meaning

‘With No Love for Calculus’

letter.01

“The world is so much larger than I thought. I thought we went along paths, but it seems there are no paths. The going itself is the path.”

- C.S. Lewis (in Perelandra)

Calculus. 

OAC Calculus.

(Grade 13 Calculus for all you youngins)  

It all started with calculus. 

Actually - it ended in calculus. 

I went to one class. 

The first class, in the third period, of my first - but second last semester - of high school. My ‘victory lap’. 

I remember sitting in a packed classroom listening to the teacher excitedly articulate the wonders of high-level math. He was impassioned. Clear. A dedicated teacher. One of the good ones. It wasn’t his fault. It just happened. 

Like a conscious, sound-drowning-out, fade-to-black moment. 

It struck me.

‘I don’t care about calculus…’ 

At all. 

‘Right!’ You scoff. ‘Blame the subject! You were lazy! Scared of the work!’ And while that might be true, I’d like to think that it wasn’t the math. I like math. 

Or the work. Slacked as I can be - I am not afraid of work.

Calculus - at that moment - was a means to an end that had no meaning to my end. 

Calculus = university credits = university = sciences = pre-optometry = School of Optometry! 

Yes. I was considering being an optometrist ‘when I grew up’. I liked biology. I had decent grades. I was fascinated with the eye. I “needed” a job. Simple high-school math. 

interests + grades = forever career

But what lacked in my equation - my calculus (boom - there it is!) - was meaning.  Passion.  The driving force. The purpose of it all. 

The why.

I had a solid what and how - but lacked a real why. I knew in my guts that being fascinated by the eyeball wasn’t enough of a reason to spend a lifetime helping other people’s eyes. Calculus was a link in a long chain that I didn’t feel compelled to hold. 

Chain broken. 

I dropped out that same day…

I was in search of something more. 

Yearning for something that categorized the totality of my life’s goals and purpose. 

‘What could be more meaningful than studying God Himself?’ I mused. And as I stood in the hallway of my high school I had made a decision. ‘I am going to Bible College.’

*Full disclosure. I am an ordained minister. I went to Bible College. And then Seminary. I have served as a Pastor in a couple of churches (though no longer). I am a follower of Jesus, committed to being His hands and feet.  

Admittedly, I never felt at home within the ‘us/them’ and ‘you’re in/you’re out’ categorizations organized religion often propagates. But I can’t lie. I have never regretted following my intuition in that early search for meaning. My step in dropping calculus was the first of many along the cobbled path to where I am now. A path that has winded and climbed up many-a-wondrous mountains with sweeping views. Perspectives. Purpose. For me - meaning has culminated with the person of Jesus. His life. Deeds. And story. His invitation to explore what it means to be fully human: God, faith, family, community, science, the arts, sociology, stories, people.

Recently my path led me to another life-changing - fully awake, sound-drowning-out, fade-to-black, spotlight shining - moment. This time I was sitting at my kitchen table. 

And it struck me. 

‘It’s about meaning.’

My ‘why’ is the pursuit of meaning itself. Not the answer. But the question. Merriam-Webster defines meaning (noun) as: significant quality, especially: implication of a hidden or special significance. 

Making meaning. Finding meaning. Organizing meaning. Expressing meaning. Searching out meaning.

What is true.

What is good. 

What is right. 

What is purpose.

Seeking out the answer to the question: ‘What is life all about?’ Discovering what. Exploring why. Finding meaning. 

A chasing after meaning. 

What followed was a wave of ideas, plans, purpose, and productivity. New dawn. New light. Bright. Clear. Non-anxious and exhilarating. 

Chasing Lion was born. 

A new link in the chain. A dedicated effort to house, hold and honour my pursuit of meaning - spoken in my natural tongue - the arts. Pictures, stories, words, ideas. Intended as an open-handed offering - or - making and sharing of my meager gifts with the world. My hope is to inspire others, who like me, are in the chase for meaning. 

I will make. 

Tell stories - short, long, deep. Draw pictures. Take photos. Paint. Make movies. Bind books. 

I will share. 

Write letters (to you). Host. Curate. Sell. Give. Offer-up. Encourage.

I will invite.

You. And others to join, if you wish, to journey along with me. Spiritually discover. Intellectually collaborate. Laugh. Cry. Sit. And run together.

Imagination. Play. Hope. Wholeness. 

These are the guard-words that will ground my pursuit. Whatever I make and whatever I share I aim to land within their confines. I want to inspire imagination towards curiosity, wonder, questioning, critique, ideas. I want to do so playfully, collaboratively - joyfully - with humour and liveliness. I want to offer hope and light to those who are in dark places. Give space to grieve. Mourn. And be comforted. Finally, I yearn for wholeness, individually and collectively. Attached. Together. Within families, communities, and across generational lines. 

I know not where this cobbled path will lead. 

Or how many links in the chain will follow. 

All I can do is take the next step. 

Forge the next link.

To whatever hill. Or valley. Or view. I am ready for the quest. My pursuit. 

Chasing Lion. 

With much love, 

your friend 

-amos

p.s. I intend to write a letter a week. just like this…just not as long.