Thursday, December 28, 2006
I defaced a book. The above-pictured-book was sitting on the top of a pile of books at the Bins. For those of you unaquainted with the the phenomenon affectionately known as the "bins," imagine a warehouse. Imagine large plywood bins, about waist-high and as wide and broad as a car. Now fill them with the flotsam and jetsam of a crass materialist society; from last-year's fashions, to broken appliances, to stale decorative objects. Savvy buyers wear rubber gloves and bring their own bags. Everything is past its date, passe, quaint, obsolete, a has-been. I saw this book and I immediately wondered whose world were they are they talking about? The illustration reminded me of the old sixties covers of the Ring Trilogy. I was so taken by the "world" it presented with such assurance that I tore it off and purchased it. I have never seen that place. I have never even seen a full eclipse. Joshua trees I have seen in abundance, but not juxtaposed with livid poppies and palm trees. Yet the cover confidently states "the world we live in."
This Won't Be a Science Lesson
This entry was originally going to be about the "infinite complexity" of God. Then I felt completely inadequate for the task, especially after I looked it up in the wiki. I realized that if I succeeded, no one would be any closer to God and I would sound arrogant and ridiculous. I have been seriously questioning what I thought about God lately. Not that that changes who or what God is, but I was more intrigued by my own assumptions, experiences and how that papered my inner landscape.
I was talking to a friend recently, and he went on about God-this and God-that and after a while I realized that his concept of God did not match up with mine at all. While the words were the same, the underlying concepts were startlingly different. What made my God better than his? Clearly my God was more likable, a little less involved and spent a lot of time painting the sunsets and making dragonflies. His God sounded like sounded more like a cosmic Dale Carnegie-- deeply involved with forwarding his career and full of good advice, but hardly touching anything poetic or numinous.
But God is Not a Tree
I wondered how God could continue to be His unchanging self, yet present different things to my friend. That is why I thought the idea of "infinite complexity" could be helpful. Trees are in a limited way "infinitely complex." If God was a tree and I was an ant crawling on a twig, I'd experience something like a Y. The twig branches, and I'd have a choice which branch to continue to crawl on. If I was a child, the tree would still be a Y, albeit, much bigger. I could start at the trunk and swing on the branches. If I was a giant, the tree would be small, but it still would have a Y nature. Even if I was a worm, digging in the dirt in the roots, I'd still be finding Ys.
Its the end of the post, and I still can't find a resolution between the books in the bins, other people's gods and what I know.