Offscreen Space
Dear Eugene,
Yesterday I talked about reaching out to the "offscreen space," and I wonder if one might think it means just a clever way to look at things, to gain a skewed perspective for some twisted reason, obscure for the sake of obscurity.
After all, isn't "offscreen space" the most stable and dependable vehicle of exploit in horror flicks cheap or not? (And that's why they tend to be cheap; anyone can pull an OS thrill effectively--door creaking off-screen, camera pulled back oh-so-slightly to reveal a distorted shadow at a hidden corner...)
So why reach out to the OS? What are we seeking?
The answer is, it all depends on the entire, fuller, holistic framework that one anchors his imagination on, within and without what is readily perceivable to us in our limited vision of the here-and-now. WYSIWYG we adamantly resist. There's something "out there"! (Can you see what's in this picture?)
Here's the transcript of a lecture from the most eminent Rowan Williams. He was talking about "Europe, Faith and Culture" but managed finally to go bravely into the deep, troubled water of humanity...as he always does.
I am getting lazy, so here I quote:
"Christianity at first refused to allow believers to take things for granted, and it gave believers the conviction that their own choices could bring them into a different order of things, invisible but ultimately decisive for the whole universe. It encouraged questioning of certain kinds – the questioning of how things were done in the Roman Empire, but also the questioning of oneself: how far did a believer still act as if he or she were simply an inhabitant of the 'given' world of Empire?
And even when Christianity became socially and culturally the majority view, the 'normal' position in Europe, the tension did not go away. Church and government still argued about who set the boundaries for public morality; and, very importantly, the monastic movement enshrined a degree of tension at the very heart of the church's life. 'Conversion' came to be the technical term for opting to become a monk or nun, because such a decision once again affirmed that you didn't have to live in the place where you were born, culturally and spiritually speaking. The Christianised world might go on its way fairly smoothly, but there was always a hidden and more drastic way of being a disciple. Even in a 'baptised' society, there were still questions to be asked.
(...) In the Christian context, self-questioning is the discipline of stripping away all external circumstance or internal habit that makes us simply feel good or safe for the sake of discovering a good that cannot be defeated by the world as we experience it or by our own failures. It sets out for the human self a journey that is a sort of reflection of the definitive story of faith: the 'Son's Course', the journey of the Son of God into a far country and his return home (both phrases from great twentieth century Christian commentators) – this is the story that for Christian believers establishes once and for all the rhythm of the world's life.
God 'abandons' the life of an isolated heaven to work out and define what divine life might mean in the conditions of a compromised and tragic world; and this definition leads to the utter failure and darkness of the crucifixion, leaving only the bare fact of indestructible love; and that indestructible reality recreates the whole world in its refusal to be enclosed by death. It is a story that insists that God is not to be found in the world except when human beings are ready to lose all that is less than God so that the indestructible may take root in them. It is a story, therefore, that naturally generates its own culture of restlessness."
The early church perceived this "double vision" very early on – "the world, the prevailing culture as it actually was, and the Kingdom of God by which the current order of things was judged."
"Our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you," Augustine said.
Hence reaching out to the Offscreen Space.
How restless are you today?
Yours, Alex
Yesterday I talked about reaching out to the "offscreen space," and I wonder if one might think it means just a clever way to look at things, to gain a skewed perspective for some twisted reason, obscure for the sake of obscurity.
After all, isn't "offscreen space" the most stable and dependable vehicle of exploit in horror flicks cheap or not? (And that's why they tend to be cheap; anyone can pull an OS thrill effectively--door creaking off-screen, camera pulled back oh-so-slightly to reveal a distorted shadow at a hidden corner...)
So why reach out to the OS? What are we seeking?
The answer is, it all depends on the entire, fuller, holistic framework that one anchors his imagination on, within and without what is readily perceivable to us in our limited vision of the here-and-now. WYSIWYG we adamantly resist. There's something "out there"! (Can you see what's in this picture?)
Here's the transcript of a lecture from the most eminent Rowan Williams. He was talking about "Europe, Faith and Culture" but managed finally to go bravely into the deep, troubled water of humanity...as he always does.
I am getting lazy, so here I quote:
"Christianity at first refused to allow believers to take things for granted, and it gave believers the conviction that their own choices could bring them into a different order of things, invisible but ultimately decisive for the whole universe. It encouraged questioning of certain kinds – the questioning of how things were done in the Roman Empire, but also the questioning of oneself: how far did a believer still act as if he or she were simply an inhabitant of the 'given' world of Empire?
And even when Christianity became socially and culturally the majority view, the 'normal' position in Europe, the tension did not go away. Church and government still argued about who set the boundaries for public morality; and, very importantly, the monastic movement enshrined a degree of tension at the very heart of the church's life. 'Conversion' came to be the technical term for opting to become a monk or nun, because such a decision once again affirmed that you didn't have to live in the place where you were born, culturally and spiritually speaking. The Christianised world might go on its way fairly smoothly, but there was always a hidden and more drastic way of being a disciple. Even in a 'baptised' society, there were still questions to be asked.
(...) In the Christian context, self-questioning is the discipline of stripping away all external circumstance or internal habit that makes us simply feel good or safe for the sake of discovering a good that cannot be defeated by the world as we experience it or by our own failures. It sets out for the human self a journey that is a sort of reflection of the definitive story of faith: the 'Son's Course', the journey of the Son of God into a far country and his return home (both phrases from great twentieth century Christian commentators) – this is the story that for Christian believers establishes once and for all the rhythm of the world's life.
God 'abandons' the life of an isolated heaven to work out and define what divine life might mean in the conditions of a compromised and tragic world; and this definition leads to the utter failure and darkness of the crucifixion, leaving only the bare fact of indestructible love; and that indestructible reality recreates the whole world in its refusal to be enclosed by death. It is a story that insists that God is not to be found in the world except when human beings are ready to lose all that is less than God so that the indestructible may take root in them. It is a story, therefore, that naturally generates its own culture of restlessness."
The early church perceived this "double vision" very early on – "the world, the prevailing culture as it actually was, and the Kingdom of God by which the current order of things was judged."
"Our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you," Augustine said.
Hence reaching out to the Offscreen Space.
How restless are you today?
Yours, Alex
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