Reason Breeds Insanity

The Message, which I almost never use because it seems to make less sense to me than most other translations, says in Mark that Jesus “taught by using stories, many stories.” We all learn better when hear other people’s stories. I think this singular phenomenon may be why memoirs are so popular now—people learn better when they learn from stories, not from someone telling them what to do. Self-help books have their place, usually in the garbage can in my opinion, but memoirs and creative nonfiction, I think, have a distinct place, not the garbage can, because they feed readers’ need to other people’s stories. We need to hear how other people deal with stuff. Jesus knew that. He knew that people need stories that relate to their lives in order to learn how to function, especially because he was trying to teach them how to live in a whole new way. Of course the new way is the way they should have been going all along. The basic message of Christianity is not much different from the basic message of Judaism: forgiveness, grace, mercy, love, peace, kindness, compassion, and hospitality. Essentially the message is the same: you are created in the image of God; act like it. Perform your identity in Christ. I would go a little bit further with this whole idea of performativity, and if I were writing this for a literature journal instead of a blog, I might talk about Judith Butler, and say that the way we act is much of who we are. But this is a blog, so I won’t. I will say, though, that her whole argument is that we perform our gender. People perceive our genders based on teh way we perform them, or act them out. Wouldn’t it be great if people could look at how we act and immediately perceive our Christianity? My point merely is that our stories should be shared for the better good, to help others realize that we are doing in the world, and to help others make better choices than we have made. Our stories are the evidence we have for the world of our identities in Christ. We act like Christians, we act otherworldly, and we are perceived as Christians, our stories evidence this. Frequently, my stories evidence how far I have to go in performing my Christianity. Sometimes, sadly, I don’t look the least bit Christian. Too often. Mark continues to write: “With many stories like these, he presented his message to them, fitting the stories to their experience and maturity. He was never without a story when he spoke.” Jesus’ stories always fit his specific audience: he was acutely aware of the rhetorical triangle. And he was like one of those guys at the bar, or like a woman in a retirement home, he always had a story. His stories, however, had a point, and made sense. I do think, though, that people may have thought he was a bit like the barfly or the demented person, because his stories sometimes didn’t make sense, so much so that he had to go “over everything, sorting out the tangles, untying the knots” with his disciples. I wonder if they ever felt like he had gone crazy? Well, I know they were confused sometimes, but I wonder if Jesus ever started a story and then Peter and the others looked at each other like “oh, no, here he goes again, telling that story.” I want to tell stories that change lives. I want to be like Jesus.

Switch gears. Today is the first day of summer school. I never thought I would take summer school again. But here I am. Class starts in an hour, and I am not sure I want to go through with it. I am not sure I can. I really enjoyed the past week of doing nothing school related, reading things for pleasure, sewing, plating, mowing, fixing things, and spending time with all the pets. I keep telling myself that it’s only for five weeks, and I can do anything for five weeks (25 days). I am looking forward to reading some theoretical books, and I am excited about reading books for the book club, but I am not so excited about writing. I do know that I will learn tons of valuable information and techniques in this class, but I also know that I am one of the worst writers in the program, so it may be a bit painful. Regardless, it starts in an hour.

Switch gears again. The party at our house was a great success. I had fun, and so did a few of my friends, so that is really all that matters. I just wish that more people would get involved. I mean, if you can’t go to a party, what can you go to? I guess it is a busy time of year. Also, it was Mother’s Day weekend, and lots of people were Mothering.

Orion
by Susan Gevirtz

        What you make on Orion

             I leave to you



      What you take from Orion

              I take to you

If I had it all to do over again, I think I would have moved to a commune somewhere in the Pacific Northwest right after high school before the capitalists got me. I would have skipped the whole college thing and made baskets for a living or something crazy like that, because I hate money. I hate it with the deepest core of my being. If you can hate one thing, it is the effects of money on people. There are some of us who never have enough, and those of us who have so much we can’t properly manage it. I am amazed at how much conversation the topic of the “richest people” in the world generates, and not surprisingly, they are all men. You would never know they are all men by the way we glue ourselves to the telly watching Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, and whatever female is our weekly exploitation. However, I once heard a statistic that the five richest people in the world have a as much wealth as the fifteen poorest countries. I am not sure how accurate that is, because I couldn’t find where I read it. At any rate, the money situation in our world is out of control! How does a world get so out of whack monetarily? If I had to write a composition for middle school English about America and my pride in our country, I think, knowing what I know now, I would write about why America should be communist—or at least communalist with socialized medicine or health insurance for everyone—and why I am so ashamed of who we have become. How can we justify killing the very people we armed (and trained)? That’s like giving a starving kid a cookie and telling her not to eat it! Or teaching a kid how to read, but telling him that some books are off limits. You can’t give people tools to inflict destruction and then get pissed off when they do it! How dare we. We have been very bad, and we can’t even take care of own people, much less afford to buy more bombs and guns! So, I propose we eradicate money, which is according to a very old book that I happen to love, the root of all evil! I would end my middle school rant with these words: Capitalism makes us kill each other, and if every one worked together like on a big sustainable farm (that was for you, Pastor), crafting, growing things, and wearing patchouli, and no antiperspirant, and coloring outside the lines, we could all get along. This is why capitalism is bad and communism is good. Capitalism kills people. Thanks.

On a much more fun, and way less serious note, my friends are coming home!!!!! They are moving back in early July, so we are going to wait to have our hundredth anniversary party for our house until they get here. I am SO excited. Now I actually get to see the kid grow up! Yippee! If anyone hears of any openings in English anywhere, let me know, so I can spread the good word. Now if I can just figure out how to pay to go see Merideth, I will be in luck!

I am reading a book right now that really challenges my thoughts about politics. Even more than God’s Politics by Jim Wallis, Jesus for President by Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw has made me question my life and the way I live it. The whole idea is that our way as Christians should be so radically different than the world’s way that we end up sticking out like sore thumbs. Do you stick out like a sore thumb? Does your life even look different from your neighbors’ lives? Mine doesn’t. I want it to. I would like to think it does, but stacked side by side, I have an average American life. Actually, and even worse, I have an average middle-class American life. I am the bourgeoisie. Ick?!? How did I get where I am? I am not really sure, but I woke up one day to find myself here. I don’t hate it, but where I am looks just like where every other middle-class Christian is. I am not sure that I am so comfortable with that anymore. I am not sure I ever was comfortable with that. Anyway, Jesus for President has challenged the way I think about love and grace. They quote Dorothy Day, whose work I just need to read and then convince Bec to open our house to others, which will probably happen right as hell is freezing over. She Dorothy Day says, “Love is a harsh and dreadful thing to ask of us, but it is the only answer.” Love is the only answer to so many problems. My question for myself is how can I be more love?

With all of that said, I figured out how to make my own shoes yesterday. At least, I think I figured it out—I am going to make them like Espadrilles with the woven sole. Hopefully, I can find some used tires and inner tubes to use for the soles of some others. I read online that tire inner tubes make great insoles; and apparently, tires themselves make great soles. I just need to experiment and figure it out. Also, because it is raining today, I am going to run a few errands and then…..SEW?!?

Anyone know where to get some silk screening equipment for cheap?

I just turned in my students’ grades and got all three of my papers back from my professors. Apparently, I am doing new and original work, but my writing still sucks. Okay, in all fairness, it isn’t nearly as suck-tacular as it was three or four years ago. I just wish I would have known as a nineteen year-old that I wanted to do English for a living. I could have had the advantages of my peers, since most of them were English undergrads and had the benefit of having someone nurture them through this writing process. The good thing is that my profs at least want to help me try to rewrite my papers from this semester to turn them into publishable articles. I really have four papers now that I have been encouraged to do that with, so I plan to spend part of this summer doing just that. I have three British literature essay and one American literature essay. I frequently wonder if I should be in British lit instead! I love American lit, though so there I stay.

I am looking forward to doing a bunch of stuff this summer that I never get to do, although, I can honestly say that I could easily lost in this freedom, and end up doing nothing meaningful. I guess I should just consider whatever I do meaningful, because it all shapes who I am. I am hoping to have a chance to read some things for fun, to do some art, and to make some clothes. I am hoping to be able to stop shopping at retail stores by fall. I am sick to death of retail- raping the world to clothe Americans. I figure I can help by making my own clothes, but now the trick will be to find material that isn’t just as bad as the clothes in stores. Oh, and I also need to learn how to sew.

EDIT:
Stuff from my other, old, defunct blog. Cinco de Mayo!

So I walked the mini-marathon on Saturday, spent the day lounging around on Sunday, and feel fine today. It took Bec and I nearly four hours to finish the race, and I know she could have finished it way faster than we did, but it was fun because we did it together. I am hoping that next year I can finish it quicker than this year, and I think if I walk everyday I will be able to. Also, I will probably lose some weight walking everyday, so it should make walking easier. I am all about being proud to be a fat kid, but when I can’t walk 13.1 miles without nearly dying, it’s time to get healthier! And healthier I will get.

I think this summer needs to be the healthy turning point in my life: meditation, walking, veganism, low-stress, and Sabbath. The hair growing is all just desire. A friend of mine asked me what it has to do with the rest of the healthy living, etc. I told her it has nothing to do with it, but I think I have changed my mind. Some religions believe that hair holds memories. I tend to agree. I want my memories to be measured out in dread locked, sustained and twisted over time. Hair is a great metaphor for life.

At any rate, I have tons to do this summer, but none of it too serious.