The Story Told by True North

So many things tell us stuff about so many other things. All we have to do is look around and listen.

One of my new favorite "images of God" in the physical world is the simple compass. Here's a fun page written by a guy named Marshall Brain that shows how a compass works. We've all heard about the magnetic field that runs north and south around the earth. Strangely enough, according to Mr. Brain, no one actually knows why the earth has this magnetic field. Here's what he says:

No one knows for sure, but there is a working theory currently making the rounds. As seen on the above, the Earth's core is thought to consist largely of molten iron (red). But at the very core, the pressure is so great that this superhot iron crystallizes into a solid. Convection caused by heat radiating from the core, along with the rotation of the Earth, causes the liquid iron to move in a rotational pattern. It is believed that these rotational forces in the liquid iron layer lead to weak magnetic forces around the axis of spin.

Fascinating.

I love the simple stuff that remains a mystery to science.

This appeals to my mythic self because it's a beautiful way of thinking of the Spirit of God in us. That there is this "true north" instinct inside us that, given a few still moments, reorients us in the direction of true-north, which we might shorten to say "tru-th."

The simple notion of magnetism in general, and of true north in particular, speaks to us of the gentle, patient guidance of the Spirit within us. No compass ever told its operator which way to go. It simply points. No compass ever lied to its operator, but circumstances can certainly cause it to vary.

God was so creative when He hid Himself within his creation like this.

O Lord, my God
When I, in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds
Thy hands have made...

Another Week, Another Culture

If you have a chance, take a look at this Mexico City photo album. The pictures are taken from a helicopter. Incredible city, Mexico City. I just spent a week there on business during one of the busiest traffic weeks of the year.

Mexico City (like Manila, Philippines) is like a time capsule for American culture from the 70's and 80's. I can't tell you how many times I heard the song "Every Breath You Take." But it was cool seeing all the old American cars. Early 70's Novas, Pintos, Dusters, Mavericks, Volares, Dodge Vans, Javelins, you-name-it, they still drive 'em.

Must be the climate is really favorable for car frames. In New York, we could barely get 15 years out of a car.

When I was in high school, my first car was a '70 Nova, like this one:


Mine was a 2 door, 250 ci, 6 cyl., 3-on-the-tree, gold with gold vinyl top (it was not a SS). Ended up dragging the gas tank on the road all the way to school, the day the frame rusted out a couple years after I got it. Bought it for $500 cash.

After that, I had a ridiculous car (remember Pontiac Astres?) which wouldn't pass inspection, then a pretty nice 1977 Vega just like this one, which I drove out to college:


I don't remember what happened to that one.

After that, a '77 Vega Wagon, silver, red vinyl seats, 4 speed, with a brand new engine in it. That's the car that my girlfriend (now my wife) fell in love with.

When I bought it, the guy left a cassette tape between the seats. It was Mozart's 40th Symphony. I listened to that tape probably 250 times. I had never really heard classical music, and Mozart was like a drug to me. Made me decide to go to school for music (after I dropped out of bible college, got married, and had a couple kids).

So Wednesday afternoon I'm riding with Hector and Rodolfo, a couple guys at the distributor I was with, heading out to a sales call. Rodolfo turns on the stereo (they ALL play the radio in the car ALL the time) and what was he playing? No, it wasn't Mozart. (Sorry, I couldn't resist).

It was Vivaldi! With my best Spanish accent, I said, "You like Vivaldi, Rodolfo!?" And in his best English, he says, "You know Vivaldi, Jon?" And for the next 45 minutes we talked about classical music. Me, Rodolfo, and Hector. A gringo and two amigos in Mexico City talking about Italian, German, and Austrian composers. Very fun.

Around 1990 I got a cool looking '70 Chevy C10 Pickup. It was a rust bucket, but I liked it. My first pickup. It looked like this, except orange and white:


The point to this journey down memory lane is--I saw all of these in Mexico City, driven by middle aged Mexicans who didn't think anything of it.

If I ever take a notion to collect some of the old cars I used to own, I'll fly to Mexico City again and snatch them up. I bet I could get one of each for about 10,000 pesos.