The Girl Who Kissed the Dragon Slayer

Lisbeth Salander is a tortured soul. Her childhood is the stuff of nightmares (literally), with abuse, rape and neglect figuring prominently. And she is clever: endowed with a photographic memory, a kickboxing champ and master computer hacker, she has a skill set which would make your girl friend envious, and which makes a man think twice before buying her a drink. But when life quiets down, night falls and the demons come out. Want it or not, Salanders past reels its ugly head…and pushes her to do things. We shall stop here, both so we do not spoil the plot and because this is not intended to be a film review. Lisbeth is a bit like a female Bourne (more so than “Salt”, in my opinion), and like him, she has “issues”. What makes the books and films about her (and Bourne) so popular? Is it simply the violence and suspense? I suggest not. What resonates so profoundly with many of us is the struggle of an individual to overcome the odds and wrestle with one’s demons, with the past that threatens to undo our lives. And we all have demons, small or large, things from our upbringing, things we have done or failed to do, which haunt us. Yet we refuse to believe that we are simply the fruit of our upbringing; there must be freedom, and so we cheer for the one who seems to beat the odds and affirms his or her free will. In the process many of them of course also seek out the help of a therapist, since being faster than one’s shadow is only given to Lucky Luke, not real human beings.

In the 1500s another tortured soul contemplated night, darkness and demons and made an astounding discovery. While he sat in prison where supposed friends had thrown him into, he experienced a presence which seemed to transcend and transform the night of his experience; he no longer felt alone, but understood and loved. And so his weakness was not something to run from, since it had turned out to be the gateway through which divine grace could enter his life. John of the Cross (that is his name) spends chapters and books speaking of the “blessed night” which heals neuroses, bestows peace and makes men whole. At the heart of it is the realization that there is God out there who loves humanity in all its brokenness and who indeed has shared that brokenness by becoming one of them. Therefore every experience of suffering, loneliness and dejection does no longer have to feed mental disorder and angst, but can serve as the gateway to mystical experience. I wonder what will happen if Lisbeth ever reads John’s “Dark Night of the Soul”? Might there be a sequel…?

Depression or Management Advice?

Elijah has just reaped enormous success: he has proven to the whole people of Israel that whoever the God is that he serves, he is more powerful than the gods of Baal: when it comes to a showdown on Mount Carmel, those prophets are not able to light their sacrifice without firelighters, whereas all Elijah needs to do is to call on his God, and fire comes from heaven. Unfortunately the powers at be, most notably queen Jezebel are convinced; in fact, this whole affair has only infuriated her and so she promises to kill Elijah, whatever the cost. So he flees to the desert, and there, under a broom tree, let’s off his complaint, made famous by Mendelssohn’s oratory (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8Tei4iQh9Y&feature=related):
It is enough! O Lord, now take away my life, for I am not better than my fathers! I desire to live no longer: now let me die, for my days are but vanity. I have been very jealous for the Lord God of Hosts, for the children of Israel have broken Thy covenant, and thrown down Thine altars, and slain all Thy prophets, slain them with the sword. And I, even I only am left: and they seek my life to take it away! It is enough!
A combination of genuine concern and fear, mixed with simple anger, frustration and despair. He has enough and is not interested in continuing. “I am the only one left, nobody seems to care except me, there is nobody to help, let alone to take my place.” But God is only marginally sympathetic to the prophets complaint, and does not immediately send the relief troops. Instead he lets Elijah stew for a while, before an impressive display of the powers of nature: storm, earthquake and fire. But none of those, as awesome as they are, convince Elijah of the presence of God as much as a still and quiet voice. Suddenly he understands how little he is; he snaps out of his depression and is ready to listen. And what God has to say is eminently surprising: “What are you doing here?” God asks. He then commands him to return to civilization and to appoint two kings, one for Israel and one for Aram, and a successor for himself. God does not share Elijah’s view that he is utterly alone and that nobody else can do his job or succeed him. There are others who are waiting to be enlisted, and this is what Elijah is commanded to do.
Do we not find ourselves ever so often “in the desert”, pitying ourselves for the lack of sympathy we are getting? We have slaved while others did not seem to care; nobody else evidently shares the same commitment to the cause, in fact, if you let them, they might sell off the family silver. A good thing we are there to make sure that does not happen. We are dead tired, but nothing will keep us from delegating responsibility to people less qualified than we are. And slowly but surely vision, energy and perspective seep out of us. It takes getting away from it all to realize what is really going on; in the desert, the very place we do not want to be in, allows us to hear God and like Elijah, Moses or Job remember rule number 6: “Don’t take yourself too seriously”. Ironically, once we do we become more useful again, because we do not hold things so tightly and because we look for allies and people to bring into whatever we are doing. Elijah could have been a one-man show, impressive but transient. As it was he managed to pass on to others what he had received. Who are the Elishas you and I are supposed to seek out and train?

A Conversation Between a Lion and His Master, Somewhere in North America.

T: Hi dude, long time no see! Where have you been?

F: Well, all over the place…enjoying myself.

T: Tell me more! I have missed you.

F: For starters there are many things to do here in Ann Arbor. So I have enjoyed going to the opera and to some concerts. Then we had an art fair last week, which gave me a chance to walk around town and see lots of interesting art work. I also have many friends here, so most evenings I have been out for dinner, visiting old acquaintances and making new ones. Not sure I can handle any more barbecues for a while though.

T: I understand- lots of rich food, big portions, and soon you will have outgrown your shorts, little guy! But since I have not seen you at night either it seems that you have also been further afield, no?

F: Very observant. I have gone to Lansing, an hour north of Ann Arbor. This is where you served from ’86 to ’88, at Michigan State University. So again, many old faces worth seeing. A highpoint though was going even further north, to the Leelanau peninsula. That little piece of land is surrounded by water, creating a micro-climate favourable to wine-growing. So I went wine tasting and had a more than average bottle of local Auxerrois, accompanied by barbecued (here we go again) salmon.

T: Man, for a little lion, you get around.

F: This is not at all. I also went to Minnesota, eleven hours by car. St. Paul and Minneapolis, also known as the Twin Cities, sit right on the Mississippi river. Apart from re-connecting with old friends I also toured the place: beautiful cathedrals, three superb art museums, and a play on a showboat. Very cool! What about yourself?

T: Well, I have been trying to figure out what a sabbatical is.

F: And…?

T: It’s not simply a vacation, that much is clear. It of course comes from the Hebrew word “Shabbat” which means Sabbath, day of rest. But when look more closely, for the Jews that day is not a day to be spent on the beach, but a day of prayer, study and relational interaction. In doing those things, you get refresh, restored, re-created. And then (stop me if I am boring you) academics have taken over that term to describe periods when they don’t need to fulfil their normal teaching and administrative responsibilities, so they can concentrate on research and writing.

F: So how does that apply to you?

T: Not sure, Fritz. I have tried to take more time to pray and reflect, and that has been wonderful. Simply sitting and not feeling guilty for taking another hour to read or write. I have also followed a church history course “Church and State in Europe from the French Revolution to the Present”.

F: That does not sound very restful!

T: It has been incredibly stimulating. Every week I need to do some reading, mainly original sources, and then produce a five page essay which I then discuss with my tutor Dan Keating. It has sparked many very interesting conversations.

F: My goodness, I am glad I am too young to qualify for sabbaticals. Don’t you do any fun stuff?

T: Not to worry, I do. I have had a chance, almost every day, to do some art: both reading some art history (Sister Wendy Beckett) and actually doing some painting. It has been hugely restorative, and lots of fun. For example I now know that your fur is yellow orange, but not very bright, so I need to dull it with purple to match the exact tone- if I ever paint your portrait, that is.

F: Are you ready to go back to work then? After all it has been almost two months now.

T: Not really…One interesting book I have been reading is called “Transitions”. It speaks of the need to allow the old to die before something new can grow. I feel like I have gradually been able to let go of old stuff, almost like lightening the grip on a handle. As I have done so, new ideas, inspirations and thoughts are beginning to come to me. I think that is part of what a sabbatical is supposed to be: a neutral zone allowing you to think outside the box.

F: Don’t tell me! I don’t believe Tino needs any more “thinking outside the box”.

T: Be quiet. So what are your plans for the next little while?

F: After all this socializing and travelling I feel l need of a vacation. What about yourself?

T: Same here. How about if we go off to somewhere quiet and nice, say Cleveland? I know some nice people there.

F: It’s a deal, provided you stop talking about church history and help me watch some good movies.

T: I think I can do that.

Les Américains : un drôle de peuple ! Réflexions de la part d’un lion

Pour quelqu’un comme moi, qui n’a ni l’expérience ni l’âge pour juger de façon adéquate les différentes cultures et ethnies, mes six semaines en Amérique ont été un cours d’ethnologie ravissant. Je dois avouer que mon éducation européenne a naturellement contribue a établir, dans mon esprit, des préjuges bien fermes envers le pays de Georges Bush, Georges Clooney et George Gershwin.

La première chose qui vous frappe quand vous arrivez, ce sont les grand contrastes : les villes sont énormes, mais a trente minutes de voiture vous vous trouvez dans un petit village qui pourrait servir de coulisse pour un film de John Wayne ; on est très confortable et prend la voiture pour rouler cinq minutes, mais on a naturellement un abonnement dans le club de sport ; les magasins vendent toutes sortes d’objets de luxe, mais en même temps bien plus d’Américains que d’Européens savent réparer leur machine a laver.

De même pour la politique. Le parti démocrate est bien installe et est en train d’exécuter une agenda tres libérale ; mais bien d’habitants de ce pays sont nettement plus conservateurs que nous en Europe. En fait, ils nous considèrent tous comme socialistes qui ont perdu le désir du travail et qui attendent que l’état s’occupe de nous.

J’avais toujours cru que ce peuple a une histoire tellement récente qu’il lui manque la conscience historique qui marque les Européens, mais ceci n’est pas vrai. On est très conscient de ses racines ethniques (même quelqu’un qui a vécu pour cinq générations aux Etats-Unis se considère comme « Irish » ou « Italian ») et les célèbrent a maintes occasions. Avant-hier j’ai passe une soiree dans un restaurant bavarois ou je pouvais lire le journal americo-allemand, en allemand. Et l’ histoire qui a fait de ce pays ce qu’il est a bien marque la population : l’esprit pionnier est toujours présent, la chasse, les randonnées en canoë un passe-temps fréquent. Mais malgré l’amour pour la nature on se moque du recyclage d’ordures européen.

Jusqu'à présent je n’ai que visiter le « Midwest », la région des Grand Lacs, qui est fascinante : beaucoup de noms géographiques sont soit indien (Washtenaw), soit coloniaux (Lac Mille Lacs). Ces grandes masses d’eaux ont joue un rôle important dans le développement de cette région. Le minerai de fer venait des montagnes de Minnesota vers Cleveland ; la on en faisait de l’acier qui ensuite passait a Detroit, et la on en faisait les automobiles. Les grand noms comme Carnegie, Ford et d’autres firent beaucoup de leur argent dans ce négoce et dans chaque ville de cette région on trouve encore d’énormes maisons qui leurs servaient de résidence.

Je dois donc avouer que je suis fort intéresse par les découvertes que je fais ; et chaque jour un autre de mes préjugés se trouve falsifie.

Bend Over and Have a Look

The British painter J.M.W. Turner had the habit, when studying a new landscape, to bend low and look at the scene through his spread legs. While somewhat unorthodox as an approach, this “change of perspective” allowed him to see past “colour constancy”. Colour constancy is the phenomenon of human beings attributing certain colours to objects from memory, rather than by actually identifying them by sight. So I might look at an orange, and everything tells me instinctively that it is orange. But if I manage to get beyond this instinctive reaction, then I will notice that the orange is actually partially white, in places dark brown and black, in others deep red- and yes, in some places orange. Colour constancy is such a strong instinct that painters have to invent techniques and tools so as to find a fresh perspective and thus to paint what they see, not what they know.

Colour constancy does not just affect painters; in our daily relationships we can also be prone to that phenomenon, by assuming that we already know what the other one is like. In order to make human interactions easier, we tend to put people into boxes, categories, schemata. And especially if we have known somebody for a long time, then the temptation is immense to attribute certain characteristics, “colours” and traits to the other. “I know what you are like” is what I say, at least to myself, and I stop looking and listening. In other words, there is no more mystery about the other, no more surprise, we have them pegged and figured out. But the truth is that we are wrong, and by making such assumptions we not only box the other in, we deprive ourselves of discovering new things about them. However long we have known somebody, there is always something new to discover. And if stop discovering, then our relationships become dull and predictable. So maybe it is time we bent over like Turner and took another look?