September 2008 Archives

Today is where I finally give in to another "cosmic conspiracy." For those who may not be familiar with such things, a "cosmic conspiracy" is where a topic or train of thought keeps coming up in my daily life to the degree that I begin to suspect that the very universe is conspiring against me to force me to face and grapple with that particular topic or train of thought. Today's "cosmic conspiracy" (I use the quotes because I refuse to accept the idea that the universe really conspires against people) has to do with the topics of interfaith relations and interfaith dialogue. Actually, I'm just going to use the word interfaith relationships because I believe that dialogue is just a natural part of relationships, so it makes sense to roll the latter into the former.

A lot of people are talking about interfaith relationships right now. And I think that's a great thing. I'm all for interfaith relationships, myself. It's a good thing, too, because there are a lot of them in my life.

For this post, I'd like to try and focus on what interfaith relationships are really all about and why they're important. Obviously, any answers I give will be my personal answers. Other people may see things differently and therefore may disagree with me in part or entirely. But as someone who engages in interfaith relationships regularly and seeks to increase my involvement in them, I think it's important to explore my answers to these questions.

First, I would like to point out that faith traditions do not have relationships. Faith traditions are abstract concepts. Abstract concepts do not have relationships. Relationships require actors with personality. So people have relationships. Those people's faith traditions just come along for the ride. Certainly, those faith traditions may influence and otherwise become reflected in the relationships, but in the end, the relationships are really about the people. No relationship -- interfaith or not -- works out unless those involved really grasp the truth of that statement. Because anything that isn't about the people involved isn't a relationship at all.

People surround us every day of our lives. Some of those people are going to be of different faith traditions. When we come into contact with those people, we have to make a choice. We can ignore them and pretend they're not there. While such a choice may make sense in isolated cases, the effort of ignoring someone we see regularly can be inconvenient and even quite difficult. This is especially true of this person is a coworker, a friend's significant other, or otherwise has any sort connection to us that would make avoiding any relationship altogether nearly impossible.

We can treat a person with hostility, keeping them at arms length. Again, this is rarely an effective strategy. In addition to being problematic if the person is someone we might be forced to have some sort of relationship with for other reasons, it takes a lot of energy to maintain and live in a state of hostility. That sort of thing tends to take its toll on us.

Our final option is to engage the person and establish a relationship. That relationship can be casual or intimate, depending on numerous factors. But in the long run, this choice is usually the healthiest and most convenient one.

I will also admit that on personal level, I enjoy building relationships. I love people and I love interacting with them. So I'm certainly biased in favor of this last option anyway. However, I will note that my bias does not necessarily negate the accuracy of my analysis of the other options.

Once we've accepted that engaging people in relationships is the best option, we are faced with another choice. We must decide whether we will allow our individual faith traditions to come into the picture. There's certainly no rule that states that we must discuss our faith traditions into every relationship we have. In some cases, avoiding the subject makes perfect sense. For example, it's not relevant in my relationship with my coworkers, so I generally don't bring it up.

However, our faith traditions are usually important to us as people. As such, not discussing them with the people we relate to creates and maintains a certain amount of distance in our relationships. After all, it creates a part of us that is "off limits" and closed off to the other person. While this is acceptable in casual relationships where other factors are more important, it will not work with close friendships and other intimate relationships.

Similarly, the other person's faith tradition is important to them. If we refuse to discuss and engage with their faith tradition, we have created an impediment for close relationship. I might as well change the subject abruptly every time a close friend brings up the topic of his children. I have no doubt that the net result would be similar.

There are other reasons why I find interfaith relationships both necessary and important, and I hope to share them in a future post. I also hope to discuss some of the pitfalls common in interfaith relationships. But for now, I would like to close by reiterating that like any relationship, interfaith relationships are about people. They are important because people are important. At least that's the understanding I choose to live by.

This post has been submitted to the October 2008 Interfaith Dialogue synchroblog. The following is a list of other participants in the synchroblog.

Be sure to check out my fellow synchrobloggers!

Yesterday, I bought a copy of How NOT to Write a Novel and began reading it. I learned about the book reading the comments over at Slacktivist, and the title (not to mention the part Fred's commentor quoted) just called to me.

The book is written by a couple of people in the publishing industry. They decided that rather than writing another book filled with hit-or-miss techniques for writing a great novel, they'd describe the numerous mistakes that fledgeling authors make, mistakes which guarantee their manuscript will find the shortest path to the recycling bin.

So far, I've finished the three chapters having to do with common plot mistakes. I'm pleased to report that I've so far managed to avoid most of those in Harald's Story. However, the one section did give me reason to reconsider an early scene in the story. I don't plan on removing or editing it yet, as I think I can justify the scene and it's not that bad -- at least not in my opinion. But when I finish the first draft, I'll go back and look at it as part of the editorial process.

The book itself is rather humorous. I think the examples of bad writing they provide are even funnier. A lot of them involve some sort of fusion between ergonomics and hydraulics, which is just plain weird. I'm starting to wonder if they've chosen to weirdness of the plot device to further emphasize the bad writing they're trying to draw potential writers' attentions to. Or perhaps they created such a totally bizarre subject to avoid hurting anyone's feelings by choosing something that might resemble a potential reader's own poor attempts at writing.

I've been writing a lot of posts about the writing I've been doing. I think I may be getting obssessed. I'm not sure that's a bad thing, though.

Tonight, I wrote the next installment of Harald's Story. If I did everything correctly, it should automatically show up on WOTL tomorrow. At this juncture, I thought it appropriate to offer some of my own musings on this story, and possibly on writing in general.

The section I wrote tonight contains a couple events of significance. The first event is the departure of Father Delling from the tale. Strangely, his passage into the shadows is rather understated, given how fond I and some of my readers have become of him. There's no fanfare or grand speeches. In fact, the goodbyes themselves are not recorded because they are observed from a distance. And yet, this seems appropriate for the old monk. I do not know if he will return. I have played with the possibility that he might make a brief appearance as the story wraps itself up. But even that is merely a possibility.

The other event of significance is not about plot, but the storytelling itself. I have added a new point of view to the narration. This new section is told from the point of view of Captain Soren. To be honest, this both surprises me an troubles me. When I introduced his character, I had no intention of telling his point of view. And yet, tonight's work made it clear that it was appropriate to do so.

This troubles me because I find myself wondering if Soren, a character I introduced to play a relatively small part, might have just taken on a bigger role than I had planned. I grant you that he would not be the first character in the story to do so. Both Berit (who I planned to deny even a name beyond "Girl" when I first imagined her) and Brother Jens were originally introduced as small actors meant to merely push the plot along, and somehow managed to insert themselves into the heart of the tale against my own plans.

Alas, I am a poor author at the mercy of his characters! I fear they may next demand that I include their names be added to the author line. Or perhaps one of them will make mention of their cut of any royalties. It's an amusing thought, though I'm not sure how amusing it really is.

I think the next installment I write will likely be told from Jens's point of view. I'm a bit concerned by that possibility, as I'm not sure I can catch his inner voice correctly. Point of view can be tricky like that, and Jens is possibly the character whose point of view is most difficult for me. I'm not sure whether that's due to how unfamiliar his mindset has become to me or how familiar it used to be.

I'm reminded of a friend of mine, whom I shall call Trish. Six or seven years ago, she tried her hand at writing. For her, writing was one of the ways for her to try to process through her own confusion and resentment toward her funamentalist Christian background. Her main villain was a domineering woman who embodied everything she despised about those from Trish's background that had hurt her. To put it mildly, this villain was a caricature of pure evil. And unless you're trying to write a fairy tale, such caricature's don't really work that well. Fortunately, Trish was trying to write a fairy tale.

Unfortunately for Trish, she tried to write a few chapters from her villains point of view. I can honestly say that those chapters did not work at all. A narrator who oozes that much evil is simply unbelievable, even in a fairy tale. Under such circumstances, you have to make the person's point of view seem at least someone reasonable, even if it's ultimately objectionable.

I sincerely hope that my efforts to relay Brother Jens's point of view is more realistic than Trish's portrayal of the inner workings of her villain's mind. But I still worry that I'll be able to do it justice. Hopefully Brother Jens himself will step up and guide me through the process, as so many of the others have already done.

Late last night, I ran across a copy of a typed transcript of a letter I sent to some college friends back in 2003. A month or two before that, we had talked briefly with each other during a get-together of old friends. During that conversation, both Tim and Kathryn had asked me about my spiritual path. Circumstances really didn't lend themselves to the lengthy, private conversation their questions deserved, so I wrote them the letter instead.

As I read the letter, I thought about how I might write it differently today, after five more years of coming to understand my spiritual path more fully. In that spirit, I thought it might be nice to post a few excerpts from it and offer a bit of commentary.

For this post, I would like to focus on what I said in the letter about my patron goddess:

If I were going to try to describe my sacred lady in a single word, that word would have to be “passion.” Or perhaps “passionate” would be better. To her, life is one great passion which should be embraced and nurtured. To her, there is nothing worth doing that should not be done with great, unreserved intensity.

Naturally, she is a goddess who finds the passions of love and love-making sacred. Indeed, it is my experience that her love is a sensual love, even when it is the sensuality of a tight embrace between friends. (Indeed, communing with her often has the residual effect of heightening my awareness of my own senses.)

But her passion is not limited to romance and eroticism. It spreads to any and every undertaking in every aspect of life. This often makes her quite determined and single-minded when she sets her mind to any course of action. And she is inclined to nurture this quality in her devotees.

To this day, the initial description of Freyja still follows this same pattern. To me, understanding my lady's passionate embrace of all life and her desire to share that passion with those who come to her is central to understanding her very nature. Those who wish to find her are likely to do so where life is not only revered, but celebrated and lived to the fullest. Some of the moments that I have most strongly felt her presence include times when I was dancing at a nightclub, having dinner with friends, or in the middle of a lively discussion at one of the local coffee shops.

I have come to understand that this is because to her, life itself is one of the sacred mysteries to be explored, enjoyed, and cherished. Her way is not one of self-denial (at least not self-denial for its own sake or as an end in itself), but one of responsible self-indulgence. It is one which honors life's joys and sorrows (the latter being an inherent shadow side to the former) and recognizes them as sacred.

One of the other things that I have noticed as I've felt her presence and even conversed with her in these celebratory settings is that these joys and sorrows are meant to be shared. Her passion for and celebration of life are not meant to be a solo pursuit to be cherished alone. But instead, these are things that are meant to be celebrated with others, so that others may experience them and catch them. To put it another way, these are things that are meant to be contagious and be encouraged to spread like wildfire.

Of course, not all celebrations of life must be chaotic and wild. One of the other things that I have learned lately is that there is such a thing as a "cool passion," much like the glowing embers of a carefully tended fire rather than the raging inferno. This approach to life has its place as well. Indeed, one of the challenges of following my goddess is coming to understand when each type of "fire" is most appropriate.

As I began my trip back home, yesterday, I stopped at the Acorn market to refuel. After refueling I stepped inside to use the ATM and restrooms. While standing at the ATM, I overheard a small group of women talking and looking at the map hanging on a nearby bulletin board. They were trying to find where they were. I tried to tell them where to look and then offered to show them as soon as I was done at the ATM. Once I had my money and receipt in hand, I stepped over, did a quick scan of the map, and pointed at the cigarette burn that used to be the intersection of Rt. 15 and Rt 328 on the map.

"Oh, so we should be in New York soon!" one woman said in relief. I agreed and asked them where they were headed. "Niagara Falls," she replied. I asked her about the route they were taking, and she confessed he didn't really know because they were using a GPS. (This is a somewhat common side effect of using a GPS for travel that I simply don't comprehend.)

We then spent a few minutes talking about their plans, and I recommended a few things in the Niagara Falls area I enjoy doing. We then talked about their larger trip, which includes an earlier stop at Hershey and a future excursion into New York City. The conversation lasted about five minutes as we all waited our respective turn to use the restrooms.

As I thought about it later, I was amazed at this further evidence of some of the changes I've gone through. While my father has certainly been the kind to strike up conversations with random people on the road, it's not something I've ever shown either an interest or ability in doing. And yet, here I was, engaging in a conversation that would come perfectly naturally for Dad, and I was finding it equally natural and comfortable for myself, too.

What happened to the shy, socially incompetent guy I used to be? How did I become this self confident, only slightly socially incompetent guy who spoke with ease to a group of perfect strangers?

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's just surprising.