~ I HEAR THAT Hawai’i is a lovely place– my entire extended family (except me & She-Binks, and my departed Mother), and even my kids have been. Yes, it’s part of my family heritage. Not sure what or how many identity points that wins me. Pretty sure it makes me better than most of you, so there.
My Great-Grandparents Rose & Ben moved there at some point, and that’s where they brought up their kids, including my paternal Grandmother Jean. She was always brown as a nut, even after living in Canada for decades, as were her siblings back on the Islands. Currently, I have uncles, aunts, and cousins there.
So you’ll understand my concern watching the present volcanic doings of Kilauea, on the south-south east of The Big island. It’s big doings, and we’re small in comparison.
The Place To Be!
The Islands are a verdant garden paradise– from the 1900s onwards, they became a large part of American popular culture, music, sports, art.. and military-political manipulation, and an destination as a tropical paradise for tourists & residents.
Yet there’s a big serpent in this paradise. For Hawai’i the Island is still actively growing, building, expanding, and making new land. Kilauea is a very active shield volcano, geologically speaking. The many blessings of Hawai’i come from its geological origins.
The newest volcano in the chain already exists, only under water on The Big Island’s flank: The Lōihi Seamount, almost due south of Kilauea. It’s growing, and is already only 975 m (3,199 ft) below the surface, and towers 3000 m (10,000 ft) over the ocean bottom.
But the possibilities are worse than eruptions, or underwater volcanoes.
An article from Berkeley has been making the rounds, and I learnt about the ‘Hilina Slump’ area near the Kilauea crater. Turns out that in the past, this area has shed giant parings of land down the side of the Hawai’ian seamount. You can even see them on Google Earth.
Such Volcanic activity is not just dangerous because of lava, volcanic fog, ash-fall, earthquakes, sulfuric acid fog lava haze, widespread destruction– but also potential catastrophic slumps of land & resulting 1000-foot high tsunamis. All this has probably been going on ever since this hot-spot has been making islands all across the Pacific Ocean.
The other day, after a 6.9 earthquake, The Hilina Slump moved over 2 FEET in a day. Yeah.
Sadly, despite the many evacuees, it is said by some that Hawai’is governor is in the pocket of BigHotel, and has been downplaying the danger, alerts, and evacuation orders, even though many thousands are in direct danger of being affected in the next few days and weeks. Likewise, government agencies are downplaying the risks. You know, cuz tourism is the most important thing. COFF
Finale, In Contusion
So say a prayer for Hawai’i, it’s residents, and everybody anywhere near it should the worst come to be. As it is, living near active volcanoes can be pretty unpleasant: this current activity is severe, and I hope and pray it doesn’t get worse– or much much worse. ~
~ SO THE OTHER DAY, The She-Binks was out with a friend over tea, and while they were chatting, happened to mention a certain small resort in rural Nova Scotia. She had her smrtphone with her, on the table. She hadn’t googled that place, or anything like: just spoken words.
Two days later, advertising banners for that small resort showed up on her smrtphone. She was underwhelmed. and came to mention the strange occurrence. Somebody had been dropping some eaves.
Lesson? They Are All Listening. Presume so. To EVERYTHING within earshot. To your confessions, married special-time, private business chats, secrets, dinner conversation, family fights. Anywhere these computerized phones are present, BigEar may be listening in.
Our Electronic Mini-Masters?
I don’t have one– my last was a fancy flip-phone. But I presume my iPad is listening, and her smrtphone, and the two boy’s smrtphones.
When you think about the brain-effects, spying, and biological effects of smartphone & cellphone technology– and the rising number of cancers which might be linked to their use– it strikes me that this is a giant socio-biological experiment with no permission or parameters, introducing many good and bad factors into daily human life, often from toddler on up. Experiment. Like on rats.
For those of us geezers raised in the pre-smartphone/ social media era, all of this is an add-on technology, which can multiply our existing curiousity, wonder, imagination, habits of being & learning & socializing. It’s a power-tool of sorts.
Quick: Example Us, Binks!
SO, for example– I’m currently reading Nigel Tranter’s Margaret The Queen. When I’m reading a book (dead tree or Kindle), I will constantly be looking up places, definitions, pictures of the places, historical summaries, art, related literature, and other interesting detail to flesh out the book. It becomes three-dimensional learning, based on my older trained & ingrained pre-digital habits.
What of the screen-addicted younger people raised in a time who have never known the old ways of curiousity, imagination, extrapolation, a love of learning and the intellect at play? I’m worried that endless music-playlists, SnapChat, InstaGram, flickering bytes and images which go by like dead leaves in a windstorm make it harder to develop those older qualities, which are not simply a “Different” form of intellectual and mental life, but the kind that is thousands of years old, and which built & sustained Western Civilization for thousands of years. Are our kids and grandkids being mentally flickered to death?
Who Did This? Not the Kids
Even if older generations find smartphones are manageable tools, it is a false logic to assume that people raised on them will turn out likewise. It’s that same thing with TV addiction in my youth: the idiot box ate your time, gave you a lazy brain, and– it turns out– wound up aggression even as kids were passively drooling before the one-eyed God.
Smartphones & digital technology are super-TV on meth & cocaine, doing untold damage all around us, even as we look on, semi-uncomprehendingly. “Kids today”, we moan, forgetting that every society creates exactly the kids it deserves. Think about it. ~
–> Book Review: “An aspect of particular importance is his telling how young men who are both non-homosexual and who believe in traditional Catholicism are weeded out of the seminaries and barred from becoming priests. The new orthodoxy isn’t passive; instead, it actively screens out those who don’t fit its mold. The existence of this ostracism is perhaps the main thrust of his book.” [my emPHASis]
~ MOST PEOPLE IN THE PEWS, assuming the best, think seminaries and theology schools are holy centres for imparting piety, learning, wisdom, and Christ-like zeal to new clergy.
“Surely,” they suppose, “such places are little outposts of God’s Kingdom on earth, training up our ministers and priests into fine examples of preachers, teachers, pastors, and human beings.” You know, just like universities in 2017 are centres of learning, calm scholarship, and imparting the wisdom and skills of the ages to young and eager minds. Not unreasonable– but naive in 2017.
Because, The Asteroid.
The Truth-Shattering Kaboom
When the Awesome Utopian World Revolution™ was slow a-comin’ after the 1800s and the bloodthirsty Soviet revolt, Communists and Socialists decided to go after All The Things. Schools, and universities; governments; culture and media; business and Charitable Foundations; and especially all the churches. Afterwards, the outside would still appear the same– think all those hallowed & Ivy-clad towers of academe– but the inside would be radicalized beyond all recognition. The key was and is to keep the ordinary suckers mostly clueless, and still attending & paying for it all.
This group of fellow travellers were the Frankfurt School, and they taught the ideas and techniques for subversion. Imagine something which looks & sounds exactly like your dear Auntie Mabel, but she’s actually a pod person replacement.
For the churches, the same process that we see bearing fruit now in North American and European centres of higher learning– ignorance, violence, propaganda, safe-spaces, and a lock step progressive/ soft-Communist ideology which brooks no opposition, especially in the extremist professoriate. This same mutation has been ongoing since the early years of the last century. Those boys who died on the beaches of Normandy? Behind them, at home, the rot had begun to quietly settle into the very institutions and society they were fighting for Over There. A bittersweet thought.
Naming Names & Details
In his heart-breaking book Goodbye, Good Men: How Liberals Brought Corruption into the Catholic Church, Michael Rose details the 1990s American fruit of this process– how Catholic seminarians were and are bullied, brow-beaten, threatened, and charmed or coerced into hoop-jumping and ideological mutation– even homosexuality and heresy. If you are at all “rigid™” (believe the faith), or “sexually immature™” (same-sexuality, its militancy, and that many of your fellow students and some professors were barely in the closet), you’d be black-balled– not only from that school or diocese, but almost all of them.
Young vulnerable students have left such places of mis-education utterly broken, or having lost their faith, or become radicals; older experienced students come away aghast, stressed, and boggle-minded at the horrid politics and brutal abuse of the faith and lives of people offering themselves to the Church as potential clergy or priests. Faithful souls are being sacrificed on the altar of political correctness at such places year in and out.
A Lovely Outpost Of Hell
“Pish-posh!” you scoff, “Pish and posh! How bad can it be, really? Surely we must put our trust in such reputable and accredited places to help the church provide decent future leaders for itself.” Pish-posh?.. except, I’ve been there.
The Atlantic School of Theology sits on some muy pricey real estate waterside in Halifax’s wealthy South End. Ironically, some of the Leftist professors in my day lived in small mansions, and many students lived on campus, or in nearby apartments. Looks very spiffy & hallowed, eh? Local Anglicans, United, Catholics, and even Unitarians, go there.
True Story– I Was There
When I attended in 1987-88, one of my professors was a pro-wicca (sorry, “wymyns spirituality’) lesbian, who seemingly predated on some of her female students every year. Another was apparently an all-but-avowed Communist. Still another was openly homosexual (although the best educated and freshest prof there by far).
Another faculty member was a glorified BA, who most assumed was a Ph.D. The liturgy expert (always beware those) was a bitterish radicalized nun, who loved everything about Vatican II, nothing before, and made it clear that the slightest dissent (from The Dissent™) was not welcome. Yet another wonky Roman Catholic teacher told us during the Intro To Theology 101 class that the most important thing in reading in St. Augustine, was what we thought the saint meant. Uh?
Other faculty taught as unquestionable Gospel only the most radical of theories about the Bible, morality, social justice (Marxism), theology, and the like. Our textbooks were mostly in the same line– a critique of classical Christianity, without ever actually teaching what the content or practice and worship of that faith properly was…. Er, oops.
Such A Friendly Place
There was a remarkable amount of smiling and superficial bonhomie, hugs, and slightly creepy touching. Yet at every point, you were always under ‘pastoral’ surveillance for any ‘disaffirming’ (non-radical) opinions on theology, God, abortion, divorce, homosexual marriage, feminism, homosexuality, women clergy, the creeds, and political & social issues of the day. Warms the old cockles.
In fact, if you weren’t sporting a rictus (or smirking) and faux cheery-looking and accepting of everything & everyone at all times, that was suspect, too. Malcontent? Critical? Unpastoral? Grim? Judgmental? Not gruntled, or not with The ‘rich & challenging’ Program™?!?
Not only the professors and ‘academic supervisors’ were on the snoop, but your fellow students were also watching for non-non-conformity, or ‘nurturing community’. Snitching (or “sharing pastoral concerns about X” with the leadership), I suspect, was encouraged.
Step out of line, be non-affirming, rigid, sexually immature, judgmental, narrow-minded, or dare question a prof? BAM. You risked a low grade, a black mark in your permanent record, being shunned by your fellow students and the faculty, and a non-recommendation for ordination. A nice little ‘Christian’ Gulag Archipelago nestled right there on Halifax’s Northwest Arm.
Nurturing. Pastoral. Caring & sharing. Awwk. Even some of the more progressive students found the place rather a joke, and more than a little oppressive. TO be fair, not all of them were “true believers’ like most of the faculty was then.
Like Sheeps, No Shepherds
Sadly, many of my classmates were ‘second career’ mature candidates, with little or no university background, or relevant studies. Some were nice people, but barely able to write a term paper. Others were like innocent sheep before the sophistical and practiced academic brow-beating of their wolfish profs– academics who could and did at any moment crush hopes & futures with a bad review, or a word to your bishop or sponsoring group, or sneering and mocking of your ‘naive & pietistic’ faith in class.
Behold the ‘tolerant, affirming, open & flexible’ Revolution. It’s mind-warping and soul-crushing– and designed to be that way, precisely so you will imbibe and parrot the revolution and not The Christian Faith, then spread the infection to others. Or else.
Problem was, I came fresh to the place with a hot double BA in history and Philosophy/ Religious studies. 4.1 GPA. I’d been pushed for Ph.D work, but wanted to do parish work first, then a doctorate. “Narrow-minded and conservative, but warm and cuddly” was my motto for AST.
What Fresh Hell?…
The daily worship at that school was predictably freakish– almost weekly the furniture was moved about, and we might get an angry feminist liturgy one day (with confession prayers only for the males present); or else rainbow stoles & vestments; a pro-Sandinista/ Liberation Theology homily the next; some women galumphing liturgical dance in polyester and chiffon the week after, and then maybe Gaia-Mother Earth and native prayers scheduled for next time.
All this with a progressive/ Marxist post-Christian slant, all done very self-consciously and badly, even if robed or clothed in old-sounding forms. Missing out, or non-enthusiasm (eek!), or non-participation (GASP!) was duly noted.
For my own class of first-years, I ended up as unofficial spokesman, despite my odd-man out status. When I announced I was leaving that school for another, several of the feminists– much to my shock– were openly upset (this, in the class poorly co-taught by The Feminist & The Communist.. one day, we even did colouring with crayons). As we discussed my leaving, a young woman classmate broke into tears, and actually said to me “But who will protect us from the professors, and ask all the right questions?”
PROTECT. They knew. What a sad commentary, that. I almost stayed. However, after those same profs tried (and failed) to give me a rotten mark, I knew the fix would be in if I remained there.
Spiritual Mass Murder
Why is the church shrinking, and why are so many clergy so weird? How did we get here?
This spiritual holocaust of the future leadership of the Church has been going on now since I was born… that’s two or two-and-a-half generations of mistreatment, mutation, abuse, radicalization, mis-education of the very people who are supposed to set forth the Gospel to the Church and world, lead on moral, social and theological questions, and save souls unto heaven. Instead, we have hard-progressive or squishy or compromised and shallow clergy, many of whom may mean well, but who don’t have the education or spiritual resources people think they do, and that they should have.
The Canadian & U.S. (and U.K.– Google ‘Maynooth Scandal’) Roman Church clergy formation system has it very bad, but most of the protestant schools are close behind them. It is a horror story, a tale of abuse of trust, fraud, authority, rank heresy, and cruelty.. and a cynical exploitation of the innocent students and financial supporters of such places.
But Wait, There’s Moar!
So what? Here’s what.
(1) Don’t EVER assume your clergy have had a proper education, spiritual formation, or that their cleverness in the pulpit is worth listening to. Test the spirits. Seek out the good ones, and help, pray for, and support them.
(2) If you or someone you know or care for are thinking about going into the clergy, warn him to do lots of deep research, interviews, and fact-checking about the places they are considering. Some are outposts of heaven, most are sinks of hell, or wastes of time.
(3) The “clergy selection processes” in many parts of the church are geared against non-radicals, and are as impartial and fair-minded and godly as an ecclesiastical Gestapo. The gatekeepers are meant to weed out the “difficult”, and pass through the malleable, the naive, the well-meaning, the clueless, or the people who can conceal their real selves and just go through the motions.
(4) If you or any wealthy person you know thinks piling money, bequests, and donations into such corrupted places of clergy malformation is a great and pious work, think again. Starve these progressive outposts of post-Christianity of cash, and do your research properly. Don’t unwittingly aid and abet these outposts of darkness because the people seem nice, and it’s a fancy old building, and the profs talk all holy on founder’s day.
(5) If you’re stuck at such a place, keep your head down, keep in touch with allies outside the place who can vouch & fight for you when the hammer comes down, and do your own course of studies in all the major areas, with the best authors, so you’ve actually learned something in your time. Be friendly and happy.. the predatorial system has broken better far people than you, and spit them out like ground-up bones. Pray, pray, pray without ceasing, for yourself, your fellow students, and your professors. Prayers of light exorcism may also help. You will be scarred, hurt, and mistreated.
Finally, In Conclusions
This abuse-scandal has been largely hidden for 50 years and more, and books like that of Michael Rose– though dated now– lift the rug on the creepy-crawlies, filth and dirty secrets of the radicalized Church, which has captured many ecclesiastical institutions, yet pretended to be the same as before.
And no, DON’T go to the Atlantic School of Theology in Halifax, Nova Scotia, for any reason whatsoever. Don’t give to it, or support it. Very pretty landscape, though. ~
IT STILL SITS as the second highest grossing movie ever: James Cameron’s 1997 Titanic, by James Cameron. $2,186,772,302.00 and change. Not a great flick, but a good one. Personally, I’m just as impressed by the fact of James Cameron’s one-man submarine trip down 7 miles to the bottom of the Marianas Trench…
Our world is the Titanic: and what you think is going on in life or the life of the world depends very much on what part of the voyage you focus on. I explain.
For some, we’re on a journey in a mighty vessel to the new world, just over the horizon. Full speed ahead! What could possibly go wrong? Look.. all the best people are here, and agree with us! Moar caviar!
Not long after, the speeding unsinkable shears off countless cold-brittle rivets on an iceberg. The designers had not imagined such a thing, nor prepared for it. As the bow settles, water will keep moving backwards over the watertight bulkheads, until.. doom.
Me, I’m a “life is bow-settling” guy. Death– the water– is creeping up surely and unavoidably. Order is breaking down, people are scrambling for lifeboats, and while some are going full-panic or full-denial, others are trying to abide by their duty, and to help as much as possible, as the Great Ship Utopia begins to founder in earnest into the icy North Atlantic.
Utopia, Right Ahead!
For many modern day Utopians– this-worldly salvation true-believers– it is in human reach and wisdom to make heaven on earth. Human beings are basically good, and just need enough browbeating, herd-mentality, and extra rules, and we will make a perfect world out of our super-duper selves.
Bizarrely, the very hubris of the modernist movement that built the Titanic and infected politics, and has also infected the Catholic Church. The clueless notion that the 1960s Church would “Listen to the World”, that we needed no redemption just a little buffing, and all would progress together in a la-la-land journey of common purpose and happy thoughts.. the Denial-As-Faith it took place in an actual sinking-Titanic world.
Consider– at the same time as sin and sacrifice and salvation were being thrown overboard, and a mind-boggling naiveté about human goodness and perfectibility was put on the altar, let us remember that the 20th century was the century of blood; of genocides; of industrial slaughter, of two catastrophic world wars with hundreds of millions dead, injured, made refugee.. plus, with technology abroad to have a third and very final War.
Even as the faux-clever theologians and happy-thinking bishops were trying to remake the faith into something unChristian and unrecognizable, the ovens of Auschwitz were not 20 years cold; Soviet Gulags and Chinese death-camps were brimming over; that World War Three had nearly begun a couple years before over Cuba; that despite the rush of technology and Western prosperity, that fallen human nature had not actually changed, and that we needed the Cross of Christ and His risen life more than ever.
Even the ancient pagans knew better: “Those whom the gods would destroy” they warned “they first drive mad.” Denial is a sweet addiction: but reality is always best.
Living In Dreams
As if it were 1905, and a perfect world was just ahead, out went the old religion, the Latin, the rosaries, the relics, the art and architecture: come now the felt banners and camping songs, the puppets & clowns, the moralistic therapeutic deist sermons (with a dash of revolution), of a new and sinless humanity feeling its oats in experiment and innovation and… “Iceberg, right ahead!!”
Mortality? Still with us. Human failing, cruelty, blindness, and evil? Check. Our limitations, blindness, and failed good intentions? Yup. Hurting one another, deliberately and just because? Pretty much. Violence, false belief, unspeakable deeds, a foolish naivete? Mass murder? Warfare? Always & everywhere.
Only, for all these abiding and tragic realities of our bent human nature, progressive religion has no answers, having treated as flotsam and jetsam the faith of our fathers, the wisdom of 20 Christians centuries and 15 Hebrew centuries before that; the riches of Roman Law and Greek philosophy and theatre; and all the good things of Western Civilization. Yard sale.. we have shiny new plastic things!
So the next time some smirking collar tells you all is well, celebrate yourself, God is (only) love, and love is probably God, hug a warm puppy and be happy– realize he’s trying to sell you a berth on the sinking Titanic, has no answers, no salvation to pass on to you, and is not in touch with the Real, or Jesus, or God– nor the reality of life and death and sin.
There’s more wisdom and human feeling and recognition of sin in the following Scouting campfire song than in a modernist post-Christian hymn or sermon.
The Titanic (Husbands And Wives) Camp Song
Oh they built the ship Titanic
To sail the ocean blue
And they thought they had a ship
That the water would never go through;
But the Lord’s Almighty hand
Said that ship would never land,
It was sad when that great ship went down.
Chorus: It was sad. It was sad. It was sad when the great ship went down. (to the bottom of the…) Husbands and wives, Little children lost their lives It was sad when the great ship went down.)
They were off from England
And not very far from shore
When the rich refused
To associate with the poor
So they sent them down below
Where they’d be the first to go
It was sad when that great ship went down.
The boat was about to sink,
And the sides about to burst,
When the captain shouted, “All
Women and children first!”
Oh, the captain tried to wire,
But the wires was on fire,
It was sad when the great ship went down.
Oh, they swung the lifeboats out
O’er the deep and ragin’ sea,
When the band struck up with,
“Nearer My God to Thee.”
Little children wept and cried,
As the waves swept o’er the side,
It was sad when the great ship went down.
~ DO YOU HAVE you have a friend or loved one with Alzheimer’s?
I’ve seen the amazing musical memory of such people over and over and over in nursing homes, in the ‘quiet’ wards.
The soul is still there, but a veil has fallen in the brain, and ‘Now’ is just a jumble. The past? Still very present and alive for many. That’s why they often won’t recognize close loved ones– you didn’t look like that 30 years ago. Make of them what can be made, and rejoice with them when they can.
How Do I Even..?
Bring music. Hymns (old ones); music from the time of their youth (when were they 15-30?). Sing to them and with them when they click in. Read to them form the old version of the Bible– familiar Psalms and Gospel stories, and familiar prayers. Learn up and talk to them about old news, events of past days, interests they had when younger.
I remember one dear lady in Cape Breton who was suffering from this– but she still played the organ every week for the nursing home chapel services, and almost never missed a beat. Likewise, a dear lady in a wheelchair who recognized almost nobody, and did not respond to mostly anything– except tapes of old-timey hymns, which she remembered completely, and sang along with her husband, who would bring the tape-player in three times a week. She didn’t know him any more– but she knew love, and the music and the words.
A Battle For Life
And in the face of increasing pressure & laws to kill the sick & old– here’s a pretty specific way to help, to show love, and redemption of the time, and to fight for each creature of God, and the dignity of every human being as made in the image of God.
The main problem with helping such folks is us– it feels weird, and awkward, and we wouldn’t like to be like that. Get over yourself. +
~ ITEM:RUGGED ROSARIES® = The spiritual strength, durability, and reliability of the Holy Rosary PLUS the proven strength, durability, and reliability of paracord.
+ + + + + + + + +
~ WORD HAS IT that many persons of a popistical sort have no end of problems with their cool prayer-tool: the rosary. Knotted up in tangles; spontaneously breaking into a pocket full of beads and broken wire; just wearing out.. and for Catholic men, having, well, rather girly-looking jewelery in hand.
Well, no more!
Witness two new products for the prayer-warrior in these troublous times: the military paracord rosary, and the World war reproduction rosary (seen at top)! That’s right, actual military parachute cord, able to support up to 550 pounds of weight, and ever-useful in survival, fishing, and emergency situations to tourniquets and the like; and metal bead on chain rosaries given to U.S. Catholic soldiers in two world wars, meant to survive just about anything and everything.. actual military service, travel, hiking, construction sites, rough handling, small children, and more.
For the manly Catholic men out there, both give the lie to the old saying that “rosaries are for old women”, and that they must look like tacky Victorian costume jewelry, fit for a dowager. The para-cord ones are especially suitable for military personnel, and can survive a great deal of rough accidental usage; they can hang off your belt, in your car, off your ruck-sack, or (OK, ladies, you can have one too) in your purse.
Listen TO MC Hammer!
Why? We got to pray, as noted cultural philosopher and performer of musical tunes MC Hammer has noted in one of his songs. As the chaos rises, as the persecution of Christians (especially Catholics) grows under secular regimes, and Jihadi attacks, as out souls thirst for the living God, we need the power, peace, and comfort.. as St. Paul commanded.. “Pray Without Ceasing”. Part of why our civilization is so sick? We’ve ceased to water it, ourselves, or our neighbor and various problems with patient, persistent, and powerful prayer.
Surely Binks has sold his soul for this one? Nope. The WebElf gets no Vatican kickbacks, bribes, inducement, incentive, pay-off, graft, sweeteners, sop, backhander, enticement, hush money, payola, allurement, or corrupting gift for praising up this gear, nor do I own either (yet). I just surf the web, and come across interesting answers to age-old problems, get enthused, and start talking about it online. Squee!!
What Are You Waiting For?
So drop a line to Fr. Richard Heilman and ask about his awesome 1916 Military Combat Rosary and mini prayer-manuals; or over to the paracord people of Cordbands.com’s Rugged Rosaries®, for their wide & interesting line of paracorded holy gear, and other stuffs. They have a lot of different products, scattered over several pages, so check out the entire site if you’re interested.
THERE’S A world-wide conspiracy against silence, quiet, calm, and it’s coming at us from all directions at once. For those of us who don’t do life at volume-setting 11, it’s destructive, distracting, confusing, and enslaving. All this noise noise noise noise!
Several times in the past few months I’ve waved or called out a greeting to a neighbour on the street– nope: glued to the phone, the iPod, the distractor. It got me thinking.
What To Do?
Kenny Chesney is right that our modern West is all about noise, propaganda, selling things, babble, infotainment, endless electronic demands, devices which gobble our time, our days, our hours of rest. The question, after awakening to the racket and noise, is to ask “What else is there, instead?”
Everything else ever anywhere. The all-precious electronics? Turn them off.
Leave it home. Silence the alerts. You don’t actually need to answer that e-mail or text or to see the funny new kitten video. Tell people when you’d like them to call on the phone, instead of jumping for every call like it’s the police or the lottery.
Unplug. Just go for a walk– you, God, the birds, the breeze, the bugs, the sunshine on the grass.. no disconnecting or dehumanizing smartphone or iPod or shiny thing. Take a nap. Call a friend. Give an ear to someone who could use a good listener. Real things are best: friendship, society, leaving things and people better than you found them.
Make more room in your life for quiet. Read before bed, instead of surfing or chatting or sharing that one last trivial bit of forgettable fluff.
Enquieten your soul, so you can really begin to hear and listen to yourself, and nature, and for the voice of the Lord.. that still small voice which is paved over by the avalanche of modern noise, that needy neighbour or family member or stranger who vanishes behind the distractions.
Not So Easy?
Like any overpowering addiction, it may be painful and take some time to wean yourself away from constant technophilia and hollow ‘connectedness’. Then, try to help your kids, family, friends, co-workers. Shhhh. Listen.
Wrecking balls, downtown construction Bottles breaking, jukebox buzzing Cardboard sign says “The Lord is Coming” Tick, tick, tock Rumors turn the mills back home Parking lot kids with the speakers blown We didn’t turn it on but we can’t turn it off, off, off Sometimes I wonder how did we get here Seems like all we ever hear is noise
Yeah we scream, yeah we shout ’til we don’t have a voice In the streets, in the crowds, it ain’t nothing but noise Drowning out all the dreams of this Tennessee boy Just tryna be heard over all this noise
24 hour television, get so loud that no one listens Sex and money and politicians talk, talk, talk But there really ain’t no conversation Ain’t nothing left to the imagination Trapped in our phones and we can’t make it stop, stop this noise
Yeah we scream, yeah we shout ’til we don’t have a voice In the streets, in the crowds, it ain’t nothing but noise Drowning out all the dreams of this Tennessee boy Just tryna be heard in all this noise
Every room, every house, every shade of noise All the floors, all the walls, they all shake with noise We can’t sleep, we can’t think, can’t escape the noise We can’t take the noise, so we just make noise
Yeah we scream, yeah we shout ’til we don’t have a voice In the streets, in the crowds, it ain’t nothing but noise Drowning out all the dreams of this Tennessee boy Just tryna be heard in all this noise
All this noise Can’t take the noise Can’t take the noise Can’t stand the noise Can’t take the noise