation, the one that was so opposed to the seeming dictator, the one that elected the first African-American into office, sees little value in talking about the man we all thought was "the worst thing to happen to America." Myself included.

I was strongly opposed to the Iraq war, even going so far as to yell at my dad one time. I was so deeply invested in my opposition to this war, to Bush's politics, to his image and now I simply pass over a lampooning documentary as "irrelevant." I think most of my peers would do the same.

Maybe we all are just too invested in becoming adults to be that passionate anymore. I'm getting married in less than two months (*the wedding was on 12/18/10) and that brings a whole host of new issues into my life. Perhaps we just feel defeated, because let's face it; the man that was going to "change" everything from the Bush state has failed to meet most of our expectations. Or maybe nothing is happening fast enough, and we really are too focused on immediate results. Perhaps Bush wasn't as bad as we all thought.

What if we all are just too damn apathetic, though? I know many of us believed strongly in our opposition to Bush, but when we look at the nation, not much of anything has changed. Six years later, we are still at war, still in the economic shitter, still questioning our leaders. Still questioning our leaders. There it is; the one thing that can effect real, legitimate change. Questioning. That is how I came to wonder about Bush's motives for the Iraq war and it is what keeps me invested in reading literature. What keeps me invested in interacting with life. Keeps me invested in faith. Keeps me invested. It is, ultimately what can light that fire to "revolution." Social, personal, intellectual, economic, spiritual, whatever it may be. It is what allows us to push forward and be a force for change, because if we don't question, we won't see a need for change.

I, as much as everyone else, got caught up in Obama's rhetoric, much in the way I got caught up in the anti-Bush rhetoric. What I shouldn't have done is let go of my skepticism, because then the disappointments that precede from a Bush, or Obama, or a movement against any such leader wouldn't be so damaging. More importantly, it would still be pushing for real, evidential change and activism. Anti-Bush was a start, Obama-mania was a start. Now, the real work begins and it only took us six years to get here.

-Dan

Rob Bell; Love Wins and some find that offensive.

-This is a post that I was hoping to put up shortly after finishing the book. Unfortunately, graduate school got to me and I am now finally getting to my old, completed but unpublished posts (6/09/11)-*

Over my spring break, I picked up a copy of Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins and read through it in a few days. I have decided to weigh in on this topic and give my own reflections on the book. Let's being with the topic everyone originally got all up in arms over. Is Rob Bell a universalist? Well, I guess you'll have to read on and see.

While many defenders of Bell will contend that he isn't a universalist by what is talked about in the book, and I would agree, this depends on what is meant by universalism. If we are talking about believing that all paths to God are equally as good, then no. Bell makes it fairly clear that he is in agreement with traditional Christian doctrine that states Jesus is the only way to God. What Bell does do is to suggest that God can use "other means" to let people know of him. He uses examples of missionaries preaching to people groups that have little contact with the Western world, responding to the Gospel message with "we've been talking about that all along, we just never knew the name." On this statement, I will agree with Bell that God can (and does) use whatever means God deems appropriate to bring people to God. However, Bell does leave the door open so that people can still hear the Gospel message without ever hearing about Jesus and on this, I'm not sure if I agree. Granted, I am not God, but it seems to me that if you are going to claim Christ, you really do need Christ.

Going off this point, Bell also contends that it is entirely possible that God can still save people after death. On this point, I am less than sure, but what I do love about Bell's argument is that the door is open for God to do whatever God wants and that if God wants to save people after earthly death, God will. However, Bell never offers a definite yes or no as to if this is the case, he simply posits that it's possible and places himself in favor of this view. Bell also acknowledges that there are some people who simply will never, ever choose to be apart of God's kingdom and thus will be told, "You made your choice, you have no part in this." Libertarian free will at its finest.

I hope it's clear that Bell, while trying to remain close to Christian doctrines, is seriously bringing many of them into question. This is Bell's typical oeuvre, to ask questions. It is here that I think most of the controversy erupts, especially now. If you ask enough questions, would you still be able to contend anything as true? Is the act of questioning meant to lead to a new answer, the same one, or no answer at all? Bell is, for all intents and purposes, a mainline Evangelical who asks questions. The harm in this book is that if you already have an answer and have pinned your life on it, probing questions will lead you to see the cracks in your thinking and that, ultimately could lead to a paradigm shift. However, Bell's prose isn't quite up to the questions he's asking and most frustratingly, he provides not annotations and citations for his information. On this, I am almost willing to not endorse the book at all.

However, I will. I will endorse it for a very simple reason; it needs to be heard. Love Wins brings serious questions to the forefront and due to the record number of sales it had, people do still care about this topic. As a starting point for discussing heaven, hell, and the fate of every single person who ever lived it is excellent. However, do more thinking, reading and discussing. His argument is not flawless, his prose frustrating (sometimes), and his lack of citation is confusing. His heart, one of a pastor who deeply cares for his congregation, which includes anyone who reads this book, shines through towards the end. In the retelling of personal stories, Bell casts himself as wanting to give hope to many who have none and to those who have been wounded by the church in the past. Read it for yourself, read it openly and discerningly, and read it with someone. It's a book that requires dialogue which is a rare commodity these days.

-Dan

*In posting this so long after the fact, I realize that several books are coming out in direct, or indirect, opposition to Bell's book. Considering this, I hope this review is still relevant.

Return.

-This, as well as another post, was meant to be posted months ago. However, graduate school and the rigors of everyday life got to me and I didn't. Think of this as the re-reintroduction. (6/09/10)-

I have been contemplating this whole blogging thing lately. After attempting to get myself to begin two new blogs that would, ideally, jump start me into writing again, I have realized that I am just not going to do it. Not unless I really want to. The thing is, I have a lot of desire to blog, just no idea what to blog on. Except, the one uniting factor on this blog, the one thing that consistently brings me back is when I have something spiritual to impart. Some bit of "God-knowledge" that I have gained that impacts me specifically and I feel compelled to do nothing else but share it. So... that is that. When something becomes necessary for me to post, I will post.

And on that note...

...let the blogging begin!

-Dan

The spirit of the Law?

I'd like to postulate something; could it be that the heart and "spirit" of the Judaic-Christian Bible has always been found in the this verse from Matthew 22;36-40: "Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?" And He said to him, " 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and with all your mind.' "This is the great and foremost commandment "The second is like it, 'You shall love neighbor as yourself.' "On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets."

I say this because of a news story I stumbled upon. The story, reported in January of this year, stated that a pottery shard, discovered 18 miles from Jerusalem and dated to around the tenth century BCE, contained this Hebrew inscription (the text below is the English translation);

1' you shall not do [it], but worship the [Lord].
2' Judge
the sla[ve] and the wid[ow] / Judge the orph[an]
3' [and] the stranger. [Pl]ead for the infant / plead for the po[or and]
4' the widow. Rehabilitate [the poor] at the hands of the king.
5' Protect the po[or and] the slave / [supp]ort the stranger.

You can read the rest of the story here. It contains some other insights to how old the written Hebrew language actually is, but to me this is a revelation. Or at least, the beginning of one. We, as Christians, often tend to ignore Jesus as a Jewish individual, someone who studied the Torah and grew up in that tradition. There's a lot of talk among historians about the hospitality of the ancient peoples of the middle east, particularly the Hebrews, and this, along with Jesus' statement about the greatest commandment, seems to affirm all that "hippie, love everyone" ideology that has become popular among Emergent and liberal Christian thinking. I'm not making any grand statements here, because I feel like I'm only scratching the surface but I think my view on things just got a whole new spin and serious shot in the arm.

-Dan

Puppies.

What more need to be said? They are incredibly cute, fun and a great time. Until they don't lose energy and you are trying to write/apply for jobs/watch a movie/eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at which point they become the spawn of Satan. Figuratively, of course.

My new roommate has a puppy. She's by and large awesome, well behaved and thankfully small. However, she's also eight months old and has the stamina and energy of a perpetual motion machine. She also happens to like my dirty laundry, which stands in the open due to lack of closet space.

Children are going to drive me bonkers one day.

-Dan

Are we predestined, or free-willed? pt. 1

I read a blog by Donald Miller where he questioned whether or not God had a specific design for your life and he surmised that there probably wasn't. His backing was that out of the vast majority of people in the Bible, only a scant few are reported as being "chosen" for something great. This idea really stuck with me for some reason. I have been wrestling with it for some time now, because I think that he may be on to something. I know that my early life experience in the church was peppered with this "predestination" ideology; that God has "great plans" for my life. However, I must admit that of the six billion people in the world today, hundreds of millions of them being professing Christians, I just can't see it anymore. What is it about me that makes me so much more, "special" than others? Do I really have anymore "favor with God" than the next person? If I am predestined for great things, then does that mean I have no free will of my own? Is my free will found in submitting to this predestination?

I have this feeling, in the back of my mind, that I am not meant for "great things" at least, not on the level that most would assume. Do I have a sphere of influence that I can positively impact? Absolutely. Does this mean that I have "great things" in store for me? Depends on your idea of great things.

I know that there is some "thing" that I am supposed to do. This "thing" is my passion. It is my "gift." It is what will be the vessel that the Holy Spirit can move through, via me, to influence people. To draw them close to the light of Christ. I suppose that this in itself is a "great thing" as I can imagine nothing greater than a restored spiritual relationship with the Creator. However, I don't feel myself, or most of us really, are going to be people of "great influence." For every Martin Luther King Jr. there's a million John Smiths. I am one of those. We should, ultimately be OK with this, because when it comes down to the last legs of our earthly existence, we should be satisfied in knowing that we leave behind loved ones who were positively influenced by our life.

As for the nature of our free will, a stance that includes us not being predestined for "great things" really leaves much of the leg work of our lives to us. You absolutely can not be any sort of influence sitting at home waiting for God to drop a gift in your lap. Sloth is a horrible vice, one that can be twisted to something ultra spiritual as, "I just need to wait on the Lord."

I have some more thoughts, so consider this a preliminary exposition. I want to go into these ideas more and, more specifically, search out the Scripture to see what it says. I plan to follow up in a few days. Be blessed.

-Dan

Truth.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the concept of truth. From a post-modern perspective truth is an elusive concept. It is something that has no "foundation" for lack of a better word; a completely malleable idea that is dependent on the individuals' life, experiences and education. I can imagine there are some things that are not subject to this, such as water always being 2 hydrogens, one oxygen. While we as humans have deemed those elements those things and given them that arbitrary numerical value, the fact is still that those elements when combined in that way produce water. However, this is more a "truth" than "the truth." In short, what post-modernism seeks to do is lay question to "Truth." "Truth," with a capital t takes on a new realm. It is something that is seen as factual, never changing and solid. That there are no "grand narratives" implies that any sort of text, ideology, or belief system is no "Truth" and thus can be "right for the individual" but not for the collective. This is where I saw myself falling, in terms of my views on the world.

When it comes to Jesus Christ however, this doesn't quite hold. Here's what I've come to believe, or in actuality, rediscover. Whatever my thoughts on "truth" or the world may be, however much they may be contingent to my leaning towards post-modernism, I can't do that with Jesus Christ. When I am faced with the reality that is Jesus's death and resurrection, there needs to be a decision made. It is either true, or it isn't. If true, it should radically change our frame of mind, our life, our values. It should alter us in a way that makes us free. Free from the influences of darkness and sin, free to be people how are actively engaged in this thing called life. Free to be "servants to all." Free to love God without abandon.

A couple of months ago, the pastor of the church I was attending gave a sermon on foundations. He said that the foundation of our lives should be the death and resurrection of Jesus. He emphasized the resurrection aspect because, without it, Christianity is without any value. If all we have is a man dead, or at best a God dead, then our faith is literally dead. Not metaphorically, but literally. But, with the resurrection, Jesus conquered death and gave us life. Spiritual life and earthly life to the fullest. We can take part in this, if we only believe.

I've gone back and forth for the past few years about what I believe. I have come to realize that I didn't want to believe, not because I knew it wasn't true. It was just more convenient for me to not believe. The Truth is that Jesus died for our sins, to restore us to relationship with God, and through His resurrection all this was put into motion. Death, not the physical kind, but the spiritual kind, is conquered. We need not fear about what happens when we die. Our souls can now live in full communion with God, through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. When it comes down to it, my life is fuller, richer, and much more satisfying when I don't deny the Truth, but when I embrace it.

Where do I go from here? I honestly have no clue. I know that I have the foundation, the starting point, but that's just it. It's my starting point! I would like to invite anyone who reads this blog to comment and give me your insight. I would like this to be a place of discussion, a place where we can "work out our faith" together. Peace be with you all.

Engagement.

Just in case anyone still reads this, I got engaged to the love of my life last night. In December of 2010, I will marry my girlfriend of three and half years, Megan. I am more excited for this than anything else in my life!



-Dan

Sacred Spaces.

I want to talk about spaces. During my undergraduate career I took a course titled, "Writing Beyond Borders" and we talked about the spaces that we all create. Through this course I read such wonderful books as Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient, Graceland by Chris Abani and the wonderful works of Meena Alexander. While that class mainly talked about how these writers "wrote" beyond and within the confines of borders (whether they be racially, culturally, geographically, etc.) one idea that stuck out to me in all that time was the idea of spaces. You can not have borders without spaces, and these spaces are created by us, both to house these borders and to fill them. While the rest of this post won't focus (much) on these novels, I felt it a good jumping off point for my idea on spaces.

As I stated before, we create these spaces that house and fill our borders. In The English Patient, the cave of swimmers became a sort of "sacred space;" a place consecrated in some way or another as different. In that particular novel, it was built around the protective care (and subsequent death) of one character by another (though not intentionally). In this case, the "sacred space" is created because of the death of a lover. It is "sacred" by means of being a place of life and death. We create similar spaces (think graveyards), but the kind I wish to talk about are developed on a separate path. The ones I wish to talk about are not consecrated based on something so convoluted; rather they are created as spaces away. While the cave of swimmers is also a place away, it is not a place that was actively sought out. It provided refuge, yet a grave. Thus the dichotomy of it being a sacred space. Like I said though, there are other means of creating these "places away."

One such place, in my own personal life, is located in Glenmere Park, here in Greeley. The park itself is one of the more sought after ones, both due to it's proximity to the UNC campus, but it's relative seclusion. The second is the reason I go there. It is close enough to walk to, yet enough removed so that the sounds of the city fade off into the distance. In Glenmere there is a bench, and it sits facing away from the roads, looking into the park. The view immediately in front is of a pound, with tall, honey brown reeds growing out of the water. There is a slight trickle as the water runs down a stone into a smaller pond, and fish are not uncommon to see swimming through the water. There are birds that nest in the towering trees over the pond and it all sounds so... alive.

I went to this bench the other night, which is where I came across this idea. The area smelled green, and after spending my day working with computers and espresso machines, driving around and staying in my basement apartment, I found the smell of fresh grass and clear water to be refreshing. I felt cleansed. It's this point that I fully realized why I have come to this exact spot over the past six years; it is my sacred space. It is my "away place" where I go to think, pray, be quiet, read, meditate. Write. It is the spot I have designated as "away" from my day to day grind. It, like the aforementioned cave, is also a place of death. It is a place I went to when I was recovering from my aunt's death. A place where I almost broke down thinking of my beloved grandparents who passed away recently. It is a place where I feel like I can be open. A consecrated place.

We erect borders to give us space and definition. As many know though, those borders are quickly disappearing, as the world becomes more and more global. It is this very reason that I think this type of "sacred space" should be sought after. We need areas where we create our own borders, deem it "sacred" by the means in which these places allow us to escape. While I may not have made a strong connection with the literature I began talking about, I still see some small connection between the two. My apologies if I did not quite read into the work what I should have, I've been out of the game awhile. Peace.

Poetry; Ode to a Coffee Bean

A poem I wrote for a class. We were supposed to write something that described a "love" of ours. I decided to write one on coffee. Yes, terribly nerdy, but I thought this might be a good, light post to contrast my previous serious one.

Ode to a Coffee Bean

The smells of sunrise fly into my head
The black, earthy smell of liquid joy
Rouse me from the sleep of engulfing beds
That first sip is as to a child on Christmas,
Getting her favorite toy.
The dark, smooth coating given to the mug
Opens a portal into the secret word
Where one bean from a stately tree hung,
Picked, looked at with a careful eye, in fingers twirled
Chosen to be my morning comfort
From halfway across the globe.
Now you sit, among compatriots ground, covered
With scalding liquid to extract your essence
For me to ingest, to share, to connect as lover
To see the conjoined life we lead, you needing me
To unlock your potential, me needing you to unlock my day.




-Daniel J. Adkins; 2008

Memorium

It's been roughly a year, give or take, since I had to experience three funerals in a row. Two of which were for beloved grandparents, one for my girlfriend's grandfather. To be quite honest, the whole time was utter hell. There was nothing good about the experience, even if all three had the foreboding shadow cast upon the last few months. All three lived full lives, some longer than others. All three left behind families that loved and cared about them deeply. All three, are remembered fondly and while greatly missed, are known to be in better places than they were at the end of their earth bound existence. There was some closure to their lives, too. Grown children, on their own. Grandchildren growing up and becoming adults; the anathema to death. Where there is death, life continues.

But suicide is a different matter. The recent introduction of suicide into my personal sphere of life has brought some new meditations and questions on death. Here was an individual who had nothing apparently wrong. Someone who was, by all accounts, happy and fulfilled in this life. Obviously, this individual was not. Before I continue, I would like to note that this was not someone I knew personally, having only met once or twice. Those times though would not have lead me to think that a little less than a year later that person would be intentionally gone from this existence. It's a curious thing really, that someone would intentionally remove themselves from this life. There was thought, motive, action. Planning. Yet, there is no way to know what brought this on. There never will be.

My grandfather passed because of cancer. My grandmother, old age. Her body simply gave out. There really is no other way to explain it. She lived 95 years and I guess her soul and body decided that was enough time. My grandfather was "taken" by disease. However, even if he had lasted much longer, his body was so ravaged, his 82 year old frame would not have supported him anyway. A twenty something individual taking their own life, with no apparent inner turmoil to cause it? This is where death truly stings.

We can legitimize an elderly death, or one by disease. It wasn't the persons fault, they succumbed to natural forces of the universe. Suicide takes that away. That comfort, that meaning is gone. The death hangs too, like a thick fog, engulfing everything in muted tones, obscuring what should be good foresight. Yet, life continues.

Life and death are intimately connected, so much so that they are nearly one and the same. Life feeds on life. Carnivorous or not, all things we consume are "alive" and all of them die. From before we are conceived by the meeting of our genetic raw data, death is there. Millions of potential pieces of us "die" in the struggle to create us. Women, before the advent of modern medicine, could very well die in child birth. Truth be told, this is still more the case in the majority of the earth. We are truly spoiled in the West.

When a loved one dies, we all must find a way to continue. This is the harshness and sweetness of death; we must continue on without a valuable part of ourselves, yet we are still able to continue. Graveyards are fascinating to me. The person buried there won't give one rip about the plot of land or the headstone. It's all for us. To remember them and to give us hope to soldier on. This should make life all the more beautiful to us. It should cause us to take chances, laugh loudly and heartily, and love without reservation. We don't though.

We get wrapped up in our own lives. Paying bills, raising children, feeding our bodies, the everyday realities of life ad nauseum. Then again, maybe we should just find joy in these realities. Maybe this is where we should find our joy. I could also be blowing smoke out of my ass. That's more the case I think. I'm not going to pretend to understand any of what I've read, or have any answers. A simple meditation on that facet of life that is constantly engaged in the ending of it.

April is national poetry month... and I'm going to post about it again!

First off, I suck at this blog thing. I don't know why, but I don't see myself as having interesting enough content for an all the time thing. I will post, just sporadically (for the 5 of you following anyway).

April is National Poetry Month and as one of my favorite art forms, I plan to engage in this celebration of the written, rhythmic word. To start off, here is another poem I wrote. This came from a class I took where I had to take the title of a poem, not read said poem, and then write my own based only on the title. Here it goes! Happy April!

Only One of My Deaths

Walk down the cereal path and you’ll notice
A curious thing,
The sugar cane smiles brightly, cheerfully,
and resides on equal footing with
The smallest ones.

Happy go lucky creatures dance in
Suspended prose
Grinning eternally , saying to all,
“Come run with me through the syrup fields with
High fructose corn bellies.”

I, as it goes, am immune to this
Siren song, rather my hand
Clutches onto all bran, hydrogenated, iron weighted
Damn near, 100% system maintaining
Rabbit food.

-Daniel J. Adkins; 2008

Please sir, I'd like another.

This blog may come down to being little more than an excuse to complain, but I really dislike my job. Actually, let me rephrase that; I really dislike aspects of my job. I work in retail and a particularly odd kind of retail. On any given day I will find myself selling cigars, brewing coffee, making lattes, baking bread, stocking books/magazines, making sandwiches... you get the point. It's not any of the specific work that gets me down. All lines of work have the tedious aspect that is required to keep said business/employer/whatever going. It's also (most of the time) not the customers that bother me. Rather, it's the realization (or continuous realization) that retail doesn't care about you. As an employee, you are easily replaceable. This element of capitalism is necessary to it's survival; money has no feelings and values so should we expect those invested in the pursuit of such to have any? This is not a diatribe against gaining comfortable living means or buying fun stuff, it is simply a reality of the situation.

I was looking at some customers in line while I was working on something the other day and this thought came into my head; I grew up hearing that everyone was special and, especially coming from a Christian upbringing, that there was something significant and special I can and am meant to do. God had a plan for me, and my gifts and talents could allow me to become anything I wanted. Looking at the people standing in line, I realized how fleeting that sort of thinking is. I imagined all the customers waiting for me working jobs fairly similar to mine. Low pay, long hours, lots of physically demanding work (in one capacity or another) and I imagined them hearing the same things I heard growing up. Then I imagined them feeling beaten down in some fashion because they realized that only 1 out of a couple million ever get a book published. Only a select few see the art, music, karate, whatever classes they take as children turn into something when they get older. We all have to "settle" at some point. This is what I imagined the people in line feeling, because this is what I feel.

With all this said, I don't want to leave on a hopeless note. While the reality of our society and economic model encourages complacency and settling, there is one thing that we have not had taken from us yet. I may make coffee for a living instead of being a famous writer or missionary or something to look up to, but I do have my thoughts. I have my freedom to express my views and this is not limited to a constitutional model. It is inherit in my being as a reasoning human. I can look at a line of people who only want me to make a sandwich for them so they can get back to their lame, shitty job in half an hour and realize how much it says about society. How much it says about myself. Realize that I can express those thoughts via blog on the internet and if that right were taken from me I can still express it on paper, to a loved one, to any one who will listen. So, as I stare another day in face, another day filled with sandwiches, espresso, books and impatient employers and customers, I know that I'm not defeated if I have "settled" for a pedestrian job, because I can think and speak freely and am actively aware of that. It might make all the difference.

A poem.

I have finally decided on the direction I want to take this blog. The things I am presently interested in, and have been for sometime, are literature, society and spirituality. Therefore, that is the direction I am now going to take this blog. I will be posting a few times a week until I can get myself back up to speed on posting. To start things off, I would like to post a poem I wrote for your Sunday afternoon enjoyment. :)

A Steelworker Finds St. Louis Not So Pleasant

Thirteen, the day I began
To belt steel into steel to the tune
Of a Southern Man. My wages stoked
The fire of my mother’s stew
And the threads of the stitches on my
Sibling’s garments.

Nineteen, the day I began
To coat garish wooden boxes
With latex, and oil and stain.
With hues of green, purple, grey
And clothed my siblings the same.

Twenty-five, the day I began
To see the world through hops
Stained lenses, from the planks of floors
To the cool black of pavement, on streets.
My siblings repeated, every line of my
Coarse, brown breath, verbatim.

Forty-two, the day I began
To accept my mother’s words,
“Shades of your father, all of you,”
Echoed from the bottom of our shared
Cocktail glass. My siblings did the same.

Sixty-seven, the day I began
My career as a brown beard,
Much to the chagrin of my siblings,
Our mother needed the company.
Or so I told the smoking pepper-box.

-Daniel J. Adkins; 2008

It's time to post again.

And that's the size of it. I want to post again and I'm not sure if it will be on here or somewhere else. It most likely will be on a blogger server, but I don't know if I will continue this "Proto Merkaba blog." Which reminds me, I never, in the three years I consistently posted on here, explained the meaning of that name. I think that's a good place to start.

There are two different explanations for the name. The main one is probably the most damaging to any sort of "cool" image I may project. However, I am not going to say that first. Fooled ya, didn't I? No, first I am going dissect the two words themselves and give you a "better" explanation. "Proto" is a prefix denoting "first" or "foremost," used commonly in chemical terminology. So to attach "proto" to something is to say that the following word is the "original" or "foremost" of that something. "Merkaba" is a bastardized spelling of the name for the "spirit vessel" or "Chariot of God" referred to in Ezekiel 1:4-26. It should follow then that a logical interpretation of the two words in succession of each other would read as such; "proto merkaba" can be read as the "first spirit vessel." This is the way in which I have interpreted it for the most part. I like the way it sounds, and it gets me thinking. At the start of this blog I ascribed some arbitrary meaning to the phrase "first spirit vessel" that related to Jesus Christ. Yes, that is very "mystic" and some might say "emergent" of me to call Christ the "first spirit vessel" but it makes some sense. If Christ is the first and the last, being one with the Holy Spirit, but also housing it as the human, earthly "vessel" He was for 33 years, then it isn't too hard of a stretch. On a more recent reflection for the title of the blog, it seems very arbitrary in a literal sense. I'm not sure if I totally like it, but it seems to get people thinking and that is a reason that I started this blog that I hope to continue.

Now, the main reason why this name appears as it does. I would like to say the lengthy paragraph I just typed out is the main reason the title exists, but it is only a secondary one. Truthfully, this is where I got the name from. Nerd city, bitches.

-Dan

Swim in it

We do not live in an indifferent universe that does not care whether we sink or swim in the ocean. Rather, the spirit of God compels us to swim and to swim with it's strength.

This is an idea that I find most interesting. I look around at the world, at my present state of being, the situations in which I have lived for the past 12+ months, and I often find it comforting to see it all as an indifferent, "that's just life," philosophy. I find it fleeting too. Unsatisfactory. The engine of creation, the spirit of God, the "Holy Ghost," wishes for me to draw on that power of creation, instilled by God, to "swim" in the "ocean." To "trudgen" through the deep blue of existence. Through lulls and surges.

What awaits on the other side of the expanse of the ocean though? Is it paradise? More of the same? Contentment? Is the act of getting to the other side more important than what's there? Can I care enough to give it a try? The unknown depths are frightening things.

25 Reasons why the place you live at sucks

1. Upon moving in, you find that the "new fridge" you were supposed to get contains three colors on the inside; white, green and poo brown.
2. You proceed to take 75 pictures of your one bedroom apartment, three of which are of the wasps nest hanging from your balcony.
3. The hot water faucet in your bathroom sink doesn't work (yes, there are two separate faucets in the sink).
4. The bedroom window is rotted and falling off leaking heat and letting bugs in.
5. The fix for said window is glue and a lot of it.
6. The glue is also the fix for the leaky bathtub.
7. There is a drainage ditch behind your house that people fish in. Yes, people fish in the drainage ditch.
8. People also make their dogs fetch sticks from the drainage ditch.
9. Before said drainage ditch fills with water, the city sets the ditch on fire to burn up the trash and dead leaves.
10. Your neighbors fight. A lot.
11. You can hear every word of the fights because the walls are roughly three feet thick and most likely hallow.
12. You get sick from the not cleaned carpets of your apartment and the various forms of smoke that emanate through the vents from your neighbors apartments within the first month.
13. Your house is located between a laundromat and a Mexican food restaurant.
14. There is a pack of feral cats who live behind your house.
15. Said cats don't leave because someone keeps feeding them Chinese food.
16. You notice one of your neighbors with a newly bandaged wrist after the fight you heard the following morning.
17. You wake up at 6:30 every morning to either a garbage truck, police siren, fire truck someone yelling or all four.
18. Even though your apartment is on the top story, there is still a weird slope to the floor.
19. You have more closet space than bedroom space.
20. The ceiling in the living room slopes, but no other ceilings do.
21. Your stove and oven knobs have no numbers on them causing you to either burn or undercook everything.
22. Even with all the windows open (only one of which contains a screen), your apartment still feels like you are living on the inside of oven.
23. Another pack of feral cats lives in your hallway at night.
24. There is a CO2 detector sitting on the counter in your kitchen with the battery removed that you notice upon move in.
25. People don't believe you when you tell them you live between a laundromat and mexican food restaurant and always remark, "You really do live between a restaurant and a laundromat!" because that's something you'd lie about.

God, I can't wait to move.

Changes coming

This blog is retarded. Wait, I'm sorry. That's an offensive word. Ok, let's try again. This blog is pointless. Originally started as a vehicle to let me write and speak my thoughts after a very stupid situation and I think for the most part I've been able to do that. However, three years is quite some time and my lack of enthusiasm for this blog lately has only exacerbated my feelings of pointlessness. I imagine I'll still keep it up if there is anything at all I want to talk about, but I get better responses on facebook than I do here. So, pretty soon this blog site will become another graveyard to my attempts of being legitimate on the internet.

However, with this realization of mine, I also recognized that I have written about music more than anything lately and with recent attempts at not getting any work writing about music on the interwebs, a friend and myself have decided to start a metal blog site similar in scope (if not style) to metalsucks and metalinjection. So, pretty soon I'll post a link and you all can start reading my thoughts and reviews on metal music in an appropriate venue. Until that time, keep checking, I might get fired and have to write about it.

-Dan

Your Sunday dose of wandering internet fingers

Sunday is the day of rest (except for us heathens who decide to tell our bosses that we can work on this holiest of holy days) and as such there are no new thoughts to express. Except that I found a video of Skunk Anansie performing live and it made me think of this video. So good!

Sevendust-Licking Cream (feat. Skin from Skunk Anansie)


Also, my girlfriends dog got shaved and now looks like a sheep. So here is a herd of sheep for you all to enjoy. Especially you heathens. Happy Sunday!

Go here so I don't have to resize.