Work With Hope

The Advent Calendar traces its origins to 19th Century Germany, where it was used by Lutherans to encourage children to count down the days to Christmas.  Generally it consisted of a paper picture, often of a religious theme, with 24 doors.  Each door concealed a picture or a Bible verse or (usually very bad) candy.  As  Christmas approached, the doors usually became larger and more central, and the prizes grew in value.  There is no data available about the number of Advent Calendars that are started and never finished, or creating candy feasts of missed weeks.

Most ironically, the Advent Calendar is almost never a calendar of Advent, which begins 4 Sundays before Christmas however the calendar falls (of course these blog posts also follow the calendar of December and not the Church calendar.

Most Advent Calendars are secular now as the tradition has been embraced by parents of all sorts, trying to find creative ways to teach children to wait through the months.

There are also some weird Advent Calendars

 

Asa always, I welcome your comments.

There is no more central image of Christmas than the Nativity scene.  Physical reenactments of the great day in Bethlehem trace their history to St. Francis, but the iconic grouping had been found in art for long before that.  I was looking at one such painting by early Renaissance painter (and delightful liqueur) Fra Angelico.  All the elements are there, Mary, immaculate as ever (shout out to the feast today), Joseph, almost painfully irrelevant, visitors (a huge group, including three or four partially clothed men in the back), ox, ass, horses, peacock.

Wait…peacock?

Quickly googling “peacock Nativity” I found an number of similar paintings as well as peacock figurines for use in Nativity sets.  Now there are other birds, but doves, I can sort of see as a symbol of peace.  Ducks and geese seems suitably “stabley,” The rooster is there because of the story of the cock crowing at midnight on Christmas.  But I couldn’t think of any historic or symbolic reason for the peacock to be represented in a non-native part of the world, so I had my favorite thing at this time of year, a weird tradition to explain.

Luckily I Googled it so you don’t have to.  It turns out there are three possible reasons for the inclusion, each slightly odder than the last.  First, the many eyes on the feathers of peacocks were thought to represent the all-seeing eye of God, watching over the entire scene.  Looking at this picture it would seem that he would need multiple eyes to keep track of the throng outside the stable…my gosh there is a crowd!  The second explanation references a belief by St. Augustine that the peacock had “antiseptic qualities,” thus was an instrument of healing.  The other belief of the time was that peacock flesh was incorruptible.  I don’t know where this belief came from…perhaps peacock meat was so delicious that there was never any left to rot.  Thus the incorruptible peacock symbolized the incorruptible Christ child.

These esoteric traditions reflect humanity’s ongoing need to add to and put their own stamp on the story.  Whether it be pooping figures (see last year) or peacocks,  the Nativity is a starting place for human imagination and creativity.

As always, I welcome your comments.

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Today I returned from a job in the Bay Area (more about the whole job thing later) and I was planning to take a leisurely drive down the scenic 101, but last night I realized that I had to take the potently un-scenic 5.  The reason for this change came completely down to one word:  fire.

Anyone following the news this week has seen the startling pictures of forests, brush, and houses engulfed in flame.  I was put off from my beachside drive by pictures of traffic creeping through areas with fire only yards from each side of the freeway.  As upsetting these pictures may be, made more so by the direct incursion into populated areas, they are to some extent as typical of the late fall in California as hurricanes are to the East Coast, our rolling natural disaster.

When I see these pictures I am always torn.  What am I supposed to feel?  Of course my heart breaks for any loss of life or loss of property.  It seems every year we are told that this is the worst ever. I’m wishing that there were no fires and dreading the winds and heat that are their harbinger.  However, is this the right way to feel?  Fires existed long before humans moved in to California.  In fact the appropriate amount of fire is necessary for the health of a forest.  When humans incur in a natural environment, it is not possible to eliminate these threats, so while the destruction is sad, it is the playing out a deal made in our natural cohabitation.

On the other hand, I worry about broader trends that this destruction reveals.  There has been a clear shift of weather from my childhood.  The late summer heat lasts longer and longer.  No “natural” phenomenon can be seen as unaffected by climate change, and every year, every change makes me wonder when a tipping point will put things completely out of joint.  Is this a fire created by the natural environment, or an effect of everything that is being done to the earth as a whole (this is not even considering the human carelessness or recklessness that start fires)? Are the losses of so many home and business owners and the struggles and losses of fire fighters solely a natural disaster, or was nature given a push?

So while my sympathy is unquestioned, my reaction is confused.

As always, I welcome your comments.

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December 6 is the Feast of St Nicholas, which has two distinct traditions. Children in Western European countries put their shoes out in the hall for the Saint to fill with goodies. Also children (and others) enjoy candy canes, commemorating the Saint’s Bishop staff. In Catholic Schools in the United States, these two traditions are often convoluted, as children leave their shoes outside the classroom to have the Saint put a candy cane in them.

Apparently there is also a blessing for candy canes:

May these sweets, these candy canes,

be a sign of Advent joy for us.

May these candy canes,

shaped just like your Bishop’s staff,

be for us a sign of your benevolent care.

Wherever these candy canes are hung,

on tree or wall or door,

may they carry with them

the bright blessing of God.

May all who shall taste them

experience the joy of God

upon their tongues and in their hearts.

We ask God, now, to bless

these your brightly striped sweets

in the name of the Father,

and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Image: http://www.dw.com/en/why-st-nicholas-puts-candy-in-boots-and-stole-our-hearts/a-18889948

I have only a short time tonight because I am working with colleagues generating and editing an assessment report for a school in Central California.  It is my first time through this process, and though I’ve done accreditation visits and generated those reports numerous times, it is still learning a new language with a new set of terms and nuances.

What I want to comment on tonight is the immense satisfaction that one finds in working with a team.  I always think of myself as a loner.  In school I hated group work, and if I’m at a workshop and the speaker tells me to turn to my seatmate, I develop a need to run to the restroom.  However, working with a group of intelligent people on a shared project is an exhilarating experience.  Each person writes a section of the report, and the group edits the draft.  It is a highly intimidating experience for a person who takes pride in his writing to put work in front of a group for the first time, and it can be ego bashing if they don’t see it as brilliant.  However, in the process of sharing ideas, there is a collegiality, a collectivity that you don’t find anywhere else (feelings that are exacerbated by pressure to get things done and growing weariness).  the work stops feeling like work and starts to feel like jazz, a free form collaboration leading to something beautiful.

Oh…I have to get back to work

As always I welcome your comments.

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Occasionally I discover a great obscure song from a group that I’ve never heard of.  This morning in my weekly recommendations on Spotify, I found “You and Me” by Penny and the Quarters, which has an odder than usual journey .  The group was a no-hit wonder that recorded the song likely in the early seventies (far later than I would have thought by the sound) as a demo that was never released.  The demos were purchased in an estate sale and “You and Me” was put out as part of a collection which somehow was heard by Ryan Gosling who insist that it be included in his current film Blue Valentine.  After the movie release, there were efforts to find any remaining members of this group in order to share the royalties, but according to the Wikipedia account, none of the original band members were located.

I love the raw sound and the simple feeling of the lyric.  I also love the thought of a group earnestly recording what they hoped would be their shot at fame.  The shot died like so many others, never to move beyond the demo, however, it found new life 30 years later and is a golden oldie that we have never heard before.  I wonder how many other amazing songs were never heard by Ryan Gosling.

Anyway, enjoy the song and share it with someone you love.

As always, I welcome your comments

Today is the First Sunday of Advent, and within the Christian Calendar this marks the beginning of the anticipation of the celebration of Christmas.  By the lay of the calendar this Advent falls as late as it possibly can.  In fact, the Fourth Sunday of Advent falls on Christmas Eve, a once on seven year occurrence that confuses parishioners, exhausts celebrants and singers, and gums up church parking lots.

To most, the opening statement about beginning anticipation of the celebration of Christmas is laughable.  Every media and commercial vehicle has been in full scale celebration mode for over a month.  I went to a Christmas party last night, and I noted in a store yesterday that Christmas decorations are starting to be discounted, a sign that fewer and fewer “oddballs” have yet to decorate…It’s December 3!

This post, however, is not going to be a tirade over consumer culture commercializing and hastening Christmas.  We feel what we feel when we feel it, and in this world of so much anxiety and pain, it is wrong to turn our back to the peace and generosity of the season whenever it is felt.  Telling people to temper their celebration doesn’t increase joy at the proper time, it just lays guilt on top of natural feelings and tells us to embrace the unnatural.  I enjoy the Christmas tree, decorations and songs in the days after Christmas, but I am lying if I say that I don’t enjoy them much more in the days before.

So what do we make of Advent, a time of waiting designed to parallel the centuries waiting by humankind for the Savior?  Three aspects of Advent can actually enhance and improve the celebrations we enjoy whether they be religious or secular.  The first is recognition of the incompleteness of our world and our need for the hand of God to bring peace and justice.  We celebrate in joy tempered by knowledge.  The second is the recognition that we are accountable for our time, and our lives have meaning primarily for the impact we have on the world and the lives of others.  Most importantly is the recognition that we should live and work not in despair but in hope (sounds like a good title for a web page).

So put up your tree, play the songs, celebrate with friends, remember those in need, but enhance these joys with the purpose and hope that we also celebrate in this season.

As always I welcome your comments.

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I received an email yesterday inviting me to “save” money on my Spotify account by paying a year ahead of time instead of my monthly payment.  I love Spotify,  it has transformed my music listening by giving me access to a virtually unlimited catalog and good curation tools, and I will most likely take advantage of their “generous” offer to save $20, but it called to mind the huge transformation to personal finance that the digital age has “generously” given us.

Apart from basic utilities (being generous to include cable and cell phone in this list…and don’t get me talking about storage!) I pay a monthly fee to the following services

• Spotify
• Netflix
• Amazon Prime
• Mubi (an independent movie service)
• MoviePass (probably will write about this later)

I’m sure that my list is not unique, and that others may have longer lists.   All of these payments are tied to my credit card, so aside from my monthly review of the bill (which isn’t all that careful) I never think about them. I have carried services that I no longer use for years before I took the (often onerous) steps to cancel them.  I suspect I’m not unique in this as well.

I’m not criticizing these services, I use all of them regularly (though I wonder at times if I need both Netflix and Amazon Prime Video), nor am I turning curmudgeon about the cost and complexity of modern living compared to my analog youth.  However, I can’t help but note that we are moving from an ownership society to a rental society.

A good example of this is that staple of digital life, Microsoft Office.  When I was a digital youngster, Office was a purchase.  It was expensive, but it was yours (one might argue that based on user agreements, it was never as clearly a possession as we thought, but it felt that way).  About five years ago, Microsoft decided to switch to a complete subscription model.  Now, one could argue that that this actually was a superior model for users.  The software was kept current automatically and could be shared over several machines and platforms (which was always a problem with the limited use disks).  The cost was approximately the same as one would pay to use and update office at a reasonable pace, and users also have access to OneDrive, a cloud storage service.  However, I no longer “own” Office, I rent it, and my payments are tied to my credit card to assure that I will continue to rent it unless I go out of my way (far out of my way) to cancel.

Again, I think there is value to this system, but my fear is that without regular examination (and reflection) we run the risk of becoming tenant farmers in a new feudal system, owing more and more of our existence to the Company Store.

So I propose that we all start to celebrate a “Digital Subscription Liberation Day.”  Once a year (or more often) make a list of all services and subscriptions and decide whether or not they ate used enough to merit the yearly (not the monthly) cost.  For the ones that don’t make the cut, we dedicate a day to sever these leeches.  The end of 2017 is as good a time as any; get out those scissors!

As always, I welcome your comments

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I’m sure that everyone who notes the turning of the Calendar page from November to December has a slightly different reaction to the big December 1. Some must wonder at the passage of time, pushing out 2017 before we ever really got our footing. Alternatively, some must feel equal wonder the the world might actually make it to the end of a year that has been fraught like none other. For those less concerned with global musings, the new month certainly triggers anticipation (and anxiety) for quickly approaching holidays, and Im sure there are children who can’t believe that they still have to find that darn elf 24 times before it pays off.

For me, of course, it means the beginning of my yearly 24-day marathon of blogging. On the slightest of chances that there are any new readers this year, I’ll explain. For the past four years, I have set a goal to write a new blog post each of the first 24 days of December in anticipation of Christmas. The themes are always completely random and dictated to me by the experinces and thoughts of the day. Though Christmas always lurks in the background of the chain, I’ll write about all aspects of life as I experience it, professional and (quasi) personal. My goal is 24 short pieces here and a greater mindfulness and focus in my life in general. Thank you for participating in my yearly therapy.

I am writing in a different world from that which I started in 2016. I started today by reading some of the posts from last year in which I expressed my fears about what was to come. Sadly, most of these fears have been realized in spades, as parts of our world are far uglier, far more brutal, and far less tolerant than I can remember (and I certainly am not writing about “Baby It’s Cold Outside” this year!). It has also been a year of immense personal changes for me, few of which I could have seen from the ledge of 2016.

But before you abandon me as an unneeded anchor in your own winter depression, I don’t intend these posts to be primarily negative (and I hope they won’t be sappy and self-indulgent). I have good news in my heart. I have found care and friendship and love of many whom I will never be able to repay. Even fate, ever the trickster, has thrown me some unexpected silver linings, even when I drove perilously near the cliff. I have great stuff to share with you…I can’t wait to see what it is!

For anyone who doesn’t recognize the title of today’s blog, this is the opening line of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol (I noted that I didn’t talk about this novella at all last year, so I’m kicking off with it this year). It is the most somber of openings, which is followed by five more mentions of Marley’s expiration, but for those who read past this line, the narrator assures us, “This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.” I hope to be relating a truly wonderful story…wonderful in every sense…and I am so grateful for you to come along.

As always, I welcome your comments

Image: https://pixabay.com/en/advent-calendar-door-golden-advent-525684/

I have spent the last week in the desert (literately and metaphorically). Using Mesquite Nevada as home base, I’ve relaxed and visited the three most famous National Parks in Utah, Bryce Canyon, Zion, and Arches.  Aside from some wonderful drives and exhausting but beautiful hikes, I also noticed more than ever before the varying character of these parks, and how each awoke a different emotion and connections inside of me.  As hoped, the journey outward focused me inward during this transitional time.

Bryce Canyon
I visited Bryce first.  I’ve been there before and seen how beautiful it is with its thousands of stacked “Hoodoos” standing sentinel over the canyon.  This time I was amazed by what a hidden gem the canyon is.  When you arrive in the park, the terrain looks like any other wooded park.  Trees, mountains, trails, it is remarkable in its unremarkableness.  However, when one walks up to the bluff and looks down, the true beauty and utterly unique character is shown.  I stood on that initial bluff and enjoyed the reaction of others as they first saw this monument reveal its indescribable beauty.  Upon looking at this picture, a friend said, “It looks like the Grand Canyon,” but I have to disagree.  The Grand Canyon overwhelms with its scale, its immensity, its remoteness.  Bryce in comparison feels small, intense, completely present. It is relatively easy to hike down through most of the Canyon and walk amid the Hoodoos (walking back up is another story, however).  Bryce is an inward journey, finding and exploring beauty one would never have expected from the outside.  

Zion
Zion is the park that I’ve visited most often, and I would argue that it is the most beautiful and wonderful of the National Parks. The experience of Zion is opposite that of Bryce. You see the glory of Zion’s peaks miles before you enter the park, and though there are hidden views and treasures at each turn as the tram takes visitors into the deepest folds of the park, the bigness is apparent in every direction. I think Zion is the best named park (ok, Arches is on point, but perhaps a bit on the nose), as no place on earth captures God’s glory more completely. Hiking in Zion is wonderful, but to some extent, it doesn’t make one feel closer to the heart of the park. That heart is found on the horizon. I took this picture at the end of a hike, I saw pools and waterfalls, but this picture (which I think is the best I have ever taken) is the essence of Zion. The immensity of the world, its glory, and possibility is alive in whatever direction you look.

Arches
I haven’t been to Arches before, and my visit was truncated a bit by a 7:00 pm curfew caused by nighttime roadwork.  However, I hiked out to see Delicate Arch, the most famous landmark in the park, and probably the most photographed site in the state.  It was a rigorous hike (which I had to do at a quick pace to make it back in time), but the work was worth it as I turned the corner and saw something unlike anything in any other park in Utah or any other state.  Before me stood a massive gateway, carved by wind and water, both calling me to look at it and through it.  A picture of Delicate Arch is not of the arch alone, but the sky and landscape behind it (there are postcards with the moon centered in the arch).  Whether taking a picture from across the rock bluffs, or standing in the middle of the arch, one understands that the Delicate Arch exists simultaneously as work of art and frame. 

These three park experiences, hidden immediate beauty, immense and somewhat remote grandure, and focus both at and beyond the goal monument, suggest obvious metaphorical truths should one be in the desert searching for truth.  But whether one is looking for truth or just spending a week, there are three different natural realities all within a day’s drive of Mesquite Nevada.

Next week it’s back home and creating various new realities for myself.

As always, I welcome your comments.