A Spinning Top and Canine Belly Rubs

on embracing ambiguity, and charging to 80%

Good morning, Blue Roomies!

As a writer, there’s really nothing more gratifying than someone taking to heart something you’ve written. My friend Edward Goode of Imago Scriptura has been writing and photographing his way through Hope: A User’s Manual for the last couple months, posting a response to each of the 40-something reflections in the book. What an incredible project!

Disclosure 1: I’m one of those people who finds it cringey to revisit things I’ve written. I always see stuff I wish I’d stated differently. So Ed’s generous reading has been a real gift to me. And his photographs are a visual feast. You may recall my sharing this one a few weeks ago, which still astounds me:

Disclosure 2: I’m a confirmed cat person, but Ed’s dog Scout is a true contemplative, a sage in canine form. You’ll meet her below.

Anyway, I’m in serious crunch time at the moment, plugging away on the new book, so Ed graciously offered to let me cross-post two of his reflections. One’s more serious, the other lighthearted… though the “lighthearted” one includes an insight that had me smacking myself on the forehead V8 style (does anyone remember that reference?).

And be sure to check out his complete work at Imago Scriptura. You’ll be very glad you did. (Bonus: he’s a fellow Carrie Newcomer devotee and Lord of the Rings supernerd)

Take it away Ed!

~

Trauma = Pain + Confusion

To paraphrase Daniel Pink, we’ll choose false certainty over genuine ambiguity any time.¹

I adore Christopher Nolan’s movies. I love the way that he crafts his stories and how so much in his films is not about certainty, but about ambiguity. This is evident in Memento, The Prestige, Interstellar, Tenet, and especially in Inception. Without going into all the craziness that is Inception, the movie ends on an incredibly ambiguous shot. A zoom-in of a top spinning and the tiniest hint that it is about to stop. Here’s the video of it (video starts without showing what comes before for those who haven’t seen the film)

Some people HATED the ending because it is so ambiguous and things are not neatly wrapped up at the end. I’m one of those who loved it. I love the openness of it and the ways that it opens up more questions than gives firm answers. I have shared many times in recent years that, in the 30+ years that I have been actively trying to follow the way of Jesus, that I feel more secure and solid in my faith today but I allow myself to sit with far more mysteries and unknowns today.

I know I am going a bit away from what MaryAnn writes in this chapter (a bit of out-of-context taking of the quote above) but this is something that I think is so important for us to grow into. It is comforting in some respects for everything to fit into simple a-or-b, this-or-that categories, but it feels more and more like that’s not the world that we live in. The world is so much more of a spectrum and things fall along those spectrums. We ask big questions of God, the universe, and of others and often we find that the answers are “this is the best understanding we have right now.”

That may feel unsettling, but I find hope in that. I find hope in that there’s more to understand, more to experience, more to see, more to learn. There is more truth, wisdom, and beauty out there for us to receive, chew over, integrate, and share. Some may think that this is a new idea, especially within the church but, in fact, it has a long history within the realms of Christian mysticism such as the anonymous writing known as The Cloud of Unknowing or the visions of other mystics such as Methchild of Magdeburg, Julian of Norwich, Catherine of Siena, or Hildegard of Bingen. It has been picked up in recent years by people such as Fr. Richard Rohr, Watchman Nee, and Teilhard de Chardin.

Maybe that’s why I love the fog so much when I’m out in the mornings. I love the times where there is the small wisps of fog but I really love when the fog is so thick that you really can’t see a whole lot ahead of you. I love the mystery of it and the unique beauty that arises out of it. I love the way that the sun can interact with the fog in ways not possible on a clear morning and that you can see the sunrays as the light is filtered through the fog and the trees.

I don’t disagree with the quote that MaryAnn shared from Daniel Pink, but I do think that our personal and spiritual growth best moves us to a place where we find ourselves with a growing peace with the mystery and the ambiguity - being ok with the top still spinning and wondering whether it is about to fall or not.

~

Low-Power Mode

I fret sometimes when I think about the problems we must face as a society—as a planet—right now, when nobody seems to be at their best.²

If you’ve followed along this far, you know that I love being out with my dog, Scout (who is currently laying on my feet as I type this). Most days, Scout goes with me on between 3-5 miles of walks/hikes. Usually a long one in the morning (2-3 miles) and a short one in the evening (1-2 miles). Scout has been a part of our family for nearly 8 years now and so a bit of math brings us to somewhere in the neighborhood of 5,000 walks for around 10,000 miles. This would be getting close to finishing the 12,000 United States Perimeter Trail. I am sure the numbers are off a bit - some days we were gone and so no walks, other days were shorter (too cold or too hot), some days only had one walk, etc. But we’re somewhere in the ballpark.

So it is no wonder that sometimes as we are walking, Scout decides that it is time to take a rest. This happened this morning - we were about halfway through our 2.5 mile walk and she wandered over in the grass, laid down, and when I came closer, she rolled over on her side for a belly-rub. Sometimes, low-power mode hits, and you need to stop to take a rest and, if you have someone who will do it for you, get a “belly rub” (or whatever suffices as that for you).

Grace. Grace. Grace. We push ourselves so so so so so so hard. Sometimes, we need to allow low-power mode to come on, to slow down, to rest, to restore. And yes, there are still things that might need to happen while we’re in that mode, but can we give ourselves grace and give others grace when we’re not functioning at full-power? And goodness, are we ever at full power?

In fact, on my smartphone there’s a setting for 80% charging. This is actually something that is better for the life of the battery in the phone - not always charging to 100%. It is healthiest for the battery to just charge to about 80% and only once in a while going to fully 100%. So even in our tech, we allow for some space to not be fully “on.” Can we allow it for ourselves? [Editor’s note: this was my “aha” V8 moment. Robert and I own a couple electric vehicles (as does Ed, it turns out), and charging to 100% can be bad for your battery life over the long run. Maybe we can learn something from our machines?!]

So, Scout got her belly rub, she rolled back over and we were off for the last mile or so of our walk. (And she’s still laying on my feet and currently snoring gently.)

If you had to put a percentage on your current battery power where would you be? What do you do to renew?

Grace, Peace, Love, and Joy, Ed

~

What I’m Up To

I’m away next week, speaking at Lakeside Chautauqua and writing, but I’ll be back at the Blue Room next Friday with a short dispatch of my time there. Steady on. And thanks again, Ed! Don’t forget to check out out Imago Scriptura.

1. McKibben Dana, MaryAnn. Hope: A User's Manual (p. 96). Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.. Kindle Edition.

2. McKibben Dana, MaryAnn. Hope: A User's Manual (p. 100). Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.. Kindle Edition.