Spicy Lives

Generally, when I hear people talk 'variety' they're not very far from adding, "is the spice of life!" Indeed, it is, but just how many spices are there?

To my discredit, I just began dabbling in the arts of the kitchen, not always very well, but I have made a few tasty things, I think, although, note to self: never make family pumpkin-flavored things because they do not like pumpkin.

It's just that lately life keeps surprising me with its variety.

The other day I asked one of my students if she remembered my name, and she answered, "Of course not!" as if I needed a more definite way of saying 'no'. Then this weather- could the clouds dump any more on my icebox-where-my-heart-used-to-be-oh-OH! And this is the variety in my life, not even the variety of the lives I am privileged to interact with and I have been trying to be a part of a few more lives than I'm used to.

This isn't going to be about a post about how to get more empathy, or how to stop being boring, or five easy steps to do something in a more awesome way. No, right now, all I'm talking about is the very beginning: notice, watch, observe because that's all it takes to see variety. Even in 'cookie cutter' homes, like townhouses, maybe right down your street, have you ever really looked in those homes? Now, don't, like, you know, creep on the families, but think of it this way: it's hard to tell apart one bear from another, but it's pretty easy to tell apart one person from another, even with twins, Doppelgangers, and wannabes, everyone is different. And all those differences live in, generally, the same communities, or at least on the same planet.

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really merely commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the planning, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chain of events, working through generations and leading to the most outer results, it would make fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable. -Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes: A Case of Identity

How many spices are there? I don't know, but let me tell you, apparently salt is not one of them and if salt is not one of them, goodGod, I haven't even grazed the surface of the variety of Life- these lives I am privileged to interact with.

I can't wait to dig deeper.

See, snow days can be good for something.

Effected by Immortality.

ear candy: Snow Patrol's Eyes Open

What's the difference between me as creation and what I create? That is to say, what's the difference between me as created by God, and the things created by me? How is it that I as the creation am, cannot, be greater than the creator, God; but that I must create something greater than myself in order to achieve timelessness? Why are my creations greater than me? Why can God do what he wants with me--no, wait. Let me reword that.

...did God, in some way, make his creation greater than him? And I don't mean to say that having the option to choose evil makes us greater; nor do I mean to say that choosing good makes us greater. What is 'choosing good' compared to 'being good'? There's no Amber Spyglass here.

Perhaps my creations are greater than me because they reflect (or ought to reflect) the eternal things. Like...like love, joy, contentment; peace. God is all these things, which is why L'Engle 'sees God' in every piece, not because it is godly, or because it has missionary intentions to share the gospel, but because every immortal thing will point to the Immortal. Just as every mortal thing will never be remembered--mortal things point to nothing because they've not the strength to point. Besides, God will use any manner to reveal himself to his creation. 

We will use any manner to reveal ourselves to others: words or actions; ethical or unethical.

He creates through us, in the same way we might be inspired by heroes who we hope to invoke (either literally or metaphorically) because I am never the one who truly does the work for I always have someone to thank; someone to whom I owe my allegiance, and in effect, my respect--any artist in any field will tell you that. Whatever work we think is 'as great as us' stays within our time, never to ascend with proceeding generations. But at the same time, any art that we know is beyond ourselves may not last (such is the consequence of critics or lack of funds); so, when we diminish art as cheesy, obnoxious, poor, stale...ugly, even, we have no idea what will truly last. I'm sure that there are many artists who wanted certain pieces to achieve fame only to have other pieces they think inconsequential become immortal. Mona Lisa, anyone?

Hmm. We create, hoping our creations will outlive us, not even knowing whether or not our creations want to be immortal.

God creates knowing that each of us want to be immortal, not always physically, no, but to leave enough of a mark to affect at least one person. Positively affect one person--we don't like evil, no matter how much we glamorize it. 

Perhaps God allows our creations to extend beyond us to give us a taste of what he tastes when he creates. Our creations, however, when they outrun us, aren't always Frankenstein's monster: God at least named the first man and even allowed the first man, Adam, to name the rest of creation. ...hell, we are not all Dr. Frankenstein's!- we sometimes love our creations to the point of protective insanity.

But if we as impotent artists (who do very badly want to give, or add life, but cannot do so without giving a little of ourselves) can cause the world's heart to palpitate with our voices, our discoveries, how much more should God affect the world with his potency? With his son's resurrected life?

The mortal creates immortality.

The Immortal wants us to conceive immortality, even only a slice of it, not to take immortality, but to know that it can be given.

We make things greater than ourselves to recognize the greatness that surrounds us, if only we would recognize that greatness as God. We won't be 'better' for it, if that's what you're looking for, but I guarantee you will certainly fuller. 

Any religious, irreligious, or non-religious person will tell you that from whomever or wherever our morality and desires sprout we want to be affected by the immortal. 

We want to touch the stars or topple them.

But science doesn't pick sides. Math doesn't pick sides. Philosophy doesn't pick sides. Language doesn't pick sides. History doesn't pick sides. Music doesn't pick sides. Nature doesn't pick sides. Great, immortal things don't pick sides; though they allow themselves to be twisted into 'picking' by tiny, mortal arms.

The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood. John 7.18 (ESV)