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March 25, 2004
destruction
we were walking in downtown seattle and saw this building being demolished. it was captivating. seeing the cranes pulling down seemingly random pieces of the building and watching it crash to the ground. it got me thinking about how rare it is that we get to destroy. we continually try to refresh, renew, restore, but not destroy. one of children’s favorite things to do is to build a tall tower with blocks and then send it crashing to to the ground. where does this come from? does it come from not knowing the expected sequence of what will happen when one piece is removed, like jenga? is it freeing by allowing us to completely start over, which we rarely get to do? we can’t start over and instead continually build on composted ground. we have baggage, our relationships have baggage, and destruction affords us an opportunity to start fresh. i guess that’s what heaven will be like... freedom from baggage and starting anew.
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photo credit goes to renae on this one. thanks 'nae!
Posted by Charity at March 25, 2004 09:53 AM
Nah... we just like watching big machines wreck stuff and make lots of noise. And if there are explosions, all the better. ;)
Posted by Jason at March 25, 2004 10:02 AM
that's true too! in the sense that we are completely encapsulated by the sight and sound of it all. makes all the other noise and images in my head take a break for a while.
Posted by charity at March 25, 2004 10:09 AM
Dang it, Charity. I'm trying to work here, and I'd really rather just think about this...An initial thought is that destruction, if you're the one in control of said destruction, the one making it happen, feels REALLY good (e.g., I have great memories of knocking down walls with a sledgehammer when my grandpa was redoing their house; oh, oh, or the scene in Life as a House where Sam starts to help knock down the shack; etc.). It's just so satisfying. And creating something new (the opposite of destruction? somehow I don't think so...) can be so scary. I'm going to have to spend some time pondering this because I think it will connect with your earlier post/our discussions about art as emergent.
Posted by Renae at March 25, 2004 10:20 AM
i'm convinced that one of the best things in marriage is 1) the destruction of bad elements (we do this by fighting) and 2)the positive rebuilding that comes after it. we're working on destroying the negatives without arguments -- hopefully we'll figure that out over time. but really, i think most relationships need a bit of "destruction" in order to rebuild in a God-honoring manner.
Posted by rt at March 25, 2004 05:00 PM
rt, i am not sure if what your talking about is destruction or what i like to call 'composting'. where all of the trash per se is worked through to create fertilizer. if that makes sense. destruction on the other hand is complete anhilation (sp?). where there isn't history, baggage, preconceived notions, etc. does that make sense?
Posted by charity at March 25, 2004 05:30 PM
huh. i don't really understand what you mean by "destruction" then. unless, by saying "destruction affords us an opportunity to start fresh", you mean that it'll only happen in heaven -- that i do agree with. all else must be composting with that definition. (this is one conversation where i need your hand gestures to fully comprehend your meaning!) : )
Posted by rt at March 25, 2004 06:40 PM
after some further conversation and my thoughts on the topic becoming clearer. here are some other thoughts.... there CAN be complete physical destruction such as buildings and material things, which is why watching the building being destroyed is so captivating. but my hypothesis is that we CAN'T completely destroy the relational and that is what i call composting.
Posted by charity at March 25, 2004 06:51 PM
All this talk of composting brings a Tolkien quote to mind.
"One writes such a story not out of the leaves of trees still to be observed, nor by means of botany and soil-science; but it grow like a seed in the dark out of the leaf-mould of the mind: out of all that has been seen or thought or read, that has long ago been forgotten, descending into the deeps. No doubt there is much selection as with a gardener: what one throws on one's personal compost-heap; and my mould is evidently made largely of linguistic matter."
From Tolkien's Collected Letters pg. 126
Posted by Andy at March 25, 2004 11:56 PM
nice!
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