Lately I have filled my alone eating moments with the viewing of Hulu television. Bizarre and stereotypically American as it sounds, I have found eating alone and watching some of the latest media presentations and franchise brainwashing to be quite complimentary. What’s more, I carefully select the programs that I watch. Aside from the dark, obnoxiously giddy drama of Glee that somehow (for a whole season!) captured me, I tend to prefer the Horror and Suspense channel.
The rationale is quite simple: mysteries make me think, and that is where Hulu keeps them. Blunt, I know, but true. And the better the mystery and the harder it is to solve, the more I enjoy it. And though there is a sort of camaraderie I share with the problem-laden Detective Monk, I ultimately enjoy Psych as a show more because I have a harder time solving its mysteries before the end of each episode.
As of late, however, I have not watched either of these shows. Instead, I have become addicted to Night Stalker. True, the writing is about as dramatic as the title, and the acting frequently fails to suppress its heavy-handed tendencies. Yet I cannot stop watching a new episode every time I find myself eating alone.
Carl Kolchak, a man deeply troubled by a past tragedy, plunges ever deeper into solving strange mysteries occurring across the city of L.A. Mysteries he suspects to be connected with his own misfortune. He is also a journalist for a fictional L.A. newspaper, working in the homicide department, a job that often provides Kolchak with tips, access and other (almost positively fictional) amenities he would otherwise be without.
If the mental disabilities of Detective Monk cause me to feel empathy and comraderie with such a character, than I feel an ever-greater connection with Kolchak. Though a successful topic for suspense television, dark and mysterious pasts are not for fiction alone. The shadows of the night, along with human wondering as to the meanings of nightmares, and perplexion with the unknown, all for me are realities. Though some would scoff and classify such things as pure fiction, I am without doubt that we live in relation to more than what we choose to see.
That is about as far as Night Stalker is capable of taking the conversation, but for me, the conversation runs much deeper. In the times of silence and simplicity, when humans lived in an almost inseparable relation with nature, there was still sin and great abuse towards creation, but it was within the boundary of acknowledgment towards this relationship. Kolchak looks at the night, and he sees a veil covering evil. Then he turns his face towards humanity and sees a tirelessly moving, completely ignorant populous, unwarned of the dangers they walk amidst nightly.
He seems rash to me. Though if I were continually subjected to the berating, and after episode one, entirely unfounded, skepticism of coworker Perri Reed, I might also become overly cynical of the masses. But then I daily interact with Reformed Christians (whatever that means), and they refuse to acknowledge the works of their Holy Spirit, let alone discourse about more-to-life-than-meets-the-eye (thank you, Obenchain).
I would like to meet the writer for Night Stalker, though the concept was originally based on a modern day tale of Dracula, the screenwriter for the 2005 television series seemed to desire taking the tale deeper than the basic man versus monster arch plot. What does that writer know of evil? He seems at first slightly juvenile in associating evil with shadow, though this is a common human flaw.
I mentioned only very recently that though an adult, I continue to struggle with a fear of the dark (incited when alone in such conditions). This fear I will refer to as pack separation anxiety. We, as humans, now reign above the animal food chain, and yet we still carry with us a very primitive fear (though more a reflex than a fear)—that if we are separated from the pack, we will be consumed. But what consumes that which nothing in the animal kingdom seems to be above?
In an even earlier entry, I discussed how we, as humans, differ from all other species within the animal kingdom because we alone have the ability to comprehend the metaphysical. We are, what some might label, “spiritually” enlightened. During the day, we can see, and though we still manage at times to cause ourselves anxiety, generally feel more comfortable with lighted environments. At least in the light we can see and defend ourselves against whatever might challenge our safety. At night, however, we are reminded that there are things we cannot see, things that might still prowl and prey upon us. We, without light, are without strong defense. Heavy reliance is placed upon that which is visible for security.
Such a concept begs the question “is there something invisible (or at least hidden in shadow) worth fearing?”
Perhaps.
I strongly believe in more than what I can see. Though I should not fear, I do. The only concept that now soothes my fear of that which I cannot see is that God has created it. Perhaps one day something dark and lurking will prey upon me, and even destroy me. But the beauty of faith in God is the knowledge that all will one day be justified. Some “Christians” would like to believe that evil will one day be destroyed. Such thinking brought great comfort to our predecessors, and if such thinking brings comfort to “Christians” today, it is better they think in such a manner then suddenly be terrified of evil triumphing.
Evil will not triumph. It will be justified and used for good. This is the unseen result at the end of all times. The worst of everything will be justified.
So Kolchak kills darkness (evil), while I believe that God will one day make darkness (evil) a servant to humanity. Perhaps one day we will soar upon its back, clutch its feathers as it flies through the sky, chasing the sun. Perhaps one day the steed of darkness will carry us like the saddle-less Shadowfax, and together we will explore the depths of the caves of eternity.
Until then I wonder if there is a battle to fight. There are certain whispers in the darkness, movements in the shadows. My question is what part to play in this movement. For now I will focus on the welfare of humankind, but I will never forget what I know. There is more to this world than meets the eye, and it is with us everyday.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Scorpions and Snakes?
The fear of the darkness has long been a part of my life, though the concept should not simply feature the phrase "a part," but the word "apart." For my fear derives not just from a lack of light, but one's person being stuck in such an environment alone. To this day, I am terrified of being apart from people, tortured by the concept of a companionless life.
In the midst of a difficult decision which I took upon at the beginning of the summer, I simultaneously felt compelled to flee from a number of relationships. I was never forced away; I retreated, for the quality of those relationships, though good, was not satisfying. It is strange to feel alone in a room of people, and I daresay I would never wish it upon someone else.
The worst of nightmares lived out comes in the form of fleeting companionship. And recently, it has existed in great quantity for me.
My largest complication arose from the quest itself. For, with the retreat from the old, came a search for the new. And yet, perhaps I moved too quickly. Great momentum carried me onward, and though at times I desired to stay, it seemed impossible to do anything save to always keep moving.
Perhaps one day I will find myself traveling at slower speeds, more manageable for escape. But John Mayer is definitely mistaken, this train should stop--or at least slow down. When the speed is too fast, one soon finds himself alone, for no one else can join the journey. I travel alone, but it is not how I wish it to be.
Some friends I have never left. Instead, they have left me. Over this season of searching, the concept of "relationship" has arisen in many forms, and in many guises. Some were what my culture calls one-way; others seasonal; and still others ,what my teacher refers to as practice.
Yet, even now, I am struck by an epiphany. Perhaps I am unsatisfied because I search not just for any friend, but friends who are wise, and share their wisdom in abundance. It is true that being around anyone can help keep my fears at bay. But what would I be if I never searched to put more meaning in my life? Only George Gray knows, his whispered warnings wafting over the cemeteries of Spoon River. I need relationships that will make me better, but not so much out of a bending to pressure, but rather from mild encouragement and beneficent wisdom.
One prominent example is immediately in my mind. In my blundering quest I stumbled upon some of the greatest people with whom I have ever had the pleasure of sharing a moment. The venue most consistently is a house just south of my own, and only a very short walking distance away. Somehow, it is like the hidden garden behind the wall. Something of greatness preserved, and I have only now found it with the luck of a child's curiosity. That is where I have seen healthy friendship, strong and prosperous in its existence, and overflowing in its love. When I am around the people who congregate and live there, these are the fleeting moments when I am filled with thankfulness and satisfaction.
Every day I ask God for many things, but most of all I ask for wisdom. And lo, the living God provides. I ask for meaningful friendships, and there are some literally around the corner. It is strange the places we are given the answers to our prayers, but it is not strange that we are given answers, and beyond answers, what we need and when we most need it. The living God is one that cannot be untangled from daily affairs. There is no reason not to ask for what we need, and there is no reason to expect that we will be given anything less.
"'For everyone who asks, receives; and he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, it will be opened. Now suppose one of you fathers is asked by his son for a fish; he will not give his son a snake instead? Or if he is asked for an egg, will not give him a scorpion, will he?'"
-Jesus, Luke 11:10-12
In the midst of a difficult decision which I took upon at the beginning of the summer, I simultaneously felt compelled to flee from a number of relationships. I was never forced away; I retreated, for the quality of those relationships, though good, was not satisfying. It is strange to feel alone in a room of people, and I daresay I would never wish it upon someone else.
The worst of nightmares lived out comes in the form of fleeting companionship. And recently, it has existed in great quantity for me.
My largest complication arose from the quest itself. For, with the retreat from the old, came a search for the new. And yet, perhaps I moved too quickly. Great momentum carried me onward, and though at times I desired to stay, it seemed impossible to do anything save to always keep moving.
Perhaps one day I will find myself traveling at slower speeds, more manageable for escape. But John Mayer is definitely mistaken, this train should stop--or at least slow down. When the speed is too fast, one soon finds himself alone, for no one else can join the journey. I travel alone, but it is not how I wish it to be.
Some friends I have never left. Instead, they have left me. Over this season of searching, the concept of "relationship" has arisen in many forms, and in many guises. Some were what my culture calls one-way; others seasonal; and still others ,what my teacher refers to as practice.
Yet, even now, I am struck by an epiphany. Perhaps I am unsatisfied because I search not just for any friend, but friends who are wise, and share their wisdom in abundance. It is true that being around anyone can help keep my fears at bay. But what would I be if I never searched to put more meaning in my life? Only George Gray knows, his whispered warnings wafting over the cemeteries of Spoon River. I need relationships that will make me better, but not so much out of a bending to pressure, but rather from mild encouragement and beneficent wisdom.
One prominent example is immediately in my mind. In my blundering quest I stumbled upon some of the greatest people with whom I have ever had the pleasure of sharing a moment. The venue most consistently is a house just south of my own, and only a very short walking distance away. Somehow, it is like the hidden garden behind the wall. Something of greatness preserved, and I have only now found it with the luck of a child's curiosity. That is where I have seen healthy friendship, strong and prosperous in its existence, and overflowing in its love. When I am around the people who congregate and live there, these are the fleeting moments when I am filled with thankfulness and satisfaction.
Every day I ask God for many things, but most of all I ask for wisdom. And lo, the living God provides. I ask for meaningful friendships, and there are some literally around the corner. It is strange the places we are given the answers to our prayers, but it is not strange that we are given answers, and beyond answers, what we need and when we most need it. The living God is one that cannot be untangled from daily affairs. There is no reason not to ask for what we need, and there is no reason to expect that we will be given anything less.
"'For everyone who asks, receives; and he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, it will be opened. Now suppose one of you fathers is asked by his son for a fish; he will not give his son a snake instead? Or if he is asked for an egg, will not give him a scorpion, will he?'"
-Jesus, Luke 11:10-12
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