29 March

The New Story

by Jon Katz
The new story

I’m seeing that the form of the story is changing, and rapidly. I see that the paper-bound story is nearing the end of its era. And that reading has never been more varied, vibrant or alive. That text and language are important. The expectations of readers are changing. They are getting used to stories that are cheaper, more visual, linked to text and sites, living, rather than finite things.

The new story is not one thing, but several. It is not as linear as stories used to be. The very idea of narrative has changed. The new story does not leave the characters and place entirely to the imagination of readers, but invites them along. It can be experienced in several different ways. New readers can enter the story itself. To see the story for themselves, and reach some conclusions of their own about the characters and the plot. The  new story transcends fiction in a way. It is an organic, evolving thing.

The reader and creator are no longer such separate entities, each with a distinct and distant role. They share the story in many ways.

Today I got my Ipad2, and sold my Ipad1. Lots of people want them. I got the new one for the video. The Fedex driver was excited. “You’re the fifth one today,” he said. “They are just beginning to come in.” The new Ipad will give me some expanded video capacity and allow me to present the story of my life in some different and evolving ways. I am not giving up text or still photography. I am just adding to those things. Somebody said, wow, you are ahead of the curve, and I laughed and said, no, I am way behind the curve. Just trying to catch up a bit.

29 March

Looking for God. People with answers.

by Jon Katz
Looking for God. Barn roof

Like many people, I’ve spent years looking for God. I’ve run to mountains, read St. Augustine, meditated, gone to Church, prayed and wept over the idea.  In America, there are always plenty of people who know the answers to things (just think of the dog and animal worlds, not to mention politics or religion)  and will tell you absolutely what to think and do and what is true or false. I get lost in America sometimes, overwhelmed by the angry din of people who know the answers to everything. I love people who understand that we know absolutely nothing. I am one of them. The more I live, the more things I realize I do not know.

But to get on TV in America, or to have a voice, you have to know absolutely everything. I will never be on TV.

To me, who is absolutely certain about nothing, the culture around me seems to be getting more rigid and absolute. And for me, a spiritual life begins by choosing not to listen to others, but to look inside of yourself, where most answers lie.

Take the idea of where God is and what he is. I accept that I will never know the answer to that for sure, anymore that I will have a perfect life without trouble, or that my technology will work right out of the box and every time beyond.  Or that I will behave perfectly all of the day, never yell at the dogs or lose my temper. When you call Customer Service these days, it is a spiritual experience testing your love and patience.

I just got an Ipad 2 with video. The Internet connection doesn’t work – yet. My video camera fell and the batter was lost. These are not crises. This is the yin and yang. We always think it used to be better, simpler. It was not, I bet.

I feel God at the Rouse farm. In the dead leaves I photograph. Walking my dogs. Seeing Maria and the donkeys. Posting a photo. Taking a photo. Writing a book. Making a little movie. Making a friend. Seeing Maria make a quilt or a potholder.  Sitting by the wood stove. Hiking in the woods. Reading a book. Listening to Kanye West. Reading Wendell Berry. Or Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Herding sheep with Rose. Holding Maria’s hand. Loving her. Growing, learning and change. Every new idea is a vision of God for me, every opportunity to tell my story, live my life, experience love and loss and darkness and light.

I pray that I never find God, because the search – a journey of a million little miracles – would be over.

One of the many things I have come to believe in recent years is that people who have all the answers have none.

29 March

Defining my world

by Jon Katz
Define yourself

Every day I find I have to define myself, in my own mind, my own head, before I go face a world determined to define me. To tell me I am “left” or “right.” To tell me I need tests and pills. To tell me I need discounts and checkups. And insurance and retirement funds. To tell me I should stop learning, stop loving, stop growing and shrink into the sad and small expectations of so much of our world. To tell me how I should grow older and die.

How rarely to I read or see things or meet people whose message is for me to grow, to experiment, to move ahead, to try new things, to be brave. The world defines itself this way: I am a dangerous place filled with horror and danger and suffering. Be frightened. The news of the world is grim, filled with travail and loss.

But that is not my world. I am responsible for my world. I decided how old I am. Or am not. What I can do. What my horizons and boundaries are. Whether I can have a spiritual life on my own terms, not only in their big and expensive buildings, accepting their rigid and unyielding dogmas.

Other people will not define me, even as the world around me looks for labels to put on me and boxes to put me in.

Every day is a choice. I make my own news. I seek a life that is meaningful, fulfilled, and bounded by growth, ceativity, love, friendship, spirituality, chance and hopefully, by compassion and understanding. And change. I think that’s my world as I define it.

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