I really liked this quote from "Traveling Mercies" by Ann Lamott. (p.231-232) A very very funny, honest and quotable book. Hilarious and yet she's a beautiful writer and has some really interesting reflections. She gets on this topic of baptism when she is complaining about how she fears the weather because it messes up the hair she spends so much time perfecting.
Can you imagine the hopelessness of trying to live a spiritual life whne you're secretly looking up at the skies not for illumination or direction but to gauge, miserably, the odds of rain?...Because Christianity is about water: "Everyone that thirsteth, come ye to the waters." It's about baptism, for God's sake. It's about full immersion, about falling into something elemental and wet. Most of what we do in wordly life is geared toward our staying dry, looking good, not going under. But in baptism, in lakes and rain and tanks and fonts, you agree to do something that's a little sloppy because at the same time it's also holy, and absurd. It's about surrender, giving in to all those things we can't control; it's a willingness to let go of balance and decorum and get drenched.
There's something so tender about this to me, about being willing to hav eyour makeup wash off, your eyes tear up, your nose start to run. It's tender partly because it harkens back to infancy, to your mother washing your face with love and lots of water, tending to you, making you clean all over again. And in the Christian experience of baptism, the hope is that when you go under you come out, maybe a little disoriented, you haven't dragged the old day along behind you. The hope, the belief, is that a new days i upon you now. A day when you are emboldened to take God at God's word about cleanness and protection: "When though passeth through the water, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee."
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
a year later
This time last year I was stressing and freaking out about the reality that I would be heading over to Mongolia—a place foreign in both culture and the inconceivability of the climate. There was a sense of adventure stirred in with this fear of the unknown as well as just trusting that this is what I was supposed to be doing.
A lot has transpired in a year and yet here I am in the same physical place at the same job. Strange to think that I went all the way across the world to find out what I should be doing, to find God, to find myself and then I came back to familiarity.
I remember thinking about how cold I felt here even though I had hand warmer packets in my pockets and a thick coat over my body. I remember when I got off the plane in Mongolia and it was so cold it hurt, it was a strange sensation. It was an intense shock after being in Thailand for a solid month, contrasting snow with tropical sands. I recall feeling lost in Thailand, not knowing how to prepare myself for what was coming. I felt a little like I was closing myself off.
I have seen a lot, learned a lot but I do not feel much farther from where I was a year ago. Part of going on that trip was self discovery, learning how to lean on God and find what I can do to be pleasing him by helping people. If anything, I feel even more lost because I do not have this to look forward to. I need to see a way out, rather than assuming this sinking is inevitable. I have always counted on something to rescue me by giving me purpose. What do you do when you look ahead but cannot see or even imagine the future?
This Christmas I will not be with my nuclear family as I always have been, but get to spend time with my love and relatives. Although things feel and seem familiar, I can taste something different in the air. Opportunity, to travel and get quality time with my girl, to fight and laugh on the long open road. These are enough to ignite hope and excitement for what is to come when it is so overwhelmingly the same.
A lot has transpired in a year and yet here I am in the same physical place at the same job. Strange to think that I went all the way across the world to find out what I should be doing, to find God, to find myself and then I came back to familiarity.
I remember thinking about how cold I felt here even though I had hand warmer packets in my pockets and a thick coat over my body. I remember when I got off the plane in Mongolia and it was so cold it hurt, it was a strange sensation. It was an intense shock after being in Thailand for a solid month, contrasting snow with tropical sands. I recall feeling lost in Thailand, not knowing how to prepare myself for what was coming. I felt a little like I was closing myself off.
I have seen a lot, learned a lot but I do not feel much farther from where I was a year ago. Part of going on that trip was self discovery, learning how to lean on God and find what I can do to be pleasing him by helping people. If anything, I feel even more lost because I do not have this to look forward to. I need to see a way out, rather than assuming this sinking is inevitable. I have always counted on something to rescue me by giving me purpose. What do you do when you look ahead but cannot see or even imagine the future?
This Christmas I will not be with my nuclear family as I always have been, but get to spend time with my love and relatives. Although things feel and seem familiar, I can taste something different in the air. Opportunity, to travel and get quality time with my girl, to fight and laugh on the long open road. These are enough to ignite hope and excitement for what is to come when it is so overwhelmingly the same.
Monday, December 15, 2008
prints
The clouds have descended
Layering the earth
I wonder if this is what it is like
To live in the sky
I see a flurry of prints pressed in
Going this way and that
The marks, in single file
Forging new paths with each crossing
To feign the presence of more
Each step, a longing sigh
For that day
When two prints at a time
Replace the one
Layering the earth
I wonder if this is what it is like
To live in the sky
I see a flurry of prints pressed in
Going this way and that
The marks, in single file
Forging new paths with each crossing
To feign the presence of more
Each step, a longing sigh
For that day
When two prints at a time
Replace the one
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Anywhere
The car is parked
You are shivering
So I hand you my jacket
And you hide beneath
I sit on my hands
Not sure what to do
Looking out the driver’s side
I swear we have been here before
Maybe that is just it
This road we know so well
Seems so right, so familiar
I don’t care
if we take the long way there.
I don’t care
if we take the long way there
If you are with me
You ask me
But I say I’m not cold
Right now
I just want you to stay
We’ve taken a wrong turn or two
But unveiled new things
Along the way
Remember that old tree we climbed,
worn and off the common path,
with a view only for two?
Though a sigh lends to questions
Though a silence stands between
You are still here
And I don’t want to be anywhere
But here, with you
I don’t care
If we take the long way there
If you are with me
You are shivering
So I hand you my jacket
And you hide beneath
I sit on my hands
Not sure what to do
Looking out the driver’s side
I swear we have been here before
Maybe that is just it
This road we know so well
Seems so right, so familiar
I don’t care
if we take the long way there.
I don’t care
if we take the long way there
If you are with me
You ask me
But I say I’m not cold
Right now
I just want you to stay
We’ve taken a wrong turn or two
But unveiled new things
Along the way
Remember that old tree we climbed,
worn and off the common path,
with a view only for two?
Though a sigh lends to questions
Though a silence stands between
You are still here
And I don’t want to be anywhere
But here, with you
I don’t care
If we take the long way there
If you are with me
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Abraham
Patriarch of the stars
Father of the sands
Won’t you hear my plea
To intercede for your descendents
For the smell of sulfur in the air
Is beginning to remind me of Sodom
The injustice
The gluttony
The idle hands
The poor ignored
Is beginning to look like Gomorrah
The ash, I can taste it in my mouth
We distance ourselves from these fabled cities
For we were founded on freedom and truth
Our ignominy tells no tales
Is there a righteous man
Even one?
Patriarch, oh that you were here
To plead on our behalf
That the righteous might rise up
And be heard before it is too late
For our transgressions
Are the catalyst
In which we’ve been dousing ourselves
Before the city is lit ablaze
Patriarch of the stars
Won’t you forgive us
For treating your children
As grains filtered one by one
As the sand of time
Falling
As we watch
With able hands, each life
Waste away
Righteous man, rise up
Save your city from destruction
For the cry of the forgotten
The rumble of the empty stomachs
The voicelessness of the downtrodden
Is beginning to sound like the haunting chant
The chant of justice, of judgment
Father of many
Righteousness was credited to you
For faith in an unseen covenant
As fools we have disgraced your blessing
Ascribed to us
For our “sin so grievous”*
I fear, is a piercing outcry
That will not be ignored
Father of many
Won’t you rescue us
So that the righteous
Will not be swept away with the wicked? *
*Genesis 18:20
**Genesis 18:23
Concept impetus: Ezekiel 16:49
Father of the sands
Won’t you hear my plea
To intercede for your descendents
For the smell of sulfur in the air
Is beginning to remind me of Sodom
The injustice
The gluttony
The idle hands
The poor ignored
Is beginning to look like Gomorrah
The ash, I can taste it in my mouth
We distance ourselves from these fabled cities
For we were founded on freedom and truth
Our ignominy tells no tales
Is there a righteous man
Even one?
Patriarch, oh that you were here
To plead on our behalf
That the righteous might rise up
And be heard before it is too late
For our transgressions
Are the catalyst
In which we’ve been dousing ourselves
Before the city is lit ablaze
Patriarch of the stars
Won’t you forgive us
For treating your children
As grains filtered one by one
As the sand of time
Falling
As we watch
With able hands, each life
Waste away
Righteous man, rise up
Save your city from destruction
For the cry of the forgotten
The rumble of the empty stomachs
The voicelessness of the downtrodden
Is beginning to sound like the haunting chant
The chant of justice, of judgment
Father of many
Righteousness was credited to you
For faith in an unseen covenant
As fools we have disgraced your blessing
Ascribed to us
For our “sin so grievous”*
I fear, is a piercing outcry
That will not be ignored
Father of many
Won’t you rescue us
So that the righteous
Will not be swept away with the wicked? *
*Genesis 18:20
**Genesis 18:23
Concept impetus: Ezekiel 16:49
Monday, November 3, 2008
greatest fear
I’m sorry things have been so unclear
So unpredictable, so overcast
So sorry that who I am
So often affected by the forecast
But I’m beginning to learn
And see things anew
That when the sun is hidden
And the moon vacant
When clouds make us hold our breath
That the dark night is actually brighter
I want you to know
That every drop of ink
Every stroke of the pen
Is a tear shed for you
In joy, in pain, in suffering, in solace, in peace—-
In silence
I don’t have the words
But I’ve been trying to find them
Because our existence is so fragile
My greatest fear
Is that those I love the most
Know it the least
I want you to know
That every drop of ink
Every stroke of the pen
Are tears shed for you
In laughter, in loss, in doubt, in comfort, in rest—-
In silence
Overflowing from a heart
That fears
That those I love the most
Know it the least
So unpredictable, so overcast
So sorry that who I am
So often affected by the forecast
But I’m beginning to learn
And see things anew
That when the sun is hidden
And the moon vacant
When clouds make us hold our breath
That the dark night is actually brighter
I want you to know
That every drop of ink
Every stroke of the pen
Is a tear shed for you
In joy, in pain, in suffering, in solace, in peace—-
In silence
I don’t have the words
But I’ve been trying to find them
Because our existence is so fragile
My greatest fear
Is that those I love the most
Know it the least
I want you to know
That every drop of ink
Every stroke of the pen
Are tears shed for you
In laughter, in loss, in doubt, in comfort, in rest—-
In silence
Overflowing from a heart
That fears
That those I love the most
Know it the least
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
quote
I so connect with this:
Jon Foreman (at www.myspace.com/jonforeman)
"...Lately music has been my compass: it's neither the map, nor the road but a steady constant that can help me make sense of the both.
Most of the time, the songs that I write are more honest than I am. Sometimes I don't play certain songs for people because I'm not ready for that sort of honesty.
I don't write many happy songs, at least not lately. Which is odd because I'm a fairly upbeat guy. So I've got a few theories as to why this might be the case
It might be because life wears down on you. And you lose that part of yourself.
Or it could be because the songs are the only place where these types of ideas can find a release- like a dream where your subconscious is trying to tell you something.
Or perhaps I don't write songs when I'm happy. You know, a celebration requires a few friends and depression requires solitude.
Either way songs have become my way of finding beauty in the midst of chaos and the pain. It's a way of finding redemption for mistakes and regrets that I have.
In this way I feel like the creative process brings me closer to God. As a creator of a song I get to take all these broken fragments of failure and chaos and weave together something beautiful and meaningful. Decay. Death. Pain. Fall. And if God is a songwriter then these fallen leaves of mine can be redeemed. "
Jon Foreman (at www.myspace.com/jonforeman)
"...Lately music has been my compass: it's neither the map, nor the road but a steady constant that can help me make sense of the both.
Most of the time, the songs that I write are more honest than I am. Sometimes I don't play certain songs for people because I'm not ready for that sort of honesty.
I don't write many happy songs, at least not lately. Which is odd because I'm a fairly upbeat guy. So I've got a few theories as to why this might be the case
It might be because life wears down on you. And you lose that part of yourself.
Or it could be because the songs are the only place where these types of ideas can find a release- like a dream where your subconscious is trying to tell you something.
Or perhaps I don't write songs when I'm happy. You know, a celebration requires a few friends and depression requires solitude.
Either way songs have become my way of finding beauty in the midst of chaos and the pain. It's a way of finding redemption for mistakes and regrets that I have.
In this way I feel like the creative process brings me closer to God. As a creator of a song I get to take all these broken fragments of failure and chaos and weave together something beautiful and meaningful. Decay. Death. Pain. Fall. And if God is a songwriter then these fallen leaves of mine can be redeemed. "
Monday, October 27, 2008
advent conspiracy
A few blogs back, I posed the question as to why we need to distract ourselves from reality with these guilty pleasures. In some form, we are all subject to this. Unless you are St. Francis, you probably spend some of your time surfing the web, watching movies, reading the latest New York bestseller or whatever as an escape. We also organize these kinds of activities into bigger things like professional sports which have enough viewers where people are actually paid to be physically fit and compete.
Then we have holidays and celebrations, which really have some good intentions where families gather and enjoy each other, united in whatever it is that has drawn them there for that moment. Oh how we have commercialized such things. I have heard professors say that the calendar is structured in such a way that it has some sort of rhythm, to constantly be refreshing us and reminding us of the gospel. Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, Advent, All-saints Eve, etc. Despite the best intentions of our forefathers, it has evolved into a maelstrom of constant consumerism. Think about it, we are always gearing up for the next big holiday so we can eat excessively, blow things up, and buy extravagantly for one another. As soon as Fall hits, the Halloween candy pops out, way in advance. Before you know it, the turkeys are everywhere and we eat so much we blame our lethargy on tryptophan (when scientists say it is actually just because our stomachs are so full). Then Christmas, oh Christmas. This brings me to what I want to get at.
Last year in church I heard about a brilliant movement, called the Advent Conspiracy. I love it, it’s bringing back the scandal of the gospel, tearing back the garish colors of Christmas and going anti-tradition by reminding ourselves that we lost the point somewhere. This movement says that we try something different. It talks about relational giving. To give something that really means something to those that are important to you, to make something or to offer up your time or skills. We tend to buy each other things that get hidden somewhere in the garage, or passed on to someone else. The fact that we have enough to give meaninglessly says that there is a perfidious imbalance of wealth. Why are we giving to those that do not really need anything? Because of love. There are other ways to show love that actually mean more. This is tough and it goes against everything that we have been doing our whole lives.
The reason I want to bring this up (other than that the pastor talked about it again this year) is that the whole world thinks it is in economic crisis. I know that I am going to hear things about how Christmas spending is down and how people can’t afford to have Christmas. Whatever. I would not be surprised if these new economic stimulus packages come out, with hopes that we’ll spend it on ourselves at Christmas or another holiday.
For more info go to http://www.adventconspiracy.org. They have more stuff and statistics, about how much America goes into debt each year to bring this season into our homes.
Some of the ideas I have heard are awesome. Like families volunteering their time to serve the poor during the holidays and spending their gift money instead on building wells through Living Water in places that do not have access to potable sources. A lot of churches are doing this together, and I think this is a neat way to see a little bit of sacrifice draw people together.
Or you can go to http://www.kiva.org and take part in the revolution of microfinance. Giving small loans to people who do not have money so that they can turn around and start a small business with it or think of it as sponsoring entrepreneurs that would never have a chance on their own. You get to hear the stories and progress of the people using your “loan.” This is the whole idea of teaching a man to fish rather than just giving a fish.
Or go to http://www.heifer.org and look at a gift catalog and buy someone livestock for their farm to make it a little more sustainable.
Or go to http://donate.worldvision.org and buy someone a goat, a shelter, or pay for a kid’s education for a year.
Another gift catalog… http://giving.samaritanspurse.org.
Even my Peace Corps buddy is into this, in a way, without even knowing it. He told me about kiva.org and how he requests that instead of receiving gifts for his birthday or Christmas that people support this organization with that money. In that way, he is spreading the word about these kinds of organizations and opening their minds up to it as well.
Personally, I think it would be awesome to buy a family a ger in lieu of my time in Mongolia. The winter is brutal, having a shelter is the minimum anyone should have.
What are your thoughts? I do not want to be hyper-critical of society and holidays. Holidays are great; let us draw together and instead look beyond our little worlds and instead of trying to forget reality, make a change. Doing this together, as families, as friends has a longer last impact. The website for Advent Conspiracy has some ideas for relational giving and other stuff, so check it out.
Oh, and let me know if you want to help buy someone a ger.
Then we have holidays and celebrations, which really have some good intentions where families gather and enjoy each other, united in whatever it is that has drawn them there for that moment. Oh how we have commercialized such things. I have heard professors say that the calendar is structured in such a way that it has some sort of rhythm, to constantly be refreshing us and reminding us of the gospel. Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, Advent, All-saints Eve, etc. Despite the best intentions of our forefathers, it has evolved into a maelstrom of constant consumerism. Think about it, we are always gearing up for the next big holiday so we can eat excessively, blow things up, and buy extravagantly for one another. As soon as Fall hits, the Halloween candy pops out, way in advance. Before you know it, the turkeys are everywhere and we eat so much we blame our lethargy on tryptophan (when scientists say it is actually just because our stomachs are so full). Then Christmas, oh Christmas. This brings me to what I want to get at.
Last year in church I heard about a brilliant movement, called the Advent Conspiracy. I love it, it’s bringing back the scandal of the gospel, tearing back the garish colors of Christmas and going anti-tradition by reminding ourselves that we lost the point somewhere. This movement says that we try something different. It talks about relational giving. To give something that really means something to those that are important to you, to make something or to offer up your time or skills. We tend to buy each other things that get hidden somewhere in the garage, or passed on to someone else. The fact that we have enough to give meaninglessly says that there is a perfidious imbalance of wealth. Why are we giving to those that do not really need anything? Because of love. There are other ways to show love that actually mean more. This is tough and it goes against everything that we have been doing our whole lives.
The reason I want to bring this up (other than that the pastor talked about it again this year) is that the whole world thinks it is in economic crisis. I know that I am going to hear things about how Christmas spending is down and how people can’t afford to have Christmas. Whatever. I would not be surprised if these new economic stimulus packages come out, with hopes that we’ll spend it on ourselves at Christmas or another holiday.
For more info go to http://www.adventconspiracy.org. They have more stuff and statistics, about how much America goes into debt each year to bring this season into our homes.
Some of the ideas I have heard are awesome. Like families volunteering their time to serve the poor during the holidays and spending their gift money instead on building wells through Living Water in places that do not have access to potable sources. A lot of churches are doing this together, and I think this is a neat way to see a little bit of sacrifice draw people together.
Or you can go to http://www.kiva.org and take part in the revolution of microfinance. Giving small loans to people who do not have money so that they can turn around and start a small business with it or think of it as sponsoring entrepreneurs that would never have a chance on their own. You get to hear the stories and progress of the people using your “loan.” This is the whole idea of teaching a man to fish rather than just giving a fish.
Or go to http://www.heifer.org and look at a gift catalog and buy someone livestock for their farm to make it a little more sustainable.
Or go to http://donate.worldvision.org and buy someone a goat, a shelter, or pay for a kid’s education for a year.
Another gift catalog… http://giving.samaritanspurse.org.
Even my Peace Corps buddy is into this, in a way, without even knowing it. He told me about kiva.org and how he requests that instead of receiving gifts for his birthday or Christmas that people support this organization with that money. In that way, he is spreading the word about these kinds of organizations and opening their minds up to it as well.
Personally, I think it would be awesome to buy a family a ger in lieu of my time in Mongolia. The winter is brutal, having a shelter is the minimum anyone should have.
What are your thoughts? I do not want to be hyper-critical of society and holidays. Holidays are great; let us draw together and instead look beyond our little worlds and instead of trying to forget reality, make a change. Doing this together, as families, as friends has a longer last impact. The website for Advent Conspiracy has some ideas for relational giving and other stuff, so check it out.
Oh, and let me know if you want to help buy someone a ger.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
reverie
What would you say
If I told you
Last night
I felt like going for a drive
Windows down, the cold wind
Sweeping through
Eyes closed
Yet seeing so clearly
Soaring, free
Breathing breath not my own
Maybe then I’d remember
And wake up to your eyes
Shake me awake if that’s what it takes
In reverie everything is so clear
And yet my vision is blurred
So real but beyond my grasp
In reverie revelry
Looking out the passenger window
Watching it all go by
Driving as fast as I can
To get there
The scenes so busy, so illusory
They all fail to stain my memory
In reverie
Wake me up to your eyes
If I told you
Last night
I felt like going for a drive
Windows down, the cold wind
Sweeping through
Eyes closed
Yet seeing so clearly
Soaring, free
Breathing breath not my own
Maybe then I’d remember
And wake up to your eyes
Shake me awake if that’s what it takes
In reverie everything is so clear
And yet my vision is blurred
So real but beyond my grasp
In reverie revelry
Looking out the passenger window
Watching it all go by
Driving as fast as I can
To get there
The scenes so busy, so illusory
They all fail to stain my memory
In reverie
Wake me up to your eyes
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
souliloquy
Haven’t talked to you
In a little while
It’s been wrong, all wrong
I kind of thought
That I could get by with just listening
After all,
What could you possibly want from me
When your eyes are the truth
They penetrate through
All our formalities, structures and isms
Your heart is the scent of purity
A blossom of love
And mine reeks
Devoured by its own insularity
I have to admit
That it is hard to give of yourself
When you are used to receiving
For this gift, this gift of pain
Looms, ever growing, overbearing
Entropy for the soul
How can I understand
That you carry these for me
That this weight
Is a mere haunting shadow
That feels so real
Your light is so much lighter
Oh, deliver me
Deliver me from this inertia in my spirit
No more soliloquies
I’m crawling back to you
One word at a time
So that I can continue to listen
For your whispers
In a little while
It’s been wrong, all wrong
I kind of thought
That I could get by with just listening
After all,
What could you possibly want from me
When your eyes are the truth
They penetrate through
All our formalities, structures and isms
Your heart is the scent of purity
A blossom of love
And mine reeks
Devoured by its own insularity
I have to admit
That it is hard to give of yourself
When you are used to receiving
For this gift, this gift of pain
Looms, ever growing, overbearing
Entropy for the soul
How can I understand
That you carry these for me
That this weight
Is a mere haunting shadow
That feels so real
Your light is so much lighter
Oh, deliver me
Deliver me from this inertia in my spirit
No more soliloquies
I’m crawling back to you
One word at a time
So that I can continue to listen
For your whispers
paths
Am I lost
Or just waiting to be found
I never thought
I wandered that far
I don’t even remember
When it all started
All I know is
That I can’t see home from here
And I’m unsure which way is back
I thought, I just thought
That I heard your voice in the distance
So I ran after you
Until the air was thin
And my lungs burned
As hot coals
And my sinews could muster no strength
I thought, I just thought
That I might see you
That I might hear you
That you might urge me on
Or send me home
I don’t even know
Am I lost
Or just waiting to be found
Or just waiting to be found
I never thought
I wandered that far
I don’t even remember
When it all started
All I know is
That I can’t see home from here
And I’m unsure which way is back
I thought, I just thought
That I heard your voice in the distance
So I ran after you
Until the air was thin
And my lungs burned
As hot coals
And my sinews could muster no strength
I thought, I just thought
That I might see you
That I might hear you
That you might urge me on
Or send me home
I don’t even know
Am I lost
Or just waiting to be found
visions of the sea
This is one from Mongolia. Never got around to posting it while there; was feeling some of the same things and so I remembered I had this written somewhere. Strange, I never knew what it felt like to be landlocked, always having the ocean within a few hours drive. It manifest itself in the longing for the sea; in this time I couldn't shake thoughts of Noah, Odysseus, and Jonah...for some reason I kept dreaming of the sea.
Landlocked
Yet visions
Of the open sea
Are more vivid
Than the sight
Of water
To the parched throat
Trapped without
The ocean near
Surrounded
Free to roam
The open plains
To climb unclaimed land
Worn and winded
Its peaks
Sanded and stolen
By the desert
As it drinks life
From the land
Creeping, rushing
Like a flood
Oh, drowning
Cast a line
Before these waters
Strand hope
Clench
The horse’s mane
As the sun
Magnifies the grace
Of this wild beast
There is no solace
Across the steppe
Landlocked
Trapped at sea
As a sailor
Desperate
For the sight of land
Landlocked
Oh, drowning
Cast a line
Before these waters
Strand hope
Landlocked
Yet visions
Of the open sea
Are more vivid
Than the sight
Of water
To the parched throat
Trapped without
The ocean near
Surrounded
Free to roam
The open plains
To climb unclaimed land
Worn and winded
Its peaks
Sanded and stolen
By the desert
As it drinks life
From the land
Creeping, rushing
Like a flood
Oh, drowning
Cast a line
Before these waters
Strand hope
Clench
The horse’s mane
As the sun
Magnifies the grace
Of this wild beast
There is no solace
Across the steppe
Landlocked
Trapped at sea
As a sailor
Desperate
For the sight of land
Landlocked
Oh, drowning
Cast a line
Before these waters
Strand hope
Monday, October 6, 2008
go get drenched
It is unpleasant and inconvenient when you are in it, but nice to watch enveloped in the arms of shelter. It hides the sun with its sender and yet it gives off that magical smell when it is done.
Rain.
We do what we can to avoid it. We have umbrellas, raincoats, ponchos, cars with windshield wipers. We cover our heads with jackets when running from the house to the car. We stay inside when it pours.
I never really cared for rain because it always hindered me from doing what I wanted to do. Or it would just make things tougher to deal with. It made me feel trapped. In Thailand if I wanted to anywhere, I had to walk down the street and find some public transportation which would mean getting wet along the way. Most Taxis reject soaking wet people and it isn’t a good idea anyway because it seems that the air-conditioning in vehicles only chooses to work when its not hot, creating a shiverfest and leaving the driver with a wonderful set of odors to mask with cheap perfumes. Then there is the crowding in a bus, huddling close, but not too close to the other passengers. Funny, there are different rules for personal space, I find that people do not want to be pressed close to a soaking stranger—who knows what kinds of stuff is dripping from their frame?
Acid rain aside, I think rain has purifying elements for the soul and mind. What is about a storm that gets one thinking—is it the moodiness of the torrent that resonates with something in us? When I think back to all of the times I have been drenched it has led to some good soul searching. I remember the times when I used to walk to the university in the rain, it wasn’t a real rain, a mere drizzle by tropical standards, but the short walk was somehow cleansing. Maybe it is breathing in that wet, cold air when it has been so dry and hot for months.
I forgot about this feeling, this something, that is stirred when walking in the rain until I decided to brave the cold and wet to go pay rent because I refuse to drive a distance so short. It felt so good, so familiar, like something I had missed out on for so long.
So, I propose this. At least once in the rainy season, leave the umbrella at home. Let the elements drench your skin and let the beauty or whatever it is that strikes you, sink deeper and permeate into your being. I think we lose something when we separate ourselves from nature with our shelter and man-made things. I think that for a moment we are finally letting ourselves be vulnerable to God when we quit hiding behind the inferior things we make and let our parched souls soak up his wonder.
Rain.
We do what we can to avoid it. We have umbrellas, raincoats, ponchos, cars with windshield wipers. We cover our heads with jackets when running from the house to the car. We stay inside when it pours.
I never really cared for rain because it always hindered me from doing what I wanted to do. Or it would just make things tougher to deal with. It made me feel trapped. In Thailand if I wanted to anywhere, I had to walk down the street and find some public transportation which would mean getting wet along the way. Most Taxis reject soaking wet people and it isn’t a good idea anyway because it seems that the air-conditioning in vehicles only chooses to work when its not hot, creating a shiverfest and leaving the driver with a wonderful set of odors to mask with cheap perfumes. Then there is the crowding in a bus, huddling close, but not too close to the other passengers. Funny, there are different rules for personal space, I find that people do not want to be pressed close to a soaking stranger—who knows what kinds of stuff is dripping from their frame?
Acid rain aside, I think rain has purifying elements for the soul and mind. What is about a storm that gets one thinking—is it the moodiness of the torrent that resonates with something in us? When I think back to all of the times I have been drenched it has led to some good soul searching. I remember the times when I used to walk to the university in the rain, it wasn’t a real rain, a mere drizzle by tropical standards, but the short walk was somehow cleansing. Maybe it is breathing in that wet, cold air when it has been so dry and hot for months.
I forgot about this feeling, this something, that is stirred when walking in the rain until I decided to brave the cold and wet to go pay rent because I refuse to drive a distance so short. It felt so good, so familiar, like something I had missed out on for so long.
So, I propose this. At least once in the rainy season, leave the umbrella at home. Let the elements drench your skin and let the beauty or whatever it is that strikes you, sink deeper and permeate into your being. I think we lose something when we separate ourselves from nature with our shelter and man-made things. I think that for a moment we are finally letting ourselves be vulnerable to God when we quit hiding behind the inferior things we make and let our parched souls soak up his wonder.
train tracks
Oh, we’re in trouble
Not sure where to go
Can’t we just leave it all behind
Board the next train
With no set destination
As we nervously triumph
With the blare of its horn
You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?
The great beast fights inertia
as it pulls at the tracks
begging it to let it go
who thought this could be so freeing
when its path is determined
we’ll get off in some small town
maybe make new names
or we’ll head along some unmarked trail
You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?
Like a fish tangled in a net
Our lives twisted and caught
In a cobweb of wires and excess
Keeping us together
Or suffocating our deepest longings?
Oh we have to get out
You are not here alone
Take my hand,
Together we’re stronger
You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?
Not sure where to go
Can’t we just leave it all behind
Board the next train
With no set destination
As we nervously triumph
With the blare of its horn
You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?
The great beast fights inertia
as it pulls at the tracks
begging it to let it go
who thought this could be so freeing
when its path is determined
we’ll get off in some small town
maybe make new names
or we’ll head along some unmarked trail
You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?
Like a fish tangled in a net
Our lives twisted and caught
In a cobweb of wires and excess
Keeping us together
Or suffocating our deepest longings?
Oh we have to get out
You are not here alone
Take my hand,
Together we’re stronger
You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
flags and Nascar
I have been thinking about symbolism and the American flag. There is an entire set of etiquette in dealing with it such as it cannot touch the ground or it needs to be burned and it is always to have a light on it otherwise it is to be only flown between dawn and dusk. Most people know these things and they never really mattered to me until I was given the duty of hoisting them each day. I actually hate this responsibility because of the fear of the flag touching the ground as I attempt to attach it to the halyard.
A few weeks ago, a certain person on duty failed to fold the flags neatly after taking them down. I for one, am no patriot. I am the kind that grimaces on the fourth of July when we have to sing "Proud to be an American". Travel overseas and see the conduct of Americans or the way we are viewed and it makes you not so proud. Anyhow, I at least have the sense of respect for my country to do things right and not wad up the flag.
Just last week I was having trouble hoisting the flag due to the fact that the California flag had not been removed at night. The California flag sits below the American flag when raised, thus it was a tough task trying to put on the American flag while trying to keep the other flag from touching the ground. It was as if I needed another set of arms and hands. After a few close calls, I succeeded, very clumsily.
Later that morning a student participating in ROTC told me that while they were doing their PT, one of the officers, in a moment of pride for his country exclaimed, "Who the f*** is putting up the flag?!" This made me cringe in a moment of fear and embarassment at my feeble attempt to do things right. I guess I had not demonstrated enough pride and respect in the process to the point of offending someone proud to serve our country.
Does this seem a little extreme to you? Maybe I've just gotten a little defensive, but I think that this represents a misplacement of values. It is just a flag. Yes, it is a symbol for everything that America stands for. But it is just a flag. All of these federal regulations and the intensity of one's reaction to clumsiness says that things are out of order. Is the flag sacred? In my eyes we can fringe upon borderline idolatry. Yes, we need respect but still...
Think about it. Do we treat God's word with the same kind of respect? I see us putting it on the ground all the time. God's words...that seems pretty sacred to me, and to be putting it on the ground, what kind of disrespect is that? Not to mention for all of the people that died and fought for it to get to where it is today--in the hands of the common man in language that we can understand.
On another line of thought...what's the deal with Nascar anyway? One of my roommates was flipping through the channels and stopped there for a second. It just seems ludicrous to me in this time where there is a supposed "oil crisis" or the need for more fuels, that we sit amused watching it being guzzled up where nothing good comes of it. Black gold, just being used as cars circle for hours around a track. Waste?
All for the sake of entertainment, we waste. It occurred to me the other day that the wealthier a country, the more absurd the entertainment. I was thinking about how the US has so many t.v. shows and reality shows and game shows. Then I was thinking about how Japan is known for having random game shows that entertain us here. Why is it that we have to distract ourselves with such absurdity when the rest of the world is dealing with reality? Why the need to suspend reality?
A few weeks ago, a certain person on duty failed to fold the flags neatly after taking them down. I for one, am no patriot. I am the kind that grimaces on the fourth of July when we have to sing "Proud to be an American". Travel overseas and see the conduct of Americans or the way we are viewed and it makes you not so proud. Anyhow, I at least have the sense of respect for my country to do things right and not wad up the flag.
Just last week I was having trouble hoisting the flag due to the fact that the California flag had not been removed at night. The California flag sits below the American flag when raised, thus it was a tough task trying to put on the American flag while trying to keep the other flag from touching the ground. It was as if I needed another set of arms and hands. After a few close calls, I succeeded, very clumsily.
Later that morning a student participating in ROTC told me that while they were doing their PT, one of the officers, in a moment of pride for his country exclaimed, "Who the f*** is putting up the flag?!" This made me cringe in a moment of fear and embarassment at my feeble attempt to do things right. I guess I had not demonstrated enough pride and respect in the process to the point of offending someone proud to serve our country.
Does this seem a little extreme to you? Maybe I've just gotten a little defensive, but I think that this represents a misplacement of values. It is just a flag. Yes, it is a symbol for everything that America stands for. But it is just a flag. All of these federal regulations and the intensity of one's reaction to clumsiness says that things are out of order. Is the flag sacred? In my eyes we can fringe upon borderline idolatry. Yes, we need respect but still...
Think about it. Do we treat God's word with the same kind of respect? I see us putting it on the ground all the time. God's words...that seems pretty sacred to me, and to be putting it on the ground, what kind of disrespect is that? Not to mention for all of the people that died and fought for it to get to where it is today--in the hands of the common man in language that we can understand.
On another line of thought...what's the deal with Nascar anyway? One of my roommates was flipping through the channels and stopped there for a second. It just seems ludicrous to me in this time where there is a supposed "oil crisis" or the need for more fuels, that we sit amused watching it being guzzled up where nothing good comes of it. Black gold, just being used as cars circle for hours around a track. Waste?
All for the sake of entertainment, we waste. It occurred to me the other day that the wealthier a country, the more absurd the entertainment. I was thinking about how the US has so many t.v. shows and reality shows and game shows. Then I was thinking about how Japan is known for having random game shows that entertain us here. Why is it that we have to distract ourselves with such absurdity when the rest of the world is dealing with reality? Why the need to suspend reality?
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