Teammates

Teammates, originally uploaded by fotobutterfly.

Here we all are, Americans and Belarussians, at the airport in Vilnius, Lithuania.

11.26.2005

this was such a great time... I miss the Belarussians.

i'm back.

Back from Belarus. Back at work. Back in the blogosphere.

I am really sad.

I miss that place, and the people I met there. But I had a wonderful time and look forward to sharing pictures with you all from the trip. It was the best week of my year, if not my life. The trip has given me a lot to think about. One of my new Belarussian friends, Yulia, is coming to visit in December-January. It will be really nice to have a reunion with her and the rest of the American team! We all grew so close, so fast, and they became an extended family, a family I hope I will continue to be in touch with for a long time.

That's all for now. Send me an email and let me know how you all are doing, how your Thanksgiving holidays were. Or call me and we'll talk.

the beer inspired me

the beer inspired me, originally uploaded by krisde.

yes, i pour it in a glass... when i want a good photo.

aren't you glad i did?

my spot.

my spot., originally uploaded by krisde.

my shadow, at Churchill Downs.

don't miss me too much while I'm in Belarus.

hedging bets

hedging bets, originally uploaded by krisde.

a Sunday afternoon at the tracks

a Sunday afternoon at the tracks, originally uploaded by krisde.

since I know ya'll will be bored while I'm gone, with about 11 days of no blogging, I thought I'd leave you with some photos...

losing innocence.

Innocence is not desirable in our culture.

In fact, we even harp upon those things that glorify the lack of innocence and seek to turn the innocent into the perverse. This has been demonstrated by the media most recently in an article in the NY Times that Karen and I were discussing, re: C.S. Lewis. The article seeks to point out the potentially scandalous items of interest about Lewis and his apparently shady past, while also analyzing him utilizing Freudian psychology, and blatantly seeking out that which can be arguably risqué about an often highly-regarded children’s work, the Chronicles of Narnia. The NY Times article shows how the simple or plain reading of C.S. Lewis’ children’s books is not the desirable reading; rather, it compels a nit-picky reading, searching for inferences that could lead to conspiracy theories about Lewis and his past. Why? Why why why? Because it’s juicy? The guy is dead, what is juicy about digging up a shady past of a dead guy? Don’t we care more about juicy information on the latest celebrity or star? (So we think, but this thinking, too, is flawed.) Or maybe they just want to ruffle some evangelical feathers. They ruffled mine, but not in the way they perhaps intended… (in other words: I am not bothered. I am not going to burn Lewis’ books.) (They could have done this to someone like Tolkien or Lloyd Alexander or Susan Cooper or E.B. White, and it would still be frustrating.)

No, Lucy and the rest of her siblings climbing through a wardrobe can’t simply be about an adventure, can it? Surely the children reading this book will see the Freudian sexual implications and Lewis’ psychosis! This can’t be merely a story, merely an adventure, merely a fantasy… it has to be perverse in some way, apparently. Why wasn’t this obvious to me as a sixth grader reading this? Why wasn’t this obvious to me after reading it in college? Why wasn’t the Freudian connection apparent after I read Freud’s Case Histories and Interpretation of Dreams? Maybe the reason is because this essentially is like drawing a nonexistent needle out of a haystack, a needle of danger out of a haystack of fun, playfulness, and innocence. Sigh. This makes me sad.

This sort of digging up of someone’s life and putting it under a microscope, is done in such a way that all of our lives would likewise seem corrupted, perverse, and risqué if scrutinized in similar manner. Frankly, none of us are innocent. But isn’t innocence something we should seek to preserve, encourage, and prize? What gain is there in losing innocence? I am thinking there is very little gain. I am not speaking of outright ignorance. I recognize great benefit to gaining knowledge and understanding. But here I am speaking more of the purity of innocence that is to be prized. Clearly we can be both innocent and shrewd, but this is very hard in our culture, and frankly, in our world at large.

On another note! Thanks for all the book recommendations. I ended up buying
Notes from Underground by Dostoevsky and One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexsandr Solzhenitsyn. These two should keep me busy for all the flights and travels. These two and my trusty journal, that is.

I definitely want to read, someday soon, The Idiot, Demons, and works by Chekhov. Never heard of Gogol, but on your recommendation Nick, I'll be sure to check him out.

Leaving for Belarus in 30 hours and 58 minutes...

untied and streaming

untied and streaming, originally uploaded by krisde.

new red sauconys. my brother-in-law rocks two times over

a little Ryooski.

in light of beginning my trek to Belarus in 6 days, 3 hours and 12 minutes, I am thinking of bringing something Russian to read. (Seeing as how I will have LOTS of time to read/write/think... as in, I leave for Cincinnati Thursday 5:30pm, but won't arrive in Belarus until Saturday about 1:20pm their time...lots of travel, long layovers and long flights.)

As I've already read Brothers K, War and Peace, and (most of) Anna Karenina, I am looking for something else. Right now I am leaning towards Notes from the Underground by Dostoevsky (pronunciation: dastaYEfskee).

Any thoughts or recommendations?

You know something is wrong with you when…

• You pour a beer into a glass and your first thought is to take pictures of it rather than drink it.
  
  
• You like staying up late… and getting up early… and don’t mind (and usually don’t even feel) the sleep deprivation.
  
  
• You even get up before sunrise on a Saturday just to take pictures. Three Saturdays in a row.
  
  
• You don’t feel guilty ignoring “No Trespassing” signs on abandoned property for a photo.
  
  
• You cut the end off your toothpaste tube to clean it out rather than just throw it away and buy a new tube of toothpaste. You even do this with the trial size toothpaste tubes.
  
  
• You convince yourself you’re saving valuable pennies and avoiding the headaches of shopping by doing so, but then shamelessly blow $900 on a new camera.
  
  
• You pick litter off the beach or grass or sidewalk. Just because you’re inspired when a friend is doing it.
  
  
• You like to donate blood. Every 60 days.
  
  
• You get extremely excited over providentially running into an almost-stranger for the third time in a month, and there is no romantic feeling provoking the excitement, but your friends give you suspicious looks anyway because what else would cause such giddiness??
  
  
• Your excitement grows exponentially the more people you tell about this providential run-in, even though their eyes glaze over and they mumble things like “huh...” in response.
  
  
• You think plaid pants on guys can be sexy.
  
  
• You’ll tell people that you think so.
  
  
• You look for excuses and occasions to wear argyle socks.
  
  
• You’re left-handed but play every sport as though you were right-handed.
  
  
• You actually like the graveyard shift when driving.
  
  
• You do geometrical math proofs in your head while you drive.
  
  
• You also take pictures while you drive.
  
  
• You’d rather undergo physical pain, like burning your hand by catching a falling hot waffle iron, than be slightly embarrassed by having the waffle batter pour all over the floor.
  
  
• You find that alcohol has no effect on you before 4 drinks, but a couple of pixy stix will make others think you’re drunk.
  
  
• You enjoy sleeping on floors, and don’t mind living without a bed for weeks or months at a time.
  
  
• You find fasts from T.V. and music and food are positive and productive experiences.
  
  
• You actually enjoy hanging out with former high school teachers.
  
  
• You don’t like wearing gloves when you do yard work. Even when you start bleeding from thorn pricks and scratches.
  
  
• You like to pick dirt out of the soles of your sneakers with a toothpick or a Swiss army knife.
  
  
• You find yourself writing essays on such things as the constitution of ice cubes and having opinionated stances on such trivialities.
  
  
• You long for the time when writing an essay on quantum mechanics was your homework.
  
  
• Your friends and family give you weird looks because sometimes you can’t stop smiling to yourself or will randomly start laughing even though nothing external provokes it.
  
  
• You find that something as simple as a bumper sticker, a sweatshirt logo, star-gazing, or a photograph will make you cry but you are dried eyed and nearly unperturbed by physical pain, depressing news stories, road kill, and gaping, bleeding knee wounds.
  
  
• You ignore people who tell you that your hair is light brown and insist it is dark blonde with no legitimate reason for this preference.
  
  
• You hate shopping and malls and consumerism and materialism but you own at least 20 pairs of shoes.
  
  
• You realize that living in 7 states and 8 towns in your lifetime doesn’t seem like a lot, that driving 12 hours through the night alone doesn’t bother you, or sleeping in bus stations while backpacking in Europe was not a big deal, or forcing yourself to sprint 2000 meters on an erg for competition was gratifying in the end even though you felt ill, that moving to another state for college was exciting, that losing your traveling companion while hiking in the middle of Yosemite National Park and hiking an extra two hours by yourself was a good challenge, and living in an apartment by yourself was perhaps mildly unpleasant, but moving to another state by yourself now scares the living daylights out of you.
  

(So this makes me... a photographic fiend, an extreme penny-pincher, a hypocrite, a stoic, an emotional train-wreck, a geek, a road hazard, a criminal, a dependant, an ascetic, backward, confused, stubborn, paranormal, pathological, an intermittent good Samaritan, and I still haven't even mentioned a sinner and a recovering Pharisee... So I’m just plain quirky among many other, possibly contradictory, things. Which actually might be normal...)

Implicit Christian art.

"... be reminded that it’s you and the light of the Creator shining within you that makes your art, art..."
– from Christian Aesthetic

I was thinking this afternoon about our ability to create things that are beautiful, thought-provoking, and in general, artistry that reflects the nature of God or reflects Truth or any such similar thing. You have church buildings that are in of themselves works of art. The architectural designs, the stained glass in the windows, the wood carved altars and pews, the columns and vaulted ceilings, all bespeak of the glory of God while simultaneously speaking of the creativity in man that can reflect, form, sculpt, construct, make, create such beauty.

However, there are a lot of other mediums of art besides architecture and stained glass. Paintings. Christian paintings are often displayed, but usually only seen in Orthodox or Roman Catholic churches, in the form of icons or painted ceilings. Sculpture. Sculpture appears less in churches, and if it is present, it is usually a sculpture of a person, a saint, Christ, Mary, the Nativity manger scenes, etc. Sculptures seem to be rooted more in Europe. (Plus, in Europe, the paintings/sculptures seen are very old and have a history… there is little of contemporary, present-day artwork… Granted we’re not all Michelangelo, but all the same, our best efforts still honor God….) However, most of these paintings or sculptures you might see are specific in their scope. They are clearly Christian. They depict specifically Christian symbols, people from the Bible, or historical events that are the makeup of Christian heritage or the history of the Church. Thus one of the main mediums of art I use – photography – is understandably absent.

There are no photographs of Christ. There are no photographs capturing historical events of (ancient) Christianity. However, I am not about to say that photography cannot be an art, and a God-glorifying art at that. (Granted, much of photography is not art, and I confess, much of my own is not art.) Photography as a different medium can also certainly provoke a different impression than one would receive by gazing upon a sculpture or looking at a stained glass window. However, the very thing – time – that keeps photography from being an art form “on display” in our churches also reveals the diversity to the other “accepted” art forms in church – sculpture, painting, stained glass – that are not embraced in church because the expression is not decidedly Christian.

For a church, I can understand this. However, I contend there is much to art that is beautiful and glorifying to God that may not depict any traditional figure or symbol from the Bible or the history of Christianity contained therein. So where is the place of Christian art that lacks the explicit portrayal of Christian themes and persons? Where can implicit Christian art be displayed for enjoyment, and for the purpose of drawing near to the Author, the Creator? If I were to propose to the pastor of my church that more art created by Christians be displayed in the church, but artwork that may not necessarily consist of a sculpture of the crucified Christ or a stained glass mosaic depicting the Garden of Gethsemane, what would he say? I am not sure. But what would be a good venue for such art? Church hallways if not the sanctuaries? Christian bookstores? Christian schools? Coffee shops? Art galleries? Magazines or books? Internet (blogs and webzines and photojournals)? Where could one go to appreciate art by Christians? And why would we keep art by Christians out of churches? Is this because we still must put art under a discerning, judging eye? (Thus the question, who is to judge, or value a piece of artwork?)

I will attempt to say, in summation, what I am trying to really get at: I don’t think art is appreciated as it should by Christians. I don’t think many Christians cultivate their natural, creative abilities and talents. I don’t think these talents are encouraged or embraced to the extent that they should within the Christian community. But I don’t know how this can change. I don’t know how to incorporate art into faith. Specifically, corporately, not just individually. Individually, I believe I do meld art and faith. But communally, how is this accomplished, and appreciated? Is there an avenue for this appreciation outside of historical norms of icons, tapestries, stained glass, and architecture? Is there a place for other mediums, like photography, and subjects other than biblical figures and traditional symbols?

To qualify what I mean when I am speaking of “implicit Christian art,” I intend to focus on art that is by Christians, meant for the Christian to see beauty and truth in God and His world, and yet also meant for the non Christian to contemplate the truth and beauty another finds in God.

Or do we sequester such art to only our homes, for personal reflection and worship?

I also have not even considered the art of writing, which may need to be saved for another discussion, in another post.

(I feel I am being *terribly* inarticulate, but as I have gone over this multiple times and can’t seem to “spit it out,” if one garners articulate insight into the ideas and questions that are compelling me to write, feel free to assist me in this discussion.)

when the dusk has descended...

When the dusk has descended and the shadows stretch long and grow small under the street lamps, I walk with a quiet trod laden with noise in my soul. I look to sky and stars and seek to quell the chaos within. With cold berry nose and breath barely perceptible in twilight, I slowly stride to this dissonant cadence in my soul. Unhurried, yet suddenly full of yearning; replete, yet flurrying. Mind and soul soar yards above me, searching, seeking, for sight into splendor divine. Strength straining and still my soul sits in solicitude. Daytime memories catapult across my mind, my mind failing to dam the flood; my world becomes engulfed, words, memories, thoughts, encapsulated in water, smoke, black holes of romanticism. But in the night, the quiet pulls images into frozen nostalgia, fading into a vacuum of passing moments. Eventually my walk finds an end, sorrowfully stuck, avoiding the next road’s bend, and the slab below my feet becomes my seat. My dog, sole companion, sits in the quiet with me, on the cold concrete, behind the place that some would call a home. The trees stand in the dark, and the stars are faint above, faint to sight, faint to my dimming and blurring eyes. Lonesome sitting disconnects from time and place. The breeze above and the moonlight, silhouetting the trees rustling, metamorphose into my sole focused perception. Once this shroud of darkness falls and my limbs give in to fatigue, I feel the ticking time and glimpse my fleeting life, mortal, failed, resigned… I wonder within me, where has my striving gone? Where is my dream, the charisma, life? Secluded in darkness, somewhere, is a buried word, a hidden peace, the ‘Selah’ that my shattering soul seeks assiduously, and silently, unfound.

i broke down

and finally went to a UK basketball game. Hard to believe, huh? Going to a UK men's basketball game live at Rupp Arena is just something I had to do at least once before I skip town. I am not sure what else is on this unwritten list of things to do while I live here, but maybe I should just starting packing my bags now...

oh wait. where would I go? schnickeys.

Seats for the game were about 8 rows back from the student section, lower arena, right behind one of the goals. Pretty fun. Right by the band. I invited my brother-in-law who is lonely with his wife out of town until tomorrow. Good times. I think my favorites are Sparks and Rondo, but that's really unoriginal seeing as how they are the leading players anyway. Well, it's not like I know that much about basketball. Basketball at St. John's sure was nothing like this... ;)

inveterate inattentiveness

"If you do not take the trouble to know the truth, there is enough truth at hand so that you can live in peace. But if you crave it with all your heart, then it is not enough to know it." -Pascal, Pensées no. 226

the danger of inattention is being satisfied with what one already knows. Thereby, one blocks their receptivity to examining ideas, beliefs, truth. As Josef Pieper relates, "... the conditions of modern life not only favor but almost compel such inattention, which makes belief in practice rather improbable."

Thus you shut yourself off to truth, and can do so "virtually with a clear conscience," and this is sad indeed.

However, receptivity requires critical thinking. As Augustine has said (I believe), "The point of having an open mind, like an open mouth, is to shut it on something solid." (or something like that, I am being liberal with this last quotation.)