Peace on Earth

So, I guess it's time to spill the beans. I am writing a mini-christmas-musical, believe it or not. As surprising as this may be to you, it actually seems to be happening. "Peace on Earth" will perhaps not be as christmassy as the title makes it out to be, but a it bears a message relevant to christmas nonetheless. What was this Peace on Earth the angels sang about, is it still here? If so, where?

staying grounded

So it has started. The future, both near and far, is still very much up in the air, but hopefully it will be a little less unclear by the end of next week. I've done all I can do now though, and am trying as I write to come to terms with that fact. Some people have been more helpful than others, but that's the way it usually is, I guess. Now it is time to sit back, relax, drink a chilled drink, and read a book.

here we go again

Another short night, early morning, long day, unhappy knees, endless border control, humid heat. Fleeing from one busy life to another - changing to the same; but hopefully same will somehow be different. I'll let you know how it goes.

it never shines twice

This evening fate had it that I should end up on the couch with a bowl of ice-cream, watching the matrix. Once again I was reminded of how sequels never are as good as the original. The matrix truly is a great accomplishment. It is thought-provoking; so much more than mindless action. The original Pirates of the Caribbean is also a work of cinematic art - more on the merit of its classic blend of action, romance, and comedy than its worth for thought, but a great movie nonetheless. The sequels may well have provided their makers with a hefty profit, but they should never have been made. The originals would have been best left on their own; but art is hardly the only driving force behind cinema. A sequel can only be a good movie; it will never be great, never escape the shadow. Only an original will ever break into the light - not as something else, but as its own.

to the simple things

Sometimes it's the simplest things that make me the happiest.

- The first bite of my aunt's chocolate cake.
- Tasting the salt in the sea breeze.
- Feeling the wet sand stick to the soles of my feet.
- Having a hot drink in the middle of the night.
- Seeing the smile on someone's face knowing I've made a difference.
- Catching up with an old friend and talking all night.
- Finishing something I've been working on for a long time and knowing it is good.
- Enjoying a good book or movie.

All those good, simple things - let's do them.

trust

I guess you could say I've been having trust issues. The Christian walk is built on trust. Trusting that God is in control, that he will reign victorious, and that He has our best interests in mind. Trust is also integral to prayer; prayer is founded on the belief that God listens, and trusting that prayer is more than good for the psyche. The Bible is full of stories of how God protected His people; those who remained faithful to Him. It tells us of the glorious victories God brought the nation of Israel, yet it tells us little of the men who fell in battle. The Bible is the story of how God intervened in history, not of how He didn't. One of the few authors that takes us behind the scenes, is the author of the book of Job. Although many people claim to take comfort in Job, I can't help but admit that I do not feel the same way. We are brought to the climax, the topic of interest - why did God allow Job to suffer? Only to fall belly first to the surface, "who are you to ask questions, just trust me."

We are told to trust in God, to step out on a limb for Him, He will take care of us. Yet great thinkers such as Solomon are left distraught at the apparent lack of differential treatment between the faithful and the ungodly, exclaiming "There is something else meaningless that occurs on earth: righteous men who get what the wicked deserve, and wicked men who get what the righteous deserve. This too, I say, is meaningless." To me, this speaks of a world where God does not intervene. He may well be there, observing from afar, but this does not vouch for the God who protects those who love Him. My mind could be at rest believing in this kind of a God. A God who because of the choices we made watches the consequences of sin unfold, until the day when enough is enough. This belief could go hand in hand with what I see. Perhaps this is why anger stirs somewhere inside me when I hear stories of how God saved someone's life; how God saved them to live another day because He still had a plan for their lives; because their work for God was not yet completed. Although this sounds like a pleasant sentiment, what does it imply for the lives of those who were not saved? You are left with some very unpleasant conclusions - although you may not be aware of this until disaster strikes a little closer to home. The Bible does not offer the rationale behind God's decisions in the book of Job, but perhaps Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived - perhaps he figured it out? Alas, no, Ecclesiastes ends on a similar note to Job: fear God, he deserves it.

perspective

Travelling home to Wales for the week-end, I was reminded of the fact that the ideal method of transportation is the train. The clean interior and smooth motion bring an aura of class, despite its relative simplicity. There are neither breathtaking take-offs, nor nauseating sea-sickness. There may be no panoramic view, yet from the train the rolling hills offer their soothing beauty; which ironically goes unobserved from the aircraft. The depth of detail that is overlooked by the aviator in the clouds, may seem inconceivable to the astronaut on the moon. It seems that the brain is incapable of contemplating the micro- and macroscopic simultaneously. Perhaps this is the case for Mother Nature herself, as the Laws of Relativity and Quantum Mechanics appear to govern their respective aspects of her being.

As our eyes focus first on that which is near, then afar; so does our mind. The same way our brain gathers all the individual pictures together to produce a single, coherent view of our surroundings; our brain attempts to conceptualise our knowledge and experiences to a single, consistent truth. The instances in which our explanations fail to agree with each other are most dissatisfying. Although I have been able to accept that there may be no single law or model that can explain every observed phenomenon in nature; I am, as yet, unable to come to terms with a similar discrepancy I have been faced with in my religious experience.

Lee Strobel wrote his book The Case for Faith in response to people such as Charles Templeton, who's loss of faith can be traced to a picture of a woman and her baby child dying because of the lack of rain. How could the loving God that controls the weather let children starve to death when all they needed was some rain? He wouldn't, so this loving God who controlled the weather couldn't possible exist. I have sympathy for this man. I fail to understand how my friends, who claim that God held the rain back until after they had finished the day's street evangelism, do not have a problem with the fact that the very same God let a child in Africa die because the rain he had been praying for, the past month, never came. My religious experience is suffering, not because I do not understand the reasoning behind the doctor's decision I blogged about a few months ago, but because I do not understand how any good doctor could possibly behave as he did.


http://thereflectorblog.blogspot.com/2009/11/life-insurance.html

gratitude?

While browsing the blogosphere, I was struck by the hurt out there. We can plan ahead as much as we like, but sooner or later we will be reminded that we can't control our circumstances.

Last time I blogged about this it was because of a song I heard, now I have heard a new song.

http://www.bomb-mp3.com/download.php?mp3_id=3784889&title=Nicole+nordeman+-+Gratitude

I love the way the focus changes in the last verse, without it I'd hate the song. I think this might just be the way it has to be though, see if you get what I mean...

What do you want?

This week-end I sat on my bed reading, enjoying the time away from lab reports and quantum chemistry worksheets. Having emptied my carton of tropicana orange juice with juicy bits, I moved on to fanta orange - what a disappointment!! And yes, I do love oranges. I was left sitting there with my book wondering why I had bought fanta, what had made me think I wanted it when I was in the shop? I wanted something fruity, and the fact that the fanta bottle claimed to contain real fruit didn't help very much, it tasted fake.

Have you ever been left wanting? Having strived for something you thought you wanted, only to realise that you'd spent all that effort on something you didn't really want after all? In fact, sometimes the things we really want are the things we leave behind.

You can say many things about Invictus, it may be sugarcoated, it may be superficial, and it certainly is idealistic; but watching it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I liked the way a reporter put it: Invictus is a very pleasant and mildly stirring bowl of fettucini with a highly agreeable lead performance by Freeman. But it's not one of those ratatouille dishes that win awards and inspire raves from restaurant critics. Invictus is a movie without a personified villain, lacking excitement or twists of plot. It is, however, packed full of idealism - to the extent that I'm sure some could choke on it, yet I lapped it all up, and it reminded me of what I want.

Home

Staring through the window into the darkness I felt at peace. The headlights of oncoming traffic lit up the the road and it's immediate surroundings; the stark contrast of black on white - rocks and pine trees jutting out of the snow. Despite their cold and hostile appearance my surroundings warmed me - I was home.

As the bus drove through the falling snow I was left thinking of how everything seems to become grey as one grows older; very few things are black and white. If you asked me where home is, I'd probably say something about it being complicated, or give a simple half-truth for an answer. Most things are in fact only true to a certain extent. Science prides itself in being objective; although I could give quite a few examples, from the last few months, of my encounters with the subjectivity of science. I have lost count of the number of scientific truths I've learned, only to be told later that they in fact were gross oversimplifications. Truth is complex, it isn't simple, it still amazes me how difficult science students find defining the most basic consepts. Sure, we may be able to use laws and theories in order to perform calculations, or explain phenomena, but do we really understand them? Religious truth is no different, although there may be less calculations involved...

It is as if learning more is synonymous with the realisation that you in fact know less. Clear-cut truths are oversimplifications. Models and comparisons are great for explaining; any decent teacher uses them, but they all have their limitations. Although a fuller understanding reveals detail, and satisfies the intellect by connecing pieces one had never thought fit; it can also detract from the beauty of simple truth.

Complexity can be both beautiful and frustrating...

...as the double-decker negotiated the streets of london, I looked out through the window and felt content - I was home...

back to basics

A couple of weeks ago the Imperial College Christian Union had their annual outreach week. After much thought and deliberation I decided to give them a chance - I went to one of their meetings. I guess what caught my interest was that they were hosting the meetings in collaboration with All Souls, an evangelical church I'd heard good things about. Although I didn't go back, I never regretted going to their first meeting, it was actually really interesting.

The talk was titled Dawkins vs Jesus, is God a delusion?, which is hardly a very original title or topic, yet it was made somewhat original due to its setting. There we were, fifty or so university students, not students from any old university either - from Imperial College, the university of science geeks. It was therefore fitting that the speaker recently graduated from the sciences. His approach was to a large extent dictated by the audience - scientific, speaking about anthropic reasons for accepting God's existence, along lines similar to the likes of John Polkinghorne.

One of the points mentioned was that an atheist has no moral foot hold, nothing to base his morality on. Naturally this sort of remark provokes most reasonable people. One of the guys at my table pointed out that few people take atheistic claims to their extreme, also pointing out that most christians don't actually base their morality on solid ground either. What he said really made me think, because it is so true. One of the reasons for the multitude of christian denominations we have today, is the fact that you can make the Bible say almost anything you want. "so you base your morality on the Bible? the whole Bible?" he asked. The Christians at my table then began pointing out that society changes, and that one must consider the different genres of the Bible, thereby not placing much faith in the histicity of the book of Genesis etc...

His polite, yet still slightly mocking tone of voice when expressing his doubts about christians acutally basing their morality on the Bible has stuck with me - perhaps because what he said is so true. In fact, I'm sure his morals are in fact quite similar to mine - why then highlight our differences. C.S. Lewis does the exact opposite in Mere Christianity, arguing that it is through the universality of morals that God's existence becomes apparent. Where could this moralty, inherant to humanity across generations and civilizations, have come from, if not from the designer of the human machine himself?

I find myself tired of the intrigues and intricacies of religion, it is in mere christianity that beauty and power lies; may I never forget.

Unfaithful

For two weeks now, I have stayed faithful to my computer. My hard drive died on January 29th 2010, may it rest in peace. Although I have since bought a new hard drive, my computer still lies lifeless and cold. It amazes me that despite enquiring on both sides of the atlantic, my quest for a windows cd is no closer to being completed. All good things one day come to an end, sometimes prematurely. My dear Dell will just have to come to terms with the fact that it no longer has exclusive claims on The Reflector...

Not having a functioning computer in my room has opened my eyes to how dependent we are on computers. I can hardly imagine life as a university student without computers, despite it being reality only one generation ago. The amount of time I all of a sudden find on my hands is also rather alarming. Without my computer I actually have time to do other things; like reading and talking to people - imagine.

Although there is no doubt that I would have liked to have my computer up and running in time for the live streams of the olympics, which begin this week-end - friends come to the rescue, as they always do. This next week no less than four of my american friends are coming to London, one of whom will come bearing a mac. Without getting onto the subject of macs, lets just content ourselves with the fact that the olympics will be greatly appreciated - Holbein House, Evelyn Gardens being no exchoeption...

good for you

Games being cancelled can be annoying. Today my university volleyball team was playing away - at least that's what we thought. Walking back to halls, along the south bank of the Thames, I met two runners headed in the opposite direction; the second of whom was an overweight woman. As I was trying not to stare at her, I thought, "good for her." Now, I must confess that wasn't the first thought that crossed my mind when I saw her, but in my defence it didn't take me many seconds to change perspective.

I spend far too much time worrying about what people think. Chameleons may look cool at first glance, but who wants to be one - or have one as a friend for that matter. Last week I read my friend's post about being a hippie, and it really made me think.
http://ispeakinglish.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-want-something-more.html

Ever since I was a young kid I've wanted to be the stressed out, successful businessman on the London Underground; complete with suit, briefcase and shiny black shoes. Sometimes I forget what I really want theough, this post reminded me. I used to dream of moving to Africa, somewhere kids don't have the opertunity to go to school - and to change that. I wanted to found and run a school that was active in the community, and not only teach text-book stuff that most of the kids there never would need anyway. I didn't want to just be a teacher, I wanted to make a real difference. This may all sound like a huge cliché, and I have come to doubt that I will live the majority of my life in Africa. Yet I don't want to give up on my dream. I really do want to make a difference. My biannual depression is caused either by being over-, or under-worked. Either way life seems very dreary and pointless. I've stopped believing in merely surviving today in hope of a brighter tomorrow; ironically tomorrow turns out to be yet another today.

Sermons sometimes annoy me. Especially those in which the preacher endorses a multitude of professions for Christians. It is not that I don't believe in the principle, but I disagree with the limitations. Even if the list expounds upon the holy trinity of "doctor, nurse and teacher," the general message is still the same: A good Christian should work with people, and preferably in a role that provides the opertunity to offer others advice. Now, if this actually was the case, surely hairdresser would be on the list. After all, it is far easier to have a personal conversation with someone running hot water through your hair and lathering in shampoo, before cutting it; than with an authoritative superior telling you all the ways in which you need to change your lifestyle, while sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair in a sterile white room. Or how about working at an airport - that's certainly a place in which you can make a difference for stressed out people.

The job you have isn't important, what you make of it is. I want to be involved with initiatives that give my life purpose away from work. Reading Chelsea's blog also made me realise that I need my life to be fulfilling, and to have have purpopse now - while I'm studying. If I can't both study and be content; maybe I shouldn't be studying. I'm determined to make it work.

why should I care

Why do you care?

Men often complain that they do not understand women; some women claim to understand men. Often we don't understand ourselves. Sometimes I surprise myself, I do things I wouldn't expect the person I imagine myself to be, to do.

A few years ago I visited my brother while he was living in Poland. I remember him saying something about nationalism being stupid. Why should I feel an affinity to a sportsperson or musician from my country? Why should I feel proud, or in in fact more often ashamed, of the performance of the Norwegian football team? What decides which people or things we choose to associate ourselves with?

It can actually be quite interesting to consider which people I've made an effort to become friends with since moving to London. The first couple of weeks were full of events for getting to know people. Looking back now, it shocks me how natural it is to decide whether or not you want to get to know the person facing you - even before a single word has been spoken. He never even stood a chance. What makes you write someone off? Things like this say surprisingly much about us, uncomfortable as it may be; reflection is important.

This year I bought myself a Christmas present for the first time. When I graduated high school I was voted the funniest grouch by my peers. At times I've even been said to resemble eeyore. For as long as I can remember I've had the reputation of being rather pessimistic and negative. Despite not being willing to give up the core of my character, I have discovered the power of positive thinking. So behind drawn curtains, when no one is looking I peak into my "inspirations calendar 2010." The cover reads "The secret to happiness is not in doing what one likes to do, but in liking what one has to do." It's deeper than you think, there is some truth beneath the cliché. This calendar of mine also sheds some light on the mystery of friendship; this may very well in fact be my favourite quote so far: "A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." There is a profound beauty in friendship, true friendship is amazing. It leaves me thinking about how we choose friends. Why do I let some people in and shut others out. What makes me willing to walk three extra miles with one person, but give another the cold shoulder? Real friends stick by each other through adversity, even if one hurts the other. Yet if someone else had hurt me in that way I might never speak to him again.

Friends are picked for reasons as vain as their nationality.
I wonder how many friends I've shrugged off.

life organised

Immanuel Kant once wrote "Science is organised knowledge. Wisdom is organised life." Upon reading this my first thought is that scientists are not organized. It seems a little strange that people so infatuated with order and logic are inclined to live in such disarray. Though there are exceptions, I am definitely not one of them. When I arrived in my room on Evelyn Gardens Saturday night, it took me no more than fifteen minutes to cover my desk with papers, books, phones, calculators, folders, food, keys, saucepans etc. Now, I must add that I have seen rooms far worse than mine, like in the picture above for instance. Perhaps scientists, exhaust their potential for being organized at work and make up for it at home; or is there something inherently attractive about science to disorganised people?

Is Kant in fact trying to say that most scientists are unwise?

pictures or words?

Though words can describe beautifully, they can never capture all the nuances of a picture. Pictures say more than a thousand words, but is everything a picture says necessarily true? One of the classes I remember the best from my time at Emrys ap Iwan was one on interpreting historical paintings. Observing bias and point of view, political agenda etc. I tried teaching this to some of my students during the time I spent at Tyrifjord Skole, in Norway, this spring - with little success. I do blame this at least in part on not having enought time....

Biathlon is the one sport I actually follow dedicatedly enough to watch most major competitions. Since Biathlon isn't exacly widespread in Britain I watch the races at
http://eurovision2.feedroom.com/?&fr_chl=28f50f88ca97c97431107a5b9e494d75454fca83
The IBU streams the video feed, that goes out to all the TV channels, on their website for free. Although I don't get the commentary, half of what commentators say is rubbish anyway - so I don't really mind. After watching today's men's relay I came across a picture I couldn't help but laugh at. The picture shows the French team that won second place behind the Norwegians. The French biathletes are known for their great team spirit, often describing themselves as a big family. The two on the left are the brothers Simon and Martin Fourcade, with Vincent Defrasne and Vincent Jay to their right. Although the scene depicted no doubt is one in which the brothers and Defrasne share a joke, as Jay takes a thoughtful moment to himself; the picture might well have been analysed differently had one not already watched this scene on TV. The picture seems to be telling the story of three bullies making fun of the new kid at the bus stop - Jay playing his part perfectly with his downward gaze. Martin at the back is the instigator, with Simon and Defrasne as his accomplices. Great team spirit indeed, families at their best...

memories last a lifetime

Despite my Christmas Diaries attempt this year, I have failed to mention something I've done almost every day this Christmas. My present to my dad this year was Ticket to Ride, the award winning board game, Deutsche Spiel des Jahres 2004 und so weiter.... To make a long story short we've played it at least once, twice or three times most nights ever since. I must confess that at the game disappointed me at first. I'd played it a couple of years earlier in Norway - at least that was what I thought. The game I'd bought my dad turned out to be an American version, not the European one I'd played before. Now, that may not seem like a big deal to you; but that's forgetting that Europe is far more interesting than America in every concievable way... A couple of nights ago I figured out the way in which the creators have weighted the various missions. As it turns out two missions come with an extra bonus. With this in mind I'd like to announce my first blogotition (blog-competition): Which two missions in the US version of Ticket to Ride come with an extra bonus, and how big is it? A blog post will be dedicated to the person, first answering correctly.

I just booked a flight with Ryanair. You may be wondering what got into me - well I must confess I gave in to their low prices. As long as one can travel without checking in any bags Ryanair tends to have far superior prices, and considering my strict student budget - well you can figure out the rest. Despite all this I am left in a great mood. I'll be flying to Billund, Denmark, to attend the Nordic Volleyball Championships at Vejlefjordskolen, just outside of Vejle. My best volleyball memories ever are from playing in this competition, winning one silver, and three consecutive gold medals. Although not eligible to play, just thinking about the competition leaves me smiling to myself as I write. Oh, those good times!! Some memories last forever...