atoms into suns

You know you've just gotten an email from a hip Australian Muslim when the email starts out, "Salams and g'day lovely bods". :)

(I'm working on the interview questions, Maryam, and will post them as soon as I can.)

I was wandering around the Internet today and ran across a link for GodBlogCon. Cool idea, I thought. It'd be nifty to get a bunch of bloggers together to talk about their faith and how they present it, how the development of ideas is different in blogs than it is in other formats, and how blogging has helped their personal faith evolve.

Unfortunately, turns out GodBlogCon is reserved for Christians only. "And so the Convention will not include individuals from other religions or Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, Christian Science, and other cultic aberration groups." (from the SIXTH section)

"Cultic aberration groups"? Suppose they meant that in the original senses of those words, or in the way it comes off?

They're welcome to have a con and invite whomever they'd like, of course, but the name GodBlogCon and the language they use to disinvite others is what's grating on me. I'm trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, since they do say right after that that "It is not [their] intention to offend anyone," but it sorta reminds me of the guy who tried to tell me once how Muslims worship that false god Allah, while Christians worship God. (Whereas Arabic-speaking Christians worship, uh, well...)

I'm tired of divisive politics, I'm tired of bad news, I'm tired of lies, I'm tired of complete lack of trust and faith in others, I'm tired of people being killed and maimed and giving away their freedoms and growing more desperate. People can't even buy crappy furniture without mortal peril. The good things are overshadowed by the offensive, inane, and awful.

As a Baha'i, I know that things will get better. I also know things have to get worse first, but I keep wondering if we're ever going to hit bottom. Every time I think we must be about there, the bottom drops again. We're down the rabbit hole, and frankly, it scares the crap out of me.

We have but to turn our gaze to humanity's blood-stained history to realize that nothing short of intense mental as well as physical agony has been able to precipitate those epoch-making changes that constitute the greatest landmarks in the history of human civilization.

Shoghi Effendi, World Order of Baha'u'llah, pg. 45

The long ages of infancy and childhood, through which the human race had to pass, have receded into the background. Humanity is now experiencing the commotions invariably associated with the most turbulent stage of its evolution, the stage of adolescence, when the impetuosity of youth and its vehemence reach their climax, and must gradually be superseded by the calmness, the wisdom, and the maturity that characterize the stage of manhood. Then will the human race reach that stature of ripeness which will enable it to acquire all the powers and capacities upon which its ultimate development must depend.

Shoghi Effendi, World Order of Baha'u'llah, pgs. 201-202

I've decided to go on a news fast. I'm becoming more and more negative and cynical, and I don't like it.

(For the record, I'm not depressed. I don't do depressed well, but I am very good at being grumpy.)

My hope is that by avoiding the bad stuff for a while I can get my shiny happy outlook back, but either way, I know I need to do something. I've been trying to figure out what kind of service I can do with my small children in tow. I haven't figured it out yet, but I think it's time to work harder on coming up with an answer. Ideas are welcome.

Fortunately, immediately after deciding on the news fast, I found My Little Golden Book about Zogg (via Making Light). Tears of laughter streaming down your cheeks is a good way to start a news fast.

I just found out that Jimmy died last week. "Night Watchman" didn't come close to covering what he did or what he was to us -- or maybe it did. Jimmy did watch out for all of us messed-up college kids far from home, desperate and depressed. Sometimes he kept us from destroying ourselves, sometimes he just broke up the monotony of another late night, always he watched over us.

Sure, the dorm had other night watchmen -- Jimmy couldn't work every night -- but it took me a couple years to really realize that they were there because Jimmy wasn't. He seemed omnipresent.

Sometimes I'd start to look for him during the day before remembering that he didn't get there until midnight.

The door at the end of the hall would clang shut, and soon you'd hear the jingling of keys and Jimmy puffing down the hall. He'd stop at every open door to say hi, see how everyone was doing, comment on whatever. Those sounds were your early-warning system to shut your door if you didn't have time to talk to him for 20 minutes when he stopped at your door. But you always felt bad doing it.

He always seemed to know everything that was happening. If he didn't see you for a while he'd ask other people if you were okay, or he'd track you down himself. If you got into trouble he'd help you handle the house manager or the CPs. If you really got into trouble he'd take on anything to keep you safe.

I was talking to him in the courtyard one night when, mid-sentence, he disappeared. By the time the scream registered and I saw people struggling at the other end of the courtyard, he was halfway there. I don't think I could've run that fast.

Jimmy would bring homemade food for the entire hall, paid for out of his own money, often on his day off. Do you have any idea how much food it takes to feed a hall of 45-50 college students, plus moochers from other halls, and still have plenty of leftovers? And to do that for ten halls on a fairly regular basis?

Now and then the Institute would try to transfer him to some other dorm, but he always fought his way back -- and his students fought to get him back. After a couple weeks, at most, he'd be puffing down the hallways again, checking in to find out what happened while he was gone. (And then he'd tell you how booooring McCormick was and how happy he was to be back with his kids again.) But, of course, while he was elsewhere he'd treat those kids the same way, making sure everyone was good and safe. They didn't know quite what to think of him. We were spoiled.

I had been thinking now and then over the past several months that I should call the EC desk, see if he was still working there (as if they could keep him away), then send him a letter. Let him know what I was up to, that I still remembered him and appreciated everything he did. I wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to place me by just my name after ten years, but I knew if I sent a picture or mentioned a couple of the people I hung out with most, he'd know exactly who I was. Then he'd wonder how my mom was doing, and if I ever married that guy who came to visit sometimes, and how are those friends doing, anyway?

So much for that.

Right now I'm in the "dammit" stage of mourning. Not anger, but sadness -- sadness that another light has gone out in this ever-darkening world, sadness for all those students who will never meet him, never have a conversation with him at 4am, him leaning on the door frame, you taking a break from some problem set.

Eri is right. We've lost our guardian angel.

More tributes and info:
In Memory of Big Jimmy
Eri's tribute
Guest book and story repository by his students
MIT News Office story
MIT Spotlight

For some time now I've had my house plan in my head. It came to me one day, the image of the house I would one day build. It's based on a house I was once in, a basic log-cabin style house. Of course, I had to adapt it to our needs -- bedrooms for kids, office, this and that. I collected little notes on things I liked and disliked about houses I've been in. Over the past year or two it's become completely unrecognizable from the house it's based on. The kitchen has moved. So has the living room. Bill discovered cordwood masonry, so it's now built of that and maybe some strawbales. I discovered the Not So Big House books, so a lot of those concepts are included. The fact that I know nothing about architecture hasn't stopped me; we'll take this idea to a real architect before the house is built, and s/he will refine it quite a bit.

This is a good example of how I do a lot of things in my life. I don't just come up with a plan and start following it; I let it fester in my brain for quite a while. In theory this is good because it keeps me from wasting effort and making lots of mistakes. In practice it's bad, because it keeps me from doing anything.

My blogging style is a good example of this. I started this blog with great ideas on what it was supposed to be, but then I let it stagnate. I'm not sure exactly what to do with it. I want it to be fairly topical, but then I get frustrated when I can't think of something on-topic to write about. I think I should just write something, anything, to just get the writing juices flowing, but I don't want it to turn into a boring what-I-did-today-and-no-one-cares-about account. On top of that, I'll often think of a topic and what to write about, but when I sit down to type it it never comes out like I'd wanted, and I've often forgotten a lot of what I wanted to say. I think from now on I'll just sit down and type, and not worry about getting it to sound exactly right. I'd rather start building and make a few mistakes than never start at all.