KEEPING OUR DESIRES AT BAY

I love living by the water. Our house is about a mile from the shores of Commencement Bay. Its deep water was what brought the railroads to Tacoma in the first place and put this city on the map. There are a steady stream of container ships that make their way in and out of the port, dropping off their mostly Chinese cargo. Sometimes, like in the case of this photo, we get so much stuff that ships have to wait in the bay before they unload. It made me think about all the resources that go into filling these ships full of goods and how much we actually need this stuff.

FIRST CHRISTIAN CHURCH (DISCIPLES OF CHRIST): TACOMA, WA

Part of the reason I started doing church reviews like the one that follows is because I find the fractured state of Christianity confusing. I think it speaks to something in us that disagreements inside the church tend to lead to new branches and factions. The church doesn't have a history of working disagreements out and remaining whole; they divide and become separated. On some level the church itself is responsible for that fracturing in all of us. The cross scoring system is a bit confusing, but just remember that five crosses in any category is the best possible score. This one goes out to my Uncle Bill. 

Building Aesthetics: t t t. There is something that draws me to the simplicity of A-frame architecture. It is an elegant solution for our human need for shelter. It was this design element that first made me take note of this particular church. Aesthetics and design matter. True people of God understand this. Another nice thing about this church is that it sits back away from the street. It seems appropriate that a church should have some room to breathe on its lot. The inside of First Christian is nicely designed. Pews are wood and have simple, clean lines. Some have removable cushions while others do not. Are those who are suffering drawn to the cusionless pews? Natural light is brought into the santuary through stained glass on either side of the sanctuary. I really liked the choice of pastel colors in the glass. It reminded me of the chakra colors from the hindu yoga traditions. As always, I dislike the choice to use carpet, in this case an autumnal orange/brown. It is dirty and superfluous. One other deisgn choice I didn't quite understand is that the backdrop of the alter has a false wall that separates the space from the stained glass wall shown in the bottom photo. It seems to me that a wall of light would be a nice backdrop for the alter.    

Truthful Eyes: t t t t. People here were nice and I enjoyed meeting congregants when made to do so during the service. After the service several people took the time to make more formal introductions and their motives in doing so seemed genuine. There wasn't a ton a diversity here, most congregants were older and white.   

Religious Time Management: t t t. The service today featured two baptisms and communion which played havoc on the religious time management. The baptisms were for two teens and were done in a fairly theatrical display. I'm not kidding when I say theatrical: curtains parted behind the alter to reveal the pastor and a spiritual dunk tank. Baptism is a tradition that I think has lost its way. This ceremony used to be practiced in natural bodies of water and symbolized the cleansing of sins and the reunion of man with nature. Now it's practiced as more of a precaution or obligation. Traditions that loose their spirit need to be rethought. What if everyone planted a tree to symbolize the beginning of their spiritual journey. One thing I did like about the baptism was that the curtain also revealed a portrait of Jesus. Being able to look at it for only a short time was powerful and a happy accident of the ceremony. There is power in that brief time that a curtain allows us to see something. A glimpse behind it like in The Wizard of Oz may be all some need to start making important connections.     

Poignancy of Sermon: t t t. The Pastor of this church hails from South Africa. I'm not aware of much of her story, but she seems to have an interesting one. The service today focused on a song and how the word "us" is sung in it. The message here was subtle: small things in life like whether we open up our mouths when we sing "us" matter. In the case of this song, not singing with an open mouth causes the word "us" to sound like hissing. 

Misinformation: t t t. I'm thinking a lot these days about what aspects of religious practice cause the majority of Americans to miss the point. A big one is the anthropomorphizing of God, closely related to a phenomenon some sociologists call Disneyfication. Seeing human attributes in non-human things can both help and hinder how we see the world. This creative storytelling technique started out harmless enough but has turned into a huge barrier to understanding. It leads us to believe that everything sees the world through the lens of human consciousness. In church today the pastor mentioned the idea that God sent his only son to earth. To me this rings much more false than true. Stories can lead us down strange roads if they don't evolve with the mass of men.       

Presence of God: t t t. For whatever reason, it is easier for me to see truth in suffering than in happiness. As Emily Dickinson said, "I like a look of agony because I know it's true." Several of the congregants wept during the service today and it reminded me how much people need faith to carry them through the dark times. Without faith in something, I'm not sure what pushes people through suffering. I also thought about the idea of worship today in church. There is something that isn't healthy about how many of us worship Jesus. It has alway felt unnatural to me to hold something up as beyond us. This thinking separates us. When I got home I looked up the word worship and  discovered that worship has its root in old English and used to mean acknowledgment of worth. I think acknowledging the worth of Christ is healthy. Worshiping Jesus in the traditional sense of the word is dangerous. In doing so we forget his humanity.    

Overall Inspiration (total score): t t t. I walked into this church today with no knowledge of this congregation or what distinguished them from other Protestant churches (ironically they branched off in order to encourage unity in the Christian church). The sermon was nuanced and I liked it's message. God danced in the pastor's words, but this subtlety perhaps fell short of some of the congregants. The most inspiration I got was in a conversation with one of the leaders of the church after the service. He is the Executive Director of an organization called Associated Ministries. Their mission is to bring different faiths together with a unified vision of building stronger communities. I'm always inspired by things that try to unite us. 

THE "HIDDEN" "ARTIST" COLONY OF SALMON BEACH

Salmon Beach is a somewhat "hidden" "artist" colony located just north of the Narrows Bridge in Tacoma. Google map it by clicking here. I say hidden because the road that leads to it is private and also because the community is at the bottom of a large embankment. Getting to it requires a quarter mile hike in and then navigating around 200 nearly vertical stairs. I say artist because it was the artistic spirit that originally created this unique living space. The community has 104 cabins, though some look more like mansions than cabins. Salmon Beach was started as a fishing camp back in 1914 and has evolved over the years into its present day permanency. It has survived depressions, tsunamis, mudslides, and earthquakes. Moonshine also flowed down here during prohibition. Today, artists and yuppies co-exist at Salmon Beach, though there seems to be some tension. Some of the cabins are reclaimed collections of eccentricities, while others look more like they were thrown up right out of the belly of suburbia.  

WHERE SCIENCE AND CREATIVITY COLLIDE

This is an almost perfect illustration for how my brain feels presently though in reverse (I feel my creativity colliding with science). For those of you who don't know, I'm currently in grad school at the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma working toward an MAT in teaching secondary English/Language Arts and Social Studies. I came across this illustration in an article entitled, Secrets of the Creative Brain by Nancy Andreasen. The article itself was fascinating, but this visual has stuck with me. It's such a complex piece that perfectly sums up what the 26 page article is all about. It is visual thinking in its highest form. It reminds me that some people can understand and process our world easier through reading a scholarly article, while others might be pushed toward a complex understanding just by looking at and evaluating this photograph.

"CAMPING" AND APOLOGIES FOR THE SPRUCE

To my dear blog followers who grow more and more incensed by each click that brings them to the all familiar, "world's largest spruce tree", I offer my sincerest apologies. I'd like to say that leaving that post up for the last few months was my clever way to emphasize just how long that tree has been growing on this planet, but alas, that thought just occurred to me.  Life has taken this writer/photographer down some interesting rabbit holes these past few months, and the epiphanies look like maturity and a new relationship with money (if the epiphanies hold). While the hiatus was lengthly, know that the key points of what transpired in that time will be discussed in future blog posts or an ebook. For now though, here is a post I began two months ago.

If you look closely at the picture above you will find that one party is actually camping, while the other has chosen to bring an air-conditioned house with them to the ocean. It's funny that both these activities are refered to as "camping". Marketing geniuses have expanded the definitions of words so we feel good about activities that might be bad for the earth or ourselves (another good example is "diet soda"). Surely everyone believes that "camping" is a good thing. Yes, tent camping is a good thing: it allows people to get outside and slow things down, to reconnect with nature. It is a spiritually positive event. RV camping involves expending tremendous resources to get that box from point A to point B. The carbon footprint is huge and chances are, the endless barrels of oil needed to move those things around aren't all coming from enlightened democratic countries. Whether people acknowledge it or not, these factors weigh on them. It's also hard to be rejuvenated by nature when you spend your time inside an air conditioned box watching TV. That's what the people shown above were doing when I snapped this picture. It was a sunny 70 degrees on this cliff overlooking the Pacific, and they were inside watching JAG reruns. I was in the tent next door trying to read Siddhartha, and the crashing waves were not quite loud enough to drown out their generator noise. My fragile zen calm quickly gave way to anger.    

WORLD'S LARGEST SPRUCE TREE

On the shores of Lake Quinault in western Washington sits the world's largest spruce tree. Julie and I, with the aid of several unconventional measuring tools, were in fact able to confirm its dimensions (though for the life of me I could only locate 921 AFA points). I suppose anything will grow well with the aid of twelve feet of annual rainfall. It occurred to me during our visit that planting the world's smallest spruce sapling next to this monster would offer a nice juxtaposition. If you squint , you might be able to make it out next to Julie's right foot.

ARTIST JEAN LEON GEROME

This is one other artist from the Legions of Honor that I took a shine to. Gerome was a 19th century French painter who specialized in Orientalism. His paintings seem to offer a level of social criticism as well (see unhappy white woman bathed by native). The amount of detail on the canvas was impressive as well as the three-diamensionality of the piece. You could almost taste the bathroom mold.

LEGIONS OF HONOR: FLEMISH SURREALISM

I've never been a fan of your average, run of the mill art museums. When I was younger I wasn't able to express just what it was about the vast majority of art that didn't sit well with me. As I got older and dug a little deeper into the absurdity that is the art world I understood what I hated: most art museums are just tools that rich people use to prop up their art investments. Real art, art painted with passion and blood, is rarely is seen in public galleries. Of course there are exceptions, artists like Van Gogh, who became known in spite of collectors, but most of the time I leave galleries feeling uninspired. Most of the art hanging in the Legions of Honor in San Francisco was lackluster, but the Flemish painters of the 1500s were something special. I could stare at these paintings all day. I'm still trying to figure out just what's behind Jesus' expression in the last picture. The best I could come up with: "Really, I'm dying for these assholes sins?" I also love how all the artists above use soulless anxiety-ridden eyes to capture the evil that is the mass of men. They are hauntingly beautiful, unique, and worth the price of admission (we used our college IDs).  

FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT'S MARIN COUNTY CIVIC CENTER

The Marin County Civic Center in San Rafael, California was Frank Lloyd Wright's last commission before his death at age 92. It occurred to me while walking around it the other day just how fine the line is between genius and crap. The building's materials would be a gaudy Vegas hotel in lesser hands, the same way any Kubrick film is a breath away from being an unwatchable disaster. Originally Wright picked gold for the color of the roof, but it was determined after his death that the color wouldn't hold up to the California sun. His widow Olgivanna chose blue instead, a nice choice that I dare say improved the design. Even at the end of his career, Wright was still a controversial choice as architect and was continually challenged by unhappy board members. Now the building is a proposed UNESCO world heritage site.  

HOUSES FLOATING IN SAUSALITO

It really doesn't get any better than literally living on the water. Not only is it relaxing and aesthetically beautiful, it also prepares you for the worst case scenario of global warming, or if you're a bit more paranoid, end of times flooding. Granted, a floating home is no arc, but you would be surprised how much propane and spaghettiOs you could tuck away in one. Monthly slip fees to moor your house in the ideal California climate of Sausalito start at $1500.00 a month, and the smallest houses (around 600 square feet) sell for around half a million bucks. Considering those prices, I really felt that the wildlife in the area were freeloaders. If seals want to lie on these folks docks all day, they should pay them something, even if it's just some regurgitated fish.

BACKPACKING TO THE BOTTOM OF THE GRAND CANYON

Here's a good recipe for walking like a geriatric for a week: Hike 7 miles down into the Grand Canyon with a backpack full of stuff, sleep, then hike 7 miles out the next morning. The North Kaibab trail decends 4255 feet from the north rim visitor center in a series of never-ending switchbacks that eventually lead to the Cottonwood Campground. Once at the bottom, hikers are met by a wall of heat with temperatures hovering right around 100 degrees. We found respite in the nearby Bright Angel Creek that ran fresh snow-melt from the nearby mountains. The irony of a creek in the scorching desert that was uncomfortably cold to swim in was not lost on me. The bottom of the canyon is a lonely place, and spending time there you can't help but feel like an unwelcome guest.  The campsite had only 11 spots that are booked years in advance by swarms of bucket-list wielding 50 somethings. We lucked out and got a last minute cancellation pass even without a detailed life wish list. All in all we packed well for a spontaneous backpacking expedition. Julie did however carry a large cucumber down and back up that we never even considered eating. 

REPURPOSING A GRANDMOTHER CLOCK

This grandmother clock is my most recent repurposing project. I started thinking about the idea of worshipping time and it occurred to me that we might be better served by worshipping books and religions that help us live in the present moment. I found this solid walnut clock for $25 on Craigslist, and spent another $50 or so on walnut shelves, stain, and an IKEA light. The hardest part of the project was gutting the clock compartment as the original German builder used glue to attach the internal joists. Grandmother clocks are typically shorter than grandfather clocks and also have a tendency to live longer and use coupons at fast food restaurants. 

FIRST UNITARIAN SOCIETY OF DENVER

I started doing church reviews like the one that follows because everyone that I've met in Colorado thinks that Colorado Springs is full of religious zealots. I was curious if the churches here lived up to their reputations, so I decided to sit in and review as many as I could. The cross scoring system is a bit confusing, but just remember that five crosses in any category is the best possible score. 

Building Aesthetics: t t t. Real buildings, like real men, are made of stone. First Unitarian is a grand castle-like building without the moat. Then you go inside. The inside doesn't feel like the outside. To me there should be continuity. The sanctuary feels ephemeral. Carpet is a bad choice in any situation, but especially in commercial endeavors. The beige carpet was full of stains from what my imagination suspected was from incontinent members or the blessing of the pets service. I always prefer a pew to a chair in a church setting. Churches invented the whole pew seating arrangement, and when I go, I want to sit in one. They help build that feeling of community, and the wood helps to warm the sanctuary. I did like the simple "Frank Lloyd Wright-esque" stained glass windows. They supplied a sufficient amount of light from the outside world. The focal point of the lectern was the organ, and if an alien were to attend service here, he might suspect that Unitarians actually worship this instrument.

Creepy Glazed Eyes: t t t t. Unitarian churches in Colorado seem to be havens for rag-tag groups of Caucasians. This service was attended by just about every variety of white person under the sun: young, old, gay, blind, and those wearing oversized shoulder pads. People seemed thoughtful and kind though didn't radiate happiness or inner peace. 

Hassled by Members: t t t t. Not one hassle here. No one made me stand up, greet my neighbor, or offered to exorcise my demons. It might have even aired on the side of too little community. Nobody tried to talk to Julie or I other than the Revered saying a brief "hello" as we exited. I appreciated that no one bothered me as I took photos of the sanctuary, but what a missed opportunity for small talk, something like, "nice camera...what the hell are you doing?" I also noted again today that knitters seem to think it's appropriate to practice their craft in any given situation, including during a church service. You'll never find a welder with such audacity.    

Religious Time Management: t t t. The Reverend Mike Morran seemed like a thoughtful man, but struggled to find a good balance between conviction and humility. Today was Easter Sunday, so the service was peppered with jabs at other "less enlightened" forms of Christianity. I'd rather the Unitarians rise above this and stick to their usually self-deprecating humor like this classic: Why did the Unitarian cross the road? To support the chicken in its search for its own path. This service even had a communion-like ceremony where the congregation came up to receive jellybeans. Again, this seemed like a jab at Catholicism and their "silly traditions", and I ate my jellybean with some remorse. The service did have a good flow, though I think a prayer begs for brevity, and selfishly, today's prayer was like a mini-sermon. A long prayer is like calling God during dinner to ask if he is happy with his car insurance, mistaking his kindness for interest, and proceeding to deliver your entire rehearsed spiel to his deaf ears.  

Misinformation: t t t t. Unitarians are usually pretty good about keeping their facts straight, and today's service was no exception. The Reverend did however have a joke that bombed. He was talking about what was going on in Jesus' head as he was being crucified and proceeded to imitate his pose on the cross and quipped, "ok, get on with it!" Silence. It would be tough for a room full of Saturday Night Live writers to make that sketch work.  Two rules of comedy: never follow kids, and never mimic Jesus on the cross. 

Presence of God: t t t. I do feel that a proper God would have a soft spot in his heart for the Unitarians. They are good, thoughtful people who care deeply about their spirituality. If God were doing the rounds here I think he might just peak his head in the door, give an approving nod, and move on. He would know that the people inside are in good hands, but not feel any desire to sit through the service. And that's the feeling I took away: I wasn't surrounded by God's presence, but this place was clearly on his radar. I was moved during an a cappella version of "The Flower Duet" (Sous le dome epais) sung by a blind girl. It was beautiful, and I think God came back for it. 

Overall Inspiration (total score): t t t. I didn't grow spiritually, but I didn't shrink either. In any given week, we shrink more than we realize, so I was happy to remain spiritually neutral. I did like a few of the Revered's points, for instance, that Jesus wouldn't recognize modern Christianity and that you know you've created God in your own image when he hates the same people as you do.  

CHRIST IN THE DESERT MONASTERY

Christ in the Desert Monastery is located approximately 13 miles from nowhere in the desert mountains of northern New Mexico. We found ourselves camping down the road and ended up stumbling into a Sunday service. It's pretty surreal to walk in on 40 monks who sing the entire service. There are two main jobs for monks at this monastery: thinking about god and brewing beer, hopefully in that order. The beer they brew is bottled under the Monks' Ale label, and is crafted in what they claim is a 1400 year old monastic brewing tradition. I thought it might be nice to spice up communion with a little "blood of Christ" brew, but alas, the ruts of tradition run deep in Catholicism.

SAINTS AND SINNERS LIQUOR: ESPANOLA, NEW MEXICO

I'm told that the owner of this liquor store has been offered tens of thousands of dollars for his sign by swarms of wealthy, loft owning New Yorkers, and has turned them all down. He won't sell the sign, but he will slap the logo on shirts, hats, flasks, and even underwear. The sign is just one more example of the handmadeness of things that we have lost in this country. A guy somewhere in Espanola built this sign, and did so with equal parts creativity and skill. It has become a well known landmark in a way that a chinese-made Chili's sign never will.

GRANT SABIN AT FRONT RANGE BBQ

Grant Sabin is a great musician to see for free at a BBQ joint. He does this unusual thing where he plays with passion and soul. His music is a type of Mississippi house blues made popular by the likes of RL Burnside and Junior Kimbrough, who are both on the Fat Possum label. Sabin is on a local label called Blank Tape Records. I figured if I mentioned multiple record labels that readers would assume I knew what I was talking about. As a side note, it occurred to me last night that almost all of my favorite musicians, myself included, tend to play sitting down. There is something about stomping your feet in the seated position that coaxes forth the music demons.