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.
8.5.11
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?
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