Imagine walking into a government building. The stuffiness of hundreds of bodies around you waiting and waiting and waiting to be served. You walk to the front desk, grab a number, 345. Suddenly 295 is called. This is going to be a long day. As you sit and sit and wait and wait and wait you hope this time, maybe just this time, you will get what you deserve. You have gotten all your paperwork filled out properly. You made sure everything was in order, you didn't miss a beat. There was no way they could turn you around this time. They can't, not after the hours you have poured into this.
315. Your palms sweat just a little bit. Why are you nervous? There is nothing to this. This isn't some big test. This isn't the doctors, there is nothing wrong. But why the sweaty palms?
328. Closer, ever more closer to getting this whole ordeal out of the way. If you are denied, it will be the end of it. This is the 5th time you've tried, and if it is yet another loud "No" then there really is no chance of changing anyone's mind. It is always a different time, a different day, a different person, but the same answer.
344. Next up. Anxiety takes hold, what will the next 10 minutes or so mean? Will you walk away overjoyed or frustrated or angry? Will your emotions get the better of you and make you cause a scene. Will the hours of work you poured into this be shot down by some careless and heartless government employee? Or will you get what you deserve? You were always taught, work hard and you will be rewarded. You've never asked for much in life, why shouldn't you deserve this one request?
345.
You walk slowly up to the open counter, number 18. The lady sitting behind seems nice enough, if not a little disinterested. She takes your papers, gives a casual smile then looks everything over. Page by page she slowly reads, checks the documentation. She sees that every line is signed. Everything is in good order. The recommendations are there. She looks up as if to signal, yes, you are approved. She starts to grab her pen to sign the approval form. You heart begins to race. This is it. You are finally gonna make it. As her hand lazily moves back to the paper, she stops midway. Dread creeps in as she seems to realize something and the hand reverses course and replaces the pen. It then swiftly grasps a big rubber stamp and in one quick motion red lettering is branded right on top of the application.
DENIED
How? Why? You stammer out the question almost immediately, hoping for some explanation. Was it one line you forgot to sign? That can be fixed in a heartbeat. Was it one of the documents you provided? That can also be fixed in a few mere days. The recommendations, well those could take a little more time if they weren't up to "par" but after 4 attempts before you knew they were good. But it was fixable. No, the reason she gave was something out of your control. Your chance at some happiness had been denied because of something you had no say in. It wasn't because you were a woman or a man. It wasn't because you were Latino or Black. No, the government had laws protecting discrimination based on gender and race. It was because you were gay.
Should you lie, pretend to be straight just to get approved? It would be easy, but it would be a lie, and it would be conforming to what some narrow minded people in this world want you to do: be like them.
There is a serious issue in this nation that is just as important as Woman's Suffrage and the Civil Rights movement before it. Gays are not viewed as equal under the laws of our country. And yet no one seems to care. Thousands of men and women want the happiness that others can experience. They want the same rights as those around them. Yet the are ignored, called nasty things, and shot down time and time again. The nation founded on inequality, that fought wars for equal rights, and staged hundreds of protests for racial discrimination, is doing nothing for the LGBT community. Gay marriage is not an attack on religion. It is a right to every citizen in our country. And to disallow it is to attack our nation's very citizens. To discriminate when discrimination is illegal. To segregate when segregation is illegal.
If you are a citizen of the US, it is your responsibility to fight for equality for all, not just a select few in our nation. We were all lucky to come to this land, so why should others enjoy it more?
Watch This
27.11.11
20.11.11
Ms. Steaks
I don't know what is necessarily the right decision to make. I don't know if I should take option one, or defer to option two. But then option three comes along and throws things for a loop.
People always seem to have such high expectations for me. No, I am not talking about doing well professionally, being the "best I can be." Well, maybe I am. Deep down that ends up being the wishes of others with their expectations of me. And no one means wrong. And in no way am I saying I have feel overcome with pressure to perform to peoples expectations. I do feel the pressure, but I know and understand that most of it is internal - and that is healthy. It is a good drive that keeps me going, makes me progress, and moves me forward. People always say I am a leader and pioneer, and I think it comes from this drive to perform to expectations.
But a leader will, and should be able to make mistakes. And when I say leader, I don't mean when I am in a position where others necessarily look to me for direction. Even in leading my own life, where others look at me merely to observe and not follow, I will lead. And I will make mistakes. Those mistakes may come at great or small costs, and costs that affect me alone or others around me. But I will make them. Yet I seem to try and minimize my mistakes, and not in a good way. We all don't want to make mistakes. But when the fear of messing up begins to limit you there is a problem. I have started to feel affected by my own fear of doing something wrong. It limits me to a degree in how I enjoy life. I don't sit here consumed by my fears of making a mistake, but I know I am missing chances to see and experience new things. Be it a new relationship, a new trip, a new opportunity, whatever.
So here is my response to it all:
I am imperfect. I will hurt you, I will disappoint you. I will make mistakes. But from all that I will become something special. I will grow and develop into the person I was meant to be. What that is, I don't know. But I do know 40 years down the road I don't want to look back on my life and see a string of safe decisions that came at the cost of excitement, newness, and change.
People always seem to have such high expectations for me. No, I am not talking about doing well professionally, being the "best I can be." Well, maybe I am. Deep down that ends up being the wishes of others with their expectations of me. And no one means wrong. And in no way am I saying I have feel overcome with pressure to perform to peoples expectations. I do feel the pressure, but I know and understand that most of it is internal - and that is healthy. It is a good drive that keeps me going, makes me progress, and moves me forward. People always say I am a leader and pioneer, and I think it comes from this drive to perform to expectations.
But a leader will, and should be able to make mistakes. And when I say leader, I don't mean when I am in a position where others necessarily look to me for direction. Even in leading my own life, where others look at me merely to observe and not follow, I will lead. And I will make mistakes. Those mistakes may come at great or small costs, and costs that affect me alone or others around me. But I will make them. Yet I seem to try and minimize my mistakes, and not in a good way. We all don't want to make mistakes. But when the fear of messing up begins to limit you there is a problem. I have started to feel affected by my own fear of doing something wrong. It limits me to a degree in how I enjoy life. I don't sit here consumed by my fears of making a mistake, but I know I am missing chances to see and experience new things. Be it a new relationship, a new trip, a new opportunity, whatever.
So here is my response to it all:
I am imperfect. I will hurt you, I will disappoint you. I will make mistakes. But from all that I will become something special. I will grow and develop into the person I was meant to be. What that is, I don't know. But I do know 40 years down the road I don't want to look back on my life and see a string of safe decisions that came at the cost of excitement, newness, and change.
1.11.11
One By One
Public humiliation is the worst. I hate being embarrassed in front of others. That sinking feeling in your stomach, the knots that form in your throat. The quick glances you throw around the room trying to see who is staring at you.
Just yesterday on my way home from work I ran into such a moment. After waiting 45 minutes for a metro train to come (who knows why during rush hour it took that long) I precede to wait 25 minutes on a bus in Columbia Heights. I am already running late from the metro, I have a long drive ahead in traffic and I didn't just spend $1.50 to waste another 20 minutes of my life. Hell, I could have walked to Mt. Pleasant in the time it took for me to take the bus. Why? Because some woman's motorized scooter was stuck on the bus and she couldn't get off. I got angry pretty fast, mainly because she seemed like she could have walked all the way to Alexandria and been just fine. So we sat and sat while the bus driver (who was flamingly gay) tried and tried to release the scooter from its strap. We waited so long that another H4 bus arrived, the one that was supposedly 30 minutes behind. At this point a few frustrated passengers had already gotten off and started walking. I wasn't going to waste my $1.50. Okay, it was really only a buck since I had transferred from the Metro, but still...
Anyways, she sat there looking around at us all. Then one by one we all jumped up and got off to get on the one that had just arrived, leaving her alone with the bus driver. How embarrassing. Is it not already humiliating enough that she had a scooter in the first place and couldn't walk properly? No, now she had to completely stop a bus and affect 20 or so commuter's schedules. And then she had to watch us all get off the bus and go on our way while she was stuck.
And none of it was her fault. Okay, she could have watched her eating and kept herself from being so overweight. And maybe she should know that her scooter needs to be tied down another way and should have mentioned it to the bus driver. But those points are irrelevant. What is relevant is my reaction to the situation. My frustration boiled and I channeled my anger towards a woman I didn't even know. The eyes of hers that darted around the room looking for people upset we in response to me. Is she a jerk for delaying me by 20 minutes? No, I am the asshole for casting judgement. The realization hit me like a brick wall as we drove away and I glanced to my left and saw her sitting in the empty bus. Alone.
Being alone is one of my biggest fears. I don't need to be around people 24/7. I can actually be a recluse. But the threat of abandonment and the humiliation that comes with it affects me most. So I empathize with her. And I sure hope she got off that bus.
But seriously, she will be ok. She got home and awoke this morning to the brisk air slowly being warmed by the warm sunrise casting long amber and gold colors across the sky. It was a new day, and she was alright. Tomorrow is a new day. And I will be alright.
Just yesterday on my way home from work I ran into such a moment. After waiting 45 minutes for a metro train to come (who knows why during rush hour it took that long) I precede to wait 25 minutes on a bus in Columbia Heights. I am already running late from the metro, I have a long drive ahead in traffic and I didn't just spend $1.50 to waste another 20 minutes of my life. Hell, I could have walked to Mt. Pleasant in the time it took for me to take the bus. Why? Because some woman's motorized scooter was stuck on the bus and she couldn't get off. I got angry pretty fast, mainly because she seemed like she could have walked all the way to Alexandria and been just fine. So we sat and sat while the bus driver (who was flamingly gay) tried and tried to release the scooter from its strap. We waited so long that another H4 bus arrived, the one that was supposedly 30 minutes behind. At this point a few frustrated passengers had already gotten off and started walking. I wasn't going to waste my $1.50. Okay, it was really only a buck since I had transferred from the Metro, but still...
Anyways, she sat there looking around at us all. Then one by one we all jumped up and got off to get on the one that had just arrived, leaving her alone with the bus driver. How embarrassing. Is it not already humiliating enough that she had a scooter in the first place and couldn't walk properly? No, now she had to completely stop a bus and affect 20 or so commuter's schedules. And then she had to watch us all get off the bus and go on our way while she was stuck.
And none of it was her fault. Okay, she could have watched her eating and kept herself from being so overweight. And maybe she should know that her scooter needs to be tied down another way and should have mentioned it to the bus driver. But those points are irrelevant. What is relevant is my reaction to the situation. My frustration boiled and I channeled my anger towards a woman I didn't even know. The eyes of hers that darted around the room looking for people upset we in response to me. Is she a jerk for delaying me by 20 minutes? No, I am the asshole for casting judgement. The realization hit me like a brick wall as we drove away and I glanced to my left and saw her sitting in the empty bus. Alone.
Being alone is one of my biggest fears. I don't need to be around people 24/7. I can actually be a recluse. But the threat of abandonment and the humiliation that comes with it affects me most. So I empathize with her. And I sure hope she got off that bus.
But seriously, she will be ok. She got home and awoke this morning to the brisk air slowly being warmed by the warm sunrise casting long amber and gold colors across the sky. It was a new day, and she was alright. Tomorrow is a new day. And I will be alright.
24.10.11
To You My "Friend"
Fuck you.
There I said it. And no I am not talking about anyone I know when I put friend in quotes. This isn't your typical high school drama between two tweenage girls. This is a legitimate "Fuck you I am stronger because of you." Man to man. Hermano a hermano.
What you did to me Saturday night was ignorant stupid and stereotypical. I don't care that we are from the same "minority." I don't care if you are just like me in many ways. You are not me. And you don't know me. What happened was rude, cruel, and horrible all the same. You have no idea how what you did fucked me up in my head. Sure, it was nothing to you, it was a simple ordinary act. But not to ME. And that is where the problem lies. You didn't consider me in your drunk ass stupor. And you, a complete stranger, invaded my privacy in a way even people that know me have failed to do.
I went home and I cried. Not because of you. I wouldn't shed a tear over you, you two piece of shit. Not even two pieces, try one. No I cried because twice before you this was done. And it hurt. It hurt like hell. And those two times were out of malice from people I knew and maybe even slightly trusted. You opened up an old old door that was never meant to be opened again. Memories and emotions that have dictated my life for the majority of my waking life came flooding back in. And all thanks to you.
You went home, probably passed out, sobered up and woke up with a terrible hangover. But that hangover would be gone by Monday. My experience would drag out. Still is 48 hours later. Asshole. I don't know your name, I can't really remember what you look like. But I don't want to. And I am not being over dramatic. I am being real, something that what happened wasn't. Least it shouldn't have been. So fuck you. I am stronger because of what happened in my past. And while you screwed me up big time, I will move on. Stronger, better because of you.
There I said it. And no I am not talking about anyone I know when I put friend in quotes. This isn't your typical high school drama between two tweenage girls. This is a legitimate "Fuck you I am stronger because of you." Man to man. Hermano a hermano.
What you did to me Saturday night was ignorant stupid and stereotypical. I don't care that we are from the same "minority." I don't care if you are just like me in many ways. You are not me. And you don't know me. What happened was rude, cruel, and horrible all the same. You have no idea how what you did fucked me up in my head. Sure, it was nothing to you, it was a simple ordinary act. But not to ME. And that is where the problem lies. You didn't consider me in your drunk ass stupor. And you, a complete stranger, invaded my privacy in a way even people that know me have failed to do.
I went home and I cried. Not because of you. I wouldn't shed a tear over you, you two piece of shit. Not even two pieces, try one. No I cried because twice before you this was done. And it hurt. It hurt like hell. And those two times were out of malice from people I knew and maybe even slightly trusted. You opened up an old old door that was never meant to be opened again. Memories and emotions that have dictated my life for the majority of my waking life came flooding back in. And all thanks to you.
You went home, probably passed out, sobered up and woke up with a terrible hangover. But that hangover would be gone by Monday. My experience would drag out. Still is 48 hours later. Asshole. I don't know your name, I can't really remember what you look like. But I don't want to. And I am not being over dramatic. I am being real, something that what happened wasn't. Least it shouldn't have been. So fuck you. I am stronger because of what happened in my past. And while you screwed me up big time, I will move on. Stronger, better because of you.
9.10.11
My hand reaches for yours, hoping you will grasp. You do conditionally.
Why can't you just hold my hand like you used to, when I was young and frail?
Can a grown man not also be frail and weak?
No.
I want to be three, utterly dependent and naive.
Erase my mistakes, bring back my unadulterated joy.
Can I not regress to a past better than my present?
No.
Tell me things will be okay, that I am loved, I am wanted.
Show me that you see past those parts of me you don't like.
Can I be the man you want me to be?
No.
The present is as much my own as my past.
I turn to the rising sun to own another day.
Can I ever be loved again like before?
Hope.
Why can't you just hold my hand like you used to, when I was young and frail?
Can a grown man not also be frail and weak?
No.
I want to be three, utterly dependent and naive.
Erase my mistakes, bring back my unadulterated joy.
Can I not regress to a past better than my present?
No.
Tell me things will be okay, that I am loved, I am wanted.
Show me that you see past those parts of me you don't like.
Can I be the man you want me to be?
No.
The present is as much my own as my past.
I turn to the rising sun to own another day.
Can I ever be loved again like before?
Hope.
22.9.11
Re: Crude Post
Do we find something beautiful for the beauty of it, or because it is different? Or is it because it's different that makes it beautiful?
I am at a point in my life full of uncertainty and different-ness things... does that make sense? I suppose that word just cements me being stuck in a generation swallowed up in a degradation of the English language.. whatever. A good friend and family member mentioned to me a while ago that I appear to be running, trying to find something. What that is or how accurate it is, I honestly don't know. I am beginning to think it might be quite accurate.
I think a lot of my actions these past 12 months have been out of "habit." The fact is that for the last three years my life has been in nothing but a transient state. 14 countries, a trip to Houston, a trip to Boston, three different jobs in the last 9 months alone. If it isn't me running, it most certainly is my life. But is this all a form of self-defense or merely how my life is?
I'd argue both. Subconsciously I believe that constantly moving will keep people at bay. Get close, but never too close, because I will be gone before you know it. Unfortunately for a few, they fall in line with my pace, catch up, and somehow keep me still for extended periods. Suddenly when things seem to be slowing down, I stand up and begin running again. I hate it. Yet I love it. It's like a self-depricating cycle that I enjoy to some degree.
But at the same time, my life is out of control. Not necessarily in a bad way. Actually, let me rephrase that: my life has never been in my control. Again, that isn't supposed to be a bad thing. Maybe some would say that the effects of such a life are negative (reread the paragraph above) but I think for the most part, my life has been nothing but a search for beauty. For the most part my life has been nothing but a search for what is different.
I thrive in a culture unfamiliar. I make better friends with complete strangers who barely speak the same language. I understand those that come from thousands of miles away. And I get more out of life when I don't understand it. And I think that is because one major aspect to relationships is lacking in said situations: trust
I constantly search for beauty and for difference because I don't trust that what I see today will be there tomorrow. I thrive in a situation with strangers because I don't have to trust them. I trust me, and myself alone.
The title here isn't retracting what I said before. Just add this as another layer to the large cake we will call my thoughts. (Strawberries in the middle of a lemon cake with vanilla icing). Now that is beauty that will never go away :)
*fin
I am at a point in my life full of uncertainty and different-ness things... does that make sense? I suppose that word just cements me being stuck in a generation swallowed up in a degradation of the English language.. whatever. A good friend and family member mentioned to me a while ago that I appear to be running, trying to find something. What that is or how accurate it is, I honestly don't know. I am beginning to think it might be quite accurate.
I think a lot of my actions these past 12 months have been out of "habit." The fact is that for the last three years my life has been in nothing but a transient state. 14 countries, a trip to Houston, a trip to Boston, three different jobs in the last 9 months alone. If it isn't me running, it most certainly is my life. But is this all a form of self-defense or merely how my life is?
I'd argue both. Subconsciously I believe that constantly moving will keep people at bay. Get close, but never too close, because I will be gone before you know it. Unfortunately for a few, they fall in line with my pace, catch up, and somehow keep me still for extended periods. Suddenly when things seem to be slowing down, I stand up and begin running again. I hate it. Yet I love it. It's like a self-depricating cycle that I enjoy to some degree.
But at the same time, my life is out of control. Not necessarily in a bad way. Actually, let me rephrase that: my life has never been in my control. Again, that isn't supposed to be a bad thing. Maybe some would say that the effects of such a life are negative (reread the paragraph above) but I think for the most part, my life has been nothing but a search for beauty. For the most part my life has been nothing but a search for what is different.
I thrive in a culture unfamiliar. I make better friends with complete strangers who barely speak the same language. I understand those that come from thousands of miles away. And I get more out of life when I don't understand it. And I think that is because one major aspect to relationships is lacking in said situations: trust
I constantly search for beauty and for difference because I don't trust that what I see today will be there tomorrow. I thrive in a situation with strangers because I don't have to trust them. I trust me, and myself alone.
The title here isn't retracting what I said before. Just add this as another layer to the large cake we will call my thoughts. (Strawberries in the middle of a lemon cake with vanilla icing). Now that is beauty that will never go away :)
*fin
15.9.11
Beautiful Life
I love the cool breeze that fall brings this time of year. The refreshing respite from the oppressive heat of August is welcomed. I love how the haze clears and suddenly the sky is a brighter blue than it was two days before. Like someone just changed your prescription for glasses, the entire world becomes clearer. A hugh sigh is released by nature as the coolness begins to settle in.
I love the sunsets of the fall. Short, and quick, but full of color and wonder. Deep reds and oranges mix with honey yellow and bright pink fighting against the cold dark purples and blacks that begin to stretch onward into the hour. The shadows begin to grow, casting dark oblong patterns on an earth preparing for a long and deep sleep. It is peaceful and almost puts me to sleep. But not just any sleep; a deep and renewing sleep.
Fall is a time of change I used to dread. Fall meant the coming months of death and decay. Cold harsh winters with bitter cold temperatures and nothing but slumbering dead trees around. Yet it began to take on a completely different meaning for me last year. Suddenly, fall wasn't the coming of something bad, but of something good: change. Just as summer is only temporary, so is winter. And spring and fall are the flux in between, a dichotomy of fluctuations. I think because I find change so beautiful, and last fall was a drastic change for me, I find fall so beautiful. But even more so is what fall brings: winter. And for perhaps the first time in my life, I am looking forward to winter. (That'll change come mid January). The cold weather is invigorating and it reminds us that we are alive. Around us is nothing but death and slumber, but we soldier on, alive, warm, and awake. That is exciting and beautiful in and of itself. The resilience of our bodies to harsh weathers and how recognizing that can be exhilarating.
So as spring reminds us of the coming colors, smells, and growth that signifies external life, fall reminds us of the coming cold, sleep, and blandness that signifies internal life. Both are beautiful.
*fin
I love the sunsets of the fall. Short, and quick, but full of color and wonder. Deep reds and oranges mix with honey yellow and bright pink fighting against the cold dark purples and blacks that begin to stretch onward into the hour. The shadows begin to grow, casting dark oblong patterns on an earth preparing for a long and deep sleep. It is peaceful and almost puts me to sleep. But not just any sleep; a deep and renewing sleep.
Fall is a time of change I used to dread. Fall meant the coming months of death and decay. Cold harsh winters with bitter cold temperatures and nothing but slumbering dead trees around. Yet it began to take on a completely different meaning for me last year. Suddenly, fall wasn't the coming of something bad, but of something good: change. Just as summer is only temporary, so is winter. And spring and fall are the flux in between, a dichotomy of fluctuations. I think because I find change so beautiful, and last fall was a drastic change for me, I find fall so beautiful. But even more so is what fall brings: winter. And for perhaps the first time in my life, I am looking forward to winter. (That'll change come mid January). The cold weather is invigorating and it reminds us that we are alive. Around us is nothing but death and slumber, but we soldier on, alive, warm, and awake. That is exciting and beautiful in and of itself. The resilience of our bodies to harsh weathers and how recognizing that can be exhilarating.
So as spring reminds us of the coming colors, smells, and growth that signifies external life, fall reminds us of the coming cold, sleep, and blandness that signifies internal life. Both are beautiful.
*fin
13.9.11
Caution: CRUDE post
WARNING: If you think Sarah Palin is God, then disregard this post. Block it from your memory like Catholics do with homosexuality and pedophilia. BUT if you want an open honest confession of emotion, read on. Don't say I didn't warn you.
It is quite possible the reason this post will make no sense is that my thoughts right now are really scattered and confusing. On one end, I want to write some philosophically ground-breaking post with some political stigma thrown in along with a pinch of sarcasm. While, on the other, I want to spoon in some "I don't care" and add a dash of, well quite frankly.. fuck you (sorry for the french)
The fact is that I am my own culprit. And it is only I that has put me into this predicament. It has made my life quite interesting these last few weeks. I get short bursts of extreme passion for the most random crap. Just today I burst into a tirade against Rick Perry (who is a COMPLETE idiot.. see? it is coming back!) on the train. My dad, dismayed by such a public outcry occurring on the train sort of passively tried to reign me in. But not more than a minute later, I would have rather shoveled horse shit than talk about him (Perry that is, how dare you think I'd talk about my father that way!). It is sort of a compulsive burst of passion that fluctuates as much as Obama's stance on.. anything (well maybe more John Kerry, Obama can't seem to make a stance at all).
For a whopping two weeks I was so passionate about metro escalators. If you want to RIDE the escalator, you use the RIGHT. If you want to WALK up the escalator, you use the LEFT. I would never say anything or awkwardly poke people's bodies in a non-subtle way, but it would enflame my mind with anger towards tourism, the federal government, and fried plantains. Yet today, as I was getting bumped and hit by people literally sprinting to the escalator to get there first, I slowed down. Slllloooowwweeeed dooooowwwwnnnn.
Some days it is as if I am a ticking time bomb, good or bad (poor guy at McDonald's this morning, whom I should be thanking in that his mistake kept me from consuming 1 trillion calories but I instead chewed out for giving me bacon instead of sausage. I fucking hate bacon). Non-profits should just pay for me as a consultant for 3 hrs and then hire a PR team for the next 3 to defend themselves from me.
Am I bipolar? How about, am I rude? Yes. But bipolar? No. I am just a complex person. I have emotions too. Be nice to me.
What was the point of such an obnoxious, inappropriate post? I am being true, I am being honest, I am being real. Hell, that is what you signed up for by coming here. I am done with the fake. Done with the flake. Done with the rude. It is ironic that people call me that all the time, because the fact is that I am just real, just being me. No I am not an asshole about it. But apparently I still come off rude and flakey. I think it has more to do with them than with me: it is an inward focus on a desire to feel good about yourself (what a parasitic way to look at any relationship...). I don't want to pretend to like you. I want to really like you. I don't want to pretend that we are friends. I want to be friends. But if it isn't working, I won't try and pretend it is. I can only be as real as I am. You must be real too. And until you can post something like this, I don't think we can ever be friends.
*********DISCLAIMER**********
Oh snap, a lot of you will disagree with this. Most will probably think one of the following:
1) What an asshole
2) What a young asshole
3) What a young naive asshole
4) What a prick
Well then you totally missed the point of this post. I wasn't trying to offend anyone. I will. I have to admit the post was a tad inappropriate. But for those of you that are upset and offended, I beg you to answer this question:
What sort of thoughts have you had before you haven't shared with anyone because they were rude, inappropriate, or just plain nasty?
*fin
*fin
5.9.11
Hidden motives + protection
You ever walk down the street just people watching? I love to people watch. Seeing the different shades of colors in skin, the styles of clothing that speak volumes about one's life. Take the girl that dyes her hair some god-forsaken color. Her desire to be noticed is also her desire to keep distance between anyone. The boy with the skinny jeans and the torn t-shirt, sunglasses positioned amongst his ruffled hair? Does it really imply he doesn't care about his appearance, or in his attempt to not care he ends up caring more than most? Are those two holding hands because they are in love? Or do they feel the pressure to find someone significant to cling to? Why does that boy wear the cardigan from Forever 21, with heels, lipstick, and a nice fake pearl necklace? Does he truly feel like a she? Or is he starving for the attention that comes with cross dressing?
Am I really writing these posts because I feel I can change the world with my narrow perspective? Or do I do it merely because I can post them on Facebook and wait for some public praise by a friend who is really only doing it out of obligation for the friendship, when deep down they could really give a crap.
This post seems so disillusioned and depressed. I assure it is not. Rather, I ask that we take time to find out our motives in life. Why do we do the things we do? Most likely, the first answer that comes to mind when we ask ourselves is not going to be the true response. Truth lies in the heart, and the heart is a deceitful being. Not necessarily in a bad way, more in a protective way.
I believe a lot of our choices aren't our own. Sure, they come from us, but do we actively understand why we make the choices we make? No. And we shouldn't pretend to either. But then we also shouldn't begin to judge others based off the decisions they make. No, I am not talking about good, close family and friends that make poor decisions. By all means, call them out. But when you see someone pass by on the street and they aren't dressed the way you are, it isn't wrong. It isn't right. And you have no idea why they made that decision to dress that way. Much so they most likely don't know the true reasoning behind it.
A personal example where I do know the true reasoning behind it. I have four or five very close friends, then hundreds of what I would call "acquaintances." Unfortunately, most people don't see it that way. They see me as a good friend and end up being greatly disappointed by me. Many just think I am a complete jerk who is inconsiderate of others. The fact is that I trust few. And had those people taken the time to get to know me, learn of my past and understand why I don't trust people, then the ugly situations we find ourselves in wouldn't have occurred.
Again, this is not supposed to be some negative post. Rather, I just plead with you all, when you see someone make a decision, be it a stranger or friend, and be it an action or a choice, before you cast judgement, take time to learn more about that person. You may find out why they did what they did, and not only will you avoid conflict, but you may just further a relationship.
*fin
Am I really writing these posts because I feel I can change the world with my narrow perspective? Or do I do it merely because I can post them on Facebook and wait for some public praise by a friend who is really only doing it out of obligation for the friendship, when deep down they could really give a crap.
This post seems so disillusioned and depressed. I assure it is not. Rather, I ask that we take time to find out our motives in life. Why do we do the things we do? Most likely, the first answer that comes to mind when we ask ourselves is not going to be the true response. Truth lies in the heart, and the heart is a deceitful being. Not necessarily in a bad way, more in a protective way.
I believe a lot of our choices aren't our own. Sure, they come from us, but do we actively understand why we make the choices we make? No. And we shouldn't pretend to either. But then we also shouldn't begin to judge others based off the decisions they make. No, I am not talking about good, close family and friends that make poor decisions. By all means, call them out. But when you see someone pass by on the street and they aren't dressed the way you are, it isn't wrong. It isn't right. And you have no idea why they made that decision to dress that way. Much so they most likely don't know the true reasoning behind it.
A personal example where I do know the true reasoning behind it. I have four or five very close friends, then hundreds of what I would call "acquaintances." Unfortunately, most people don't see it that way. They see me as a good friend and end up being greatly disappointed by me. Many just think I am a complete jerk who is inconsiderate of others. The fact is that I trust few. And had those people taken the time to get to know me, learn of my past and understand why I don't trust people, then the ugly situations we find ourselves in wouldn't have occurred.
Again, this is not supposed to be some negative post. Rather, I just plead with you all, when you see someone make a decision, be it a stranger or friend, and be it an action or a choice, before you cast judgement, take time to learn more about that person. You may find out why they did what they did, and not only will you avoid conflict, but you may just further a relationship.
*fin
29.6.11
Grant - Young Adult #3
If I had to big a topic for dinner discussion, Calvinism vs. Arminianism wouldn't be the topic of choice. Yet somehow my brother and mine's conversation landed on the topic. Do we really have free will? Or did God or some all powerful being set our entire lives out in some predetermined fashion? Or is it both?
Do we really have that much freedom in our lives? Please, go tell a 35 year old Dominican woman with 4 children, barely scraping by, that it was by her choice that she is in the position that she is in. Or tell a homosexual that he chose the sexual attractions he feels, the attractions that aren't the norm, that are hotly contested, that no one "wants." Rude? Offensive? Yes.
Did I chose to live in a country that has so much debt and politicians on two sides to arrogant to be right that nothing gets done to solve said debt problem? No. Did I choose to live in a country with Islamaphobia that seeps through the most conservative of hearts (and yet how is that a conservative emotion/fear?)? No. These were not choices I made. Yet here I am, in that country, and now I must adapt to it.
The point here being that it is ignorant to think that our destinies are determined. But it is also a folly to believe that we have the power over our destiny. I think God does. But I think it is indirect. He doesn't watch me every day, moving pieces and pawns into place. Rather, he has created the universe, with it's science of laws and theories, and people's, with independent minds and moral values, that I interact with on a daily basis. They influence my decisions, they keep me from making decisions, they also make decisions for me. It isn't like I have no control over life. But it is so limited in scope.
So rather then decide what theory is correct, understand that we are small feeble characters in this large one act production of humanity. Not at the will of the writer himself, but at the setting, characters, and plot he created.
*fin
Do we really have that much freedom in our lives? Please, go tell a 35 year old Dominican woman with 4 children, barely scraping by, that it was by her choice that she is in the position that she is in. Or tell a homosexual that he chose the sexual attractions he feels, the attractions that aren't the norm, that are hotly contested, that no one "wants." Rude? Offensive? Yes.
Did I chose to live in a country that has so much debt and politicians on two sides to arrogant to be right that nothing gets done to solve said debt problem? No. Did I choose to live in a country with Islamaphobia that seeps through the most conservative of hearts (and yet how is that a conservative emotion/fear?)? No. These were not choices I made. Yet here I am, in that country, and now I must adapt to it.
The point here being that it is ignorant to think that our destinies are determined. But it is also a folly to believe that we have the power over our destiny. I think God does. But I think it is indirect. He doesn't watch me every day, moving pieces and pawns into place. Rather, he has created the universe, with it's science of laws and theories, and people's, with independent minds and moral values, that I interact with on a daily basis. They influence my decisions, they keep me from making decisions, they also make decisions for me. It isn't like I have no control over life. But it is so limited in scope.
So rather then decide what theory is correct, understand that we are small feeble characters in this large one act production of humanity. Not at the will of the writer himself, but at the setting, characters, and plot he created.
*fin
26.6.11
Solar Control
We assume that the sun is to rise each morning. In fact, we can even go onto weather.com and find the exact time the sun will rise today, tomorrow, and the next 10 days. Brilliant. We also assume that the sun is going to set each evening, again with exact times for the next 10 days.
But is the sun going to rise tomorrow? Or will we be left in eternal darkness for the next millennia? Something we are so dependent on, we have such little control over. We need the sun for everything we do, literally nothing is without a need for the sun. Our very existence is dependent on it rising and setting rhythmically each day, season, and year. How powerless we are.
How powerless I am.
I am feeble, narrow-minded, and utterly powerless in my life. As are you. And you. And you. We depend on the sun. We depend on the Metro running on time. We depend on a government to tend to us and protect us. We depend on our minds to tell us and command us. We depend on the millions of farmers in this world to provide us with proper produce. So who am I then to make decisions, demands, or even wishes? Please, I can't even control one simple part of my life. And it isn't like my life is spinning out of control. Rather, it is almost comforting to realize just how weak I am. I am utterly powerless and as such, need to go about my life in such a way. A manner of respect and humility. And a heck of a lot more good comes from that than anything else. We don't try to control the sun, because we know we can't. And look at how good things have worked out between us and the sun for the past few millions of years? :)
If we can't control the sun, then why do we like to try to control our lives? I am moving forward today and will approach each situation with this reminder: I cannot control the sun. I cannot control the sun. I cannot control the sun.
But is the sun going to rise tomorrow? Or will we be left in eternal darkness for the next millennia? Something we are so dependent on, we have such little control over. We need the sun for everything we do, literally nothing is without a need for the sun. Our very existence is dependent on it rising and setting rhythmically each day, season, and year. How powerless we are.
How powerless I am.
I am feeble, narrow-minded, and utterly powerless in my life. As are you. And you. And you. We depend on the sun. We depend on the Metro running on time. We depend on a government to tend to us and protect us. We depend on our minds to tell us and command us. We depend on the millions of farmers in this world to provide us with proper produce. So who am I then to make decisions, demands, or even wishes? Please, I can't even control one simple part of my life. And it isn't like my life is spinning out of control. Rather, it is almost comforting to realize just how weak I am. I am utterly powerless and as such, need to go about my life in such a way. A manner of respect and humility. And a heck of a lot more good comes from that than anything else. We don't try to control the sun, because we know we can't. And look at how good things have worked out between us and the sun for the past few millions of years? :)
If we can't control the sun, then why do we like to try to control our lives? I am moving forward today and will approach each situation with this reminder: I cannot control the sun. I cannot control the sun. I cannot control the sun.
9.6.11
Cookie crumbs and fortune
I hate Chinese food. Beyond being ripped off of $60 as a poor volunteer in the Dominican Republic last food over Chinese food, I really don't like the taste of it. Peanuts with chicken? Is this a mad mix of McDonald's and Camden Yards? But in all seriousness, it isn't my favorite food. I enjoy it occasionally, but if I had a choice there are other foods that I would choose (German, Mexican, Thai, Italian, Greek). But this isn't a post about my palette. It is a post about the randomness of God and Chinese food.
I received a message from God in a fortune cookie.
Random? Yes. Chances are slim I would be found in a Chinese restaurant. Even more slim it would be in downtown DC. And even more slim that the very cookie I choose out of four, from an order of probably hundreds that came from a factory that probably produces millions, has a "fortune" that actually applies to me. Sure it was as generic as my daily horoscope that I don't follow. But it hit me like a brick wall. Nah, make it titanium.
I have only shared it with a select few, but the message itself isn't important. What is important is this. I have been begging and asking and whining for a sign from God. Some sort of nod of the direction I should be taking. I have prayed and been diligent about waiting for a sign. Nothing for two months. Then, of all places, as I swallow the last lump of soggy fortune cookie down, I turn over the white slip of paper and get that message I was hoping would come through a, ummm, much more pronounced way.
It was a simple message, one really anyone would normally crumple and throw away. It wasn't a prophecy from a crazed, toothless man that hasn't showered in months. I didn't get it in tongues , nor did a lightning bolt come and strike me. Some dumb piece of paper that appears so insignificant, so meek. A blink and it is gone. View life as a large river, one massive movement forward. But inside this river are millions of strands or streams. Many are large and ever noticeable. Others are small and seemingly insignificant. God works through the small strands. Ironically enough while it seems as though those large currents carry all the weight and force, the reality is it is those small tiny strands, when moved in the right ways, that influence the entire course of the river. We need to stop looking towards those large strands and focus on the smaller bits and pieces. That is where true work is occurring. The excitement is there, not in the big powerful currents. Trust me, a life altering message came to me amongst the crumbs of a eaten fortune cookie in a Chinese restaurant that has replaced six before it and will probably be replaced by another in a few months. Minuscule, yet life changing.
I received a message from God in a fortune cookie.
Random? Yes. Chances are slim I would be found in a Chinese restaurant. Even more slim it would be in downtown DC. And even more slim that the very cookie I choose out of four, from an order of probably hundreds that came from a factory that probably produces millions, has a "fortune" that actually applies to me. Sure it was as generic as my daily horoscope that I don't follow. But it hit me like a brick wall. Nah, make it titanium.
I have only shared it with a select few, but the message itself isn't important. What is important is this. I have been begging and asking and whining for a sign from God. Some sort of nod of the direction I should be taking. I have prayed and been diligent about waiting for a sign. Nothing for two months. Then, of all places, as I swallow the last lump of soggy fortune cookie down, I turn over the white slip of paper and get that message I was hoping would come through a, ummm, much more pronounced way.
It was a simple message, one really anyone would normally crumple and throw away. It wasn't a prophecy from a crazed, toothless man that hasn't showered in months. I didn't get it in tongues , nor did a lightning bolt come and strike me. Some dumb piece of paper that appears so insignificant, so meek. A blink and it is gone. View life as a large river, one massive movement forward. But inside this river are millions of strands or streams. Many are large and ever noticeable. Others are small and seemingly insignificant. God works through the small strands. Ironically enough while it seems as though those large currents carry all the weight and force, the reality is it is those small tiny strands, when moved in the right ways, that influence the entire course of the river. We need to stop looking towards those large strands and focus on the smaller bits and pieces. That is where true work is occurring. The excitement is there, not in the big powerful currents. Trust me, a life altering message came to me amongst the crumbs of a eaten fortune cookie in a Chinese restaurant that has replaced six before it and will probably be replaced by another in a few months. Minuscule, yet life changing.
1.6.11
Fluid
Struggle. Push. Shove. Fight.
All actions I want to commit at this time. I am restless. I am frustrated. I am confused. I just want certainty in my life. Tomorrow hasn't come, but tomorrow is unknown to me, and that bothers me. The sun may have set, but the shadows seem as if they will remain well past the sunrise tomorrow morning. Isn't that uncomfortable for anyone? Who likes walking along in the dark anyways?
If it is any consolation to me, I am amongst probably 90% of the world's population. I really question whether anyone really has total certainty to their life. You may have that nice paying job now. You may have the wonderful girlfriend, the best friend, the perfect family. But how much certainty is their in all that. No, I am not talking about some horrible event upheaving your entire life. I am merely pointing out the fluidity of life. It takes a shape, then molds again, barely holding it's form before another rapid transformation. It can be so fast paced nay a blink of an eye can catch it. Or it can be painstaking slow, the eyes burning as they watch, wide, waiting patiently for the change to occur.
Either way, it scares me. To know just how fluid life is: How it changes, how it molds, how it disappears and yet will reappear in another figure or form. I want to fight against it. Hell, I want to mold it into something I can understand or comprehend. But each time I grab it, it flows right through my fingers. The shape it once had ruined by my desire to control it. It billows out, stretches, as if to avoid my touch at all. It is clear, perfectly clear like a crystal. There is nothing to it, yet so much contained inside of it. It shows my reflection, whether I want it to or not, my face ripples through it's ever changing facets. It warps my figure, just as it warps itself.
And it scares me. But I dare not touch it. For touching it, as I have learned in the past, is far worse than the unknown that comes with the fluidity of life itself. Rather, I am patient. I wait and I too become fluid. I adapt to the very changing object we call life. Suddenly I am changing along with it, moving in and out like the perfect dance partner. Until I don't recognize myself as I did once before. Suddenly life takes a shape that allows a glimpse back at myself. And I realize how much I have changed since I last glanced before, be it two years, two weeks, or two days.
That isn't scary. It is beautiful. But I can be scared of beauty. I should be scared of beauty.
All actions I want to commit at this time. I am restless. I am frustrated. I am confused. I just want certainty in my life. Tomorrow hasn't come, but tomorrow is unknown to me, and that bothers me. The sun may have set, but the shadows seem as if they will remain well past the sunrise tomorrow morning. Isn't that uncomfortable for anyone? Who likes walking along in the dark anyways?
If it is any consolation to me, I am amongst probably 90% of the world's population. I really question whether anyone really has total certainty to their life. You may have that nice paying job now. You may have the wonderful girlfriend, the best friend, the perfect family. But how much certainty is their in all that. No, I am not talking about some horrible event upheaving your entire life. I am merely pointing out the fluidity of life. It takes a shape, then molds again, barely holding it's form before another rapid transformation. It can be so fast paced nay a blink of an eye can catch it. Or it can be painstaking slow, the eyes burning as they watch, wide, waiting patiently for the change to occur.
Either way, it scares me. To know just how fluid life is: How it changes, how it molds, how it disappears and yet will reappear in another figure or form. I want to fight against it. Hell, I want to mold it into something I can understand or comprehend. But each time I grab it, it flows right through my fingers. The shape it once had ruined by my desire to control it. It billows out, stretches, as if to avoid my touch at all. It is clear, perfectly clear like a crystal. There is nothing to it, yet so much contained inside of it. It shows my reflection, whether I want it to or not, my face ripples through it's ever changing facets. It warps my figure, just as it warps itself.
And it scares me. But I dare not touch it. For touching it, as I have learned in the past, is far worse than the unknown that comes with the fluidity of life itself. Rather, I am patient. I wait and I too become fluid. I adapt to the very changing object we call life. Suddenly I am changing along with it, moving in and out like the perfect dance partner. Until I don't recognize myself as I did once before. Suddenly life takes a shape that allows a glimpse back at myself. And I realize how much I have changed since I last glanced before, be it two years, two weeks, or two days.
That isn't scary. It is beautiful. But I can be scared of beauty. I should be scared of beauty.
25.5.11
Rocket Trip
I am having some trouble. This will be my first summer that I am not doing anything... different. I hesitate to say fun or adventurous for fear that nothing will happen this summer. But sadly, I am not off to a monastery for 10 weeks, galavanting around Europe for three months, or living in Santiago for the summer. Nope, I am here back in plain old Maryland with a plan white cubicle and a plain repetitive job...
Boring?
I should think not. Rather, I think I am going to use this time to decompress, to expand my boundaries, and learn more about me at home. One can learn a lot abroad. It stretches you, molds you, and certainly transforms. But really, once all that change has happened, you then need to find out who you are. I am not going to lie, I am lost. And I have been for three years. So much has happened to me in such a condensed time period that I feel overwhelmed. In fact, I don't even really know who I am anymore. No, I don't mean that in the typical non-sensical way. I think I have had so much happen to me over the past few years that I haven't had time to process it all. So I will use this time to cut, copy, paste, rewind, fast forward, edit, control+click my through 15 countries, 100+ hours of prayer, and two jobs.
Step 1) Stop doing things. My weekends will be ebbs and flows of inactivity. I am not going to make an effort to do drastic activities (this being said after a weekend in Houston and one in Boston for Memorial Day).
Step 2) Reconnect with those close to me. I have lost contact with many good friends and I need to reengage them on a new level. My travels have blessed me with so many new contacts, and I cannot let those fall away.
Step 3) Me time. Time for me to do simple things I enjoy. Time for me to do activities that I enjoy, that dust off my senses and creativity. This will be hard.
Step 4) Pray. I've lost me. I need to find me. But I cannot find him without God. = Prayer.
The words of Owl City seem appropriate for my situation.
"Where was I when the rockets came to life, and carried you away?"
Those rockets took me on a journey, but I need to unite me on Earth, and me that took that adventure.
*Fin>
Boring?
I should think not. Rather, I think I am going to use this time to decompress, to expand my boundaries, and learn more about me at home. One can learn a lot abroad. It stretches you, molds you, and certainly transforms. But really, once all that change has happened, you then need to find out who you are. I am not going to lie, I am lost. And I have been for three years. So much has happened to me in such a condensed time period that I feel overwhelmed. In fact, I don't even really know who I am anymore. No, I don't mean that in the typical non-sensical way. I think I have had so much happen to me over the past few years that I haven't had time to process it all. So I will use this time to cut, copy, paste, rewind, fast forward, edit, control+click my through 15 countries, 100+ hours of prayer, and two jobs.
Step 1) Stop doing things. My weekends will be ebbs and flows of inactivity. I am not going to make an effort to do drastic activities (this being said after a weekend in Houston and one in Boston for Memorial Day).
Step 2) Reconnect with those close to me. I have lost contact with many good friends and I need to reengage them on a new level. My travels have blessed me with so many new contacts, and I cannot let those fall away.
Step 3) Me time. Time for me to do simple things I enjoy. Time for me to do activities that I enjoy, that dust off my senses and creativity. This will be hard.
Step 4) Pray. I've lost me. I need to find me. But I cannot find him without God. = Prayer.
The words of Owl City seem appropriate for my situation.
"Where was I when the rockets came to life, and carried you away?"
Those rockets took me on a journey, but I need to unite me on Earth, and me that took that adventure.
*Fin>
18.5.11
Lights
I feel like I am in the middle of a mid life crises right now, yet it has nothing to do with me. Why? Let's see...
$4.02 a gallon for gas
The Arabic Spring occurring
Tsunami in Japan
Earthquake in New Zealand
Osama Bin Laden murdered
Oh, and people proclaiming the world is going to end on May 21, 2011
So many events out of my control, and they don't really affect me. Yet here I stress: my finances worry me, my living situation sometimes bothers me, my relationships don't satisfy me, and my wants greatly outsize my needs. Let's put things into perspective and realize who I am.
I am but a light on a string of hundreds. No thousands.
Millions.
Flickering, shining bright, growing dull, fighting for power, working together.
If I go out, the string stays lit. But I am important, yet so small.
All too often I get tangled with other lights. Knots form that take time to unravel. I am one shade of a spectrum of different lights and colors.
Despite all this. I am a light, dim or bright, in this darkness. In all we hear today I am a light. As many of you are. As some of you should be. And as some of you were. I am a light.
$4.02 a gallon for gas
The Arabic Spring occurring
Tsunami in Japan
Earthquake in New Zealand
Osama Bin Laden murdered
Oh, and people proclaiming the world is going to end on May 21, 2011
So many events out of my control, and they don't really affect me. Yet here I stress: my finances worry me, my living situation sometimes bothers me, my relationships don't satisfy me, and my wants greatly outsize my needs. Let's put things into perspective and realize who I am.
I am but a light on a string of hundreds. No thousands.
Millions.
Flickering, shining bright, growing dull, fighting for power, working together.
If I go out, the string stays lit. But I am important, yet so small.
All too often I get tangled with other lights. Knots form that take time to unravel. I am one shade of a spectrum of different lights and colors.
Despite all this. I am a light, dim or bright, in this darkness. In all we hear today I am a light. As many of you are. As some of you should be. And as some of you were. I am a light.
Hello
Today was a very bad day for the human race. If human interactions were graded, and I was the honored professor, I'd give us a D+, but only because I hope things get better. To start off, I had a jerk on the highway who couldn't stand going just 10 mph over. You'd swear, with the way people drive you wouldn't know gas was $3.99 a gallon. (FYI, I am a big proponent of more taxes on oil usage) There is just something ironic about a Toyota Prius cruising down the highway at 75 mph.... Do you drive that car to be green? Or so you can drive fast and feel better about it?
Then during work, I spoke to a man that chose to use derogatory and racially charged comments towards another coworker of mine. The ignorance and selfishness of some people just amazes me. Finally on my way home, and woman decided I wasn't going fast enough again and chose to be within 10 inches of my bumper going 65. Sweet.
And so the anger from all day boiled as I got off the highway and tried to race home, hungry and tired. I kept processing all the frustrating events of the day as I turned into my development. I get this amazing view of the rest of my country from the top of the development. On clear days I can see straight to the District, and many times if is a beautiful sight. Today I hardly noticed it as I downshifted to give myself more power to get home as soon as I could to hide away from the frustrations of this world. I had a cd playing Martin Solveig's track Hello as I turned the corner. There to my right was a child, no older than 4 riding a Playskool bike, bright red, blue and yellow, around his driveway. He stopped as he saw me, staring at this complete stranger. Suddenly his fat thick hand raised into the air and opened up, palm towards me, and he waved. He waved, saying hello which I could only make out from his lips.
Me? A complete stranger. Certainly there is the sweetness of the innocence of this child. But more so, he reflects the inner character so many, if not all, of us lose moving into adulthood. It struck me to the core. And while I can't control other's actions, I can control mine.
So I too will be that child. I raise my thick fat arm into the air. My grubby hand is as high as I can reach it, I open it up, and I wave hello to you, my friend. And to you, my stranger. Hello.
Then during work, I spoke to a man that chose to use derogatory and racially charged comments towards another coworker of mine. The ignorance and selfishness of some people just amazes me. Finally on my way home, and woman decided I wasn't going fast enough again and chose to be within 10 inches of my bumper going 65. Sweet.
And so the anger from all day boiled as I got off the highway and tried to race home, hungry and tired. I kept processing all the frustrating events of the day as I turned into my development. I get this amazing view of the rest of my country from the top of the development. On clear days I can see straight to the District, and many times if is a beautiful sight. Today I hardly noticed it as I downshifted to give myself more power to get home as soon as I could to hide away from the frustrations of this world. I had a cd playing Martin Solveig's track Hello as I turned the corner. There to my right was a child, no older than 4 riding a Playskool bike, bright red, blue and yellow, around his driveway. He stopped as he saw me, staring at this complete stranger. Suddenly his fat thick hand raised into the air and opened up, palm towards me, and he waved. He waved, saying hello which I could only make out from his lips.
Me? A complete stranger. Certainly there is the sweetness of the innocence of this child. But more so, he reflects the inner character so many, if not all, of us lose moving into adulthood. It struck me to the core. And while I can't control other's actions, I can control mine.
So I too will be that child. I raise my thick fat arm into the air. My grubby hand is as high as I can reach it, I open it up, and I wave hello to you, my friend. And to you, my stranger. Hello.
Stupid stupid blogger!
My last two or three posts never posted and have been deleted! I guess that is what you get with free services.
Hence why I don't like Google. Who KEEPS asking for more of my personal information so I don't ever lose access to my account... Is that REALLY why?....
Hence why I don't like Google. Who KEEPS asking for more of my personal information so I don't ever lose access to my account... Is that REALLY why?....
8.5.11
Complications
What do I want to do? As if deciding what college to go to, what major to study, what to do with my spare time in this four years weren't hard enough decisions...
I have been out of college for a 16 months now and it really wasn't until now that the true actuality of graduation hit me. In all honest, I have been focused merely on the here and now these past 16 months. The internship in the Dominican Republic was an almost last minute thing. As was Ghana. I then sort of fell back into work at a local farm until chance had it I came across a temp job with a regulatory agency. Time has finally slowed down for me, and for the first time in 5 years I have had the same lifestyle and consistency for more than 3 months. Crazy huh?
But that consistency has slowly begun to bother me. Because now I am able to look further and see what lies ahead. Before, I certainly made choices, but it was as if the choices were just 60-70 different railroad tracks I could have dicerned between. Now, rather than tracks, it is as if I have nothing but a wide open field that rolls into mountains, valleys, beaches, oceans, and more. I can do anything I want. I can make a choice and it is my own. I have never had such independence before. and it honestly excites me more than anything. Granted I am sitting here overwhelmed with trying to begin to piece together a plan for my life. And I think perhaps the most exhilarating thing of all is that there really isn't a plan. My life up until the age of 18 was careful calculations. I did the ordinary, I blended in, and I succeeded at what I did, even if what I did was casual and of the norm. Suddenly I turned 18, and to say the least, in the last four years I have toured all of Europe, lived in the Dominican Republic, devoted an entire summer to a house of prayer, visited Africa, and made good friends in Holland. None of that could be planned. It happened with precision and thought, but it most certainly was not planned. And so what is exciting about this place in my life is just how open I have become to doing something different. Something outside the norm. Traveling somewhere. Pushing myself into difficult situations, struggling with hardships that don't involve life here in the US. Learning new languages. Eating new foods. Finding loneliness and ending up finding happiness out of loneliness by meeting new people. Exploring new ideas and theories.
And all of this, a wealth of opportunity, a dichotomy of change, and power of tranformation right in front of me. Confusing? Yes, the potential for all of this in so many differnt possibilities is certainly overwhelming and confusing. But it is exciting. It is something I can look forward to. Because in all honesty, I hate my job right now. Not because of the job itself. But because of the mundanity, the repetition, the familiarity. I thought I'd never say this, but I thrive in different. In complexity. In strangeness. It is where I belong. And so it is where I will go. Out into that field of opportunity, with no set tacks, just openness begging for a new way to be forged. And one that is all my own.
I have been out of college for a 16 months now and it really wasn't until now that the true actuality of graduation hit me. In all honest, I have been focused merely on the here and now these past 16 months. The internship in the Dominican Republic was an almost last minute thing. As was Ghana. I then sort of fell back into work at a local farm until chance had it I came across a temp job with a regulatory agency. Time has finally slowed down for me, and for the first time in 5 years I have had the same lifestyle and consistency for more than 3 months. Crazy huh?
But that consistency has slowly begun to bother me. Because now I am able to look further and see what lies ahead. Before, I certainly made choices, but it was as if the choices were just 60-70 different railroad tracks I could have dicerned between. Now, rather than tracks, it is as if I have nothing but a wide open field that rolls into mountains, valleys, beaches, oceans, and more. I can do anything I want. I can make a choice and it is my own. I have never had such independence before. and it honestly excites me more than anything. Granted I am sitting here overwhelmed with trying to begin to piece together a plan for my life. And I think perhaps the most exhilarating thing of all is that there really isn't a plan. My life up until the age of 18 was careful calculations. I did the ordinary, I blended in, and I succeeded at what I did, even if what I did was casual and of the norm. Suddenly I turned 18, and to say the least, in the last four years I have toured all of Europe, lived in the Dominican Republic, devoted an entire summer to a house of prayer, visited Africa, and made good friends in Holland. None of that could be planned. It happened with precision and thought, but it most certainly was not planned. And so what is exciting about this place in my life is just how open I have become to doing something different. Something outside the norm. Traveling somewhere. Pushing myself into difficult situations, struggling with hardships that don't involve life here in the US. Learning new languages. Eating new foods. Finding loneliness and ending up finding happiness out of loneliness by meeting new people. Exploring new ideas and theories.
And all of this, a wealth of opportunity, a dichotomy of change, and power of tranformation right in front of me. Confusing? Yes, the potential for all of this in so many differnt possibilities is certainly overwhelming and confusing. But it is exciting. It is something I can look forward to. Because in all honesty, I hate my job right now. Not because of the job itself. But because of the mundanity, the repetition, the familiarity. I thought I'd never say this, but I thrive in different. In complexity. In strangeness. It is where I belong. And so it is where I will go. Out into that field of opportunity, with no set tacks, just openness begging for a new way to be forged. And one that is all my own.
5.5.11
Reaction in Peace
I feel like a broken record sometimes on here. I think I need to change things up.
I mourn the death of Osama Bin Laden. As evil as a man as his actions may portray, he was still human being. He was still created in the same manner as I, and he is no different than me. His wrongdoings have cause no more harm than my own in the eyes of my creator. And yet thousands relish in his demise. His passing is celebrated. I regret that his life was taken and moreover I regret in the manner that it occurred. Yet on top of all of this, there has been no outcry about the injustice served to him.
He did not deserve to die any more than you or I deserve punsihment until death. Our waste, our gossip, our lust is no better than the act of designing a plan and instigating motions to murder 3,000 innocent victims. On a daily basis hundreds die of starvation and war, terror and natural disaster. And yet how much are we, Americans (or Westerners for that matter) mourning their loss or attempting to stop their downfall? We are guilty just as much as the next for our inaction. And yet our apathetic behavior is never brought to justice.
How many of us have felt the rage that could kill 3,000? Few in this country. I am not justifying Bin Laden or Al Queda's actions. But I am saying that few Westerners could understand the source of his anger, or the extent of it. And yet we take his life the moment we can. If it isn't clear by now, I am a pacifist. And I wonder how any Christian could not call themselves a pacifist. We groan and mourn at the loss of 3,000 lives and how do we respond? Invade countries, fight and kill, and ultimately become the very enemy we are fighting. Are we any better than this terrorists? No. We believe we are just as justified as they are. So who is right? Neither. For neither fight with peace. Actions of anger, hatred, revenge, and hurt take control when rather actions of forgiveness, reconciliation, and peace should command our decisions.
I applaud Obama on his decision to not release photos of Osama's body. And to you Mrs. Palin, stop "pussyfooting" your religion, lose the hypocrisy, and let rest what rests. Allow peace and love to control your life. Christ did and wonders happened in ways we see, but even more on levels we have yet to understand. React the way Christ reacted. Not in ways of emotion.
I mourn the death of Osama Bin Laden. As evil as a man as his actions may portray, he was still human being. He was still created in the same manner as I, and he is no different than me. His wrongdoings have cause no more harm than my own in the eyes of my creator. And yet thousands relish in his demise. His passing is celebrated. I regret that his life was taken and moreover I regret in the manner that it occurred. Yet on top of all of this, there has been no outcry about the injustice served to him.
He did not deserve to die any more than you or I deserve punsihment until death. Our waste, our gossip, our lust is no better than the act of designing a plan and instigating motions to murder 3,000 innocent victims. On a daily basis hundreds die of starvation and war, terror and natural disaster. And yet how much are we, Americans (or Westerners for that matter) mourning their loss or attempting to stop their downfall? We are guilty just as much as the next for our inaction. And yet our apathetic behavior is never brought to justice.
How many of us have felt the rage that could kill 3,000? Few in this country. I am not justifying Bin Laden or Al Queda's actions. But I am saying that few Westerners could understand the source of his anger, or the extent of it. And yet we take his life the moment we can. If it isn't clear by now, I am a pacifist. And I wonder how any Christian could not call themselves a pacifist. We groan and mourn at the loss of 3,000 lives and how do we respond? Invade countries, fight and kill, and ultimately become the very enemy we are fighting. Are we any better than this terrorists? No. We believe we are just as justified as they are. So who is right? Neither. For neither fight with peace. Actions of anger, hatred, revenge, and hurt take control when rather actions of forgiveness, reconciliation, and peace should command our decisions.
I applaud Obama on his decision to not release photos of Osama's body. And to you Mrs. Palin, stop "pussyfooting" your religion, lose the hypocrisy, and let rest what rests. Allow peace and love to control your life. Christ did and wonders happened in ways we see, but even more on levels we have yet to understand. React the way Christ reacted. Not in ways of emotion.
3.5.11
Leaf
Imagine a leaf, broken free of its ties to the healthy branch. The strong gusts rip it from it's security and lifeline and suddenly what was once a small part in a uniform of a thriving system of life is now at the mercy of forces impassable. So it is the way we leave our houses each day. We may kiss goodbye our loved one, a parent, or a friend. We may leave casually, apprehensively, or in a rush. It doesn't matter, the manner. What does matter is that the moment one steps forward from their house, they subject themselves to forces unknown and out of their control.
I can't help but each time I visit with my newborn niece, see the fraility to her life. She is but a tiny bud, clinging dearly to the strong protective branches around her. Yet the time will come when she has unfurled into a green, lush leaf, soaking the the sweetness of the rain and the comfort of the sun. But that day will come when the firm grasp loses its power. Not by her own decision, but by decisions made by other forces, she will put out into a frontier much larger than she ever imagined. Suddenly that massive oak she was once apart of is but a speck on the horizon. Before her are thousands of oaks and pines towering above. Acres and acres of unexplored meadows unfurl before her. And at lands end, the solemn power of the ocean awaits.
I don't want to disucss the fears of leavin that oak. Rather I want to talk about the beauty of the exploration. Hearing new languages, breathing in new smells, and seeing dazzling and rare colors are explosions of sensory memories that can be experienced abroad. For me, my times abroad have brought about a understanding of the world that is hard to explain. It isn't necessarily any better than another's, but my mind has been open up to systems that I didn't know existed. I have heard ideas I never knew were real. Finally, I have been able to see life, and understand what it means, from many different lenses. There is beauty in a mural of emotions, smells, tastes, views, morals, and thoughts.
No, I am not a universalist. My core morals and values remain. But they remain in a much modified way. For example, my idea of relationships has transformed over the years. I still value friendships, but suddenly a friendship isn't necessarily a relationship built over time. Rather, my time abroad has forced me to trust people earlier, to reach out faster, and to connect better. I know have good friends in Washington state, Ghana, Holland, Australia, the UK, the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, Massachusettes, and California. I have known some but for a total a four weeks. But they are stil friends.
Many of us are full grown leaves. Yet unbeknownst to us, we are beyond our prime. Our bodies have been aching to leave the oak. Take the risk, and explore. Be rewarded in ways no one could for see. It is worth it. Life is out there. Breathe it in.
I can't help but each time I visit with my newborn niece, see the fraility to her life. She is but a tiny bud, clinging dearly to the strong protective branches around her. Yet the time will come when she has unfurled into a green, lush leaf, soaking the the sweetness of the rain and the comfort of the sun. But that day will come when the firm grasp loses its power. Not by her own decision, but by decisions made by other forces, she will put out into a frontier much larger than she ever imagined. Suddenly that massive oak she was once apart of is but a speck on the horizon. Before her are thousands of oaks and pines towering above. Acres and acres of unexplored meadows unfurl before her. And at lands end, the solemn power of the ocean awaits.
I don't want to disucss the fears of leavin that oak. Rather I want to talk about the beauty of the exploration. Hearing new languages, breathing in new smells, and seeing dazzling and rare colors are explosions of sensory memories that can be experienced abroad. For me, my times abroad have brought about a understanding of the world that is hard to explain. It isn't necessarily any better than another's, but my mind has been open up to systems that I didn't know existed. I have heard ideas I never knew were real. Finally, I have been able to see life, and understand what it means, from many different lenses. There is beauty in a mural of emotions, smells, tastes, views, morals, and thoughts.
No, I am not a universalist. My core morals and values remain. But they remain in a much modified way. For example, my idea of relationships has transformed over the years. I still value friendships, but suddenly a friendship isn't necessarily a relationship built over time. Rather, my time abroad has forced me to trust people earlier, to reach out faster, and to connect better. I know have good friends in Washington state, Ghana, Holland, Australia, the UK, the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, Massachusettes, and California. I have known some but for a total a four weeks. But they are stil friends.
Many of us are full grown leaves. Yet unbeknownst to us, we are beyond our prime. Our bodies have been aching to leave the oak. Take the risk, and explore. Be rewarded in ways no one could for see. It is worth it. Life is out there. Breathe it in.
31.3.11
How to waste $3,000
There comes a time when after some serious thought you can thoroughly reflect on some life decisions and make some accurate judgements on actions you have taken.
I regret my decision to do an internship with Hope International.
Done. Out in the open. Critics will say to me I am arrogant, selfish, and demeaning. I would say I am not ignorant or blinded by this elusive subject we call poverty. I went down to the Dominican Republic to work and learn about micro finance and poverty. I came away with a cultural experience and new friends. It wouldn't be just to say I didn't learn anything about micro finance. And while the little first hand experience I had did teach me a thing or two, I didn't go down to learn that micro finance doesn't work the way Muhummad Yunus would make it seem. It is dirty, rough, hard, and it takes a lot of work. I have more respect for those nationals and expatriates than ever before.
But see, there is this thing called culture. It gets in the way of so many people's attempts to get to the root of... life. Sure, living in a third world country is tough. It is hard, it isn't easy, but should it be used as an excuse for inactivity or unproductiveness? No. And yet for me, my attempts to grow and learn while down in the DR were constantly hit with this abrupt wall of culture for an excuse. Am I angry? Call it bitterness. I am glad for my new friends, both Dominican and American. And I do miss my experiences down there. But that is just it: those experiences would have been there had I been working for for the Peace Corp, the World Bank, studying abroad, etc. What I experienced wasn't anything special to the internship. It was just time spent learning about Dominincan culture.
I want to learn about culture through work. Through partnerships I want to meet new people. I want to see new places travelling to a new location either to start a new project for investment or find a new slum to help alleviate poverty, not just to experience a new dump or new town. That is what I came to the DR to do. And I got new friends instead. Hey, friends are good. But those people are still hungry, still hurting, and here I am back in my heated and air-conditioned room telling you about the warm fuzzy feeling poverty brings to the many of Americans who experience it. How terrible it was to have cold showers in the morning, to eat rice and beans every day:
To make a spectacle of a new culture and of poverty.
I didn't go to the DR to do that. But I ended up doing the very thing I detest in so many pele who talk about poverty like it is a entertaining 3 minute thriller.
I regret my decision to do an internship with Hope International.
Done. Out in the open. Critics will say to me I am arrogant, selfish, and demeaning. I would say I am not ignorant or blinded by this elusive subject we call poverty. I went down to the Dominican Republic to work and learn about micro finance and poverty. I came away with a cultural experience and new friends. It wouldn't be just to say I didn't learn anything about micro finance. And while the little first hand experience I had did teach me a thing or two, I didn't go down to learn that micro finance doesn't work the way Muhummad Yunus would make it seem. It is dirty, rough, hard, and it takes a lot of work. I have more respect for those nationals and expatriates than ever before.
But see, there is this thing called culture. It gets in the way of so many people's attempts to get to the root of... life. Sure, living in a third world country is tough. It is hard, it isn't easy, but should it be used as an excuse for inactivity or unproductiveness? No. And yet for me, my attempts to grow and learn while down in the DR were constantly hit with this abrupt wall of culture for an excuse. Am I angry? Call it bitterness. I am glad for my new friends, both Dominican and American. And I do miss my experiences down there. But that is just it: those experiences would have been there had I been working for for the Peace Corp, the World Bank, studying abroad, etc. What I experienced wasn't anything special to the internship. It was just time spent learning about Dominincan culture.
I want to learn about culture through work. Through partnerships I want to meet new people. I want to see new places travelling to a new location either to start a new project for investment or find a new slum to help alleviate poverty, not just to experience a new dump or new town. That is what I came to the DR to do. And I got new friends instead. Hey, friends are good. But those people are still hungry, still hurting, and here I am back in my heated and air-conditioned room telling you about the warm fuzzy feeling poverty brings to the many of Americans who experience it. How terrible it was to have cold showers in the morning, to eat rice and beans every day:
To make a spectacle of a new culture and of poverty.
I didn't go to the DR to do that. But I ended up doing the very thing I detest in so many pele who talk about poverty like it is a entertaining 3 minute thriller.
8.3.11
Love
It's like the first touch of hands. The sharp rise in heartbeat, the goosebumps that appear all over, the thrill of a physical connection, and the excitement of confirmation of attraction.
It's like the cresting of that first hill on a roller coaster. The clanking gives way to a brief silence. Anticipation takes over knowing thrills are about unfold at breathtaking speed.
It's like returning home for the first time after months being abroad. Hearing the border agent at the airport, a complete stranger, saying welcome home. Seeing the anticipation on your friend's and family's faces as they await you to come out of the terminal.
It's like waking up in someone's arms. Feeling warmth wrapped around you. Understanding the intimacy of the relationship you are in. Having that best friend. And knowing you are had, if only for that brief moment.
It's like coming home from a stressful day at work, sitting down in your favorite chair and enveloping yourself in that ever intriguing storyline. Returning to old friends you met but a week or so ago and reading or watching more of their lives unfold right before your eyes.
It's like waking up to the warm ocean breeze causing the light fabric unfurl in billows by the window. To hear the cry or gulls and birds over the crashing of the waves but 50 meters from you.
It's like the excitement of a big city. Stepping out of the underground station for the first time into the sunlight. Cars hustling by, people in stride with bags, briefcases, and cameras. Tall glass structures looming overhead casting long and cool shadows.
It's like exploring the woods. The musty smell of the past spring rain, the crackle of the leftover leaves from fall. The groans of the trees swaying in the wind. The rustle of the thousands of leaves above you drifting freely.
It's like watching the deep blue sky shift to a light orange and pink only to drop it's hue to a deep maroon as that large ball of fire slides beneath the horizon. The night encroaches in a gentle calm manner, inducing sleep.
It's like biting into that big, juicy strawberry, ripened by the months of sun, rain, and warmth. A blossom of sweetness and tenderness.
It's like the feeling of success only to quickly find out you had been humiliated in front of your peers.
It's like a rotten apple, bright red on the outside but brown, mushy, and poisonous on the inside.
It's like a bright clear sky with dark luminous clouds quickly moving in at a unrelenting pace.
It's like that first jump off the swing. The exhilaration of the sensation of flying. The freedom of height and air. Until the reality sets in that the flying has turned to falling. The pain of the sprain. The tears, the ache.
But we get back up. We choose another apple. We wait the storm out. We stand in front of our peers again. Why? Because the exhilaration of that roller coaster, the juicy core of the strawberry, the wonders of the sunset, even the calmness of a summer forest are worth it. We will fall again, be hurt again. But aren't the pain and hurt what make love so amazing and wonderful?
It's like the cresting of that first hill on a roller coaster. The clanking gives way to a brief silence. Anticipation takes over knowing thrills are about unfold at breathtaking speed.
It's like returning home for the first time after months being abroad. Hearing the border agent at the airport, a complete stranger, saying welcome home. Seeing the anticipation on your friend's and family's faces as they await you to come out of the terminal.
It's like waking up in someone's arms. Feeling warmth wrapped around you. Understanding the intimacy of the relationship you are in. Having that best friend. And knowing you are had, if only for that brief moment.
It's like coming home from a stressful day at work, sitting down in your favorite chair and enveloping yourself in that ever intriguing storyline. Returning to old friends you met but a week or so ago and reading or watching more of their lives unfold right before your eyes.
It's like waking up to the warm ocean breeze causing the light fabric unfurl in billows by the window. To hear the cry or gulls and birds over the crashing of the waves but 50 meters from you.
It's like the excitement of a big city. Stepping out of the underground station for the first time into the sunlight. Cars hustling by, people in stride with bags, briefcases, and cameras. Tall glass structures looming overhead casting long and cool shadows.
It's like exploring the woods. The musty smell of the past spring rain, the crackle of the leftover leaves from fall. The groans of the trees swaying in the wind. The rustle of the thousands of leaves above you drifting freely.
It's like watching the deep blue sky shift to a light orange and pink only to drop it's hue to a deep maroon as that large ball of fire slides beneath the horizon. The night encroaches in a gentle calm manner, inducing sleep.
It's like biting into that big, juicy strawberry, ripened by the months of sun, rain, and warmth. A blossom of sweetness and tenderness.
It's like the feeling of success only to quickly find out you had been humiliated in front of your peers.
It's like a rotten apple, bright red on the outside but brown, mushy, and poisonous on the inside.
It's like a bright clear sky with dark luminous clouds quickly moving in at a unrelenting pace.
It's like that first jump off the swing. The exhilaration of the sensation of flying. The freedom of height and air. Until the reality sets in that the flying has turned to falling. The pain of the sprain. The tears, the ache.
But we get back up. We choose another apple. We wait the storm out. We stand in front of our peers again. Why? Because the exhilaration of that roller coaster, the juicy core of the strawberry, the wonders of the sunset, even the calmness of a summer forest are worth it. We will fall again, be hurt again. But aren't the pain and hurt what make love so amazing and wonderful?
1.3.11
Life
Today the world welcomed the life of Vesper Hiver Beck. Dependent, weak, and tired, she will be a new soul, a new voice, and a new example in this world. She has much to learn: much joy, much pain, and much excitement. The wonders of walking, the joy of friendship, the excitement of love, the pain of sorrow, and the mystery of the unknown. It won't be an easy journey for her but it will be one of learning and prosperity.
I want to use this post to celebrate life. Picture the new buds forming on the ends of hundreds branches around you. Each one yearning to unfurl into a bright flower or a strong green leaf ready for a new cycle of warm air, cool rain, and the light breezes. Imagine the beauty of a young fawn taking its first steps, struggling to gain ground and then feeling the confidence to explore a new world full of smells, tastes, and colors.
Life is nothing but a collection of cycles. Be it the overarching cycle of a lifetime or the cycles of pain we experience, we are constantly moving in circular motions. That isn't to mean there is no progress in our lives. In the same fashion as a tree, we have our times of full bloom where the effect of our existence comes into full being. But we also have times of withdrawal, rest, and recovery, as noted by the hibernation against the harshness of winter. And yet, despite this yearly cycle for a tree: the bloom, the beauty, the transformation of color, until the ultimate shedding and hibernation, the tree isn't stuck in one cycle. It continues to grow and strengthen. The harsh winters invigorate it. The calm springs hearten it. The warm hot summers strengthen it. And the cool falls relieve it. So we go through these cycles of hardness, relaxation, calmness, and struggle. We die, we rise again. We die, we rise again. These cycles are what make us and define us.
For Vesper, she is about to begin on one of thousands of cycles in her life. There will be winters, falls, springs, and summers. And through each season she will grow and learn until she has become the towering oak she is destined to be, a sight for all people and an great influence in the world around her.
That is life. That is what we celebrate.
I am proud to be her uncle and her godfather. May God bless her, her mother, her father, and those she will have an impact on in her many years of life. Amen.
I want to use this post to celebrate life. Picture the new buds forming on the ends of hundreds branches around you. Each one yearning to unfurl into a bright flower or a strong green leaf ready for a new cycle of warm air, cool rain, and the light breezes. Imagine the beauty of a young fawn taking its first steps, struggling to gain ground and then feeling the confidence to explore a new world full of smells, tastes, and colors.
Life is nothing but a collection of cycles. Be it the overarching cycle of a lifetime or the cycles of pain we experience, we are constantly moving in circular motions. That isn't to mean there is no progress in our lives. In the same fashion as a tree, we have our times of full bloom where the effect of our existence comes into full being. But we also have times of withdrawal, rest, and recovery, as noted by the hibernation against the harshness of winter. And yet, despite this yearly cycle for a tree: the bloom, the beauty, the transformation of color, until the ultimate shedding and hibernation, the tree isn't stuck in one cycle. It continues to grow and strengthen. The harsh winters invigorate it. The calm springs hearten it. The warm hot summers strengthen it. And the cool falls relieve it. So we go through these cycles of hardness, relaxation, calmness, and struggle. We die, we rise again. We die, we rise again. These cycles are what make us and define us.
For Vesper, she is about to begin on one of thousands of cycles in her life. There will be winters, falls, springs, and summers. And through each season she will grow and learn until she has become the towering oak she is destined to be, a sight for all people and an great influence in the world around her.
That is life. That is what we celebrate.
I am proud to be her uncle and her godfather. May God bless her, her mother, her father, and those she will have an impact on in her many years of life. Amen.
28.2.11
Separation
Hindsight is the greatest way to beat yourself up. But it is also a great way to be reflective, learn from mistakes, and keep attempting to.... work. Looking back at my life over the past 12 months I can see many mistakes, but also many successes. If there is anything I have learned, it is that the human has a desire for fulfillment that is so powerful it can blind even the quickest of minds. I have the mind of molasses, so my heart easily takes over control.
A desire for love. A need for attention. A hope for success. A passion for something. A worry of pain. A fear of something out of one's control.
The heart takes on many emotions that all reflect an inward desire. It is so important to be reflective, to use that hindsight to delve into the reasoning behind your actions to find that emotion to unearth your inner need. Once that need has been recognized, only then can a balance be found.
It is important to note that I am not explicitly talking about survival instincts. But I am talking about how survival instincts can play an important role in our actions. It may not be hunger for food. But hunger for alcohol, sex, attention, or money can be just as powerful as the need for water and food. For me, my hunger is relations. I desire to feel wanted, to be had, and to know I am loved. It comes from a deep sense of need and a lack of feeling loved growing up. But the reality is that my desire is no different from yours. I am Christian, that should be obvious by now. And so I believe that our separation from God, the one ultimate satisfaction, is what has created this need in not just me, but all humans. What is different though, is how we react to this hunger. It takes on desires for relationships, alcohol, sex, money, power, gossip. There are moments in your life that can help explain why you desire what you desire, but the root cause is a need, no an ache, in your heart. And that ache comes from separation from God.
A desire for love. A need for attention. A hope for success. A passion for something. A worry of pain. A fear of something out of one's control.
The heart takes on many emotions that all reflect an inward desire. It is so important to be reflective, to use that hindsight to delve into the reasoning behind your actions to find that emotion to unearth your inner need. Once that need has been recognized, only then can a balance be found.
It is important to note that I am not explicitly talking about survival instincts. But I am talking about how survival instincts can play an important role in our actions. It may not be hunger for food. But hunger for alcohol, sex, attention, or money can be just as powerful as the need for water and food. For me, my hunger is relations. I desire to feel wanted, to be had, and to know I am loved. It comes from a deep sense of need and a lack of feeling loved growing up. But the reality is that my desire is no different from yours. I am Christian, that should be obvious by now. And so I believe that our separation from God, the one ultimate satisfaction, is what has created this need in not just me, but all humans. What is different though, is how we react to this hunger. It takes on desires for relationships, alcohol, sex, money, power, gossip. There are moments in your life that can help explain why you desire what you desire, but the root cause is a need, no an ache, in your heart. And that ache comes from separation from God.
23.2.11
Animals
Stuck in limbo, there are times when we feel both security and fear. We are starved yet full at the exact same moment. Have you ever opened up the fridge to just stare at the choices and options unable to decide if you really want something to eat all the while the cool soft air the machine had worked so hard to build up is quickly rushing out into nothingness? I do it all too often.
Is my life a conundrum? That is like going up to a Dominican and asking him if his life is worthless since he will achieve the same ouput (on a global scale) as a teenager from a developed country. What is the point in poor people if we have wealthy who are far more productive? What is the point of an indecisive person that is creative if they cannot implement their ideas? Why not rid the world of creativity and have CEOs and board members make all our decisions? Such a good idea...
But where is the fun in that? There is none. Please, you think God allowed sin because he wanted us to CHOSE? Tell me, since sin has been in this world, what choices have you actually made? Nope, sin is fun. God likes fun.
But in all seriousness, our indecisiveness, our lack of productivity, our lack of creativity, or the void of efficiency isn't wrong. It is merely a by product of this thing people call sin. It is because we are animals driven by our hunger for unsatisfactory things. Nothing can ever fulfill this deep innate desires we have.
Take me. I bought a new iPod. Now I want a new iMac. Suddenly I need a used Mazda3 with 160 horsepower and a 5-speed short throw manual.... Hmm back to Criswell Honda? Nope. I am going to let that animal inside me die. Let the craving disappear. Because reality will set in. And I don't need a car. I don't need a new iMac, mine runs slow, but just fine. And the iPod, well it isn't satisfying me because it isn't designed to fulfill the needs I need met.
So what do I need met? Get to know me, then I will be more than happy to explain my shortcomings. But the overarching need is a need to belong. To feel wanted. Either by love or friendship it is a natural need every human has.
As we have the hunger of dogs, so we have the desire for packs like dogs.
I am a dog. And so are you. Think about that. Then listen/watch the music video of Animal by Neon Trees. A hopeless love song that casts the same mood and tone of every Top 40 song before it. But the idea of the animal. That is fresh and interesting.
Think of yourself as an animal. Then see how you look at life.
Is my life a conundrum? That is like going up to a Dominican and asking him if his life is worthless since he will achieve the same ouput (on a global scale) as a teenager from a developed country. What is the point in poor people if we have wealthy who are far more productive? What is the point of an indecisive person that is creative if they cannot implement their ideas? Why not rid the world of creativity and have CEOs and board members make all our decisions? Such a good idea...
But where is the fun in that? There is none. Please, you think God allowed sin because he wanted us to CHOSE? Tell me, since sin has been in this world, what choices have you actually made? Nope, sin is fun. God likes fun.
But in all seriousness, our indecisiveness, our lack of productivity, our lack of creativity, or the void of efficiency isn't wrong. It is merely a by product of this thing people call sin. It is because we are animals driven by our hunger for unsatisfactory things. Nothing can ever fulfill this deep innate desires we have.
Take me. I bought a new iPod. Now I want a new iMac. Suddenly I need a used Mazda3 with 160 horsepower and a 5-speed short throw manual.... Hmm back to Criswell Honda? Nope. I am going to let that animal inside me die. Let the craving disappear. Because reality will set in. And I don't need a car. I don't need a new iMac, mine runs slow, but just fine. And the iPod, well it isn't satisfying me because it isn't designed to fulfill the needs I need met.
So what do I need met? Get to know me, then I will be more than happy to explain my shortcomings. But the overarching need is a need to belong. To feel wanted. Either by love or friendship it is a natural need every human has.
As we have the hunger of dogs, so we have the desire for packs like dogs.
I am a dog. And so are you. Think about that. Then listen/watch the music video of Animal by Neon Trees. A hopeless love song that casts the same mood and tone of every Top 40 song before it. But the idea of the animal. That is fresh and interesting.
Think of yourself as an animal. Then see how you look at life.
21.2.11
Under Control
Life.
Crazy. Unpredictable. And ridiculous.
But as cliche as that all sounds, let's admit there is much truth to that statement. Case in point: one person you all know so well spent the past 6 months blindsided by anger towards a feeling, an emotion, and a spirit, so much so as to become the very best he had been afraid of for years. Life, in it's crazy game of fun it calls human beings threw me for a loop putting me into an endless cycle of anger towards God, towards truth, towards love, and towards confidence. Gory details aside, it hit me about four weeks ago that the life I was pursuing was less satisfactory than the life I had changed from 9 months prior. In my attempt to change course, I sort of over compensated by allowing my anger to guide my choices, not a humility I have so proudly professed I am learning about in past posts. That anger brought about a life that I was never fully satisfied with. How could anger ever be fulfilling? And how could attempts to stifle that anger ever bring about happiness?
It took a slightly tipsy 4am conversation full of raw emotion with a seemingly complete stranger to make the realization that my life had been out of control, was out of control, and would continue to be out of control until I came to this realization:
My actions, my decisions, they don't matter. My relationships, my work, my life is not important. What is foundational is my relationship with God. All else will fall into place. Our lives fall into disarray and out of control when we let emotions, raw feelings, and human beings dictate our world. Control only arrives once that power is returned to the being that gave it to us in the first place.
Losing control? Then give up control.
See where that leads you.
Crazy. Unpredictable. And ridiculous.
But as cliche as that all sounds, let's admit there is much truth to that statement. Case in point: one person you all know so well spent the past 6 months blindsided by anger towards a feeling, an emotion, and a spirit, so much so as to become the very best he had been afraid of for years. Life, in it's crazy game of fun it calls human beings threw me for a loop putting me into an endless cycle of anger towards God, towards truth, towards love, and towards confidence. Gory details aside, it hit me about four weeks ago that the life I was pursuing was less satisfactory than the life I had changed from 9 months prior. In my attempt to change course, I sort of over compensated by allowing my anger to guide my choices, not a humility I have so proudly professed I am learning about in past posts. That anger brought about a life that I was never fully satisfied with. How could anger ever be fulfilling? And how could attempts to stifle that anger ever bring about happiness?
It took a slightly tipsy 4am conversation full of raw emotion with a seemingly complete stranger to make the realization that my life had been out of control, was out of control, and would continue to be out of control until I came to this realization:
My actions, my decisions, they don't matter. My relationships, my work, my life is not important. What is foundational is my relationship with God. All else will fall into place. Our lives fall into disarray and out of control when we let emotions, raw feelings, and human beings dictate our world. Control only arrives once that power is returned to the being that gave it to us in the first place.
Losing control? Then give up control.
See where that leads you.
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