Zero Mostel Was Right

There’s something to be said for tradition. In this case I am not speaking of Christmas trees and Easter eggs, but of the abstract concept of tradition. Take the Catholic Church, for example. The Church is an organization that has thrived for millennia, and shows no signs of letting up in the present age. One of the guiding forces of the Church is none other than our word of the day, Tradition (in the Church, we like it so much that we capitalize it). Tradition, as the preserved wisdom and practice of our predecessors on this ancient globe, provides generally reliable insight on how to address current problems. In fact, consulting tradition in this way almost allows those past men and women to return to the realm of the living, if only momentarily, to sound off on what must be done. G.K. Chesterton puts the idea forward quite beautifully in his book Orthodoxy:

Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead.

Do not worry, dear reader (if, in fact, you exist): I am not going to bore you with a long treatise on Church Tradition. I am far too uninformed on the subject to do that. Instead, I wish to apply the concept of tradition to the wonderful practice of self-reflection.

I was looking over my inaugural posts in this blog today (in other words, consulting tradition to inform current action), and I couldn’t help but realize that it has changed a bit over the past year, perhaps a bit too much. The writing in the initial posts seems more lucid, more straightforward, than more recent endeavors. The content, too, seemed deeper and more insightful.

Does this reflect a deeper change in me, myself? Have I fallen off the spiritual wagon, or at least grown (metaphorically) fat and lazy so as to slow the wagon’s pace? I certainly hope not. However, I do sometimes find myself wondering at how a past version of myself would approach my present circumstances:

“Would Senior-Year-of-High-School-Joe have handled this situation better? If this had happened to me last year, would I have dealt with it more gracefully? Could my Kindergarten-self have addressed this problem more efficiently?”

As you can see, I sometimes go too far with this activity. Yet it is beneficial to look back on past problems, if only to recall the tools it took to solve them. I am the sum total of my life experiences. Everything I have overcome as an individual (granted: in my case, not a whole lot) required the cultivation and practice of a certain virtue or grace, which, though it may fall into disuse during easier times, remains in my soul. In other words, all capability and all wisdom which I have known in the past are still at my beck and call. The choice is simply whether or not to tap into them. I am my past selves; they live on long past their expiration date, and into the present moment. So the next time I find myself wondering what Senior-Year-of-High-School-Joe would have done if he were here, perhaps I ought to walk over to the mirror and ask him to his face.

Presently yours,
Joezilla

The LONER.

The LONER

I am The LONER: my solemn crusade
Relies on the valor of one man alone—
MYSELF!—and solely to me is it known;
I fight my battles with no ally’s aid.

I am the Loner, my problems unique—
It’s doubtful that anyone now or whenever
Could grasp the import of my current endeavor—
Thus, I am silent (my comfort is bleak).

I am the Loner—locked up from inside,
I certainly don’t want a listening ear,
A comforting comment, or sympathy’s tear…
Though I grow tired of this liar’s hide!

I am a Loner, but don’t you see why?
Too scared to reveal what I feel in my heart,
With care I conceal it through misleading art.
Pardon my cowardice; pardon my lie.

I am the Loner, but you say you, too,
Bear burdens concealed from every man’s seeing,
And somehow my burdens bear less on my being,
Knowing that similar worries haunt you.

I am the Loner: if absent, not missed—
Yet with my humanity thusly uncovered—
Surprised and elated with what I’ve discovered:
Since all souls are Loners, I do not exist.

Gratia Vitae

Gratia Vitae

When consequence is shirked again,

the future is ignored,

adversity sets in and then

temptation sends its horde.

Life and death are set before us—

choices clearly riven—

and here in culture’s vacuum lies

the gift of Life, ungiven.

Death does not become a land

so chivalrous and free,

so give us love and understanding:

as Thou art, so we.

And spare us, Lord, the tragic pain

of mother and child riven,

and will that nevermore we hold

the gift of Life ungiven.

to those whom culture sold its lie,

direct our hands and heart;

and to the souls whose choice is nigh,

Your wisdom please impart.

And spare Us, Lord, the tragic pain

of Mother and child riven,

and welcome us into Your heart,

where gifts of Life are given.

Someday peace will march through town

to songs of drum and fife…

and joyful shall the call ring out:

Give thanks to God for Life!

A Well of Verse

First off, take a gander at that picture. Isn’t it wonderful? It appears to be a robot that just might be the Iron Giant, putting together a snowman. That, my friends, is what Christmas is all about. Okay, not really…but it’s still a cool picture!

Now, on to the main event:

These little guys came to me while learning and studying Anthropology. They are not particularly Anthropology-related, but Anthropology nonetheless helped cause them to be written—that is to say, I was so bored with Anthropology that I passed the time by writing poetry! I hope you enjoy them.

Three Observations
Branching out
to do Your Will
induces doubt
in me until
I realize
that You know best
and will advise
me on my quest.

Self-addiction
doesn’t ease
the deep affliction
and disease
of heart and mind
that fills the earth
and robs of kind
and guiltless mirth.

Since You dared
to count on me,
I haven’t fared
amazingly,
but since Your Love
came without strings,
We’ll rise above
on eagle’s wings.

Easy As [James] 1 2 3
I’ve always liked the windy days best,
the ones that hit you hard,
and tear through like a pest,
and blow the garbage cans across the yard.

Those days force the lazy into action.
Whether chasing trash cans
or true satisfaction,
their choices must be quick, like the brash man’s.

There’s something beneficial in these days,
blowing hard against us,
forcing us through the maze
and over walls that formerly fenced us.

So if the breeze is stronger than you’d like,
don’t cower from the fight!
Just grin and love the hike—
your yoke will get easy, your burden light.

God Bless, and enjoy December,
Joezilla

Christmasology

I am a student of Christmas, what you might call a Christmasologist. If that word has never before been used, I coin it now:

Christmasology—The study of Christmas and its effect on people, particularly oneself; also, the study of Christmas spirit, how to attain it, how to nurture it, and how to spread it.

It's pretty fun being a Christmasologist. I began my study back in high school. I started a file in a little box I keep under my bed, saving quotes and other odds and ends which might help further spell out the true meaning of Christmas, and inspire in me that beautiful thing that we call Christmas Spirit. I've begun reading A Christmas Carol every year, as that little story is one of the greatest founts of Christmas Spirit that I've found. As I said, I've been at my study for several years now, and although I still have much to learn, I've come upon several important ideas.

The first is the idea of a gift. I realized a couple of years ago (probably way later than most anyone else who has ever given this holiday any thought) how the idea of a Christmas present is related to the original Christmas story. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son…" Jesus was truly the greatest gift ever given, because his life and death gave us freedom—freedom to learn from him and follow him and ultimately be saved by him. I know that this is sort of an elementary idea about Christmas, but I just realized it a few years ago. Needless to say, I was very happy to discover this. God gave us Jesus, the greatest Gift of all, on the very first Christmas. Even a brand-new Lexus can't quite measure up to that.

Here is the second concentration in my area of study, and it's one of my favorites: Santa Claus. Oh, how many pages I could write about Santa Claus! Such a wonderful figure, a wonderful image, a wonderful person! We've all seen him. Perhaps we've even been lucky enough to speak to him. One item in my file speaks volumes about Santa Claus to me: it's a little comic from the Chicago Tribune showing a young 20-something and an adolescent preparing a cooler-full of steaming hot chocolate, and hiking around the snowy city to visit all the Salvation Army charity Santas, giving each one a hot mug of cocoa to warm them up. They see fat Santas and thin Santas, short Santas and tall Santas, realistic Santas and sloppy Santas, a black Santa and a clean-shaven Santa, and after sharing a little bit of Christmas warmth with each one of them, the adolescent says something to the 20-something that cuts right to the heart of the whole idea of Santa Claus.

He says: "I always thought that there was only one Santa, and that it was his job to give presents to me. And I also thought that learning otherwise would be much more painful than it is."

A quote from a man named Stephen Leacock sums up the idea of Santa Claus rather well:
"Now, the essence, the very spirit of Christmas, is that we first make believe a thing is so, and lo, it presently turns out to be so!"

That's what's so wonderful about Santa Claus: he actually does exist. It's not just a story. He doesn't just live within our hearts. He's a living breathing person. It's just that there are a whole bunch of him walking around, and that we, too, can become him anytime we want.
It goes back to the famous quote from 2 Corinthians 9:7, which says in such simple and inspiring words: "God loves a cheerful giver." That's who Santa Claus is, and that is the true Spirit of Christmas: cheerful giving. If you can be Santa Claus for any other person each December, even just one, than you have carried on the Joy of Christmas. Congratulations.

There are so many wonderful ideas that come into play at Christmas and deserve treatises of their own—like the importance of yearly traditions, the significance of special Christmas music, the blessing of a loving family gathered around Christmas Dinner, the effect Christmas has on kids, and, of course, the mission to "make it last all year," as the Ghost of Christmas Present sings in A Muppet Christmas Carol.

But today I can only touch on one more idea here, and it is a bit difficult to explain, but I will do my best. For several years now, I've reflected each Christmas on the whole idea of this holiday, how it might have started, and who might have started it. It must have been a very wise group of people. Here you have this yearly festival, full of great music and family gatherings, bountiful tables and warm feasts, traditions and expectations and true love showing through everything. You have this wonderful idea of Santa Claus, nurtured in the young from an early age, playing off of all of their potential for wonder and excitement, and bringing it to life perhaps more than any other time of year. You have secret gifts being given and anonymous undercover sacrifices occurring in so many households across the world, as parents break their backs to make Christmas special for their children. Beautiful memories are made in so many households, even ones that perhaps don't see too much happiness through the rest of the year. These memories stick with people as they grow, and are brought back more potently than most any others when those Christmas carols start playing again, year after year, and people get some of that old almost-forgotten Joy back into their hearts, and they do things that they might not do any other time of year. It's a holiday that can change the world. Who thought of all this? I'd like to shake their hands. Or perhaps have a snowball fight with them…

Merry Christmas, and "God Bless Us, Every One!"
Cheerfully yours,
Joezilla

Flying High

Isn't it amazing how fickle human emotions are? Although I'm sure we could all notice examples of this fact in other people's behavior, we need look no further than ourselves. How many times can we remember being on top of the world for a day or two, and then suddenly falling off the wagon just as quickly as we realized we were on it?

It seems that this is the general way of human nature, unless one is depressed (in which case you're pretty much always off the wagon) or enlightened (in which case you've got a ticket to ride the wagon indefinitely). Since most would agree that being on the wagon is more enjoyable than being off of it, I would like to offer a choice suggestion for getting back on if you find yourself having fallen off.

G.K. Chesterton once said that "Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly." He's so right—those angelic moments in our life, when we feel about ready to fly on up to Heaven and leave our business unfinished down here, those are the times when we take ourselves lightly, and what wonderful times they are! We don't attach such heavy values to the things that happen to us, and even, I daresay, the things we do. We shun the force of our emotions, which tell us to worry about things, to dwell on things, to ruminate until our minds are burned out and our dispositions are rotten.

See how self-destructive it can be to listen only to emotions? When we let our emotions control our thoughts, it becomes impossible to think for ourselves. We are constantly influenced by our anger and our desire, and there's no chance for compassion to get through. Emotions are essentially self-centered phenomena—and if we let them drive, we'll get nowhere but nowhere in no time. We should not deny our emotions; but neither should we allow them to control our course.

I'm not saying that we should abdicate our responsibilities. On the contrary, when we take the focus off of ourselves by lowering the volume on our emotions, we begin to "take ourselves lightly" again—and, in turn, we become infinitely more effective in our respective missions.
So if you're feeling blue, perhaps you need a perspective shift. I suggest listening to Relient K's "High of 75," which inspired me to write this little bit. After listening to that song, take a little time to be "thankful for being alive," and perhaps your eyes will open a little wider, and you'll discover that the sun is out there, after all.

See ya!
Joezilla

The Amazing Everyman

He was born just like any other child, but after reaching adulthood, he grew and gained extraordinary abilities, towering over his former self. He can move with surprising speed and agility for a being so large. Further, his strength is great enough to lift heavy objects that many are unable to budge. For short periods of time, he can energize his system to allow himself heightened speed, strength, and reflexes, albeit with a short period of recovery afterward. His mind’s capacity and capability have increased exponentially since childhood, and he is now able to commit substantial chunks of information to memory and recall them, verbatim, at will. Every time he repeats an action, he becomes more proficient at it, resulting in potential perfection with practice. His only weakness is that he is not invulnerable, but his other abilities render this weakness moot in all but the most harrowing of circumstances.

He is the average grown man, and he vastly discounts his physical capabilities.

This is one reason why we love superhero movies. Every good superhero origin story has a scene where the hero first tests out his powers, and we always marvel at the seemingly limitless potential of our hero’s newfound abilities. Tobey Maguire’s Peter Parker hoots with joy as he leaps and bounds across the rooftops of New York, pushing his abilities to their limit—and realizing there may not be one. Robert Downey Jr.’s Tony Stark takes his newly-built Iron Man suit for a late-night spin through the skies and hits supersonic speeds without breaking a sweat. Despite a few close calls, he demonstrates the amazing potential of his new technology, and leaves us wondering if anything on the planet would be capable of taking him down.

The point here is that these scenes remind us of what it feels like to run through a field at full speed, or to swing a baseball bat with all our might—and see the ball go sailing toward the horizon. We ourselves possess superhuman powers, in a sense—can you remember marveling at your Dad’s seemingly limitless strength (he could open soda bottles with his bare hands!), and wondering how grown-ups could be so tall? Now you are that strong, you are that tall. Isn’t that awesome? We are all superheroes, in a sense, traversing our own perilous journeys, discovering our extraordinary powers, fighting our harrowing battles, nursing our weaknesses, and protecting whatever it is we hold closest to our hearts.

So go and do your duty, and remember—“With great power comes great responsibility.” Thanks, Uncle Ben!