Rather than processing, I think I’m going to give myself permission to log or list experiences, feelings, goals and images, instead of crafting a narrative out of them. I don’t think I’ll have time to process until post-Clarion, and my storytelling powers will be focused on the weekly deadlines for the workshop.

The few days leading up to the workshop were jam-packed with project management at the day job. I think I had one of the most productive work weeks of my life! Friday afternoon was devoted to a last minute scramble to run last minute errands, and to spend 20 minutes traversing at Rockreation as a loving farewell.

We went to GameBoy’s end of the year concert on Friday night–it’s amazing to see his progress over the years!–and were pleasantly surprised when Alana sat down next to us. We all decided (including GB) to skip Pomp and Circumstance, and snuck over to ice cream with Tim and Meryl right afterwards. As close as I am to my online friends, having good friends who live in your neighborhood is a treasure.

I woke up at 4am on Saturday morning to finish packing. Er, actually, to start *and* finish packing. I then woke everyone up and forced them to go to breakfast with me. It’s amazing to realize that you are friends with every member of your family, and that we can have a flow of brilliant conversation, with everyone an equal participant. I think we touched on physics, pop-culture, creativity, politics and body humor in one sitting.

Parting was difficult. I’ll leave it at that.

When I got to the gate, I saw my classmate @StephanieDeniseBrown waving at me. I think we annoyed everyone else in the room with our enthusiastic, non-stop, 90-minute convo. She is a wonderful, considerate human being, and it was the perfect way to begin my Clarion experience. On the plane, I worked out goals to put my workshop into perspective, and got half-way through a long overdue critique for a friend (which I am determined to complete before my first assignment).

Side note: I’m probably not going to talk much about my classmates on the blog, out of respect for their privacy. But I may exercise judgment and make occasional exceptions. And I’ll use the short hand by which they made themselves available to the public–in this case, twitter handles.

The Seattle natives who were accepted into the workshop have been wonderful resources, shuttling us from the airport to the house. Another ‘mate was holding onto Jana’s cousin’s bike for me at his place in Ballard, and after a laughter-filled dinner with other students, he gave me a ride to his place, and I rode the four miles back to the house, over a HUGE hill (Google Maps, why did you deceive me with your deceptive 2D?). But not before I discovered that this shrine was only a few blocks from his place:

Tell me, my friends, is this of God, or of the Devil?

I woke up before six this morning, and the house was pretty quiet. I yelped four cafes that had free wi-fi and were open on Sunday morning, and came right to Herkimer Coffee on “The Ave”, just a block down from a vegan pizza place, another vegan cafe, and a community garden. I walked in and found myself surrounded by pictures of Todaiji and Itsukushima Shrine, two places that I visited on my last pilgrimage to Japan. And I’m sitting under a picture of a shrine to Inari, who is someone I obsess over, and an important presence in a couple of my stories:

Battery on the laptop is dying, so I’m going to finish my exploratory ride of the U. District and check out the outdoor rock wall by the Husky stadium. Not sure when I’ll get to B-log again, but stay tuned!

And thank you all for your encouragement!

I heard about Agora from Jason over at the Wild Hunt. He first mentioned it in ’08, where he extolled it as likely to be a Pagan-friendly work. Well, that was enough for me, so I waited for it to come out.

And waited some more.

Meanwhile, Jason was giving occasional tidbits: the movie was to center around the life of Hypatia and the destruction of the great library at Alexandria. I vaguely remembered the name Hypatia from posters my mom had around the Math room of Women In Mathematics, but that was about it. So I added to my “Reasons To See This Movie” list “feminism”. Somewhere along the line (likely also from the Wild Hunt, although I can’t find the post), I heard that Christians were up in arms about the movie because it depicted them as violent oppressors of Pagans; you know, because it was historically accurate. So I added “anti-Christian” to that list. Anything that upsets the Christians is probably worth my time.

Well, it has finally been released and I went to see it yesterday. (Two days ago, it was playing at two, count them two, theaters in LA. Yesterday, it was down to one. If you have any interest, find a local theater now or it will be gone.)

A. Maz. Ing. While it did treat Pagans perhaps more sympathetically than Christians would hope, what I got out of it was more atheistic than pagan. The film takes place in the midst of the clash of three religions: the Hellenic/Egyptian paganism of the elite class, the Christianity of the slaves and masses, and the Judaism of the middle class. And clash they do. The film impressed upon me the fact that religions are a danger to those around them; this was true across the board.

Further, two of the main characters changed religion: both for an increase in their social status. Religion, then, is viewed both as something changeable and as expedient. Both undergo crises of faith which are met with two responses. One is told to neither doubt nor question; the other is guided by a friend toward an even deeper faith. In the end, the first realizes the error and acts to undo the harm religion has caused; the second becomes ever further entrenched in the religion. I found this to be a wonderful allegory to how religion often treats its adherents: those who are given the strongarm (don’t question, just have faith) are more likely to leave while those whose questions are dealt with sensitively end up further in. Perhaps, also, the relationship with the questioner’s answerer is important; for the one who leaves, the apologist is a cold, violent missionary; for the one who stays, the apologist is a trusted friend who knows the true reason for the questioning.

The film is also quite a good piece of historical fiction. It takes a time about which much is known and brings to life certain characters about which slightly less is known. The major events of the film happened; and likely happened in the way they are depicted. The relationships between the characters may or may not be true, but are a reason to watch the film. The New York Times‘ film reviewer said, that there is no sugar coating on the difficult subjects and certainly, horrifying events like the destruction of the library are shown in almost gory detail. The sins of humanity’s past are laid bare for us to see. And for us to wonder whether or not they are truly in our past.

I don’t want to give too much away, but I found it to be a rousing film for feminists, historians, and atheists alike.

Perhaps the most interesting part for me was the depiction of the Christian morality police, the Parabalani (here is the Catholic Encyclopedia entry and the Wikipedia one, which is mostly just copied, although there are some word changes which make it a wee bit more objective. Their depiction in the film was quite interesting. The Mutaween they were not, but they were certainly violent defenders of the [Christian] faith.

Definitely worth watching, whether to enjoy the rich visuals of Hellenic Egypt, to savor the ever-wonderful storytelling of Alejandro Amenábar, to bask in the feminism of the world’s first-known female mathematician (and astronomer and philosopher), to stick it to the Christian man by enjoying a world where pagans held power and Christians were the rioting mob, or to revel in the antitheistic message of a time when violence ruled all religions—just like today.

Bear with me, here.

I listened to the preacher as he told me what to do
He said you can’t go hatin’ others who have done wrong to you
Sometimes we get angry but we must not condemn
Let the good Lord do his job, you just pray for them

I pray your brakes go out runnin’ down a hill
I pray a flower pot falls from a window sill
And knocks you in the head like I’d like to
[…more creative "prayers"…]
Just know wherever you are, honey, I pray for you

Here’s the vid:

And if you act before Tuesday, the video’s a free download on iTunes. Lyrics.

This seems to me like the kind of petty “prayers” that most people actually pray. Of course, they’re just as petty in the positive: “I pray that my brakes work today” is trusting to some Great Unknown something that is better entrusted to a car mechanic (or yourself, if you work on your own car). Someone posted on fb the other day that she asked for our prayers because there was a fire and her “family’s cabin is in real danger”. So (a) God cares about her family’s cabin’s survival and (b) I can change God’s mind about it. WTF‽ If the Divine cares about anything, it should be millions of children dying of malaria, AIDS, and dysentery, not some PWW’s second home.

Of course, this song also reminded me of my favorite Irish prayer:

May those who love us,
Love us.
And those who do not love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by their limping.

Even if one does believe in a Divine Who cares what our prayers are, wouldn’t the Divine be offended that we ask for such petty things? Or even more, wouldn’t the Divine dislike that we spend so much of our energy praying for evil?

I just saw Agora (which I’ll review later) and, at one point, a man who has just converted to Christianity starts to pray the Our Father; but he forgets the words and ends up praying perhaps the most pure prayer I’ve ever heard: “Lord, please don’t let anyone suffer. Don’t let anyone suffer; don’t let anyone suffer […] Amen.” Now that is a prayer I can get behind (as long as it’s backed up with some actions toward that goal).

Today’s highlights:
- sat through a project post-mortem/review meeting. Considered it a glimpse of story critique sessions I’ll experience…soon!
- tried to chat with Jana via skype but the internet gods did not cooperate.
- that’s actually it. work work work. had pizza with the kiddos while laughing at the close of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It’s great raising geeky kids.

I’m trying to hold to the commitment to post every day, but I will allow myself to post next to nothing on some days. Here’s a clue about what I had for lunch today:

Busy day, filled with work projects, family, and exercise. No writing. Tomorrow!

This video shows one of my classmates attempting a “dyno”–that’s short for “dynamic movement.” A dyno is essentially jumping to grab a hold that’s otherwise beyond your reach. There are a few things that this poor quality video doesn’t quite get across:

1) The angle of the wall is such that every move, for relative n00bs like us, is a battle against gravity.
2) The hold we’re trying to reach looks close to climber from the ground, but looks UNREACHABLY far away from the climber’s perspective.
3) The climber in this film is a handsome grad student from Barcelona and is a nice human with a beautiful Spanish accent. If he’s single, you should consider him a “catch.”

I made the same attempt a few minutes earlier. I climbed up so that I was where you can see him in this video, and thought, “this is fucking impossible. If I can only overrule my instinct, I’ll just jump and see how close I get.”

I made the same attempt, and I fucking nailed it.

It took me three tries. The hardest part was convincing myself to let go of the wall, to leap up and behind me, and to trust both my belayer (the same dude from Barcelona) and my ability to grab the hold just below the lip of the overhang. The first time I touched air. The second time I swiped it. The third time I caught it, hung, and pulled myself back onto the wall. My grunt of exertion and surprise was probably heard across the rec center.

This was after an hour of climbing where I felt completely off. I was surprised at how weak and sucky I was tonight. In retrospect, I think it had a lot to do with the fact that my substitute instructor, who was belaying me during that time, was paying more attention to chatting up fellow climbers. Nice guy, friendly guy, but the trust I have for the classmates who have been belaying me for the past couple of months is almost tangible.

I trusted them enough to take that leap of faith, when they were belaying me under the overhang.

I deserve the beer I’m drinking right now. I worked hard today moving projects forward, taking care of the kiddos, jumping off rock walls. I was witness to inspiring acts of generosity from friends and from strangers. If I can complete my final draft of my zombie story and get a bit of reading in before bedtime, this will be a ***perfect*** day.

Geeez. I love you all. I love life.

Only for another ten days!

I’m learning something–I seem to be most successful at writing if I make it my first priority of the day. Today I completed a rewrite on a 1300 short short and got an excellent critique back. Then other things, important things, took over: workworkwork (“Goooooing through the motions~~~”), cooking dinner, teaching GameBoy how to fix a flat tire. By the time I was sitting at my computer again, I only had the energy to look up YouTube clips of “Once More with Feeling”, the Buffy musical episode.

I should note that work has gotten crazy in part because I’m trying to get everything ready to run without me for six weeks. It’s for a good cause, so I can’t complain.

So that was my day. A burst of writing early on, then work and family. No exercise, but tomorrow’s a climb class day. How was yours?

My best friend Chris, who got me into Mormonism (I forgive him), also got me into 80s heavy metal and 70s progressive rock. I remember sneaking out of Architectural Drafting class, heading over to Chris’ house and sitting in his bedroom, wearing my jean jacket and threadbare cons and listening to Black Sabbath, or Iron Maiden, or Pink Floyd, or Rush (another good thing from Canada).

One Rush song, “Mission” off the Hold Your Fire album, was an anthem of sorts throughout my 20s. I identified with the yearning to be like the great artists, writers, filmmakers, architects, musicians:

When I feel the powerful visions
Their fire has made alive
I wish I had that instinct-
I wish I had that drive

They possessed something–or rather, something possessed them–to create:

Spirits fly on dangerous missions
Imaginations on fire
Focused high on soaring ambitions
Consumed in a single desire

In the grip of a nameless possession-
A slave to the drive of obsession-
A spirit with a vision
Is a dream with a mission…

I listened to it over and over again, and I even printed the lyrics out and posted them above my desk, maybe in the hope that if I listened to them often enough, that I, too, would be possessed.

The song came up randomly during my ride today. And for the first time, I felt like I was one of the ones they were singing about, rather than one of the ones doing the singing. I am possessed, obsessed, and consumed. I have finally caught the flame. Maybe I’ve been at my dreams long enough that I held “the flame till the dream ignites.”

I’m ready to burn brightly, and to spend myself in creation. I’m willing to pay the price. I’ve begun to pay it, as I get ready to separate myself for six weeks from family, friends and to immerse myself in my vision of becoming a successful writer:

We each pay a fabulous price
For our visions of paradise
But a spirit with a vision
Is a dream with a mission…

I love Natalie Merchant. I especially love the name of the album this is off of (Motherland; from her, it doesn’t sound nationalistic but goddess-centric). This song especially speaks to me for some reason. I imagine each verse sung by an earlier generation of women, each who fell victim to what she warns against; each child at her knee the child of Him Who she warns against.

[He'll] take you where the waters rise so high and run so deep.

Love love love that description of sex.

But if, by chance, you should meet:
Beware of His cold, dark eyes,
Full of bold and unholy deceit.
He’ll tempt you with a whirling pool of lies
And promises He’ll deny that He will never keep.

If that’s not the voice of experience, I don’t know what is.

(Another version; listen to part of the official version at her website; also, this is one of the greatest songs ever written.)

Maybe you’ve wondered about my new passion. I know that it’s a question I’d like to explore myself. Climbing has become increasingly important to me in the past half year or so, and sometimes I feel a little alone in my passion for the activity. I wonder sometimes if climbing doesn’t seem (to others, looking in) frivolous, or over-zealous in the light of my other priorities (like writing).

I think I’m falling in love. Corny, I know, but I don’t know quite how else to describe it. Climbing has awakened a passion in me. It makes me feel alive, makes me want to be the best person I can be, physically and mentally and spiritually. I want the whole-body physique capable of fighting gravity for hours, the will to push through my personal limits, and the tranquility of mind that quiets fear: of heights, of death, of failure.

Today I looked at a bouldering problem, and, judging by my recent attempts, thought that there was no way I could make it, but thought I’d give it a shot. Soon, I was suspended with my back parallel to the floor about five feet up in the air, grasping a couple of sketchy holds with quivering arms while I applied recently acquired technique and physical force to push through the crux and over the lip of the overhang. This was while being fatigued from climbing hard for the previous hour.

Which is to say that I’m learning new things about who I am. I’m this nearly middle-aged man who can’t walk without pain, and, yet, courtesy of climbing, I’m continually surprising myself. I’m growing stronger (I can do sets of pull-ups now! I could barely do two a few months ago). I’m learning that I can push past my perceived limits. And I’m finally coming to understand the preciousness of life, that we can be shut down at any time, and that we should take risks, and live fully in the here and now.

In the abstract, I think that *that’s* why rock climbing.