Reading with Ally

  • Probably All I will Say about Fundamentalism

    Part 1 – the long part

    I recently sat down with a mentor to talk about being burnt-out-on-being-burnt-out-on religion. I am at a place where I feel like I’ve read everything on the internet about Christian fundamentalism and half the books that have been written in the last decade or so. I’m really, quite frankly, tired of it all, and I want to move on with my life, but the fundies of course insist that moving on is equivalent to losing your faith, and I don’t want that either, so here we are. Maybe more specifically, each time I think I’m past it all, I find myself questioning, why am I doing X – Activity and it’s usually something related to fundamentalism.

    I needed to talk to a third party. Someone who doesn’t know me that well, isn’t my age, and who takes ~religion and doctrine~ seriously without also being a fundamentalist. You can always find some anonymous person on Reddit to tell you what you want to hear, but, we are ~social creatures~ and sometimes, you need to talk to a real person. So I did.

    The interesting thing about getting out of fundamentalism is that, of course, there is never one problem to solve. Questions about having children are connected to the question of the Dominion Mandate, the question of what-job-should-i-do is connected to what you were taught about gender roles and whether or not whole bodies of human knoweldge have been concocted by liars, and the question of how deeply you engage with things you like to do is connected to whether or not you believe you must continually deny yourself or whether or not you believe God will take something away just because you like it.

    To live that way is exhausting and I’m tired of it. It is even more exhausting to make that statement and immediately hear in the chorus of one’s mind “Cry Out to Jesus” by Third Day (which the fundies would criticize as being too “hard rock”) or the age old hymn “Softly and Tenderly” (played by a virtous old lady on a light oak piano). When you say you want to exit the narrative, you’re still stuck in a never ending loop. You cannot exit the hamster wheel of Church Culture.

    Sometimes I think about blogging about my experiences with fundamentalist culture, but I don’t know what I or anyone else would get out of it. The few times I’ve emailed such organizations (come on AiG, where’s your global flood RAS model) or written reviews about the books online, I’ve been unable to avoid undertones of sarcasm and anger, despite my best efforts to just critique the ideas (not very Matthew 18 of me, eh). Besides, plenty of people have written or talked extensively about these topics, both in the blogosphere and book reviews and of course written their own formal academic books. I don’t really have anything to add except “lol samesies.” I’ve also read the comments that insist the main perpetrators of these ideas are “really super sweet people” and I know, just like me, they are just out doing a job to make money to live, except they do it by telling other people what to do instead of, idk, sizing pipes or something. Alas, there I go again. The world does not need my anger.

    AND, in case anyone is curious, I’m a post-millenialist now.

    Part 2 – the short part

    Well anyways, the mentor reminded me that within the bounds of God (which I took to be Phillipians 4:8-esque), we are free from the rules of man and can pursue God. God will ask a lot of us, but it will be in the line of Romans 8:28; what you are asked to do will be what makes you more like Christ. That will not look the same for everyone. We are free to become who God made us to be. While the mentor used the word “calling”, he clarified that the word “calling” is a term loaded with Christian-ese, and we aren’t called to one specific path, but rather, to be people like Christ.

    The Gospel is simple. We are new creations in Christ and our time on this earth is spent becoming more like Him. That’s really all there is to it. I rest in that, and let the rest go.

    I don’t think the ‘problem’ of this stuff constantly coming up in my mind will go away, but I don’t have to dwell on it anymore. (Maybe it will though, God created neuroplasticity, too).

    The next time I find myself sitting at my kitchen table at 9-pm, scrolling through the James Webb telescope’s Instagram, smashing a Kirkland brand KIND bar in my face and crying over the beauty of the Universe, I can just…enjoy them…and know the images, and the minds that put together the telescope to get them, reflect the infinite power and care of their Creator. That is really beautiful, really nice, and most importantly, really reassuring.

  • February Reading

    After cranking through several books in December and January, I relaxed a little in February. The slower pace wasn’t intentional…really, I just got distracted learning how to knit socks. Now, I have to fit a few rows of knitting into my 45 morning minutes. Really delays the pace of reading. Smh, hobbies be hobbying.

    Anyways, for the month of February, I’ve been reading The Shadow King by Maaza Mengiste and A View of the River by Luna B. Leopold. The Shadow King is my novel for Ethiopia. I’m about halfway through, and liking it so far. It takes place during WWII, during the Italian invasion of Ethiopia. I don’t know anything about that section of WWII, having grown up in the US and therefore more familiar with the European theatre and the Pacific theatre (did you know the Japanese used a strategy called Island Hopping?). There are some intense, although not graphic, sexual scenes in this novel, so it is one you want to be prepared to read.

    A View of the River is far slower paced. It’s something like a very short textbook and contains charts and graphs showing various river characteristics, such as bankfull flow vs. drainage area, how floodplain terraces are formed, et cetera. I picked it up because I’ve decided to get [more] serious about my career and you know, spend a little extra time outside of the work day getting the big picture view of things. As is typical with textbooks, some sections are easier to read than other sections. But on the whole, A View of the River is moving along with a good, steady flow.

    Since we’re already six days into March, I’d better get these wrapped up pronto. Easier said than done when you have your regular job, a ceiling to fix, miles to run, dinner to eat, a cat to be fed (and cat vomit to be cleaned up). But it’s the little things in life, bits of progress every day, and there is no rush or schedule to finish these books. Moving forward, I’m finding books for countries along the route of United Airlines’ Island Hopper…I’ve been feeling those end of winter winters and vibing to the Moana soundtrack and thinking about travelling through the warm skies.

  • Serious Things and Substack

    I guess most people blog on Substack now. I like what I have here and I don’t want to switch to Substack. I’m suspicuous of Platforms(TM); although, arguably, WordPress is a platform. I’m not going to put a server in my basement or get an AWS account though (alternatives to Substack or WordPress), so here we are. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

    I think when it comes to blogging, or writing in general, it’s easy to feel like everything one writes must have a “big point.” High school me could not write an essay without worrying about the eternal fate of humanity. Usually a piece of writing should have a point, unless your point is that some things don’t have a point, but there is a difference between a Point of Cosmic Significance and just Something Nice You Observed. Furthermore, the Something Nice You Observed doesn’t need to segue (segway?) into a Point of Cosmic Significance. The friendly chirping bird in your backyard can be a reminder of God’s creation without also being a reminder of the Persecuted Church and How People Are Sparrows (TM) the Awful Evolutionists (TM) the Problems with the Government (TM) and The Meaning of Life (TM). Whoa, that escalated quickly. Maybe, more on that later, maybe.

    That idea though – the idea that all writing must have some giant, cosmic point – has definitely crippled my writing in the past. The second I start to write, I get a thousand whirling thoughts of things that must be said write now. I start arguing against myself. I imagine all the criticizers and what they are going to criticize. At the same time, I feel like my writing is cliche and boring, what could I possibly have to say that noone else has said, there is nothing new under the sun, nobody will be interested. I go around and around in circles without ever actually writing anything. I am pretty good at finding Big Reasons Not to Write.

    And you know what? All those reasons suck. It is easy to criticize. It is hard to create. Data is cheap these days. Little words have little meanings and a lot of them are lovely.

  • Unfinished Projects

    I have a problem with finishing crafty projects. I tend to get to about 65% of the way done and then put it down for months. I have the same problem at work, too, although there I’m getting a paycheck which gives me the motivation to wrapitup. I’m not sure why I have this tendency; maybe it’s because the fun is really in getting started and figuring out how this is going to go, and then when project execution becomes a grind, I get bored. Or maybe I just get distracted, or maybe I’m just impatient, I’m not really sure. It doesn’t really matter; I get done what I need to at work and these thoughts aren’t about work.

    Currently, I am working on an 1860s 18″ doll dress, an afghan, a puzzle, and a series of dishrags. All of these crafts are those little sort of crafty things; you don’t need them, you can buy them already finished, what-are-you-going-to-do-with-them-when-they-are-done? Why am I spending my life using up this crappy acrylic yarn that has already sat in my basement for a year? It’s just going to degrade and release more microplastics into the universe, I should just trash the whole roll. But then that’s a waste of past me’s $7.00, which I could have invested in a HYSA at 3% interest! Can I sell these dishrags on Etsy? How many hours am I spending doing on these crafts? How much is my time worth?

    The next obvious thought is to realize that the joy is in the doing, not in the done. I’m not trying to make a profit, I’m trying to build a skill and do something relaxing. I’m trying to add a little useful-ness back into TV time. I’m trying to slow down and spend time doing something other than cram more facts into my brain. However, even this sort of thinking has been content-ized. There are so many Tik Toks glamourizing the “slow life.” I can’t even relax and do these crafty crafts without feeling like I need a more productive “slow life.” My knitting is garbage. The Civil War doll outfit market is saturated. What is even the point of cardboard puzzles.

    I think mostly, I’m just happy to have the time to start and try a craft. There have been so many times in life where I haven’t had this time. I’ve been too busy. I’ve been too stressed. I’ve been under too much pressure. And right now, I have the time to look around and think – “You know what sounds like a good idea? Knitting crappy acrylic yarn into a dishrag.” I am celebrating having the space to start. And if they all end up unfinished – that’s okay. They will sit and wait until I have the space to finish them.

  • December & January Reading

    In the last two years, I haven’t read as much as usual because I was studying for my private pilot certificate. Now that goal is accomplished and I can return to my usual volume. I’ve been asked how many hours per day I spend reading. The answer is: “Not that many.” I usually read for 30-45 minutes in the morning and maybe for 10 minutes at night. If I’m on an audiobook kick, I’ll listen to one while I’m jogging (30-40 minutes) or on a long drive (1-2 hours). Usually though, 30-45 minutes a day is all the reading I do. The key is doing that 30-45 minutes every day. And, of course, picking up books that you’re interested in finishing.

    I cranked through a backlog of books in December. Two for the country of India: Samskara: Rite for a Deadman and Coming out as Dalit: A Memoir. My neighbor keeps texting us about energy generation, so I was thinking about nuclear power, so I knocked Voices from Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster off the long-time list. And finally, an aviation adventure: North Star over my Shoulder: A Flying Life. Thoughts (not coordinated enough to be reviews) are linked.

    And so begins a new year. In progress already is Determined: A Science of Life without Free Will by Robert Sapolsky. In the mail are The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, Deep Water Passage: A Spiritual Journey at Midlife, and The Shadow King: A Novel. I saw the Boys in the Boat movie over Christmas break and it had that sweaty academic aesthetic that makes you want to run a 5k and write something smart after a long walk-about in nature. So I figured I’d keep that energy going. I heard about Deep Water Passage over Instagram. Maddymarq had a particularly insightful post about the beauty of the Midwest and she said this book shaped the direction for her life. The Shadow King will be my book for Ethiopia. I like reading books which are “out of season;” that is, it’s cold and snowy on the Great Plains right now, so it’s time to read about Africa. Finally, I got Magyk by Angie Sage to listen to while I’m running. I first read that series somewhere around 2010-2012 and I’ve never stopped thinking about it. So, it’s time for a revisit.

    There’s always the temptation to order more books, but ordering books isn’t the same as actually reading them. All that ought to be plenty of content for January.

  • The End of Aesthetics

    I think the brief Internet Trend Age of curated aesthetics is ending. It’s pretty disappointing; after all, what is more satisfying than a Pinterest board full of assemblies of objects that give “Ravenclaw” or “Dark Academia”? Not much. I dig a Dark Academia aesthetic day.

    Before I moved to the city on the prairie, I thought a lot about aesthetics. I was living in a time of transition. Based on what future job my partner chose, I could have moved to the Southern Great Plains, the Upper Midwest, or stayed in a college town in Indiana. I sat in my favorite coffee shop and wrote a bunch of garbage which I’ve copied and pasted below.

    Now I’ve seen a couple Tik Toks which rightfully attach aesthetic to Capitalism, saying that we promote and keep this aesthetic thing going by buying shit to live our aesthetic. This idea is especially prevalent with the “eclectic grandpa” and “bookshelf wealth” aesthetics, two aesthetics which boil down to doing a variety of things you’re actually interested in and displaying books you’ve actually read. These Tik Tokers criticizing aesthetics as a tool of capitalism (and other stuff, please, just watch the Tik Toks on your own, this is a blog, not going to find a bunch and summarize them) are right, but damn if it doesn’t make me feel kind of sad.

    Tik Tok 1 | Tik Tok 2

    This article says that it’s “ok to mourn the death of social media,” and I kind of feel the same way about this aesthetic curation situation. I’m glad that people are criticizing the “image-ness” of aesthetics. But there’s a sixteen-year-old inside me that still gets excited when I see a Ravenclaw aesthetic board and I feel a little sad that it feels stale. I feel a little sadder to know that the image feels stale because aesthetics have been over-produced; that is, I’ve consumed so much digital content that I’ve been forgetting to do stuff. So all in all, it’s better that people are criticizing these online aesthetics, and the more we move on and do our own stuff, the deeper and better our personalities and relationships will be.

    Idk though, a couple years ago I visited an AirBnB near Point Pelee, Ontario. It was a small add-on to a small house on the shores of the Lake. The decorations, random books and items, were from all around the world. The house was right across the street from a restaurant that had nice sandwiches and beer and it was located a short distance away from a place that served ice cream. I remember thinking that I wanted to have a house that looked and felt like that. And now I actually do, and – I feel – very happy and content.

    the words from 2019:

    I’ve thought about this idea for at least a year now. These are not original thoughts. Many people have thought them before. Thus, it seemed, not great, to waste time corralling this idea into a narrative, because, it is really just a series of questions.

    Experiencing an aesthetic is less exciting than the experience of imagining an aesthetic. Experience is subtle. Experience is uncontrolled. The sounds which create an aesthetic are irregular and we do not choose when they occur. Rain is subject to the rhythms of the wind – the shifting solar pressures of a planet which we do not hold in our hand.

    A friend said simply: “Life is not glamourous. My life as a consultant is not glamorous. Life is not an academic TikTok. It is not a stock office photo.” Marketing packages aesthetic, presents an image, tells others. Marketing simplifies complexity to an authentic aesthetic. Marketable authenticity is an aesthetic which forgets that authenticity is beyond complex. It is messy.

                The grad school English student aesthetic?

                The grad school engineering student aesthetic?

                The flying aesthetic?

                The water engineer aesthetic?

                The dank middle Midwest winter aesthetic?

                The southern Great Plains aesthetic?

                The aesthetic of the Northland?

                I want to feel the aesthetic of the Northland.

                The Ivy League theology professor or the Toni Morrison is a goddess aesthetic?

    How can we differentiate pursuing excellence from pursuing an aesthetic?

    How many aesthetics are acceptable to be combined and packaged into a singular person’s brand?

    How can you authentically brand yourself to get a job without constantly falling into the trap of saying, what aesthetic do I fit into?

    Are aesthetics a new religion?

    Are aesthetics an extension of the postmodern sensate culture of the self?

    When one arrives at phrases about cultures of the self and self-centeredness, it is time to look outward.

    What kind of person should I be, as a Christian, that part of myself which is beyond myself?

    Even then, the summarized sentence, “instead of pursuing an aesthetic, our pursuit should be to come to know God,” has been aestheticized. When I say that phrase, I imagine old men studying books printed with tall 1990s Times New Roman font and the pastor’s wife in the church cinder-block basement, sucking all the fun out of life. In turning from that aesthetic, I imagine awful visits to new churches, the question “how can we serve you,” coffee, Bible journaling.

    I guess what I’m trying to say using the aesthetic of a blog post is that my question used to be how does one get out of all the aesthetics and then I realized today when you are out of pursuing an aesthetic and instead you are totally in a moment there is no aesthetic, there is only what is, and you don’t feel what you feel when you look at an acclomeration of aesthetics, instead, you just feel what you are, and how, who, has described that before.

  • Volume

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    I am going to focus on writing coherently instead of creatively. I have several creative ideas and I trust they will emerge, but in writing my weaknesses are 1) actually doing the writing and 2) artfully structuring an essay to get to a point. Everyone has these problems. I have a lot of good points. But they are difficult to get across.

    I used to not have this problem. Essays were formulaic, like math problems, analogies, thesis, supporting points, crank it out. Short stories were fun, creative, imagine a scene a setting, and make something happen. It was okay to use big ideas. When I got to college, I failed to grow into a more complex writer. I wanted to be a writer, but I didn’t put enough time into writing and I was always distracted with so many other things. Looking back, I probably didn’t need to be involved with as many activities as I was, but at the time you are living, you can only see the present and not the future, so you don’t really know what will matter.

    I also struggled with putting my thoughts into words. Engineering, especially engineering emails, places/place a high value on expressing points with few words, and so I got used to writing very concisely. Usually this is fine, but in grad school, you need to write 20-page papers (which I sucked at), and if you ever want to write a book, you need to be able to crank out 80,000-words. You need to be able to put a lot of words in a box and go back later and build things out of them. You have to have the patience to give yourself volume to work with.

    In engineering school and in working as an engineer, I’ve lost that patience with myself. I want it done now, on time and under budget. I want to know the steps for the project and I want to do them. I want my timesheet filled out. I want – efficiency. Those desires make me a good engineer. But they don’t make me a good writer. They make me intolerant of volume.

    Data is cheap. Words are small. I am not going to be afraid of the volume of words I am capable of producing. There is space for my words in the world, just like there is space for everyone else’s words in the world. And here, on this corner of the internet, you can read them, or you don’t have to. I am not going to make excuses for creating volume.