Refocusing

Lately this web-writing thing has been kind of scattered. I started this so that people who love me would know what was going on in my life. Rather than sending out mass emails about my summer travels, I thought, "Hey, why not just broadcast what I'm about for the world to see? Maybe I'll inspire some one!" That's what I want this to be about. I want people to laugh more and be more intentional about living. Living actively rather than responsively. I want to share the best things, the most admirable things, the worthy things that I contact because this world does not shed light on such things enough. I started this so that God would be glorified. Lately though, I've been doing some thinking about how to take the next step into being a part of what is admirable. It start with a healthy understanding of

Stupidity…

…is often associated with impaired reasoning, lack of knowledge or misperception of the outside world. Yet none of those need be present for stupidity to rear its head. In what context then? In the context of relationship. In the context of forcibly placing your own wishes and perspectives and interpretations in the path of some one else, leaving them no alternative but to dive through your twisted web of past experience, beliefs and preferences. Why would we do such things? Why impose? I have no reasonable response; reason has little to do with it. Yet we persist in casting forth our webs to trap and hold those around us in the patterns that we create for them. Can satisfaction be taken in such actions? I can imagine so, but only with relentless self-confidence spurred on by a paternalistic mindset and an individual dedicated to the idea that their own vision for the world rings with absolute clarity and goodness.

It hurts every time.

Why stupidity? Pride.

When, oh when, will I exchange this stupidity for humility?

I must become less that Christ may increase.

A few good bands

I've been to more live shows this year than in the rest of my life combined. It would be a travesty to forget these. So in an attempt to add an element of usefulness to the reader while selfishly immortalizing the good times I've had, I present to you:

The Stratified Subjective Subjugation of Sweet Seattle Sounds

Lame

Project 86
Wyclef Jean - lame because I DIDN'T GO. Sheesh, what the crap was I THINKING??
Talbot Tagora
Cold War Kids

Tolerable

Jesse Sykes
Presidents of the United States of America

Enjoyable

Moneta
Soljibe (New Year's at Schweitzer)
Metro Station
PWRFL Power
Maritime
Mae

Sweet

The Everybodyfields
Tristan Prettyman
Whitley
Sherwood
Motion City Soundtrack
Ted Leo & the Pharmacists (Neumos <>Totally SweetThe Cave Singers
Throw Me the Statue
Death Cab for Cutie (Sasquatch)
The Cure
Mates of State
The Classic Crime (plugged)
Jimmy Eat World
Justice

The Best Day of My Life

Michael Franti & Spearhead
The Classic Crime (unplugged)
Death Cab for Cutie (Bremerton)
Steve Earle
Ghostland Observatory
Anberlin
Hell's Belles

I'd recommend checking out anything at the Sweet level or below. It's been a good year. (these are all the BANDS I've seen, not individual shows)

A True Beauty

This week's episode is brought to you by Solstice Cafe, a favorite venue for long study sessions, some good brew of the stimulant or depressant varieties, or just a quick stop in to catch up with the current trends in edge music. To start off an evening of studying, grab yourself a cup of coffee and a peaches and cream scone, or to wind down after a long day, tap into their rotating selections from Elysian Brewing. You're can't go wrong at Solstice! Now, back to our (ir)regularly scheduled broadcast...

Confident that nothing else could go awry, our heroes spent a pleasant half hour en route to the quaint little town of Surrey.

Rossulous Maximus: "Gosh Davius Awesomnis, it feels great to have all those foul knaves behind us. Surely our luck is about to change for the better!"
Davius Awesomnis: "I concur my esteemed compatriot. Tis a grand day for fine fortune."
Rossulous Maximus: "Ahhh... how pleasant a half hour this has been... but Davius, does not your... umm... toyota pickup... normally make that ticking sound?"
Davius Awesomnis: "By Jupiter, it surely does not! Quick! Crawl under this rapidly moving transit and give a differential diagnosis of its ailment!"

Braving the extremely-nearby, rapidly-moving countryside Rossulous lowered himself into the undercarriage much like the renowned warrior, James Bond. With extreme horror, his eyes came to rest upon a bomb firmly affixed to the frame with a bright, flashing 30:00, 29:59, 29:58 light staring him coldly in the face. After futile attempts at deactivating it, he returned to the cab in a smooth, 70 mph tuck-flip through the window.

By consensus, he and Davius agreed that the only reasonable option was a race against the clock to their awaiting destination. Failure was not an option. A tense 25 minutes passed.

Devoid of the resources needed to zero in on their destination, they circled the area where they knew the beauty to reside, but the clock was ticking. With only minutes left, they elected to abandon their trusty steed to the streets of Surrey and take off on foot. As they sprinted down the byways, through the trees, over bridges and through groomed yards, they could feel the ticking of the clock as a weight upon their souls, a pacemaker on their emotions and a fine example of sinus bradycardia.

Bursting through a hedge, guided by pure instinct (and conveniently-placed street numbers), all thought and emotion vaporized, replaced by a radiant glow encompassing them in its brilliant light and goodness.

KJ the Keeper: "You have arrived, with only seconds to spare."
Rossulous Maximus: "Seconds to spare?? You knew of the bomb?"
KJ the Keeper: "Yes. It was necessary to insure your prompt arrival. Fear not, for I have deactivated it."
Rossulous Maximus: "You are most... uh... kind. Now, you must know my purpose in being here, yet you look not dressed for combat?"
KJ the Keeper: "Combat we shall not engage, but ritual rather. Join with me in the most ancient dance of The Sale and The Title."

What happened next must not be spoken, for it is a sacred ritual passed down through the ages...

-- Break of character --

Okay, I thought I was going to finish this thing and talk about the registered importer meeting me for vehicle inspection and the border crossing that took 4 hours because the computers broke down and the triumphant return to Seattle, but this has dragged on long enough (despite it being really fun to write), so without further ado, I present to you the fruit of our adventures, a rare feast for your eyes, a most noble vehicle: the diesel, the 4 speed, the 1988 Toyota Land Cruiser!!!!!


And there was peace throughout the land.

Battling the Giant

We left our heroes with their sights on the horizon, speeding off into the great unknown, enemies in hot pursuit. However, thanks to the speediness of their trusty steed and the skillful driving of Dashing Dave, they arrived at their destination without a challenge. Little did they know that the monster awaiting them sufficed to set even the boldest adventurer aquiver.

As they pulled into the small town of Chilliwack, everything seemed peaceful and quiet on the surface. Coming to a halt at a neighborhood curbside, they could scarce believe their eyes as they spied the object of their affections seated pleasantly across the street. Emerging from their transport, they started toward their coveted prize with eagerness, only to be met by a rumbling, "WHO GOES THERE??"

Chivalross: "Tis I, Chivalross, here to sweep fair maiden off her feet and return her to the pedestal that she belongs upon."
Jeff the Giant: "Jeff see... well... you come at good time. She many beautifuls and run like deer. You speak her. You give Jeff monies."
Chivalross: "This seems easy... a little tooooo easy. I was expecting a fight. What do you have up your sleeve?"
Jeff the Giant: "One arm. Each side. What you mean?"
Chivalross: "Never you mind. But know this, giant, I'll be keeping my eyes on you."

The excitement built as Chivalross approached the maiden. Yet as she turned around, he was overcome by horror!! This was not the ravishing beauty praised by the muses in song, but a hideous, rusty, old witch!! Her flesh was tainted, scoured and giving way to bone and hollow recesses the sight of which chilled our hero to the bone. Unlikely as it may seem, our hero and Dashing Dave had let their guards down at the shock of the sight before them just long enough for Jeff the Giant to sneak up behind them. They were whisked off their feet, hanging from their collars in the hands of the giant before they even had a chance to bust out some reflex break-dance fighting moves. "Now we all go nice walk. You like girl. You give money Jeff."

Admittedly, the witch had a soothing voice and kept pleasant enough company, but the enchantment she had cast over the giant was a constant reminder of her true treachery. Given no other alternatives, Chivalross made conversation, enough to learn that the witch had spent much of her time in the corrosive Saltlands of Vancouver. But even as he pretended conversation, he was plotting their escape and thinking to himself, "It's a good thing we keep changing our names, or these bad guys might track us down!!"

Without loosening the strength of his grip one newton, Jeff the Giant demanded his bounty of 9,000 pieces of eight... err... dollars. And that's when Chivalross sprung into action. Blinding Jeff with an outrageously small offering of cash, he stunned the giant, rendering him speechless and causing him to swoon in delirium. As the witch sat patiently in the driveway, waiting for her minion to carry out her dirty work, Dashing Dave and Chivalross dashed across the road, into their waiting autocarriage... really great pirate landship... Batmobile... toyota pickup... And picking up speed, they blazed away from Chilliwack, never looking back.

(...except for the stop they made at this really good pub. Chivalross would recommend the buffalo chicken wrap with delicious steak fries. Canadians sure know how to do fries.)

And so they set off again, with their eyes to the road and discouragement at their backs with only the promise of a brighter this-afternoon to beckon them on...

To be continued...

Fleeing from the Mounties!

This weekend saw your hero (in case you forgot, that's me... at least on this blog) face-to-face with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. As they brutally interrogated him, he responded coolly, without hesitation and with great confidence in his voice.

Evil Max the Border Guard: "Why are you coming to Canada?"
Ross the Avenger: "To liberate a damsel in distress!"
Evil Max the Border Guard: "How much currency are you transporting?"
Ross the Avenger: "Enough to free said damsel, 85 hundred U.S.! Now, HAVE AT YE!!!"

Your protagonist then proceeded to slay the villain with a swift ninja-kick to the trachea, delivering him into the next life with a painless farewell and a stunned expression on his face.
As the dust settled, the hero hearkened back (heroes hearken frequently) to earlier in the day, when he held up a bank...

Savage Scott the Bank Teller of Bellingham: "You need this much cash... why??"
Masked Man: "My reasons are my own, but know that you will be serving a most noble purpose!"
Savage Scott the Bank Teller of Bellingham: "Uh... we usually don't just hand out cash. Do you have an account here?"
Masked Man: "I have not the time for your pithy responses. Your lack of chivalry overwhelms me. You leave me no choice."

As you have distilled by now, the Masked Man in question was indeed our would-be rescuer forced into the realm of crookery by the sheer magnitude of his quest and the exorbitant costs of medical education. Minutes after the above exchange, the smoke began to dissipate, leaving only a few scattered bills softly drifting to the ground still and a smattering of bank clerks hog-tied and gagged with various currencies, deposit slips and advertisements for loans that would make the whole family happy.

As our famed avenger un-hearkened, he thought to himself, "I have no time for daydreaming. My fate awaits me miles ahead."

The storyteller would be remiss to neglect an important character in this tale. You may be wondering... how could one man dispense with multiple bank tellers in the brief span of a giant smoke bomb? Indeed, he was not alone, and as our hero sequentially incapacitated each unsuspecting worker, Daring Dave the Diligent was busy entangling them in his devious webs and stuffing paper in their mouths. And if not for the brilliant distractions of Daring Dave, Evil Max may well have seen coming the ninja kick from Ross the Avenger in time to avert his trachea.

As Daring Dave and Ross the Avenger sped down the highway, leaving a wake of destruction and children holding flowers behind them, they gazed ahead with grim expressions, knowing the Mounties would be hot on their tail.

To be continued...

What We Crave

Last winter I had a transcendent experience in the Wrangell-St. Elias mountains that reminded me of a freedom I had thought lost upon moving to Texas. I can't explain the nature of that freedom or how it felt different from any other unburdening my soul had experienced previously. Two snapshots ebb and flow into each other with the same energy and emotion:

My last night in Alaska. As a farewell to our childhood home and in a sense, to childhood itself, 3 friends and I set off north along the coast at the end of the North Road in late summer. Firecrackers, hot dogs, marshmallows, and some pure sodium metal (which is REALLY cool in water) in our packs. We road our bikes until civilization was long gone and commenced with our evening entertainment. As the sun set and the stars came out, we folded out our sleeping bags on the beach and watched the meteors rain down in a salute to a childhood well-lived.

My return to Alaska. "...the great white silence, not a snow-gemmed twig aquiver/ eternal truths that shame our soothing lies..." A line from Robert Service that bubbled up as I trudged along the frozen river at 20 below. I knew a warm fire awaited me, but in the moment, the air sparkled, the trees shone and the mountains rose up to meet the sky all around me. A time spent away had only heightened my longing for the pure tranquility of absolute focus on and unity with beauty.

This week I made a declaration, to myself at least, that I officially do not like Seattle. And yet as I sit outside Chocolati with the face of a robustly blooming cherry tree beckoning me to appreciate the landscape: the lake, the evening colors, the industrious exercisers, I am reminded of the same sense of freedom. And I realize that my surroundings do not dictate my joy, nor my tranquility, nor my sense of place in the universe. It is rather my acceptance of life and the willingness to fully engage all that it persistently and patiently offers.

It is in these moments that I find peace, purpose and the gentle, loving touch of my Creator.

Going out in a blaze of glory

My last post was written in response to an assignment on death and dying. We were supposed to reflect and write about our role as a physician in the face of death. I realized that my perspective on death was shaped dramatically by my experience with Grandma. In some ways, I'm still processing her passing. Unlike others who I have known and are no longer here, it feels like I could still go visit her. It doesn't feel like she's really gone.

Yet writing that still chokes me up and brings tears to my eyes in the midst of a crowded coffee shop.

I had another moment of self-realization today in our clinical medicine class. Our professors invited a lady with metastatic breast cancer to be a patient in front of the entire class. A psychiatrist interviewed her, demonstrating for us a proper psychiatric evaluation. She seemed perfectly healthy, but death loomed in her eminent future. It made me think of my own mortality and how I would respond to terminal illness.

My dad used to say if he ever knew he was on his way out, he'd just fly his airplane into the side of a mountain out in the wilderness. I tried to talk him out of it... no reason to waste a perfectly good airplane. He said I had a good point.

He did too, though. I don't want to languish. Faced with terminal illness, I would not want my last years/months/weeks spent in a hospital scraping for life. There are stories of terminal patients smuggling Bibles into closed countries, risking execution to bring good news to the oppressed. That's how I'd want to go out. I don't necessarily want to smuggle Bibles, but something along those lines would be sweet. Our ambitions for greatness aren't always out of pure motives, but somehow, there is a certain romance about giving your all, even if your all will soon be taken anyway.

I suppose it has something to do with this:

"Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." - John 15:13