I was thinking I would state what this post is all about “right out” at the beginning of this post, but then I realized it would be better to get as much fun out of this as possible, leading you guys down the dramatic pathway of blog posting. (Well, dramatic pathway/trail/byway/highway/beltway is a bit of a stretch seeing as this blog never has been all that dramatic in the first place. It would be rather presumptuous of me to suddenly assume my mediocre writing could elicit the emotion of drama in your collective hearts. Work with me here.) I’ve also been thinking how to best phrase this post, because the subject dealt with here is a rather sensitive one. I’ll try to walk the line here and make this work.
I’m on the fourth floor of the science hall at St. Thomas, and I realize that having a sit down in the bathroom would be advantageous to my current condition. About two minutes later, I flush the toilet. Something is not right. Not right at all. Where I am sitting suddenly feels very very warm, much like the warmth you feel from anesthetic, just before you lose consciousness. I did not pee on the toilet seat, I think to myself, but anyhow. Yes, everything is A-OK there. I am 21, and luckily still know how to correctly use the bathroom. What on earth is going on? I wonder, almost aloud.
Time out real quick. You may or may not already know what’s going on here. If you do, I’ll be awfully impressed - the answer, like the answers to many difficult questions, is fiendishly simple yet rather unexpected. Also, you may find yourself wondering why I am bothering to write this at all. Well, I am an easily fascinated person … I find I get the most out of life that way. (Ok, well it’s not on purpose, but it’s an idiosyncrasy of mine so I can rationalize it, right? Right. It works for me.) So, this incident happened to surprise me. It may not surprise you. If it does not surprise you, I will find that surprising, which I guess makes sense because if you are not surprised you will be surprised that I find this incident surprising in the first place. Mais je m’ecarte.
So, wondering what on earth/the heck happened, I flush again. Once again the warmth. This time, I noticed something strange. If I am not mistaken, there’s steam rising from the toilet. No way. I put my hand down near the water. It’s … hot. The toilet has been hooked up to the hot water line. The steaming toilet is connected to the hot water. Hot water flows through the toilet. Don’t expect cold water from this toilet, because this is the toilet that uses hot water. It’s been like this for 9 years. I’m investigating further tomorrow.
During a long hill climb on my run tonight, a passing car came up from behind me and snapped me out of my runner’s reverie. I looked up from my shoes to see no parking signs marking off the distance to the summit of the hill, above which the sun illuminated the sky a blush pink. Suddenly, I saw through it all, saw through it all so clearly that any attempt to explain comes off trite. And yet I’ll try anyway: I realized that my life, no matter what happens, is a gift, that good and bad events are all woven together into something I do not yet understand … all of this and so much more, an eternity in an instant. The event is hard to describe, transient as it was. I think it was what paradise feels like. I don’t believe, bound as we are to the limitations and worries of the world, we are able to experience that kind of perfection for very long.
Like a cactus craves every drop of rain, I wait for these scant jewels of perfect liquid to quench the thirst of my tired spirit. I play a game: trying to trap the memory of these moments, if not a bit of their feeling, somewhere in my crowded head. “Self?” I ask, “Can you remember that paradise is always in the other room, right next door, waiting to be discovered?”
I haven’t heard back yet, but I’m hoping for a “yes.”
Reinventing a company or brand is done from the inside out. This explains why new logos, mission statements, and seminars on “effectively deducing the resource-efficient pathway to maximizing workforce output” are frequently downplayed and rejected as band-aid fixes to deeper problems within an organization. That’s where this ridiculous article from today’s paper about the Presbyterian reinvention (rebranding?) of the Trinity comes into play:
When referring to the Trinity, most Christians are likely to say, “Father, Son and the Holy Spirit.”
But leaders of the Presbyterian Church (USA) are suggesting some additional possibilities: “Compassionate Mother, Beloved Child and Life-giving Womb,” or perhaps “Lover, Beloved and Love that Binds Lover and Beloved Together.”
Or maybe “Rainbow of Promise, Ark of Salvation and Dove of Peace.”
You know, in terms of enhancing the clarity of the Trinity, this really goes a long ways in the wrong direction. I too can spout random words and say they relate to the Trinity: “Screwdriver, Drill Bit, and Table Saw.” Or how about “Antelope, Cantelope, and The Force that Binds Fruit to Mammal.”
I’ve an idea: for incorporation of these new ideas into religious education classes, simply let the children fill out simple worksheets, perhaps in MadLibs style. Spaces left open for nouns, verbs, and adjectives … “You see God as [NOUN].” “Your favorite activity is [VERB].” Pretty soon, instead of the antiquated Trinity, we’d have hip, vibrant interpretations of it. From Susie: “I filled out the Trinity MadLib, and realized that the Trinity is a Pine Tree, Diamond, and State Fair Blue Ribbon.” Utter ridiculousness.
I must leave you with a MadLib, obviously. Don’t read ahead! Ok, write down [Name of Person], [Past Tense Verb], and [Noun].
Take your words and put ‘em in … leave your sentences in the comments. One day, [Name of Person] [Past Tense Verb] to New York to see the [Noun].
