A Year of Creating Dangerously, Day 316: Sunday God Quote from an Atheist

“The world is so exquisite with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence. Far better it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.” – Carl Sagan

It may seem counterintuitive to put a quote by an Atheist as your Sunday God Quote of the week. However, I couldn’t help but notice, though I am a Theist, that I agree very much with what Carl Sagan said.

I know that one problem Atheist have with God-believers is this notion of heaven, of an eternal somewhere in the great by-and-by, with streets of gold and shiny angels. It can be especially galling to the Atheist when they see the notion of heaven used to subjugate people, get them to accept their “lot” in life with a promise of something glorious after death. Or when heaven is an excuse to destroy the earth you live on, to strip it bare of resources and pollute it because, after all, it is all going to be burned up and replaced in the end. Or simply because it is too unbelievable, too much of an almost literal pie-in-the-sky mentality that distracts from the reality, both good and bad, of the life and the world we have to live here and now.

Though I am a Christian, have spoken and taught about heaven and the afterlife described in the Bible, have sung lots of songs about eternity and eternal life, and believe in resurrection (a necessity, I find, to accept that “Jesus Christ is Lord” thing), I have never been particularly motivated in my life by a great promise of a Hereafter. To me, the concept of a possibility of a life after this one doesn’t give me my motivation to get out of bed in the morning, to go to work, to love my family, to do good things, to consider people, to work for peace, to take care of my environment, to hug trees (which I do now and again) or snuggle with animals (which I try to do more often than now and again). Heaven is too out there, too vague, too undefined, to be something I cling to on a daily faith basis. And, frankly, I find believers who spend inordinate amounts of time thinking and talking about it kind of annoying. They are so often missing out on the original gift their God has given them: Life. Here. Now. Right in front of their flippin’ nose.

The older I get, the more I find Life fascinating. Perhaps it is because of that creeping sense of mortality. But I am learning not to be afraid of that inevitability, or even to soften the blow by talking of heaven, but to instead realize that if God has given me this time, I have a responsibility to give that time back, to live to the fullest I am capable of living, to embrace my gifts and abilities, to love people without holding anything back. In this way I am in total agreement with Carl Sagan: “Far better it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.”

Amen, Carl. Preach it. I may get me a turtleneck or two just to be more like you.

I realize that the concept of Heaven has been very, very important for oppressed people groups or people in terrible straights or conditions. In that kind of circumstance, the pondering of a God who loves you so much as to embrace you and bring you Home one day is lovely and, honestly, comforting. But for a North American Christian like myself, one who has known nothing but religious freedom all my life, who has been given so much, I choose not to focus on Heaven but on earth and on what each day brings to me. Here. Now. Right in front of my flippin’ nose.

Until Death It Is All Life

Ronald Kok, Until Death It i All Life, Craft Foam Mosaic, 2017

 

A Year of Creating Dangerously, Day 198: Until Death It is All Life

Until Death It Is All Life.JPG

Until Death It Is All Life, Ronald Kok, Craft foam mosaic, 2017

“Hasta la muerta es toda la vida.” These words are spoken by Sancho Panza, faithful squire to the noble knight Don Quixote.

Miquel de Cervantes Saavedra wrote the incomparable and influential The Ingenious Nobleman Mister Quixote of La Mancha (or more commonly know as Don Quixote) in the early part of the 17th century. It was published in two parts between 1605 and 1615. The tale is equal parts comedy and tragedy, full of madness and imagination, and making commentary on so many things that the book is constantly reinterpreted with each passing age. It is the Great Spanish novel and has gained a well deserved place as one of the best works of fiction in the world.

I’m not sure how Don Quixote took center stage in my latest mosaic. There is something so mysterious about that inspiration that befits the tale of the nobleman who imagines himself a knight, tilting at windmills that he believes are squatting giants all over the Spanish countryside. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Quixote was supposed to be about my age when he lost his grip on reality. Perhaps it has to do with that fine line between realism and imagination in the story that is so often my own fine line. Perhaps it is the influence Spain has had on me, having spent four months there at the formative age of 21.  Perhaps it is the specter of mortality that has been following me like my own shadow, daring me to embrace life. Or perhaps it is none of these at all.

Whatever it was that first gave me the push to create this artwork, I know that there were also some very straightforward choices on my part: First, I chose to include a reference to the Spanish flag in this work (the red, yellow, red of the background); Second, I chose to reference the brilliantly organic and colorful mosaics of Antonio Gaudi, the great Spanish artist; and Third, I chose to include the quote as an affirmation of life in the face of inevitable death.

So there you have it.

This artwork took much effort in both conceptualization of the idea and in execution of it (i.e., a helluva lot of hours cutting up craft foam and gluing it on). I started with what I call “WalMart Art”, a factory-produced piece of art bought at a second-hand store which I painted black; then I sketched out the idea, started with the figure of Don Quixote on Rocinante and built the artwork from there.

“Until death it is all life” – May this inspire you to embrace your life and live it out brightly and colorfully.

Below are some photos of the process.