Hello Love

“Love itself is our most selfish emotion.”

That’s the gist of an article that somehow ended up on my Google News alerts this week. So in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, here’s my rebuttal.

This is the author’s argument: “When you love someone it is purely to satisfy your ego. . . Every expression towards those you love is also a mutual trade between two people for reciprocal advantage and to regard love as sacrificial or altruistic makes it, and the relationships that result, pointless and contemptible.”

When I got over my initial irritation at this statement, it struck me that HE’S RIGHT. Love, as understood and practiced in our culture, is all about self. Romance is a cycle of emotion in which happiness is contingent upon how good the other person makes us feel.

Interestingly, this view of love fits perfectly with Richard Dawkins’s claim in The Selfish Gene: “Now they [the genes] swarm in huge colonies, safe inside gigantic lumbering robots... They are in you and me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence.” In an atheist, postmodern culture, love is simply what we call the relationship between two sets of genes using each other to reproduce. All the flowers, chocolate, lingerie…just natural selection marching on.

So why, if you read this article to your date tonight, would you get a slap in the face? Because, at our core, we know that love transcends self. It’s not just Christian tradition that asserts itself here. A quick review of popular films reveals the same theme. Consider the sacrifices in Band of Brothers, We Were Soldiers, The Dark Knight, Schindler’s List, even Terminator. On the girl side, think Titanic and Twilight. All involve putting your own desires and even life aside for the good of another.

Why this dichotomy? Why do we recognize that love SHOULD be selfless, yet remain trapped in self-interest?

I think it’s because we’ve mistaken human love for what it’s supposed to point to. Yes, love can deliver some of the best life has to offer: companionship, passion, understanding, pleasure, and the rest of the Valentine’s Day adjectives. But inevitably, something breaks down. Love fails, leaves us empty or broken. We become cynical, convinced that romance is just two people using each other, ready to move on as soon as the deal isn’t mutually profitable.

The fact that love cannot completely satisfy—even though it brings great joy—I think points to a far deeper reality. We were created for relationships, not just with each other, but with God. Only he offers the perfect love and faithfulness we crave (even though we may mock it). His love is unconditional, unearned, constant. Why he desires us is a mystery, but he does. We were made for his delight and to delight in him. And love is what he did to win us back. “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers” (1 John 3:16).

Selfless love happens when we realize we are already loved perfectly. It’s not selfish to desire joy—the problem simply comes from looking in the wrong place. The best of human love offers a stunning picture of God. When we turn from the picture to the artist behind it, only then do we know Love.

As usual, C. S. Lewis says it best:

“We were made for God. Only by being in some respect like Him, only by being a manifestation of His beauty, lovingkindness, wisdom or goodness, has any earthly Beloved excited our love. It is not that we have loved them too much, but that we did not quite understand what we were loving. It is not that we shall be asked [in heaven] to turn from them, so dearly familiar, to a Stranger. When we see the face of God we shall know that we have always known it. He has been a party to, has made, sustained and moved moment by moment within, all our earthly experiences of innocent love. All that was true love in them was, even on earth, far more His than ours, and ours only because His.”

Back to the Books (Bodley style)

Well, I'm back. To Oxford that is, if not to lectures (those start February 1).

Mom and I enjoyed a whirlwind two and a half weeks travelling around England. She was here between December 22 and January 13 and we certainly covered a lot of territory. It was amusing to count the number of transportation methods we used (many of them in a single day): bus, underground, train, taxi, private vehicle, and of course walking. Lots of walking.

My favorite part of the trip has to be the three days we spent in the Peak District. We came to the Peaks directly from the bustle of London (Boxing Day sale at Harrods...NOT a good idea). After a very long day of train delays and waiting for buses in the dark, I can't describe how good it was to arrive at Hartington Hall, a 17th century manor house turned youth hostel. The glow of the fireplaces through the window welcomed us in from the cold, and the home-like beauty of the house itself could only be matched by the surrounding countryside.

The hostel often reminded me of the Prancing Pony from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. In stark contrast to our London hotel, where we spent the evenings cloistered in our room with the television, at Hartington we joined a merry group of wanderers clustered around fireplaces with books, games, and pints of ale in hand. Tolkien's words regarding Rivendell, The Last Homely House, perhaps best describe it: 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all.'

Our departure from Hartington was accompanied by many wishes to return. I still have much more exploring to do in the Peak District.

It seems unfair to skip over the rest of our English travels, but suffice it to say we both enjoyed the time immensely and were very sorry to say goodbye when it was time for her to fly back to Seattle.

Yesterday, though, I set off on a new adventure: to get my Bodleian Library card. Oxford University has kindly deigned to allow us Brookes students access to the reading rooms and 8 million volumes in the library's collection. Before obtaining the 'Bod Card,' that golden ticket of Oxford legitimacy (it also allows you access to certain colleges), I had to collect multiple signatures certifying that I was on a course of 'serious study' and solemnly read the Bodleian Oath before an admissions officer:

'I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, or to mark, deface, or injure in any way, any volume, document, or other object belonging to it or in its custody; nor to bring into the Library or kindle therein any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library; and I promise to obey all rules of the Library.'

The admissions officer then reminded us that no one is allowed to take books out of the library, and that the last person who asked to do so had his head cut off (Charles I was beheaded in the English Civil War, but not by librarians). With this warning in mind, us four Brookes students took our newly minted cards to Radcliffe Camera, probably the most recognized and certainly most photographed reading room of the library.
















Walking proudly past the 'No Visitors' sign, we had our bags searched and then headed up the massive spiral staircase. Once we reached the first level, we ascended a tightly-wound metal staircase (the kind every library should have) to the 'Upper Camera' gallery, where nothing separated us from the great dome but shelves and shelves of books.

I wish I could have taken a picture to show you the inside, but you'll just have to imagine. We settled down at desks and pulled out the reading material we brought along, dutifully taking notes and every once in awhile glancing up in delight. Picture a Little League baseball player suddenly set down in the middle of his favorite team's stadium. That's something like how I felt. Amazement I was actually there, and inspiration to tackle my studies with renewed enthusiasm.

It often seems most of my life is online. It's where I study, stay in touch with friends, and find out how to defrost chicken. Even though my course is digital publishing, I crave the the sense that my studies are grounded in something real, that they're part of a larger conversation and the rich history of books epitomized by the Bodleian.

That's why I'll be back many times this next semester. Laptop in hand.

English Christmas

I made it.

It's Christmas break and time for a long-overdue update. For the past few weeks (how they've flown!) I have been busy creating

1) an editorial proposal for a new book
2) a marketing plan for an online finance publication
3) the design and layout for a natural history book

not to mention taking exams, attending conferences and a few odd lectures here and there.

But those aren't the only reasons I haven't updated. Franky, it's hard to sit in front of this screen and distill life into a few coherent sentences. Especially when Facebook surfing or watching BBC 'Life' beckons from the next Firefox tab. But reading some of my friends' blogs just now has inspired me...

On Tuesday my mom is flying in from Seattle to spend Christmas and the first part of January with me in England. It will be my first Christmas away from home and without my dad. Almost all of my international friends are going home at some point. Why am I not?

I don't know how to say this without sounding unfeeling, ungrateful, and unpatriotic, but not for one single day have I been homesick. And you have to understand earlier this year I dreaded leaving Washington. I left a beautiful home and friends and family I love dearly. I still love them just as much, and after this course I'll be plenty happy to return to the USA.

But in the 9 months remaining, I don't want to do anything but soak in this place. The delight of England has not worn off and there is so much more to see. Mom and I are going on our own version of the 'grand tour,' including London, the Peak District, Windsor, Bath, Southampton, and of course my own Oxford. Last night, after handing in my last project of the semester, I could not help skipping a little as I crossed Magdalen Bridge into the city. A whole month of freedom stretches before me, and what better place to spend it?

If publishing is a language, this has been a total immersion experience. Just a few things I didn't know 12 weeks ago:

how to use InDesign and Photoshop
what XML is
the meaning of 4/0 CMYK sheet fed-printing on 120 gsm paper
how to write an editorial proposal
what the heck all those marketing people want anyway

We've come a long way. I am so proud of everyone on this course. Their creativity and professionalism humble and inspire me.

For a few weeks though, it's time to look at books like a normal person again. Not dissecting the potential market, author royalty, and design elements. Just as creations to be enjoyed, given, loved.

All in time for Christmas.

Home Is Where the Coffee Is

Flying into London with fireworks exploding over Big Ben. That was my homecoming to England after spending three days in Germany for the Frankfurt Book Fair.

The time in Frankfurt (my first trip to mainland Europe) was great. The book fair itself was very eye-opening as to the sheer size of the industry. It was also humbling being in a country where I spoke the foreign language! I've never really appreciated just how central language is to identity, both personal and national.

So returning to England was a homecoming on several levels. The nearly two months I've been here have flown by -- I can't believe it's November. Last weekend I went to the seaside with the postgrad group from my church. It was great hanging out with everyone in the beautiful scenery and goofing off. Let's just say there was an impromptu performance of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." And real American s'mores. (It was funny seeing the British people try them..."what's a graham cracker? Is it like a digestive?")

Coursework is starting to get intense, which makes breaks all the more important. One friend has set up a Wednesday pizza and movie routine--so far we've devoured Dominos and watched Shawn of the Dead (hilarious) and V for Vendetta (perplexing).

Today was my first time in a Starbucks since moving here. It was dark and miserable outside. Rain coated the streets. Then I stepped inside and the familiar red cups and warm lighting instantly welcomed me home. They were playing Viva la Vida.

And just another reason England is awesome: the baristas here ask if you want your drink for here or to go. My friends and I sat in big comfy chairs drinking Toffee Nut Lattes out of REAL MUGS!





















Does that happen in Seattle? I think not.

Goodbye Academia, Hello Retail

As I was catching the bus into town today, a sign caught my eye. It was an advert for my university touting "education for livelihood" rather than "education for life."

My English-major heart cringed at this, because I still believe education means more than the top line of your resume. But I admit, the vocational focus here has been a welcome change.

I'm studying publishing, which, let's face it guys, is all about SELLING BOOKS. Yes, hopefully they are quality products that will enhance someone's life. But at the end of the day, publishers care as much about the bottom line as any other company. And after 6+ years of studying literature, I find that oddly refreshing.

My courses are Editorial Management (finding/refining books that will sell), Design & Production (making them look good), and Marketing (convincing you to buy them). So not much of an ivory tower here. But of course Oxford has enough mystique of its own. Yesterday was beautiful, so I took my books to a nearby park and stretched out on the grass. This was my view.

So yes, I'm finding that livelihood and life combine quite nicely.

Enter England

I'm finally here! This week has been an insane rush of setting up my room, going to course orientations, and meeting people. A few random observations from my first days in England:

- There are NO pickup trucks. I didn't see one on the whole trip from Heathrow to Oxford.
- The UK really needs Fred Meyer. I've been running all over Oxford to find bedding and kitchen stuff.
- People in England and Ireland don't refrigerate their eggs. Seriously, I was at the grocery store today and the eggs were on a shelf with the cake mixes.

There's been so much going on I haven't had much of a chance to properly explore Oxford. We didn't have internet for the first several days so it's a bit hard to drag myself off the computer right now. But I'm going into the city tomorrow and will take lots of pictures so you can see my new home.

There are 80 students in my publishing program. Only about a third of them are from the UK, with the rest coming from the EU and elsewhere (I am one of five Americans). I was very excited to meet someone from South Korea last night who has also worked with InterVarsity Press and is interested in Christian publishing. We've been informed that "publishing is the booziest industry in the UK" and there are plenty of social events to attend! Our modules (aka classes) don't start until next week, but we've already met the tutors and had IT workshops. Everything looks uniformally challenging and exciting.

It's been easy meeting people since we're all in the same boat starting at a new university. My flatmates are splendid, and I already found a church thanks to a wonderful former publishing student who befriended us newbies. So life has been good.

My goals for the year are to become a competent and employable member of the publishing world. But more so -- to get out of my head and relish this amzing place and people.

Soli Deo gloria.

Frodo Lives

I swear I'm not reverting back to adolescence. Well maybe just a little bit. But indulge me this once and maybe we'll get somewhere...

Back six years or so ago I was a die-hard, completely obsessed Lord of the Rings fan. I'm not ashamed to admit it now, it was perhaps excessive. I didn't become anti-social or anything, but I could quote frighteningly large portions of the movies by heart and knew the difference between the Quenya and Sindarin languages.

Maybe you can relate to the feeling I had after the last movie came out. While I loved it, it wasn't too long until the story lost its power. I had lived in that world for too long and it didn't mean anything anymore. Real life took over. I grew up.

A couple nights ago, for some reason, I pulled out my massive boxed set of the LOTR dvds and started watching the "making of" features. Seeing the joy these people had in what they were creating, the intense camaraderie, was like rediscovering something I didn't even know I lost.

It was hope. The hope that good prevails, that friendship endures, and that the most pain heralds the most joy. That MY adventure is just beginning.

That I'm heading to Oxford is purely coincidental.

;)