The Filibuster

I first learned about the filibuster in high school, and to this day, I find it to be the most advanced form of torture and masochism ever created within the political arena.  Its origin (as best I can find) began in the ancient Roman Senate, with the senator Cato being one of its earliest users.  The idea was that Roman Senate had to conclude all of their business by sunset, and a couple of times, a proposal came up that Cato did not want to pass.  In order to block the proposal, Cato would get up to speak and he wouldn’t stop speaking until sunset, thereby giving the Senate no time to vote on the proposal, and thus killed it.

Since then, the filibuster has been put to nefarious use over the years in several different countries, but I don’t know that anybody has ever perfected it the way the United States Senate has.  A filibuster doesn’t have a time limit like the setting of the sun—indeed not.  In the U.S. Senate, a filibuster lasts as long as the speaking senator endures.  The senator doesn’t have to say anything of substance, either.  They can talk about the weather, share family stories, read out of the phone book, or talk about last week’s football game; it doesn’t matter.  As long as they’re talking, the bill they oppose is blocked from being voted on.

Just the threat of having to sit through something like that is enough to keep me away from ever trying to run for any major political office such as that (not that I’d ever get enough funding for such a campaign anyways.)  I also have great admiration for those speakers who can physically stand in one place for an entire day, and those who have to listen to them for having enough patience not to shout somewhere in the middle to shut up.

Last week, Ted Cruz gave one of the longest speeches in recorded Senate history: Twenty-one hours.  That is incredible:  Twenty-one hours of no food, no sleep, and never once shutting up all for something he believed in.  No one can doubt how much this man wants to defund Obamacare because he has sacrificed his health and sanity for this belief.  That 21-hour speech would make any filibusterer (I can’t believe that’s a real word) proud.

Then there’s debate that the speech wasn’t a filibuster, and I would have to agree with those who say it wasn’t.  A filibuster delays a vote, and Ted Cruz didn’t delay anything except a well-deserved nap.  So what was the point?  To get it on the record that he didn’t like the Affordable Care Act?  He’s a Republican; everybody figured that even without news reports.  His goal then, if not to delay, should have been to get more people on his side for the vote.

In 21 hours, though, what he’s being remembered for is not his clear, passionate, and convincing arguments, but for quoting The Little Engine that Could, Green Eggs and Ham, Ayn Rand, making a Nazi comparison (you can’t have a serious debate in this country without that), and a Darth Vader impersonation.

Whether or not this was a filibuster doesn’t matter to me.  What does matter is that I am now convinced that there is no such thing as reasonable discussion about the important issues.  It is simply two sides talking at each other and they don’t even care if the other side is listening.

Poetic Meter

So if it isn’t completely obvious to my half a dozen readers, I have a thing for poetry.  I go wild reading it; although prose makes up the bulk of my reading, there is music in poetry that transcends time.  Even when the subject grows old and unfamiliar, the right placement of words can still speak to you, and if the message is not clear in your mind the words will still sing in your heart and remain with you for hours, days, weeks, or years.

Sadly, while isn’t dead in these modern days, it has been crippled in our generation.  It’s not really taught in schools, and even when it is, modern poetry tends to try and be the complete opposite of what the classics were.  Rhyme and meter are talked about, but every English or writing class I took regarded them as nice tools but could be easily set aside and forgotten.  And that’s just sad.  Meter and rhyme are the two elements that make poetry special and give it that music that’s so memorable and meaningful to us.  It is my opinion that good poetry has to have at least one of those elements; otherwise, it’s not really poetry at all.

For me, the more difficult of the two is meter, which is a real shame because meter is what gives rhythm to the body of your work.  For those who may not know what meter is, let me show you by one of the most famous opening lines for a poem ever:

“Once u/pon a/ midnight/ dreary,/ while I/ pondered,/ weak and/ weary,” (“The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe)

If you study carefully this poem, you’ll see that the entire poem follows a certain rhythm, or a pattern of one stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable.  This stressed-unstressed meter is called a trochee.  Most of the poem is written in trochaic octameter, which means that there are eight trochees in a line, as I’ve tried to show with the slashes above.

“Shall I/ compare/ thee to/ a sum/mer’s day?” (“Sonnet XVIII” by William Shakespeare)

This is a whole new type of meter called iambic pentameter.  An iamb is the opposite of a trochee, in that it follows an unstressed-stressed syllable pattern.  Pentameter means the iamb occurs five times in a line.

As I said, this is much harder for me in crafting poetry, and it’s something I hope to work on in the coming months.  Rhyming is simple for me; I’ve been doing it for years.  But for now, that’s become secondary because I really want to master this particular element, as you might observe from yesterday’s poem, in which I didn’t bother to rhyme at all but I was trying to establish a rhythm using an iambic hexameter.

Just a note for anyone who cares: I really liked how I did with iambs.  Just reading over it again, there’s one or two spots where it feel apart, but overall, I kept to the rhythm pretty well.  If I could do it over again, though, I would not have done a hexameter.  Doing a straight pentameter, or even a mix of pentameter and tetrameter, would have tightened my sentences and helped me convey a more focused idea with fewer words.  The thing I’m learning is that longer meters are good for telling stories, while shorter meters seem to help in conveying ideas or simple images.

The Mirror

I saw myself inside the glass upon a gray
and cloudy morn.  In there, I liked not what
the image was, alone and plain, and full of pain.
The glass I wished was not mirroring me, but that
it was instead a window.  Windows show what is
without, and there could you behold a friend and see
the things which they do find to give them joy.  Oh why
could I not have a window?  Pleasure isn’t within
my face.  My happiness is to be found in bright,
new, halcyon days; cut grass; young children playing out
along the streets, with ice cream dripping chocolate sauce
and riding bikes as fast as wind; in birds in flight;
in dogs that bark and chase a car for no sane cause
but that it runs within their ken and lets them blow
some energy; indeed, in these and many more
are reasons for my wish that this, my mirror was
instead a window that could show the world without
and not myself within.  Was not this woe, for now
in solitary straits I was now in?  This glass
could bring no love, no hope, no gift, no comfort, none.
But then off to the side I saw my spouse, returned
and smiling wide.  I was too sure that happiness
would be in front.  In truth, it sneaks behind and takes
us by surprise, unless we should be wise and have
a mirror in our homes, reflecting what we love.

Famous Dave's

I pick on Texas a lot.  I lived there two years and had a lot of experiences; it’s not spite that brings it out, it’s just too easy.  However, there is one thing I cannot deny is the food.  I put on 50 pounds when I lived there, to which I cursed them all every time I needed a new pair of pants.

And the best part was the barbecue.  The West Coast doesn’t understand what barbecue is; most homes I’ve been to just throw down some hamburger patties and hot dogs on the grill and call good.  Not Texas.  Texas, man, you get chicken, pulled pork, steak, ribs, and brisket.  Mmm…brisket.  They know their meats and I had many a wonderful experience in somebody’s home, summer or winter. 

But I never had that same good experience in any of the barbecue restaurants.

It’s not something I understand.  I went to half a dozen different barbecue restaurants, and while I was occasionally amazed by the sides put out, the meats were a constant disappointment.  The brisket was often dry, and the rest of the meats had too much fat, too little meat, or was overwhelmed by sauce that was trying too hard.  By the time I went home, I came away thinking the barbecue was meant for the home but just couldn’t hack it with the public.

After the weekend before last, I’m happy to report that I was wrong.  There’s a wonderful place called Famous Dave’s that my mom and I tried out on a whim a couple Saturday’s ago.  I had to do the brisket and she went for the pulled pork.  My brisket was so moist and the sauce was not only delicious, it was small enough to enhance the meat rather than overwhelm it.  Our dinner’s came with a couple sides.  We both went for the red-skinned mashed potatoes (delectable), but while she went for the broccoli, I tried out the mac-n-cheese.  Creamy and infused with jalapenos to give a little kick.  I tend to avoid spicy food, not because I don’t like it, but in the last couple years, I’ll get heartburn over the slightest spice and it’s very uncomfortable.  But I decided to risk it this time and no consequence other than a satisfied stomach.

So kudos to Famous Dave’s, my first happy barbecue restaurant experience.  If it’s near your hometown, check it out.  It was totally worth it.

Physician-Assisted Suicide

Last week, Stephen Hawking told BBC that he favored physician-assisted suicide for those who are terminally ill.  The idea is that if a patient is in such terrible pain with no hope of relief, they should have the right to end their own lives.

I respect Stephen Hawking greatly.  A Brief History of Time is an incredible book, one I intend to read again, and the other scientific ideas I’ve heard come from him have been illuminating.  Considering his own medical history (it’s been 50 years since he was diagnosed with motor neurone disease) I figure he’s more than earned his right to speak on this subject, however he decides to see it.

Still, this opens a can of worms and is a subject that I’d purposely forgotten about years ago.  Suicide is an unpleasant subject and open to a lot of moral questioning.  John Locke said that man has natural rights to “life, liberty, and property.”  I agree with him completely on the right to life.  Sure, we all die eventually, but while we have our bodies fully functioning, I believe that we have a right to expect that no one will infringe that natural right.  It’s why we view murder with such abhorrence; our existence is a treasure inherently ours that nobody is allowed to rob us of.

So we know why we can’t murder.  The question is: Does our right to life also include a right to end our own?  If so, then yes, physician-assisted suicide should be permitted.  There would have to be any safeguards put in place to ensure that a person has not been coerced or misunderstood, and allowed to change their minds when being assisted in pursuing their own deaths.  But if our right to life does not include a right to end our own, then suicide is murder and we should be working to prevent it at all costs.

I haven’t totally made up my mind on the moral philosophy on whether suicide is murder, although I tend to come out strongly in favor of pursuing life first and foremost.  I am troubled, though, by the organization of such groups as Compassion & Choices, whose primary goal is ensuring that every state supports our constitutional right to die.  Go to their website, www.compassionandchoices.org, and when you go see what they’re about, the first sentence says, “Compassion & Choices is the leading nonprofit organization committed to helping everyone have the best death possible.”  With unflinching honesty about their goals, I have to wonder how they organization grows.  After all, their target audience must continually drop off and they won’t be able to tell their friends if they were satisfied with the results.  Death kind of kills the message along with the messenger.

No matter how pretty the website or fanciful the message, it concerns me that we have these groups whose main purpose is hastening the sick to their death rather than seeing if it isn’t worth it to hold on just a little longer.  After all, you never know what impact you can still have on the world if you can hold on to life a little longer.

Sarah: Part I

One of the pities about the Bible (and this is true about all scripture I’ve come across) is that with the thousands of people it records, we get only the barest details about most of their lives.  We see them only when their actions affect the greater events, and we are forced to make judgments and interpretations of their actions as they happen without knowledge of much backstory or what they did on a day-to-day basis.  The only way we get to know more about them is if they themselves were close to the action.

This is especially true with the women of the Bible.  The women had to be extraordinary individuals to be recorded at all—which is a real shame, but you can’t change time.  There are some who really stand out to me, and my favorite woman of the Old Testament is easily Sarai, or as she would later be called, Sarah.

Sarai’s father was Terah, who was also the father of Abram, Nahor, and Haran.  We know that Sarai and Abram had different mothers (Gen. 20:12) and those two were married while they lived in Ur.  Even a half-sibling marriage feels off to our modern sensibilities, but the laws against incest have always been pretty loose in the early portions of the Bible.  The scripture makes a point early on that “Sarai was barren; she had no child.” (Gen. 11:30)

Abram and Sarai did a lot of traveling in their time.  First, they traveled with Terah from Ur to Canaan, in a land they called Haran, which is where Terah died—at age 205, I might add (Gen. 11:32).  I want to know what dietary and exercise routine they followed.

They left Haran toward Canaan, with their nephew, Lot, and “the souls they had gotten in Haran.” (Gen. 12:5)  (I’ve been given to understand that the word “gotten” in that sentence can also be interpreted as “made” or “converted.”  This would imply that the couple had done a fair amount of missionary work in Haran and won the souls to the gospel.  This would also fit with Latter-day Saint scripture, from the Book of Abraham, where Abraham says he took “the souls we had won in Haran.” (Abr. 2:15))

There’s a bit of a travelogue from here as they went several places within Canaan, although it is mentioned that they “journeyed, going on still toward the south.” (Gen. 12:9)  Although the destinations continually change, the direction stays consistent.  And here’s where the story gets interesting.

“And there was a famine in the land: and Abram went down into Egypt to sojourn there; for the famine was grievous in the land.  And it came to pass, when he was come near to enter into Egypt, that he said unto Sarai his wife, Behold now, I know that thou art a fair woman to look upon: Therefore it shall come to pass, when the Egyptians shall see thee, that they shall say, This is his wife: and they will kill me, but they will save thee alive.  Say, I pray thee, thou art my sister: that it may be well with me for thy sake; and my soul shall live because of thee.” (Gen. 12:10-13)

Abram has been regarded by some as a trickster because of this.  When they entered Egypt and the Egyptians and princes of Pharaoh saw her, she was brought into Pharaoh’s house.  While Pharaoh treated Abram very well for Sarai’s sake, (there is some implication that Pharaoh gave Abram a lot of wealth in cattle and servants), the Lord sent a plague on Pharaoh and his house because he took Sarai away from her husband.  As a result, Sarai was returned to Abram and they left, taking all their wealth with them.  When they left Egypt went “into the south” (Gen. 13:1) it’s stated that “Abram was very rich in cattle, in silver, and in gold.” (Gen. 13:2)

The argument I’ve heard about Abram being sneaky is an fascinating one.  I mean, he goes to a kingdom, lies about his relationship, makes a lot of treasure, and when his con is exposed, he leaves with his victims (the Egyptians) suffering while he comes out a very rich man.  It’s like Abram had this idea on his own and the Lord supported him in that endeavor because of their covenant together.  The Book of Abraham, though, adds a unique perspective to this story:

“And I, Abraham, journeyed, going on still towards the south; and there was a continuation of a famine in the land; and I, Abraham, concluded to go down into Egypt, to sojourn there, for the famine became very grievous.  And it came to pass when I was come near to enter into Egypt, the Lord said unto me: Behold, Sarai, thy wife, is a very fair woman to look upon; Therefore it shall come to pass, when the Egyptians shall see her, they will say—She is his wife; and they will kill you, but they will save her alive; therefore see that ye do on this wise: Let her say unto the Egyptians, she is thy sister, and thy soul shall live.  And it came to pass that I, Abraham, told Sarai, my wife, all that the Lord had said unto me—Therefore say unto them, I pray thee, thou art my sister, that it may be well with me for thy sake, and my soul shall live because of thee.” (Abr. 2:21-25, emphasis added)

Looking at this passage, it shows that going to Egypt was entirely Abram’s decision, but when he was about to cross the boundary, the Lord warned him of danger and told him how to avoid it.  It wasn’t Abram’s plan to deceive the Egyptians, but he was obeying a commandment from the Lord.

It also tells me a great deal about Sarai’s her relationship with her husband.  It says that Abram told her everything that the Lord had told him, making them both completely honest with each other and they were equal participants in their endeavors.  After all, it wasn’t Abram commanded to tell the others she was his sister.  She was the one who did the speaking.  She actually took an active role in following the Lord’s command.  And because of their obedience, they were blessed in abundance.

Also, we can learn a great deal about faith from her.  This was not any easy thing they were doing, keeping their marriage secret from the most powerful man in that country.  Yet she didn’t shrink from that task, even though she surely could not have known how the story would end.  Not only was she successful in keeping her husband safe, keeping her faith increased them through that dangerous period.

Narrative Tense

When I started writing fiction as a hobby, the first thing I learned was the use of narrative tense, and I found that writers tended to have very strong opinions about which narrative tense was used.  When I say strong, I mean powerful, nearly violent reactions to these different narrators.  There are at least a dozen different types of narrators you will find in literature, although the variety is more prominent in fiction.  I’m just going to go briefly over six of them in this post and expound on them more in the future.

First-person past tense:  This is my favorite way to be told a story.  I grew up reading K. A. Applegate’s Animorphs series and I loved getting into the narrator’s heads and seeing the story told from his or her point-of-view.  It’s a limiting way to tell a story, but I find that that makes it more real and you can achieve some amazing depth in philosophy and character growth.  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain is an excellent example of this, and was by far the best thing I read in high school.

First-person present tense:  This one annoys a lot of readers.  I’m usually okay with it, but I will admit that in narrating stories, it feels unnatural.  We’re used to stories being told as if they were history; being told as if the story is happening now is jarring and takes some getting used to.

Second-person:  I won’t say present tense, because I’ve never seen second-person being written in any other way.  This tense is best-known for being used in the Choose Your Own Adventure stories and it is fun because it makes the reader a participant.  It seems to have few other outlets, although I have also seen it used effectively in David Klass’s You Don’t Know Me.

Third-person limited:  The most common way to tell a story these days.  It may be third-person, but it’s told strictly from the point-of-view of one character, so that everything told is colored by that character’s perspective.  I’ve also found it to be the easiest way to write fiction as well.

Third-person omniscient:  This used to be more popular.  In this one, there are no secrets from the reader, but there can be secrets from the characters.  The reader is privy to all the motives, actions, and thoughts of every character in the story all throughout the narrative.  This is a very demanding way to read and to write.  The reader has to keep a lot of information in their heads, and the writer has to be consistent or the danger of confusing the reader is higher.

Third-person present tense:  This tense annoys me more than any other, and a lot of that is because it’s the one I’m least familiar with.  I almost didn’t make it through the first chapter of Black House by Stephen King and Peter Straub for this very thing.  It had the effect of distancing me from the characters and the story rather than making it immediate.  I’m glad I stuck with it but it took a lot of getting used to.

A Temptation of Sweets

Good little Herman strolled on by,
Skipping and singing, and said, “Hi!”
            To all the children,
            Mary’s old chicken,
That biddy off selling her pie…

What a pie!  Baked beyond belief,
Purposed to expurgate all grief.
            Every fruit that must
            Complement such crust,
Purposed to bring about relief.

Bad little Herman found his stick,
Tripped the old lady, then as quick
            Grabbed the pie, ran on,
            Ate till it was gone.
Fat Herman’s built now like a brick.

Silent Films and the National Film Registry

Nosferatu is the first silent movie I have ever seen from start to finish.  Although it seems a shame to call it a silent movie.  The actors don’t speak, but there is music playing through the entire thing.  In a sense, it’s almost like watching a ballet; nobody speaks, but the music and action blend together so well that you feel the story come alive before your eyes.  You’re never in question as to what is actually going on.  The cutaways to read dialogue and book passages are unnecessary to understand the plot; they add more to milieu than the plot.

Nosferatu is an adaptation of Dracula, and it’s one that I have to respect.  Vampires were being romanticized before Stephanie Meyers stepped in with Twilight; she just took the romance to the extreme.  What Nosferatu does is glory in the madness and terror of the vampire.  He is quick, strong, and monstrous, and the terror is that his victims are attracted to him.  Rather than fleeing his presence, if they’re not waiting by open windows for him like the Darling children for Peter Pan, they’re running to his coffin.  The ship scene in Act III is perfection in a horror sequence, where the victims are utterly hopeless and none left alive.

Right after that, I found the documentary These Amazing Shadows, a look at the National Film Registry formed by the Library of Congress.  Since 1989, up to 25 movies are added to the National Film Registry, meaning the Congress recognizes these movies as being important enough to record and keep as part of our nation’s artistic and cultural history.  As such, nothing under ten years will be considered.

The Registry includes an amazing variety; it’s not just beloved theatrical releases and old movies, but they also include home videos, documentaries, advertisements, and propaganda.  Anything that somehow represents our culture and still can impact us emotionally, mentally, and perhaps even spiritually, the way that all good art will do.

As These Amazing Shadows closed, I asked myself, If there is one movie I could add to the Registry, what would it be?  Odd enough, I would put down a commercial:  The Diet Coke commercial featuring the song “Starry Eyed Surprise.”  It’s a cute little show where a girl on roller skates gets everybody to skate and dance at sunset, with some very creative CGI magic involving bubbles that highlights doesn’t overwhelm the actors but enhances their performance.  I first saw this commercial in 2005 when I went to see The Island in theaters, and just last year I saw it again with my roommate watching some show, and it had lost none of its appeal.  It’s not only an effective ad and a lot of fun to watch (I want to dance every time I see it), it seems to encapsulate the joys of youth and the optimistic spirit we had in those days, supported by shameless commercialism.

What would you nominate for the National Film Registry to recognize?

The Mars Colony

NBC reported that the Mars One Foundation is considering 2782 people who’ve paid for registration to go on a one-way trip to colonize Mars in 2023.  And from a cursory inspection of the Mars One homepage (www.mars-one.com), the plan is to send more cargo and settlers every two years thereafter.

The applicants come from all around the world, over 140 countries, yet it should come as no surprise that the United States put up the biggest portion (making 24 percent.)  My first thought when I saw those numbers was that clearly our citizens don’t feel it’s enough to move to Canada to get away from our problems.  It’s altogether better to leave the planet.

What amazes me is that there are people who decided it wasn’t enough to just visit new world; we, as a species, are jumping right straight for habitation.  On an even deeper level, I am in awe of what humanity is proving capable of.  Fifty years ago, we sent a man to the moon.  In ten years, we’re taking a bolder leap in exploring the new starry frontier.  The stories we’ve written and filmed for years on space travel are no longer becoming as far-fetched as they were, and some of the romance in the adventure is being fanned anew.  It’s a very exciting time in history that’s coming and I feel privileged to be alive while this conversation takes a very serious turn.

The evening when I first read this, though, what really stirred me was gratitude at this world I live in.  This plan to colonize Mars is a wonderful opportunity; essentially what’s being planned is the birth of a new civilization, and how often will that ever happen?  As awesome as that is, I realized more than ever that Earth is my home and I love it.  I imagined what it would be like to say good-bye to this planet, and I realized that this would as sad as the death of a family member.  We’re living in days of miracles and wonders, but the greatest wonder for me is the life that I have here.

YouTubers

About a month ago, I got hooked on this ridiculous YouTube series called “YouTubers React.”  Every week or two, folks with YouTube channels are invited by TheFineBrothers to watch other viral videos and give their reactions.  Each episode is divided in two parts; the first part is the guests watching the videos, and the second half is a question-answer session concerning what was watched.

It’s a pretty fun show that I stumbled on accidentally and recommend, but what happened in the last week is that I wanted to actually view their guests channels and see what they came up with.  And I am amazed at the variety.  As big as I knew YouTube was, I wasn’t aware of how many people used YouTube as part of their career entertainment.  It’s amazing; there are cooking channels, beauty channels, gaming channels, news channels, documentary channels, and then other miscellaneous fun channels.  It’s incredible what’s out there and I know that I have just scratched the surface.

Just from the YouTubers, here are my favorite finds:

MysteryGuitarMan:  I’m a music nut, and Joe Penna and his friends do some wild and inventive stuff with anything that comes to mind.  They’re like a severely edited version of Stomp, only without as much percussion.

ShaneDawsonTV:  Guilty pleasure.  And I do feel guilty for liking it as much as I do.  Lewd, crude, bawdy, profane, puerile, and hilarious.

Sxephil:  He talks a little fast so it’s hard to keep up with all the topics, but in roughly ten minutes, he covers a broad range of current events around the world that I consider it a good use of my time.

There are others, but these were the ones I kept going back when the next day came around.  I was judging this on how quick these channels made me want to come back and see more.

                    ***

This is going to be my last Friday post for at least a month.  Earlier this week, I decided that I wanted to try to change my posting deadlines, challenge myself a little bit.  So, for the next five weeks, instead of doing these obscenely long essays twice a week, I am going to be publishing shorter posts Mondays through Thursdays.  Until then, take care.

A Really Short Prayer Guide

Someday, I’ll do a lengthier post on prayer, but because of some personal commitments, I can’t spend too much time writing on this subject.  I wanted to write something on this for a while, though, because I’ve met many who when asked, they tell me they don’t know how.  Occasionally, it’s because they’re out of practice, but more often than not, it’s because nobody ever taught them how.

This is a model, or pattern, on how I was taught when I was little, and I still mainly follow this style of praying because it’s so ingrained in me.  It comprises of these four steps:

1)      Start by saying “Heavenly Father…” or “Father in Heaven…” because that’s who you’re speaking to.

2)      Give thanks.  This can be for anything:  family, friends, food, your home, opportunities you’ve been given, health, or anything that you’re grateful to have in your life.  Once in a while, I have a hard time feeling gratitude for anything around me, and in those times, I’ll say “Thank you for the air I breathe.”  It feels a little snarky when I say it, but I’ve found that even if nothing else is going well in my life, showing some gratitude that I am alive does wonders for how I feel about the rest of my prayer.

3)      Ask for blessings.  Some feel uncomfortable asking God for anything, either because they don’t feel worthy or because doing so feels selfish.  I would bring your attention to Christ’s Sermon on the Mount, where he says, “Ask, and it shall be given you… how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” (Matt. 7:7,11)  My belief is that God desires to give us blessings, but in many cases, he’s waiting to be asked for them.

4)      Finish by saying “…in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”  Anything that’s done spiritually ought to be done in Christ’s name. 

It’s easy to just say prayers.  The harder part is listening to God.  Prayer isn’t supposed to be a one-way monologue, but a dialogue between us and Him.  Listening to God’s instructions is a learning process.  Sometimes the answers to prayers are obvious; I’m one who believes angels can be sent to give you guidance, but these instances are rare, and it’s certainly not something that has ever happened to me.

Often, though, God is going to speak by the Spirit, and that takes a lot of discipline and patience to understand.  The three ways I recognize the Spirit are: an overwhelming sense of peace, burning in the bosom, and certain thoughts and impressions that will come.  By no means are these the only ways to understand the Spirit or hear what the Lord is saying, and as I said, learning to understand God is a learning process.  But if one hasn’t developed a habit of praying, I don’t know how one can ever expect to receive an answer.

The Deaths in Harry Potter

I thought about going through the last four Harry Potter novels one after the other like I had with the first three, but somehow that just wasn’t doing it for me.  I might still do that in the future, but for now, I am much more interested in the common themes each of the books take.  Goblet of Fire was a game changer in the series and forced us to look at some pretty heavy, mature issues, especially death.

I remember reading once that Rowling was surprised at some of the outrage parents had with Goblet of Fire.  Many complained that the series had become too dark and not fit for their children, and Rowling replied that Sorcerer’s Stone began with a double murder and had an instance of a villain drinking blood.

I get Rowling’s point, although I can still poke holes in her argument.  Sorcerer’s Stone is different because all of the deaths take place offstage.  The book actually opens the day after the Potters deaths, the unicorn was already killed (and since it’s neither human nor real, it’s a little tough to work up sympathy) and Quirrel, the bad guy, passes away after Harry faints.

Chamber of Secrets, Myrtle died 50 years prior to the events of the story.  Prisoner of Azkaban, the mass killing of the Muggles happened 12 years prior to the Sirius Black’s escape.  Death is present in the early Potter novels, but there is a distance set there.  Harry and his friends face danger quite often in the books, but they never have to confront death head-on.

Goblet of Fire changed that tone in Chapter 1, where we witness the murder of Frank Bryce and learn about the prior murder of Bertha Jorkins.  Later on, we have the killing of Barty Crouch, and by the end, Barty Crouch Jr. is left without a soul.  Goblet of Fire is extremely brutal with its characters but there is one death that set the dark tone that followed not only this book but for the rest of the following series.

Cedric Diggory

I’ve always liked Cedric, even from his introduction in Prisoner of Azkaban.  Hufflepuff House was not taken very seriously in the series until he came along, and he exemplified loyalty and honor from the first.  When he won the Quidditch game, he demanded a rematch because he felt he hadn’t won fairly.

There are some who would argue that he’s not smart enough to take an advantage when it comes to him.  I say that this shows integrity and a willingness to live a higher law.  Also, it was a sacrifice for him to say “no” to winning.  At the third trial, Cedric is a walk away from victory and he wants to win.  He wants to win badly.  But out of respect for Harry constantly saving his life, he sits down because he doesn’t believe it’s deserved.  He doesn’t crave honor for himself; his greatest desire is to honor those helped him.  Very admirable figure.

And then Voldemort kills him.

This was a very effective death and it really threw me for a loop the first time I read it.  There aren’t many characters I think Rowling could have picked that would evoke as powerful a response.  And it’s not just because Cedric was so good.  Cedric’s death was powerful because he was a student.

There was a distance in the danger of Voldemort.  When the series started, the murders were in the distant past, but they were also affecting other people.  Grownups.  Cedric’s death brought it home that Voldemort is not a distant threat.  He has no scruples and he will kill children for no other reason than they’re in the way.

It’s a very sudden and sobering realization of what the story was turning into.

It also cast a long shadow over Harry and his actions over the course of the next novel.  I’ve had many conversations about Order of the Phoenix with friends in the past, and there are a lot of complaints about Harry’s anger, and I was among them.  He lashes out at everyone, and the closer his relationship, the meaner he is.  It made me want to punch him more than a few times.

But after reading all the series in one fell swoop like this, I was much more sympathetic.  This is the first time Harry ever saw death with his own eyes.  His parents died a long time before; he misses having them in his life, but they’ve never shared the vast majority of time with him. Cedric is the first death he’s witnessed and it leaves a huge effect on him.  This is something I can empathize with; I mourned my grandma’s death for over a year before I felt myself ready to move on, and that was a significant chunk of my childhood devoted just to that.  Harry has to live with Cedric’s death and instead of receiving any comfort, he’s treated with suspicion and doubt on every corner.

Sirius Black

Sirius Black is proof of Rowling’s talent.  In the last 50 pages of Prisoner of Azkaban, she turned the most feared character into one of the most beloved figures in the entire series.  He barely appears at all in Goblet of Fire and yet all of the fans looked at him as Harry’s true guardian.  His death shocked them with its abruptness and once again, it was made clear that Harry was indeed alone.

With so much love poured in his direction, I’m going to rub them all the wrong way and say, I really didn’t care that he died.  Harry cared a lot about him, but they really didn’t get to know each other that well over Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire, and in Order of the Phoenix, he is angry, petulant, downright cruel to Kreacher, and encourages Harry in dangerous activities that it’s hard for me to see him as a great role model for Harry.  And after seeing Snape’s worst memory, and Sirius’s utter lack of remorse, I was just disappointed in how he turned out.

Besides, Molly and Arthur Weasley were always Harry’s true parents, more so than Sirius could have ever hoped to be.

The most this death did was put Bellatrix Lestrange on the radar as a villain to look out for.  If anybody could be the true disciple of Voldemort, it is her, and she won’t let anyone stand in her way, not even her cousin.

Albus Dumbledore

I thought I had a heart of stone.  I had been reading tragic stories for years now, and when I first read Half-Blood Prince, I was in the middle of Lost, a show that is ruthless with its heroes.  Over half of the original cast was killed off by the time it finally finished, along with the majority of its new characters.  After all the crap that show dragged me through, I thought nothing a fictional work could do would get me.

And Dumbledore’s death made me cry.

It was still hard this time around.  My eyes were watery, and the funeral scene was simply beautiful.

This was the most necessary death, and in the end, was inevitable.  How could Dumbledore live to the end?  He was the only person Voldemort was ever scared of, and proved to be Harry’s shield at the end of Order of the Phoenix.  We always trusted the Dumbledore would save everybody.  He had to go if Harry was ever going to step up and become the hero we wanted him to be by the story’s end.  Beautiful moment.

Hedwig

I’m pretty callous.  I don’t care about Hedwig’s death.  I’ve had too many cats, dogs, and chickens coming in and out of my life, that reading about a pet dying isn’t going to do much for me.  But, it was his first pet, and Hedwig did have a noble death in protecting Harry.

Mad-Eye Moody

He’s not a character that anyone ever feels close to.  His biggest role is Goblet of Fire, and it turns out that the whole time, Mad-Eye was really Barty Crouch.  The real Mad-Eye was imprisoned throughout the course of the novel.  Every book afterwards, we’re presented with the same paranoid individual, but Harry has no shared experiences with him.

Still, he was very heroic every time whenever he showed up, and watching Harry take the time to bury the only remnant they have of Mad-Eye is a very sweet and touching moment.  It’s the first moment of personal reverence that Harry shows for the deceased.

Scrimgeour

Nobody liked him, but I like how Rowling showed that even the people we don’t agree or get along with can show incredible bravery and honor at the end of their lives.

Dobby

This one was heroic, but I’m actually to take this opportunity to talk about the Malfoy home in general.  There’s always been a darkness surrounding the Malfoy family, but in this story, you get the sense that their home is under siege by an even greater darkness.  The fact the Dobby came back under his own free will speaks volumes about his own courage.  And, of course, it makes us hate Bellatrix all the more.

Fred Weasley

There was no way that the Weasleys were going to get out of this unscathed.  After all the sacrifices they’d made, they would have had to pay sooner or later.  And I don’t think Rowling could have picked a more effective target.  Fred and George have been beloved since Sorcerer’s Stone.  There’s never been a moment when I wasn’t rooting for them to succeed, whether it was taunting Percy or starting their own joke shop.  Taking out one of them is like taking out half the light of the sun.

That moment as Percy weeps over his brother’s death, too, is the purest moment of reconciliation I’ve seen depicted in literature.

Lupin and Tonks

By the time they die, I am numb to all the tragedy.  This is when I know I’m reading a war novel:  seeing another soldier die for the cause no longer has the power to shock.  There’s just a deep sense of sorrow at the waste of it all.  And yet, I’m actually happy that Lupin passed, because otherwise, how could he have walked with Harry on that fateful march to his own death later?

Severus Snape

Even knowing what I know about Snape on this read-through, I can honestly say I don’t like him at all.  I feel pity for Snape, I weep for how he was wronged, but I can’t say that I’m ever on his side through the course of the series.  All of his tragedies happened in his youth.  From the time of Harry’s first Potions class until the moment Harry chased him after Dumbledore’s death, Snape showed himself to be a hateful, petty, and despicable man, whose insane prejudice caused more problems than it ever solved.  His love for Lily does not outbalance his stubborn refusal to forgive James, at least not enough to separate Harry from his father.  In Ron Weasley’s words, “He’s a git.”

I think it’s a mark of Harry’s goodness that he sees past Snape’s flaws, enough so that he would honor Snape by giving his son the middle name of Severus.

Harry Potter

Harry counts as a death.  In fact, it’s the most important death.  I can only liken it to Aslan’s death in C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.  Aslan goes to the White Witch, sad and lonely.  As he journeys to the Stone Table, he is accompanied by Susan and Lucy, but eventually leaves them behind to observe but never participate.  He is mocked and bullied by his enemies before the knife stabs his heart, but after, a deeper magic is invoked which gives him life and breaks the power the White Witch had over Narnia.

Harry’s journey parallels this so well.  He knows his duty and goes to his death without complaint, but he is frightened and walks alone.  All he has to comfort him are the spirits of his parents and their dear friends, and before he faces the enemy, he has to leave them behind.  The enemy treats him with scorn before Voldemort strikes him down.  And when Voldemort does this, an ancient magic is invoked; Harry’s love for his friends gives them the same protection that his own mother gave him.  Voldemort and his followers no longer have power over them.

Why does the hero who voluntarily sacrifices himself to save the life of another mean strike such a powerful chord in any feeling human being?  I believe this story appeals to the best in us.  Giving up your own life is the definition of a selfless motive.  Nobody can doubt your intent when the only reward you receive is to protect your friends.

Also, I love that Harry has a chance to rest and he chooses to return to the darkness because he feels there is more that he can do.  Even when he’s given all he has, he wants to give more.  How do you not respond to that heroism?

Bellatrix Lestrange

This is where we actually get to see Molly Weasley in action.  That battle was riveting.

Voldemort

Voldemort’s death was certain.  Harry knows this.  Reading their final conversation again, I noticed that Harry is trying to save Voldemort, not from death but from damnation.  The chapter at King’s Cross showed that death is not the end of the soul, but that Voldemort was in danger of losing his own.  Harry was practically begging Voldemort to show some remorse, to make at least a first step towards repentance, or his very being was in danger of destruction.  It’s a very interesting moment.  Rowling is hinting at the eternities beyond mortal existence, but never explaining more beyond that.  In the end, we don’t have to know everything that happens after.  We just have to know enough not to be damned.  In the end, Harry couldn’t convince Voldemort to grieve even once for his mistakes, but that doesn’t he failed.  All Harry could do was warn; his duty first and foremost was to save his friends.  With Voldemort, all Harry was responsible for was to give him a chance.

There’s a lot of depth to the final chapter that I didn’t get the first time through, and I’m pretty sure I’ll catch more in the future when I decide to go back through the books again.

Hugo Winners

Okay, my last post was pretty lame.  This one is not going to be much better, but I find this pretty cool news.  Writing Excuses has recently won the Hugo, one of science-fiction and fantasy’s most prestigious awards, for Best Related Work.

This is exciting.  Brandon Sanderson, Mary Robinette Kowall, Dan Wells, and Howard Taylor have been doing this podcast for a while now (Kowall didn’t join as a permanent cast member until the sixth season, but she’d been a guest star since the third season and those are still some of the best episodes they ever did.)  It’s in the middle of its eighth season, the discussions are helpful and fascinating, and it’s a wonderful service that they are providing within the genre and those writing in it.  It’s about time they got the recognition they deserve.

I only have one question left: what the hell is Best Related Work?  Last I checked, none of them were related to each other and I’m certain nobody related to them was responsible for giving them the award.  That would be nepotism.

Help

I had a really awesome post in mind… and I procrastinated on it.  Then I had another cool idea to talk about, and then my roommate said we had a recording of an Adventure Time episode we’d been waiting for, so that post also got put off.  And so I was going to go for my old standby of quick but awesome poetry, but then I realized my brain was fried.  So then I thought about telling a cock-and-bull story about why I’m not giving you something good, but once again, my brain is fried.  I would ask for your understanding and forgiveness, but something more pressing occurs to my mind, and it’s not something I know how to solve for myself, but maybe you can:

Why is a raven like a writing desk?  Freaking Lewis Carroll.