Stephen Bleile

It occurred to me today that the life of a chicken is  not as rosy as one might expect.  What, apart from the cramped living conditions, the same food every day, and that your species is generally associated with cowardice… what could they possibly have to be upset about?

It’s this.

Day in and day out they lay eggs, but they never have any chicks.  No one to carry on the family line – as it were.

Of course, the (presumably) limited intelligence of a chicken may shield them from the cumulative effect of so much work for so little reward.  Perhaps every day they have forgotten that just yesterday they laid some eggs, and just yesterday they got snatched, and just yesterday they were all alone in their nest.  But can their (presumably) tiny brains protect their emotions, too?

Imagine how excited you’d be if the thing you were made to do (in a chicken’s case let’s assume that’s lay eggs and raise chicks) seemed like it would become a reality and then how devastated you’d feel when that same hope got snatched away on a daily basis?  For us, much more sophisticated beings, that may look like studying hard for an exam and failing, or pouring your heart into a painting and having someone ask you who puked on your canvas, or designing a project that never has any commercial success.   I’m no chicken, but this cycle tends to do rather a number on my emotional state.

There is an old proverb that may have originated from someone studying chickens:  hope deferred makes the heart sick. (From the original: eggs removed makes a chicken cluck.)

On one hand I suppose the chickens who did, um, make it to be chickens should be quite pleased that the eggs they came from weren’t picked for omelletes.  Of course, this being rather a mental ascension, and they being (seemingly) rather stupid creatures I think  we safely assume they never climb that mental mountain and leave the valley of despair behind. (I doubt there is ‘the other’ hand -especially given that chickens don’t have hands so the whole reference is a little misguided anyways.)

Since their minds are neither sufficiently complex to remember the ordeal of the missing eggs from yesterday or to mentally ascend to a higher plain concerning their miserable state I think we have to re-evaluate our use of the word chicken in our vocabulary.  You see, chickens aren’t very chicken.

They try, fail, try, fail until the cows come home.

Since we can say that a chicken laying an egg is not a frivolous use of their time or a fool’s errand their efforts are not foolish or laughable so much as admirable.

So, perhaps all of us who have tried and failed and are afraid to try again shouldn’t be called chickens anymore.

Chickens, after all, don’t appear to be chicken.

(Brave) Sir Robin's Crest

The orated tale of Sir Robin who nearly attacked the vicious chicken of Bristol.  (Having decided against the attack, he, in the end, decided to take the chicken as his crest just the same.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4SJ0xR2_bQ

Having grown up in the church I can tell you the absolute truth on any given topic in five (or less) perfectly thought out phrases.

It’s sort of sad, really.  One of the big 3 religions can be boiled down to five (or less) kitchy phrases…

“Having girl problems? I feel bad for you, son!  I’ve got 99 problems but a Bit** aint one.”

Now that’s a phrase I can kind of get into. But it, of course, is not one of the five i heard growing up.

It’s just nice.

I suppose  the problem with boiling down truth to simple sayings is the answers come off a little bit patronizing or childish.  (Other than quid est veritas – the Latin for “What is Truth?” which seems a perfectly reasonable saying.)

What about, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

OK. Thanks. Now I’m really confused.

Could it be that the Gospel of Jesus is slightly more deep -even murky-  than I was lead to believe as a child?  Could it be that the little phrases have made it look deceptively shallow? – Like one of those clear pools in the mountains that look to be about 2 feet, but are actually 40′?

Here’s another good one (like the above also not found in the Bible.)

“Make Jesus personal Lord and Savior of your Life.”

Um, What?

I have absolutely no idea what that means.

I’m not advocating a new theology.   I’m just saying maybe HOPEFULLY God is more than a bunch of phrases. (I hesitate to post this – only because Christians can be the most cannibalistic people on the internet.)

I hope God is really an independent agent who is sovereign to do whatever he wants.

The phrases don’t work anyways.

When Jesus instructed people to “come as a child” I don’t think he meant “be childish and hang your hope on kitchy phrases.”

Jesus is real and He is more than a feeling  (Thanks Boston) of being in control because of the power to use phrases.

I hope Jesus hasn’t been abandoned as a result of the 5 (or less) answers to every one of life’s problems. It would seem a shame to dissuade an adventurous  cliff jumper with the wrong information on just how deep the pool is.

The job of monitoring the vast storehouse of information, experience, thoughts, feelings -and your reaction to them all- has been assigned to a rather amicable little robot called introspection. (For fear of copyright infringement I won’t point out that is like something you might have seen on Wall-e, but, off the record,  it is quite similar.)

It wonders the immense warehouse of your soul, mind and spirit checking the feelings pressure, monitoring the strength and weakness levels, double checking the insecurity read outs, gauging your optimetrix on the optimimometer (a device which measures optimism and pessimism), and gives you, its faithful companion, readouts.

And there is nothing that delights the little robot more than providing read outs. Read outs on your feeling.  Read outs on how your memories are interacting.   Read outs read out read outs.  It is capable of computing millions of readouts per second and excels at combining even the most extraneous data to produce new (you guessed it) read outs.

Introspection was designed by the body to provide information to you, its faithful companion and provider of new information.  It will not be offended if you reject its findings or decide not to use the information it presents.  It is quite content to provide more read outs read outs read outs.

You can send it on specific missions or it will roam at its own providing you with more read outs read outs read outs.

Since its job is not to analyze the data Introspection was specifically programmed with the ability to provide and believe data that is seemingly contradictory.  When recalling a conversation with a friend your happy feelings may produce happy memories of the conversation and the robot will take great delight in printing a read out.  The next day, let’s say it’s not a happy day, your memory of the same conversation may provoke jealousy.  And the robot will be equally delighted to print a new read – paying no mind to the last.

Because of the amicable nature of the robot and the efficacy of its actions many people can become enamored by it.

This, of course, can represent a whole range of problems.  If, say, you are watching Introspection at work you may fail to notice the light has changed and earn a honk from the angry person behind you.  Or, if while reviewing some read outs you realize that two results produce a paradoxical conclusion. You may attempt to believe both simultaneously.  (I am happy about my friend and jealous of her.) People, not programmed to believe disparate information, often find themselves in immensely uncomfortable situations as a result.

Introspection prints read outs.  Day and night.  It is our job to decide what to do with them.

Intro and Outro. The unexpected elements of a great story.

Introspection looks in.  It puts you at the center of your focus.  It is a mirror to look at yourself.
Outrospection looks out.  It makes other people and situations the focus of your attention.

Like the intro and outro of a story they both have a place.

Introspection is the doormat to your life story.  It is where the greatest adventures will begin and end. It is where you will learn about yourself.  It is where you will see your strengths and weaknesses.  In the end, though, it is mostly just a good place to wipe your feet.

Outrospection lifts our eyes from the muddy doormat to the bright red door of opportunity.  It sees people’s needs, it sees what could be, it amalgamates the information gained from introspection with what it sees in the world ‘out there.’

Every great story that I can think of features people who have struck an organic relationship between these two elements.  They temper one with the other.

>Gandhi tempered his awareness that he needed to eat with the knowledge that his people were dying.  Because of his strong sense of justice he decided that he would pay the personal price.  For an interesting read on Gandhi check this out: http://orwell.ru/library/reviews/gandhi/english/e_gandhi

>Jesus, though moved with compassion for the multitude also took time to be alone in the hills.

>Tevye, the dairyman and father from Fiddler on the Roof watched in dismay as his children broke with tradition and as a pogrom was affected on his town.  He was aware of how his children felt and sacrificed his own convictions for them.  He always took time to talk and walk with his own thoughts and God.

>Bob Dylan was aware of what was going on.  He wrote songs that inspired a nation and a generation.  Songs of immense personal searching and reflection on the happenings of the day.  The crowd wanted him to lead them in their revolution.  He knew he was a voice and not a savior.  He complained of people pursuing him – preferring to live a quiet life. Of all the super sensations of the musical world he is one of the few with no self destroying drug addictions.

The list goes on and on.  I would be surprised if you could think of a story where this dynamic relationship did not exist.