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nate's journal: because i was told to never write anything i wouldn't put my name to.
this is for posterity... so be honest.
all bible references will be NIV unless otherwise noted.
poetry   |    my utmost for His highest
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19-01-04      mlk day

I just had this crazy idea to criticize what everyone praises today. Some wording in Jeremiah 23 caught my eye.

Jeremiah 23:25 "I have heard what the prophets say who prophesy lies in my name. They say, 'I had a dream! I had a dream!'

He goes on to talk about the 'delusions of their own minds' and that they think the 'dreams they tell one another will make my people forget my name'. Anyway, I started realizing that anyone with a dream can get the unlimited support of those who listen, provided they would benefit from such a dream, or at least feel good about themselves. Hitler had a dream, King had a dream, whose dreams do we listen to? I'm not just being cheeky here. What tells us that King's dream is better than Hitler's? Both dreams brought the demise of the dreamer, both dreams fed wars and stirred up tension and hatred that may never go away. History class has primed us to say that King was right, (and that it is your duty as humans to work toward that dream) while Hitler was wrong (and that a nation under a cloud of ignorance believed it). How is History a good judge? What's the difference between the 'general consensus' that Hitler's dream is what Germany needs and deserves, and the 'general consensus' that Hitler's dream was an atrocity that the world cannot afford?

11-10-03      the days are just packed

I regret that my once regular journalistic efforts seem to have gone out with my ftp access. Inspiration... Some days it don't come easy. Some days it don't come hard. Some days it don't come at all...

Well, England continues to treat me well, I'm learning all about everything. Including sweepingly vague statements, evidently. I think I'm slipping. I can think of much to recount, but it seems that the bigger details would make this a travel brochure, and the smaller details would bore you all to death. So stop reading or be bored.

I've noticed something about small details: my life is made of them. It has occurred to me that maybe I'm just shallow, that I simply can't be bothered with the most imposing 'things' that surround me, too big for my eyes to focus on anyway. Anyway, I've decided that if it's shallow, I'll take it. I might be amidst a swarm of very aggressive pigeons, with my back against the wall that surrounds the tower of London, but I'm probably thinking about how to keep my bread and nutella away from the crazy birds. And I may walk an entire block of London wondering how they make cobblestones so nicely shaped and in such amazing quantities. Or maybe I behold a quaint London street, and all I can think about is where the puddles would be if it should rain. And often, I find myself frustrated, wondering how one would go about flattening it all to two dimensions of lifeless colors, draining it of smell, sound, and rhythm, and making it all fit in a 3:2 rectangle. And then the rebel within wonders how to leave some of the color and smell and sound and rhythm in. I spend many cherished hours chipping away at the questions and calculations in my head, making the math work, finding the words to the music, finding the music to the words, putting a face to a name and a name to a face, testing my inventions, writing my book.

But this all happens during everything else. On the outside, I really am enjoying the sights of London, but inside, I am loving the blasting wind up the Thames, that rushes through my sleeves and pulls at my hair and tries to close my eyes. I think that I should enjoy it no less if it was the Sugar river beneath. On the outside, I enjoyed the walk around Lancashire, but on the inside, I enjoyed the walk.



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