Batfort

Style reveals substance

Author: childlike empress (page 2 of 67)

Tree Christians vs Flame Christians

For this reason, I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name, that He would grant you, according to the the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man; so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ, which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fulness of God.

—Ephesians 3:14-19 (emphasis mine)

To preface, this is not doctrine. This isn’t anywhere close to it. I’m just trying to illustrate and explore what I observe to exist. I really enjoy the language of prophets like Jeremiah and authors like Robin McKinley, who use little nature vignettes to bring life and playfulness to their words.

I’ve recently come into a heuristic that there are two types of Christians. There may be more types—I haven’t embarked on an exhaustive study. But in terms of those I meet and interact with, this has been a helpful heuristic.

These two types are “Tree Christians” and “Flame Christians.”

Both are acting in good faith. Both are seeking God, as best I can tell. But the two come from different angles, which sometimes causes issues with communication and priorities. Like all human beings, we all have biases and blind spots.

Tree Christians are very concerned with Truth. They vigilantly keep watch over scripture, agonizing about translation and interpretation. They grow roots down deep and unfurl leaves, but don’t move. Woodland creatures can find rest under their branches, but they have to come to the tree—the tree doesn’t come to them.

A mascot verse might be this first bit of Psalm 1:

How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the path of sinners,
Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
And on His law he meditates day and night.
And he will become like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season,
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.

Now, the opposite of this type is the Flame Christians. Full of zeal—rushing like wind—not always stopping to think. Love and Spirit shines through in their rush to do all the things that have been left undone in this world. Their failings are not in the doing, but in the understanding, the rootedness in Truth.

These Christians like to quote Acts 2:

And suddenly there came from heaven a noise like a violent rushing wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. And there appeared to them tongues as of fire distributing themselves, and they rested on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit was giving them utterance.

The coolest part about this visual analogy is what happens when you put them both together—the burning bush. Deep roots, burning mightily, and not consumed. The tree will burn with faith and catch on fire; the flame will shoot down into the ground and grow roots.

We are called to speak the Truth—the Good News—in love. Action, and contemplation. Faith, and works. The burning bush that is not consumed.

I love that there are both types of Christians. Put them in close proximity to each other, and the flames burn away the chaff from the trees, which provides extra fuel for the flames. The best kind of feedback loop. Just trees, or just fire, and stagnation would occur—the cycle would break.

The trick is not to judge each other harshly, but to bear each other up in love.

If you are a Flame Christian, listen to truth. If you are a Tree Christian (and if you’re reading blogs on the internet, you probably are), contemplate why you haven’t caught on fire yet.

The Reader: Hiding from AI, Writing Mistakes, and Power

Red Velvet promo photos are some of my favorites. They have such a sense of humor about their aesthetic.

Tonight, I answer to the descriptors “Sincere, open, playful.”

What about you?


 

» Defecting from Bethel: Part 1 

» Homeschooled children are far more socially engaged than you might think

» Something something UFOs something something

» Vintage Tradition Tallow Balm

» The 3 to 5 Book Rule

» Elizabeth Holmes may go to trial this summer.

» This interview with Bret Easton Ellis looks interesting, but it’s behind a paywall.

» The Petty Writing Mistake that Drives Me Nuts

“I think the thing that really bugs me is when I’m talking with someone in an informal context who insists on using a formal style all the time. There are so many nuances of tone of voice that can be conveyed with a shift in capitalization or a well-chosen smiley — I wrote a whole book about them! — and to insist on texting as if you’re writing a formal essay tells me that you care more about an arbitrary notion of ‘correctness’ than the actual feelings of the person on the other end of the chat bubble. Let your hair down! Live a little!”

» How to hide from the AI surveillance state

» How new movements, not old media, are driving politics

Trump’s support wasn’t taking its cues from analysts, or taking much interest in the traditional vetting from the mainstream media; they were listening to the man himself, unfiltered on social media and cable news.

» Borrowed power vs. Owned power

Why I haven’t reviewed NCT 127 WAKEY WAKEY

Short answer:

Japan.

Long answer:

Because I wasn’t watching YouTube (or other short-form streaming video) during most of the month of March, I had no way to access the ‘Wakey Wakey’ video when it was first released. And because for whatever reason SM Entertainment/Avex records (SM’s proxy in Japan) didn’t release the whole album until later…I didn’t have access it on Spotify until like, last week.

Okay, great.

“But now that it’s on Spotify,” you ask, “why don’t you review it? Even without the video! You did that with Chen’s solo album a while back.”

Real answer:

Once I finally found it, I listened to ‘Wakey Wakey’ (or W2, as I’ll call it in the rest of this post). Then I listened to it again. And just now, I gave it a third chance.

I think you know where I’m going with this.

W2 is not my cup of tea. Which is a shame, because with a name like ‘Wakey Wakey’ it would be really fun if it were the kind of song that you could blast in the mornings with a cup of coffee.

This song reminds me of ‘Regular’ crossed with Hitchhiker x Taeyong’s ‘Around’ with a little sprinkling of ‘Chain’ on top. Unlike ‘Around,’ though, which has a delightful sense of humor and makes me laugh every single time, W2 is just…relentless.

The same tight melodic range (read: NO melodic range) of ‘Regular’ combined with the high synth sample? No thank you.

One of the hard parts of being a fan of a group while they’re actively building a sound and a fanbase is that they’re going to keep exploring. What you initially liked about them may not be where they ultimately end up.

There’s a beauty in staying open, and giving a young group the space to grow and explore. That’s what I tell myself, at least.

For every ‘Regular,’ there’s a ‘Simon Says.’

Exploring Aesthetics I

One of the questions that I’ve always wanted to delve into is the relationship between the aesthetic presentation and truth value of a message.

It may be as simple of a question as “does the truth have a visual style?”

But if so, what is that style? Does it change with the times?

Does truth, then, change with the times?

Then it is not truth.

My mind is intrigued by this question.

Maybe it’s an important question to ask, maybe it’s not.

Maybe by forcing myself to think it through I’ll discover more important things about visual communication or the structure of arguments.

I honestly don’t know.

Sometimes I try to classify visual elements into “binary coins,” to create a scale by which you could sort something visually or conceptually.

  • tidy/untidy
  • shallow/deep
  • copy/original
  • pretty/ugly

We often trust beautiful people, but the same people can be puppets for other people’s words and agendas.

Many people believe that “cleanliness is next to godliness,” yet the world can be a very complex and untidy place. God made pine trees that shed their pollen and coat everything with a thin coating of yellow. Is that tidy?

Must beauty come at the expense of depth?

Are there requisite visual elements to truth? Or is it all just visual/intellectual posturing?

(“I’m too good to pay attention to how I look.”)

I’ve long been curious about this.

So it’s time to explore deeper, to ask questions and push for answers.

Slowly, but surely, I want to pull at this “problem.”

The Reader: HE IS RISEN edition

Easter, the day we Christians set apart to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is one of my favorite days of the year. Today, it was made all the more sweet since I timed a 5-day fast to end with the Easter feast. Sorrowful, with the news from Sri Lanka. Joyful, with the absolutely delicious food that I prepared with my mom and dad. Hopeful, because I have plans to transmute the healing that God has wrought in me into works on earth. God is sovereign over both the destruction of Notre Dame, and the rebirth of the human spirit on the internet.

 


 

» My family has been making prime rib on holidays for years now (maybe over a decade), and this is by far the best recipe we’ve tried. Although we modified it by searing on a BBQ.

» The vegan blogging world is imploding, probably because veganism is not sustainable.

» Melania Trump responds to Vogue snub. (Not surprising.)

» Mike Rowe on college admissions scandals

And for my money, as I step back to look at it, I was like, well, yeah, that is kind of disgusting, but where is the outrage for the cost of college in general? You don’t have to be rich or famous to believe that your kid is doomed to fail if they don’t get a four-year degree. There are millions of parents in the country right now, millions, who genuinely feel that if they don’t do everything they can to get their kid into a good school they will fail the kid.

» You elected them to write new laws. They’re letting corporations do it instead. (Activate the hall of mirrors effect)

» An interesting article, from which 2 truths jump out:

1. Why it’s important to be faithful in the small things before you hit it big

Remember when I said that the New York Times named Ubuntu the second-best restaurant in the country? Well this is when it happened. I was stunned, to say the least. Overnight we became busier than we could handle. Then, thanks to our success, the health department showed up. We had limited refrigeration and our farm was not certified by the state agriculture department. Technically, we were not allowed to serve vegetables that we had grown in our own garden. The health department gave us an “F.” We had to spend close to $150,000 just to get everything up to code. But we did it, and got perfect scores every time from then on.

2. The disconnect between the media bubble and reality is absolutely toxic.

Eventually, we earned a Michelin star. At first it was vindication for me—the external praise and accolades that I figured would finally solve all of my problems, both emotional and financial. The press would make us busy and I would be fulfilled. But the season ended, and once again we slowed to a crawl. Ubuntu was one of the most talked about restaurants in the country. We should have been booked up months in advance. We would be busy on weekends, and then dead on a Wednesday. In the winter we were doing only twenty to thirty covers a night. I remember that on one Oscar Sunday we had zero reservations. Literally zero. So we just closed up and went home.

Dear Batfort

Dear Batfort,

I promised myself I’d do some visioning for your future this week, and I haven’t. (I’ve been fasting and I did not anticipate how much mental space that would take up.)

But in lieu of a giant brainstorming session with post-its or pages and pages of free-form lists and journaling, I decided to write you a letter. Like you are a real thing, which you kind of are.

Batfort, you are almost 2 years old.

What started as a project to prove to myself that I could set a goal and stick with it (1 post per day for 365 days, no exceptions) has grown into something more. What that “more” is, I’m not sure of.

But I love it. I love the growth that you’ve been having. I love that I’ve started to get emails and comments from lovely people who have been struck by your writing.

Even though you are still rough and growing and sometimes foolish, you seem to have a purpose. And I want to honor that purpose.

There are so many things I want to do under the Batfort umbrella. Some of them align more clearly with that purpose than others, but all things can work together for good.

I keep thinking about a podcast—a living, breathing way to talk about the de-gnostification journey, and to critically examine the roots of the stories that make up our lives.

The past year has presented me with opportunities to practice printmaking, which I love, and this next year I have a goal of learning bookbinding. “Batfort Studios” might become a real thing, to print weird-but-lovely things to remind you to keep seeking Truth.

And I see so many coincidences (a sign that I’m on the right track) around zines and publications. At my heart of hearts, I want to publish books—a hard profession, but a noble one. Especially when the aim of publishing books is to draw people closer to the truth.

Aesthetically, I can’t shake the “dark 80s-inflected neo-Victorian” vibe that I’ve always seen around your name. I’d like to lean into that, provide an aesthetic to counter the flat, bold, pink, marbled aesthetics that are everywhere around us. Monstera is pretty, but we need an alternative.

I’ve been distracted from you this month, as I got pulled in the direction of kick-starting my writings about healing and health. I’m sorry. I’ve been so overwhelmed with joy and the sheer fact of my healing that it’s hard to to share it with everyone. And I know that this may not be the place to go deep into that.

I’d like to keep you somewhat away from the bold, blunt edges that are required for presenting a product or an argument to the masses.

Batfort, you are a place for exploration. For nuance. For the cobwebby bits.

You are my firstborn project, in many ways. I cannot neglect you, and I feel that I have a duty, of sorts, to pass the torch that you bear to others who wish to take up the Light.

It is a rough plan, for now, but I hope it is sufficient.

Your servant,
Anne

Good Friday, full of Joy

“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Corinthians 15:55-57 ESV

Food Dreams

Not literally.

I’m not dreaming about floating food in the sky or dishes scurrying across my table.

But I am dreaming about my future, in food.

Yellowfin Tuna with citrus, pickled broccoli, and marigold | Tusk PDX

For a long time I haven’t let myself think about food much, let alone dream about it in my future. I used to use food—and food writing—as a coping mechanism when I was a teenager. Cooking interesting recipes, reading about all the food I couldn’t eat. I devoured Jeffrey Steingarten’s essays like they were candy.

When I completely overhauled my diet, a lot of that had to change. I used to mark up Bon Appetit magazines with post-it notes, highlighting recipes that could work with my dietary restrictions. I would try out new techniques for cooking my simple vegetables and meat, or experiment with fermented foods.

When I became a carnivore, all that changed. Mostly, I eat burgers. (They’re easy to cook and easy to pack to work.) I’ve done some learning on cooking a good steak, and things like that, but I haven’t felt the need to add non-animal-based foods back into my diet. For the most part my culinary interests were relegated to the occasional YouTube food/travel video.

Sure, maybe I fantasized about eating pain au chocolat in Barcelona—but let’s be real. That’s 1. Barcelona and 2. Ninja-levels of healing.

But that’s the thing. With the recent healing that has taken place in my body, I’m beginning to think that maybe I can introduce some vegetables in the future.

Maybe I can eat the paleo-friendly foods that I find on my Instagram feed.

Deviled Eggs with Fried Chicken Skin and I believe that’s chipotle honey | Turkey and the Wolf

Not now obviously—I’m giving myself another year for things to settle down—but maybe next summer when I’m in PDX, I can go to Tusk and actually try something.

Maybe I can put some buttery sauteed mushrooms on my steaks.

It’s nice to dream again. Barcelona is calling.

 

On Quitting YouTube for Lent

It’s true, I quit watching YouTube 30-something days ago.

It was time. My attention got sucked into YouTube, away from the things I wanted to be doing, like writing blog posts and doing printmaking workshops and getting my house in order.

There were a few ground rules. First, it wasn’t just YouTube. It was also Vimeo, or Bitchute, or any other streaming video service (like Unauthorized.tv, which was launched at the most inopportune time). Second, regular TV and movies were allowed, because I don’t get sucked into them. They are discrete packets. Third, I could access YouTube at work for work purposes only—watching a replay of a webinar, but not listening to Pewdiepie in the background. There was also one (1) time when YouTube was accessed when I was in a group setting.

The transition was not nearly as difficult as I thought, although I did struggle for a bit at the beginning filling my evenings with sound—to drown out the quiet—as I had become used to the endless chatter of the tellybox. Not the way I want to live my life.

I appreciate the silence now. It gives me space away from the rest of the world. I only see what I choose to see.

I also discovered some pretty great internet radio stations.

You don’t notice, often, when something creeps its way into your life and grows roots. YouTube was certainly like that for me. Here are some ways that removing it revealed pain points:

  • By far my biggest practical frustration is not being able to use YouTube for “how to” videos. There have been a few times when I’ve encountered a problem and known I could find the answer on the ‘Tube. But, no. I have to do it myself, the old fashioned way, by reading the instructions. Similarly with product reviews.
  • It’s awkward telling someone in your life that you can’t watch the video they just excitedly sent you, because you quit YouTube for Lent. I have a whole list of things built up to watch now, which almost defeats the purpose of quitting in the first place.
  • Western fans of K-pop are very dependent on YouTube. I still haven’t reviewed NCT 127’s “Wakey Wakey” because it just got uploaded to Spotify, instead of a month ago when the music video was posted. The lack of video content has also highlighted how much of k-pop is a visual experience.

Mostly, these are first-world problems. I will probably continue to keep YouTube to a minimum in my life, even after the season of Lent is over. The sheer amount of time that I have to be productive is amazing.

I did find myself, occasionally, after finishing an episode of Cadfael, hover over the “browse” button. My brain wanted to settle in to a good session of moving-picture-theater. The temptation is real. So I closed out and did something else.

If anything, the YouTube ban has shown me that I can, in fact, be in control of my YouTube watching habits.

Gotta show the restlesss spirit who’s in charge.

Requiescat in pace, Notre Dame

On a physical level, a beautiful building is burning.

I’ve never seen Notre Dame, never been to Paris. There is so much of our history—as a civilization, as a church—that I have yet to witness. At this point, I may never witness it at all.

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that the craftsmanship that constructed those old great cathedrals actually existed. The transcendently beautiful stained glass. The statues that seemingly contained no flaws. Men built that, with their hands.


On a social level, history is burning.

Individually, we come from dust and return to dust—but what our ancestors have accomplished is almost incomprehensibly vast. Generation upon generation, each building toward something bigger than himself, bigger than his family. Trusting a plan that was sound.

It’s hard for me to comprehend that a plan could stay intact for that long, long enough to build a cathedral. And yet, it did.

We modern men with our computers and our plastic and our planning models, we are but shadows compared to our forebears.


On a symbolic level, Christianity is burning.

Time is still passing, so I can’t say “we have failed.” It is not my place to say “we have failed.” Only God can judge that, and it is not yet the end of days. We are still called to press forward, to charge into the battle armed with His truth.

And yet, we can’t (wont?) defend a treasure of the faith. The church has gone from a place where we claim sanctuary, to a place that we can’t even keep safe.

We in the West have stretched the truth to our own purposes. We have distorted it into a funhouse mirror of social justice and impotent mercy. When we do try, our efforts feel neutered.

I am torn—torn between sorrow and a deep, silent rage.

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