What I’m Reading: Preface

In the last four years, which I refer to as my “dumbing down,” I have only read a handful of books.  On the other hand, I have listened to hundreds of audiobooks.  My biggest excuse for this literary laziness is simple: the kid.  If I were to crack a book in her presence, she would immediately declare ownership of it, rip it from my grasp, and begin shredding the pages.  Furthermore, when she was small, I mean tiny-small, I would lay down next to her to get her to sleep.  This was for both napping, and bedtime.  I began to listen to audiobooks to entertain myself, often in the dark.

Anyway, it just stuck.  I listen to books any chance I get: cleaning, driving, shopping and working out.  On a side note, I could never understand how someone could read on a treadmill, or stair climber.  That’s a complete mystery to me. 

Also, when I share the stuff I’m “reading,” I am not interested in offering you, dear reader, an insightful, critical literary analysis.  Like I said, I’m getting dumber.  I will share where I meet the author in the work; how I feel about it.  Feel free to post your impressions also, agree or not.

Lastly, this is a really easy blogging topic I can babble on about without much forethought.  I’ll write about books I’ve finished, and probably television and movies also.

Next up: Stephen King’s The Green Mile

T. S. Elliot

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Time to Pay the Piper…

As many of you know, the University of Washington recently declared me dangerously over-educated; I have the diploma to prove it.

Since then, I have been living in the wonderful and mostly imaginary land of, “Grace Period.” During my stay, I would receive notices telling me I must leave Grace Period, but unfortunately, Grace Period is such a beautiful and alluring place, I would simply acknowledge these notices and continue about my day in GP.

In Grace Period, the sun is warm, but not too hot and the air is clean and fresh. Food tastes better; sleep is deeper and more restful. Love is sweeter in Grace Period, and there is much freedom to do what you want to do, when you want to do it. In Grace Period, it truly is a wonderful life.

I’ve been deported.

Much to my chagrin and dismay, the cold, hard truth of the “Real World” has extradited me kicking and screaming. Now… I have to pay for the late-nights, the papers, the bad books, the excruciating classes, the mind-numbing comments from other students and the group presentations. I have to pay for watching my loved ones have fun while I sat at home on weekends reading the incomprehensible written by dead, French philosophers.

I will pay for this: three-hundred dollars at a time… for the rest of my life.

Seaside, Oregon. Part II

Graduation is a funny thing. At least for me it was… well, still is for that matter. One day, seemingly out of the blue, the homework, assignments, papers, reading and even the social aspects of university life just stop. Then, you stand in line for hours, then listen to a lot of blah blah blah, and shake a lot of hands. All the while, literally everyone I know is congratulating me on a job well done. Then there are the parties, gifts, dinners and cards, all complementary and nice. There are even gifts!

Four years ago, I made the decision that education was a life-long endeavor, and that I would go as far as student loans, my marriage and my unremarkable intellect would take me. For me, this means a Ph.D. Education, specifically academia has become not only then means to an end, but a way of life. In many respects, it has been my life for the past four years.

When everyone I know showers me with congratulations and kudos for simply going about the business of my life; it is very confusing.

Dear solitary reader… don’t get me wrong. A baccalaureate degree is something, an accomplishment and a milestone however belated.

Seaside, Oregon Part I

Well… its over. I’ve completed the coursework, finished the finals and graduated. The funny thing is… my brain hasn’t really caught up with my body. Today marks the second week of summer quarter and I feel like I should be there. I need to calm down. The GRE and graduate school will come soon enough.

Now I’m on vacation with family. We’ve rented a house at the beach in seaside. It’s a beautiful place; though the beach is blocks away. The weather couldn’t be better. The Eugene chapter of my family couldn’t make it to the commencement festivities. So when we got into town, we stopped at a park where they hosed me down in silly string. A shower of silly string and bubbles is how this particular clan lets one of their own know they done good.

Now that the actual work for the Policy Journal is finished, I can honestly say I would do it again. Again for the sole purpose of using the lessons learned with the 06 issue and doing it right. In the end, we produced a quality piece of work. However, I shudder when I think of what it could have been had we known what I know now. Primarily, it would have been less work on the back end. Either way… it was both an intensive learning experience, and I am a better person for some of the relationships that were catalyzed in publishing the journal.

Almost exactly four years ago, as I began this journey, I simply could not wait to be on the other side of a baccalaureate degree. Graduating in 2006 seemed farther in my future than I could visualize. The facts, philosophies, books, papers and exams will all fade into the experience of education, the relationships will not. I expect my relationships with the professors, staff and students will remain vivid and organic, always. Overall… I am nostalgic over this closing chapter in my life. My time at UW has been wonderful. My journey of inquiry is has more questions than answers, but the questions are more focused.

Holy Shit... its May!

I can’t believe it. This month, I will finish my Undergraduate coursework, present one of my papers at the Annual UW Undergraduate Research Symposium, and turn 39. Turning 39 is a trip for two reasons. First, I don’t feel 39. I don’t even feel 30. Lastly, and more traumatically, there are no more birthdays between here and 40. Midlife, the great-divide, all-down-hill-from-here… Middle age. Ack!

The more faithful of my readers will notice that I changed the background color of this site. This feels a little warmer and inviting. Tell be what y’all think.

CPTnet
2 December 2005

IRAQ: Most recent reflection by Tom Fox, "Why are we here?"

[Note: The following reflection was written by Tom Fox the day before he was
abducted.]

The Christian Peacemaker Team (CPT) Iraq team went through a discernment
process, seeking to identify aspects of our work here in Iraq that are
compelling enough to continue the project and comparing them with the costs
(financial, psychological, physical) that are also aspects of the project.
It was a healthy exercise, but it led me to a somewhat larger question: Why
are we here?

If I understand the message of God, his response to that question is that we
are to take part in the creation of the Peaceable Realm of God. Again, if I
understand the message of God, how we take part in the creation of this
realm is to love God with all our heart, our mind and our strength and to
love our neighbors and enemies as we love God and ourselves. In its
essential form, different aspects of love bring about the creation of the
realm.

I have read that the word in the Greek Bible that is translated as "love" is
the word "agape." Again, I have read that this word is best expressed as a
profound respect for all human beings simply for the fact that they are all
God's children. I would state that idea in a somewhat different way, as
"never thinking or doing anything that would dehumanize one of my fellow
human beings."

As I survey the landscape here in Iraq, dehumanization seems to be the
operative means of relating to each other. U.S. forces in their quest to
hunt down and kill "terrorists" are, as a result of this dehumanizing word,
not only killing "terrorists," but also killing innocent Iraqis: men, women
and children in the various towns and villages.

It seems as if the first step down the road to violence is taken when I
dehumanize a person. That violence might stay within my thoughts or find its
way into the outer world and become expressed verbally, psychologically,
structurally or physically. As soon as I rob a fellow human being of his or
her humanity by sticking a dehumanizing label on them, I begin the process
that can have, as an end result, torture, injury and death.

"Why are we here?" We are here to root out all aspects of dehumanization
that exist within us. We are here to stand with those being dehumanized by
oppressors and stand firm against that dehumanization. We are here to stop
people, including ourselves, from dehumanizing any of God's children, no
matter how much they dehumanize their own souls.

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