It’s a broken world that we live in.
       Dragon, fly me away. Fly me so far.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about storytelling. Jared asked us, “what’s your story?” on Saturday and, I think in general, when we hear someone’s story, we like to hear that they are better now than they were at some point in their past. It’s more uplifting to listen to than, “he was on the right track in life, but he fell off and is now completely miserable”.

I guess we can write our own stories in the sense that we can make good decisions, but not everything is within our control. That’s life. That’s why we write fiction, something we can control.

For myself, I’d say that if fiction doesn’t have a happy ending, there’d better be a reason why. There’d better be a point. For example, I could understand if movies like Taken or Man on Fire ended badly for the victim protagonists. Although fictionalized, they are based in reality. It would send the message that this stuff happens in real life and there is not always a happy resolution. Human sex trafficking and child abduction are issues that could hope to gain public interest when portrayed in fiction.

As well, certain books (i.e. The Horizontal Instrument) allude quickly to a tragic ending. But while their endings are not “happy”, they are satisfying. That said, I freely admit that I have a double standard when it comes to realistic fiction and epic fantasy.

I am of the stout opinion that fantasy literature should have a happy ending. Why? Because it is escapism and we have enough unhappy endings in real life. If I invest time into a fantasy story, I need to get that yes! feeling at the end of it, or else I consider my time wasted. Call it immature, call it unrealistic. In the end, I don’t want realistic fantasy, I want uplifting fantasy. Is it unlikely that Frodo ultimately succeeds in destroying the Ring? That Luke Skywalker blows up the Death Star? That Harry Potter defeats Voldemort? That Neo beats Smith?

Of course it is! These characters were nobodies at the start of their stories and they became something great, and we read/watched them do it. I think that’s my main issue with the Song of Ice and Fire series. I was uplifted only once by only one of his many, many point-of-view characters (Daenerys), but that’s about it. All in all it is actually too realistic for me. Beautifully, skillfully crafted, but kind of a downer for something I’m reading for fun. (Granted, the series is not over, but at this rate I could have five kids of my own before George R. R. finishes writing about the five Stark children.)

Kristen and I have spent years and years creating and writing characters. It’s surprising how attached you can become to your fictional people. In a plot that never quite got off the ground, she resolved to have her main and most beloved character die at the end. It was a shock and it was sad, but the reason resounded with me: it would be a meaningful way to increase the depth of that character’s timid wife and young son. In that regard, the death of Martin was not the end of the story, only the chapter. The story itself would carry on.

Happy endings may seem over-done, idealistic or unoriginal, but clichés in literature exist because they work. We like to see adversity triumphed over. People don’t want to spend hours reading a book only to see the protagonist fail or not accomplish anything (or worse, be worse off at the end of the story than they were at the start). If I want defeat and realism, I read the news. If I want exultation, I read fiction.

   He’s broken every chain. And freedom,
  how can I resist? His voice sings out my name.

I love it when I remember my dreams. My mind seems to go through seasons of remembering or not remembering. A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was riding bareback on a lion.

Without knowing why, I see symbols in dreams plain as day. When people tell me their own dreams, a symbolic meaning comes to me, usually without effort, and faster if I know the person (and their life situation) quite well. The thing is, and I’ll be the first to admit, this symbolic meaning is based solely on my own interpretation of the dream. That is, it might be way off. So to say that I hear a symbolic meaning every time is useless unless my interpretation of a dream means anything to that person. That said, I have been told before that my symbolic meanings make sense. The most profound instances are always interpretations of recent dreams. It’s a lot more difficult to see a meaning of a dream someone had a few months ago. It’s harder for me to remember what was happening in their life at that time, and to draw parallels.

Some people don’t think symbolically. I didn’t realize that until I’d done a few interpretations. If you dream, for example, about your child as a baby (even if your child is an adult now), it may be a dream about your child, but more likely, it is a symbol and the dream has nothing to do with that specific person. It is a symbol for responsibility, fondness, dependency, etc. This concept is hard to grasp for some, just like math and directions are hard to grasp for me.

I don’t necessarily like the idea of dream symbol books; I think any one object has a vastly different meaning for different people (and different circumstances). I also don’t think each and every dream is symbolic. Sometimes I wake up and know exactly why I had a certain dream. Maybe it was a mix between two movies I just watched or something. Other times, dreams have a different quality and that’s what catches my attention. The elements are simple, and not merely a regurgitation of things I saw earlier this week.

My lion dream was one of these.

It was a very short dream. Like I said, I was riding a lion bareback through a forest. The lion was not talking to me, but it knew I was there. The ride was not gentle; in fact, the most memorable part of the dream was how turbulent the ride was. I was hanging on with all my might, but never actually like that I might fall off. The lion was leaping and bounding, doing whatever it wanted, and yet I knew it wasn’t trying to throw me off. One thing was for sure: I was not steering it. It stopped on an incline beside a log cabin amidst the dense trees. Out of the cabin, a monster emerged. It was gangly, jagged and black, like a skinny wolf walking hunched on two legs. The lion started to move again, and so did the monster. I didn’t know if it was chasing us or if we were chasing it. I did know that I wasn’t afraid of the beast, but would have been if I were not with the lion. Then I woke up.

I was hit with the symbolism nearly immediately after waking up and recalling the dream. It seems apparent to me that the lion was God, and that the beast was, put vaguely, adversity. These seem to be apt symbols considering my psyche; if my problems were to take on a form, it’d be a beast like that. It was the nature of the lion that made it so clear though. It was in control. It was on my side and concerned for my safety (which is why it was in control, not me). With the lion, I was not afraid. The beast was fearsome, but not compared to the lion; it looked scary and malevolent on its own, but puny beside the lion.

What is left unknown to me is the actual implication of the dream. Is this my relationship with God? Or is this what my relationship with God should be, but isn’t? Is it a glimpse of what I am missing? Because, when I’m honest, surrendering control is hard for me. But, to remember what it felt like to ride the lion… well, it’s just really encouraging to me.

    you knew this had to happen…

May has been very packed with intrigue so far, as always. Between wing nights and frisbee and D&D and Gamma Girls, Mother’s day, Mike and dad’s birthday… well, there hasn’t been much quiet time.

Last week, Wilma Hansen held an alumni BBQ to celebrate its 25th anniversary. I went with Kim and we caught up a bit with the only two others there (at least, that we saw) from our year, Mikey and Dean. My poetry poster is still up in Cathie’s classroom and that is shocking to me.

Lately there’s been some friction between some of the D&D guys and it’s been totally getting me down. I don’t know how to react without hurting anyone’s feelings. Why doesn’t Andy Stanley have a podcast series for how to handle situations in which your friends are having creative differences and are getting very hurt over a roleplaying game? Bah, so crappy. Aside of it all, I’ve been getting a bit tired of D&D in general but now any great lack in attendance will probably be misinterpreted. Oh well, that kind of misunderstanding can probably be cleared up with some good communication.

Other than that, things have been good. Sushi with Kim, Mike and Josh was sweet, shopping with Shailyn was, too, and I finally got to play Harry Potter Scene-It with a huge group. I won!

One last awesome thing about these last few weeks is that I’ve been seeing a lot more of Katie and we’re making good progress in learning French and music together. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself!

  when it’s hard,
    you know me, you know my heart.

Today was Mother’s Day, so we went for lunch as a family and then spent some time at home before I had to go to Gamma Girls. Josh, spending time with his own mom, told me to tell mine that she did a very good job raising me! I relayed that message and she just sort of laughed. “Thanks, I guess, not that I had much to do with that!” I was boggled by this response. After all, I had a very present dad, yes, but I doubt anyone was so strong a guiding force as mom was, especially in my early years. I asked what she meant by her reply and she said, “Well, you and Mike were such good kids. You basically raised yourselves.”

I was baffled at first. How could she think that? But upon further reflection, I suppose I can see how children of very good parents may give the impression of being “self-raised”. Because, what constitutes a “bad kid”? Rule breaking, disrespect, bad manners, (perhaps) attention-seeking behaviour.

Well, I know it’s easier said than done, but parents can control these things to some extent in their children by being clear and consistent. Mike and I knew our boundaries, and we knew what would happen if we crossed them. How? Because first we were told of the boundaries. Then we were told what would happen if we crossed them. Then, if we did cross them, the consequence happened just as promised, every time.

I doubt there’s any one perfect parenting model, but it seems to me that a pure and simple (general) parenting method is to give a child all the information he needs to make a good decision. It probably sounds funny: parenting advice coming from me, someone who has no kids. (Some days I feel like I am still a kid myself.) But my experience here isn’t in using this method; it’s in receiving this method as a kid. My childhood was peaceful and happy and predictable (which may sound boring, but predictability and structure in a child’s life is a good thing), largely due to how my parents treated me. If a child receives attention regardless of whether he obeys or disobeys rules, there is less incentive to disobey— especially considering the attached consequence.

In that regard, a smart kid will stay inside the lines and won’t have to be punished very often. So it might seem like he’s “raising himself”, but really he’s living within his clearly defined world and making good decisions based on the information that’s been communicated to him (and backed up with action, consistently).

    so it took me ’till today to get here.

As of today, I have kept a consistent journal for ten years. If I keep it up for another three, I will have been blogging for more than half my life. And that is just cool. I’ve gotta say, it’s strange and amusing to go back and read about what was happening in my life so long ago.

Today I went to Chinook with Josh to buy a dress to wear to Daniel and Christina’s wedding. I did find one that I like for a somewhat reasonable price. I think it needs a bit more colour though so once Josh figures out what he’s wearing, I’m going to try and get a matching ribbon to use as a sash.

In other news, I think walking to and from the train station every day is helping me get into shape slightly because today I had Edo for lunch and I packed away pretty much the whole plate. In the past I’ve had to get vacuum cleaner Alex to help me finish!

In a bit over an hour, Angie and I are going to start up the first Gamma Girls session and am I ever excited for that. Shaped by the Story was a good program and I’m glad we did it, but I think Gamma Girls will feel a bit more relevant to the girls. It’ll be a different dynamic completely because the boys are meeting elsewhere. I will sort of miss those guys (oh the laughs) but having a safe girls-only environment is important.

This weekend went really fast. Today was a good day.

Hey everybody, when you walk the walk
    you gotta back it all up (you gotta talk the talk)

I’m glad I didn’t run for the train on Tuesday! I was a few minutes late, but when I got to the platform, it was packed and I could hear people saying things like, “how long have you been waiting for a train?” “About twenty minutes.” But I’d only been there a few seconds when a train came, southbound on the northbound tracks and completely empty. I’d say that’s a trainmastery win. Not only that, but I soon realized that we had the cool train driver. The guy who, in the tunnel between Victoria Park and City Hall, gives you the “local” downtown time, temperature, forecast, and wishes you a nice day over the intercom.

All this week and part of last I’ve had a really stiff neck and it sucks. But in some twisted way I’m thankful for temporary maladies like that because it makes me realize that good health is a pretty profound blessing and that I shouldn’t take it for granted. It’s starting to feel better now and I’m glad because frisbee might start up tonight!

Last night Katie came over and we watched the Harry Potter musical. I was staggered by how awesome it was! It’s just a college production, not licensed or anything, but the writing is so, so good. That, along with Wizard People Dear Reader, has to be the best fan-made Harry Potter production ever. And soon when Katie’s done school we’re going to have a lot more fun times, sweet.

It’s come to my attention that I still suck at guitar! I need to get myself onto a practice schedule and figure out how to teach myself because it’s becoming apparent that no one really has the time to help me out. I think if I can pick maybe five songs and then just learn them so well that I could play them in my sleep, that’ll be a good start. Well, that’s been the plan all along and it hasn’t happened. But that was before I could do bar chords, hmmm…

I find it fitting that we’re going to the “Bracing for Downpour” concert at the end of the month, because figuratively that’s pretty much what I’ll be doing right about then. May and June are always crazy busy. Daniel and Christina’s wedding in June is probably the most notable event, and I’m really excited for that one! Of course, the night before the wedding is the youth wind-up all-night LaserQuest event so I’ll have to figure out how much of that I can actually attend while still being awake enough the next day to enjoy the wedding.

Too bad it’s not possible to stock-pile sleep.

   Call your name, and wonder why.

The other day, an old friend of mine who I haven’t seen for quite some time was soliciting for prayer. One of her friends had a very young child undergoing brain surgery the following day.

I feel like my gut reaction to this was sort of odd. Before sympathy kicked in, I felt a strange sense of obligation. As if I knew that if I ignored this plea, I’d be a terrible person.

It got me to thinking about prayer in general. Someone like me who has basically been raised in a church sanctuary has heard a lot about prayer. Yet, for all the theoretical information I have, prayer is still a huge mystery to me because God is still a huge mystery to me. And no matter how much I learn, He will always be a mystery. That is at once unsettling and comforting, a very uncommon mix of feelings for me.

Around tenth grade, like many others, I’m sure, at one time or another, I was stuck with the enlightenment that I’d been praying “wrong” all this time. That year in particular I’d been pretty diligent in bringing each of my petitions to God and leaving them there. To learn that prayer wasn’t about the getting things I asked for (however altruistic) actually sort of came as a surprise to me. If prayer isn’t a method of getting what I want from God, then what on earth is it? It made sense to later learn that it is a way of developing a relationship with God, who is not simply a holy wish-granter, arbitrarily deciding which prayers to “say yes” to.

My prayers changed after that, but another doubt began to surface. God knows our thoughts and feelings, our circumstances and how we’d like for them to turn out. God knows what we’re afraid of (even if we don’t) and what we’re happy about. It is written, though, For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. I could easily grasp that certain things had to be explicitly asked for, not just felt or thought about.

Relationship-prayer meant I had to be explicitly sharing not just my desires, but everything else, too. It felt strange to me to have to form all these thoughts and feelings into sentences and then direct them at God. I mean what was the point in internally verbalizing all these things He already knew?

Much of my bewilderment towards prayer was (and sometimes, is) hooked on that question, really: What’s the point?

In this time of speed and efficiency, I judge the value of my choices and activities based on what they cost me versus what I get out of them. For a lot of things, the payoff is purely internal (a “feeling of satisfaction”) but it is there and, in general, it is immediate.

That said, the mystery of prayer drives me nuts sometimes. Sooner or later, after years of praying for things, everyone comes to the same realization and that is that God doesn’t “say yes” to everything we beg Him for. Or, He does say yes, but not in the time frame we expect. The “payoff” of prayer is not always obvious or immediate. This is not, actually, the aspect of prayer that keeps me guessing. If I really do trust in the Almighty, I need to have faith in His wisdom. Although I sometimes struggle with impatience, I try to remain faithful. I engage in prayer to foster our relationship, not just to “get things”.

No, the huge questions I have about prayer probably try futilely to distill an act of faith down into a scientific formula or equation. This hasn’t worked much in the past, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering…

Take the baby with the brain tumour for instance. Undoubtedly, if her parents are the praying type, they were praying up a storm before, during, and after the surgery on their precious child. Is their any prayer more heartfelt than that of a mother for her child? In every way, the parents have more insight and investment into the situation (emotionally, medically, relationally, etc.) than someone like me has, a friend of a friend, who would have never even known about this sadness but for a quick message posted online.

My main question is, does a prayer from me change anything? I know that isn’t how I should be viewing prayer, but I do wonder. If two people pray for the same thing, something that is in line with God’s will, is the outcome any different than if just one person had prayed?

I’m reminded of one time when a friend of mine mentioned that her sister had a certain type of illness. Another friend, who had a medical background, asked her for more information so she could pray for specific things. I wondered then, would that make the prayer more effective? Have my prayers gone unanswered in the past because I was not specific enough? Or ignorant of the finer details? It was a scary thought.

Then there is the matter of persistence. Abraham persisted in haggling with God over how many righteous people it would take to save a city. He gets God down from fifty people to ten! Have my prayers gone unanswered in the past because I was not persistent enough?

Does it matter when we pray? Will a prayer for the baby’s surgery that occurs while she’s on the table be heard louder than the prayers said the night before?

Some things have so many people praying for them already that I find myself thinking that to pray for them myself would just be adding another drop to the ocean— an indistinguishable difference.

In thinking of the mother of the little girl, though, I put myself in her position. If it were my child in brain surgery, I would desperately, likely hysterically, ask for and accept the prayers of anyone willing to offer up even a few words of petition to God.

Once more, I am brought back to the truth that prayer is for relationship and not for results. I shouldn’t not pray for something because I feel it has “sufficient prayer cover”. Of course I prayed for the baby.

I don’t doubt the power of prayer. My hope is that I don’t get discouraged with it. Even if I don’t seem to be getting the answers I want, I am developing a relationship with God, and that is its own reward. The preachers will say that a prayer should be started with praise. Of reflection on the ways God has already been faithful and powerful. This isn’t to flatter God or butter him up so He’ll do what we want. In part, I think it is a reminder to us about the power we’re communing with so that we will have faith.

“Don’t tell God how big your storm is, tell the storm how big your God is.”

Every shadow you see
        has its own story

Today I’m going to talk about something I don’t like: going on hikes.

It seems to be one of the things that very few agree with me on. I do understand why people like going on hikes, but no one gets why I don’t. And it kind of sucks!

I don’t consider myself a lazy person. I feel at my best when I’m being productive and getting things accomplished. It is this drive that pushes me to do things I don’t always want to do, but do want to get done. So, upon hearing that I don’t like going on hikes, when people assume I’m lazy, it makes me sort of defensive.

I will freely admit that I’m not in very good shape. The exercise I do get has been, for years, less about endurance and more about bursts of energy (ballet, frisbee, DDR, etc). This is probably near the heart of why I don’t like going on hikes.

I distinguish between saying “going on hikes” and “hiking” because really, I don’t hate hiking. I love nature, and I love the feeling of being out away from the chaos of the city. Walking around for an hour in the mountains is great! But that’s pretty much where things start to diverge, because no one goes hiking for one hour. Ever. So around that forty-five minute mark when I’m nearing the feeling of being ready to go home, I know there’s still a minimum of one or two more hours of uphill walking, and then the return trip back to the car. By then, I start experiencing a strange feeling of mingled frustration and boredom. I know not everyone is like this, but I am a strong intuit and a (very) weak sensor: every foresty mountain trail looks the same to me.

By the hour and a half mark, depending on who I’m hiking with, I’m either left behind in a trail of dust (no pun intended) or begging for breaks often. Or, if I’m really unlucky, it’ll be the mix of both where people will walk five minutes ahead of me, wait until I catch up (so they get a break) and then start walking again once I do catch up (and now want a break for myself). From my perspective, this isn’t something fun.

Some hikers will confess that the way up can be a bit agonizing. But, they say, the feeling of euphoria and accomplishment at the end makes it all worth it. I don’t know if my body is missing some kind of chemical or lacks synapses or something, but I have never gotten this feeling of euphoria. What I do get is an “I’m so exhausted I feel like I’m going to throw up” feeling. Usually this is accompanied with a primal lament that this is how I’m spending my free time. As for a feeling of accomplishment, I do actually get a flicker of this. At the “Trail End” sign, yes, it almost broke me but I made it. This feeling usually fades when (nearly invariably) someone in the group suggests we go a bit farther than the sign— I mean, there is still more forest to explore! Gosh, maybe we can look at even more trees! Or maybe we can see the vista from just a bit higher! Cue suicidal thoughts for me here. One leap off this jagged precipice and all this insanity could be over. So yes, it is hard to feel accomplishment when I feel like I can’t take another step and everyone else is not just willing but eager to walk a lot further.

There is a bit of a vicious circle at work, I know. Hiking is unnecessarily hard for me, so I rarely do it. I rarely do it, so when I do, it is unnecessarily hard. After I’ve busted my body and mind to make it up some mountain, given it everything I had and more, I come home and am sore for a week and a half. I tell people that I climbed up such-and-such mountain, and they laugh and tell me to try something challenging next time.

So, there is some of my reasoning. My mom’s convinced that she will one day “convert me”, but right now I have a hard time picturing myself saying, “guys, I have an idea, let’s go on a nice, long, soul-breaking hike! It’ll be fun!”

Gives me the shudders just thinking about it!

Will you lift me up with tender care?
      When you touch me, that’s when I know…
  I know I’m alive.

   You’ve almost drowned,
 you find yourself on solid ground

It just barely warrants mentioning that I’ve been busy lately. That can basically be assumed until further notice which is both good and bad, I suppose, depending on who you ask. A few low-key days would serve me well in any case.

My St. Patrick’s party went excellently, as did dinner at Kristen’s place two days later. Josh and I have discovered mojitos, which are served more often than not with whole mint leaves. Drinks with leaves in them are definitely something elves would have, so thus ends the search for “my drink”. It’s too bad the lime-mint-rum drink didn’t have a more elegant-sounding name, but I’ll revert back to the tried and true Bloody Mary when my yen for a cool drink order surfaces.

We went to Chili’s after church that week, which was probably, in retrospect, a better venue choice for Josh and I for when we are eating meat again (five days!). One or two whole menu spreads are exclusively carnivorous, or as Mike put it: Vegetarian? Not today!

The week continued with archery, youth bible study, a night of D&D campaign chatter (Kalashtar warlock for me, when all was said and done), making curtains for my room with mom, making spaghetti sauce all by myself, having Julie and Daniel and Christina over for supper and game night, youth leaders meeting, bowling, having Banu and Shailyn over for a sleepover, visiting Josh’s grandma, church, nachos with the original afterchurch crew (plus Josh and minus Connor and Dillon), Friends Church with Dean and Lyndsay followed by lunch and shopping and tea in Kensington, dinner with my family and, again, youth bible study. It was a great week and weekend, and I am tired.

Maybe it’s due to some mild sleep deprivation, but I’ve been noticing (for the lack of a better description) that I’ve been kind of stupid lately. Wide open for a joke, I know, I know, but in all seriousness, where is my head? In the past when I’ve had these bouts of mental absence, I’d say things and even while saying them, know that they weren’t right. This time, it’s taken someone pointing out my errors for me to realize. Somehow these instances have been most frequent at D&D but definitely don’t stop there. Hopefully this week I can get to bed early and regain some clarity because this is just getting embarrassing.

Cool things coming up are Easter weekend (thus the end of Lent and the start of bacon), Kim’s art release, seeing Betrayal at Theatre Calgary, screening #2 of Wizard People, and grandpa’s 85th birthday. Hello, April!

As the whitest lace of light
      has led me to this place, where I belong

I got my driver’s license. I realize that being happy about this is like being proud of a normal-but-lazy 8-year-old who finally decided it was time to take his first steps. But, I am happy. Next on the list is to buy a car manufactured just barely in this millennium so I can at last drive myself home from youth group. And maybe even to D&D. Won’t that be great?

Josh said he could tell I passed when he saw me skipping outside the registry. I know I should walk sedately beside my Capricorn man, but life is too exciting for that sometimes.

The intrigue of this week is going to be my amazing St. Paddy’s party at Josh’s on Wednesday. I bought some Irish drinking songs and tomorrow we’ll pick up some Guinness… oh it’ll be awesome. Lots of people are coming and I can’t wait to decorate!