Matt W Cook

writer.former fundamentalist.christianly fellow

Category: musings

March 5, 2012

When Someone Leaves

I’ve never been that good at saying goodbye. I tend to watch those people who get all tearful in airports and wonder what it’d be like to feel that way. It’s not that I’m stone-cold or anything. I just feel the leaving of loved-ones in a different way, I guess.

When we’re at the airport, I’m still with them. As they walk away, I can still see them. When I get back into my car, I can trick myself into thinking I just dropped them off at work. Even the next day I can imagine they are still living in my house. Maybe they stepped out to get milk or take my kid to school, like they always were willing to do.

The loss grows over time. I’ve heard about amputees getting a ‘phantom limb’ sensation. It feels like it’s still there, until you try to grab something with it.

Ruth and I woke up pretty late Sunday morning. The kids were already up. I felt the first bit of phantomness. Jodi’s door was open and her room was dark, cold and empty. No one was making tea. I looked at the kettle for a bit before making the pot myself. I could not remember the last time I made my own pot of morning tea. It was weird.

Sunday was a busy day. Lots of moving. Lots of noise and activity. But it felt so quiet. Despite the fact that my house was filled with all the beautiful people I live with, there was something missing. I guess that’s what happens when you say goodbye to someone you love that’s been living with you for … almost two years? Wow. Doesn’t seem that long…

I’m not good at saying goodbye. But I’m good at being with people. I guess that’s what counts. Just like a man’s last words don’t matter nearly as much as all the words and deeds that came before them.

I found a message on my phone late last night. It was from Jodi. She’s home she says. That made me pause. Of course she’s home. Abu Dhabi is her home now, right? Right. It is. It’s where she lives.

But home is also where the heart is. So her real home’s in her chest. Te he.

But home is also where the heart is. So her real home will always be with me and Ruth and all those other people who love her. Welcome home, Jodi. We’ll see you again soon.

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February 29, 2012

Doing Nothing

I’m very nearly done the last revision of my novel.  It’s holding steady at about 181,000 words.  Keeps me pretty busy.  So busy that I hardly have a moment to blog, except from my phone while sitting here on the bus.  When I’m busy like this I become thankful that I’m good at the art of doing nothing.

Have you ever done nothing?  I don’t mean vegging in front of the TV or spacing out in a video game.  Have you ever done nothing?

We have been programmed to think that if what we are doing is not making money or moving toward making money, we are wasting time.  As if our role as humans is to be productive. As if there is some virtue in moving matter from one place and in one form to another.  And so we work long hours and feel guilty when we take breaks, as if we owe some cosmic force a time quota.

But I don’t think that way.  I only allow myself to get as busy as I want to be.  And sometimes I just do nothing.  Nothing.

I sit there.  The clocks slow.  I don’t sleep or rest or escape.  I don’t listen to music or turn on the TV.  I just sit and enjoy sitting.

We are not really a pleasure-driven culture.  We are driven by entertainment and productivity.  We are always doing one or the other.  But when was the last time you just sat?

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February 20, 2012

The Nameless Crowd

     I recently gave a talk about global economics and Christianity. It’s a pretty simple topic to go on, really. All you need to do is show how mind-bogglingly screwed up the distribution of wealth and resources is, then point to the bucketful of prophets and apostles who say that if we aren’t fixing it we’re working against God’s will. I’ve given talks like this a few times in different churches.

     But something slapped me in the face this time.

     I was reading up on the story Jesus told about Dives and Lazarus. You’ve heard the story. Lazarus was a beggar who lived outside of Dives’ house. He was destitute, homeless and covered in painful sores. Dogs used to lick them. The he died. Jesus says that after he died he got carried by angels to a nice place. Then Dives died. His place wasn’t nearly so nice. Jesus suggests guilt on Dives because of Lazarus. Not necessarily because it was Dives who caused Lazarus’ destitution, but because he didn’t give a damn.

     The neatest thing, though, is that Dives didn’t really have a name. If you read the story itself, it just calls him ‘The Rich Man’. Dives is just Latin for rich man. Meanwhile the dying beggar, covered in disease, is called Lazarus. Jesus gives this character the name of one of his best buddies.

     The wealthy, influential and, likely, well-admired hard-working dude is nameless. He’s a nobody. A stat on a page. Just the rich guy.

     The beggar, dying in the streets, ignored and forgotten in his suffering, has a name. A beloved name. A name that people like Jesus care about. Suddenly, in the midst of his horrible circumstance, Jesus gives that character dignity, while subtly taking it away from the one we would have thought was important.

     If you’re reading this blog, I’d wager that you are rich. At least in the top ten percent of wage-earners in the world. And since you have the Internet, you probably know about the suffering that goes on in the world, just like the unnamed rich man did. He did nothing about it, and lost his dignity and importance.

The rich man was guilty because he ignored the poor man’s plight, did nothing about his destitution, failed to use his affluence to relieve the poor man’s need, and acquiesced in a situation of gross economic inequality which had dehumanized Lazarus and which he could have remedied. The pariah dogs who licked the poor man’s wounds showed more compassion towards him that the rich man. Dives went to hell not because he had exploited Lazarus, but because of his scandalous indifference and apathy.
– John Stott – Issues Facing Christians Today

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February 15, 2012

Understanding

     Yesterday, a jillion people uttered the words, “I love you.”

     I think that’s nice. Good for you, jillion people.

     I’ve heard it said that those three words are the nicest words anyone can hear. But I think there are two better ones.

     “I understand.”

     I get you. I see where you’re coming from. I can see how that makes sense. I respect that.

     Me and my wife, believe it or not, disagree on stuff. And not just little stuff like who should pick the kid up from school. Large, world-view kinda stuff. Stuff that would get one or both of us kicked out of certain clubs and circles. I was once warned that these sorts of disagreements would lead to marital problems.

But as love covers a multitude of sins,
So also does understanding cover a multitude of opinions.

     I never ask Ruth to see things the way I do. That would be ridiculous and evil. All I ask is that she understand. And she does. Readily. Quickly. With a smile and a funny quip. And I understand her. We see where each other is coming from, even when we’re not coming from the same place.

     And I think that’s one of the main reasons why our relationship is so good. People are always tempted to base their love on something.

     “Why do you love me?”
     “Because you’re clever.”
     “Because you make me laugh.”
     “Because you’re nice.”
     “Because my body wants your body.”
     “Because you think like I do.”
     “Because…”
     “Because…”
     “Because…”

     Why do we love each other? None of the above. No reason. At least, none that I can think of.

     Sure, Ruth is clever and she makes me laugh and she’s nice and my body certainly wants her body. But if all those things were gone, the love would still be there. The love just is. So I’m not threatened when her mind and conscience take her to a different place than my mind and conscience take me. When we are in different place, we find that we can still hold hands despite the distance. We respect each other’s minds and don’t judge each other.

     Someone once asked, “But what will you teach your kids if you disagree on so many things?”

     Silly, haven’t you been listening? We will teach them love and understanding. Everything else is optional.

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February 13, 2012

Entropy

     Does entropy ever bother you?

     They say that all energy will eventually fizzle and turn useless. They say the universe will turn cold and all life and information and movement will cease. All the songs will be silenced. All the stories will be forgotten. Every trace of human wisdom, love, and hope will fade from the cosmos, leaving not even an echo behind. So it goes.

     The thought makes me shudder.

     It makes you shudder, too, even though you know you won’t be around to experience it. There is something deeply disturbing about end of all things. About the final death. It’s sick. It’s perverted. It’s madness.

     I think we’ve always seen it coming. The ancients knew that all good things come to an end. But they didn’t accept it. They couldn’t. They raged against it.

     The ancient seers flung out their prophecies, calling for the ultimate death of death. They claimed that all these decaying things around us would be reconciled and made well again. They spoke of a pinnacle of existence, better than the one we find ourselves in, where there is no entropy. They claimed that those who sought after glory, honor, and immortality would be a part of it.

     Sounds too good to be true.

     But, you know, it’s the madness of entropy that makes me think those prophets could be right. It’s the utter terror of the thought of nothingness that makes me think there could never be nothing. That makes me dare to hope that our stories will never fully fade away. That makes be wonder if death, indeed, will die.

     Eternity is bound up in the heart of Man. Does that suggest we are meant to dwell in a realm that does not decay?

     I think so.

     I may be wrong. It could be that this universe is all there is. It could be that when the last human fades and dies, all our spirit and love will die with him or her.

     Or perhaps the kingdom of heaven will come. And death will be brought to trial and done away with. And perhaps the stories and songs will never end and the sun will never set. And perhaps the weight of affliction of this dark world will not be worthy to be compared to the glory to be revealed on that day. And we will laugh and dance with those ancient prophets who searched the human and divine spirit to predict that glorious morning.

     Either way, what can we do but rage against the dying of the light?

     So it goes.

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February 6, 2012

2011 Review

I got nothing for you this morning, friends. So here’s my favourite posts from 2011:

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February 3, 2012

Maybe I Can’t

     Maybe I never will.

     Maybe my dreams will be stillborn. Maybe I’ll be a wage-slave for the rest of my life.

     Maybe all the shiny, happy things that dance in my head will stay in my head and never come out. Maybe all the naysayers are right. Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe I’m not smart enough.

     But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

     It’s hard. But I refuse to utter that God-damned word – can’t.

     Because can’t, like death, is so final. But life, like try is so full of possibilites. So full of hope.

     So there, naysayers. So there, thou fel voices in my head. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’ll point your fingers at me in twenty years and laugh and say ‘Told you so! Told you so!’

     But when you do, I’ll smile back and say ‘I’m still alive, silly. Point your fingers at me once I am dead, because I’ve not given up yet!’

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February 1, 2012

On Vegetarianism

     I’ve been a vegetarian for nine months. Last night my son declared himself to be a vegetarian, too, while eating a plate of shepherd’s pie. I pointed out that the beef he was eating was dead cow and, therefore, not vegetarian. He frowned, looked me in the eye and said “Why did you give it to me, then?” He’s decided to try vegetarianism out, and I couldn’t be more excited. I don’t actually believe he will stick with it, he’s only six after all, but I love that he’s thinking about these things.

     There are many reasons I’ve chosen to live meat-free. In the end, it’s a personal choice and matter of conscience. Here’s a few thoughts that led me in this direction:

  • The millions who are starving. The amazing inefficiency of producing animal flesh for food is what made me think about vegetarianism in the first place. Never before have humans consumed so much meat. Most of us say that a meal isn’t a meal without meat, and that sentiment is unprecedented in human history. It’s a bit ironic for me, because I grew up in a church where I was told global hunger was caused by Hindus who sinfully refused to eat cows (seriously, I was told this!). Meanwhile, it takes about sixteen pounds of grain to produce one pound of meat. Most of the earth’s farmland is devoted to producing meat. A global shift away from meat would drive food prices down world-wide and be another blow against world hunger.
  • The cause of non-violence. I am against violence in all forms. Factory farms, where the cast majority of our meat comes from (including organic meat) are sinfully violent. The cows, pigs and chickens are treated in ways that would be illegal if they were cats. I may not think that animals have the divine spark of godhood that humans have, but they are still living creatures like us and I cannot justify causing them to suffer for the sake of my appetite. I abstain for the sake of Jesus’ Path of Peace.
  • My health and well-being. Since removing meat from my diet, I’ve never felt so good. It’s had positive effects on my body, energy and emotional well-being. Even if I did not care about starving people or suffering animals, I would still consider vegetarianism for the benefits I am getting from it.
  • The environment. The UN has issued a report citing animal agricultural as having an effect on the environment nearly on par with the consumption of fossil fuels. And if you know anything about fossil fuels, you know that’s hefty!

     I’m not actually trying to convince anyone to abstain from meat. I’ve made a personal choice based on my conscience. Everyone has to make their own choices, looking to their own consciences. I do think, however, that we humans need to be more mindful about what we eat. We are mindful about our other animal appetites, like sex, and we built spiritual rules around them. I think we need to do the same in regards to the things we eat, don’t you?

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January 30, 2012

Honestly

     Without honesty, you’re dead.

     Trust me, I know. I used to lie to everyone. Everyone. It was tough. I would cry myself to sleep. Well, man-cries, at least.

     It took a while to find someone I could be honest with. And then I found him – myself. It was a bit of a shock, really. Because I knew me to be a pretty judgmental fellow.

     I had been lying to me for years. It was a little scary once I gave myself permission to tell the truth. But, man, it did great things for me.

     A weight came off my shoulders. I know it sounds cliche, but I can’t think of any better way of putting it. I was free. Suddenly the future looked brighter. And, better than that, the present looked bright, too.

     Then I looked to my right and saw my wife. It turns out she had been standing there the whole time, ready and willing to hear my honesty. So I gave it to her. And she was gentle with it. She touched my honesty as I held it out to her, and smiled at it.

     “I’m on a roll,” I thought. I looked around to see who else I could be honest with. I looked up and wondered about God.

     I’ve have a very complicated relationship with the divine. I’ll tell you about it one day. But I figured it was about time to get honest with God. I went to find him and let him know how I really felt.

     But God was not where I had left him. The lock on the door was smashed, you see. It fell apart the day I started being honest with myself. So my concept of God broke free. And God has been leading me on a merry chase through the universe ever since. And he’s been blowing my mind.

     I’m honest with a bunch of people now. It’s nice. It’s freeing. Sometimes it’s dangerous and leads to anger and confusion, but that’s okay. Because most of the time, people look at your honesty and smile. Because I’m free inside and the burden on my back is light. One day I’ll be honest with everyone. One day I’ll be honest with all you wonderful people who read these silly little posts. Not today, but one day.

     Are you honest with you?

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January 27, 2012

The Life You Always Wanted


     You’ve screwed up. So have I, I guess. That’s the way it goes, sometimes. What are you going to do about it?

     Usually we re-live it. We put our minds there and run through the screw-up again and again. So instead of screwing up once, we screw up everyday. The same screw-up. It sucks.

     Keep it up and you’ll die full of regrets.

     Ever wondered what it would be like to know you were going to die? People talk about the choices they’d make if they found out they had a terminal illness. People say they’d call up old friends and right old wrongs and tell off enemies and live life the way they’d always dreamed of living it. I don’t really get that.

     Because I am dying. And so are you. We’ve all been diagnosed with a terminal illness – mortality. No one beats it. 100% casualty rate.

     You know what I’d change in my life if I found out I had terminal cancer? Not much. To be honest, I’m already living the way I want to.

     I have a family that gives me nothing but joy. I am slowly but surely working toward my creative dreams. I am just about the happiest person I know.

     Because I know I’m dying.

     So I don’t pay much attention to the mistakes I’ve made. I don’t re-live them. I don’t whine about not having enough time to follow my dreams. Because I don’e have time to whine. I’m dying. And there’s nothing like living like you were dying.

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