musings | Matt W Cook

December 7, 2011

When Was the Last Time You Played?

When was the last time you listened to a favorite song and pretended you were the lead singer?
When was the last time you built a fort?
When was the last time you wore something silly just because it looked silly?
When was the last time you talked to a stranger?
When was the last time you danced in public?
When was the last time you played with a toy boat in the bath?
When was the last time you drew a picture with crayons?
When was the last time you played with Lego?
When was the last time you climbed a tree?
When was the last time you jumped from couch to chair, pretending the floor was lava?
When was the last time you pretended to be a dinosaur?
When was the last time you played in the rain?
When was the last time you did a cartwheel?
When was the last time you ate something weird?
When was the last time you jumped in a puddle?
When was the last time you had a pillow fight?
When was the last time you imagined you were someone else?
When was the last time you dyed your hair a ridiculous colour?
When was the last time you wore something because you liked it, instead of because everyone else dresses that way?
When was the last time you believed you could change the world?
When was the last time you were entranced by a trick of light?
When was the last time you read a joke book?
When was the last time you went to bed excited about the upcoming day?

When was the last time you refused to let society define what it means to ‘act your age?’
When was the last time you played?

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November 30, 2011

How I Read

Most folks are proud of the genres they read. The person who reads only ‘classics’ scoffs at the nerd who reads sci-fi. The person who reads only epic fantasy yawns at the one who reads literary fiction. I don’t understand that. I read everything.

I enjoy Ernest Hemmingway. I enjoy Brandon Sanderson. I enjoy Tom Clancy. I enjoy Salman Rushdie. And it’s not hard to enjoy them all, if you read right.

Books are not written to be judged anymore than people are born to be judged. With Amazon reviews and Goodreads, we’re all tempted to read things just for the joy of putting a certain amount of stars on the book. We get off on telling people how a book meets, or fails to meet, our precise expectations. But the author didn’t tell that story so you could judge it. He or she told that story to tell you something. Are you going to listen or are you going to grade him or her?

All good stories are true, even the ones that never happened. It doesn’t matter if the story is in Paris, Randland or Arrakis. If the story is authentic, honest and true, it cannot be boring or trite or shallow. Even if it feels that way. Slow plots or heavy action or mythical critters can’t take truth, honesty and authenticity from a story.

Life is made of many genres. Some people’s lives are fast-paced and full of strange, unique wonder. Some lives are slow and full of inner, nuanced wonder. All lives are full of wonder. And stories are, primarily, about lives.

Give other genres a chance. Do you mostly read literary fiction? Read a sci-fi. Do you mostly read fantasy? Read something by Jane Austen. Do you mostly read Christian fiction? Read a book on Buddhist spirituality. And quit judging everything you read. Because the more you judge (books and people) the sharper your taste will grow. Until one day you will wake up and realize that you hate every book out there, because none of them can live up to your oh-so-very refined tastes.

Don’t judge.

Read.

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November 21, 2011

Buying a Skateboard

I saw a skateboard in Value Village today. It was pretty slick. I hopped on it and pushed myself around a bit. I can’t skate. Never really tried. But in that moment, I wanted it. I wanted it bad.

So the wheels in my head started turning as I desperately tried to stay upright. Should I buy it? I thought of all the other crazy things I’ve tried picking up over the years.

There’s that cool ocarina I got off the Internet. It may be one of the coolest instruments in the universe. I was going to learn to play it and wander around hillsides, stopping in at taverns and playing for my supper. Where is it now? In some drawer somewhere.

There’s that book I have that teaches you how to turn old T-shirts into usable clothes. I got a sewing machine and made a laundry bag and a couple sexy shirts for my wife. Where is it now? I actually am not sure.

And there’s that that pair of Rollerblades I was sure I would use to zip around Toronto, reducing my carbon footprint and tuning my body into that of a bronzed god. The skates are packed in a storage bin and my body is far too squishy to belong to any self-respecting god.

Wow. So it looks like I don’t complete the things I start. I looked down at the skateboard and prepared to toss it away.

But wait.

I got a guitar when I was young. Kinda kept at it. I can still kinda play, too. Gives me joy.

I tried writing stuff when I was in Pakistan. Kept at it. Finished a few dozen poems, short stories and 1.99 novels now. It’s my thing.

Wanted to learn a second language. Aur abhi mujhe Urdu ati hai. Alhumduallah!

Whoa! I finish some stuff.

So when I look at the skateboard at my feet, I gotta ask myself only one question: “Will I be bound by precedent? Or will I strike out and try new things, fully aware that I don’t always finish them? Will I stay doing the things I’ve always done or will I stretch myself and evolve?”

In the spring, I’m gonna find me a skateboard. Maybe I’ll use it twice and never touch it again. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn how to use it. Maybe I’ll cruise around town on it. Maybe it’ll become a new, vibrant part of my life like Urdu and writing.

Better to waste some resources in the pursuit of new skills and experiences than to sit around doing the same thing over and over again.

So go out! Take a yoga class! Try barefoot jogging! Learn parkour! Try a LARP! Do something new and forget about whether you will keep doing it or not. You’ll be dead soon, after all. And it’s better to have a dozen unfinished experiences behind you than to have nothing at all.

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November 14, 2011

Plot, Character and Bags of Wit

I recently finished The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway. It reminded me of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

I think every Literature Major across the planet just shuttered.

But hear me out.

I was asked what the plot to The Sun Also Rises was. It took me about twenty minutes to answer. And I think I answered it wrong. I sometimes feel the same way when people ask me what The Hitchhiker’s Guide is about. There’s not really much of a plot to it. People complain about holes and the absurdity of every single character and story arc in The Hitchhiker’s Guide. But characters and story arcs are not the point. The story and the characters are just the skeleton to which the massive muscles of wit are attached. Just the bag in which the wit is stored. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is a big, beautiful bag of wit. The wit is high and lovely. And if you understand that when you start, you’ll love the book and the lack of coherent plot won’t bother you at all.

I feel like The Sun Also Rises is similar in a nobler way. The story is the characters. It’s Brett and Cohn and Jake. You cannot put anyone else in their place.

Other stories are devoted to plot. Replace Harry Tasker with James Bond and you’ll still get a neat movie. But put Robert Langdon in Robert Cohn’s place and everything falls apart.

Hemingway created real people. And real people don’t need plots and gimmicks to be interesting. They are interesting and beautiful and ugly and tragic and glorious all by themselves.

October 26, 2011

No Plan B

I call my dad Dave. Or The Dave when I think he’s cool. Which is often. He’s the cat’s meow.

He runs his own software development company. He’s been doing it for almost as long as I’ve been alive. From a distance he looks like your average, button-pressing manager-dude (I obviously have no idea what managers do). So when I was in my mid-teens and he asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I was scared.

I wanted to act, deep down. And I was pretty sure I was good at it. It was the only thing I wanted out of life at that time. But how do you tell your father that? Especially when your father has been working at the same office since you were born? I was thoroughly expecting one of those sit-com lectures about thinking of your future and not wasting youth on silly things like dreams and acting.

So I hedged my bet. I told him about an interest in the arts and acting, but I quickly assured him I intended to get a business degree or something to fall back on if that dream evaporated.

He got serious. He looked me in the eye, which was freaky because we were driving down the QEW.

“Don’t have a backup plan,” The Dave said. “No plan B.”

He explained that if my dream was acting, I ought to, nay, need to sacrifice everything else. If it’s acting, then throw all your chips into acting. Acting or bust.

I was pretty shocked.

I shouldn’t have been.

If I had paid attention as a kid, I’d have seen that The Dave is no normal businessman. When he was young and newly married, he quit his profitable factory job to go out on his own and start a photography business with his buddy. Everyone was scared, but his dad told him to go for it. His dream changed as the years went on and it evolved into the software company it is today. But the point is, he chased the dream and cut his safety net. He had no plan B. And he won. He’s one of the only people I know who loves going to work in the morning.

My dreams have changed since that talk. But I never forgot what he said. And I think it’s still true. If my dream is writing (and it is), I’ll spare no effort or expense to bring it to life. I’ll sacrifice time and responsibilities on its altar. I’ll refuse to hedge my bets. Because hedging your bet is insulting to the dream. It’s like signing a prenuptial agreement. It feels safe, but it’s ugly and false betrays the sacred vow you’re taking.

Find the dream. Marry it, forsaking all others.

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October 24, 2011

Can’t Have it All

You can’t have it all. Where would you put it?

I never really wanted it all. I wanted a lot. But not all. Some things just don’t appeal.

I wanted a lot, though. And it seemed reasonable. I wanted to excel as a family man. I wanted to write novels and get paid for it. I wanted a stellar blog that was updated every day and earned a million positive comments. I wanted to get a degree of some kind, like mathematics or anthropology. I wanted to like under a Neem tree in rural Sindh. I wanted to rock faces at WoW, 3v3 (Shadowplay ftw!). I wanted to read every book ever written. I wanted this. I wanted that.

But where would I put it all?

A day is like a room. It only fits so much. And when it gets overcrowded, you run the risk of damaging some of your stuff.

Can’t have it all. Gotta toss some stuff out. Or at least cut back.

I tried so hard to blog every weekday while writing sermons and novels and playing with my kids and dating my wife and practicing guitar and doing yoga and reading Urdu and playing craft and doing protests and going to work and reading Hemingway and HOLY CRAP ARGH!

Can’t do it all. Because when you try to do it all, you suck at everything.

So I’m going to do it some.

People first, of course. Especially the wife and kids. Because that’s where love and the future are.
Writing second. That’s the dream and I’m not ready to let it go after so much progress.

Everything else?

Don’t rush me. Still trying to find shelf space for the first two.

How much are you trying to accomplish? Is it too much?

5 Comments

October 19, 2011

How to Love

People say it’s hard to love. I guess it’s true sometimes.

Different people find it hard to love for different reasons.

Some folks can’t stand argumentative people. Some folks can’t stand people who think differently than they do. Some folks can’t stand mean people.

Everyone has haters. From Gandhi to Mother Theresa all the way down to Glenn Beck and John Stewart. Everyone is hated by someone. Or, at least, unloved.

Depressing, eh? Especially when you get that sneaking suspicion that you are one of those unlovers.

But there’s a way to love.

The greatest man told us to love enemies. Then he proved it was possible by walking a path of love that led him to a state-sponsered death. And while he was dying, he told his killers that he loved them. ‘Father, forgive them.’ And he showed us what God is really like.

The fact is, God loves Glenn Beck, regardless of how he makes me squirm. He loves Glenn Beck relentlessly. Passionately. With the unbridled power of a thousand suns. It doesn’t matter what Glenn Beck says or believes. God loves Glenn Beck. Because Glenn Beck carries within himself a beautiful image of God. He is, despite what I or anyone else thinks of his opinions and politics, a beautiful soul.

And when I think of that, suddenly I love Glenn Beck, too.

Pick that one person. That one person who gets you on edge every time they speak or tweet or show up on the TV screen or knock at your door.

God loves that person. Passionately. Relentlessly. With the unbridled power of a thousand suns. That person is a beautiful soul.

That’s worth loving.

Because if we could just master this one thing, the wildest part of Jesus’ most famous prayer would come true:

Your kingdom come,
Your will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.

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October 17, 2011

Why I Occupy Toronto

I was at the Occupy Toronto protest these last two days. I’ll be there a lot as the weeks go on because I think it’s an important movement.

A lot of folks are dismissive of it. Some are downright hostile. I hear some of the arguments repeated.

I’m told that, since I live in a wealthy country, it’s hypocritical to protest greed. Our poor, some say, are on par with the rich in many countries. I’ve heard Occupy rhetoric compared to Nazi propaganda. I’ve heard the movement dismissed as a bunch of whiny middle-class white folks who wish they could be upper-class white folks.

All this is nothing more than a complete misunderstanding of what the Occupy movement is all about.

We don’t want wealth. And we don’t hate the rich, either. Our problem is with the corporate-dominated system that has created global economic inequality. Real people are starving and social mobility is a myth for many in Canada and around the world.
We want to start dialogue and draw people’s attention to some very pressing issues. Globally, the top 1% are using corporate power to influence governments for their own benefit. Policies are put into place that keeps the poor down and boosts the wealthy up. The few are using power in a way that abuses the many.
We’ve been called vague and leaderless. I suppose that’s justified because we are wildly different people. We are liberals and conservatives, libertarians and communists – all united in the realization that our current, corporately-run system is perpetuating a system of global economics that is destroying lives and pushing developing countries and the lower classes down.
We don’t have all the answers. We are a voice that is trying to inform people of the problem. We don’t mind if people scoff and dismiss us. We don’t mind the insulting cartoons and the people calling us lazy fools and greedy hippies. We don’t have all the answers, because our movement is about starting dialogue and asking questions. Answers will come once enough people come together and see that the problem is not that the poor don’t work hard enough or anything else so impossibly simplistic.
While it’s true that Canada has not been hit as hard by the recession as many other nations, there are still economic problems in our own borders. Since the 1980s, the top 20% wealthiest Canadians enjoyed a 16.4% increase in median earnings while the bottom 20% had a 20.6% drop. Nearly 5% of Canadians live at ‘Basic Needs Poverty.’ And these are, globally, good numbers.
The global system of corporate greed mixed with politics is against the messages of love and justice of God (Is. 10:1-3, Ez. 16:49ff).

Now, I bet a lot of you will be disagreeing with me. I bet a lot of you are still convinced that our movement is disruptive, angry and somehow Nazi and Communist at the same time. I want to invite you, instead of posting angry things on the Internet, to come on down to St. James park and visit us. Grab some free, home-made soup and a coffee and chill in our library tent. Strike up a conversation with a stranger and ask why they are there. And ask another, too, because we’re a diverse crowd and three different people will give you three different answers. Don’t take the media’s word for what’s going on down here and don’t take mine, either. Take the time to understand us and why we’re here.

There are three things you can do in regards to the Occupy movement, as it spreads across the world. You could ignore it, and just see what happens. You could speak out against it, calling the poor lazy and the wealthy hard-worker job creators. Or you could join the talk. Listen to us and we’ll listen to you. Because, odds are, you’re the 99%, too. And your voice is important.

2 Comments

October 14, 2011

Escapism in Entertainment and Religion

Ever notice how similar religion and entertainment can be? I bet if you thought about it, you could come up with a list.

I think about the religion I was raised in; fundamentalist evangelicalism. Nice people, more or less. All my life I heard stories about how much our human society sucked and how great it was going to be when Jesus burned everyone else up and took us away to live happily ever after. The gospel was like one of those escape route maps you find in the back pocket of the seats on airplanes. Go from A to B then C to avoid burnination.

Alas, during my formative years, I never really heard about any of the amazing things I could do to make the world a better place. The entire focus was on abandoning ship. My religious education never encouraged me to take an interest in politics (except for being sure not to vote for people who supported gay marriage). I was rarely encouraged to care for the environment or social justice. Instead of trying to fix and redeem the world, we were content to sit back and let it burn as we wore our asbestos suits and neckties.

Not that this is a problem specific to fundamentalism. Every religion I’ve had relationships with leans this way.

But I’m optimistic. I think that our religious climate is starting to look at the human experience in a much more holistic way. Yay for that.

But I fear that this obsession with escapism has trickled down into how we view our entertainment.

Why do you read books? Why do you watch TV? Most people will say, ‘To get away for a while.’ To unplug. To let go. To escape.

Let it never be!

A human being, carved from dirt into the image of the divine, has poured their creative energy, inherited from God, onto a page or a screen or a canvas. They have, in their own weak and fledgling way, become a creator of worlds and stories and lives and people. With ten fingers tapping they have called something from nearly nothing. And you want to use their world as a place to escape?

No!

Stories are not a place for you to escape the real world. They are images of the real world. They are not idealized life, but elevated life. Through stories we see our own world ever more clearly. And through their invented wonders we more clearly see the wonders of our own world and characters and societies. Stories ‘make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water (G.K. Chesterton).’

I beg you, friends, do not escape! Do not run away. Not to religion and not to stories. Because both of them are such mind-bogglingly powerful things that to use them only for escape seems as trite as using a jackhammer to kill a butterfly. Not only is it a supreme waste of energy, it begs the question as to why you want to kill something so beautiful as a butterfly in the first place.

5 Comments

October 10, 2011

New Testament Gathering Principles

Dr. Zaius, you silly orangutan.

I preach sometimes. I grew up in a nifty restorationist denomination that was formed in an attempt to get back to ‘New Testament Gathering Principles’. The founders figured that the organized church had drifted pretty far from the pattern of being Christ’s body that he had originally laid down. Sounds good, eh?

I decided to preach on New Testament gathering principles last week. If you drop by in one of the churches from my denomination there’s a chance you’ll hear a sermon with this title. It’s pretty popular. I can’t count how many of them I heard growing up. Usually they’re about how we need to say ‘assembly’ instead of ‘church’ or how women aren’t allowed to talk or lead or go around without doilies on their head. I wanted to get a bit closer to the core in my sermon, though. Here’s some gathering principles I shared:

Famous for Love – John 13:34-35; 15:12. A quick Google search shows that the top four adjectives for describing evangelicals are ‘Insane,’ ‘Crazy,’ ‘Dangerous,’ and ‘Scary.’ Jesus said that people would know we were with him if we were famous for love.
Devoted to the Apostle’s Teaching – Acts 2:42. What did they teach? The same stuff that Jesus taught. Love. More love. Lots of love. The kind of love that leads you to die for strangers and enemies. Devoted to that.
Community – Acts 2:44-46; 4:32. No, not the wildly funny TV show. Living with such a sense of unity that we share everything we have. No private property. Like having a wildly big family. Most churches are clubs that meet on Sunday. The pattern was a community of people who lived and loved together all the time.
Productive, Risky Social Action – Acts 4:34. People quote Jesus in saying that the poor will always be with us as an excuse not to help eliminate poverty. It’s a good thing Jesus is still alive, otherwise I think he’d be turning over in his grave to hear such talk. The first followers eliminated poverty amongst their circles. It was risky, but it worked. Good pattern.
Making Disciples – Matthew 28:18-20; Acts 2:47. Not converts. Jesus never tried to get the Samaritan woman to convert to Judaism. His call was never convert. It was follow. Repent. Walk. Move. He didn’t come so that our theological statements could be more logically consistent than a Muslim’s. He came to reproduce.

My people left the Anglican church because their leaders were more concerned with robes and ceremonies than they were with the things that Jesus said. I hope that we can always be moving in a restorationist direction, or else we’ll find ourselves, like Dr. Zaius, pushing truth away because it comes in a different box than we’re used to

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Category: musings