Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The Written Condition
When I was in Kenya my friend, Brenda, told me that I had too many emotions. That phrase has stuck with me for quite some time. I never paid much mind to my inability to harness my emotions till of late when I realized that my adolescence is over. Really, I’m no longer a teenager but my emotions, like rapid fire, are constantly changing faster than any mood ring could signify. So, as luck would have it, in finding out what it is to be an adult I’m discovering that I am way too emotional! And I’m finding that to live in this world as a student, as a young professional, as a social being, and as a writer, I have to be a bit schizo to enjoy the normality’s of life with which a person who has been averagely endowed with emotions would live. This means putting a preconditioned block on the depths with which my soul tries to understand each and every situation I encounter during the day. Simultaneously, I need to feed the flame of my dream like state to relieve the emotions that roar within me. I’m forming a split between the life I live every day and my dream world of writing. Both personalities are within me, feeding off of the same stream of Self. In a complicated way, both my natural self and my logical self are being cut in two, like a log hammered through by the wedge of an axe. In this split, I have not one conscious but two conscious’. I’m not living one life but two lives—life in the real and life intangible.
Monday, September 29, 2008
on love
We young adults are creeping up on the climax of life, aren’t we? We are peeling off our layer of adolescence to the new, soft skins of adulthood. We are filled with the wonder of what marriage will be like, of what having sex with the same person who helps to pay bills will feel like. Our eyes are wide open to life beyond college. And honestly, the view from this ethereal climate has got my heart sinking faster than I can graduate.
But God has given us a scapegoat on even this. All the evils of this world, the lost siblings, the violence on the news, the shallow moral standards our society seems to support, can all be blocked out by viewing the world in the same naïve perspective as a child.
As children we were, in simple terms, stupid with the spoon fed reality painted for us by our parents, cartoons, and teachers. The world was crisp and fresh, like an unopened Christmas present. It’s just too bad that once we hit our twenties, the whole brilliance of the shiny new world we had set out to conquer after high school turned out to be a piece of coal rather than a shiny new bicycle. Our parents made it look so easy, so wonderful. Now, here I sit, months before my college graduation and I wonder what this “shiny new” world has to offer me. Bush has gone and run the whole of the economy through the mud. How am I as an artist, a writer, a musician, going to fit into this trash can of a mess? When thinking of my future I get the image of me walking up to strangers with a tin can asking, “do you wanna hear me sing?” Pathetic really….
Regardless how dire the situation may appear, I think God made an escape clause even for those of us budding into adult hood. Because really, how could a child want to grow up into anything if it really new what this world had to offer? And there is no denying that God wants us to be like children. In asking us to believe like children God made love to be this infamous clause—the clause that can pull the wool over our eyes. The clause that can make my college debt look manageable instead of setting me off on a suicidal rampage immediately after I’ve taken off my cap and gown.
Falling in love is what got my parents through the first years of post college poverty. They had kids, they had debts, they were fighting cancer and saving the orphans in Africa, all the while they had each other. Love… not just love, but romantic love, has the capability to allow us to feel and think and know the world as innocent children do. With romantic love we are willing to walk into the greedy jungle that is this earth, every day of our lives, and mine a bit of its goodness and bring it back home. Because home is where the heart is. Home is where the love is.
And I ask, “God, where is my romantic love, now that the naïve veil with which I held this world in so much affection has now fallen from my eyes? Ecclesiastes 4:9 says, “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: if they fall down, they can help each other up. But pity those who fall and have no one to help them up!”
Usually I would take the matter into my own hands, go out and find me a man. But I’m trying this thing where I pray and ask for guidance before I make any irrational and emotion based decisions. Solomon says about three or four times in the Song of Songs, “do not arouse or awaken love until it desires.” Melissa Otto sings a song with the same lyrics, “don’t awaken love till it desires, God’s more than enough.” And so I trust, that if God can put all of those road signs in my life telling me to wait it out and that the good stuff is yet to come, well then heck, I’m going to have faith and hold him to his promise! He’s going to come through for me in a mighty way.
But God has given us a scapegoat on even this. All the evils of this world, the lost siblings, the violence on the news, the shallow moral standards our society seems to support, can all be blocked out by viewing the world in the same naïve perspective as a child.
As children we were, in simple terms, stupid with the spoon fed reality painted for us by our parents, cartoons, and teachers. The world was crisp and fresh, like an unopened Christmas present. It’s just too bad that once we hit our twenties, the whole brilliance of the shiny new world we had set out to conquer after high school turned out to be a piece of coal rather than a shiny new bicycle. Our parents made it look so easy, so wonderful. Now, here I sit, months before my college graduation and I wonder what this “shiny new” world has to offer me. Bush has gone and run the whole of the economy through the mud. How am I as an artist, a writer, a musician, going to fit into this trash can of a mess? When thinking of my future I get the image of me walking up to strangers with a tin can asking, “do you wanna hear me sing?” Pathetic really….
Regardless how dire the situation may appear, I think God made an escape clause even for those of us budding into adult hood. Because really, how could a child want to grow up into anything if it really new what this world had to offer? And there is no denying that God wants us to be like children. In asking us to believe like children God made love to be this infamous clause—the clause that can pull the wool over our eyes. The clause that can make my college debt look manageable instead of setting me off on a suicidal rampage immediately after I’ve taken off my cap and gown.
Falling in love is what got my parents through the first years of post college poverty. They had kids, they had debts, they were fighting cancer and saving the orphans in Africa, all the while they had each other. Love… not just love, but romantic love, has the capability to allow us to feel and think and know the world as innocent children do. With romantic love we are willing to walk into the greedy jungle that is this earth, every day of our lives, and mine a bit of its goodness and bring it back home. Because home is where the heart is. Home is where the love is.
And I ask, “God, where is my romantic love, now that the naïve veil with which I held this world in so much affection has now fallen from my eyes? Ecclesiastes 4:9 says, “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: if they fall down, they can help each other up. But pity those who fall and have no one to help them up!”
Usually I would take the matter into my own hands, go out and find me a man. But I’m trying this thing where I pray and ask for guidance before I make any irrational and emotion based decisions. Solomon says about three or four times in the Song of Songs, “do not arouse or awaken love until it desires.” Melissa Otto sings a song with the same lyrics, “don’t awaken love till it desires, God’s more than enough.” And so I trust, that if God can put all of those road signs in my life telling me to wait it out and that the good stuff is yet to come, well then heck, I’m going to have faith and hold him to his promise! He’s going to come through for me in a mighty way.
Monday, September 22, 2008
bicycle high
Last semester I went through a huge burnout. Coming back to AU after a long summer of healing I thought that I had wiped away all residue of my burnout. But when I got back to school anxiety still nestled tightly between my shoulder blades, the loneliness, and self deprecating thoughts came back to me in my afternoons. But I couldn't forget all of the good I had been taught over the summer. For one, I had learned that depression and loneliness were part of the deception of sin. I had to remember what dire straights God had pulled me out of over the summer. It was only then that I could depend on the assurance that I wouldn't fall back into the pits that had caused me to stumble before. Because I had stopped driving my life and I had given the wheel to God. So, knowing that God was in control and that life was full of unexpected happenings, I stopped worrying about the future. It was amazing the turn around I experienced. I can honestly say that this afternoon, while riding my bike in the early fall weather, that I felt completely free from all the pain and confusion that desiccated my life last semester. I was flying high on Christ, on life, and knowing that He is in control of everything. An unparalleled bliss.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Grill Igloo Cheatham
Oh GoSH! If you want something interesting to read. Read THIS. Especially since I've only just learned of Anne Lamott from my Approaches to Writing class. I've fallen in love with the assigned reading she wrote called "Bird by Bird." Anyway, read the article. It's a good one.
the climax of life
We young adults are creeping up on the climax of life, aren’t we? We are peeling off our layer of adolescence to the new, soft skins of adulthood. We are filled with the wonder of what marriage will be like, of what having sex with the same person who helps to pay bills will feel like. Our eyes are wide open to life beyond college.
But after the climax, after we have settled into our grandly large or horribly small yearly incomes—after we’ve had a kid or two and managed to finally pay off our college debts—life will be a warm fall day instead of a bursting spring one. Because it is at the climax of our lives—when the hill we’ve been climbing our entire academic lives finally starts to level out—that the terrain of life is altered in a non expected way.
We will have conversations with friends who are dying from this or that. We will watch as our siblings who have somehow righted themselves from the waywardness of their youths fill up with one disease or one debt or one spouses horrible accident. And we will lament for them, for their crashing and burning world… but we will keep on. Because strangely enough life is summed up in these small grievances, but at the same time turns out to be much more impressive and worthy of our hope even after these mishaps. We will see worlds in other people, other things, in our children and the familiarity of how our houses squeak when we pad down the hall to the restroom. We will cradle the frailty of life in the crooks of our arms and shoulder burdens far too large for our backs and sometimes our wallets, just as they were too large for our parents’. And strangely enough, we will keep on keeping on.
And when we have turned over the graves of our parents, when we have become the elder in the lives of those around us, there will be no stopping the snowball effect of life. Life will push through our sickness, our age, our broken hips. Life will push through our rebellious children and dusty offices. Life will consume our resources and weedle into our joints to slow us down. Life will and will and will. And one day we simply won’t. How do we counteract something with so much absolution?
My bright conclusion is that the way to conquer the depression in the things we will discover about tomorrow is to simply love more of what we can’t control today.
But after the climax, after we have settled into our grandly large or horribly small yearly incomes—after we’ve had a kid or two and managed to finally pay off our college debts—life will be a warm fall day instead of a bursting spring one. Because it is at the climax of our lives—when the hill we’ve been climbing our entire academic lives finally starts to level out—that the terrain of life is altered in a non expected way.
We will have conversations with friends who are dying from this or that. We will watch as our siblings who have somehow righted themselves from the waywardness of their youths fill up with one disease or one debt or one spouses horrible accident. And we will lament for them, for their crashing and burning world… but we will keep on. Because strangely enough life is summed up in these small grievances, but at the same time turns out to be much more impressive and worthy of our hope even after these mishaps. We will see worlds in other people, other things, in our children and the familiarity of how our houses squeak when we pad down the hall to the restroom. We will cradle the frailty of life in the crooks of our arms and shoulder burdens far too large for our backs and sometimes our wallets, just as they were too large for our parents’. And strangely enough, we will keep on keeping on.
And when we have turned over the graves of our parents, when we have become the elder in the lives of those around us, there will be no stopping the snowball effect of life. Life will push through our sickness, our age, our broken hips. Life will push through our rebellious children and dusty offices. Life will consume our resources and weedle into our joints to slow us down. Life will and will and will. And one day we simply won’t. How do we counteract something with so much absolution?
My bright conclusion is that the way to conquer the depression in the things we will discover about tomorrow is to simply love more of what we can’t control today.
Monday, September 15, 2008
shine light
Marianne Williamson said, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." That's only a snippet of her famously quoted text called, "You Are a Child of God." But the depth of that statement grabbed me by the heart strings when I first read it. I remember when I was a youngster in private school. There were always career days in grade school. Most innocently we all thought that we could be Buzz Lightyear or Symba from the Lion King. We picked those guys because they did remarkable things. I remember wanting to be a super hero. I kind of still do, but unlike back then I don't really have a hero. We live in a day age where everyone has the power to be whoever they want to be. We can be published writers and show the world our opinions but signing up for blogs. Where have all the hero's gone? Like MLK and Langston Hughes. Like CS Lewis and JF Kennedy? This is a day and age where we can truly shine, where we can live our dreams, we just have to go out and get them. Maybe someday we can be the heros that we lack today. Maybe if we try hard enough our kids will have heros."It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be: You are a child of God." I took that quote by Marianne Williamson and pinned it to my night stand. I want to remember to to shine.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Falling Slowly
Obama said,
“There are a whole bunch of folks in small towns in Pennsylvania, in towns right here in Indiana, in my home town in Illinois, who are bitter. They are angry… So I said, well ya know, when you’re bitter, you turn to what you can count on. So people, ya know they vote about guns or they take comfort from their faith, and their family, and their community, and they get mad about illegal immigrants who are coming over to this country, or they get frustrated about how things are changing. That’s a natural response.”
But these traditions that get passed on from generation to generation are important, he said.
“People don’t feel like they're being listened to," Obama said. "And so they pray and they count on each other and they count on their families. You know this in your own lives. And what we need is a government that is actually paying attention, a government that is actually fighting for working people day in and day out, making sure that we are trying to allow them to live out the American dream.”
We are bitter. Kenyans are bitter too. What are we to do about it? Should we just not have an opinion? Maybe if it's eating you up it's better to be neutral. We cling. We cling We clingWecling to religion and guns... and food and Harry Potter.
I think I'm starting to understand that novel by Cormac Mcarthy, "The Road." The world is a hopless place without someone to love in it.
"Take this sinking boat and point it home We've still got time Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice You've made it now Falling slowly sing your melody I'll sing along "-Glen Hansard
(I know. It's random)
“There are a whole bunch of folks in small towns in Pennsylvania, in towns right here in Indiana, in my home town in Illinois, who are bitter. They are angry… So I said, well ya know, when you’re bitter, you turn to what you can count on. So people, ya know they vote about guns or they take comfort from their faith, and their family, and their community, and they get mad about illegal immigrants who are coming over to this country, or they get frustrated about how things are changing. That’s a natural response.”
But these traditions that get passed on from generation to generation are important, he said.
“People don’t feel like they're being listened to," Obama said. "And so they pray and they count on each other and they count on their families. You know this in your own lives. And what we need is a government that is actually paying attention, a government that is actually fighting for working people day in and day out, making sure that we are trying to allow them to live out the American dream.”
We are bitter. Kenyans are bitter too. What are we to do about it? Should we just not have an opinion? Maybe if it's eating you up it's better to be neutral. We cling. We cling We clingWecling to religion and guns... and food and Harry Potter.
I think I'm starting to understand that novel by Cormac Mcarthy, "The Road." The world is a hopless place without someone to love in it.
"Take this sinking boat and point it home We've still got time Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice You've made it now Falling slowly sing your melody I'll sing along "-Glen Hansard
(I know. It's random)
Monday, July 21, 2008
Dreams in the Mirror
Ever had someone tell you you have to many emotions? Well someone told me and... I agree with them. I do have to many dang emotions. I need to think less and do more. Which is why I think I would rather go here than here. I'm hoping that these extra emotions will make for a better writer.
What's all this about? It's all a wicked plan I conjured up in my bed last night. Further investigation is needed, but the thought of living in Chicago rather than Berrien Springs... um, no contest! We will see... I won't get my hopes up just yet.
Dreams
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broekn-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
--Langston Hughes
A Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
--Langston Hughes
What's all this about? It's all a wicked plan I conjured up in my bed last night. Further investigation is needed, but the thought of living in Chicago rather than Berrien Springs... um, no contest! We will see... I won't get my hopes up just yet.
Dreams
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broekn-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
--Langston Hughes
A Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
--Langston Hughes
can this please make more sense
it's this whole thing about self that has me confused. if you are not happy and you don't know how to be happy, do you do more for yourself or for other people?
i've been here at the caucus for 3 weeks now, and i feel useless. i spend a lot of my time on the internet or writing my devotional. i'm greatful for the time to write, but i flew halfway around the world for this? on my mother's dollar? i'm angry because i feel a bit taken advantage of. what i imagined this internship to be and what it has turned out to be were two very different things. is that my fault? have i tried to make the most of it? or am i ungrateful and selfish? where does this stuff weigh out? stuff like this used to make sense to me. now i can't see heads or tales of any one situation. the damn zebras' all mesh together.
i guess i have to try harder to put myself aside. i have to accept that i'm not here to heal. i'm here for mom, for christine, for whatever God has in store for me. no more pity parties. i have to try a little harder, stand a little taller. help out more, give of myself just as Christ gave of himself. God help me to see the black and white, cuz all i see is gray.
i've been here at the caucus for 3 weeks now, and i feel useless. i spend a lot of my time on the internet or writing my devotional. i'm greatful for the time to write, but i flew halfway around the world for this? on my mother's dollar? i'm angry because i feel a bit taken advantage of. what i imagined this internship to be and what it has turned out to be were two very different things. is that my fault? have i tried to make the most of it? or am i ungrateful and selfish? where does this stuff weigh out? stuff like this used to make sense to me. now i can't see heads or tales of any one situation. the damn zebras' all mesh together.
i guess i have to try harder to put myself aside. i have to accept that i'm not here to heal. i'm here for mom, for christine, for whatever God has in store for me. no more pity parties. i have to try a little harder, stand a little taller. help out more, give of myself just as Christ gave of himself. God help me to see the black and white, cuz all i see is gray.
Friday, July 18, 2008
PIZZA!!
There are so many things I miss from home. Pizza is only one of them. Surprisingly there are no pizza and sub shops scattered at
every corner. What the heck to people eat here, you might ask? Oogali and greens. That's what they eat. And Chapati with beef.
Maybe some fish and chips. 
Roasted maze. Had 
enough of foreign food words?
Roasted maze. Had 
enough of foreign food words? 
Yes, well I'd had enough of foreign food.
SO! I devised a plan to make a pizza. Thing is there were some snags. Like we couldn't find pizza dough in the market so we had to improvize with biscuit batter. Hahaha. And... No tomatoe sauce, no spaghettie sauce. So I had to conjure up some Crystal Style Pizza Sauce. THEN! We didn't even have an oven. SO we put hot coles on a bowl and put the pizza on a pan under than bowl. About two hours later we had pizza! hahahahahhaaaa
Let me tell you it was the best frickin frackin pizza I've eaten in a long long time. *sigh... fragments of home.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
save the trees and kill the children
Today looking out at Nairobi I see poverty. It's not that I didn't see it when I first arrived. I saw, I was just overwhelmed by everything else I was seeing. Although the city is pulling up the frame work for a great democratic country, there are so many holes to be filled. That's just what I see as an American. Yet these working ants know some things that we Americans don't know. They seem to value friendships and family in ways that we have yet to discover. Or if we did know we've cut the strings linking us to the network of emotions that allowed us to think first with our hearts and then with our wallets. I can't say we are in the wrong. Is it my fault that I come from a consumer state? What I value is different than what these humble workers value. What I do in my leisure time are things Nairobians deem frivolous. "Save the money for something else," they've told me time and time again.
But today on our twice daily drive to work I didn't see the swarms of people walking to work as an army of stick people. I didn't see them as cattle meandering to their next destination. I saw fellow men, fighting tooth and nail for their version of the American dream. The Kenyan dream. My only prayer for them is that they get it right. Is it wrong for me to look back at the US, and scoff at how we allow our dependence on the security in the promise of tomorrow to shape our moods. I never saw it before but looking at myself from Kenya I think I live a very disillusioned life. All my tears over spilt milk are suddenly irrelevant here... These people truly live as God asked them to. "Don't worry about tomorrow, you have enough to think about today." Even those considered "upper middle class" have one foot inside the slums. I shake my head at my ignorant folly. I'm ashamed. But then again, how can I avoid it?
So today I see poverty. I also see that the world is horribly unfair. As Casting Crowns put it, I don't think there will be a day when we don't "save the trees and kill the children."
But today on our twice daily drive to work I didn't see the swarms of people walking to work as an army of stick people. I didn't see them as cattle meandering to their next destination. I saw fellow men, fighting tooth and nail for their version of the American dream. The Kenyan dream. My only prayer for them is that they get it right. Is it wrong for me to look back at the US, and scoff at how we allow our dependence on the security in the promise of tomorrow to shape our moods. I never saw it before but looking at myself from Kenya I think I live a very disillusioned life. All my tears over spilt milk are suddenly irrelevant here... These people truly live as God asked them to. "Don't worry about tomorrow, you have enough to think about today." Even those considered "upper middle class" have one foot inside the slums. I shake my head at my ignorant folly. I'm ashamed. But then again, how can I avoid it?
So today I see poverty. I also see that the world is horribly unfair. As Casting Crowns put it, I don't think there will be a day when we don't "save the trees and kill the children."
Thursday, July 10, 2008
nothing new is something new
A funny thing happened the other day. We were driving to work. you know the roads here are bad. Well in Nairobi they aren't so horrible. It's the drivers that are the crazy ones. So Peter is navigating his little red Toyota around matatu's (public transporation vans. Example to your left), cars pulling in front of him without signaling, and people walking in the middle of the road to hop into the still moving matatu's. All the sudden a biker swerves out of the way and we are coming up fast on a horse drawn cart loaded with vegetables. Except there's no horse (no horses in Kenya only something they call a ZeebDonk which is a mixed breed of half zebra half donkey. whatever anyway). Instead of a horse there is a skinny-as-sin man in floppy leather shoes and red pants that barely reach his ankles running up hill, clutching this two wheeled cart with the grip of death. he's running and behind there is another guy, equally as skinny in a half buttoned dress shirt pushing the vegetable cart from behind. The tales of his shirt flapping in the morning breeze. Peter slams on the breaks and casually whips the car into the right lane, cutting off a giant truck whose tale pipe is busy chugging black smoke at pedestrians walking on the median. I watch to my left as we speed past the two men and their veggie cart. The crazy thing is, none of this even registered as strange till about two minutes later. We were driving off the speedway onto the road leading to the Caucus when it struck me how nonchalantly I reacted to the traffic set up. Yes... in spite of all my cries for home I'm actually getting used to Kenya. Trash pits on the side of the road mean nothing to me. I think I'm starting to see past all the dirt and confusion. After nearly two weeks I see people, I see a civilization, I see a society thriving and flowing just like everything I've known in the US. Crazy right? I wonder what's next.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Badge of Honor
In this ever shrinking world the accent is a badge of honor. It says "yes I can participate in the universal currency of language, but when I go home I have a secret code common to only me and my countrymen."In my travels I have strained to hear past this badge of honor to hear traces of my native English more times than I can count. English comes in so many colorful influxes fashioned by so many lips, slung from the umlauts, diphthongs, and tongue clacking consonants that link the speaker back to all parts of the world.
Here I am proud to show my American accent. I walk up to a clerk and brandish my American English. Immediately the clerk knows I am traveling and my country is one of the wealthy ones. He knows Obama might be my next president. He knows I might not understand his vernacular, but save some repeated phrases communication is possible. And he knows that if no one is around to verify his lies he can screw me out of a couple hundred shillings (note: the exchange rate is 65 cents to 100 shillings). The theft is probably justified as vendor tax.
You come into a country and are immediately unarmed by your accent (sometimes your color), and you are forced to pay the tax of ignorance. You ask how much something costs or if the service is free. Your eyes say "tell me how this works, I'm new here." By your blank trusting look the vendor thinks, "I can see riches in my near future." Then he assures you that everything is fine. And if you can't spot a liar you will soon come to realize that the quiet ones are probably robbing you blind. The less they talk the more they are screwing you. I learned this about 2,000 shillings ago. But it's no skin off their nose. If it weren't for my damn "badge of honor" they wouldn't know my vast level of ignorance in the first place.
Here I am proud to show my American accent. I walk up to a clerk and brandish my American English. Immediately the clerk knows I am traveling and my country is one of the wealthy ones. He knows Obama might be my next president. He knows I might not understand his vernacular, but save some repeated phrases communication is possible. And he knows that if no one is around to verify his lies he can screw me out of a couple hundred shillings (note: the exchange rate is 65 cents to 100 shillings). The theft is probably justified as vendor tax.
You come into a country and are immediately unarmed by your accent (sometimes your color), and you are forced to pay the tax of ignorance. You ask how much something costs or if the service is free. Your eyes say "tell me how this works, I'm new here." By your blank trusting look the vendor thinks, "I can see riches in my near future." Then he assures you that everything is fine. And if you can't spot a liar you will soon come to realize that the quiet ones are probably robbing you blind. The less they talk the more they are screwing you. I learned this about 2,000 shillings ago. But it's no skin off their nose. If it weren't for my damn "badge of honor" they wouldn't know my vast level of ignorance in the first place.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Carnivore!
Thursday night we went out to a restaurant on the edge of the Nairobi National Park called Carnivore. The name speaks for itself. The facilities are huge including over 300 person seating, in numerous open rooms, a landing leading out into the bare naked forests, and a disco dance room surrounded by more tables and chairs. In the center of this vast establishment is the grilling pit attended by 8-15 Cooke's and servers who randomly come and go.While they are busy grilling whole carcasses waiters wonder in and around the pit with swords staked through ready grilled meats. This fleshy feast consists of any poachable beast under the African sun. Amongst Carnivore's finest delicacies are Ostrich meatballs, Gator steak, lamb, chicken, beef, pork... and a much more.
Faith Despite the Negative
Today I actually broke down and checked my flight itinerary on BritishAirways.com. I came into the office in near tears. And when they finally broke free and poured down my face I thought I couldn't take the loneliness anymore. If my mother hadn't called offering gifts of support from family and friends at home the floodgate of tears would have happened so much sooner. I think it's all due to the fact that I've pissed away my second weekend in Kenya and still have no extravagant experiences to show for it. In short, I'm bored. I'm also not entirely healed from my semester of stress and pain. It's a good thing I brought my extra Bible to the office or I would have cried all afternoon. I was clicking through my flight details to figure out if I could leave early. I think I can deal with the loneliness, it's just the lack of adventure that is whittling away at my sanity. I realize that I'm sacrificing a lot for this Kenya trip and nothing seems to be coming of it. Nothing so far. God is bigger, I know, but when I think about it this trip puts me in the negative.
1. Because of my time here I won't get to go to Italy--not enough $ and not enough time (Italy was the BIGGEST reason why I wanted to go to the UK in the first place...)
2. It doesn't seem to be that Kenyans are in the proper financial state to purchase Cd's-- I need to pay for that brand spankin new laptop I got
3. I have an unquenchable desire to explore but my benefactors are so busy, there is little time to do anything but sit in the house.
Now, these are my issues and I need God to work them out. I just don't have the brain power or the strength.
One thing good that is coming of all this is that I am finding time and information to write my devotional. Waking up early and getting into the office is proving very lucrative for my thought process. And I finally found a place to run. Although it's a stretch to say that I will be ready for my marathon. *sigh... God is Bigger
1. Because of my time here I won't get to go to Italy--not enough $ and not enough time (Italy was the BIGGEST reason why I wanted to go to the UK in the first place...)
2. It doesn't seem to be that Kenyans are in the proper financial state to purchase Cd's-- I need to pay for that brand spankin new laptop I got
3. I have an unquenchable desire to explore but my benefactors are so busy, there is little time to do anything but sit in the house.
Now, these are my issues and I need God to work them out. I just don't have the brain power or the strength.
One thing good that is coming of all this is that I am finding time and information to write my devotional. Waking up early and getting into the office is proving very lucrative for my thought process. And I finally found a place to run. Although it's a stretch to say that I will be ready for my marathon. *sigh... God is Bigger
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Let those who have ears
I walked into the Kenyan equivalency of Wal*Mart to find a hair dryer. While browsing the isles of hair products and nick-knacks a familiar song began to play over the loud speaker. Before long I was unconsciously humming along to the tune of Kirk Franklin, “Without You.” And when the realization struck me that I was singing a Christ centered song in a public shopping center, I was struck dumb in song and stance. I even felt uncomfortable to be showing my love for God in front of so many others. It was both welcoming and shaming. I asked myself, “Does God belong here? How dare they bring Him into this common marketplace.” And then with the same passion I caught myself thinking, “how come we don’t play music like this in public in the US?” Honestly friends, when did we become as private with our God as we are with our love relationships? How dare we lock him out… Since when did I separate my worship from my daily life? It’s a disturbing thought, aye?
Wake me up for this service
It is strange that I have spent my entire life worshipping and praising my God in heaven, only to come to Kenya to learn what true worship is. In the absence of guitars and lighting I have found a group of people so set on praise that what they don’t have is much less then what they do have. Their overhead projector is wanting. The church rafters are planks of lumber. But it is not with the building they worship. No, these things are merely varnishes at the real meal. They worship with their entire hearts. In comparison to this absolute worship America has fallen away from glory. At home, for a church to qualify as a good place of worship it must be able to draw members with comfort, with technology, and a perfect pristine atmosphere. But the Bible says “that where two or three are gathered in My Name, there I am also.” Well here, in the near outdoors of Kenya (Sabbath school was on chairs in gravel parking lot) more than just three people have gathered. I sit in a sea of hundreds of swaying, singing Kenyans, who worship whole hearted and unabashedly. We praise Him knowing he is basking in this divine atmosphere. It is truly an honor to be here.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Individuality
Horah I'm in Kenya. There is so much to do and so much to see. *sigh.
Right now I'm sitting in my office (yes it's a real office with 4 walls, a desk, AND a window) on my first day of internship at the Caucus for Women's Leadership. For more information go to kwpcaucus.org. I will be doing a lot of reading and writing while I'm here. Excited mostly because it will be hands on learning. Not only that but it's great experience.
I flew in on Friday night. The plane ride was long. 8 hours is the same no matter how comfortable your seat is. But I arrived safely into the hands of my hosts. When I got into bed that night the one thing that kept replaying in the corners of my mind was "I am alone, completely alone, with strangers." The Ochola's are related to friends back in the US. I feel so welcome, but the comforts and familiarity of home are all gone. What can I do but put myself out on a limb? I am learning to trust in people as well as trust in myself. I'm finding that in my 23 years of friends, family, and aquaintances, there are worlds of relationships I have not yet explored. Business as well as friendships alike. And in these new cultures I'm discovering that I can survive without familiarity. Being a part of this culture, partaking in conversation and seeing how life is run has given me the opportunity to look back at my own culture. I am an outsider to what is familiar now. It's hard to understand exactly what you want when you're in the thick of it. Leaving the US and all that I knew, I feel as if I've stepped out of a pool and am now wading in someone elses puddle. But this new perspective has allowed for shingles to fall from my eyes.
And while I look I can see the things that I was trying to gain at home. At school I felt as if I was spinning my wheels in water, plunging into the exercise but getting no results. Now I feel that I can weed out what was holding me back and move in a new direction, unencumbered by the spinning wheel factor. And I realize that I don't exactly need those things. There is a huge division between culture and necessity. One man's shame is another mans glory. In this way I can truly look at myself, now that I have been stripped bare of culture and duty, and decide independently what armor I want to acquire, what position I want to take, and what person I want to be.
Right now I'm sitting in my office (yes it's a real office with 4 walls, a desk, AND a window) on my first day of internship at the Caucus for Women's Leadership. For more information go to kwpcaucus.org. I will be doing a lot of reading and writing while I'm here. Excited mostly because it will be hands on learning. Not only that but it's great experience.
I flew in on Friday night. The plane ride was long. 8 hours is the same no matter how comfortable your seat is. But I arrived safely into the hands of my hosts. When I got into bed that night the one thing that kept replaying in the corners of my mind was "I am alone, completely alone, with strangers." The Ochola's are related to friends back in the US. I feel so welcome, but the comforts and familiarity of home are all gone. What can I do but put myself out on a limb? I am learning to trust in people as well as trust in myself. I'm finding that in my 23 years of friends, family, and aquaintances, there are worlds of relationships I have not yet explored. Business as well as friendships alike. And in these new cultures I'm discovering that I can survive without familiarity. Being a part of this culture, partaking in conversation and seeing how life is run has given me the opportunity to look back at my own culture. I am an outsider to what is familiar now. It's hard to understand exactly what you want when you're in the thick of it. Leaving the US and all that I knew, I feel as if I've stepped out of a pool and am now wading in someone elses puddle. But this new perspective has allowed for shingles to fall from my eyes.
And while I look I can see the things that I was trying to gain at home. At school I felt as if I was spinning my wheels in water, plunging into the exercise but getting no results. Now I feel that I can weed out what was holding me back and move in a new direction, unencumbered by the spinning wheel factor. And I realize that I don't exactly need those things. There is a huge division between culture and necessity. One man's shame is another mans glory. In this way I can truly look at myself, now that I have been stripped bare of culture and duty, and decide independently what armor I want to acquire, what position I want to take, and what person I want to be.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
just leafing through
sometimes the wind blows you and you just go. why? because there's nothing else to do. i like being in control of things. but this summer i have no power over anything. normally it would frustrate me, that i know so little about my immediate future, but right now i figure that if God got me here, he's going to push me through some open door right?
there's nothing wrong, exactly. it's just that everything i planned this summer in some way is happening, just not in the order i wanted it to... that and i'm not the one orchestrating it. it's like my life is being fed to me one flavor packed morsel at a time. and between these influxes of information and willingness to DO, i get to dilly dally, write my book(s), read, watch movies... and if i'm lucky go on random adventures across europe. hahaha... my God is a random God. and thus my life is a random life.
there's nothing wrong, exactly. it's just that everything i planned this summer in some way is happening, just not in the order i wanted it to... that and i'm not the one orchestrating it. it's like my life is being fed to me one flavor packed morsel at a time. and between these influxes of information and willingness to DO, i get to dilly dally, write my book(s), read, watch movies... and if i'm lucky go on random adventures across europe. hahaha... my God is a random God. and thus my life is a random life.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
"Oh I'll just jot it down," say the English
Good news, Goood news. I finished the story board for The GateKeepers. Bad news is I seem to have lost one of my notebooks that is chocker block full of GateKeeper secrets and notes. But whatever. So I've finished the story board and now, besides printing some notes on characters and symbolic meanings, all that's left is to get started writing/ sifting through my rough draft and deciding on what I can salvage of the first six chapters. Writing a novel is a process that I didn't plan on picking my way through when I first dreamed up The GateKeepers. I've been dreaming it up for months and only now am I settling in to WRITE it all... but the process is good. It's even fun. So as mom would say "believe in the process." And as my cousin Sara would say, "picture the outcome, know that it will happen, and then just do it!" I believe in me. I really do.
Not London, but England
I'm in London, been here for the past 3 days. I'm settling into the family warmly. Haha. THeir is no danger, they seem to be accepting me as their own (as if they were a pack of wolves or something). But really, my family here is great to me. I believe that I will have a great time. I just have to be willing to look for my own adventures. Mostly I've spent my days drinking tea and writing. Haha, what is more English than that? Yesterday they took me to an English village. All the buildings are wicked old but in perfectly good use. School kids were darting all over the place in their various uniforms. And when we found a shop to settle down for tea in, it appeared that the whole town had the same idea at the same time. Ha, it was truly fabulous.
Upon arrival I soon discovered that my family's daily routine consisted of crouching over a keyboard, and staring fervently into it's screen. Their all computer techs (which helps cuz my computer is dying). And they all work at home, which means I only have to venture to another room for some good conversation. Ha.. What I did need was my own work space. And I found it. How surprising is it that it was the kitchen table. Funny? Well the table tips to the left whenever I lean over it, there's a window, and it's right by the tea drinkers traffic, but it's all mine. What more could a writer want? Now... I just need to forget about my lazy comforts at home and get on with the writing! Aha!
Upon arrival I soon discovered that my family's daily routine consisted of crouching over a keyboard, and staring fervently into it's screen. Their all computer techs (which helps cuz my computer is dying). And they all work at home, which means I only have to venture to another room for some good conversation. Ha.. What I did need was my own work space. And I found it. How surprising is it that it was the kitchen table. Funny? Well the table tips to the left whenever I lean over it, there's a window, and it's right by the tea drinkers traffic, but it's all mine. What more could a writer want? Now... I just need to forget about my lazy comforts at home and get on with the writing! Aha!
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
and he told me to drink
All this time I have been standing in front of a crack in a rock surrounded by sweltering dessert. And I’m begging for the trickle of water that slips from between the boulders to be at least a weak willed stream.
Be ye careful what you wish for.
Maybe it’s the object I’m looking at. Maybe it’s the source and not my inability to believe hard enough that God wants me to have the water. Because all it takes is my shoulders to slacken down in submission for the ground to start shaking in this wasteland.
I can feel the tremors of this dessert floor. I can see the crack lines along this natural fault. I can hear from my standing position a roar of water so faint it teases my parched spit glands. And I fear with any sudden move the ground will split and swallow me whole, sending my parched and sun bloated body between the mounds of broken earth and into the crashing waves below. I yearn to be carried off in that current. Like a sign from God, letting my body yearn like that in complete submission to His will is all it takes for my fear to turn into courage, for the ground to slip out from under me, for the water to ravage and consume me.
Be ye careful what you wish for.
Maybe it’s the object I’m looking at. Maybe it’s the source and not my inability to believe hard enough that God wants me to have the water. Because all it takes is my shoulders to slacken down in submission for the ground to start shaking in this wasteland.
I can feel the tremors of this dessert floor. I can see the crack lines along this natural fault. I can hear from my standing position a roar of water so faint it teases my parched spit glands. And I fear with any sudden move the ground will split and swallow me whole, sending my parched and sun bloated body between the mounds of broken earth and into the crashing waves below. I yearn to be carried off in that current. Like a sign from God, letting my body yearn like that in complete submission to His will is all it takes for my fear to turn into courage, for the ground to slip out from under me, for the water to ravage and consume me.
Life-sicles
Life is so much bigger than the plate that Andrews hands it to me on. When I am there I feel as if my vision is obscured and everything they give me and tell me is somehow OK. But when I am free of that pin holed perspective I can feel the magnitude of life. I can sense it like a hunter knows the presence of its pray. I want life. I want all of it. And I want it as big and as roaring as I can get it.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Strapped
Inside there is a war over my soul. It sounds melodramatic but I can feel the battle being fought in my subconscious. I'm often thrown into deeply disturbed moods. When I am there my body is next to immobile. It's as if all my energy is so consumed by these mental fits of rage that I can't control myself. These are short depressions that leave me stained with frustration. I can't seem to work it out. In my mind I am arguing about simple things, fundamental principles to my beliefs and even the way the world works. Yes, I am annoyed with school, I have questions about the church, but that has never put my day at such a dark stand still that I feel as if I couldn't continue. I've been thinking about it, and praying, and the only way I can ever get out of my mental arrest is through prayer or sleep. Whatever it is, the battle belongs to the Lord. This too shall pass.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
It's a bit sappy, but what the heck
This morning I met Jesus at the beach. There he was riding up to greet me on the frizzy seems of the waves. So I sat barefoot hugging my knees, my sandals wedged under my butt, and watched him come. He soaked right into the sand and shells at the tips of my feet. I dug my toes deep into the beach to catch the traces of his salty oceanness. And then with a sigh I was overcome. “My God is beautiful,” I thought. I knew it so hard, so truthfully right then.
To my right my footsteps were disappearing into the soft surf from where I had walked from the hotel. The lawn chairs, tikki huts, and sky scraping hotels, grated roughly against the natural serenity I had ventured into at my spot by the rocks. But I knew my God had been here first, and would be here last. Again, I knew this so hard it quaked a shiver over my sun warmed shoulders. And I knew His love was the sun and His energy made manifest around me in the crisp morning light was his perfect way of spending time with me. Then he did the softest thing. He came right up and hugged me, starting out by my ankles, working his way along the lightly forested plains of my arms, into my sleeves and swooping up to plant nice salt spackled kisses along my hairline and face. He was so warm, so cool—all at once my sun ray and windy breeze. Sometimes when you forget yourself you become so happy it radiates from the pours of your skin. When I think about coming into that feeling of bliss I get the picture of walking out into an endless meadow of flowers after treading bare foot on a dusty rock ridden path. I’m almost too scared to let my bruised feet walk far into spongy meadow for fear that it will turn back into rocky path before my aching feet have regained their strength. It scares me a bit, as if I’m on the edge of happiness, as if I’ve stumbled across something so rare, so frail it could crumble into itself and disappear at any moment. That’s how I felt sitting there, God playing with my hair and over my tanned skin. I felt like our meeting there was far too rare to ever believe it could just keep on going after the tourists and merchants had arrived to ripen the beach into a trashy, sugar coated version if itself.
The sound of a squawking bird shot through my ears, making me look up from the scab over my fears I had been picking at. It was God grabbing my arm and pulling me farther into that meadow. I followed him willingly. All the while he was saying “Let me show you where else I am. Let me show you how far you can truly walk in this meadow.” My eyes were opened again to his beauty. My shadow a testament to the dawning day, faded softly into the morning. Two coke cans sat like towers on the pebbly shore. A forest of boulders cascaded into the ocean to my left. And there I sat, snug between night time and morning. There I knew he wanted more than just my temporary praise. “If you want me to come everywhere with you, you have to let me inside. You need to let me come along.” I bowed my head to him. But it wasn’t enough. He knew I was hiding. He saw before I could say that there were so many things wedged into that gap that he wanted to fill. Piece by piece he eyed those sensitive parts. He was there and I was there and I couldn’t hide my shame from him. And then I saw my own stupidity wash up like my old dirty laundry onto the shore. Those temporary issues I thought I was fretting over really had nothing to do with anything but my own inability to fix the gap in my soul. One by one he pulled the mess out of me until my heart was an open vessel, a whole and empty cistern waiting to be filled up with all of him and only him. By this time that grassy flower filled plain had grown so big and needy. Then it was just me loosing myself in his presence, falling into the endless plain of him feet first, running in and around and all over it. And I began to know that I would exhaust myself before I exhausted the bliss of that field.
Our conversation, his heart to my heart only rose and fell with the gravity of the oceans waves, rising and falling on themselves and then eating away at both sand and sea life, then spewing back onto the shore, back into itself. And I met him there. I met him in the sky, the mountain lines smug behind the morning mist. The palm trees reaching high into the sky saying “I see you sun and I welcome you today.” I met him in the crevasses of the large sloping rocks. Like giants curled over examining the seaweed and black creepy crabs on each others backs. He stretched out with one arm across the oceans treading wake. And again I thought I couldn’t follow him there. He didn’t care what I thought but brought me out anyway to see how big he really was. I saw his name written in the meeting and separation of the sky and waters. “I Am,” it read in what I was sure was his best cursive. “I Am,” repeated the seagulls as they sailed by the cotton ball clouds, only affirming what I had seemed to miss only moments before. “I Am,” came the echo of the wind lunging like an athlete from mountain to plain to ditch and skidding across the top of the ocean. “I Am,” it finally squeaked from the hinges of my open heart, and began to fill my gaps with spaces of divinity. And I knew him, right there on the simplicity of the beach, on the outskirts of the shoreline in Mexico. And I knew with the severity of a Father loving alike the mistakes and good deeds of his child that He, The Great I Am, could never leave me because he is in me. He is wrapped around my world so tight, so through and through that he can’t leave me. And he won’t even try to.
To my right my footsteps were disappearing into the soft surf from where I had walked from the hotel. The lawn chairs, tikki huts, and sky scraping hotels, grated roughly against the natural serenity I had ventured into at my spot by the rocks. But I knew my God had been here first, and would be here last. Again, I knew this so hard it quaked a shiver over my sun warmed shoulders. And I knew His love was the sun and His energy made manifest around me in the crisp morning light was his perfect way of spending time with me. Then he did the softest thing. He came right up and hugged me, starting out by my ankles, working his way along the lightly forested plains of my arms, into my sleeves and swooping up to plant nice salt spackled kisses along my hairline and face. He was so warm, so cool—all at once my sun ray and windy breeze. Sometimes when you forget yourself you become so happy it radiates from the pours of your skin. When I think about coming into that feeling of bliss I get the picture of walking out into an endless meadow of flowers after treading bare foot on a dusty rock ridden path. I’m almost too scared to let my bruised feet walk far into spongy meadow for fear that it will turn back into rocky path before my aching feet have regained their strength. It scares me a bit, as if I’m on the edge of happiness, as if I’ve stumbled across something so rare, so frail it could crumble into itself and disappear at any moment. That’s how I felt sitting there, God playing with my hair and over my tanned skin. I felt like our meeting there was far too rare to ever believe it could just keep on going after the tourists and merchants had arrived to ripen the beach into a trashy, sugar coated version if itself.
The sound of a squawking bird shot through my ears, making me look up from the scab over my fears I had been picking at. It was God grabbing my arm and pulling me farther into that meadow. I followed him willingly. All the while he was saying “Let me show you where else I am. Let me show you how far you can truly walk in this meadow.” My eyes were opened again to his beauty. My shadow a testament to the dawning day, faded softly into the morning. Two coke cans sat like towers on the pebbly shore. A forest of boulders cascaded into the ocean to my left. And there I sat, snug between night time and morning. There I knew he wanted more than just my temporary praise. “If you want me to come everywhere with you, you have to let me inside. You need to let me come along.” I bowed my head to him. But it wasn’t enough. He knew I was hiding. He saw before I could say that there were so many things wedged into that gap that he wanted to fill. Piece by piece he eyed those sensitive parts. He was there and I was there and I couldn’t hide my shame from him. And then I saw my own stupidity wash up like my old dirty laundry onto the shore. Those temporary issues I thought I was fretting over really had nothing to do with anything but my own inability to fix the gap in my soul. One by one he pulled the mess out of me until my heart was an open vessel, a whole and empty cistern waiting to be filled up with all of him and only him. By this time that grassy flower filled plain had grown so big and needy. Then it was just me loosing myself in his presence, falling into the endless plain of him feet first, running in and around and all over it. And I began to know that I would exhaust myself before I exhausted the bliss of that field.
Our conversation, his heart to my heart only rose and fell with the gravity of the oceans waves, rising and falling on themselves and then eating away at both sand and sea life, then spewing back onto the shore, back into itself. And I met him there. I met him in the sky, the mountain lines smug behind the morning mist. The palm trees reaching high into the sky saying “I see you sun and I welcome you today.” I met him in the crevasses of the large sloping rocks. Like giants curled over examining the seaweed and black creepy crabs on each others backs. He stretched out with one arm across the oceans treading wake. And again I thought I couldn’t follow him there. He didn’t care what I thought but brought me out anyway to see how big he really was. I saw his name written in the meeting and separation of the sky and waters. “I Am,” it read in what I was sure was his best cursive. “I Am,” repeated the seagulls as they sailed by the cotton ball clouds, only affirming what I had seemed to miss only moments before. “I Am,” came the echo of the wind lunging like an athlete from mountain to plain to ditch and skidding across the top of the ocean. “I Am,” it finally squeaked from the hinges of my open heart, and began to fill my gaps with spaces of divinity. And I knew him, right there on the simplicity of the beach, on the outskirts of the shoreline in Mexico. And I knew with the severity of a Father loving alike the mistakes and good deeds of his child that He, The Great I Am, could never leave me because he is in me. He is wrapped around my world so tight, so through and through that he can’t leave me. And he won’t even try to.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Michigan, let me go!
I'm going to Mexico yall! Freedom is mine! This morning I wrote my Lit test on Romantic poetry. Afterwords I went home and started tearing over a bowl of Kashi. AH! The day is finally here. My limbs are extatic, all I want to do is roll up and down the hallways giggling. *sigh. Up until that test I felt as if Berrien Springs were clinging to me like vines. Wrapped around my torso and shoulders I was fighting for breath and freedom. I feel as if nothing can touch me now. And if it weren't for the mud tracks I leave behind on the carpets from class to class I could swear that I'm floating on air. I'm still on the go till 8:30 tonight. I have 3 more papers to write today, but truely, nothing can touch me now. Don't miss me too hard yall. When I come back I'll be sun tanned with a wiff of ocean on my golden skin.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Lap Countdown
Oh yeah, pardon my ranting bellow but I just realized that something wicked awesome happened today. This morning, bright and 8:30 early, I ran 3 miles! YUP! Woke up and went running. I'm used to two miles on a treadmill so running an extra mile around the track was so different. But goodness, I loved the mental shove of those last 4 laps; using my mind to push my body further than it thinks it can go. This is a new discovery for me! HORAH! Gotta prepare for that half marathon. Did I get the runners high? I think so. My calves ache with the fire of a thousand suns but it was totally worth it. I'm ready to do it again!
Help me, I'm melting
So stressed right now. Almost broke down in tears. I'm going to Mexico next week. Of course I'm excited but it sure is throwing a wrench in my semester. So much is due! So little time to do it in. And silly me, I took on another time consuming job. Gotta pay those bills though. *sigh... Dear Jesus, please get me through this week and the week after Mexico. Hell, please get me through the rest of the semester. I'm dying here...
Thursday, March 20, 2008
13 Miles
I've decided I'm gonna run a half marathon October 12th, 2008. At THE CHICAGO MARATHON! DUN DUN DUUUUUN!
Wish me Luck
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Venting!
It seems like writing a book is so much more than writing a book. I guess it could be compared to making paper snowflakes. You can't start with a snowflake and build it out of scraps. What you have to do is get a whole sheet of paper, fold it up, and cut out what you don't want. Then and ONLY then do you have anything that resembles a snowflake.
Just like this dang book. I have to write and write and write... Just fiction. Stories on the gatekeepers, on the land, on the meaning of the story, on this on that. Not that I'm complaining. I love it! I just wish I could write the story part. That's my favorite part! ahahaa...
A great way to describe it is like rehearsing a grand piece of music that you are going to perform. You definitely make a lot of music in practice, for hours and hours. But all of that practice is wasted music. Nobody hears it or wants to hear it because its full of bad notes and a broken story that doesn't make sense. What people want is the full performance. The grand finale. The part that is perfect and pristine...
But what if music wasn't as fluid as it is now. What if when you made music it stayed in the room. I'm saying what if it were tangible. Well then all that practice would be made and floating around a room! And it would be worthless! And then you'd have to go and do something with it. Maybe even be tempted to salvage some of those bad notes and put it into your finished product simply because you were attached to the idea of them. But nobody wants the practice because it's useless! aaahhh! Writing a book is really writing 5 books and then trimming the fat until it is one book. go figure.
Once again, I love doing it. Heck I wouldn't be doing it if I wasn't, but it just takes so much time! Time to figure out what you are saying and where it's going. Time to come up with a world of creativity that people can follow logically. This is so much fun, I just wish it was a quicker process... But then again, marinade is good. Marinade is really good. Let it simmer... in it's juices, and it will be really REALLY GOOD. Know this!
Just like this dang book. I have to write and write and write... Just fiction. Stories on the gatekeepers, on the land, on the meaning of the story, on this on that. Not that I'm complaining. I love it! I just wish I could write the story part. That's my favorite part! ahahaa...
A great way to describe it is like rehearsing a grand piece of music that you are going to perform. You definitely make a lot of music in practice, for hours and hours. But all of that practice is wasted music. Nobody hears it or wants to hear it because its full of bad notes and a broken story that doesn't make sense. What people want is the full performance. The grand finale. The part that is perfect and pristine...
But what if music wasn't as fluid as it is now. What if when you made music it stayed in the room. I'm saying what if it were tangible. Well then all that practice would be made and floating around a room! And it would be worthless! And then you'd have to go and do something with it. Maybe even be tempted to salvage some of those bad notes and put it into your finished product simply because you were attached to the idea of them. But nobody wants the practice because it's useless! aaahhh! Writing a book is really writing 5 books and then trimming the fat until it is one book. go figure.
Once again, I love doing it. Heck I wouldn't be doing it if I wasn't, but it just takes so much time! Time to figure out what you are saying and where it's going. Time to come up with a world of creativity that people can follow logically. This is so much fun, I just wish it was a quicker process... But then again, marinade is good. Marinade is really good. Let it simmer... in it's juices, and it will be really REALLY GOOD. Know this!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
www.GrownSmall@blogspot.com
I have a New Blog yall! But it's not just for me. See I've been writing this book "The GateKeepers." It's really a fantstical book. But upon its first rough read with some truely worthy critics I discovered (through there seemingly correct proddings) that the main character was a lot like me. Can I be more vain than to write (a soon to be blockbuster) fictional story centered around my own psyche, past, and present? GOODNESS!
I don't want that. Not even a little. Suri is of her own, she is what I write her to be. And although writers of fiction often syphon details from their own lives to add texture to their works, I have decided to prune off some parts of her character and past. Adding others of course, but the whole surgery is to extract that which relates her to me.
But what to do with this other side of expressivity I obviously need to develop. Subconsciously I needed a way to get these feelings out, to type them and see them in story from. But what now that I have changed parts of Suri? Well the answer is I started a new BLOG!
You can go to it. RIGHT NOW. at www.grownsmall.blogspot.com
It's for everyone who has ever had something to talk about but no desire to ever talk about it. It's all secret and what not, so write something if you will, about your human experience.
The password is redballoon and don't forget to come up with a pseudo name.
Blessings yall! Happy blogging!
I don't want that. Not even a little. Suri is of her own, she is what I write her to be. And although writers of fiction often syphon details from their own lives to add texture to their works, I have decided to prune off some parts of her character and past. Adding others of course, but the whole surgery is to extract that which relates her to me.
But what to do with this other side of expressivity I obviously need to develop. Subconsciously I needed a way to get these feelings out, to type them and see them in story from. But what now that I have changed parts of Suri? Well the answer is I started a new BLOG!
You can go to it. RIGHT NOW. at www.grownsmall.blogspot.com
It's for everyone who has ever had something to talk about but no desire to ever talk about it. It's all secret and what not, so write something if you will, about your human experience.
The password is redballoon and don't forget to come up with a pseudo name.
Blessings yall! Happy blogging!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
And so on
I have been working out for a while but I havn't been running. Today I attempted my easy 1.5 mile jog around campus. News for me when it wasn't so easy. I even had to stop and walk. WHAT THE NESS! Good news is I've been working out other ways, walking, swimming, weight lifting. All in all my body looks exactly the same. Haha, go figure. Ah, well, we can't have it all...
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
If I Were A Boy
Sometimes I wish I were more of a boy. Boys are so easily detached from the things they do. I'm finding more and more how often I have to mentally stop and remind myself that I can't be attached to something emotionally. It's a bit much to always have to be checking yourself. But on the other hand, great writers are those who have a come to an agreement with their emotions and can attach and detach for some fine mingled writing... Someday. Someday that'll be me. Just not today.
Monday, October 1, 2007
My Poor Babies
It's been a while since I've been here! MAN I miss it. I don't even know where to begin. If I just post a blog like I did a month ago it will feel artificial because it has been so long. But if I rattle on like this maybe it will make the transition back into blogging easier. Maybe....
Last night the Eagles LOST. We were sacked a total of 12 times. I could say that all of our best players were on the sidelines with injuries... but truthfully I don't think it would have mattered. We were slaughtered. And now the Eagles will take their BYE week and hopefully put it to some good use with some skill rejuvenation. It's looking like a bad season regardless... The bottom of the totum pole. Ho Hum. Life goes on...
Last night the Eagles LOST. We were sacked a total of 12 times. I could say that all of our best players were on the sidelines with injuries... but truthfully I don't think it would have mattered. We were slaughtered. And now the Eagles will take their BYE week and hopefully put it to some good use with some skill rejuvenation. It's looking like a bad season regardless... The bottom of the totum pole. Ho Hum. Life goes on...
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Ten Prayers God Always Says Yes To:
Anthony DeStephano writes about the conception process. When you were made there were about half a billion other possibilities of humans that could have come into being (ahem, sperm). And in this slim space of time that is allotted to conceive, that one sperm found that one egg and created you. How slim the chance that any of us are alive! And so he writes...
"From a strictly statistical point of view, your presence on this planet is a miracle. At the very dawn of your life you had to overcome overwhelming odds--odds higher than any you will ever have to face in any other situation. No matter what you may think of yourself now, you are already an "overachiever" of the highest caliber... No matter what ills may befall you in life, no matter what suffering you may be forced to endure, no matter what family or money problems you may eventually have to face, it is imperative that you understand this: You came into this world as a champion. Victory was your starting point." (167, 178)
Today Pastor Dwight Nelsons sermon touched me as it has never done before. Actually the whole service was a significantly powerful, spiritual event. It seemed to be that every person was praising, worshiping and giving of themselves wholehearted and freely. But what struck me the most was what Pastor Nelson seemed to be saying. He spoke to us all, as a whole, about this very subject. About how each of us is chosen to be here. Special, unique, and in a way Champions. Because I sang with the choir I had the opportunity of being on stage. Looking out upon all those listening and attentive faces it was as if we were coming to a realization about race, about position, about status, popularity, and personal success. We are all created equal. We are all here to pursue our individual Divine destiny. Chosen, if you will, to live in this fallen world. Chosen to have choice! The truth in this realization is astounding. Andrews University prides itself on our multicultural campus. We are exquisitely diverse and sometimes saddeningly segregated. Oh what we could do if we were to come together as we do in church, with the powerful act of fellowship. How else are we to conquer our given territory if we do not band together? "A chord of three is not quickly broken." And each of us, given our divine tasks has a destiny to accomplish. We are chosen, and we, each of us, is meant to be here. The message is simple. Beautiful. True.
Here are some quoted texts from the sermon.
"The LORD your God has chosen you." Deuteronomy 7:6-9
"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you; Before you were born, I set you apart." Jeremiah 1:5
"For it pleased God in his kindness to choose me and call me, even before I was born!" Galatians 1:15
"YOu made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb... You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day has passed." Psalm 139:13,16
"As surely as John the Baptist and the Lord Jesus was born with a divine destiny, so were you! Not the same destiny but the same divine chooser who chose you to become the chosen."
-Dwight Nelson
"From a strictly statistical point of view, your presence on this planet is a miracle. At the very dawn of your life you had to overcome overwhelming odds--odds higher than any you will ever have to face in any other situation. No matter what you may think of yourself now, you are already an "overachiever" of the highest caliber... No matter what ills may befall you in life, no matter what suffering you may be forced to endure, no matter what family or money problems you may eventually have to face, it is imperative that you understand this: You came into this world as a champion. Victory was your starting point." (167, 178)
Today Pastor Dwight Nelsons sermon touched me as it has never done before. Actually the whole service was a significantly powerful, spiritual event. It seemed to be that every person was praising, worshiping and giving of themselves wholehearted and freely. But what struck me the most was what Pastor Nelson seemed to be saying. He spoke to us all, as a whole, about this very subject. About how each of us is chosen to be here. Special, unique, and in a way Champions. Because I sang with the choir I had the opportunity of being on stage. Looking out upon all those listening and attentive faces it was as if we were coming to a realization about race, about position, about status, popularity, and personal success. We are all created equal. We are all here to pursue our individual Divine destiny. Chosen, if you will, to live in this fallen world. Chosen to have choice! The truth in this realization is astounding. Andrews University prides itself on our multicultural campus. We are exquisitely diverse and sometimes saddeningly segregated. Oh what we could do if we were to come together as we do in church, with the powerful act of fellowship. How else are we to conquer our given territory if we do not band together? "A chord of three is not quickly broken." And each of us, given our divine tasks has a destiny to accomplish. We are chosen, and we, each of us, is meant to be here. The message is simple. Beautiful. True.
Here are some quoted texts from the sermon.
"The LORD your God has chosen you." Deuteronomy 7:6-9
"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you; Before you were born, I set you apart." Jeremiah 1:5
"For it pleased God in his kindness to choose me and call me, even before I was born!" Galatians 1:15
"YOu made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb... You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day has passed." Psalm 139:13,16
"As surely as John the Baptist and the Lord Jesus was born with a divine destiny, so were you! Not the same destiny but the same divine chooser who chose you to become the chosen."
-Dwight Nelson
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Faith Like Popeye
I'm at AU now. Ali and I journeyed here from PA last Wednesday. After all I went through trying to get my car fixed, packed and on the road I didn't think anything else could go wrong. Once we cleared my home town my goodbyes were done and as far as I was concerned I was at AU. But not so. About three hours into our ten hour drive my car started making crazy weird noises. I swerved from the far left lane over to the shoulder on the right (without taking anyone down with me). I slightly remembered hearing my car thud over something moments before the sound. Before I even got out of my car to look at my rear tire I knew. I even started praying that it wasn't true. It always turns out that you are paranoid about something like a flat tire, but then when you finally get one you realize how truly screwed you are! I had a flat tire. It was completely flat. Like.... dead flat. And not an island of homeland near by. I think that was the worst part, knowing that I was not in my safety net bubble of home/mom/puppy or AU. AKA free falling in the boondies of PA. 
So I panicked. Called mom, realized there was little she could do for me but suggest that I change the tire. ME? Change a TIRE! And there, nearly crying in my blue VW bug with Ali tapping on my window wondering why we stopped, I suddenly had to grow balls. I would liken it to when Popeye downed a can of spinach, you could literally see his muscles sprouting in his arms, legs, and neck. So it might have been with me when I chased away my fear and annoyance by downing a nice tall glass of faith. It's amazing that stuff. Sticks to your insides, puts hair on your chest, what have you. Well whatever it does I now know for sure that it has the power to propel you out of a dire situation.
Ali and I unpacked my overflowing trunk. Found the spare that wasn't a spare at all but a real tire, and proceeded to learn how to use a jack, a wrench and lug nuts. I don't think it could have been more than twenty minutes and we were on the road again. Situation under control; crisis being left in the dirt on the shoulder as we speed off down the highway. Just another hurtle.
And now that I've started school, taken care of various responsibilities, each in which I required varying dosages of faith, I look back on my flat tire experience and wonder, after all that, will I ever walk away from God as the Israelites did? Will I ignore His words and say "where are you God?" or "Where were you when I needed you." The truth is I have, and I will. It's sad, but that's what I'm learning. Faith is something acquired, and I have to keep growing it and really on past situations to feed it's ever growing and changing flames. I don't want to be like an Israelite, always forgetting my Hero. But to get there I guess I need more seat-of-the-pants, in-the-nick-of-time experiences to fall back on and remember. Oh life, what a journey.
And now that I've started school, taken care of various responsibilities, each in which I required varying dosages of faith, I look back on my flat tire experience and wonder, after all that, will I ever walk away from God as the Israelites did? Will I ignore His words and say "where are you God?" or "Where were you when I needed you." The truth is I have, and I will. It's sad, but that's what I'm learning. Faith is something acquired, and I have to keep growing it and really on past situations to feed it's ever growing and changing flames. I don't want to be like an Israelite, always forgetting my Hero. But to get there I guess I need more seat-of-the-pants, in-the-nick-of-time experiences to fall back on and remember. Oh life, what a journey.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
My 28th Day
Oh goodness...
These past few days/weeks I've been pacing. Mentally that is; back and forth over whether I trust Him or not. This mental scale tipping is not something that I would suggest doing if you are in a tight squeeze. The bible specifically tells us not to worry. And I, fighting through a great deal of pride, have been struggling under my own financial burdens. I give it to Him, and then unbeknownst to me, my doubts and abundant trust in money and it's power take over me. That is when I simply take my burden from my saviours hands and lasso it my own back. But what a weight! What a crushing feeling! And He says "For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? (Matthew 6:25)"
Then I say "but Lord, how can I acquire these things if I am not thinking about them?"
"And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? (Matthew 6:27)"
"I know I shouldn't worry, I just can't see the possibility of avoiding it! Especially when I need these things now!" This is when I get angry. This is when my heart wants to explode because I feel backed into a corner. But Jesus (his name means God with us) is so patient, so ready to answer and console me saying, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)"
And so I present. I tell Him how I am angry, and how I am affected by the waiting process. And He tells me to forget it, and "When you are brought before synagogues, rulers and authorities, do not worry about how you will defend yourselves or what you will say, for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that time what you should say.(Luke 12:11-12)"
Even up till the last moment we are asked to go in faith. Till we are in front of those with authority over the things we need and hold dear. Without His word as a light, as a guide for my feet and path, I would stumble! I would pick my own way and never see what my mustard seed sized faith amounts to in the daylight. So, I will persevere. Simply because He says "Joy comes in in the morning." And since I'm looking at Him and not my own feet or the sky around me, I won't know when morning is until He tells me. Hows that for a dependant relationship? And He would have it no other way...
These past few days/weeks I've been pacing. Mentally that is; back and forth over whether I trust Him or not. This mental scale tipping is not something that I would suggest doing if you are in a tight squeeze. The bible specifically tells us not to worry. And I, fighting through a great deal of pride, have been struggling under my own financial burdens. I give it to Him, and then unbeknownst to me, my doubts and abundant trust in money and it's power take over me. That is when I simply take my burden from my saviours hands and lasso it my own back. But what a weight! What a crushing feeling! And He says "For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? (Matthew 6:25)"
Then I say "but Lord, how can I acquire these things if I am not thinking about them?"
"And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? (Matthew 6:27)"
"I know I shouldn't worry, I just can't see the possibility of avoiding it! Especially when I need these things now!" This is when I get angry. This is when my heart wants to explode because I feel backed into a corner. But Jesus (his name means God with us) is so patient, so ready to answer and console me saying, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)"
And so I present. I tell Him how I am angry, and how I am affected by the waiting process. And He tells me to forget it, and "When you are brought before synagogues, rulers and authorities, do not worry about how you will defend yourselves or what you will say, for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that time what you should say.(Luke 12:11-12)"
Even up till the last moment we are asked to go in faith. Till we are in front of those with authority over the things we need and hold dear. Without His word as a light, as a guide for my feet and path, I would stumble! I would pick my own way and never see what my mustard seed sized faith amounts to in the daylight. So, I will persevere. Simply because He says "Joy comes in in the morning." And since I'm looking at Him and not my own feet or the sky around me, I won't know when morning is until He tells me. Hows that for a dependant relationship? And He would have it no other way...
Monday, August 20, 2007
Hanson Place SDA
These pictures are all from Saturday. I had the chance to sing at the Hanson Place SDA church in Brooklyn and it was amazing. We really had a great time. It's not to often that you get the chance to put on a concert with two other artists that you love and respect. Further more, it's not often that these two artists attended the same academy and toured in the same choir as you. Terrel and Ali are brilliant God fearing performers, artists, and writers. Sharing a stage with them was an honor. It was a nice finale (thank you Jesus) for a summer of random performances and blessings.
After the concert (magnificently MCed by Nevy and his cousin), we all headed out to Juniors for dinner. It was great parading up the streets of Brooklyn with people that I hadn't shared company with in years. All of us crowded at a table passing around bowls of pickles, corn bread, and cheese cake. Laughing and joking over hulking meaty burgers and mounds of french fries. It very well could have been a table in the cafe at BMA, or even at Andrews for that matter. How small our world of Adventism really is. Good Times. Enjoy the pics.
Terrel Jamin, switching from piano to guitar and then back (like a pro)
Ali and I traded off so that we could have a chance to talk about ASK, our artist sponsorship program.
Ali started off the whole night. Which is quite brave because you never know how an audience is going to warm up or respond to you at first contact. Kudos to Ali!
Ali and Terrel before the concert.
Some of the crew that met us at Juniors
....and Ali
GIP! THis is Trisha, my favorite ever.
Edson and Ali. Edson played drums for Terrel. What skill what skill.
That's me sneaking into Nevy and Arthurs ganstER posing pic. Arthur came all the way from Boston to chill with us. Hahah good times.Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Apply Grace Here
I am at my whit's end. I need some grace. I could go for some mercy. And if it's available, I'll have some divinely prepared TLC.
Keep me in your prayers. Please
Keep me in your prayers. Please
Monday, August 13, 2007
Exciting Things!
The Philadelphia Eagles: Our chance to return to glory! Let the season BEGIN! I've already been sporting my #5 McNabb jersey. Hopefully soon I will aquire Westbrook's blazing #36. All in good time.
Harry Potter: Utterly obsessed with JK Rowling. What a brilliant woman. So glad/so sad to get my hands on the 7th and last Harry Potter. Boo hoorah! The book was AMAZING, as promised. JKR does promise a HP encyclopedia. For crazed fans that is (aka me). Not in the near future, but eventually. And if you find yourself craving some exclusive Harry Potter conversation over the Deathly Hollows visit PotterCast. It is a haven.
SCHOOL!: Oh horah! When I think of AU I think SOCIAL LIFE! One major thing I traded in when I took my sabbatical here in the hills of PA. Although family is a nice plus, and *sigh they will be missed...
Harry Potter: Utterly obsessed with JK Rowling. What a brilliant woman. So glad/so sad to get my hands on the 7th and last Harry Potter. Boo hoorah! The book was AMAZING, as promised. JKR does promise a HP encyclopedia. For crazed fans that is (aka me). Not in the near future, but eventually. And if you find yourself craving some exclusive Harry Potter conversation over the Deathly Hollows visit PotterCast. It is a haven.
SCHOOL!: Oh horah! When I think of AU I think SOCIAL LIFE! One major thing I traded in when I took my sabbatical here in the hills of PA. Although family is a nice plus, and *sigh they will be missed...
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Take Me Away
As you know, we flew to Houston in First Class. It's amazing how God works. We were flying down the highway due to poorly measured time. Apparently we had allotted too little for the tasks between leaving home and boarding the plain. But as we stood at our boarding gate, milling around with the other travelers, sweat dripping from our foreheads, we sought out two seats in the overly crowded waiting area. Just as we sank comfortably into the booty rounded seats our names were called over the loud speakers. In an airport, this usually isn't the best thing is it? Well we regathered our belongings and ventured up to the front to learn that we were, in fact, to be standing under the arrow that read "Elite Passengers" rather than the long twisting line of the "Other Cargo." And there it was. From Baltimore to Memphis (my birth place!) and Memphis to Houston we were offered special edible treats, grinning stewards running up and down the isles securing that our comfort levels remained at an all time high, while we remained in euphoria. Of course we complemented them by wearing nice big grins, symbolic of our grandiose seats with more than ample allotments of leg room; all the while wondering how on earth we went from racing on a slim and slender hope that our plane hadn't already left us to soaring Elitely over the many Southern and Western states that separate Houston from Baltimore.From the airport we then ventured off to find our rental car. Seeing as how we had wagered Priceline.com down to $14 a day we figured our car would be a little put-put crapper. Low and behold (we honestly should have known), God's plans are ultimately bigger. It was true, that we had stepped out in the unknown realms that Faith often requires you to journey into. Going to Houston with only prayers that we would each be successful in our chosen tasks. God not only met us there, He flew along the whole way! When we wheeled our luggage into the car rental place we discovered that our car was a new 2007 VW Rabbit. Gentle audience, know that I am in love with anything graced with that precious V and W duo on it's hood. Naturally, I was in a locomotive heaven
One would think that the A++ treatment stops here. On the contrary! We then drove to our splendiforous hotel! Online it was a 3 star Hilton off in some corner of Houston. When we arrived it was a Four and a half star hotel, in which we had a gi-mungous room complete with a balcony that overlooked all of starry glistening Houston.
Then next day in church we discovered that our hotel was actually central to all of Houstons finest shopping. Haha.. Sunday we sought out for a beach where we could sit and read our books. (yes mom and I are dorky librarians. deal.) When we finally arrived on the beach we discovered, to our utter amazement, that we had faltered upon the Golf of Mexico. Amazing aye? And all from the works of One God.
Me singing on Sabbath
Me and mom at the Gulf
Venturing off to find a good reading perch
Remember all my prayers of finding tuition for school? School starts in 2 weeks and checks come in every day. How great is my God? Truly, how Great?
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Elite Class
Houston is BRILLIANT. Consider me sold.
I've only been here a day and I'm in love, not only with the city but with the people.
GOD IS SO BIG! Miracle after Miracle, I can't even begin... My heart is so full. He brought us here for sure (mom and me, that is).
For starters, we rode first class. That's me and mom enjoying our preferred seating to the left there. Ha Ha. And that's just the beginning of the many perks we've been treated to on this trip. More on that when I get back to muggy PA though. For now, I'm livin in unexpected but very welcome bliss. Wish you were me? Yes? Yeah, I know...
I've only been here a day and I'm in love, not only with the city but with the people.
GOD IS SO BIG! Miracle after Miracle, I can't even begin... My heart is so full. He brought us here for sure (mom and me, that is).
For starters, we rode first class. That's me and mom enjoying our preferred seating to the left there. Ha Ha. And that's just the beginning of the many perks we've been treated to on this trip. More on that when I get back to muggy PA though. For now, I'm livin in unexpected but very welcome bliss. Wish you were me? Yes? Yeah, I know...
Friday, August 3, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Laurel Lake Camp
Friday afternoon I made the 4 hour journey to Laurel Lake Camp. Mind you it was supposed to be 4 hours. Somehow it managed to stretch itself into 5 and a half. With all the road construction and unavoidable back roads that lead to the tiny secluded camp, I didn't have much choice but to journey on, ever annoyed that the people in front of me were actually going the speed limit.
This summer I've been ripped out of my element time and time again. It's rather taxing, presenting your ideas and passion to a group of strangers and hoping that they come out the other side of the presentation having heard your message and (hopefully) loving they music in which it was delivered.
Oh Laurel Lake Camp (is the dearest and the best. haha). It was good times. I must say, Friday night sitting around the little Cabin Campfires relating and listening to everyones week, specifically how they were touched or moved by the camp experience brought back memories of my own teenage-infected time on that campus. But it was good, and they were good memories.
The last summer I worked there, I can remember standing on the balcony of the lodge talking to my mom. Besides the fact that it was such a beautifully starry night, I was on the deck because it offered me the best position, over all the acres of forest and field, for the strongly coveted semi sturdy cellphone reception. Rossiter really is deep down in the under belly of Pennsylvania. Anyway, Standing out there, mere months after I graduated from Blue Mountain Academy, I told my mom exactly what my heart was feeling. And that was what every college bound highschool graduate thinks of; what they want to do with the rest of their lives! And I knew, after all those weeks of singing for worship, of fellowship and seeing God work through a medium of concentrated faith and earnest action, that I wanted nothing more than to be a channel for Him to witness through. And my chosen medium, above all else would be music.
Friday night at the camp fires, when we all joined hands in the big circle and started to sing the last songs of the night, as we swayed and stared up at the glittery sky, the memory hit me. It hit me as a misplaced warm breeze in the cool night, oddly warming my body so that my hairs pricked and stood on ends. The breeze was inside me bowling over my organs till they were mush. It was as if He looked right back at me from the sky, scooped me up and gave me a kiss. "How great of Him," I thought, "to bring me back here when I've started my journey." Truly, how great of Him.
And the rest of the two day stay was a blast. I had a great time jammin with the staff on stage (mostly jumping around, but it was all in good fun.) It got to talk to the campers. Basically re experience what it is to live in a Pop Culture free environment. Gosh, it was beautiful.
The concert I gave was fun, even though it helped me realize some of my short comings and faults. But what is experience without learned growth in the end?
Denise, the camp director is a very special woman. It's true then, what the bible says about giving. If you give freely, you in return will be given to in an even larger and more astounding amount. Denise showed me that in a special way.
All in all it, it was good times. And now I ask God, what's next?
This summer I've been ripped out of my element time and time again. It's rather taxing, presenting your ideas and passion to a group of strangers and hoping that they come out the other side of the presentation having heard your message and (hopefully) loving they music in which it was delivered.
Oh Laurel Lake Camp (is the dearest and the best. haha). It was good times. I must say, Friday night sitting around the little Cabin Campfires relating and listening to everyones week, specifically how they were touched or moved by the camp experience brought back memories of my own teenage-infected time on that campus. But it was good, and they were good memories.
The last summer I worked there, I can remember standing on the balcony of the lodge talking to my mom. Besides the fact that it was such a beautifully starry night, I was on the deck because it offered me the best position, over all the acres of forest and field, for the strongly coveted semi sturdy cellphone reception. Rossiter really is deep down in the under belly of Pennsylvania. Anyway, Standing out there, mere months after I graduated from Blue Mountain Academy, I told my mom exactly what my heart was feeling. And that was what every college bound highschool graduate thinks of; what they want to do with the rest of their lives! And I knew, after all those weeks of singing for worship, of fellowship and seeing God work through a medium of concentrated faith and earnest action, that I wanted nothing more than to be a channel for Him to witness through. And my chosen medium, above all else would be music.
Friday night at the camp fires, when we all joined hands in the big circle and started to sing the last songs of the night, as we swayed and stared up at the glittery sky, the memory hit me. It hit me as a misplaced warm breeze in the cool night, oddly warming my body so that my hairs pricked and stood on ends. The breeze was inside me bowling over my organs till they were mush. It was as if He looked right back at me from the sky, scooped me up and gave me a kiss. "How great of Him," I thought, "to bring me back here when I've started my journey." Truly, how great of Him.
And the rest of the two day stay was a blast. I had a great time jammin with the staff on stage (mostly jumping around, but it was all in good fun.) It got to talk to the campers. Basically re experience what it is to live in a Pop Culture free environment. Gosh, it was beautiful.
The concert I gave was fun, even though it helped me realize some of my short comings and faults. But what is experience without learned growth in the end?
Denise, the camp director is a very special woman. It's true then, what the bible says about giving. If you give freely, you in return will be given to in an even larger and more astounding amount. Denise showed me that in a special way.
All in all it, it was good times. And now I ask God, what's next?
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
I don't Get it
I've been so mopey the last two days. I haven't worked out. I have had to force myself to call people and e-mail, basically finish things I started. Unmotivated. What gives? I don't know when it started but I suddenly had the urge to own a skateboard. OK correction. Own and ride a skateboard. Last night I reached the epitome of this desire as I mindlessly clicked out of my e-mail (where I do very important things I might add), to search for "pretty cool looking skateboards." Besides all the wonderful pictures that you can get on a board, I discovered that there are different lengths for different types of riders. New skateboards are invented every day. And they even have boards specially made for chicks. When I say specialy made I mean... the designs have pink skulls instead of red ones. Makes sense? Indeed...
Surprisingly, even though I had about a bajillion things to do this morning (Mostly call people back insuring that I Am NOT a Flake. Which is something I have to remind myself of every once in a while to stay on top of things.) I ended up at Target snooping up and down the isles in my raggedy jeans and Puma sneakers (the ideal skateboarder look, ahem...) searching for a skateboard. Once I found that tiny section of the store, located conveniently between the ilse with the helmets and the isle with the gauze, antiseptic, and band aids... (hahah I laugh!) I eyed my scanty pickings. Why do boys like skulls so much? This is a serious question people! Because I was forced to buy a lame one with a.... sappy design on it. So sappy I don't even know what it IS! Anyway, I'm standing there holding this skateboard looking at the price, remembering how much I have in my wallet, trying to remember why in the name of pain am I- a 22 year old heavy set musician- purchasing a skateboard? God knows... But I did. And I road it down my driveway a couple times. And now, despite my mopey crappy mood, I'm happy. Let that be a lesson to you! Whatever lesson you can gather from this, please let me know. Cuz I'm still quite clueless...
Surprisingly, even though I had about a bajillion things to do this morning (Mostly call people back insuring that I Am NOT a Flake. Which is something I have to remind myself of every once in a while to stay on top of things.) I ended up at Target snooping up and down the isles in my raggedy jeans and Puma sneakers (the ideal skateboarder look, ahem...) searching for a skateboard. Once I found that tiny section of the store, located conveniently between the ilse with the helmets and the isle with the gauze, antiseptic, and band aids... (hahah I laugh!) I eyed my scanty pickings. Why do boys like skulls so much? This is a serious question people! Because I was forced to buy a lame one with a.... sappy design on it. So sappy I don't even know what it IS! Anyway, I'm standing there holding this skateboard looking at the price, remembering how much I have in my wallet, trying to remember why in the name of pain am I- a 22 year old heavy set musician- purchasing a skateboard? God knows... But I did. And I road it down my driveway a couple times. And now, despite my mopey crappy mood, I'm happy. Let that be a lesson to you! Whatever lesson you can gather from this, please let me know. Cuz I'm still quite clueless...
Monday, July 23, 2007
What a Good Life!
I'm having one heck of a summer. I love EVERY MINUTE OF IT. What is making it so freaking exciting? Traveling OF COURSE! I've been all over and this last month of the summer will only add to my constant geographical displacement. This weekend I'll either be in New York or Laurel Lake camp. Next weekend I'm in Houston, the weekend after that Seattle... I love being on the move. Good times. Anyway.
I realize that my blogs are little more than random information right now, BUT this will soon end. For those of you who do love my more elaborate/colourful writing, have no fear... soon it will return. Haha (I'm so weird) Anyway. Peace yall... go with blessings.
I realize that my blogs are little more than random information right now, BUT this will soon end. For those of you who do love my more elaborate/colourful writing, have no fear... soon it will return. Haha (I'm so weird) Anyway. Peace yall... go with blessings.
Friday, July 20, 2007
It is Finished
Last night I drove over to Dave and Chris's to pick up the demo. Signed a check and left with the discs in my hands. I was so calm it might have been shock, all I could think was "it's over..." I didn't pop it into the 6 disc changer in my trunk. I just rode home, in silence. All the while praying as doubts, fears, and disbelief poured over me. There I was wondering the back roads that link Delaware to my Pennsylvanian driveway, and in my solemn solitude I was fighting an internal war whose main subject was faith. Reader I almost cried. It was months ago, and this demo thing wasn't even an idea. It came to me that both Cd's that I have were created with very little planning. God just provided. So much lies on this music. So much. In my mind I was pleading with God, to make the demo what it needs to be to touch people. Faith. That is the underlying theme of the entire 6 song compilation. Faith. "And if I fail, I'm gonna fail big. And If I fall, I'm gonna fall for it all." I said those words didn't I? He put them in my heart, He attached them to my mind as I wrote... I didn't have a guitar and He got me one. I didn't know how to write music and He inspired me. Is there anything my God cannot do?
So there it is, On my Myspace. You can listen to the songs listed there or download them. Enjoy!
So there it is, On my Myspace. You can listen to the songs listed there or download them. Enjoy!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
It's Finally Here!
Spider Pig, Spider Pig. Does whatever a Spider Pig does. hahahahaha
Visit What I've Been Waiting For All My Adolescence!Sunday, July 15, 2007
If I (Frickin-Frackin) Fall
MY DEMO IS COMPLETE! HORAH!
Folks. Give me days, mere moments. And I will have it online for your listening pleasure. And please, feel FREE to purchase any song that tickles your fancy. Cuz truthfully, it's all for you anyway!
Be blessed!
-Heart CDC
Folks. Give me days, mere moments. And I will have it online for your listening pleasure. And please, feel FREE to purchase any song that tickles your fancy. Cuz truthfully, it's all for you anyway!
Be blessed!
-Heart CDC
Friday, July 13, 2007
I've Created Life!
So it's final. The last leg of my musical summer's journey will take me to both Seattle, Washington and Houston, Texas. Gosh I'm excited for this adventure. No new word on opening for Leeland though. Oh but my spirits are up! And as I like to say, God is Bigger!
Hey, but I did just get a glimpse of my album cover. I'm proud I am! It's quite nostalgic though. The graphic designer took all sorts of scribblings and notes from my past (ahem, church and class doodling) and pasted them all over the cover and insides; bearing my insides! Can you believe it friends? What was theory, words, and orchestration is now becoming tangible in my own hands. I've never given birth, but making an album (well half of an album) has got to hold some of the key elements found in the birthing process. Haha! I would liken seeing this stage of the project to discovering the sex of the child in the womb. Not whole yet... not crying, sucking, and loving... but there, in theory none the less! Oh creativity it is a muse of it's own.
Hey, but I did just get a glimpse of my album cover. I'm proud I am! It's quite nostalgic though. The graphic designer took all sorts of scribblings and notes from my past (ahem, church and class doodling) and pasted them all over the cover and insides; bearing my insides! Can you believe it friends? What was theory, words, and orchestration is now becoming tangible in my own hands. I've never given birth, but making an album (well half of an album) has got to hold some of the key elements found in the birthing process. Haha! I would liken seeing this stage of the project to discovering the sex of the child in the womb. Not whole yet... not crying, sucking, and loving... but there, in theory none the less! Oh creativity it is a muse of it's own.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
With Blue Wands
Oh these adventurous boys. Up and down ladders with towels and rags. Across and over with painters tape. Finally squating with brushes and rollers. Like big blue highlighters, blue washing the dingy white walls. And then the deciding and decifering. What furniture goes where. Laying out the rug. haha. Tuesday night this was what we did. Me and 5 boys. Once those lads get an idea they get it done. So here you have glimpsed a segment of the rejuvinationg process of one of the dingy classrooms in the basement of our church. The purpose of this makeover is to give the young adults a refuge from the youth/pre teen and all that is cradle roll. What brave boys. Watching them and participating in the grimy activity I had a sense that this is what we are all meant to do. Work together. Who has experienced more success than when they have come together in fellowship or as a group to get it done? Just a thought... Maybe the purpose of life is to work together. I do want Him to come back. Don't you? Can't we complete this work... somehow...
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Good Neighbor Day
Sometimes I feel like a hollow shell of myself. Like my words and actions are bigger than I really am. I have all these pictures of me posing as an artist; I have my music page and all that ness... lyrics and Cd's; but mostly when I look at that stuff I feel much smaller and quite 'other', if you know what I mean.
Today was Good Neighbor Day in Downingtown. Basically it's a fair set up for the 4th of July and for once my family participated with a booth. Since we did it all with family friends I was selected to watch this and guard that whilst the business of fair making ensued.
I always wanted to be a street performer. In less than a week I've had two opportunities to jam openly for passersby; Just this past Sunday and then today. So after a while of dilly dallying my guitar trickled over from my car. Not long after that I was asked to play louder so my amp found a plug. Luckily I had an old mic in my moms car (and a mic stand, what luck!) and started Jammin! At first I was tentative to sing my songs. They are all Christian! And I just kept thinking "Jonah, Jonah, Jonah. Don't be ashamed of who you are." And then it was just another jam time. So great, until the rain started. I actually sold one CD. That and someone put dollars in my open case. hahaha cool beans.
After the rain shut me down I heard the tune up of a live band down at the main stage of the park. It just so happened that as I was packing up to go home when that same band took a cigarette break right behind Pedro. GOODNESS! So, (the inquisitive person that I am) I went to meet them. One word led to another and they invited me on stage!!!!!! HOORAH! So I jammed guys! 4 songs and a little back ground sax/drums later I floated off the stage. So HAPPY that I got to play for a full crowd of people/passersby. Beautiful
So I'm sure He knew of my sprouting and flourishing feelings of inadequacy blooming in my heart. And today, by letting me jam and play so freely (His music by the way) with such trained musicians, He let me know that YES, I am still so so small. But the good news is I'm still clay. And one day, by His grace, I will fill that very big mold He has set my heart to. Until then I will jam for random passersby and church folk alike.
Today was Good Neighbor Day in Downingtown. Basically it's a fair set up for the 4th of July and for once my family participated with a booth. Since we did it all with family friends I was selected to watch this and guard that whilst the business of fair making ensued.
I always wanted to be a street performer. In less than a week I've had two opportunities to jam openly for passersby; Just this past Sunday and then today. So after a while of dilly dallying my guitar trickled over from my car. Not long after that I was asked to play louder so my amp found a plug. Luckily I had an old mic in my moms car (and a mic stand, what luck!) and started Jammin! At first I was tentative to sing my songs. They are all Christian! And I just kept thinking "Jonah, Jonah, Jonah. Don't be ashamed of who you are." And then it was just another jam time. So great, until the rain started. I actually sold one CD. That and someone put dollars in my open case. hahaha cool beans.
After the rain shut me down I heard the tune up of a live band down at the main stage of the park. It just so happened that as I was packing up to go home when that same band took a cigarette break right behind Pedro. GOODNESS! So, (the inquisitive person that I am) I went to meet them. One word led to another and they invited me on stage!!!!!! HOORAH! So I jammed guys! 4 songs and a little back ground sax/drums later I floated off the stage. So HAPPY that I got to play for a full crowd of people/passersby. Beautiful
So I'm sure He knew of my sprouting and flourishing feelings of inadequacy blooming in my heart. And today, by letting me jam and play so freely (His music by the way) with such trained musicians, He let me know that YES, I am still so so small. But the good news is I'm still clay. And one day, by His grace, I will fill that very big mold He has set my heart to. Until then I will jam for random passersby and church folk alike.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Given to Arcadia
It's been a while since I've mustered up enough words to make complete thoughts here. But I just can't help telling you about this past weekend.
If you have been reading my blog you know that I live for the weekends. Well this past weekend was no exception. Tell me reader, how is it possible to see so much of God in mere people? In just folks? Have you ever felt the feeling, in this crazy confusing life that we live, that you had made it, at last, to a spot where you were supposed to be. Kind of like a check point. As if there is a route that we travel with our personal savour guiding us blindly through thick and then, only then to arrive at a beautiful sunlit and earth scented clearing that tells you, "yes, you are doing just fine."
My friends and I traveled to Albany New York to put on a Young Adult Sabbath at another friends church. We played we sang, canoed, swam, jumped on the giant trampoline, played games, and conversed of all sorts of wonders. Truly, I cannot imagine my life without these Christian friends. Nothing is sweeter than finding those few gems who share your same values, same beliefs, and further more, gems who will uphold a large measure of this accountability when their neighbor falls. Who can say there is anything greater than friendship?
I believe the saddest part of my weekend was leaving that friend rich Arcadia.
And to think, we were all gathered there in His name. "Where two or three are gathered in My Name, I am there." -the Bible ;)
Goodness, I want to be everywhere He goes.
If you have been reading my blog you know that I live for the weekends. Well this past weekend was no exception. Tell me reader, how is it possible to see so much of God in mere people? In just folks? Have you ever felt the feeling, in this crazy confusing life that we live, that you had made it, at last, to a spot where you were supposed to be. Kind of like a check point. As if there is a route that we travel with our personal savour guiding us blindly through thick and then, only then to arrive at a beautiful sunlit and earth scented clearing that tells you, "yes, you are doing just fine."
My friends and I traveled to Albany New York to put on a Young Adult Sabbath at another friends church. We played we sang, canoed, swam, jumped on the giant trampoline, played games, and conversed of all sorts of wonders. Truly, I cannot imagine my life without these Christian friends. Nothing is sweeter than finding those few gems who share your same values, same beliefs, and further more, gems who will uphold a large measure of this accountability when their neighbor falls. Who can say there is anything greater than friendship?
I believe the saddest part of my weekend was leaving that friend rich Arcadia.
And to think, we were all gathered there in His name. "Where two or three are gathered in My Name, I am there." -the Bible ;)
Goodness, I want to be everywhere He goes.
and on it goes
I see evidence of God working in my life. Like little silt deposits left after a flood, I'm just following these small remnants of hope to the ocean. The one I know lies right over this dessert. I can smell salt in this dry breeze. Ah, I will get there!
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