Jeff Berryman : Daily Life

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 23:04:08 GMT

Thinking of Moving the Blog

Check out the look over at jeffberryman.wordpress.com. It's easier to manage, has a little more room, and it's free. So what do you think? The only problem is that I can't move my archives with me. That bums me out, but still, I think it's time for some new digs. I'll let you know when (and if) I make it permanent. ...maybe I'll blog more...

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 22:50:22 GMT

Springtime

[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]

We got sunbreaks today, and after I went to the store, I stopped by the zoo, the section outside the fence directly to the south just off of Phinney and 50th. I'd been wondering what I'd find to take photos of that would stand for the arrival of spring. I've never been so aware of its arrival. Trembling, buds everywhere crane their necks toward the sun, hoping to finally put winter behind them. Daffodils clustered in bunches caught my eye as I turned onto 50th and I immediately pulled into a space on the street. I grabbed my camera, hopped out of my car and jay-walked. [Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".] I was hoping for something besides daffodils, but then I thought, let's just pay attention to what's here. Ever noticed (I'm sure you have) how these poor flowers just can't hold their necks up? Beauty is just too heavy to manage. As buds, all floral in potential, they stretch up straight with all the hope of youth. But give them their full clothes and they can't help but lean over, stooping like sad folks at sunset. Today I got the feeling they were watching cars going by, thristy to drink in all they could before the weeks withered them. "Even when it[base ']s here, it[base ']s going by." That's a line from David Wilcox, and I think of it often. The Bible says our lives are like grass, like vapor. And watching the dawn of Spring both thrills and sobers me; I have seen the winter. I know these beauties are here only for a season, and yet, Solomon wasn't arrayed like one of these, either. Yes, I know Jesus talked about lilies, and I'll go find some of those for Easter, I suppose, but just now, I'll bet Solomon couldn't stand up to these either. ...I love yellow...

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 15:45:22 GMT

Artists Gathering

[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]

One bespectacled gentleman got a great deal on a drum set. A pair of married collage artists are waiting to hear back from a local artwalk show about their respective entries. A young blogger wonders whether anyone is bothering to read her stories, personal journeys culled from journals of years ago. An actor puts a brave face on his deep fatigue, weary from a week's worth of travel and performance. What might a gathered people need to say to God, a songwriter asks, sharing his constant search for a phrase or word that might spark people into dropping their inhibitions, catching fire enough to actually put their minds and hearts where they need to be in worship. Another actor celebrates a coming marriage and yet, the complextity of change fully employed, mourns the loss of old community, old safety. "Done is beautiful" describes another's process, the man chronically shouldering a titan's load of work, a man who inspires me with his grace and kindness and willingness to serve. These people draw girls in dresses, drum Sunday praises, write dramas and live them, too. We make leather and recordings, do graphc design and music, and blog, blog, blog. We are makers of things, sometimes for money, most times not, and what binds us is that we all agree that our making is a gift, hardly of our own volition, at least not in its orgins. The urge to shape form is a card we've been dealt, an ace in our DNA, and we can only respond by pocketing it, hoarding it, thereby lettting it die, or we can throw it out there, play it in hand after hand, hoping someday it combines with the rest our living, our other cards, to finally get a hand that does us and somebody else some good. We laughed, we cried, we told stories of plays and commerce and travel. We wondered how to tell the truth about our work and what to do when we would no doubt be judged and condemned. We wondered what the constants would be in our work, the palette we would continually return to, the stories we would tell over and over. We dipped chips into cowboy caviar and cheese, made faces and cringed as the host harassed folks with his camera, and we prayed. We prayed about our pride, our hunger to do good work, our desire to know what in the world God was wanting to be about in our lives, and we asked Him to please get on with it, this business of leading us, changing us. Finally we trickled out the door, one and two at a time, some three hours after we'd arrived, and then the house was empty, except for a wife, a husband, and a son, gathered in the kitchen, and still, the talk goes to music and dancing and auditions and the return of my daughter-actress this next week, and finally it's time for lights out and welcome sleep. What happened last night means the world to me. How do we grasp the kindness of this God who masks so much in seeming darkness, in impenetrable mystery? Creation, the making of a thing, the shaping of a form that somehow captures my heart in that elegant move of thought we call metaphor...it is nothing but the gift of God. In the end, what we said to each other in our gathering was simple. ...make something...

Fri, 09 Mar 2007 14:04:05 GMT

Coffee, Resurrection

[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]

It's Friday morning. I'm sitting at my coffee shop, Javasti's on 5th Ave. NE, enjoying the noisy banter of the morning crowd. Someone stole their newspapers this morning, and I've heard they're giving free scones to people who ate one yesterday, something about dumping salt into the batter with predictable results. Too bad I didn't get one yesterday--I'd been enjoying a freebie today. Mark the day. It was on this day 2007 that the birds in Maple Leaf decided they'd had enough of Winter quiet. As I sat in my office starting my bleary meditation, I heard them talking--the birds, that is--speaking their foreign language, testing throats too long silent. Spring's here, I guess, and as I walked up the dark street toward Javasti's, they sang me right along. Where were the crows? Still in bed, I guess. Lent is a challenge, but life for me is in such flux, it seems pretty normal. On Wednesday, I saw Tsotsi, a gorgeous gem of a movie about a South African hoodlum who wakes up via one of the great waker-uppers in the world--a baby. The final image of Tsotsi, his hands held high in a haunting image of yielding, has stuck with me. Then there was the episode of Heroes I missed Monday night, and watched Wednesday as well. Peter Petrelli getting his head carved up, screaming, and I think...you know, there we are. Yet, I just know Silar is the Evil guy, so he just can't win. The interesting thing is not whether the world will be saved--it's how. The people involved in the Arts Ministry at the Northwest are going to gather at my house tonight. What will we do? I'm not sure, really, but we're going to look each other in the eye and ask what we're up to, and we're going to care about it. Beauty is arriving in the world even as I write this, and our assumption is that God has drafted us, either explicitly or implicitly, to join the team responsible for various assignments in the necessary midwivery. Nikki and I talked yesterday of frames, empty and filled, and that perhaps we are to be nothing more than frames into which God can pour Himself and the resultant images, love, and life. Makes sense to me. Truth is, I'm moving through one of those periods where life is alternately transcendent and frightening. It's a bracing thing, to walk a street, to write a word, to take a picture, and think God is here on the tip of my breath, waiting for a single word of permission to release resurrection into the world through this moment, this very one. Abstract? Sure. But I believe the concrete finds its origin in an idea, an image, a way of seeing the world. The concrete reveals us to our selves, our world, and our God. You reading this is concrete, as is Your mulling of where resurrection is inside you, and if you will give that word of permission or not. What if Jesus had refused? ...let third days be our daily bread...

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 20:16:36 GMT

Decisions...On The Other Hand

Just a short follow up to yesterday's post regarding decisions: I referenced those decisions which come at moments of crisis, but I also mentioned decisions I'd made as a child that could not be traced to particular moments. This morning, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, and we were talking about the awareness of change. I was saying how I can feel something moving inside me, changing, but that whatever decisions that might entail were still in the future. But then I remembered those childhood decisions, and wondered out loud if a day might come where I simply woke up and knew the decisions were made some time ago, and that I'd missed the moment. Then we talked of seasons, and how understanding can change in an instant, as in epiphanies, and how it can also change over a lifetime, a process of slow, incremental evolution. Seasons are marked by specific days on the calendar, but Spring arrives in the air over time, each new day insinuating the slow exit of Winter, and one day you're walking the block around your house, and the color bursts into your awareness and you know Spring has been coming for some time. The calendar date is not useless, but it is a minor theme in understanding the coming of a season. I wasn't sure Winter would ever end. ...I think it might...

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 18:01:37 GMT

In Pursuit of Focus

Focus is always the problem. Years ago a songwriter friend of mine sat across a Sunday afternoon dinner table and lectured me sternly on the need for focus. I knew he was right, and I just couldn't do it. Well, it's time. And the winner is...writing. I told Taproot Theatre I would need to turn them down about a couple of shows in their upcoming season so I could focus on the writing. The first priorities will be finishing and publishing Hunting Grace, and then the completion of the first major draft of the as yet unnamed third book from the world of Cyrus Manning. So let's talk about blogging. This time around (yes, I know there have many of these pauses in blogging over the years) I'm simply wondering what I'm doing with this bit of cyberspace. Am I trying to be a cultural critic? Am I working on a particular philosophical approach to art and beauty? Am I providing some kind of ministry to anyone? What is, in short, my intention? And I'm not blogging because I can't answer those questions with any definition. Which sucks, I know, but there it is. So for the moment, let me just offer a brief report of recent doings. A couple of weeks ago, I got stranded in Abilene, Texas, where I had gone to teach my annual January Class at Abilene Christian University. The class is called The Arts and Culture: A Christian Aesthetic, and it mostly gives me a chance to wax on about my various curious notions concerning beauty, imagination, and pop culture. It was a great class this year: the students were engaged in the material, we screened three episodes of Friday Night Lights, the films Whalerider and The Station Agent, and in the end, we all left with a greater sense of responsibility about the use of our imaginations. Even though I got stuck in Abilene for two extra days due to the icy weather there (the airport was closed for two days), it gave me a chance to beat my Mom (one game only) in gin rummy. I'm back in the saddle here in Seattle now, working again on the rewrite of the second novel concerning Cyrus Manning. Early feedback on the book is that it's strong writing, but again, the story may be a bit slow, especially since the content is going to be on the heavy side. So I'm looking at the character actions again, looking at how to pick up the pace, keep the pages turning. At the same time, I'm going to be looking for an agent this year. Any prayers would be appreciated. On other fronts, Amy continues to do well at the University of Cincinnati, where she is studying acting. Daniel just finished a Thespian competition in which he received very high marks in various solo and duet competitions, both in musical theatre as well as straight acting. And my time is split between the book, the arts ministry at the Northwest Church, and trying to figure out just what to do with this blog. One thing I'm thinking of is moving the blog to Typepad, where the various pieces of technology there will be much easier than doing all this formatting with Radio. I'll leave this one up for a while, but after a couple of months, I'll close it up and you can find at a new address. I'll let you know when the move comes. ...for the moment, just reporting...

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 15:22:01 GMT

The Creche Collector

[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
Design by Kent Landrum

The Christmas Musical at the Northwest Church is not really a musical this year, though everyone keeps referring to it that way. I wrote about 10 different starts to songs just to see if I could get musical juices flowing, but in the end, we decided to do a straight play with some choral music surrounding it. The synopsis runs like this:

When Will Callus, a seventeen-year-old foster child brings his crèche collection to the Leffermann home, Cole Davis, a cynical newspaperman with a weakness for a good story, gets curious about Will's past. As the Leffermanns and their small church community prepare for another Living Nativity, Cole traces the mystery of this young boy's obsession with Christ's birth through a menagerie of offbeat characters, and in the process finds what both he and Will have been searching for all along.

I think it will be worth your time.

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 15:05:43 GMT

Thanksgiving

[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
More dessert than we needed...

Just a note about Thanksgiving: we were missing children for the first time. Amy and Ryan weren't there. These things are inevitable as time rolls on, but it was odd at the annual gathering of the Atkinson/Berryman families to be missing two of the Pacific Northwest clan. Amy was in Cincinnati having Thanksgiving with my sister Jody, while my nephew Ryan was in Florida at Embry-Riddle University. We celebrated the usual birthdays: Dick, Meghan, but we didn't do Ryan's because..well, obviously. We missed our friend Phyllis, too, but sometimes you just have to work. But Nikki was there, and this year, her Mom was in from Cleveland, so she graced our table as well. We ate a lot, didn't watch the Cowboys (we never do--I've gotten used to it), and laughed, traded stories, and everyone was gracious as they suffered through hundreds of Germany pictures. My niece Anna spent six weeks in Germany last year so it was fun to compare notes. What bounty. We had enough pie to serve an army, and a huge birthday cake besides. It is coming home with more and more force how wealthy we are, average American family that we are. Is there anything to be but thankful? And yet, the world suffers under poverty, war, spiritual emptiness, and all manner of evil. But grace surrounds us here, and we are called in some fashion to respond to both the Maker and Giver of that grace and His suffering world. I hope Advent brings some wisdom... Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above...

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 14:38:33 GMT

Snow
[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
A rose hanging on...
We were in the middle of the costume parade for the Christmas play at church, when someone threw the door open and said, "Look." The snow was coming down hard last Sunday afternoon as we went throught the first act, and when 4:00 o'clock came, most people headed for home before the streets got bad. Which was a shame, because 4:00 o'clock was when we'd scheduled the annual hanging of the greens to begin. A small crew got busy hanging the wreaths and the garland, arranging the various creches on the stage, and as 6:00 o'clock approached, more folks headed for home, including me. Snow is fairly rare here in Seattle, though the surrounding mountains get their share. It always gives me a sense of magic and wonder that then morphs to melancholy. I took my camera out to the backyard on a whim, and saw this little rose blithely standing there. It was a little worn, as you can see, but still...the yellow against the white, spring against the late fall, something hanging on against the cold... Late yesterday, I headed for the Cash and Carry in Shoreline, patches of blue sky over my house as I pulled out of the driveway. Five minutes later, headed down an east west street in Shoreline not more than two miles from my house, I was driving in a blizzard of ice. I could still look over my shoulder and see the blue sky behind me. This is one of the things I love about Seattle, rain sparkling in the sun as it falls, snow cascading right in sight of blue sky. We cancelled rehearsal, or as everyone at church says, "play practice." Sure enough, it was smart to do it as side roads apparently became ice rinks. Predictions are that it will stay frozen today and tonight, with new snow tomorrow. Maybe we'll have to cancel tonight as well. I hope not, though the play's not in bad shape even now.
He spreads the snow like wool
and scatters the frost like ashes.
...wash me, and I will be whiter than snow...

Tue, 21 Nov 2006 14:23:53 GMT

Germany
[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
The Cathedral (Berliner Dome) in Berlin
I took almost 700 pictures. It was the first trip to Europe for Anjie and I, and we took advantage of it, adventuring from Bremen to Berlin to Rothenburg to Munich to Salzburg. The first week was a real treat: the Willow Creek European Leadership Summit held in the northwestern town of Bremen. Willow has a long term commitment to Germany and has been hosting these summits for the past ten years. Over 5000 church leaders gathered to hear Bill Hybels, Gordon McDonald, Jack Groppel, Rick Warren, and Bono. Yes, Bono...last summer, Bill Hybels sat down with Bono and did a long interview with him which they broadcast at the Leadership Summit in Chicago in August, and they played the interview in one of the sessions in Bremen. The Leaving Ruin experience was awesome and humbling. As a result of the already demanding schedule for their technical staff, Willow had to bring 10 extra technicians to the conference just to do the play. They simulcast the play into their Austrian and Switzerland sites: now I can say I've done the play in Europe! The translators did a tremendous job in creating subtitles to the play, and the response from the audience was extremely gratifying. I will forever be thankful to the folks in Germany who wanted me to bring the play to the conference. What a privilege. Then Anjie and I headed to Berlin, where we saw most of the sites on the eastern side of the old wall, then on to one of the oldest medieval cities in Europe, Rothenburg, a city still surrounded by the wall that protected it for hundreds of years. Germans consider it a touristy kind of place, and it did remind me of Disneyland in it's color and form, but here's the difference: this town was a real town, with buildings dating from the 14th and 15th century. We stayed in a hotel that was once the mayor's house built over 600 years ago. Then on to Munich where we felt a little like Joseph and Mary--no room at the inn. We had stumbled into Munich during a major trade show, and there were no hotel rooms to be had, so we hopped online, and made arrangements to stay our final two nights in Salzburg, which has to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Old news, I know, but still captivating, and just right to end our journey. It's wonderful to be back home, back with Daniel and the routines of our lives, back in rehearsal for the Christmas play at Northwest, and back to trying to figure what this life God has given us is all about. But what a gift the past couple of weeks has been. Here are just a few pictures, to give you a flavor. ...next up, England...
[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]

Fri, 03 Nov 2006 12:25:02 GMT

Off to Germany
Tomorrow, Anjie and I head off to Bremen, Germany, where I will be performing Leaving Ruin at the European Leadership Summit hosted by the Willow Creek Association. It's been a hectic time trying to get ready to go, but we're nearly there. I don't suppose I'll be posting much from over there, but check in occasionally and see if I've managed to find a cozy little internet cafe. See you soon...

Thu, 02 Nov 2006 12:11:33 GMT

Daniel Singing
NOTE: This video has been taken down by the singer himself, so what can you do? Watch for more in the future.
Just for the fun of it, here's a YouTube posting of my son Daniel singing a song from the Broadway musical Children of Eden by Stephen Schwartz. As Daniel says in the comments section of the posting, his voice is a bit tired at the end, but still, it's worth a listen. YouTube doesn't support this particular blogging platform, so you have to click on the picture, which will take you to the YouTube post. Enjoy...

Wed, 25 Oct 2006 14:01:36 GMT

How Stars are Made: The Cambridge Handbook of Expertise and Expert Performance
I'm a bit pressed for time this morning, so I'm just going to point you to an article in the New York Times I came across a couple of weeks ago that made me want to sit my kids down and talk to them about the importance of early skill development in craft.
A Star is Made. By STEPHEN J. DUBNER and STEVEN D. LEVITT Published: May 7, 2006
Here's a teaser...
"...the Cambridge Handbook of Expertise and Expert Performance, a 900-page academic book that will be published next month, makes a rather startling assertion: the trait we commonly call talent is highly overrated. Or, put another way, expert performers -- whether in memory or surgery, ballet or computer programming -- are nearly always made, not born. And yes, practice does make perfect. These may be the sort of clichés that parents are fond of whispering to their children. But these particular clichés just happen to be true."
For those who want to master craft and know the freedom of expertise, this is an article worth reading. Turns out talent is overrated and hard work is the real key. But not just any hard work...read the article. Ten years to mastery...

Fri, 20 Oct 2006 13:27:28 GMT

Dad's Cousin, and the Passage of Faith
Is there anything better than a long meal with family and friends spiced with memories of people you all love? Last night, around six o'clock, one of my dad's first cousins rolled into our driveway to spend the night. I remember Crain from my childhood days and the few times we've seen each other since I grew up. He is an uncle to me, having grown up next to my father as something closer to a brother than a cousin. He and his wife and his now grown son sat down to a meal of salmon, chicken, asparagus, and apple pie, and stayed at our table until well after ten, telling stories of Dad and their family, stories laced with both joy and sadness. He told us about "Jo-jo" (Crain's name for my father, which was a variation I don't remember hearing before) riding "service-cycles" which were somthing like motorcycles, about Dad being in the drama club in high school, about his desire to be a preacher. He also talked about Dad's determination, that once his mind was made up, that was it, and that though his mother and her sister (Crain's mom) didn't think Dad was ready to be married, there was no stopping him. As we swapped stories about our lives, it hit me like it always does. There is always a point in these conversations when I get overwhelmed with the poignancy of life, its long scope of generations, its heartbreaking depth and beauty. They talked of the old days--this would be the 1930's and 40's--of farms and working the land, eating black-eyed peas and tomatoes for seeming months at a time, of visits to Oklahoma and riding white horses and Shetland ponies, of the thunder of the West Texas storms. And then there was the more recent story of their son-in-law's brother who in his late twenties was tragically killed by a lighting strike, literally out of the blue, even as their daughter was approaching the birth of twins. Death and new life colliding again, just as they did with Dad and Amy. And there was talk of church and the heartache of change. Musical instruments coming into the churches of Christ, new models of ministry, decades of emotional and financial investment discarded at the whim of the newest, avant garde preachers. And in the eyes of these fine people, I can see years gone by, an entire culture of Christ-followers who perhaps did not get it all right, didn't follow in all the ways they'd hoped, but they did their best, and now, with change breaking all they fought to keep sacred, how difficult it is to hold on to the old ways. They want to be graceful in the change, and it is just so hard. And their son sits with them, a beautiful young man who just now is making his life and living in music. And he sees the future, and is instinctively longing for the emergent church, even though, until we talked about it last night, he hadn't really been part of the conversation. Something tells me he will find his way to a group of people seeking to follow Jesus in a much different way than his father and mother, but that in the end, just as as been the case with this uncle of mine, people will experience the presence of God in their lives because of his discipleship, part of another generation of doing-the-best-they-can-with-what-they-know Christians. Missing Dad...

Sat, 14 Oct 2006 14:43:40 GMT

Early Morning Walks
My fingers are still cold. The air outside moves in particles big enough to see, the fog drifting by the street lamps. It's quiet out there, and the early morning anxiety I woke with eased as I strolled up and down the sidewalks of 80th, 81st, and 84th. Fighting it out with God over old wounds and wonderings, His quiet reassurance that all will be well, that love is real, that selflessness is a grace to be received, not a goal to be driven toward. Filling my mind with my family, my friends, thinking of their days, their struggles, their dreams. Thinking of my colleagues at church in the arts ministry, each of them wanting to make of their lives art that God enjoys, that He points toward and says, "This is my child." What is accomplishment? There is value to being hailed in the broad market, I suppose, but have there not been hundreds and thousands of voices through the ages that warn us not to listen much to the hue and cry of the street? Our lives are but a mist, a bit of smoke that flees from us even as it arrives. "Prosperity will have its season. Even when it's here, it's going by," says the song from David Wilcox. What is truth, we asked last night. What does it look like in art and poetry and worship? What is this authenticity the postmoderns want? The honesty of my feeling in the moment? Or the character that sets aside the feeling to do the right thing, the thing that is for the greater good? Express the self? Set the self aside for the good of the other? Either/or? Both? With God, there are no worries in the realm of expression and honesty. He sees it all, whether we bid Him to or not. Early morning walks...a good place to learn...

Wed, 11 Oct 2006 12:20:08 GMT

Fasting, Scones, and 200 Hundred Decisions a Day
Someday soon there will be a blog entry entitled "The Month I Ate Scones." In early August, I decided I had to curb my habit of running to the local coffee shop for my usual (amazing) scone. So I thought I would learn to make scones and in the process, save myself a bit of money. Well, I became a master scone maker, saved a few bucks, and gained about ten pounds in six weeks. So much for wisdom. My relationship to food is not one I think about much. Or at least, I never used to. As age creeps up on me though, my body is changing, and I think to myself, "Does it really have to be this way?" So I think, "be more healthy, exercise more, show great restraint, and be spiritual in your consumption of food" and all the while, I'm scarfing down scones and grape jelly. Days of fasting are especially ridiculous, battles growing to war-like proportion. I'm not exactly reduced to gnashing of teeth, but the gritting of said teeth is not unusual. So I take some comfort in this article. Seduced by Snacks? No, Not You. According to Prof. Brian Wansink's research, people make over 200 food decisions a day--and are outwitted at every turn. By KIM SEVERSON. [NYT > Health] Turns out, I'm being cued right and left by packaging, by visual cues, by others eating around me. Once again--thank the Lord--it's not my fault. In all seriousness, my attachment to food as comfort startles me. It seems such a simple thing. But the fact that our need for sustenance and energy gets laced with our desire for comfort and pleasure to the point where we can hardly tell the difference between "need" and "want" should be a warning. All the vices of life are a bit this way, having their origin in legitimate human need, yet somehow grow into something extreme for reasons as varied as people are unique. If we make 200 food decisions a day, think of the hundreds of other decisions we make as we regulate our behavior concerning other needs and wants. It's easy to see why we all bow before the power of habit. Let's see...breakfast...oatmeal or scones?

Wed, 27 Sep 2006 12:10:47 GMT

Culling Books
I am a packrat. "Stuff" appeals to me. Even when it comes to aesthetic properties that draw me as an artist, I am all about texture and layering. (Someday I am going to collage.) Memorabilia is hard to throw out, and with the recent exit of my daughter from the house (don't worry, she just went to college), the bittersweet scent of nostaligia virtually drips from the mantel. Nonetheless, I've been convicted that "stuff" needs to go. The place of hardest culling is with books. I have probably 4000-5000 volumes. And quite frankly, these are my friends. Reading has been my teacher, so much so that whatever I've learned of say, tennis, I learned from a book. It has always been my first instinct to go to a book when I needed to learn a thing. I still consider that a virture, as archaic as it sounds in these days of internet and theology by watching film. What came as baggage though--specifically American baggage, I'm afraid--was the desire to own all these books. I wanted them on my shelf, so that I could pull them down on a whim. And frankly, given my teaching over the years, I've needed a lot of them close at hand. But many of them just sit there, staring at me, collecting dust. I've moved them across country, boxed and unboxed some of them 4 or 5 times, never cracking the cover. Just for the fun of it, I pulled out a few books, around ten I think, and thought I'd run down to Half-Price Books here in Seattle, and see what I could get for them. I picked books that were nice volumes, but that I really wasn't all that interested in. Still, it was painful. For 10 books, they gave me $6. Those books probably cost me $150. Ouch. So I'm culling the ones I'd need on my desert Island, and saying goodbye to the rest. I figure they deserve to be read, so I should make them available to others. The tug of wanting to own and hoard is a strange beast, revealing more than I'd like it to. I have a friend who believes very much in the "lightness of being" and I can't for the life of me think of why he's not dead on. What books would you keep? My initial goal is to get down to 500, and then we'll see where we are. (I'm taking a pretty large boat to get to my desert island, I guess.) Next dilemma. Should I sell or give away? And remember, Amy just went to college. My world will be lighter...

Tue, 09 May 2006 17:39:11 GMT

Celebrations
There is much to celebrate these days. I turned 47 last Thursday, my sister and mother have both had birthdays in recent weeks, and yesterday, my wife and I looked at each other and could hardly believe 25 years have passed since I watched her walk down the aisle and say all manner of wonderful things to me as we stood before God and got married. Yesterday was our 25th wedding anniversary. After I'd gone to pick up the kids from Beauty and the Beast rehearsal, when the three of us walked in the door, there stood the bride, in her wedding dress, looking as if she had just stepped out of a time capsule. The dress still fit, the love was still in her eye, and the kids both caught the giddy mood, delighted to look back with us. Anjie said she'd been wanting to put it back on for a long time, and this just seemed like the day. Lots of water under the bridge since then, but our conversation over our anniversary dinner at one of Seattle's better restuarants was about the future, about who we wanted to be together, and how, in the end, it all comes down to somehow serving the wonder and glory of God. Life is huge, overwhelming, dense, ridiculously mysterious, and the journey of a relationship of 25 years is perhaps one of God's more efficient ways of keeping us on our knees. We assume that the next 25 years will bring more of the same, but our prayer is that we somehow take our faith and our lives to new heights of service and joy and worship. These days, a marriage of this kind of longevity is near miraculous to many people, and it was my great pleasure to tell almost everybody I could find yesterday that it was my 25th. The looks I got ranged from awe to pure disbelief. But in most of the responses there was a wistfulness, almost as if folks wished for a world where marriages like that could be true. But then, we'd go back to business as usual, and they'd wish me well, as if I were a foreigner traveling back to a country they knew they would never get to visit. Then there's Amy's graduation coming up, and Daniel's 16th birthday, and Anjie's birthday...the list of April-May craziness just goes on. But what great days these are, reminders that all of life is rich, even in it's pain and sin and destruction. The psalmist wonders where in creation he can go and be away from God. Thank God the answer to that is "nowhere." ...dancing to the music...

Mon, 17 Apr 2006 16:44:03 GMT

Just Reflecting
Easter is over, Lent has come and gone, and now we begin the road to Pentecost. The past six weeks have been rich. My absolute obsession with coffee has subsided for the moment into a more manageable enjoyment. (I'm having a latte a little later this morning.) God has been showing me some new thoughts that I'm terribly excited about--I'll come to those in a bit--and I can't help but say I am more personally hopeful than I've been in a long time. The resurrection of Jesus is a staggering event. It was wonderful yesterday to just loll about in the thought of it, as well as its implications. If, as Nathan Smith said so clearly and beautifully last week in one of the responses to my last post, that contemplation is the highest aim, then contemplation of the resurrection can be one of the true joys of life. The Northwest Church was packed yesterday morning. I was there at 7:00 a.m. to begin preparations for the dramatic piece being done in each of the day's three services. Thanks to Melody and Allen Cox for doing the two-hander for me, a brother-sister piece relating to the death of their father and the woman's embattled decision to come to faith. I have no idea what the impact of the piece was, but people listened and looked thoughtful, and several said they enjoyed it, which was not exactly the intent, that people "enjoy" it. (Though I suppose if they hadn't, it could be completely written off.) Then, in my Bible class, I stood up and read a story by Tolkein called "Leaf by Niggle." It's a story that Jeffrey Overstreet turned me on to a few years ago, and it has come to mean a great deal to me. There were about 12-15 people in the class and we had a wonderful time hearing about the painter whose speciality was leaves, but who could barely get any done because of a long series of interruptions. It's a delightful and deeply meaningful tale for anyone who makes art. If you're an artist, track it down and read it now. It will give you courage to continue. On another note, last night, as I sat and watched the last performance of the dramatic piece Allen and Melody were doing--called "Easter Beach", by the way--I couldn't help but wonder about the people in the pews. I had a conversation this past week with Dick Staub about the nature of the church. Staub said that he thinks that is one of the major questions of this generation: what is the church? Who is the church? What is the church for? What does it mean to be the church? I guess I'll blog a long time about that later, because it's very much on my mind. But I want to mention a few thoughts that came out of the past week. 1. Read Joana Smith's delightful story about "Mercy" in the comments to my post of 4/7/06. Delightful and haunting at the same time, about the replacement of one window with another as a small girl faces change. Joana's been posting comments lately, and if you haven't read this smart, poetic woman's thoughts on some of the various posts of the last few weeks, go back and look. She's one of my favorite people in the world...I'll do a longer post on her work later, but be sure to check out Joana and her music here. 2. The pursuit of happiness as it's own end, in that, properly understood, it fulfills God's purpose for humanity. Now I'm not saying that very well, but if you haven't read Nathan Smith's (Joana's husband) response to my post of 4/7/06, you need to go read it. Nathan is a very, very bright man I met a couple of years ago at a wedding...his. I had the great honor of marrying Joana--a former student of mine, Joana Blair was her maiden name--to this incredibly intelligent (and handsome) man who I came to appreciate and admire very quickly. Nathan and Joana are now in Paris where Nathan is studying philosophy and Joana is writing poetry and music. (Sounds positively 19th century, in all the best ways.) Anyway, I count them as dear friends, and I was thrilled to read Nathan exquisite rendering of "Happiness, Human Action, and God's Will." I'm still mulling it, but wanted to point to it very directly. 3. Sacrifice as part of the basic DNA of being human. I'm fond of saying that making art is simply part of what it means to be human. Dick Staub said essentially the same thing the other day regarding sacrifice. That sacrifice is crucial to living a fully human life because it is part of God's design for us, part of His image in us, part of what it means to have His love in us. To avoid sacrifice is to avoid being fully human, and indeed, to avoid the God-nature inside us. As with all things, Jesus revealed this by his life. (This was a Good Friday conversation.) Resurrection, mercy, happiness, and sacrifice as part of the journey to being fully human... ...a rich, rich week...

Wed, 15 Mar 2006 13:37:11 GMT

David Wilcox
[Macro error: Can't find a sub-table named "radioResponder".]
My son leaned over and whispered, "Dad...that's David Wilcox." Last night, Daniel and I went to The Triple Door in downtown Seattle where we enjoyed some great food and two great sets from one of our favorite singer-songwriters, David Wilcox. It didn't even matter that he only played one song from his Big Horizon CD, the one that has all our favorite songs on it. A superb guitarist who spends the evening moving his guitar from one tuning to another, sometimes playing with more than one capo to get the distinctive sounds his fans know so well, Wilcox is what I consider to be the equivalent of an old time troubador. A master storyteller, Wilcox's use of language is stunning. I marveled at the sheer volume of wisdom running through his lyrics. After the show, I heard one woman talking to Wilcox, telling him that being at his concerts was like going through therapy. For me, it's like a long contemplation, a long prayer. Wilcox isn't afraid to tell us about his faith, his sexuality, his frustrations, and his seemingly endless hope based in the broken heart. His new CD comes out in a few weeks, he said. From what we heard, it sounds worth checking out. I was really happy...

Mon, 13 Mar 2006 14:42:36 GMT

BRAVO
Just want to give a hats off to the Drama Ministry at the Blue Ridge Community Church in Forest, VA, just outside of Lynchburg, VA. I spent the weekend there, teaching acting and directing and doing a production of Leaving Ruin. The reception I was received was warm and encouraging, and I was amazed at the level of commitment and community within this small team led by Debby Kountz. Debby and I met at the Willow Creek Arts Conference last summer, and it was a real treat to get to be a part of the life of her ministry for a few days. BRAVO is an acronym for "Blue Ridge Actors with a Vision for Outreach." And this is a church that is all about outreach, having seen explosive growth over the past 3-5 years. And the time spent with David (Debby's husband, the executive pastor at Blue Ridge) and Debby in their home, talking about the nature of the church and the need for joyful living in the Lord was priceless. As usual, I walked away with far more than I gave. What a privilege...

Mon, 20 Feb 2006 23:54:20 GMT

Daily Life Notes
Winter break begins for the kids today, and we are all anxiously awaiting news about Amy's college auditions. I begin rehearsals tomorrow for Taproot Theatre's upcoming production of Voice of the Prairie, and Anjie's work schedule continues to be fairly intense. I watched the NBA All-star game last night, which is the first of those games I've seen in many years. What amazing athletes these men are...in Lebron James we are watching the emergence of one the long-term greats in the game. I remember as a child following the exploits of the UCLA Bruins in their long string of NCAA championship titles, and being really impressed with a kid named Lew Alcindor. Hard to believe all the years have passed. After I returned from my trip to Rochester College and to the University of Cincinnati (a scholarship competition trip I took with Amy), I promptly came down with a pretty mean bout of upper respiratory something. I've been hacking and coughing for over a week now, but thankfully, the voice is returning and I'm feeling much better in general. Even slept through the night last night. Two films I've seen recently that impacted me: The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Scott Derrickson's recent horror/courtroom flick, and Sometimes in April, a 2005 French release about the Rwandan genocide of 1994. The Exorcism of Emily Rose didn't scare me particularly, but I was fascinated by the compelling performance by Jennifer Carpenter as Emily, as well as the earnestness of the narrative. These people were taking this notion of demon possession seriously, and though the reviewers at www.rottentomates.com gave the film a "rotten" rating, I found the film compelling, one that I kept turning over in my mind during the days the followed. Emily's demise was forceful and explicit, maliciously evil, pretty far removed from the everyday sorts of temptations that we pedestrian Christians put up with. But still, it made me dwell on the fact that evil really does destroy, that the most benign of temptations can, in the end, create what are--in fact--vicious consequences. And then there's the evil of man to man, as we used to say in English class, seen so clearly in Sometimes in April. The story of a man's journey through that hellish year in Rwanda, when in the span of 77 days over 800,000 people were slaughtered in a concerted effort by the Hutu of that country to wipe out the rival Tutsi. His loss is stunning, as is the brutality and evil of the oppressors. The will to power is on full display in this film, and how humans ever come to the point where they can, with full knowledge, mow down innocent children (not as collateral damage in a declared war) but with the announced intent to exterminate a particular group of people, calling them "cockroaches", is beyond me. I hope it always is...

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 15:31:15 GMT

College Auditions
My daughter Amy takes off today, traveling to Michigan and Ilinois with her dream of a life in the musical theatre firmly packed in her heart. In the next week, she'll be auditioning for some of the best musical theatre programs in the country, and she's worked very hard to be ready. Needless to say, we are all praying that she does well, but mostly we want God to put her where she can flourish and build her life as a woman of faith. She's very gifted, and we just want the world to meet her. So if you'd say a prayer for Amy, for her confidence and courage and peace, we'd appreciate it. Anjie's going with her, and it will no doubt be an adventure neither of them will ever forget. Who knows, maybe someday it will serve Amy as a strong metaphor...

Mon, 16 Jan 2006 15:11:06 GMT

I'm Back
Just got back from Abilene Christian University where, for the seventh year, I taught a short course (for a full semester's credit) entitled The Arts and Culture: A Christian Aesthetic. This year's class were engaged throughout, and we had a great experience, though as usual, I picked up a cold near the end of the course. That aside, it was a good week. When I first began to teach this class around 1999 or 2000, I read a lot of media criticism that was depairing of any real way to make the onslaught of mass media constructive. Neil Postman and others were calling into question the notion that mass electronic media could be used to better the mind, to sharpen the ability to focus or hold attention, and that in the end, mass media entertainment was reshaping our ways of processing information that was detrimental. Reading was the way to go, they all said, and short of that, get ready for the fall of the empire. Reading vs. consumption of mass electronic media. It seems hard to argue that they are not two vastly different ways of ordering information and images, and that the brain, as it encounters these two domains, must adjust it's processes accordingly. In other words, watching TV is different than reading a book. Nothing new here. There's a whole new thing going on, though, among Christians trying to be "discerning" in their consumption of media. What's being said now is that the more detrimental effects of constant TV, advertising, and film intake can be overcome through "active engagement" and "reflection." And I have seen that this is true as I've worked with students over the past several years. There is no question that when a student is asked to reflect very specifically on what they are taking in, then their thought processes change, and they become more able to effectively make us of and respond to the images in front of them. My new thought this past week was this: in the long history of human media and thought, electronic media are pretty new. Truth is, we don't know what the long term effect is going to be. There is no question that the proliferation of mass media images is affecting how we view the world. There are postiives and there are negatives. I'm glad that we get to see up close the various world calamaties that need our attention. To see the glory of the earth around the world is a deep blessing. But it is also true that there are many notions of moral reality competing for our devotion and alliegance in the mass media, and whether that will be a good or bad thing in the long term is hard to say. But I did come out of the class with a new hope concerning the possibilities of these new forms. If we can be thoughtful and engage these films, the television series and programs, and yes, these books, then perhaps the changes we want to see in our society, and in us, can be made. Let's try...

Thu, 10 Nov 2005 06:26:49 GMT

Daily Life Notes
Yes, it's been almost a month now since I've written anything, but no apologies. I'm just working on multiple projects and sometimes the blogging takes a back seat. There's a lot happening in the Berryman household these days, performances and travels galore. I was in Black Mountain, North Carolina last month to do a two performance run of Leaving Ruin, hosted by Jim Shores and Carol Anderson, a wonderful couple with a ministry called Acts of Renewal. Acts of Renewal plays all over the country presenting plays on various social and ministry issues, and though I've never seen the work, everything I hear is that it is top drawer stuff. Thanks to Carol and Jim for making my time in Black Mountain delightful. Amy and Daniel both have shows in preparation for Roosevelt High School's 50th anniversary of an event called Dramafest. Amy is directing this year, a play called Aria de Capo, and Daniel's is singing the title role in a one act cutting of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. Amy took a few days off from directing and school, though, to head back (accompanied by her mother) to Cincinnati, Ohio, where she checked out a couple of schools, the most notable of which is the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. She was impressed by what she saw...we just keep praying God will lead her to where she needs to be. She also had a great reunion with her friends from Interlochen, the summer arts camp where Amy spent the bulk of summer 2005. The other major production going on just now is the annual Christmas offering at church. I'm in charge this year (after a couple of years away from it), and this year we're doing a series of short one-act pieces that will end up making for a very full evening of drama and music. We're calling in Christmas...Honestly. The theme that will tie the evening together (loosely) is the idea that Christmas is sold to us a sort of perfect, romantic ideal of a season, and the truth is, it rarely lives up the billing. We're going to take a look at what Christmas is really like for many of us, and what the birth of the Christ has to say to us in the midst of the various stresses the holiday invariably brings. The dates for Christmas...Honestly are December 8, 9, and 10. Tickets are free. I'd like a perfect Christmas...