Friday, August 25, 2006

My Brain + Your Body = FUN!

Perhaps the most bizarre and heartrending story recounted by Oliver Sacks in this group of readings on neurological deficencies was that of the Disembodied Lady. In light of this tale, the notion that a person is a brain rather than the owner of one seems feasible. Though I would argue that a brain would not likely feel equally at home in a body that is not its own. The brain does not develop separately from the body it inhabits; and the body, in some respects, is a reflection of the brain, insofar as the brain is the source of self and personality. The reverse, I think, is also true – i.e., the body also exerts an influence on the brain. For instance, suppose John is a rather plain-looking, inactive fellow who is not especially mindful of what others think of his dress or appearance. He showers twice a week and, as a consequence, emits a rather foul odor. He doesn’t take care of his body. He eats poorly and doesn’t exercise. As a result of these qualities, that are at least partially attributable to his personality/disposition (i.e., his unique brain), John has been marginalized by many. He has never had any lasting friends and women are turned off by him. Thus, John has little self-esteem and a lowly self-concept. He considers himself a loner, a life-long bachelor who will likely spend the rest of his days watching old episodes of Magnum P.I. on his living room sofa with his only companion, Luscious (a portly, and mostly blind bloodhound). In this example, John’s self-image is heavily influenced by his body and people’s reactions to it. On the flip-side of the same token is the impact John’s brain (as represented by his personality) has on his body. Different aspects of John’s personality (e.g., his lethargic nature) influences how he cares for and dresses his body. Thus, though it may be right to say that much of what it means for John to be John has its genesis in his brain, I don’t think it is appropriate to say that John’s body could be exchanged for another body and it still be John in the same sense. Brains and bodies develop together; they are a unit – each reflecting different aspects of the other. To say that I would be equally me in whatever body my brain were placed in, I think, is a mistake. Being Collin Barnes is inextricably connected to my body, and vice versa. There’s more to being me than a brain: it is my brain connected to the body it was born with.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Lonesome wind blowing fearsome hot in a field of dust and locusts

In the circles I run in, people say that the longer one lives the Christian life the more he or she sees his or her own sinfulness, and consequent dependence on God's grace.

Is it possible to worship Christ-likeness? To idolize sanctification? To want it more than a real relationship with the one, true, personal God?

I'm an idealist - which inevitably makes me a critic.

Marriage scares me.

Losing the intimate connection I felt I once had with Christ scares me more.

Thank God for Bill Mallonee...

Weak One Now

it's not your promises that i don't respect
they're cold comfort when i'm wrecked
reaching blindly out for you
heard it said least a thousand times before
just keep knocking at your door
of opportunity

(but) i'm the weak one now
and i don't need your sacred cows
and it's hard to drink the dreams
mingled ashes and the might have beens
kill the spirit sell the flesh
we amuse ourselves to death
holy words on baited breath
lose their meaning in the 20th century

gold has lost it's luster
and the silver becomes dull
once i used to run with joy
now i can barely crawl
like to help you brother
i've washed my hands and dried
the steely blade of science
never hypnotized me once

Saturday, June 17, 2006

That's right, folks. I've decided to POST! A cheerful post!

Today is my birthday. I am 26 years old today.

Meghan brought me a cake with 26 candles on top of it this morning. Unfotunately, it wasn't a carrot cake, but she said she looked for one and couldn't find one (she also couldn't bake one because her oven is not lit), so she went with what she thought was the next best: red velvet. I opened the front door with a toothbrush in my mouth, and there she was with wild hair and red T-shirt and a flaming cake. She'd lit the candles in the car. She made me blow out the candles and took pictures. Silly, Meghan.

OK, OK, so this is really Meghan writing under the guise of myblistersoul, because she thinks myblistersoul has taken way too long to blog. Blog again, already, C-Biddy. Blog away!

Saturday, April 08, 2006

... the returns are so small

There are 5 or 6 books on my bookshelf about the Christian life that have done nothing but gather dust for the past 6 to 8 months. Some longer.

One is entitled "Longing to Know".

I haven't longed to know in some time.

The subtitle of another is "Straight Talk About the Power and Defeat of Sin."

I seem to be content in my sin. The rhino's horn is piercing the flesh of my chest and I'm not fighting.

All around my desk are small peices of paper with scripture verses printed on them... Bill Mallonee lyrics and the words from wholesome old hymns.

My heart isn't warmed though ... the sight of these words no longer bring a sense of awe and wonder to my soul. Instead they remind me how cold I am on the inside.

Where is my passion?

Where is my love for the One who gave His blood for a poor, helpless sinner like me?

I want to be a better man than I am.

God help me.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

my engagement came on the heels of a confession

For several months now I've been asking God to show me what idols I have in my life.

Last night I had a beer with a dear friend of mine.

I said, "God's been breaking me of my ideals."

He replied, "No, He's been breaking you of your idols... There's a difference."

All this time I've wondered what hidden idols I've had lurking in the dark corners of my heart. Somehow I thought it would be my love of coffee creamer. It wasn't.

There are no white picket fences. No golf-green lawns. There are no June Clevers in the world. And if there are, they're lying... and dying inside.

Praise God and MUCH rejoicing.


Monday, March 06, 2006

a man needs to be told

we survived our first road trip together.
you know what that means...

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Sunday morning

It's 7:55 am...

I am heading to Wal-Mart in just a moment... I need to pick up a few groceries.

But most importantly, I need to find a dow rod... why? Because her kitchen window doesn't have a lock on it... and I really want her to feel safe at home. Then I will to try to find several cans of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Tortilla soup... why? Because it's her new favorite... and because she doesn't get paid until Tuesday and she needs something good to eat. Afterward I'll drop by Albertsons and pick up a grande latte for her (made with 2 % milk)... I'll probably order it extra hot - it's really cold outside... I'll also need to grab a few packages of Splenda. . . why? Because that's the way she likes her coffee... at least some of the time. Then I'll swing by her digs and go to her front door... walk her down to my car... open the passanger door for her, and then we'll drive to church together where we will worship God and enjoy the fellowship of His people. It promises to be a very, VERY good Sunday. Praise the LORD and much rejoicing.
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