On the Answer

I asked Joel to name the subject of today’s contemplation.  He gave this a moment’s reflection and responded, “The answer.”   After a pause—he has been reading Douglas Adams’ work lately—he then added, “to life, the universe, and everything.”  However, since I am non-omniscient, I decided to stick with the first part of his suggestion. 

Even “the answer” remains a challenging topic, though, with many possible angles of contemplation.  I considered discussing “the answer” by exploring epistemology (the study of how we metaphysically know the answer), cognitive theory (the science of how we biologically remember or generate the answer), objective vs. subjective questions or absolute vs. relative truths (which each affect one’s answer and perceptions of the answer), and 42 (which The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy claims is The Answer).  I decided right away to ignore most of these “high-falutin’”  topics lest readers fall asleep; I don’t want to be responsible for any head injuries incurred from readers face-planting their keyboards or desk edges.  (Though, reportedly, faces have already been at risk after certain of my previous posts.  I do apologize, and I know a good nurse if you need one.)  

I then considered proposing questions and discussing the answer or possible answers, such as personal questions posed by over-inquisitive children or mathematics questions.  As an example of the former option, I’ve thrice heard the question, “Why does your face have spots?”  The unvocalized answer (as anime veins pop out on the adult’s forehead despite her smile) may be, “They’re called zits, dear.  The disease is quite catching, but you needn’t worry right away —they will show up on your face (Lord willing) when you’re in your teens.”  Yet, that’s merely a possible answer—not necessarily the answer.  As for the latter idea, I’d rather not discuss answers to math questions, nor deal with the tricky joke answers such as “one plus one equals eleven.”

Following these thoughts, I considered discussing the names we answer to or the people we answer to.  Alas, those topics fit the word “answer,” but not the phrase “the answer,” as the determiner implies one, specific answer and indicates that answer is a noun rather than a verb.   Very well.  If I insist on being technical, I suppose I could just discuss the answer for Joel’s suggestion, which I now have.  It may not be the answer, either, but it’s my answer, and I’ve already written the length of a decent blog entry, so I’ll just dam up this stream of consciousness here and let it puddle out for you to wade in however long you’d like.

On Ghost Leg

     Sometimes in manga, I'd see characters use an unfamiliar "Ladder Game" (a.k.a. "Ghost Leg" or "Amidakuji") to make decisions or assign tasks.  I couldn't figure out how it worked, so I looked it up on Wikipedia.  I will here demonstrate how it works and leave you to contemplate the interesting logic of why it works:

      One may play Ghost Leg to randomly assign people to chores in a household, roles in a play, or slots in a schedule--usually when the number of people equal the number of items.  Alternately, one can play Ghost Leg solo to randomly decide between several options, such as what ice cream flavor to eat, place to visit, or gift to give.
      Either way, the creator starts by drawing vertical lines equal to the number of participants and/or options, then by writing in the options below each line.  In an equal participants-to-options game, the creator may then either assign the top lines to participants or let them chose their lines; in a solo game, the player will later choose one top line at random. 

Fig. 1

       To finish preparing the game, the creator then draws random horizontal lines called "legs" between pairs of vertical lines (see Fig. 1).  Alternately, the creator may let each participant draw one leg.  I'll note that I've seen cosmetic variations of this game wherein some legs are diagonal or have curly-cues in the middle, which do not affect how the game is played.
      Finally, each player traces a path from the top of their chosen vertical line to the bottom, following each leg that their pencil meets to its linked vertical line, always continuing down to the bottom, thus pairing each starting item at the top with an ending item at the bottom (see Fig. 2).

Fig. 2

      No matter how many legs one adds, this game will always result in a 1:1 ratio; all top and bottom items will be paired without overlaps.  Fascinating, eh?  The game is also simple to make and play.  I think I may use this game in the future in place of "Eenie Meenie Miney Mo."  :)

On Poetry

       For a while I've had this concept for a book of poems . . .

       But here I must digress, for  certainly a good number of readers will think "Poems?  Who wants to read poems these days?  It's all about manga and vampire novels!"
       Yes, perhaps poetry has passed its heyday, despite the admirable efforts in the past few decades of the likes of Hallmark, Maya Angelou, Shel Silverstein, and Billy Collins.  Most average readers (I refer to you and me) gained negative connotations of poetry from the of long, dull epics we were made to read in school.  Sure, we learned to appreciate Homer or Chaucer or Spencer or Milton or Shakespeare.  However, when one must spend so much time deciphering the meaning of archaic words and obscure references, we feel rather disinclined to read such stuff for pleasure.  The enjoyment of such is (surely) reserved for the literati who think themselves so above the common working class person, and the creation of the same is (surely) a vanity of the idle elite.
     If we have not this perception, the term "poetry" may evoke wariness such as we feel toward the disturbing, gothic works of poets like Poe and Lovecraft, or the "avante guarde" oddities newer poets dish up ("newer" including e.e. cummings up to current high school poets) written in free verse or unpunctuated, seeming-nonsense that may convey an impressionistic scene, a confused kaleidoscope image, or a random collage.  Other readers view modern poetry as stuck-up prose--narration or description separated onto lines in imitation poetry that really . . . isn't.  (Surely it doesn't qualify.  Right?  I mean, we can deal with no rhyming, but description without rhythm?  "Poetry"?  Really?  Tch!)
      So what I meant to ponder was who would want to buy--let alone read--another book on (ugh!) poetry?  I fear I have no defense for poetry but my own interest (vanity?); modern poetry can still "teach and delight."  Its incarnations may encompass light reading for an evening's amusement or deeper reading for a morning meditation or encouragement for the rainy days in our hearts.  (Do we not still read Psalms on such occasions?)  Personal taste will dictate our preferred forms and subjects and--well, whether we read poems at all.  But let not prejudice blind our eyes and deafen our ears to poetry, and we may one day find a poem that knocks on the door of our heart (or funny bone, depending). 

      As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, I had this concept for a book of poems, tentatively titled Expressing Existence: Poems about Life and Emotions.  My idea was to have as many emotions as possible written up in poems--sonnets, odes, villanelles, ballads, limericks, haiku, acrostics, free verse--whatever seems to fit a given emotion.  While expressing an emotion, they would also express an aspect of life often associated with that emotion.  I've included a few of the completed ones below (vanity!).  Would people care for such as these?  I wonder.


Life    (A haiku to possibly preface said volume.)

Come shade, sun, or storm,

We alone choose grin or groan.

Can weather force us?

Grief  (Free verse)

A blithe approach

A bloody pool

A familiar furry shape.

Shock.

Incredulity.

Then, in quick succession,

Doubt followed by pain,

Pain followed by rage,

Rage followed by shame,

Shame followed by loneliness,

And tears.

Many tears.

Fear    (Free-ish verse--Eight trochaic dimeters ending with two iambic dimeters aren't a standard verse style that I know of.)

Stealthy noises

In the darkness

Coming nearer,

Ever nearer.

Eyes grow bigger,

Breathing catches,

Heart rate quickens,

Muscles quiver.

I long to run.

It comes!  It comes!

P.S. I'm currently working to turn the poem "Happiness" into a sonnet, but such a strict form is difficult to work with, so I'll have to complete and upload it later.  Woo!  I'm writing this far too late at night (1:18 am)!

P.P.S. Well, it seems my only late-night error (that I can detect) lies in how I originally posted this to the Coon Family Gathering blog.  Clearly this error has been rectified.  Now for bed!

On Teaching and Delighting

       Children's author Gloria Whelan wrote that "the thorns of the most severe virtue are charming when they are conveniently twisted with the flowers of pleasure."  This union of teaching and delighting (as Sir Philip Sidney described poesy) is a natural blend employed by educators, entertainers, parents, pastors, prophets, and even the Good Lord Himself.  It is a wise tactic, for a dull didactic discourse unredeemed by a delightful design will not long detain the deference of its audience; likewise, a sensational or exotic story sans sincere cerebral substance will seldom satisfy the sense and soul of its recipients.  Unfortunately, we do not always remember to maintain an appropriate balance betwixt the twain; I blame a lack of delight (and understandability) in mathematics instruction for my (former?) dislike of the subject, and I scorn entertainment lacking cleverness or meaningfulness.  Thus, let us recall this little lesson when called to lecture or delight.

Note: I added the alliteration for your sake, Joel.  :)

On Names

      What girl doesn't contemplate the name of her future children?  Or what author doesn't contemplate fitting names for her characters?  For years, I have kept lists of my favorite names, which go on for pages upon pages.  Sometimes I have shared these names and found that not everyone has agreed with my choices or with my perception of them.  This has led me to reflect on the perception of names.
      We may not know the origin of our attraction or repulsion, but we can point to certain elements that evoke those feelings.  Part of our attraction to a name may come from its written shape; for some reason, I love the look of names spelled with "ae" and "ea" like "Meara," "Mikaela," and "Aethelflaed."  Other names roll off the tongue in a way that sounds strong, fluid, rough, or petite to us--or else-wise dependent upon our personalities and connotations associated with the sounds.  For instance, somehow the sound of "mund" falls dully on my ear, so I turn my nose up at the names "Rosamund" and "Edmund" although I  like "Rosalind" and "Edward" just fine.  Our personalities may also determine whether we prefer common "tried and true" names, such as Mary or John in English-speaking countries, or a more "avant garde," "unique," or ethnic name, such as Akela or Shaan Wu, and whether we prefer longer or shorter names.
      Yet, beyond the basic sound, rhythm, and shape of a name, we invariably associate them with people we've known to have them.  Thus, we can never favor certain names because we associate them with unpleasant people, such as "Ursula," which makes me think of the sea witch in The Little Mermaid and the half-crazy old lady in Ivanhoe.  Conversely, certain names attract us because we associate them with pleasant people.  I would likely think little of the name "Blanche," for instance, except that my very first Sunday School teacher went by that name, and it makes me remember her caring, grandmotherly ways.  Our experience with names may also inform our perception of "girl" and "boy" names; Taylor and Ashley may sound like unisex names or solely feminine or solely masculine depending on our culture and experience with their use.
      Furthermore, I theorize that we are attracted to names with sounds similar to our own (assuming we like our name).  As a "Leanna," I have noticed I'm unconsciously attracted to "Lee" and "Anna" and other names incorporating those sounds, such as "Aliana" and "Li."  I have not asked around to see whether other people are similarly influenced, but I suspect the attraction is not uncommon.

      Below, I've presented a short-list of my (current) favorite names--a subjective list influenced by both the sound, appearance, and my own connotations.  You might consider your own connotations as you read them: 

Favorite Boy Names

Alphonse, Ananias, Eric, Daniel, Hayate, James, Johann, Kael, Kirian, Leland, Liam, Josiah, Marek, Matthias, Mikhail, Micah, Nakatsu, Nikolai, Theodore, Wesley             

Favorite Girl Names

Akane, Anara/Inara, Athalia, Ariana, Grace, Izumi, Kaylie/Kaelee, Kaya, Kansa, Kitty, Meridyn, Mikaela, Miri, Miriam, Naomi, Sierra, Serenity, Winter

On Fiction and the Christian: Emotion

What we read affects our thoughts and behavior—sometimes subtly changing our perceptions of ideas and sometimes rather obviously changing our emotions and, thus, actions.  For instance, when I read a sad or hopeless story, I feel depressed for hours afterward.  When I finish a great story or triumphant scene, I feel euphoric and energetic for the remainder of the day.  Vice-versa, if I read a distasteful scene, I might feel polluted and upset the whole day, and even months afterward any time I think of it.  If I read about a character’s unjust situation—especially if I stop reading before its resolution—I may take my anger and helpless feelings out on the people or things around me.  However, alternately, when I read about someone’s suffering, I may feel compassionate toward real people I hear of or meet in such circumstances and may be more apt to offer help.  When I read stories of attacks and battles or survival situations, I feel warier and more mindful of how to act in dangerous situations.  On the other hand, the romance novels I read as a teen increased my desire for a relationship, and once I was in one, such stories increased my urgency to rush into dating and marriage too soon; even Christian romance novels sometimes made me place the “need” for a husband over the need to let God be sufficient for me in my singleness—or later, to let God be the head of our relationship.

I don’t think it’s inherently wrong for fiction to make us feel emotions.  Aristotle, who though not a Christian had many worthy ideas, discussed a concept called “catharsis”—a cleansing of emotion that people experience when they watch plays.  Similarly, fiction allows us to vicariously experience life, and through our emotional reactions, not unlike behavioral conditioning, it teaches us to avoid behaviors that lead to grief and to act out behaviors that lead to lasting happiness.  Naturally, this mental conditioning argues in favor of avoiding books that model ungodly behaviors as though they were good and preferable.  However, as seen above, even godly-minded books can evoke emotions that prompt us to sin.  Thus, we need to discipline ourselves to put down books for a time—or for good—when they begin to affect us overmuch, and like any time sin tempts us, we must take time to prayerfully realign our emotions and attitudes as needed so they do not lead us to sin.

On Fiction and the Christian: What May We Read?

The debate over reading or otherwise imbibing fiction goes back even to the 1500s.  For example, in 1579, previous poet and playwright Stephen Gosson, perhaps having seen earlier writings that lumped vain plays together with dicing and dancing (Oh, horrors!), repented of his earlier work and made a tract titled The School of Abuse, Containing a Pleasant Invective Against Poets, Pipers, Players, Jesters, &c. in which he wrote,

Let us but shut uppe our ears to poets, pipers and players; pull our feete backe from resorte to theaters, and turne away our eyes from beholding of vanitie, the greatest storm of abuse will bee overblown, and a faire path trodden to amendment of life. . . . If players can promise . . . and make it good in their Theaters, that there is nothing there noisome to the body, nor hurtfull to the soule, and that every one which comes to buy their jestes shall have an honest neighbor . . . goe thither and spare not, otherwise I advise you to keepe you thence.

To this, Sir Phillip Sidney wrote his famous response titled The Defense of Poesy, in which he emphasized the value of poetry—fiction—in education and moral edification, saying, “Poetry therefore is an art of imitation . . . a speaking picture with this end, to teach and delight.”  Educators have embraced the idea of delight more in the last century than ever before because they’ve witnessed how necessary delight is to successful instruction, just as “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”  Similarly, we’ve seen a burst of children’s fiction in the past century.  As for teaching, though, one may argue that all stories teach something because authors can’t avoid communicating a worldview—their own or their characters’—and this sends readers subtle messages about life and reality, relationships between people, and good verses evil. 

This subtle effect on our minds is why some Christians today still feel we should restrict our reading and writing to work that explicitly glorifies God.  Then, they say, our minds and hearts will be less likely to stray from God, godly matters, and the work He’s given us on earth.  Other, more moderate Christians merely advise us to use our good judgment and choose our reading material based on verses like Philippians 4:8: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

This is wise instruction to live by.  Yet, we mustn’t think the verse would have us read only stories of sugar and fluff.  What is commendable and excellent may still show worldly realities.  For example, Scripture, which is “breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16-17) plainly presents humanity’s X-rated history, including murder, rape, lying, thieving, idolatry, and nearly every other evil humans have conceived. 

It would seem, then, that reading about ungodly ideas and actions is not necessarily wrong—at least in the context of history or when the story goes on to reveal God’s sovereignty and the godly view of right and wrong.  Then what of stories that do not reveal this?  Must we avoid them?

It depends.

What an vague, unsatisfying answer!  But what edifies one person may lead another astray.  The books themselves cannot make us believe heresy or act sinfully.  However, incorrect ideas within a seemingly benign bundle of paper and ink and glue (or of electronic ones and zeros) may influence us and may result in sin when readers believe and act on them.  Thus, if we find ourselves being led astray or notice that what we read makes our siblings in Christ—or unbelievers we’re witnessing to—stumble, we need to steer clear of it.

We can take guidance on this matter from Romans 14, where Paul tells believers not to pass judgment on disputable matters.  He referred specifically to eating food given to idols, drinking wine, and holding certain days as holier than others—issues that then divided the Church in Rome.  Still, Paul’s words are applicable for other disputable matters such as reading fiction:

It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.  One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.  [However,] if your brother is grieved by what you eat, you are no longer walking in love. By what you eat [or read], do not destroy the one for whom Christ died . . . It is good not to . . . do anything that causes your brother to stumble. The faith that you have, keep between yourself and God. Blessed is the one who has no reason to pass judgment on himself for what he approves. But whoever has doubts is condemned if he eats, because the eating is not from faith. For whatever does not proceed from faith is sin (v. 4-5, 14-15, 21-23 ESV, bold mine).

In other words, if we read a book we feel is not wrong to read, then we have not done wrong; if we read something despite feeling that it’s sin, we have sinned.  This sounds as though sin is subjective; the Law will not change from person to person, and I cannot imagine a single Christian arguing in favor of reading books written for only sinful purposes (erotica, for example).  However, “sin” refers to any disobedience, and if we have an understanding with God or feel our conscience warning us against certain books, then we must obey even if other Christians do not feel the same prompting.  As we mature in Christ, we may feel freer to read more books, restricted from more books, or simply given a preference for different books than we used to prefer. 

Where we do not have guidance from the Spirit or our conscience, I will say this: I believe it is possible to enjoy the good, edifying parts of a book and overlook the bad without sinning.  Certainly Christians have written fiction involving magic and great evil (consider Tolkien and C.S. Lewis) that still possess a great Christian message.  Some non-Christian fiction likewise includes magic, swearing, erroneous philosophy, or unfortunate “adult” passages while the majority of the story presents an edifying tale of hope or friendship.  Using a non-fiction example, Christians can read Darwin’s Origin of the Species, Marx’s Communist Manifesto, or even the Qua’ran without sinning if we keep our intentions pure—to understand non-believers’ points of view so that we may debate or appeal to them more knowledgeably—and if we do not allow ourselves to be taken in by the false ideas.  To that end, we must read prayerfully and constantly “test the spirits [or philosophies] to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world” (1 John 4:1).  Likewise, if we find that reading—or what we read—causes us to sin, we must bravely cut it out of our life; “It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God [crippled, lame, or with one eye than] be thrown into hell” (Mark 9:43-47 ESV).