Basil Godevenos's Blog, page 2

Grief’s Lament

O God, you allow evil to break me down even as your strength shores me up.

With one hand you sustain me and with the other you invite your enemies to poison the very water you’ve given me to drink.

My heart cries out, longing for the desire you placed therein, yet your hand does not guard it against the destroyer.

But in the midst of the pain that has become my daily bread, you cover my spirit in grace that heals.

For you are the healer of the broken, restorer of the lost, lifter of the fallen, and champion of the slain.

You will rescue me from the pit of my own despair. You will take me up in your arms and make me perfect and whole, O God.

For you are my God, and I will surrender to you.

Resilience and Joy in the Midst of Grief

Upon hearing of the recent death of my son, Ronin, an old colleague of mine who I haven’t seen in about five years, blessed me by sending me the text of a poem called “Dirge without Music”, by Edna St. Vincent Millay. You can read it here, or if you prefer, below is a video of Joan Crawford reading it in 1967.

There are moments in my present emotional landscape where the best I can do is agree with these words. The best I can do is rail and roil in my heart and mind against the ravages of death. There are even moments when I cannot even do that – when I feel utterly defeated. This is when I feel as though nothing matters. It’s that sense of futility that “Dirge” doesn’t stand for.

But there are also times – and these are the times I cherish – when I can go beyond not resigning myself to my son’s death. It’s these times, when God’s whispering voice finds a thin crevice in the hard walls of my heart, when I can say “I do not approve. And I am not resigned. Moreover I know that the best is NOT lost.” It’s in these moments that I can reach deep down past the murk of grief and sorrow and find joy flowing as if from a pure spring.

I know I will see my son Ronin again. I know that in that moment – in that eternity – we will both be whole and perfect men sharing a bond that is stronger than anything I could have hoped for in this earthly life.

A Eulogy for My Son, Ronin

What can a father say when he loses his only son? He can say he feels more pain than he’s ever felt before. He can say that life on this Earth is not fair. He can say he is distraught with grief and sadness. He can say he is angry.

When Ronin was born his heart stopped beating. It took the Natal Intensive Care team 12 minutes to get it started again. They gave me and Emma and our families six hours with our son. In those few hours, Ronin changed lives. Through the fear we felt and through the uncertainty of our hearts and minds, Ronin’s life touched us deeply. He taught us what a privilege parenthood is, and what a blessing it is to make sacrifices for your child. He taught us patience and endurance throughout the nine months he lived in Emma’s womb. He taught us to love each other more completely and with more tenderness than we thought we had in us. For all those things and many more, I thank him.

When Emma and I announced we were expecting, I used a photo of a lion and a cub to symbolize me and my son. I was most looking forward to teaching Ronin all that I know, and showing him the wonders of the world from the safety of his father’s side. I know now that the big lion in this photo was never me. It was always Jesus. And I know that when I pass from this broken world, in which my son will never have to suffer, it will be Ronin who teaches me, and shows me the wonders of eternity, and I will be the cub.

Wise and godly men have spoken to Emma and me in this past week. We know from them that Ronin’s short life had a divine purpose, and that his purpose in heaven is great. We know from them that some trials God reserves for the strongest of his children and that there is no pain God understands better than the loss of a son.

For the six hours Ronin lived, my chief thought and prayer was “He belongs to you, Lord.” When the doctors told us that even the life support systems were failing him, and that the best thing to do was to remove them and let him go, I knew God was answering: “Yes, he belongs to me, and I have need of him now.”

What can a father say when he loses his only son? He can say he is proud of his son. He can say it is an honor to share God’s pain. He can say his son is blessed to have never felt the pain of this world. He can say he is thankful for the time he had with him. And most of all, he can promise he will see him again, when they will both be made perfect.

We love you Ronin, and we are very proud of you.

A Conversation on the Nature of Evil and the Various Applications of Farming

HORTON: Mr. Billingsby, I presume?

BILLINGSBY: And you must be Horton. Good show, old fellow! Welcome to the Facility for the Attrition & Mitigation of Evil. Find the place alright?

H: If you are indeed HORATIO Billingsby, then yes, I have, although I must say IT has found ME quite perplexed.

B: Whatever about, dear fellow?

H: Well, for one thing, the, um, Facility for the Attrition and Mitigation of Evil -

B: You mean the Facility for the Attrition & Mitigation of Evil.

H: Quite, that’s what I said.

B: I’m quite sure you didn’t. I’m quite sure I heard you say “and” rather than using the preferred “&”. We at the Facility try very hard to project a unified brand to the public you know.

H: How could you – I – we’re SPEAKING! They sound identical.

B: Do they indeed? How fascinating! But, you were saying?

H: Right. Well, it’s just that, this Facility of yours appears to be a poultry farm.

B: And?

H: And you appear to be a poultry farmer.

B: Quite so. You are a damn sight sharper than you look, if you’ll pardon the profanity.

H: Not at all – look Mr. Billingsby, I am still confused.

B: About what?

H: About whatever poultry farming has got to do with ridding the world of evil! That is what your … establishment advertises as its primary function, is it not?

B: Quite right again! I see that nothing gets by you. To be specific, poultry farming has little to do with demolishing evil. Rather only one specific type of poultry farming has anything, and indeed everything, to do with the subject. Look around you Goodkind – may I call you Goodkind, Mr. Horton? You’ll see only one variety of bird at the Facility.

H: Chickens?

B: Chickens it is! An ornithologist as well as a – what did you say your profession was?

H: I didn’t.

B: Quite.

…

H: Why chickens?

B: Why, because chickens are inarguably the most evil creatures on the face of God’s green Earth. I’m surprised at you, Goodkind! What a silly question. Well, no matter, education is bound to fail every man in one way or another. Think nothing of it. Although, it seems an odd thing not to know.

H: I beg your pardon. Chickens are the evilest creatures?

B: Without question. Have you ever looked into the eyes of one of these horrible birds? Try it now. I can tell you one of two things will happen: either it will look away instantly, unable to hold your gaze out of shame, or it will stare at you with eyes filled to bursting with absolute malice.

H: Very well, I won’t presume to quarrel with an expert. But how does the active cultivation and distribution – am I correct that you do sell your chickens?

B: Oh yes, have to!

H: Right. So how does breeding chickens and sending them into the wide world reduce the amount of evil? I would think that would do quite the opposite.

B: Aha! There’s that collegiate mind I was quite sure you possessed, my dear fellow. A wonderful question. I’ll answer it with one of my own: what is evil?

H: I suppose there are two schools of thought among those who recognize evil as a meaningful word. One would be that evil is simply the absence of good. The other is that evil is a force in and of itself, a property of the universe.

B: It’s the second lot who’ve got the right of it, I’m afraid, which is why we need chickens.

H: I’m very sorry, but you’ll have to explain further.

B: I intend to. Are all Hortons so impatient? Evil is indeed a property of the universe. It is a measureable, quantifiable substance, if you have the correct instruments, and unlike energy, it can be destroyed. And must be! For as we all know, the more evil there is, the more there will be. The stuff breeds like rabbits.

H: Evil begets evil?

B: Quite right. Never a truer axiom. The idea is to keep ahead of the pace. It’s an eternal struggle, but we think we’ve struck a balance. If it weren’t for the vegetarians, we might be able to actually make a push and eliminate evil once and for all.

H: Vegetarians are evil?

B: Oh no – not more than anyone else. Less in fact. Look, that bit will be more obvious soon if you bear with me.

H: What choice do I have?

B: Well said. Where was I? Oh yes. Chickens. The flesh of the chicken is like a magnet and a sponge to evil. A living chicken draws the stuff into it from miles, even light years away. The most sophisticated radio telescopes have been able to detect evil moving slowly toward this Facility from over 10,000 astronomical units away.

H: Radio telescopes can detect evil?

B: Of course. If they’re tuned to the correct bandwidth. Anyway, the chicken flesh absorbs the evil, making the chicken into a sort of hazardous waste container.

H: But we eat them!

B: Yes of course. You see, human beings possess a unique digestive enzyme that renders evil inert as it passes from ingestion to elimination.

H: Fascinating.

B: Is it not? So, you must eat your chicken, my dear Goodkind, and do your part to keep evil from overrunning the universe. Only, don’t eat too much of it. There is a danger, you see. The human digestive tract can only process so much evil before the stuff leaks into the bloodstream and infects the mind. All the most evil men in history ate far too much chicken.

H: But Hitler, one of the most evil men in the world, was a vegetarian.

B: That, is a lie. Told by pig farmers. Those swine.

H: I see.

B: I hope that you do.

H: And how do I know that this isn’t just some grand tale you’ve concocted to make it a moral obligation for people to buy and eat your chickens?

B: I hope, Mr. Horton, that you are not making an accusation. But I can appreciate skepticism as much as the next fellow. If looking into the eyes of one of the birds is not enough to convince you, I can only point to your own experience of eating chicken.

H: My experience?

B: Certainly. Doesn’t the world feel like a better place when you’ve got a belly full of chicken?

H: I suppose it does.

B: There you are. That’s because you’re digesting some of the world’s evil out of existence. And really, my good, kind Mr. Horton, is eating less chicken really a risk you can afford to take? All humanity is counting on your appetite.

Happy Valentine’s Day

If you haven’t already, read Gamification. It’s kinda romantic.

… Kinda.

Emma and I will be upholding our subversive Valentine’s Day tradition of going to McDonald’s for dinner. We refuse to bow to the societal pressure to compete for a table at a fancy restaurant and eat froofy food.

Progress, Critiques & Other Stuff

In my last post I mentioned the Magic Spreadsheet, a gamification tool that helps you write consistently every day. I’ve been using it religiously, which is the whole point. I have missed a couple of days here and there, but overall my output has improved drastically.

Because of the spreadsheet I was able to power through completion of a story I wasn’t enjoying. I’m happy with the end result, but it was outside my normal wheelhouse. I don’t normally write military SF, and it was a challenge. By chipping away at it every day, forcing my butt into the chair and demanding a MINIMUM of 250 words, I eventually got it done.

That was my third short story finished since I launched this site. Sadly, they don’t have a magic spreadsheet for editing and revising your work. Although I WILL get to that with at least one of the stories I’ve written lately.

I’m now working on the notes for a novel – the one I said I was determined to have completed (in draft) by the time my son turns one (more on him in a bit).

Speaking of revision – I recently found a critique site called Scribophile. You sign up, read and critique others’ work for points, then spend points on putting your own work up for critique. Because it’s a members only critique site (anyone can be a member), putting your work up on it isn’t considered publishing it – so you haven’t burned any of your publication rights. It’s a very active community, although it remains to be seen how effective it really is as I haven’t yet posted any of my own work. I’ll let you know how that goes. Oh, and if you want to read my stories before anyone else – you can always join Scribophile and critique them!

In more personal news, my wife is about to cross the threshold into the third trimester of pregnancy. It’s weird to think that in just about 3 months I’ll have a son to take care of. I’m determined not to let that disrupt my 250 words per day.

On Goals

New Year’s resolutions are a bit passé, admittedly, and that is most likely because they’re usually impossible to keep. And why is that? Well, it might be because we set our sights too high, or it might be because we don’t really take them seriously. So this year I didn’t make any resolutions. Instead, I set goals for myself. And I didn’t set them on January 1st – I’ve actually been thinking about them and setting them throughout the whole month.

Here’s the difference between a resolution and a goal. Resolutions are usually negative (stop this habit, etc.), whereas goals are positive (reach this milestone, accomplish this task). And because goals focus on the achievement, they are more measurable, and therefore, more attainable. If you make a resolution to stop eating chips, and then you eat a bag of Ruffles in February, you say “Oh well” and you toss out the whole resolution. If you make a goal to eat more healthy snacks – one bag of Ruffles isn’t going to destroy your whole goal.

One of my goals was to lose about 10 pounds. I’ve lost 4 so far, and I’m feeling good. I reward myself for eating REALLY well during the week by eating a few junk items (Five Guys Burgers & Fries) on the weekend – and I still stay under my weekly calorie goal. Right now I use myfitnesspal to track food and exercise, but I’m soon going to purchase a Jawbone UP wristband and switch to their system.

Other goals are more long-term. For instance – I’m going to be a father this year. I have goals in place for raising my son. I know I won’t always be a perfect dad, but there are things I can check back on and ask myself whether I’m doing a good enough job against the goals I’m setting now. I’ve got friends and family who know about these things, and who will be honest with me when I ask them how I’ve been doing. Accountability is important if you want to reach your goals.

Another goal I have is to finish draft 1 of a novel by the time my son is 1 year old. This is only deceptively ambitious (which I must keep telling myself). My son, if all goes according to plan, will be born some time in late May. That means I have until at least the end of April 2014 to write a novel. My plan is to start writing in May of this year, and end up with somewhere between 90,000 and 100,000 words at the end of it (which is a pretty good length for a first novel).

That’s about 250 words a day. I’ve just written over 400 here and I’m still going strong. 250 words is NOTHING. Anyone could do that. Takes 20 minutes or less if you can focus. I’m using something called the Magic Spreadsheet to hold myself to writing at least 250 words a day. It’s pretty great – and you can all see when I’ve missed a day because it’s a totally public document. I encourage you to use it if you’re a writer. It will be a proper website soon, I’m told.

Right now, I’m using my words on some short fiction I need to wrap up, and on the Snowflake for my upcoming novel project. Every day I get a little closer to my goals.

What goals have you set? How are you doing with them?

Drabble: Out of Retirement

Alphaman peered up at the towering inferno. He could hear the screams of the young woman trapped on the 99th floor. He sighed and turned to the pimple-faced International Superhuman Retirement Reserve employee. “Don’t you have anything new?”

“Sorry sir,” the kid said, “we just don’t have the funding anymore.”

Alphaman flew to the roof of the skyscraper, ignoring the hired actress’s pleas as he passed her. He looked out at the perfect world he had helped create – that didn’t need superheroes anymore.

He was going to need a more sinister name … and where did one hire henchmen nowadays?

Illustration by Penny Myles (see all the illustrators)

What’s a drabble?

Like GladOS, Still Alive, Still Writing

Sorry about that title. For those that don’t get it, it’s a reference to a video game (Portal). Specifically to a song in that video game. Which has been in my head since the beginning of the year.

At least it’s a good song.

Anyway – I’ve got a new drabble that will be appearing soon on the site, and though things have been quiet around here since before Christmas, I haven’t been idle. I’ve written two short stories which I’m going to submit for publication (I’m currently editing them). And I’m about to sit down to write a third one.

The plan for these is to send them out to various pro and semi-pro fiction markets and hope to sell them. This is a lengthy process and can take months. I’ll keep you up to date on the rejections as they roll in.

Once I’ve become sufficiently convinced that a story won’t be picked up for publication, I’ll post it here for you to read. It shouldn’t go to waste, after all.

If a story is bought and published. You can be sure I’ll tell you about it (it will be my first professional or even semi-professional sale)! I’ll give you details on where you can find it when it’s published.

Gamification

Joseph submitted his proposal. He checked his score.

“Proposal complete: +500 points.”

On his way home Joseph hit five green lights in a row. He checked his score.

“Green lights hit: +250 points. Combo: x5. Total: +1,250 points.”

In the elevator, he checked the rankings. He was in the top 100 in the region. Remy, his wife, took the game more seriously. She was in fifth place, globally.

Joseph opened the apartment door and felt the knife pierce his chest before he saw Remy.

“Why?”

She showed him her score.

“Murder: +10,000 points. Love for victim: x10. Total: +100,000 points.”

Illustration by Penny Myles (see all the illustrators)

What’s a drabble?