Nathan's Notebook
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Nathan Bierma
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Saturday, October 04, 2003
Three followups to my postings on contemplation: - "Art begins where thinking ends." Alfred Stieglitz, 1910 - I reminded myself, in light of the baseball posting below, that you can't spell "analysis" without "anal." - And this e-mail forward I got this week: A philosophy student died, went to heaven, and found himself before St. Peter. "What was it you did on earth?" "I studied philosophy," replied the student. "Well done. Expound, then, a point of philosophy that will demonstrate truth." Thus confronted with the request, the student felt his mind go blank. For an agitated moment or two, he could find no point he could make. And then he cried out, "At the moment, I can think of nothing adequate, but I tell you what: If you expound a point, I will show you how to refute it...." I wrote in the Trib last year that TwinsGeek.com is one of the best baseball blogs there is for both hard-core number crunching and good writing--an all-too-rare combination. Look at how he breaks down one seemingly simple sequence in the Twins' opening win against the Yankees. Some call it geekiness; I call it being aware of the game's complexity in order to enjoy in on a deeper level than beer-drenched bachannalia. Let's review how Cristian Guzman scored the first run of the game: Farewell to arms: I've always wondered why pitching is so hard on a starter's arm that he can't do it again for four days, but not so hard that he can't do it again on the fifth. A column earlier this week by Eric Zorn on the science of the pitching arm answers my question. More, including a graphic of Mark Prior's pitching form, in yesterday's Trib. To give the Cubs all the luck (ideally good luck) I can against Atlanta, I've been playing the 1994 NLCS (which never occurred) between the Cubs and Braves on my Super Nintendo MLPBA Baseball. I played the last week or so of September to set the stage. The Cubs lit up Andy Ashby and the Padres 11-0 in their regular season finale and clinched the old NL East (and home field advantage in the LCS) when the then-great Expos lost to the Pirates. Against the Braves, the Cubs were shutout in Game 1 despite registering 10 hits against Greg Maddux; evened it up in Game 2 with a 13 hit explosion, including the go-ahead home run by Steve Buchele, my most productive hitter; then blew a 3-2 fifth inning lead in Game 3, surrendering the game-winning RBI to Damon Berryhill with the bases loaded; and just pulled even by battering Maddux again in Game 4 with a 4-run first inning (including a Dwight Smith triple, a 2-run homer by Buchele, and a solo shot by Sammy Sosa), and then desperately hanging on (with stellar relief work by Dan Plesac, Jose Bautista, and of course, fireballer Randy Myers) for a 4-3 win. (It may sound like the game is easy, but I've struggled mightily to move base runners, especially against Maddux, and to keep old Braves Ron Gant, Fred McGriff, and David Justice inside the fences). Meanwhile, in the ALCS, the White Sox just pulled even with the Yankees, leaving Chicago two best-of-three series away from an All-El World Series. Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Note: I've been thinking lately about what to do with this blog; how to make it worthwhile and not just a place to dump links to my other blog, while recognizing that it would take an impolite dose of self-importance to expect readers to keep up with not just one of my blogs, but two. The happy medium may be to try to revive my pre-B&C feature, the Thought of the Day, making it both shorter and more frequent. That way this blog will be potentially worthwhile but not time-consuming. We'll see how it goes. Thought of the Day: contemplation as congruence My query about the contemplative life was unwittingly answered by Eugene Peterson, whom I heard speak on my birthday last week. My report on his talk is here at B&C. But to directly tie it back in to my query, the answer seems to be: yes, I was doing it wrong. "Contemplative" should not mean as monastic isolation, which can degenerate into aimless navel gazing (can you believe that medieval mystics actually practiced fixation on the navel as an aid to meditation?). Quiet moments of meditation still are necessary in a noisy culture, but in moderation. This isn't exactly what Peterson came out and said, although he did tell me afterwards, "It's important not to be too self-conscious ... the emotional experiences [of peace and assurance] come unbidden, they really do." The point of his talk was that the purpose of contemplation is congruence--the alignment of who we are and what we say and do, a harmony of the ends we seek and the means we use to achieve them. This is sounding a little New Age-y, so read the B&C piece for what faith has to do with it. I'd already been thinking, after spending some days back in Grand Rapids, that I should consider and pursue contemplation less as an end to itself and more as an enrichment of an active social life. I should not only say that I don't like the ivory tower approach to the life of the mind; I should mean it. So I decided to make some changes, including joining a sports league, Fourth Church's volunteer tutoring program, maybe a book club, going to therapy, doing more of my writing in the library and other places away from home, and trying harder to actually stop working when I stop working at the end of the day. This may prove to have the endurance of a quickly-discarded New Year's resolution, but it's worth a try. Previous Thought: The worth of the examined life Watched the Cubs last night at Finn McCoul's on Division, nearly fell off my stool when Kerry Wood hit that double. Still concerned about middle relief and Sammy's weak bat (loved his hustle on the near-double, though), but assuming the faltering Zambrano drops one tonight, the Cubs can look to Prior to get it done at home Friday and then either Clement at home or Wood back in Atlanta to wrap it up over the weekend. One of the team's biggest wins in half a century (even if that's not saying much...) Do unto others: So Jonathan Chait of The New Republic, one of my favorite political commentators, writes a piece about why he hates Bush. The foghorns in the conservative commentariat resound in anger. Who'd-a-thunk? In an online followup, Chait points out how the foghorns (along with the typically astute David Brooks) missed the exit for the high road. He also shoots down conservatives' argument that liberals' fondness for Howard Dean and Wesley Clark betrays their senility. Chait says that doesn't add up: "So first Democrats were so fanatical with rage that they were willing to nominate a candidate who couldn't win. Now they're so fanatical with rage that they'll nominate a candidate merely because they think he'll win." As for the high road: "The timing of Brooks's plea for civility is a tad suspicious. After Republican culture wars softened up Clinton, and tainted Al Gore, paving the way for Bush's election, suddenly it's time to declare president-hating out of bounds." Finally: "If Brooks wants to proscribe all Bush-haters, not just the conspiracy-mongers, then what he seeks isn't a higher level of discourse but raw partisan advantage." Watched There's Something About Mary when it was on Sunday night, then dialed up IMDB.com's trivia the next morning, as I usually do after watching a movie. It said the dropping of Ben Stiller from his stretcher at the ambulance door was unscripted and accidental; when it was determined he was OK the directors decided it was funny and kept it in. Tuesday, September 30, 2003
My latest Tribune story: On sister cities exchange programs between Schaumburg, Ill. and Schaumburg, Germany. http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/custom/special6/chi-0309240012sep24,1,759922.story -My Tribune archive Monday, September 29, 2003
My latest Books&Culture Corner: On Eugene Peterson's "The Contemplative Christian in America," a lecture hosted by The Christian Century which I attended last week: http://www.christianitytoday.com/books/features/bccorner/030929.html My latest B&C blog: A second look at the Wall Street Journal's "lucky duckies" editorial, with a detour into social pscyhology's Tragedy of the Commons scenario. http://www.christianitytoday.com/books/features/weblog/030929.html -My B&C blog archive Friday, September 26, 2003
Today is my 24th birthday. I usually seize on such milestones to zoom out and reflect on life (as I did last year), and this seems especially appropriate at 24. I don't know why, but 24 seems like the age where you're supposed to think you have life figured out. In your teens you're clueless; 20-23, you're occupied by college and first-job worries. But 24, you're supposed to be going somewhere. I reflected earlier on my confusion about where I've been this past year (though I do feel contentment with life, which is more important than confidence). But today, in just about the best way to spend a birthday, I attended a series of seminars by the truly wise Eugene Peterson, with my report coming Monday at BooksandCulture.com. That piece will be the best way to sum up my thoughts on a day like this. The second-best birthday present, meanwhile, are Cubs tickets on the last day of the season with everything on the line. My wife and parents and I will be at Wrigley on Sunday to see the Cubs make history. Wednesday, September 24, 2003
My latest B&C blog: Thoughts on eyesight and how our senses can betray us (see this week's New Yorker for a piece on restoring the retinas of the blind). Plus, what's wrong with rhetoric about "educational proficiency," by the lucid Malcolm Gladwell. http://www.christianitytoday.com/books/features/weblog/030922.html -My B&C blog archive Coming next week: my book review roundup. Monday, September 15, 2003
My latest B&C blog: The prison reading of ImClone's Sam Waskal, as related by Rebecca Mead, and some thoughts on Amazon Wish Lists. Plus: myths of September 11, the future of Hong Kong, Arabs in so-called Roman Europe, the overlap between economics and psychology, and the rare collective hope of fans of the Cubs, Red Sox, and White Sox. http://www.christianitytoday.com/books/features/weblog/030915.html -My B&C blog archive Tuesday, September 09, 2003
My latest B&C blog: August news in review and more: http://www.christianitytoday.com/books/features/weblog/030908.html -My B&C blog archive TIMELINE EXTRA Trimmed from my news in review: - Sept. 11 to become volunteer day? - Worm crawls Web - Tickets nixed by bribed officer will be reinstated - Pedophile priest kiled in prison - Alcatraz anniversary (second item) - 7-inch hailstone sets records - First gay Episcopalian bishop confirmed - 1986 Kentucky Derby winner Ferdinand winds up in Japanese slaughterhouse - First cloned horse created in Italy - Record deficit forecasted - Peddler of missile launcher parts arrested - Chicago worker's shooting spree - Madonna kisses Brittany - American human shields in Iraq to face fine - Columbia report released - Peru report released - Obit: Charles Bronson Previous Timeline Extra • Chicago Beat TIMELINE extra extra: My inaugural Chicago sports month-in-review column, which may soon be picked up by the Chicago Sports Review: STAMINA Some eight hours after the first pitch, Aramis Ramirez slapped a single to score Sammy Sosa and the Cubs had a 4-3 win over Arizona. Their line was four runs, 13 hits, no errors, 14 innings, one three hour rain delay, one tying run scored from first by Aramis in the 11th inning, one bellyflop by a trespassing fan on the Wrigley tarp, and still three and half games behnd Houston. And that was just the first day of August. Sports, they always say, are a marathon, not a sprint. It's a cliche now, but no one was around to tell the original marathoner, Pheidippedes, who ran 26 miles to Marathonas to report Athens' upset of Persia, then dropped dead of exhaustion. At least he didn't have to endure a 162-game season. But there was no slowing Mark Prior, who came back from injury last month in a furious chase for the Cy Young, winning five straight starts (including torchings of the Dodgers, Astros and Cards) with an E.R.A. at half the price of gas. Somebody tell him he has a whole career to collect a Cy or four. Would the formerly frenetic Kerry Wood have gotten to a thousand whiffs, as he did last month, without pacing himself? The dog days of August, they call them, as a reminder that only idle days can bring about autumn. (Idle days? The Colts-Broncos preseason finale was the fourth-most watched television broadcast that week.) But the Sox weren't snoozing against the Yankees, roughing up the Rocket 13-2, following it up with an 11-spot the next day. (Then, putting the "dog" in "dog days," they lost in Detroit). You know, maybe it is a sprint. It was for that idiot father and son who charged the field at then-Comiskey last year (see, there is one way to get a decent view at that park); both were slapped on the wrist last month with probation. Nah. It already looks like it's going to be a long season for the Bears, whose sluggish starters found but one sure way to get a first down in four desultory preseason games: kickoff returns. And for the Blackhawks, even though they finally signed Tuomo Ruutu. And for Maryland, toppled in Northern Illinois' third-ever victory over a ranked team. Endurance? Who's hung in there more than Cubs fans, starved of glory for nearly a century now? We paid our respects last month to Claude Passeau, the Cubs pitcher who won Game 3 of the 1945 Series in Detroit, one night before William Sianis and his unwelcome Billy Goat put a hex on the team. But while you'll have to wait another 60,000 years for Mars to get as close to the Earth as it was in August, maybe you won't have to wait that long for the Cubs to get close to a championship. The way their team endured last month, Cubs fans started to hope that it would be Dusty Baker perched behind the postgame press conference mikes in November, rambling on in his trademark stream-of-consciousness, sound-bite defying replies. Just as well. If you're in for a marathon, it helps to be long-winded. - Previous Chicago Beat Thought of the Day: the worth of the examined life Little girl likes her brain. What's your opinion? -Kent Brockman, summing up guest commentary by Lisa Simpson I may have some bad news. The vita contemplata, or contemplative life--which I've swooned over with the sort of dizzyness that makes you start speaking Latin like that--may be overrated. I'm still fond of contemplation itself, which is in short order in modern life. The unexamined life is not worth living, pleaded Socrates to an Athens jury. The actual quote is: To let no day pass without discussing goodness and all the other subjects about which you hear me talking and examining both myself and others ... is really the very best thing that a man can do. ... Life without this sort of examination is not worth living." link In college, as an aspiring writer, I idealized a peaceful, private life of reading and writing, and assumed that after a hectic reporting career, I might be able to withdraw to such serene solitude as a columnist or freelancer, perhaps as a stay-at-home dad. But just three months out of college, when my Tribune internship ran out, I was a full-time freelancer right off the bat. It's been one year now, and I'm trying to take measure of one of the strangest years of my life. My setup sounds perfect, more so than I could have imagined in college: regularly contribute features to two respected publications, the Chicago Tribune and Books&Culture, live in downtown Chicago, my favorite place on the planet, compulsively follow the New Yorker and the Atlantic, with time on the side to delve into the theology and philosophy titles lining my shelf. "Beats working for a living," as John McEnroe summed up his life as a TV announcer to David Letterman a couple weeks ago. But at the one-year mark, just before my 24th birthday, I don't know how much more I can take of this "perfect" life, nor what I should do instead. It's not just the little practical headaches; some editors never return e-mail, some Tribune checks come one solstice after a story runs. (I may be the lone example of how marriage can keep people out of poverty, as George W. Bush envisions.) The uncertainty of routine--that by-product of flexibility and independence--means I have nothing to do some days, and five things to do for three different employers on others. That's petty quibbling--of an especially whiny sort, given the number of unemployed and bored employed out there. The real test for me, I've been surprised to learn, is having to tolerate being with my own thoughts for so long, so often. This is what I thought would be the good part. But until you have the fortune or misfortune of as many days as I've had sitting at home, ruminating, writing, depending on my noodle for company, for recreation, and for a paycheck, it's hard to imagine how unhuman an existence it can seem. I say unhuman because we were created by God to interact with other people, to converse, to have relationships, to gather, to be social. To have peace and privacy at times, too, but as a break from normalcy, not normalcy itself. Other than the people I interview by phone (and occasionally in person), the couple friends we eat out with every week or so, and my wife, it's just me sitting here typing. And although I am an introvert, this can be absolutely mentally taxing. In part because I try to do mostly "serious" reading (as much as the New Yorker et al merit the word). In part because I'm interested in, and thus occupied with, just about everything; I'm a mile-wide-inch-deep type of person, and it's more comfortable (if not ultimately preferable) to specialize in something, to have a vocational focus. In part because the change from social life with college friends to a lonelier life, now that my three roomates and I live in two U.S. states, Canada, and Africa, was abrupt and caught me off guard. In part because my wife and I haven't really found a niche with a church community yet. In part because working from home is a challenging dynamic to introduce to a marriage. I still think I'm better off being at home as an independent writer than I would be boxed in an office and sucked into corporate culture. I know I would miss my current life if I did take a "real" job. And although I wish I was flushing out brilliant books and essays that would justify this lifestyle, I'm reasonably satisfied with both the quantity and quality of my output. Still, I feel guilty; I have the nagging feeling that I'm not doing it right. The contemplative life is supposed to yield good contemplating, but I worry that the lifestyle is instead, at times, paralyzing me, jumbling and even stalling my thoughts. Maybe I'm doing it wrong. Annie Dillard is a writer's writer; she writes in rooms with bare walls and bad views, and says the writing life, properly done, should be "colorless to the point of sensory deprivation." The reason so many writers write about their childhoods, she says, is that "a writer's childhood may well have been the occasion of his only firsthand experience." From then on, writers entertain the "ludicrous notion that a reasonable option for occupying yourself on the planet until your life span plays itself out is sitting in a small room for the duration, in the company of pieces of paper." In this stiffly enforced solitude, with its seemingly numbing tedium, Dillard chisels and polishes words and sentences, and the result is writing that bursts off the page and transforms the reader. Philip Yancey, in his chapter on Dillard in his collection Soul Survivor, says that "people have a glamorized image of a writer's life." The truth, he says, would disappoint them. "We work alone, rebuffing all distractions, and create our own private reality, exploring and domesticating it..." The purpose of this monastic existence is that it yields wisdom of a richness that the frenetic pace of a normal life would render inaccessible. But I've found much truth in this quote from Nicholas Sebastien Chamfort: "The contemplative life is often miserable. You should do more, think less and not watch yourself living." A wise writer friend of mine talks about getting "lost in my interior universe." He says, "If I do write, there's a sense of isolation to contend with; if I don't, there's a self-hatred ... When I put it to myself that way, the choice is clear--isolation is easier to deal with and goes away faster than disappointment with myself." Earlier, I clipped "luftmensch" as a recent word of the day; it means "an impractical contemplative person having no definite business or income." And while "impractical" is too small a flaw to condemn contemplative pursuits, it does make me feel guilty (boy, do I live in an industrialized society or what), even though I believe that good writing can glorify God, as Dillard does. In my case, it might just be some mild depression brought on by a blend of the biochemical and the circumstantial, or the marital discord; but solitude does not seem a recipe for pure wisdom. I'm all for wisdom in a folly-filled world, but how much does writer's wisdom make the world a better place, and how much of it is selfish individual diversion? "Man remains a mystery to himself, and to attempt to elucidate that mystery by delving into one's mind is merely to increase its perplexing obscurity." Paul Tournier, The Meaning of Persons - Article from Books&Culture: Thomas Merton and the monastic life. - Earlier Thought of the Day: Too much cynicism? - Previous Thought of the Day: Poe and The Matrix |
