Conflicted (or, Nobody Knows Nobody)

It’s been a whole two weeks since I posted last- do I dare say this is becoming a regular thing?!

I’m not sure how much of my own personality comes through these (admittedly few and far between) posts, but I’m somewhat of a geek. I’m not crazy about pocket protectors, role playing or World of Warcraft, but I’m a tech fiend, to be sure. The love of all things blooping and beeping was instilled in me as a youngster by my dad, who would bring home discarded computers from his workplace for me to deconstruct, reconstruct, and just generally tinker with until I had them humming along exactly like I wanted.

That being said, my dad’s no slouch either, and so together we’re involved in bringing a huge technological innovation forward. Think “Facebook”, here. Being devout Christians and committed members of our church congregation, we’ve immediately seen the ways our innovation can help in the spreading of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and we had a natural testing ground for the technology. It’s a win-win: the church gets in on the ground floor of a new, exciting technology, and we get a place to put it through its paces.

Since I can’t reveal any details about the tech, let’s just say we figured out how to put the message every Sunday on billboards all over the country, for very cheap or free, in many cases.

So we started testing. At first just with very rural billboards, visible only to our partners in the area… Here’s the rub- the leaders of the church weren’t consulted, other than to ask, “Can we put up a part of the service on a billboard?” The answer to that particular question (if you’re not asking “why would you want to do that?!?!?”) is always going to be “Sure, if you want to.”

Note some very serious omissions there- no mention of a company being involved, no mention of the benefit to the church, no mention that we are an integral part of said company and no mention of the fact that this will be a product we are planning on bringing to market for profit in the future.

This all came to a head when, predictably, some leaders who are known for overestimating themselves and their areas of responsibility were alerted to the fact that we were promoting the church on billboards, and were miffed. Did we use any of their images? Is there a liability issue for using the church’s logo without permission?

This “spooked” the church administrator, who then sent out a group email to ask these questions on behalf of the questioner, who remained anonymous (but only in name- it’s already clear who it was).

From my vantage point, there are two issues here. First, the fact that the nature of the project was not made clear to those who have been placed in a position to make such decisions on behalf of the body at large, and that the church admin decided to pursue this publicly on behalf of an anonymous member instead of approaching myself or my father privately to discuss the issue in person before involving anyone else.

Regarding the first issue:
I’m firmly of the belief that the whole truth should have been made known to key leaders (the “big dogs”, so to speak) prior to embarking on the use of any of the church’s properties, precisely to head off any kind of challenge like this. There’s a phrase that we can adapt to our use in this situation- “When the cat is away, the mice can play”. In the absence of the whole truth, a plausible theory or an outright lie are considered as equally valid, because no one knows exactly what the truth is. Troublemakers know this and use this to their advantage, taking cheap shots and questioning characters under the guise of “making sure the church isn’t adversely affected”. “Mice can play”, indeed. Knowing this going in, you make the pastor and admin aware of the whole truth, and you ask them for discretion so as not to let too many technical details out of the bag. Then the mice can play, but they don’t know the cat is lurking just behind the curtain.

Regarding the second issue:
The admin was absolutely wrong to have responded the way he did, and the matter should have been brought to us privately. The state of the matter is just as attributable to that decision on his part as it would be to the first issue, in my opinion. He needs to be confronted and the issue needs to be made clear that he was wrong in pursuing that line of questioning in group email form when we were very accessible in private.

The dubrub (double rub)- my dad absolutely, positively, refuses to share the whole truth with the key leaders, and has decided to take offense that there is even the insinuation of wrongdoing or intentional misleading on his part, and that the leadership decided to respond in the manner they did. I tried explaining that the way you respond when questioned matters almost as much as what you were trying to do in the first place- if you take offense and call the whole thing off, you’re likely to be perceived as doing something wrong in the first place if you refuse to provide more detail as to what your actual intentions were. He took this to mean that I was accusing him of doing something wrong, which is just a continuation of his strategy in general- ask him a simple, non-accusatory question, and he blows it out of proportion in order to keep it from being a part of any kind of honest discussion. He doesn’t want a discussion, and he doesn’t want a resolution- he tried to pull a fast one without having to answer any tough questions, and when tough questions were asked, he was prepared to drop the whole thing in the hopes that his willingness to “cut the baby in half” (a la wise king Solomon) would force the questioner to flinch first and allow him to continue unquestioned.

Except, I kind of messed that up for him by getting involved and insisting that everyone be brought into the fold, and that everyone be made to know exactly who all the parties involved are and what all of their intentions may be. Now my dad and I are fighting, when all I’m trying to do is help, and all because he couldn’t even be honest with me about what he was trying to do. Look, if we were trying to pull a fast one, the way one might negotiate with a used car salesman, then I should have been made aware of the strategy at large instead of twisting in the wind, trying to make up my own mind about how to proceed.

…And there’s no tidy resolution here, dear reader. I’m trying to understand, I’m trying not to let this make me lose respect for my father, who has never done anything to make me lose respect for him in the past. But this is the sort of thing he would be unequivocally in agreement with me, if it hadn’t been him on the other side. He has always taught me, at least I think, that business and church are separate, and when he pulled a grizzled veteran corporate move in the Sanctuary, I got deked just as much as all the rest of the church leaders.

At this point, all I can hope to achieve in the situation is for the whole trial relationship to disintegrate with the church, and I’ll have to walk around with a besmirched reputation at the church for having been involved with the whole endeavor. Not because we were doing anything wrong, but like a criminal in court, because we plead “not guilty” without offering anything in the way of an explanation, and I wasn’t about to be the snitch that sold out his partner in not-really-crime-but-boy-it-sure-looks-like-it-if-you-don’t-know-what’s-going-on.

Because if there’s one lesson I’m absolutely positive my father taught me, it’s that family comes first, and I’m happily loyal to a fault to this day. But a lesson life taught me, so brilliantly portrayed in the motion picture powerhouse “Running Scared”, is that “Nobody Knows Nobody”. And that’s something the wise king Solomon, along with Jesus the Christ, really should have known from day one.

Resolute

I doubt I have any readers, as I have not posted with any regularity since the very inception of this space. There is a part of me that takes that personally, as though my inability to captivate other readers with stale content and nonexistent updates is somehow a reflection of my own worth as a writer, a thinker, a human.

The acquired anonymity may yet prove to be valuable. Thanks to the miracle of modern technology, the WordPress community has seen fit to continue offering me a space where I can be both curator and chief contributor, and I can continue posting (or not) at will. As I sit here idling away my time at the office during the slowest point of the year, I find myself missing a regular writing schedule, something I’m certain I’ve never experienced to begin with.

So this is my big New Year’s Commitment for 2012: I promise not to forget that, for a matter of hours before a lunch break in late December, I wanted to try my hand at writing things no one will ever read in the most public manner imaginable. Note that there is no implied promise of regularity, dear non-reader, for I can’t imagine such a commitment would be anything resembling valuable, but the abandonment of such a declaration would carry with it the potential of yet another existential crisis. Which brings me to the real topic of the first post upon my return to “blogging”, for every human on this earth and no one at all, simultaneously: the existential crisis. More specifically, the “big one”, the one I have struggled with for some months now, in solitude. The “big one”, which is also the worst I’ve ever experienced, if I’ve ever truly experienced one up to this season in my life.

Before I describe what has consumed every free thought for the better part of the last year, I’d like to explain, to myself mostly, why I’ve chosen to suffer this burden in solitude. It’s certainly not for lack of support, as I am blessed enough to continue to enjoy the companionship of my two wonderful, supportive, and loving parents. It’s certainly not for loneliness, as my wife and soulmate completes me in ways I never imagined were possible as a headstrong young bachelor. I also have younger siblings, a brother and sister, both of whom have amazing and complex personalities and both of whom I could rely on for anything, though my love for them precludes making any request outside of that which would be absolutely necessary. I also consider myself blessed for having a wonderful and wonderfully well-behaved dog, who has provided companionship and pure, unconditional love to our lives for just over a year now.

I believe the reason for my self imposed exile, until I am able to vanquish the demon that has burdened my thoughts, feelings and emotions for the last months, is because of the effect it has had on me. Though I’ve always considered myself a philosopher, ready to consider the deepest meanings of life, love and the human condition, I have never encountered a thought that rattled me to my core. I have never encountered a thought that inspired fear- real, horrifying, dread, until now. Though I have prided myself on my ability to stay strong, cool and composed in the most chaotic circumstances, my appreciation for the ironic never led me to consider the possibility that my nature would buckle under its own weight in the rote, quiet stillness of a good life.

My father’s early life was the stuff that inspires Oscar winning dramas- abandoned by an escort-by-trade mother, acquiescing to the pressure from his influential-but-corrupt father, adopted by acquaintances of his mother’s who, sensing an opportunity, provided a roof and provisions in exchange for his servitude. I can’t help but imagine that this man, who overcame even those circumstances to become as loving, loyal and successful a man, husband and father as has ever graced the face of this earth, did not pass on some of that unquenchable fire to his children. You can see it in our resolve when we are told, by life or by man, that we “cannot” do something. You can see it in the way we tirelessly strive to improve ourselves and our surroundings, not for any compensation but the intrinsic realization of having contributed something to our surroundings and fellow humanity. This is surely also attributable to the presence of God, and the Spirit that inhabits our souls, instilled and inspired by the teachings of our parents, but my father was a fighter and survivor before he came to know the Savior.

That very spirit, that “hero complex”, is what lies behind the instinctual response to my existential crisis- I am protecting  the loved ones that have striven to protect me for all of my life.

Though I have less than nothing to complain about today, my life has not been as charmed as it might lead others to believe. As a teenager, continuing to grow in my faith and my studies, I fell in love with a beautiful young woman who attended the church where I worshipped and served. We carried on a relationship through high school graduation with every intention of spending the rest of our lives together, in the way young people make plans assuming life will always be as it has always been while knowing the very notion to be untrue and unreliable. Then, one fateful January day in 2001, she was ripped from our lives. Within the course of a few hours, the person I had come to rely on as my best friend and companion was gone, without a goodbye, without closure, simultaneously without finality and with the ultimate finality. My instinctual reaction was to be strong, to attack the pain, to work tirelessly to win the battle I knew I never could.

I tearfully and sincerely prayed for the resurrection I was convinced was fully within God’s power, ready for science to explain it away as a misdiagnosis or a dream or some heretofore undiscovered medical condition.

I slept.

I wrote her a song. I rehearsed the song with my friends and fellow musicians, and prepared to perform it at her funeral.

I prayed again, asking for all the things anyone ever asks of the Almighty when grieving outwardly but inwardly winking and reminding God of the resurrection He could perform, that had formally been requested and just making sure He got the message.

I designed the program for the memorial service, and poured myself into that work as though the effort itself could help bring her back…

And then it was over. I was alone.

Sure, I had friends, and good ones, and the most loving family anyone could ever ask for, but it was the literal manifestation of the feeling of being “alone in a roomful of people”.

And I went through Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief like a street racer collecting checkpoints, criss crossing the emotional spectrum and hitting each one with the enthusiasm of a punch-drunk street fighter sensing a weakened opponent.

And then that was over, and whatever I had left became my life. Like a 4 cylinder subcompact with a blown spark plug, I continued to run but I knew something was missing, and wrong, and it was never going to come back on its own. In my case, of course, there is no AutoZone of the soul, and I went on because life just goes on. It’s just what life does.

And then I started setting goals. Small ones, at first, then larger ones. Then I got a good job that I hated, and made beautiful but superficial friends, and learned to cherish the time I could spend with my good friends and my family. And life went on, and I met a beautiful woman who loved me, and loved spending time with me and my family, and we were married. And I got a better job, and a better life, and we inherited some money for our first house, and life was good. Life stayed good.

And then “it” hit. Finally, and forcefully, dear non-reader- the very crisis that inspired this post that you have dutifully been not-reading to this point:

I have been consumed by what happens when we die. Even just typing the words sends shivers down my spine. There is my death, which is as personal as it gets, but it strangely doesn’t move the needle much. Sure, I believe there is a God and that though we are wrapped in frail humanity, the “us” is actually a spiritual being that inhabits our meat bodies which will one day fall away and allow us to live in spirituality for eternity, or at least just move on to another existence… But I don’t know that for sure, and neither do you, and neither does anyone. We’re all in the same boat there, so I’m OK with that, and I’m OK with seeing what happens… as long as something happens. The thought that maybe nothing happens, that maybe we just expire and there’s darkness… Not even just darkness, but less than darkness… nothing… no thoughts, no feelings, no sensations, no awareness, no consciousness, but just what happens when we sleep or are knocked unconscious… that scares me. That frightens me. That instills such a sense of dread in me that my stomach turns into knots and I find it hard to keep my composure.

But that’s just me, and maybe I’m looking down into the abyss and overthinking it when there is so much living left to do, and maybe I can just forget about it because there’s nothing that I can do about it anyway…

And then I think about what will happen when my father dies. And just knowing that it will happen makes me sick. It frightens me and saddens me and it’s only a thought, a mere possibility… And then my mother. And what happens to either of them if the other goes first? And what will we do? Who will I go to football games with, and ask advice, and argue politics with, and share my life with… And then I want to cry. But I won’t, because I’m strong and I’m at work and I’m a man that makes fun of men who cry.

And then what if my sister dies? My Brother? Just typing the words… I don’t want them to, but I’ve seen how this movie ends. I’ve played this game and there’s nothing you can do to keep the princess from being captured, you just get to see it happen and then play the levels that come after it.

What if my wife… more accurately, what will happen when my wife… I don’t want to explore this anymore. But I feel I have to.

Just putting this much down has been so therapeutic, but I’m looking my demon right in the face and it’s ugly. And it smells horrible, like a mixture of BO and sulfur, and its breath is hot and it’s uncomfortable. And it’s a coiled snake, ready to strike, only I know it won’t because I’m already poisoned. In that sense, I guess it’s not so much a coiled snake as it is a resting snake. Only it’s not resting, because it’s just… waiting. It’s waiting for the poison to finish its work, it’s waiting for me to stop breathing so it can take my carcass. And so I’m staring right in its face and it knows what’s going to happen, and (now) I know what’s going to happen, but I don’t know what it’s going to be like and I don’t know how the poison is going to feel if I see somebody else I care about get swallowed up first.

And then I think of death’s sting, and how Jesus overcame it… and it quenches some of the fire that is raging in my heart. It makes me think maybe, even though it doesn’t say you won’t be stung, the passage means that it at least won’t sting. And then the grave has no victory. And that means that even though it gets to sting you, it didn’t even hurt, and we don’t even stay that way so the snake gets to watch us go unconscious, and it swallows us, but then Crocodile Jesus Dundee comes and cuts the snake open and then we’re saved but unconscious but uneaten, and then maybe we come out of it okay in the end.

And then I hope with all of my heart that that is what happens, because otherwise, what a horrible cruel joke to play on humans. We are all going through the same things, even if we don’t stop to think about it, or don’t have the capacity to consider it, and we all know the snake is there, even if we don’t want to or can’t look it in its face.

And that has been my crisis. And I don’t want to share it with anyone but you, dear non-reader, because I’m afraid I’ll inspire others to turn around and look at the snake waiting for them to die and then they will be sad and confused and full of dread like I have been.

And I’ve searched online for an answer- maybe I’m sick. Maybe I have a mental disorder that makes me think this way, maybe I’m depressed or suicidal or both and maybe this is how it is manifesting itself… but I have mainly found other people looking for the same answers. Occasionally I see experts, or at least self-identified medical professionals, respond to these seekers with their professional opinion, but I’ve never seen anything offering anything of more substance than “it’s called being human, deal with it”.

So while I continue searching, I keep feeling like I already have the answer, but I’ve never stopped to consider just how beautiful it is that there is a God above who has created us and loves us and wants us to live a good life before we cross over and join Him in the next phase. And if it isn’t true… I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to consider what happens if I just go unconscious, because it sucks and it makes me feel sad and angry and powerless and I don’t like feeling that way.

But mostly, dearest non-reader and imaginary friend, I thank you, and by extension the framework that WordPress and the active WP community has built that allows you to exist in my mind, for allowing me to put to digital paper what has been plaguing my innermost thoughts and feelings.

I now, for the first time in months, feel a sense of “okayness” with this all, and a bit of comfort. And a bit hungry for actual food. And hope.

And that is something I wish I could give any real reader that may be reading, because it truly is the sweetest feeling we can ever have on this miserable rock, floating out in the middle of nowhere.

And just in case you are a real reader… thank you. For reading this, for making this about more than just me… and I sincerely hope you find what you are looking for.

Music Review: Rhymefest Dangerous 5:18 (Pre-album)

Rhymefest's latest mixtape "Dangerous 5:18"

Rhymefest's latest mixtape "Dangerous 5:18"

I’m happy to kick off the first official Music Review from FadHawk with the release of Rhymefest’s “Dangerous 5:18″ Pre-Album / mixtape.

First things first: Rhymefest does use profanity, and explores certain adult themes (though admittedly not perversely, as hip-hop has been known to do). Children and the faint of heart should probably skip this one.

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Things I Hate (but feel like I shouldn’t): Reality TV

First official post of Fad Hawk! Let’s get right to it:

Welcome to the first edition of “Things I Hate (but feel like I shouldn’t)” #1: “Reality TV”.

So I take the wife and brother to a local Hookah bar last night, and am immediately assaulted by the big screen TV in the corner. It’s not playing sports, or music videos, or even MMA (::shudder::)- it’s set to MTV and its latest darling, “Jersey Shore”. Not only is the program an assault on my sense of decency, I honestly believe it poses a Medical Risk- I fear I may roll my eyes so deep into my brow that they get stuck. Read on, after the break…

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Welcome

Welcome to Musings of a Fad Hawk! My first blog is born out of thoughts that have grown too large for Twitter, and too deep for Facebook. (TWSS block)

So here’s to the beginning of some beautiful conversations with you, Citizens of the Internet!