thoughts on seeing Jenny Holzer's Protect Protect

Protect me from what I want
All things are delicately interconnected
Ambition is just as dangerous as complacency

Silhouettes bask in the glow of these truths, lost in the challenges they present.

Being alone with yourself is increasingly unpopular
Being judgmental is a sign of life
Being sure of yourself makes you a fool
Chasing the new is dangerous to society
A charismatic leader is imperative
Life itself is not sacred
Romantic love was created to manipulate women
Spending too much time on self-improvement is anti-social
The most profound things are inexpressible
You are victim of the rules you live by
You have to hurt others to be extraordinary
A strong sense of duty imprisons you

The repetition of these words, the flashing stimulating the brain, bathing we here in the room in an other-worldly glow, our faces immobile yet ever-changing. We are transformed by the mere presence of these words - we need not read or believe them to change.

Emotional responses are as important as intellectual ones
Expiring for love is beautiful but stupid
If you can't leave your mark, give up
It's better to be lonely than to be with inferior people

The power of the word transforms all it touches - even when the words lose their meaning, what remains still has power. These flashing words stimulate, making couples want to express their love for one another, even when those words speak of the horror of rape. But for those of us with no outlet, we are left to scribble on the page.

Planning for the future is escapism
Sin is a means of social control

These words like rivers flowing, ever changing, their motion toward an unseen sea. If I step within them, they change and shift yet still remain the same. I no longer see the words but only their motion, the river but not the water.

This is what I imagine my unconscious looks like, a constant, unstoppable scroll of thoughts, desires, secrets, memories. But I lack the courage to display it to the world.

I am more moved by these phrases than the reality of what has happened in Iraq. Does this make me calloused? Or do I come to be challenged in a different way here? Everyday bureaucracy blown up larger than life makes me sad but does not change me. While it may be "the truth" about what has happened, it lacks the quality of Truth. Perhaps its that I do not need (want?) to be reminded how horrible war is for it seems obvious enough to anyone with a heart.
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the power of dynamic planning

So this morning, while wandering aimlessly around Chestnut Hill, I received a phone call from my friend Lauri. Lauri, who has been pestering me to come and visit for a couple of years now. Lauri who planted the seed for this wonderful spring break excursion in my head. Lauri who was kind enough to open up her couch for me to crash upon while I was traveling. Lauri who found out this morning that she needs to have her gall bladder removed. Today. So. Plans shift and change. I won't get to see her, but will still head to Jersey and do the park-n-ride thing. Much cheaper than trying to park in NYC. And not like I'll need my car once I get there anyway. Anne is kind enough to let me crash with her for a couple of extra nights. Good to have friends as flexible as you.

Today has been quite relaxing, which is the point of vacation after all. Did a bit of walking, a bit of eating, a bit of shopping. Brad's seminary's bookstore is going out of business and their books were on sale. Picked up The Emergent Manifesto and a Willimon book for $8.25. Brilliant. Am now chilling on the couch, waiting for Brad to return from dropping off the boys and Sarah to return from work. No idea what is planned for the evening, but will be good to relax with good friends.

So imagine this: you've woken up early in the morning and driven through the beauty of Amish country to avoid the toll roads, only to realize the estimated time given by Googlemaps is about 45 minutes off. You eventually arrive at your destination, only to determine the only parking is metered parking and it's seven minutes for every quarter. So you drop as much change as you have and walk through the pouring rain to meet your friend. It goes well as you catch up over the past 20 years and realize you're both still much the same as you were in high school, at least the essential parts of you. Older, but the connection is still there. You're both a little annoyed at having to leave every half an hour to feed the meter, but it makes the afternoon more memorable. You even throw caution to the wind and walk down to see the Liberty Bell - you see it, but don't have the time to gawk at all the history posted on screens down the hall. Some other day. By the time you say your goodbyes, the rain has abated and you smile and hope it doesn't take another 20 years to catch up again. And then you go your separate ways.

Now it's later, and you make it to Sarah and Brad's house just in time to head over to their Easter Vigil service where their son is being baptised. In the hustle and bustle of greetings, you forget one thing - you drank an awful lot at the coffee house where you met you friend Gabe and haven't used the restroom. And you don't remember until the priest has lit the Paschal candle from the flames and you make your pilgrimmage into the building for the reading of the lessons. For those unfamiliar with the Easter Vigil, it's a celebration of the way God has worked in the lives of His people throughout the Old Testament, the salvation stories from creation through the prophets and beyond in a series of twelve readings, usually followed by a song and a time of reflection for each one. They normally last about three hours. So by the time the Israelites have walked through the Red Sea on dry land (the third reading), my eyeballs are floating. But there's no way to get to the bathroom from where I am, so I focus on the readings and hope it all goes well. I'm fine until we march into the sanctuary for the baptismal. There, the minister says these words:

Holy God, holy and merciful, holy and mighty,
you are the river of life,
you are the everlasting wellspring,
you are the fire of rebirth.
Glory to you for oceans and lakes, for rivers and streams.
Honor to you for cloud and rain, for dew and snow.
Your waters are below us, around us, above us: our life is born in you.
You are the fountain of resurrection.
Praise to you for your saving waters:
Noah and the animals survive the flood,
Hagar discovers your well.
The Israelites escape through the sea,
and they drink from your gushing rock.
Naaman washes his leprosy away,
and the Samaritan woman will never be thirsty again.
At this font, Holy God, we pray:
Praise to you for the water of baptism and for your Word that saves us in this water.

To make matters worse, the entire time he says these words, he is pouring water from a pitcher into the baptismal font...very...very...slowly. I had to bow my head and fake an emotional response to keep from laughing out loud and having my own private baptism right there. Miraculously, I made it through and over to the bathroom without embarrassing myself or my friends.

My urination distraction aside, 'twas a lovely service - those gathered laughed at the lighter side of each of the stories and the variety of readers definitely added to the enjoyment. I highly recommend attending one if you haven't before. Put it on your calendar now.

More thoughts later, perhaps. Been an excellent trip so far - exactly the refreshment I needed. Here's hoping for more of the same.
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drive by posting

Great Easter weekend here in Philly. The Easter Bunny even found me and brought me a basket, first time in 25 years. The house is empty and I have much to write about, but I need to get out and about. Hopefully I'll find a spot here in Chestnut Hill to throw some words on the screen about the trip so far. First order of business, however, is find somewhere serving breakfast. Mmmmm. I did a quick google search, but think I'm simply going to walk and see what catches my eye. It's part of the adventure.

More later.
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