Cinematic (scroll slowly, if you please)

(sound of sea gulls and waves breaking)









(movie voice)
...There is an island...








...Where men are taken...
(sound of iron door closing)









...And forgotten...









(Montage of prison scenes... strong Prison Break associations)







(movie voice)

ALCATRAZ

Ok, ok. I've gotten myself way off track here. I started out with an impulse to mention that I'd recently been to Alcatraz, aka The Rock, and describe my little foray out there. (Not as an inmate...)

You just have to come up here and see it. I went about a month ago with my mom, Cory, Cora, and Daniel Ian; what a trip. There is a spectacular audio tour and it's loads of fun to ride the ferry out there. Just being on a boat is somehow freeing... even if you are headed for a prison. And yes, without question it helps if you're a fan of the series Prison Break.

Furthermore, Cory Schoolland was hard at work taking photos; all these images come from his lens, his imaginative capture. (He's got downloads for sale on his website for 50 cents a shot if you're into "supporting the arts." I know he'd appreciate a half-a-dollar nod to his talent.)

Until the next cinematic adventure...

The Chosen One

Please, Please, Please.

Watch the video that changed the way I looked at flash animation: Animator vs. Animation

And when that baffles your funny bone, go for round two: Animator vs. Animation II

You will not be disappointed.

Lunch with Bob

I have described the nefarious Bob Harrison, Maintenance Man of Raphael House, on a number of occasions: overalled, bulldog gait, wheezy laugh, unashamed user of the Leatherman he always carries with him, and the unrivaled boyish imp gleam in his eye.

Well, this man took me out to lunch today because, well, he found twenty bucks in a stack of old faxes and decided to make good use of it.

After a casual walk to Brownie's Hardware Store, where we ordered some window shades and picked up some staples, we slipped into Sushi Rock. And you guessed it, we ate sushi to rock music (actually more techno-y, eighties remixes, but eh, close enough). Please...enjoy the pleasure of their website: http://www.sushirocksf.com/

The food was spectacular. I know this because at one point in our conversation, I was inspired to say, "Man, I could eat Japanese food all the time." "All the time?" Bob asks with the impish eyebrow raise. "Ummm, ya I think I could," say I with the sort of 'hey I hadn't really thought about that for real until just this very moment' face.

During this conversation, Bob also recounted a story from his Navy days where a routine "fuel transfer" turned almost catastrophically awry: He's a crewman on a supply ship with the mission of refueling Destroyers and other massive ships that need refueling. It's a pretty standard operation. At such and such a latitude and longitude at such and such a time, the ships meet, travel slowly side by side and connect the gas tanks to the supply ship by cables and hoses. Mission starts as planned. It's night time, a little haze over the water, the ships meet and travel together at twelve knots. No problem. The fuel ship shoots the cables over to the Destroyer, and then wires across the hoses that will carry fuel between ships. Standard procedure. The ships are linked. About ten minutes into the fuel transfer, the fuel tanker's engine dies. In the numbing speed of crisis, the tanker slows to a stop as the Destroyer keeps going at twelve knots. The cables and hoses go guitar string tight. " 'Pop, pop, pop, pop,' is all I remember," says Bob, "and the hoses are shooting out gas, flying around in the air like garden hoses on full blast; the steel cables fly back with so much force that when they hit the side of the ship there were sparks everywhere. It's a miracle no one got hurt. It could of easily blown up the ship."

But with a slight shake of his head and a little sigh that marveled at his fortune, he went back to his sushi.

And the techno music played on...

Proposition:

It's time to write about something other than Orthodoxy. I'm wearing myself out with all the blog posts on this subject. Obviously, it's pulsing through my thoughts these days.

So... not tonight, but sometime soon (like tomorrow), I propose an entry about something: else.

Props to Ms. Parkinson for inspiring my generous use::: of the colon:::

Write on, fellow bloggers. Your readings are way fun to read.

ANNOUCEMENT!!! You're the one to bear the One.

Such were the words of Gabriel to a girl just out of middle school.

And she, two years younger than my sister Charity, said with a fearfully exuberant gleam in her eye, "May it be to me as you have said."

Then she grew up with her kid Jesus, and by the time she was my age, Jesus is almost ten! I couldn't imagine what it'd be like to have charge of a ten year old at this time in my life, especially because that means that I would have been raising a child for the last ten years. What happens to grad school, theatre, college, high school? I don't care if he is the Son of God, I still don't know how I would have done.

And this also strikes me: she's only forty-seven when she watches her son get crucified.

Wow. Most of the 'adults' in my life are older than that now.

Today's the feast day of the Annunciation. The moment when it all starts. God decides to step in, to pick up the mantle of flesh, so he sends an archangel to a little girl.

Addendum

And of at once little significance and Great significance, I spoke into existence my desire to become a part - communally, sacramentally, wholly - of the Orthodox Faith to Father John Takahashi, my spiritual guide through the process of Catechism. Today I Named, proclaimed, the journey that I pray the Lord takes to kenotic completion: a life of Love in Christ, the Savior of all Mankind. I have been on this journey for a long time - since my baptism at age twelve (praise God!) - and now comes my next submission, my next step. I humbly ask for your prayers.

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.

Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy.

Though the prayers of our holy fathers, Lord Jesus Christ our God, have mercy on us, and save us.

Amen.

Your servant,
Zak Landrum

Abbot Meletios

Today...

I spent nearly eight hours today sitting under the teaching of Abbot Meletios of Saint John's Monastery in Manton, California. Here is a brief letter from Father Meletios on the web page of the monastery: http://www.monasteryofstjohn.org/monastery.htm. His "lectures" today were a simple sharing of his thoughts and wisdom gained in a life of practice in the Orthodox Faith. We ripped the lid off of some deep theological questions, not the least of which is the Orthodox idea of the "deification" of man - theosis - that is the aim and expectation of every Orthodox Christian. This deserves a much fuller explanation, as to a Western-minded soul such as myself, the idea of this thin space where "the line between where you end and God begins becomes fuzzy" is almost outrageous. But let me say this: to explain again to you the idea of theosis is one thing; sitting in the room with this man talking about it is quite another. His spirit ignited talking about the glory and mystery of communion, of Eucharist. I wish I could put even a bit of that radiant joy into my discussion. His discussion was firmly grounded in the experience of theosis; it was not merely an academic discussion. It was personal. Jesus Christ really is at the Center of the Orthodox faith. I bore witness to that today in the simple, but beatifully complex person of Archimandrite Meletios.

The talk was so utterly emotionally/physically/intellectually/spiritually exhausting for me, the Catacumen, that as soon as I got back to Raphael House, I fell asleep and woke up four hours later. I'm now on my way to play board games with Cory and Cora at Cory's apartment. A holy pursuit all in itself.

Goodnight. And Peace be with you.

Re: Your Re:'s

May I just say: It's Good to be back.

Tonight, I figured it'd be nice to bounce back on some things that were said in the comments section of yesterday's blog. I begin with, ahem,

Kellie: You are too kind. And... you get the prize for an almost-instantaneous comment/question. Not sure what that is yet, but when I figure it out, I'll letchya know. Oh ya, I'm meeting with Father John tomorrow (two times in a week!), so I'll be sure to ask about the Orthodox vs. Catholic crossing. A thing of little importance seemingly, but no thing is a little thing in this Church. I'll ask. Aaannnnd.... Your chipmunk story is phenomenal. I laughed all morning.

Casey: I have indeed read Michael Chekhov's book and IT IS AMAZING!!! Ian, a 40-something quirky-but-cool cat at church - he's an actor and I think we're gonna do some performance together fairly soon - told me an interesting Michael Chekhov story. Turns out, Chekhov's a pretty devout Orthodox churchman who at one point visited the Elders of Optina (near-clairvoyant monks in 19th and early 20th century Russia who are renowned for their spiritual counsel) and experienced some kind of time-warp miracle there. The way I understand it, he had to catch a train that had already left or was about to leave and he had many miles to walk before getting to the train station. When he left with the prayers of the monks, he arrived and the train miraculously hadn't left. And no, it wasn't just a late train, because that's what I'd be thinking if I was you; the specifics are still a little hazy and I'm doing some more research. I guess at the moment, you can chaulk it up to one of those crazy not-quite-sure stories. Still, cool that he's got a miracle story. And Awesome that Michael Chekhov was Orthodox (I mean, it makes sense, he did live in Russia). Furthermore, I think it's an interesting side note to ponder whether his brilliant theatrical innovation of psychological gesture as a means of internalizing character was born out of his life-experience of crossing himself, prostrating in Church, and pilgriming to various holy sites. Just a ponderance. Great to hear about your continuing theatrical pursuits, as well, Mr. Caldwell. This "Fear Project" is, I must say, rather intriguing. Please do keep us posted.

Johnathan: First of all, your blog is a warm log fire in a comfy living room chair. I love your plodding prose and humble spirit as it blossoms forth in your language. Just excellent. I think your comment on my last entry is right on about deeper meaning coming from outward manifestations like raising of hands, and I do certainly hear your concern about making something like crossing oneself a rote, empty gesture. An empty spirit with a cross drawn over it is still an empty spirit. In my experience, however, the gesture is itself the genesis of the meaning. Quite unlike hand-raising which for me usually comes when I'm having an emotional experience, crossing myself is more like blocked action in a stage play. A director sets the actions so that an actor can fill the gestures with meaning and purpose. The actor uses the gesture to generate an internal feeling rather than vice-versa. So too with the gesture of crossing oneself. One other example comes to mind for me: during Lent in the Orthodox tradition, there are set times in the service that the whole congregation prostrates towards the alter. I, of course, new to this whole thing, did the prostrations because they were part of the service. But in this knees tucked, forehead to the floor position, I began to feel humility. I was conscious of my body and how my clothes no longer fit, the people around me doing the same humble act, and perhaps most importantly focused my worship on Christ. I thought, "This must be what it feels like in the court of a king, bowing when he arrives or when he stands up in his throne." What a cool heart-development from a simple action. So like I said, I completely hear your reservations about "going through motions" because believe me, I've done that too. I mean only to highlight that there is another side, a generative side, to motions themselves that cannot be underestimated.

To you three especially, good night and thank you for your writerly interest. To all others that read and are blessed, thanks for taking the public-letter ride.

For the Glory of our Hope, Jesus Christ, Amen.

Bearing my Cross

Topic at hand: the psychological gesture.

It's been on my heart to write for a while, but creativity was refusing to sing within me; I had lost focus, passion, desire to write to you: my audience. I'm sad and sorry for the time I've been lost in my own little world of worries.

But I'M BACK!

Orthodoxy seems to be the constant in my life now. The Reason I moved to San Francisco, the mystically practical Foundation upon which I am building the rest of my life, the Hallowed Ground where I have been meeting with our Lord. If you want to hear me talk passionately about something, a guarunteed way of getting me to LAUNCH into excitement is: The Church.

Attention theater friends: I had a super cool revelation during morning prayers at Raphael House today. I understood that crossing myself is a) SO important for me and b) why it is so important for me. The answer comes straight out of my Acting II classes when Mitchell was teaching us about "psychological gestures."

Mitchell described how we could engage our imagination, our inner life by "sending energy." We would do exercises like "Soaring" to Sting's "Shape of my Heart," and focus intently on lifting only our right hand with "soft focus" and imaginative energy. The result was a breathtaking stage of Fully Committed actors who sent energy out of their fingertips like water moving in slow motion through air. The intentionality of that simple motion gave each actor the overwhelming power of a sorcerer calling the air to his service. The motion was Full of life force.

"Crossing oneself" is for me the fulfillment of this theatrical idea. To send a gesture back into oneself is... insanely powerful. The motion, the energy, the intentionality becomes completely personal, a gesture made by yourSelf for yourSelf with specific meaning to yourSelf. However, it is not just any gesture of the imagination, as Chekhov explores in the world of acting. The cross is an ancient symbol, the symbol for Christians to "take up" as they deny themselves. So every time I draw this gesture into my body, I am forced to ask, "What is my cross?" I must crucify the vices of the first Adam even as I take on the Virtues of Christ. I often make the gesture to the words, "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit," an invocation of the Godhead, the Triune Harmony, who invites me into relationship by taking up my Cross. I brand myself with Light, even as I internalize the whole message of the saving Gospel. Prayer and action and form collide in this quiet act, this crucifix blessing.

Father John told me in our first meeting to cross myself; I see now the wisdom of his counsel. By crossing myself, I send the Story into mySelf.

To you, my readers, I highly suggest trying it. In my experience, the outer form gives freedom to inner life. Christ is faithful to bless even the humblest effort.

In Peace, your Servant,
Zak