Hi friends...I am not over Jimmy, despite this blog, and I am looking for a redemption story a little less subtle, so I am not motivated to write on this blog anymore!! The story continues on a new blog, a new site...here it is: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/bread/
Jaimie
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Jesus and parenting...
I had to write a paper the other day articulating my thoughts about Jesus and Parenting and Kids.
In the 1st century, children were not highly regarded (Blomberg 273.). Children were expected to grow up quickly and begin contributing to their family’s economic well-being as soon as possible. Yet Jesus said in Matthew 18:3-4, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus is asking his disciples to humble themselves like little children. Children rarely act humbly. Often they think they are independent and in control. In reality, they depend on adults to meet their needs. God wants us to depend on him to meet our needs. If we do not, we end up exploiting people who are weaker than us (children).
Jesus used “little ones” not only to refer to children, but his disciples (Blomberg, 273). In Matthew 18:6 it is written, "But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea." This is a stern warning to all in positions of power to raise children correctly. Jesus’ warning applies to us on several levels; we not only need to love, protect, and provide for our youth, but the poor among us, as well as the parts of us that have not grown up yet. Alice Miller, in her classic book, The Drama of the Gifted Child, explored the reversal that many children experience growing up. Instead of getting their needs met, many children learn to meet the needs of the adults in their life in order to survive. The consequences of this reversal are tragic. Often it is very hard for these children as adults to identify their own needs, protect themselves, and accept unconditional love. Those who were abused, rejected and abandoned as children often abuse, reject and abandon themselves and others when they grow up. In addition, it is very difficult for children who could not surrender and trust their parents to learn how to surrender and trust God, and safe people. One way to frame Jesus’ message is this; We need to come to God as little children. God will parent us, so we can give “children” around us what they need: unconditional love, guidance, healthy discipline, protection and provision.
Above everything, children need unconditional love. In 1 John 4:19 it is written, “We love because he first loved us.” Children learn to love by receiving love from adults. Good parents show their children love by giving them good gifts, showing them affection, blessing them, taking care of their needs, and spending time getting to know them. Good parents help children love themselves. In an ideal situation, children were created in a love relationship between their parents. Good parents have children because they want to love them. Good parents teach their children to ask for what they want and trust that when the parent does not give it to them, he is withholding out of love. Good parents let their children know when something is a gift, and teach their child to say thank you. This is not because the parent needs to be thanked, but because the child needs to learn to recognize gifts. Good parents choose to be vulnerable with their children. They choose to hear what their children are thinking and feeling, and they even allow themselves to hurt when their children hurt.
Good parents give their children guidance when they are able to hear it. It is uncomfortable to grow. When children are growing, they do not know what is happening. Good parents help their children take care of themselves, and develop good habits. Good parents help children through the pains of growing up. Good parents help their children learn how to work, play and love by first modeling for children and then helping them, step by step, do things on their own. Good parents don’t get mad when their children can’t do things, but provide scaffolding to make the learning process manageable. Good parents have children do chores to learn how to do menial, everyday acts of service, and learn to participate in community. Good parents carry heavy loads but have each child carry their own load. Good parents give the child ways to show love to others. Even though parents can do things more efficiently, the child participates in a labor of love, and the parent deeply appreciates it. Good parents wean children from things. Good parents sometimes withhold things so their child can take a step towards learning to do something themselves. This is a painful but necessary process.
At the same time, good parents give their children healthy discipline. When children are little, they assert their independence by saying, “no.” “NO, NO, NO!” But children miss out on the goodness of being in relationship when they say no to everything. Children sometimes develop destructive habits that rob them of their freedom. Good parents will not make their children receive goodness. They will let their child say no. But no has hurtful consequences. Good parents let their children experience negative consequences, so that they learn to trust their parents and say yes to them.
Children need to find rest and protection in their parents. Good parents create a safe place for children to rest. Children need to know the parent is in charge—only then the child can know the safety of being second. Sometimes parents wisely withhold inheritance and other gifts until the child can accept and use them responsibly. Good parents know when their children have been spoiled. They have been overstimulated. Good parents do not want their children to lose sensitivity to creation and the quiet whispers of the Holy Spirit. So they take away privileges to help their children gain sensitivity again.
Good parents provide for their children’s needs. This does not equate to giving children whatever they want. Sometimes children think they know what they want but parents have a sense of a child’s deeper desire. For instance, a child may think they want candy but maybe the child really wants extra attention and needs to feel special. Good parents do not always give child what they ask for because children don’t always really know what they want. Children do not always understand their parents’ provision. It’s not that the parent refuses to explain it, but that the child is not able to understand yet.
Most of our parents did not meet our needs growing up. Thankfully, If we are willing, we can come to God, the good parent, like little children. As we counsel the marginalized, and the poor, we encounter people who need to be re-parented by God. Good counselors not only do some of the things good parents do, but they bring their clients to a place where they can more readily receive God’s parenting. Many of us have not become fully functioning adults because the kids inside us are still too needy to grow up. Often counseling adults looks like respecting and caring for the children inside.
God has been teaching me that he is a good parent to the little children inside of me. I experience God disciplining me and allowing me to face the consequences of my decisions, while at the same time allowing me to crawl into his arms and protect me. I experience God teaching me to let him lead, so I can enjoy the safety of being second. I am even starting to sense God’s enjoyment of me. Some more grown up parts of me insist on creating a kingdom of chaos. The adult parts do not protect my boundaries and the children inside are beat up, and not safe. At the same time, I have spoiled children who have never been disciplined in love. I am learning to parent myself by experiencing God’s parenting of me.
When we are being parented by God, we can be good parents to children. We are all needy. If we do not meet our needs in God, we will meet them by exploiting children. We need to receive God’s unconditional love, guidance, healthy discipline, protection and provision, so we can give the same to kids.
In the 1st century, children were not highly regarded (Blomberg 273.). Children were expected to grow up quickly and begin contributing to their family’s economic well-being as soon as possible. Yet Jesus said in Matthew 18:3-4, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus is asking his disciples to humble themselves like little children. Children rarely act humbly. Often they think they are independent and in control. In reality, they depend on adults to meet their needs. God wants us to depend on him to meet our needs. If we do not, we end up exploiting people who are weaker than us (children).
Jesus used “little ones” not only to refer to children, but his disciples (Blomberg, 273). In Matthew 18:6 it is written, "But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea." This is a stern warning to all in positions of power to raise children correctly. Jesus’ warning applies to us on several levels; we not only need to love, protect, and provide for our youth, but the poor among us, as well as the parts of us that have not grown up yet. Alice Miller, in her classic book, The Drama of the Gifted Child, explored the reversal that many children experience growing up. Instead of getting their needs met, many children learn to meet the needs of the adults in their life in order to survive. The consequences of this reversal are tragic. Often it is very hard for these children as adults to identify their own needs, protect themselves, and accept unconditional love. Those who were abused, rejected and abandoned as children often abuse, reject and abandon themselves and others when they grow up. In addition, it is very difficult for children who could not surrender and trust their parents to learn how to surrender and trust God, and safe people. One way to frame Jesus’ message is this; We need to come to God as little children. God will parent us, so we can give “children” around us what they need: unconditional love, guidance, healthy discipline, protection and provision.
Above everything, children need unconditional love. In 1 John 4:19 it is written, “We love because he first loved us.” Children learn to love by receiving love from adults. Good parents show their children love by giving them good gifts, showing them affection, blessing them, taking care of their needs, and spending time getting to know them. Good parents help children love themselves. In an ideal situation, children were created in a love relationship between their parents. Good parents have children because they want to love them. Good parents teach their children to ask for what they want and trust that when the parent does not give it to them, he is withholding out of love. Good parents let their children know when something is a gift, and teach their child to say thank you. This is not because the parent needs to be thanked, but because the child needs to learn to recognize gifts. Good parents choose to be vulnerable with their children. They choose to hear what their children are thinking and feeling, and they even allow themselves to hurt when their children hurt.
Good parents give their children guidance when they are able to hear it. It is uncomfortable to grow. When children are growing, they do not know what is happening. Good parents help their children take care of themselves, and develop good habits. Good parents help children through the pains of growing up. Good parents help their children learn how to work, play and love by first modeling for children and then helping them, step by step, do things on their own. Good parents don’t get mad when their children can’t do things, but provide scaffolding to make the learning process manageable. Good parents have children do chores to learn how to do menial, everyday acts of service, and learn to participate in community. Good parents carry heavy loads but have each child carry their own load. Good parents give the child ways to show love to others. Even though parents can do things more efficiently, the child participates in a labor of love, and the parent deeply appreciates it. Good parents wean children from things. Good parents sometimes withhold things so their child can take a step towards learning to do something themselves. This is a painful but necessary process.
At the same time, good parents give their children healthy discipline. When children are little, they assert their independence by saying, “no.” “NO, NO, NO!” But children miss out on the goodness of being in relationship when they say no to everything. Children sometimes develop destructive habits that rob them of their freedom. Good parents will not make their children receive goodness. They will let their child say no. But no has hurtful consequences. Good parents let their children experience negative consequences, so that they learn to trust their parents and say yes to them.
Children need to find rest and protection in their parents. Good parents create a safe place for children to rest. Children need to know the parent is in charge—only then the child can know the safety of being second. Sometimes parents wisely withhold inheritance and other gifts until the child can accept and use them responsibly. Good parents know when their children have been spoiled. They have been overstimulated. Good parents do not want their children to lose sensitivity to creation and the quiet whispers of the Holy Spirit. So they take away privileges to help their children gain sensitivity again.
Good parents provide for their children’s needs. This does not equate to giving children whatever they want. Sometimes children think they know what they want but parents have a sense of a child’s deeper desire. For instance, a child may think they want candy but maybe the child really wants extra attention and needs to feel special. Good parents do not always give child what they ask for because children don’t always really know what they want. Children do not always understand their parents’ provision. It’s not that the parent refuses to explain it, but that the child is not able to understand yet.
Most of our parents did not meet our needs growing up. Thankfully, If we are willing, we can come to God, the good parent, like little children. As we counsel the marginalized, and the poor, we encounter people who need to be re-parented by God. Good counselors not only do some of the things good parents do, but they bring their clients to a place where they can more readily receive God’s parenting. Many of us have not become fully functioning adults because the kids inside us are still too needy to grow up. Often counseling adults looks like respecting and caring for the children inside.
God has been teaching me that he is a good parent to the little children inside of me. I experience God disciplining me and allowing me to face the consequences of my decisions, while at the same time allowing me to crawl into his arms and protect me. I experience God teaching me to let him lead, so I can enjoy the safety of being second. I am even starting to sense God’s enjoyment of me. Some more grown up parts of me insist on creating a kingdom of chaos. The adult parts do not protect my boundaries and the children inside are beat up, and not safe. At the same time, I have spoiled children who have never been disciplined in love. I am learning to parent myself by experiencing God’s parenting of me.
When we are being parented by God, we can be good parents to children. We are all needy. If we do not meet our needs in God, we will meet them by exploiting children. We need to receive God’s unconditional love, guidance, healthy discipline, protection and provision, so we can give the same to kids.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
"The scriptures teach a distinction between sin and weakness. “Sin” (hamartia) refers to the changes in our nature and behavior for which we are responsible, while “weakness” (astheneia) refers to those changes in our nature for which we are not responsible. God responds to our sin with judgement tempered by grace, while his response to weakness is tenderness and compassion…"
When I was a kid, I got in trouble for things that were weaknesses, and got away with a lot of sin.
Things I got in really big trouble for:
I broke a tree branch off a tree I had in the back yard.
I didn't care about my goat enough.
I didn't pay attention enough/have enough common sense.
I let the play room get so messy that my dad raked it all in the middle of the room, set me in the middle and made me stay there until I cleaned it (I was five or younger and sat there for hours, completely overwhelmed!)
My dog got sprayed by a skunk
My bike got stolen
Wrecking my first car (I didn't know how to drive a stick and no one ever taught me!)
These were not sins, they were just stuff that little kids do.
Things I didn't get in trouble for that I should have:
Blaming bad stuff I did on imaginary friend.
Being abusive to my little sister
Being greedy and not sharing....
Being gluttonous and eating all the sweets!
Never helping my mom around the house
Never cleaning up after myself.
etc.
I would like to learn to discipline myself around sin, and show myself grace around weakness. I often do the exact opposite--let myself rebel and beat myself up for things that are more weaknesses.
Things I get really mad at myself for:
When I eat candy
When I lose stuff
When I do not stay on task
When I am not efficient
When I make the wrong decision even though I really tried to make the right one.
When I can't understand something.
Things I should hold myself accountable for but dont:
When I am ungrateful
When I refuse to believe that God is faithful and wants to give me good gifts.
When I rage at people and throw tantrums
When I am prideful and think I am smarter than everyone.
When I am envious and want what everyone else has
When I am selfish with my time.
When I demand that everyone do what I want them to do.
So, I am sitting with all this.
When I was a kid, I got in trouble for things that were weaknesses, and got away with a lot of sin.
Things I got in really big trouble for:
I broke a tree branch off a tree I had in the back yard.
I didn't care about my goat enough.
I didn't pay attention enough/have enough common sense.
I let the play room get so messy that my dad raked it all in the middle of the room, set me in the middle and made me stay there until I cleaned it (I was five or younger and sat there for hours, completely overwhelmed!)
My dog got sprayed by a skunk
My bike got stolen
Wrecking my first car (I didn't know how to drive a stick and no one ever taught me!)
These were not sins, they were just stuff that little kids do.
Things I didn't get in trouble for that I should have:
Blaming bad stuff I did on imaginary friend.
Being abusive to my little sister
Being greedy and not sharing....
Being gluttonous and eating all the sweets!
Never helping my mom around the house
Never cleaning up after myself.
etc.
I would like to learn to discipline myself around sin, and show myself grace around weakness. I often do the exact opposite--let myself rebel and beat myself up for things that are more weaknesses.
Things I get really mad at myself for:
When I eat candy
When I lose stuff
When I do not stay on task
When I am not efficient
When I make the wrong decision even though I really tried to make the right one.
When I can't understand something.
Things I should hold myself accountable for but dont:
When I am ungrateful
When I refuse to believe that God is faithful and wants to give me good gifts.
When I rage at people and throw tantrums
When I am prideful and think I am smarter than everyone.
When I am envious and want what everyone else has
When I am selfish with my time.
When I demand that everyone do what I want them to do.
So, I am sitting with all this.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Richard's Funeral
I sat next to Charlie. Charlie used to be a roadie back in the day.
Me: You look skinnier, have you lost weight?
Charlie: Yeah, about 20 lbs.
Me: What have you been doing?
Charlie: Well I am only eating canned foods.
Charlie may be the only person on the planet losing weight on the canned-food diet.
I am one of the first ones in. Two ladies sit across from me in the front row. Their eyes are puffy from crying. I welcomed them into the church. They say they are Richard's nieces.
Steve sits next to Lynn, Hick's wife, in the back, mumbling about how he is glad Richard is gone.
The church is the most crowded I have ever seen it. About 75 people are packed into the little sanctuary. Many homeless friends, a few St. James church members, Network Homeless Coffeehouse shift directors, Camille who leads a homeless Bible study, Richard's sister-in-law, and three nieces were in attendence.
Ted, a part Chinese homeless samurai is sitting in front of me. My friend Amy just came from the Credit Union, and is in a sharp suit. John Hicks starts the service.
Hicks: Richard is already up there in that home Jesus prepared. Lest we hang onto him, lets take some time to forgive Richard.
Charlie: We don't need to forgive Richard for nothing. I have known him 8-9 years. He loved my dog Dollar. She always sat on Richard's lap. He helped me when I needed it.
Jerry: (oldish man with long white ghost hair) We used to sit on the porch and talk about anything that came to mind.
Jimmy: He can't come back to us but we will come to him.
Brian: (church guitarist and self-proclaimed 7th generation medicine man) I want to forgive Richard for making me feel like a heal.
Hicks then talks about how Richard knew Jesus, and was know in the place Jesus prepared for him.
John 14:1-4"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going."
Hicks has a broken pot and a beautiful pot at the front of the altar. He talks about how we are all dying.
2 Corinthians 4:7-18 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you....
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal..."
Ryan is in the doorway. He just graduated from Denver Seminary and started this Yuppie church that kind of works like a Terrorist cell model...each little home unit is tied to a bigger unit...each cell worships in the home, and comes together when the "Job" calls for it...whether its a community service project or barbeque.
I have heard a lot about Cammille but this is the first time I have seen her. Her thick blond hair is cut so that all her bangs fall in the same wave, and the rest of her hair all stops in the same longish bob-like wave. It looks like a wig. She has manic makeup on. She is skinny, wearing 80's style clean khakis, and a sailor-striped shirt. Cammille runs a bible study every Wednesday morning, and brings along breakfast. She preaches in the middle of crowded streets, and sometimes in the middle of the homeless coffee house (Network). She is surprisingly embraced by the clique of homeless tramps that frequent Network Coffeehouse, despite her 80's housewife appearance. She wants to read out of the Bible but Hicks stops her.
Hicks: I want stories...what do we want to remember about Richard?
Wayne: (Teaches third grade in a small town. He works at the homeless coffee house on Saturday mornings because he wants to play chess with someone) Richard always set up for my shift, and loved 1950s music.
Jimmy: (curly, gray-haired, toothless, homeless street musician) I loved bring school children to Richard, Richard loved to show them around the coffee house.
Mark: Richard loved his tobacco, but never let people curse. He would say, 'This is God's house.'
Sarah: (Church elder, off-key singer) He enjoyed my grandkids.
Richard's Niece: Its been a tough last six years. Richard's drinking and homelessness was painful for the family. He could be a real SOB.
Ted: (Crying) I saw Richard as a father figure to me. My own father died.
Bill: (Wearing a leather jacket to remember Richard's biker days) Richard was overall a good guy.
Steve: (schizophrenic halfway house missionary) Richard always offered me chicken. I would like to sing part of a song; I am not a good singer so bear with me. 'It won't be long till happiness steps up to great me.'
Jimmy then plays amazing grace. His his raspy, toothless voice hit most of the notes in a jazzy street performance.
An old guy with a leather vest, biker tatoos, and vietnam veteran cap cuddles with his grieving 30-year-younger wife. She is wearing a royal blue jumper with a lace collared Omish blouse and prominent gold cross necklace.
Jimmys toothless verse "the hour, Richard first believed" sets the rhythm for Camille as she coddles and rocks a drunk, bawling homeless lady back and forth.
Lynn, John's wife, reads Ecclesiastes in what seems to me a high church sort of way (Oratorally correct?)
Vince: (a large, haggard black man) I am no good at social graces. Richard did let me know when I was rude. The quiet/simple people make the world tick. Richard took the tyranny of disease well.
Sid: (middle school principal) Richard was a walking medical experiment. He was living on borrowed time. Richard would sit there at his seat at the window being policeman of the neighborhood. He kept network safe.
Shirley (the sister-in-law): We would get together at mom's house and he would either be working on his car or moms' car. We called Richard Dick...Dick's brother died and Dick took his nephew fishing (she starts crying).
Wally: (monk-like refridgerator repairman) Richard would always say 'God bless you.' Then I would say 'God bless you.' Now there is no one to say that when I come on shift.
We read Psalm 23.
Anita: (Homeless lady I have never met) Once Richard told me to pick him something at the food bank while I was at it. I took a long time, and he said 'I thought you fell off the planet! But God loves you.'
Red: (in-and-out of sober Irish homeless guy who spends a lot of time at Network) He never said a harsh word to anyone. Reminds me of a dad..humble and generous.
Jerry: He is generous. He gave me some money and said, 'Here, why don't you go get six double cheeseburgers--3 for me and 3 for you!'
Charlie: He was good at rolling cigarettes...he always had a line forming..
Walter (The bartender at the bar that Richard hid out in): He always wanted me to pour him a milk and soda.
Bill then lays down a charm bracelet on the altar that says "Truth, Grace, and Love."
John raps up the service with a word of prayer.
Richard (Uncle Dick?) You were not forgotten.
Me: You look skinnier, have you lost weight?
Charlie: Yeah, about 20 lbs.
Me: What have you been doing?
Charlie: Well I am only eating canned foods.
Charlie may be the only person on the planet losing weight on the canned-food diet.
I am one of the first ones in. Two ladies sit across from me in the front row. Their eyes are puffy from crying. I welcomed them into the church. They say they are Richard's nieces.
Steve sits next to Lynn, Hick's wife, in the back, mumbling about how he is glad Richard is gone.
The church is the most crowded I have ever seen it. About 75 people are packed into the little sanctuary. Many homeless friends, a few St. James church members, Network Homeless Coffeehouse shift directors, Camille who leads a homeless Bible study, Richard's sister-in-law, and three nieces were in attendence.
Ted, a part Chinese homeless samurai is sitting in front of me. My friend Amy just came from the Credit Union, and is in a sharp suit. John Hicks starts the service.
Hicks: Richard is already up there in that home Jesus prepared. Lest we hang onto him, lets take some time to forgive Richard.
Charlie: We don't need to forgive Richard for nothing. I have known him 8-9 years. He loved my dog Dollar. She always sat on Richard's lap. He helped me when I needed it.
Jerry: (oldish man with long white ghost hair) We used to sit on the porch and talk about anything that came to mind.
Jimmy: He can't come back to us but we will come to him.
Brian: (church guitarist and self-proclaimed 7th generation medicine man) I want to forgive Richard for making me feel like a heal.
Hicks then talks about how Richard knew Jesus, and was know in the place Jesus prepared for him.
John 14:1-4"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going."
Hicks has a broken pot and a beautiful pot at the front of the altar. He talks about how we are all dying.
2 Corinthians 4:7-18 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you....
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal..."
Ryan is in the doorway. He just graduated from Denver Seminary and started this Yuppie church that kind of works like a Terrorist cell model...each little home unit is tied to a bigger unit...each cell worships in the home, and comes together when the "Job" calls for it...whether its a community service project or barbeque.
I have heard a lot about Cammille but this is the first time I have seen her. Her thick blond hair is cut so that all her bangs fall in the same wave, and the rest of her hair all stops in the same longish bob-like wave. It looks like a wig. She has manic makeup on. She is skinny, wearing 80's style clean khakis, and a sailor-striped shirt. Cammille runs a bible study every Wednesday morning, and brings along breakfast. She preaches in the middle of crowded streets, and sometimes in the middle of the homeless coffee house (Network). She is surprisingly embraced by the clique of homeless tramps that frequent Network Coffeehouse, despite her 80's housewife appearance. She wants to read out of the Bible but Hicks stops her.
Hicks: I want stories...what do we want to remember about Richard?
Wayne: (Teaches third grade in a small town. He works at the homeless coffee house on Saturday mornings because he wants to play chess with someone) Richard always set up for my shift, and loved 1950s music.
Jimmy: (curly, gray-haired, toothless, homeless street musician) I loved bring school children to Richard, Richard loved to show them around the coffee house.
Mark: Richard loved his tobacco, but never let people curse. He would say, 'This is God's house.'
Sarah: (Church elder, off-key singer) He enjoyed my grandkids.
Richard's Niece: Its been a tough last six years. Richard's drinking and homelessness was painful for the family. He could be a real SOB.
Ted: (Crying) I saw Richard as a father figure to me. My own father died.
Bill: (Wearing a leather jacket to remember Richard's biker days) Richard was overall a good guy.
Steve: (schizophrenic halfway house missionary) Richard always offered me chicken. I would like to sing part of a song; I am not a good singer so bear with me. 'It won't be long till happiness steps up to great me.'
Jimmy then plays amazing grace. His his raspy, toothless voice hit most of the notes in a jazzy street performance.
An old guy with a leather vest, biker tatoos, and vietnam veteran cap cuddles with his grieving 30-year-younger wife. She is wearing a royal blue jumper with a lace collared Omish blouse and prominent gold cross necklace.
Jimmys toothless verse "the hour, Richard first believed" sets the rhythm for Camille as she coddles and rocks a drunk, bawling homeless lady back and forth.
Lynn, John's wife, reads Ecclesiastes in what seems to me a high church sort of way (Oratorally correct?)
Vince: (a large, haggard black man) I am no good at social graces. Richard did let me know when I was rude. The quiet/simple people make the world tick. Richard took the tyranny of disease well.
Sid: (middle school principal) Richard was a walking medical experiment. He was living on borrowed time. Richard would sit there at his seat at the window being policeman of the neighborhood. He kept network safe.
Shirley (the sister-in-law): We would get together at mom's house and he would either be working on his car or moms' car. We called Richard Dick...Dick's brother died and Dick took his nephew fishing (she starts crying).
Wally: (monk-like refridgerator repairman) Richard would always say 'God bless you.' Then I would say 'God bless you.' Now there is no one to say that when I come on shift.
We read Psalm 23.
Anita: (Homeless lady I have never met) Once Richard told me to pick him something at the food bank while I was at it. I took a long time, and he said 'I thought you fell off the planet! But God loves you.'
Red: (in-and-out of sober Irish homeless guy who spends a lot of time at Network) He never said a harsh word to anyone. Reminds me of a dad..humble and generous.
Jerry: He is generous. He gave me some money and said, 'Here, why don't you go get six double cheeseburgers--3 for me and 3 for you!'
Charlie: He was good at rolling cigarettes...he always had a line forming..
Walter (The bartender at the bar that Richard hid out in): He always wanted me to pour him a milk and soda.
Bill then lays down a charm bracelet on the altar that says "Truth, Grace, and Love."
John raps up the service with a word of prayer.
Richard (Uncle Dick?) You were not forgotten.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
My Most Recent Sermon
The other day I decided to make a "vision board" where I looked through magazines and found images that captured my desire and made a collage, to remind me of what I really want. One of the images I cut out was of a lion stalking his prey, and I thought it was an image of God. I told my therapist that I wanted God to stalk me down and kill the parts of me that needed to die. I had a day of prayer on Saturday, and I read Hosea. A lot of imagery came up from Hosea about God, the lion devouring his people. This was very comforting to me. I wanted to talk about this new image I have of God.
I want to talk today about the comforting wrath of God.
Hosea: God is speaking of judging the Northern Kingdom for its sin (of many kinds). Some people might know it as the book as the one where the prophet has to go marry the whore.
Hosea is reporting what God spoke concerning their sorry state. He is talking to the
Northern kingdom, but makes it clear that Judah is not exempt.
There are three main problems:
Problem 1: Bad Kings are leading the people into violent wars: This is taking place 734-732 BC at that time the Rezin king of Syria joined Pekah king of Israel in attacking the king of Judah. They wanted to replace Ahaz or force him to join their coalition against Tiglath-Pileser II of Assyria. Resin and Pekas forces killed 120,000 of Ahas troups and took 200,000 people prisoner. These people are relatives! Then Ahaz got revenge by making an alliance with Assyria. After the Assyrian king defeated Syria and Israel he required a heavy tax from Ahaz king of Judah.
Problem 2: Bad Priests who were supposed to be leading people to Yaweh are leading the people to false Gods. People are doing violence to God through idol worship and temple prostitution. Temple prostitution, worship of Baal and other Gods...
Problem 3: Bad prophets were not leading people into repentance, but told people lies about their status and importance. They were arrogant towards God and did violence to themselves in that. the people had hardened themselves, refused to admit their guilt, did not face their depravity. The prophets were not leading the people to repentance.
Starting In Chapter 5:
God first gives the leaders a warning…hear, pay attention, listen… God holds leaders responsible for misleading deceiving and trapping othrs with religious political and social ideas that do not come from God. Bad leaders are destroying relationships…between the people and others, themselves, and God.
The leaders are being predators. God describes the people’s actions by using a hunting analogy. God calls them snares and a net spread out.
They are rebels deep in slaughter (kings going to war)—violent towards others An atmosphere of intrigue, deception, entrapment and violence, each group is trying to control the political scene…the kings led the people into war.
Turned to prostitution (priests lead people into idolatry)---violent towards god
Israiels arrogance testifies against them (prophets telling the people lies…)---violent towards Self
This is the first time that God is compared to a wild animal.
The people they are in trouble. They are grasping at solutions. But the solution was not in wars, or unholy alliances. It was not in worship of idols, or the power of positive thinking and self-esteem exercises.
I want to focus on
Hosea 5:14-6:3
For I will be like a lion to Ephraim,
like a great lion to Judah.
I will tear them to pieces and go away;
I will carry them off, with no one to rescue them.
Then I will go back to my place
until they admit their guilt.
And they will seek my face;
in their misery they will earnestly seek me."
"Come, let us return to the LORD.
He has torn us to pieces
but he will heal us;
he has injured us
but he will bind up our wounds.
After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will restore us,
that we may live in his presence.
Let us acknowledge the LORD;
let us press on to acknowledge him.
As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth."
God comes like a lion, and tears at his people. He goes back to his cave and waits for them to repent.
Three things to keep in mind.
1) God’s wrath isn’t a surprise. God warns the people and shows reluctance, but he will not allow his children to be harmed by bad leaders. So, God attacks those who are destroying good things…Gods wrath is a last resort. He warns, chastened them to wake them up, promised hope if they repent…then if all that fails, wrath.
2) God’s wrath is out of love. The purpose is to lead the people into a better relationship with him. God says now is the time for discipline...like a teacher disciplining students, God is bringing people back to his way of thinking through a painful process… God does not punish out of revenge. God's divine chastening of destruction and captivity will cause them to accept responsibility for their sins and realize that their only hope is to seek God. Isaiah 4:4 "The Lord will wash away the filth of the women of Zion; he will cleanse the bloodstains from Jerusalem by a spirit of judgment and a spirit of fire."
3) The duration of this period without God is limited only by the peoples’ unwillingness to seek God. God is powerful and dependable to respond to our repentance. The people have to acknowledge the Lord, and commit to knowing God in a covenant relationship. God is consistent and dependable…when and how he will heal and bandage are not specified.
God doesn’t just call himself a lion God describes himself as rot, or gangrene in the wounds of the people. Israel and Judah will be like injured soldiers whose wounds are festering with a terrible infection, which God won’t heal if they continue with their war plans. He describes himself as darkness and drought. When the people turn to him, they will experience healing, bandaging, dawn and seasonal rains.
You might be thinking that the wrath of God is just the Old Testament God. Jesus took on the wrath we deserve and we no longer have to face God’s wrath. I think that this is true. All of us (and all the parts of us) who submit to Christ and want to be covered are. But the NT talks about God’s wrath towards the parts that do not submit to this.
Romans 1:18 says that the wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness.
Romans 2:5 Moreover, because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath.
Its kind of like Jesus is an umbrella, covering us. John 3:36 Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God's wrath remains on him." Romans 5:9 says “Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God's wrath through him!”
But I think sometimes parts of us reject Christ’s covering. The bad leaders inside. If part of us is not under the umbrella—covered by Jesus’ sacrifice, than that part experiences God’s wrath.
Children will be safer after God gets through with the leaders. When our kings priests, parents are being bad, mean, beating kids, leading kids into idolatry, hurting kids. God protects kids by stopping the leaders. Gods people can’t get away with oppressing neighbors, flirting with other Gods, or living self centered lives which personal passions claim the highest priority. It does damage to relationships. Matthew 18:6 "But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea."
Hosea 11:10 "They will follow the LORD; he will roar like a lion. When he roars, his children will come trembling from the west." Kids come to Jesus. Kids are covered. Kids do not need to be afraid of God’s wrath, because they know that God, like Aslan of Narnia, will protect them from evil leaders. Kids already know God is more powerful than them.
Revelation, which gives us a picture of what is happening in heaven even now, shows Christ on a white horse with a sword. He is destroying lots of stuff. What is he destroying? 1 Corinthians 15:24-28 "Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death."
I believe the OT God is the same God. The OT God is angry. Our anger reflects God’s image.
I see it like this:
God Creates and Destroys
We create and destroy
But God creates good things and Destroys evil
We create evil things and Destroy good things.
God will destroy things that hurt his children. God will destroy things inside of us that are hurting the children inside of us.
Our culture refuses to accept a violent God, but we love violent movies, video games, and fight wars for the country. Maybe if we accepted a violent God we would stop needing so much external violence to reconcile our need for violence! If we refuse to accept a violent God, or bring the violent parts of us to battle with that God, who would crush those parts, we will play out our instinctual need to destroy externally, through violence towards ourselves, our relationship with God and others, instead of internally, in violently destroying evil inside of us, strongholds and principalities, etc.
God is like a doctor cutting out cancer. This is very comforting to me. I want God to violently kill my addictions, my unholy alliances, the crazy parts that insist on hurting kids inside of me.
Inside I’ve got this queen that insists on a kingdom of Chaos. No rules! Good queens protect the boundaries of their kingdom and don’t let bad stuff in. My queen lets bad stuff in all the time! Then the kids inside are beat up, and not safe.
I have priests that lead me into food worship, and worship of my emotions. Whatever I feel at a particular time becomes more true than any other reality. My priests point to my addictions for satisfaction…
I have prophets that tell me that my problem is I need to get involved with more, just meet the right guy, lose some weight, move, find a new job, and I will be better. Meanwhile, the little kids, the ones that need to be in healthy relationships with others, who need love and attention, that need to go to God with their needs, are neglected.
If I am willing to go to god with my violent parts, God will wound my bad leaders, leaving my prophets, kings and priests limping in order to remind them to follow him and be nice to kids inside. I think this is what happened this summer. God was mean to the bad leaders in me and the kids in me were glad.
In Chronicals of Narnia, the Silver Chair, this girl Jill is by a stream and wants a drink of water, but realizes there's a lion by the stream. He asks if she's thirsty, and she says she's dying of thirst. He says then drink. She asks if he would leave while she drinks. He growls. She says:
"Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.
"I make no promise", said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
"Do you eat girls?" she said.
"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the Lion.
Here is my poem I wrote:
The Comfort of your Violence
Tear me to pieces and return to your lair,
Until in my misery I seek you
Slay me with thirst
until I ask for living water
Attack me and rip me open,
my heart is laid bare before you.
Rip me off of my throne
So I know the safety of being second.
Lurk in my path
when I wander from your protection
Drive me on the plow
With your easy yolk upon me.
Stalk me with your keen senses
there is nowhere I can hide from your presence
Strip me naked
and save me from a life of lies.
Wound me
So you can heal me
Crush the rebellion in my soul
I submit to your rule
Block my path with thorns
So I stop to remember your ways
Ruin my vines and fig trees
I stop thrashing enough to hear your tenderness
Separate my bones and marrow, pierce my heart
then I will know your unfailing love.
Roar like a Lion
Trembling, I come to the shepard.
Pound the nails into my wrists
I am crucified with you yet I live.
Yes, God is a lion, but in Hosea he is also many other things: In addition to the lion, he is a forgiving and romantic husband (chs. 2-3), a loving parent (11:1-4; 14:3-4), a healing physician (14:4 [Heb 14:5]), fresh dew and the source of all blessing (14:5, 8 [Heb 14:6, 9]). He also is described as a moth (5:13), a fowler who traps birds (7:12), and a farmer (11:4). Each of these metaphors contributes to our understanding of the nature of God and his activity. All of them give us a fuller picture of who he is. All of us, are different things to different people at different times, ideally according to the needs of the moment. If he must be a lion in your life now, maybe in the future he will be something else.
I want to talk today about the comforting wrath of God.
Hosea: God is speaking of judging the Northern Kingdom for its sin (of many kinds). Some people might know it as the book as the one where the prophet has to go marry the whore.
Hosea is reporting what God spoke concerning their sorry state. He is talking to the
Northern kingdom, but makes it clear that Judah is not exempt.
There are three main problems:
Problem 1: Bad Kings are leading the people into violent wars: This is taking place 734-732 BC at that time the Rezin king of Syria joined Pekah king of Israel in attacking the king of Judah. They wanted to replace Ahaz or force him to join their coalition against Tiglath-Pileser II of Assyria. Resin and Pekas forces killed 120,000 of Ahas troups and took 200,000 people prisoner. These people are relatives! Then Ahaz got revenge by making an alliance with Assyria. After the Assyrian king defeated Syria and Israel he required a heavy tax from Ahaz king of Judah.
Problem 2: Bad Priests who were supposed to be leading people to Yaweh are leading the people to false Gods. People are doing violence to God through idol worship and temple prostitution. Temple prostitution, worship of Baal and other Gods...
Problem 3: Bad prophets were not leading people into repentance, but told people lies about their status and importance. They were arrogant towards God and did violence to themselves in that. the people had hardened themselves, refused to admit their guilt, did not face their depravity. The prophets were not leading the people to repentance.
Starting In Chapter 5:
God first gives the leaders a warning…hear, pay attention, listen… God holds leaders responsible for misleading deceiving and trapping othrs with religious political and social ideas that do not come from God. Bad leaders are destroying relationships…between the people and others, themselves, and God.
The leaders are being predators. God describes the people’s actions by using a hunting analogy. God calls them snares and a net spread out.
They are rebels deep in slaughter (kings going to war)—violent towards others An atmosphere of intrigue, deception, entrapment and violence, each group is trying to control the political scene…the kings led the people into war.
Turned to prostitution (priests lead people into idolatry)---violent towards god
Israiels arrogance testifies against them (prophets telling the people lies…)---violent towards Self
This is the first time that God is compared to a wild animal.
The people they are in trouble. They are grasping at solutions. But the solution was not in wars, or unholy alliances. It was not in worship of idols, or the power of positive thinking and self-esteem exercises.
I want to focus on
Hosea 5:14-6:3
For I will be like a lion to Ephraim,
like a great lion to Judah.
I will tear them to pieces and go away;
I will carry them off, with no one to rescue them.
Then I will go back to my place
until they admit their guilt.
And they will seek my face;
in their misery they will earnestly seek me."
"Come, let us return to the LORD.
He has torn us to pieces
but he will heal us;
he has injured us
but he will bind up our wounds.
After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will restore us,
that we may live in his presence.
Let us acknowledge the LORD;
let us press on to acknowledge him.
As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth."
God comes like a lion, and tears at his people. He goes back to his cave and waits for them to repent.
Three things to keep in mind.
1) God’s wrath isn’t a surprise. God warns the people and shows reluctance, but he will not allow his children to be harmed by bad leaders. So, God attacks those who are destroying good things…Gods wrath is a last resort. He warns, chastened them to wake them up, promised hope if they repent…then if all that fails, wrath.
2) God’s wrath is out of love. The purpose is to lead the people into a better relationship with him. God says now is the time for discipline...like a teacher disciplining students, God is bringing people back to his way of thinking through a painful process… God does not punish out of revenge. God's divine chastening of destruction and captivity will cause them to accept responsibility for their sins and realize that their only hope is to seek God. Isaiah 4:4 "The Lord will wash away the filth of the women of Zion; he will cleanse the bloodstains from Jerusalem by a spirit of judgment and a spirit of fire."
3) The duration of this period without God is limited only by the peoples’ unwillingness to seek God. God is powerful and dependable to respond to our repentance. The people have to acknowledge the Lord, and commit to knowing God in a covenant relationship. God is consistent and dependable…when and how he will heal and bandage are not specified.
God doesn’t just call himself a lion God describes himself as rot, or gangrene in the wounds of the people. Israel and Judah will be like injured soldiers whose wounds are festering with a terrible infection, which God won’t heal if they continue with their war plans. He describes himself as darkness and drought. When the people turn to him, they will experience healing, bandaging, dawn and seasonal rains.
You might be thinking that the wrath of God is just the Old Testament God. Jesus took on the wrath we deserve and we no longer have to face God’s wrath. I think that this is true. All of us (and all the parts of us) who submit to Christ and want to be covered are. But the NT talks about God’s wrath towards the parts that do not submit to this.
Romans 1:18 says that the wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness.
Romans 2:5 Moreover, because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath.
Its kind of like Jesus is an umbrella, covering us. John 3:36 Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God's wrath remains on him." Romans 5:9 says “Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God's wrath through him!”
But I think sometimes parts of us reject Christ’s covering. The bad leaders inside. If part of us is not under the umbrella—covered by Jesus’ sacrifice, than that part experiences God’s wrath.
Children will be safer after God gets through with the leaders. When our kings priests, parents are being bad, mean, beating kids, leading kids into idolatry, hurting kids. God protects kids by stopping the leaders. Gods people can’t get away with oppressing neighbors, flirting with other Gods, or living self centered lives which personal passions claim the highest priority. It does damage to relationships. Matthew 18:6 "But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea."
Hosea 11:10 "They will follow the LORD; he will roar like a lion. When he roars, his children will come trembling from the west." Kids come to Jesus. Kids are covered. Kids do not need to be afraid of God’s wrath, because they know that God, like Aslan of Narnia, will protect them from evil leaders. Kids already know God is more powerful than them.
Revelation, which gives us a picture of what is happening in heaven even now, shows Christ on a white horse with a sword. He is destroying lots of stuff. What is he destroying? 1 Corinthians 15:24-28 "Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death."
I believe the OT God is the same God. The OT God is angry. Our anger reflects God’s image.
I see it like this:
God Creates and Destroys
We create and destroy
But God creates good things and Destroys evil
We create evil things and Destroy good things.
God will destroy things that hurt his children. God will destroy things inside of us that are hurting the children inside of us.
Our culture refuses to accept a violent God, but we love violent movies, video games, and fight wars for the country. Maybe if we accepted a violent God we would stop needing so much external violence to reconcile our need for violence! If we refuse to accept a violent God, or bring the violent parts of us to battle with that God, who would crush those parts, we will play out our instinctual need to destroy externally, through violence towards ourselves, our relationship with God and others, instead of internally, in violently destroying evil inside of us, strongholds and principalities, etc.
God is like a doctor cutting out cancer. This is very comforting to me. I want God to violently kill my addictions, my unholy alliances, the crazy parts that insist on hurting kids inside of me.
Inside I’ve got this queen that insists on a kingdom of Chaos. No rules! Good queens protect the boundaries of their kingdom and don’t let bad stuff in. My queen lets bad stuff in all the time! Then the kids inside are beat up, and not safe.
I have priests that lead me into food worship, and worship of my emotions. Whatever I feel at a particular time becomes more true than any other reality. My priests point to my addictions for satisfaction…
I have prophets that tell me that my problem is I need to get involved with more, just meet the right guy, lose some weight, move, find a new job, and I will be better. Meanwhile, the little kids, the ones that need to be in healthy relationships with others, who need love and attention, that need to go to God with their needs, are neglected.
If I am willing to go to god with my violent parts, God will wound my bad leaders, leaving my prophets, kings and priests limping in order to remind them to follow him and be nice to kids inside. I think this is what happened this summer. God was mean to the bad leaders in me and the kids in me were glad.
In Chronicals of Narnia, the Silver Chair, this girl Jill is by a stream and wants a drink of water, but realizes there's a lion by the stream. He asks if she's thirsty, and she says she's dying of thirst. He says then drink. She asks if he would leave while she drinks. He growls. She says:
"Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.
"I make no promise", said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
"Do you eat girls?" she said.
"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the Lion.
Here is my poem I wrote:
The Comfort of your Violence
Tear me to pieces and return to your lair,
Until in my misery I seek you
Slay me with thirst
until I ask for living water
Attack me and rip me open,
my heart is laid bare before you.
Rip me off of my throne
So I know the safety of being second.
Lurk in my path
when I wander from your protection
Drive me on the plow
With your easy yolk upon me.
Stalk me with your keen senses
there is nowhere I can hide from your presence
Strip me naked
and save me from a life of lies.
Wound me
So you can heal me
Crush the rebellion in my soul
I submit to your rule
Block my path with thorns
So I stop to remember your ways
Ruin my vines and fig trees
I stop thrashing enough to hear your tenderness
Separate my bones and marrow, pierce my heart
then I will know your unfailing love.
Roar like a Lion
Trembling, I come to the shepard.
Pound the nails into my wrists
I am crucified with you yet I live.
Yes, God is a lion, but in Hosea he is also many other things: In addition to the lion, he is a forgiving and romantic husband (chs. 2-3), a loving parent (11:1-4; 14:3-4), a healing physician (14:4 [Heb 14:5]), fresh dew and the source of all blessing (14:5, 8 [Heb 14:6, 9]). He also is described as a moth (5:13), a fowler who traps birds (7:12), and a farmer (11:4). Each of these metaphors contributes to our understanding of the nature of God and his activity. All of them give us a fuller picture of who he is. All of us, are different things to different people at different times, ideally according to the needs of the moment. If he must be a lion in your life now, maybe in the future he will be something else.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Where to Live?
Denver;
My macaroni and cheese.
All this sunshine and no water is unhealthy for me.
Everybody likes it but its hardly anyone's favorite food.
Midwesterners with their bland taste buds move here.
But mac n' cheese tastes great on a camping trip.
Puerto Escondito;
Fresh Fish caught from the Sea;
Salsa from local vegetables, tortillas made on the spot.
I just got done surfing.
I have no agenda except to drink out of a coconut on a beach hammock.
I have no job.
Minneapolis;
Hot dish.
Its not too impressive but its got everything you need.
Cheese, noodles, meet, salt, hot, melty, saucy.
Its hardy just like the kids playing hockey on frozen ponds
all winter...
even when its 20 below.
Chicago;
My Ruben sandwich.
Saurcraut takes time to make and gets better with age.
I think its Jewish but Russians like them too.
Old men eat Rubens in Martini bars
Rubens are delicious but I can't have them every day!
New York;
The chef's special sushi roll.
I can't predict what will be in it, but it will be an exciting party.
Fresh and stylish, presentation is important
I could eat it every day
Until I get the bill!
Ireland;
Lamb Stew
Cooked slowly in a kettle.
In a pub filled with old farmers, families
Guinness tastes good there.
It feels like home; but not mine.
Eugene;
Organic Vegan black bean burger on a sprouted, uncooked bun.
I enjoy it every time I eat it.
With all my vegan hipter, seek, witch doctor, homeless philosopher friends
But sometimes I want a big steak.
And my vegan hipster seek witch doctor homeless philosopher friends do not eat steak.
I guess I haven't found the perfect dish.
My macaroni and cheese.
All this sunshine and no water is unhealthy for me.
Everybody likes it but its hardly anyone's favorite food.
Midwesterners with their bland taste buds move here.
But mac n' cheese tastes great on a camping trip.
Puerto Escondito;
Fresh Fish caught from the Sea;
Salsa from local vegetables, tortillas made on the spot.
I just got done surfing.
I have no agenda except to drink out of a coconut on a beach hammock.
I have no job.
Minneapolis;
Hot dish.
Its not too impressive but its got everything you need.
Cheese, noodles, meet, salt, hot, melty, saucy.
Its hardy just like the kids playing hockey on frozen ponds
all winter...
even when its 20 below.
Chicago;
My Ruben sandwich.
Saurcraut takes time to make and gets better with age.
I think its Jewish but Russians like them too.
Old men eat Rubens in Martini bars
Rubens are delicious but I can't have them every day!
New York;
The chef's special sushi roll.
I can't predict what will be in it, but it will be an exciting party.
Fresh and stylish, presentation is important
I could eat it every day
Until I get the bill!
Ireland;
Lamb Stew
Cooked slowly in a kettle.
In a pub filled with old farmers, families
Guinness tastes good there.
It feels like home; but not mine.
Eugene;
Organic Vegan black bean burger on a sprouted, uncooked bun.
I enjoy it every time I eat it.
With all my vegan hipter, seek, witch doctor, homeless philosopher friends
But sometimes I want a big steak.
And my vegan hipster seek witch doctor homeless philosopher friends do not eat steak.
I guess I haven't found the perfect dish.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Hope....
Hope is a lasso.
My tool that keeps me from accelerating into a chasm of hate
I try not to lasso what cant be caught,
Or grab hold of something that will hurt me.
But I am not a skilled cowgirl.
I am riding a bucking bronco and my aim is poor.
All my catches have left me weary.
I lasso shiny razors of success that cut my chords
Or wolverine romances who gnash their teeth at me
I lasso rainbows of self esteem,
that are never where they seem to be.
I aim for needy children, and broken communities,
who consume my energy once I catch them.
I have caught insatiable apetites
Empty wins, fad diets that proved intolorable company
The kinds of peace that demand too much compromise.
Approval that slowly imprisons me.
Sometimes I have lassoed myself, trying to contain my wildness.
But in doing that i tied up hope.
I do not like roping and reining, but giving up brings despair.
There is a Cowboy who tries to lasso me
He would catch me if I let him.
He would let me catch him if I aimed
He would let me on his horse.
We could lasso affection, exhuberance, serenity.
If I caught him, or allowed myself to be caught
I risk only loss of control.
But I grip the reins too tight.
My tool that keeps me from accelerating into a chasm of hate
I try not to lasso what cant be caught,
Or grab hold of something that will hurt me.
But I am not a skilled cowgirl.
I am riding a bucking bronco and my aim is poor.
All my catches have left me weary.
I lasso shiny razors of success that cut my chords
Or wolverine romances who gnash their teeth at me
I lasso rainbows of self esteem,
that are never where they seem to be.
I aim for needy children, and broken communities,
who consume my energy once I catch them.
I have caught insatiable apetites
Empty wins, fad diets that proved intolorable company
The kinds of peace that demand too much compromise.
Approval that slowly imprisons me.
Sometimes I have lassoed myself, trying to contain my wildness.
But in doing that i tied up hope.
I do not like roping and reining, but giving up brings despair.
There is a Cowboy who tries to lasso me
He would catch me if I let him.
He would let me catch him if I aimed
He would let me on his horse.
We could lasso affection, exhuberance, serenity.
If I caught him, or allowed myself to be caught
I risk only loss of control.
But I grip the reins too tight.
Teaching....
New Teachers believe that their belief in kids will be enough.
They read "Love and Logic" or "Discipline with out Stress"
They planned out their whole first month.
In control, confident...ready to shape new minds
Like a carver who whittles at a block of aspen
to recreate the image in his mind
of eagle or bear.
Seasoned teachers wonder if they are making a difference
Ten workshops later, students are still struggling
Some seem to respond on good days.
But they have ceased fighting
Kids will do what they want, all we can do is offer.
Like a carver who sets the block of aspen on a shelf
until it asks to be carved.
Hardly anyone becomes a master teacher.
If they do, they have learned to feel the pulse of the group
To recognize shifts in motivation, and flow like water
Finding a path through the smallest cracks in dams of resistance
relentless, but subtle...the path forms slowly.
Like a carver who lets each block of aspen speak
Uses the knots and curves, and carves only what is waiting to be revealed.
They read "Love and Logic" or "Discipline with out Stress"
They planned out their whole first month.
In control, confident...ready to shape new minds
Like a carver who whittles at a block of aspen
to recreate the image in his mind
of eagle or bear.
Seasoned teachers wonder if they are making a difference
Ten workshops later, students are still struggling
Some seem to respond on good days.
But they have ceased fighting
Kids will do what they want, all we can do is offer.
Like a carver who sets the block of aspen on a shelf
until it asks to be carved.
Hardly anyone becomes a master teacher.
If they do, they have learned to feel the pulse of the group
To recognize shifts in motivation, and flow like water
Finding a path through the smallest cracks in dams of resistance
relentless, but subtle...the path forms slowly.
Like a carver who lets each block of aspen speak
Uses the knots and curves, and carves only what is waiting to be revealed.
Friday, August 7, 2009
What I want!
First, I want to know what I want, and stop settling for instant gratification. I want to look good in a bikini. I want to love being in my skin. I want to exude feminine mystique; like Sophia Loren, Rickie Lee Jones, Biance--other confident girls I know. I want to find a place--or life--that feels like home without being confining.
I want to build some roots. I want to focus on letting Jesus' love in, and giving love to others. I want that to be enough direction when it seems like that is all Jesus is saying. When God is more specific, I don't want to miss her instruction. I want God to dethrone me, to help me put to death the parts of me that demand that I get my way all the time.
I want the ocean, a washboard stomach, to surf every day. To feel confident about the direction I am traveling, to pay attention enough to hear whispers of the Holy. I want to enjoy the sound of my feet hitting the dirt. I want to find relief for my pain. I want Ireland inside of me (solidarity, rugged acceptance to reality, bawdy earthiness, childlike astonishment, presence, pride in a culture and community, organic connection to the land.)
I want to have a relationship with the masculine--with the parts of God that are simple, strong and secure. I want to find the parts in myself that sing about sensory experiences. I want to live through my instinct, like an elephant who is strong and wise, able to protect, bonded to family. Not predator or prey. I want to be calmed by the touch of Father God, to experience his watchful eye like a lion watches an antelope with the intent to capture--God, capture the parts of me that are so good at running.
I want romance without guilt or obsession about "where we are going." I want to trust, and become vulnerable only to the extent I am able to trust and respect the other. I want to experience companionship with a peer. I want to sit on a beach and enjoy a sunset in an old 1940's bathing suit feeling completely at ease with my company. I want to slowly work through projections and find that I like the real person in front of me even better than the one I made up. I want to have a romance with an "innocent criminal"--someone who is obedient to God but not to institutions of men. I want to ride through my dreams with a fellow dreamer on a dream bicycle built for two. I want a partner whose vision fuels my creativity.
I want to "mother" in some way, but I don't really want biological children. Maybe mentoring younger people or other Christians. I want to write the rest of my life. I want to taste and see that God is good, and enjoy food too. I want my bike to go on many adventures. I want my scars to have dignity, like knots on a cypress tree. Then I want to ride bikes still when I am an old lady. I want to learn to be astonished every day. And learn to do handstand pushups.
Thats about it.
I want to build some roots. I want to focus on letting Jesus' love in, and giving love to others. I want that to be enough direction when it seems like that is all Jesus is saying. When God is more specific, I don't want to miss her instruction. I want God to dethrone me, to help me put to death the parts of me that demand that I get my way all the time.
I want the ocean, a washboard stomach, to surf every day. To feel confident about the direction I am traveling, to pay attention enough to hear whispers of the Holy. I want to enjoy the sound of my feet hitting the dirt. I want to find relief for my pain. I want Ireland inside of me (solidarity, rugged acceptance to reality, bawdy earthiness, childlike astonishment, presence, pride in a culture and community, organic connection to the land.)
I want to have a relationship with the masculine--with the parts of God that are simple, strong and secure. I want to find the parts in myself that sing about sensory experiences. I want to live through my instinct, like an elephant who is strong and wise, able to protect, bonded to family. Not predator or prey. I want to be calmed by the touch of Father God, to experience his watchful eye like a lion watches an antelope with the intent to capture--God, capture the parts of me that are so good at running.
I want romance without guilt or obsession about "where we are going." I want to trust, and become vulnerable only to the extent I am able to trust and respect the other. I want to experience companionship with a peer. I want to sit on a beach and enjoy a sunset in an old 1940's bathing suit feeling completely at ease with my company. I want to slowly work through projections and find that I like the real person in front of me even better than the one I made up. I want to have a romance with an "innocent criminal"--someone who is obedient to God but not to institutions of men. I want to ride through my dreams with a fellow dreamer on a dream bicycle built for two. I want a partner whose vision fuels my creativity.
I want to "mother" in some way, but I don't really want biological children. Maybe mentoring younger people or other Christians. I want to write the rest of my life. I want to taste and see that God is good, and enjoy food too. I want my bike to go on many adventures. I want my scars to have dignity, like knots on a cypress tree. Then I want to ride bikes still when I am an old lady. I want to learn to be astonished every day. And learn to do handstand pushups.
Thats about it.
Too many Margaritas
"Here I am with my heart on the floor my love out the door," playing on the radio
Too many errands today. I watched half of the season of "The Office" and best of Mike Myers while cleaning my room.
Dina's advice; "Its not the end of enything its not the beginning of anything its a continuation; you were meant to participate in every part of it"--I hate that kind of advice.
The song; "I have nothing to show for, except some pictures I keep them in a box under my bed."
Its Sara's last night, we've all drunk too many margaritas, and I have ate too may M&Ms (Sara hid the rest).
Too many errands today. I watched half of the season of "The Office" and best of Mike Myers while cleaning my room.
Dina's advice; "Its not the end of enything its not the beginning of anything its a continuation; you were meant to participate in every part of it"--I hate that kind of advice.
The song; "I have nothing to show for, except some pictures I keep them in a box under my bed."
Its Sara's last night, we've all drunk too many margaritas, and I have ate too may M&Ms (Sara hid the rest).
Monday, August 3, 2009
Trash
I could write a whole book on my friend Trash. Trash grew up in Albany to an overbearing mother and an overaccomodating father. Mom was a nurse, dad was a community organizer. Trash was born to challenge expectations. In 8th grade, without his mother knowing, he rode the city bus down to the private Catholic military boy's school, took an entrance exam, and got a full-ride scholarship. His mother forbade him to attend. He would be socially awkward and she didn't want her boys fighting. Father said it was ok. So Trash attended school, and like his mother predicted, did not have a romantic relationships with a girl until he was 27. His parents don't know about any of his relationships, and think that he is gay. He refuses to clear it up.
I met Trash when I did an exchange at the Air Force Academy. Trash is brilliant but hates meeting expectations, so he was a classic underachiever. He double majored in Computer Science and Mathematics. I met him in a math class; or maybe Officer's Christian Fellowship. (He was a guilt-ridden Catholic back then). Any chance he got, he climbed Colorado 14ers in the dark, or drove too fast in his Miata. (He had several warrants for his arrest in various states for speeding--all of which he had to clear up before he could get top secret clearance.) Trash was born for cold weather. He took me and a few friends to Pikes Peak in the winter, in the dark. He slipped across the icy trail in a t-shirt and shorts! When he was at combat survival school (a school where people learn to handle torture) Trash was the only pilot who did not respond to lengthy exposure to frigid water. Trash wore a pair of white long underwear most of the way up Mt. McKinley. The heat is so intolerable to him that when Trash got stationed in Vegas and hated it so much he had to drink 7 beers a night just to fall asleep.
Trash and I decided to ride our bikes across country when we graduated. On the way to the airport, Trash crashed his Miata with his bike on it. He hitched a ride with the Tow Truck who brought him to the airport. So, Trash showed up the night before our ride with a broken bike. We raced across town to the one bike store that might still be open; when we got there, they had just closed! As desperate people do, we threatened bad Karma and intense badgering at the front door if the cleaning employees didn't help us. They reluctantly let us in and fixed the basics on Trash's bike. The next day we started riding from the Oregon Coast, and rode 180 miles through the coastal mountains and the Cascades in the pouring rain. When we were high enough in the cascades it started to snow. I experienced my first intense bout of hypothermia. At first I was cold, shivering convulsively. As we continued up the mountain pass, I began to turn a little blue. It was hard to tell if I was riding uphill or downhill. Trash said I started to weave and when he stopped me, I said that I was warming up. He knew we were in trouble then, and flagged my mom who was supporting us on our first leg. I shivered for four hours in a hot tub. Trash said many people would pay money to see a person get hypothermia. He thought it was interesting.
When we left the second day, I made my mom drive us to the exact point we got into the car, just to make sure we covered every square inch of the journey. That day Trash's wheel broke, and we barely made it the nearest bike shop. The beginning was the worst. Our fortunes improved the rest of the trip. For 28 days we averaged 120 miles a day. In each of the towns we planned to stop in, we had contacted friends of friends, parents from the parents clubs of the Air Force and Naval Academy, and loose acquaintances. So we had a place to stay each night. I had this theory before the trip that romance was simply a matter of presence, and if two people spent enough time together they would eventually become attracted to each other. Now, I don't think that is true. After five days, I was sick of hearing about the Politics surrounding a rare species of butterfly, how to write a computer program in C++, musings on the sociology of bovine communities, the height of corn as it varied from state to state. Back then, I didn't like hearing about all Trash's obscure fields of expertise. Now, I am more interested.
Trash is not really his name. But Trash is a name he was given once. When we got to Boston on our ride, one my friend’s parents (she is a little loony sometimes) was trying to recall his name. She burst out in recollection, "Trash, that's right". Both Trash and I liked it. Trash kind of fits him.
Trash likes to be nude. Not in a sexual, sensual, perverse, provocative way. In the same way that this old man in Italy who claimed a home in an abandoned railroad tunnel on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea between two towns along the Cinque Terra. Trash found out about a nudist colony in France with a grocery store--he couldn't wait to grocery shop naked. One time Trash got beaten with a phonebook by cops in New Orleans because he flashed some ladies for beads. Trash has shown up to a good many parties naked. Trash also applied to be a male stripper while living in Vegas (He figured he may as well make a living doing something he liked, and he is very egalitarian...always contributing to the fight for equality of men and women.) The strip joints asked if he could sing and dance. "We do dance numbers here...it’s a little different then female stripping where girls just show up and do their thing." When Trash said he could neither sing nor dance, they had a good excuse to turn him down (although a few did mention he might want to bulk up a bit if he wanted to be considered in the future--He is 6'2" and 165lbs) They didn't say anything about his disproportionately large feet, hands and nose (maybe they believed that was evidence of the size of his package). Trash settled for using his free time in Vegas building a plane out of metal scraps.
My favorite story about Trash takes place on his first tour to Afghanistan as a rescue pilot. Trash had time on his hands, and needed to get his mind off the heat, so he researched the process for making alcohol. He discovered an ingenious process for making grain alcohol in a wartime situation. He first stole yeast from the chow hall. He fermented sugar water with the yeast outside his tent in the 140 degree Afghani sun for two weeks. He then acquired two buckets. One was large and had a lid, and the other was lidless and fit inside the large bucket. He placed the smaller bucket in the larger bucket and filled the smaller bucket with the fermented sugar water. He ordered a fish tank heater online, placed the fish tank heater in the small bucket. He then placed the whole contraption in the refrigerator. As the fermented sugar water was heated with the fish tank heater, the alcohol evaporated. It then condensed on the inside of the lid of the larger bucket, cooled, and the droplets rolled down the edges of the larger bucket and collected at the bottom. This process of distillation was then repeated a second time, producing 140 proof hard liquor. Trash’s liquor made him one of the most powerful men in Afghanistan. He now had the ultimate bargaining tool. Among the many things Trash gained possession of was a 6-month shipment of Otis Spunkmeyer muffins which had been sent to the Chow Hall. Trash used the canvas from torn down tents to make mini-parachutes. He then loaded up the muffins in trash bags, tied the parachutes to them, and dropped the muffins from his Helo as he performed low-flying operations over Afghani villages. Trash called his actions “Operation Peace Muffin.” Evidence supports the fact that his operations had a huge impact on American-Afghani relations. Previously, Trash’s crew had reported hostile reception from the villagers, as the helo was frequently the target of rocks and sticks. Once Operation Peace Muffin was in effect, villagers greeted American helos with great joy, waiting for the manna from heaven.
Trash has crossed the country by bike, train, motorcycle, car, and plane. He is good at all forms of transportation, swimming, boating and running too, only you can't cross the country swimming or boating, and he hasn't had time to run it. Since our cross-country ride Trash has come to Colorado to climb the 14ers. He always invites me even though I am much slower than him. The first one we did was Bierstadt. Its only 3.1 miles round trip, making it the easiest 14er. Trash and I did it in the middle of winter, though. Under the cover of the snow, these 2.5 foot bushes were buried. For five hours we wrestled our snow shoes out of the bush branches underneath us, to reach the summit. Trash had forgotten his winter coat, and was in a long underwear shirt. On the way down, despite my insecure protests (I trusted Trash’s experience, if not his judgment) Trash kept taking us left, left, left all the way down. When we had reached the base, we were 180 degrees from my car, and nightfall was approaching! We had no more food or water, and couldn’t see in front of us. Somehow we found my car after 10 hours of groping in the dark.
Another time we climbed Lincoln. After the Bierstadt trip, I was concerned I would not have enough grace for the chaos that I would inevitably experience hanging out with Trash. Driving up to the mountains to meet him, I prayed that I would have the grace to treat Trash with respect and kindness. I imagined that prayer being answered by Trash doing something I thought lacked any common sense, while I brushed it aside with a tinkling laugh like Audrey Hepburn. Instead, after we climbed the mountain and returned to our base camp, I felt really sick from the altitude. While Trash cooked dinner, I went inside Trashes $500 tent to lie down. My nausea felt worse by the time he finally joined me, and I asked if he had a plastic bag just in case. While he looked, I projectile vomited all over his felt-lined tent, his $800 sleeping bag, his face. All Trash said was, “Mmmm, I was cold and now I am warm! Plus it smells like pizza!” We had to pack up the base camp in the dark, wrap up the barfy top-of-the line gear, and hike back to my truck. I then thought I lost my cell phone, and made Trash trapse back up to base camp with me to find it. I finally found my phone as I emptied my car out after we returned. I suppose my prayer was answered. It was easy to be gracious to Trash, because he was the most gracious person to ever be barfed on.
Trash is an artist genius computer programmer. He wrote a program for the Air Force that spits out awards, and wrote a program for his colonel’s wife that helped her complete her graduate work. He does it for free—I guess that gives him a little wiggle room when it comes to meeting Air Force expectations. For instance, during the work day, he alone drinks all the beer left in the squadron refrigerator (which is filled at the rate of one 6 pack from every student going on a check ride). On The last climbing trip I went on with Trash, he brought two bottles of wine in Nalgene bottles to enjoy at base camp.
In Japan, Trash lives out in town with a housing allowance. One of the stipulations is that he can not sublet his apartment. So he has two Japanese women living there rent free in exchange for their cooking, cleaning and companionship. As one can imagine, most in Trash's command believe that Trash rules a harem of Japanese women. Trash never bothers to clear up rumors. So, Trash’s parents continue to think he is gay, and Trash’s grandparents gossip about all the women he goes on camping trips with.
I am so grateful for Trash's last visit to CO! I was in the throes of despair when he forced me to climb Snow Mass with him and a girl friend of his. I met them in Aspen, and we completed a fairly leisurely 3-day, 25 mile round trip summit. I had a really good time. The first day, getting out there, I was so down. Once I got going, endorphins kicked in, and I felt better. It was really low key; no pressure, and a slow pace. We hiked 10 miles in and pitched a tent at Snow Mass lake. Then the next day we climbed Snow Mass. It was really beautiful and dangerous. We got caught in a hail storm at the top and both me and Trash got electrocuted a little bit..adrenaline always helps depression. I was forced out of my funk and it was really pretty. Plus we had mac-n-cheese-tuna dinner with red wine the first night, and tortilla soup with Trash's patented couscous, raisin, almond, chicken breast, cracker side dish the second night. Trash and I were the only ones to summit due to a sudden hail storm early afternoon. I might not always trust Trash's sense of safety, but I always trust his sense of adventure. After we climbed up the steep precipice to the top,I stood up, getting just a tiny bit electrocuted. When I sat back down, my hair stuck straight up. We downed a salami, sheep Parmesan, blueberry bagel sandwich and returned, tennis shoes slipping on the hail-littered boulders. Trash's bald head got just a little electrocuted as we started down. We slid down snow fields on the way down; me on my butt, Trash skiing on his unusually large feat. Both Trash and I agreed the storm was one of the most amazing beauties we had ever seen. The way the storm rolled in on us, then over us, then rolled below us reminded me of the Holy. Then, after stopping at Trash' favorite dive diner on the way home, we saw a beautiful rainbow.
Where will Trash’s life take him, once he is released from the shackles of his Air Force commitment? First, somewhere cold. He wants to finish is plane, become an airplane mechanic, a hairdresser (they are really the best therapists—plus they hear the best stories) A bush pilot, an aviation lawyer, an engineer, contractor, consultant, computer repairman/programmer, and car mechanic. Trash will probably set up a storefront in Northern Alaska with little wooden signs advertising all of his services. I will not live in Alaska. But maybe Trash will give me permission to write the book!
I met Trash when I did an exchange at the Air Force Academy. Trash is brilliant but hates meeting expectations, so he was a classic underachiever. He double majored in Computer Science and Mathematics. I met him in a math class; or maybe Officer's Christian Fellowship. (He was a guilt-ridden Catholic back then). Any chance he got, he climbed Colorado 14ers in the dark, or drove too fast in his Miata. (He had several warrants for his arrest in various states for speeding--all of which he had to clear up before he could get top secret clearance.) Trash was born for cold weather. He took me and a few friends to Pikes Peak in the winter, in the dark. He slipped across the icy trail in a t-shirt and shorts! When he was at combat survival school (a school where people learn to handle torture) Trash was the only pilot who did not respond to lengthy exposure to frigid water. Trash wore a pair of white long underwear most of the way up Mt. McKinley. The heat is so intolerable to him that when Trash got stationed in Vegas and hated it so much he had to drink 7 beers a night just to fall asleep.
Trash and I decided to ride our bikes across country when we graduated. On the way to the airport, Trash crashed his Miata with his bike on it. He hitched a ride with the Tow Truck who brought him to the airport. So, Trash showed up the night before our ride with a broken bike. We raced across town to the one bike store that might still be open; when we got there, they had just closed! As desperate people do, we threatened bad Karma and intense badgering at the front door if the cleaning employees didn't help us. They reluctantly let us in and fixed the basics on Trash's bike. The next day we started riding from the Oregon Coast, and rode 180 miles through the coastal mountains and the Cascades in the pouring rain. When we were high enough in the cascades it started to snow. I experienced my first intense bout of hypothermia. At first I was cold, shivering convulsively. As we continued up the mountain pass, I began to turn a little blue. It was hard to tell if I was riding uphill or downhill. Trash said I started to weave and when he stopped me, I said that I was warming up. He knew we were in trouble then, and flagged my mom who was supporting us on our first leg. I shivered for four hours in a hot tub. Trash said many people would pay money to see a person get hypothermia. He thought it was interesting.
When we left the second day, I made my mom drive us to the exact point we got into the car, just to make sure we covered every square inch of the journey. That day Trash's wheel broke, and we barely made it the nearest bike shop. The beginning was the worst. Our fortunes improved the rest of the trip. For 28 days we averaged 120 miles a day. In each of the towns we planned to stop in, we had contacted friends of friends, parents from the parents clubs of the Air Force and Naval Academy, and loose acquaintances. So we had a place to stay each night. I had this theory before the trip that romance was simply a matter of presence, and if two people spent enough time together they would eventually become attracted to each other. Now, I don't think that is true. After five days, I was sick of hearing about the Politics surrounding a rare species of butterfly, how to write a computer program in C++, musings on the sociology of bovine communities, the height of corn as it varied from state to state. Back then, I didn't like hearing about all Trash's obscure fields of expertise. Now, I am more interested.
Trash is not really his name. But Trash is a name he was given once. When we got to Boston on our ride, one my friend’s parents (she is a little loony sometimes) was trying to recall his name. She burst out in recollection, "Trash, that's right". Both Trash and I liked it. Trash kind of fits him.
Trash likes to be nude. Not in a sexual, sensual, perverse, provocative way. In the same way that this old man in Italy who claimed a home in an abandoned railroad tunnel on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea between two towns along the Cinque Terra. Trash found out about a nudist colony in France with a grocery store--he couldn't wait to grocery shop naked. One time Trash got beaten with a phonebook by cops in New Orleans because he flashed some ladies for beads. Trash has shown up to a good many parties naked. Trash also applied to be a male stripper while living in Vegas (He figured he may as well make a living doing something he liked, and he is very egalitarian...always contributing to the fight for equality of men and women.) The strip joints asked if he could sing and dance. "We do dance numbers here...it’s a little different then female stripping where girls just show up and do their thing." When Trash said he could neither sing nor dance, they had a good excuse to turn him down (although a few did mention he might want to bulk up a bit if he wanted to be considered in the future--He is 6'2" and 165lbs) They didn't say anything about his disproportionately large feet, hands and nose (maybe they believed that was evidence of the size of his package). Trash settled for using his free time in Vegas building a plane out of metal scraps.
My favorite story about Trash takes place on his first tour to Afghanistan as a rescue pilot. Trash had time on his hands, and needed to get his mind off the heat, so he researched the process for making alcohol. He discovered an ingenious process for making grain alcohol in a wartime situation. He first stole yeast from the chow hall. He fermented sugar water with the yeast outside his tent in the 140 degree Afghani sun for two weeks. He then acquired two buckets. One was large and had a lid, and the other was lidless and fit inside the large bucket. He placed the smaller bucket in the larger bucket and filled the smaller bucket with the fermented sugar water. He ordered a fish tank heater online, placed the fish tank heater in the small bucket. He then placed the whole contraption in the refrigerator. As the fermented sugar water was heated with the fish tank heater, the alcohol evaporated. It then condensed on the inside of the lid of the larger bucket, cooled, and the droplets rolled down the edges of the larger bucket and collected at the bottom. This process of distillation was then repeated a second time, producing 140 proof hard liquor. Trash’s liquor made him one of the most powerful men in Afghanistan. He now had the ultimate bargaining tool. Among the many things Trash gained possession of was a 6-month shipment of Otis Spunkmeyer muffins which had been sent to the Chow Hall. Trash used the canvas from torn down tents to make mini-parachutes. He then loaded up the muffins in trash bags, tied the parachutes to them, and dropped the muffins from his Helo as he performed low-flying operations over Afghani villages. Trash called his actions “Operation Peace Muffin.” Evidence supports the fact that his operations had a huge impact on American-Afghani relations. Previously, Trash’s crew had reported hostile reception from the villagers, as the helo was frequently the target of rocks and sticks. Once Operation Peace Muffin was in effect, villagers greeted American helos with great joy, waiting for the manna from heaven.
Trash has crossed the country by bike, train, motorcycle, car, and plane. He is good at all forms of transportation, swimming, boating and running too, only you can't cross the country swimming or boating, and he hasn't had time to run it. Since our cross-country ride Trash has come to Colorado to climb the 14ers. He always invites me even though I am much slower than him. The first one we did was Bierstadt. Its only 3.1 miles round trip, making it the easiest 14er. Trash and I did it in the middle of winter, though. Under the cover of the snow, these 2.5 foot bushes were buried. For five hours we wrestled our snow shoes out of the bush branches underneath us, to reach the summit. Trash had forgotten his winter coat, and was in a long underwear shirt. On the way down, despite my insecure protests (I trusted Trash’s experience, if not his judgment) Trash kept taking us left, left, left all the way down. When we had reached the base, we were 180 degrees from my car, and nightfall was approaching! We had no more food or water, and couldn’t see in front of us. Somehow we found my car after 10 hours of groping in the dark.
Another time we climbed Lincoln. After the Bierstadt trip, I was concerned I would not have enough grace for the chaos that I would inevitably experience hanging out with Trash. Driving up to the mountains to meet him, I prayed that I would have the grace to treat Trash with respect and kindness. I imagined that prayer being answered by Trash doing something I thought lacked any common sense, while I brushed it aside with a tinkling laugh like Audrey Hepburn. Instead, after we climbed the mountain and returned to our base camp, I felt really sick from the altitude. While Trash cooked dinner, I went inside Trashes $500 tent to lie down. My nausea felt worse by the time he finally joined me, and I asked if he had a plastic bag just in case. While he looked, I projectile vomited all over his felt-lined tent, his $800 sleeping bag, his face. All Trash said was, “Mmmm, I was cold and now I am warm! Plus it smells like pizza!” We had to pack up the base camp in the dark, wrap up the barfy top-of-the line gear, and hike back to my truck. I then thought I lost my cell phone, and made Trash trapse back up to base camp with me to find it. I finally found my phone as I emptied my car out after we returned. I suppose my prayer was answered. It was easy to be gracious to Trash, because he was the most gracious person to ever be barfed on.
Trash is an artist genius computer programmer. He wrote a program for the Air Force that spits out awards, and wrote a program for his colonel’s wife that helped her complete her graduate work. He does it for free—I guess that gives him a little wiggle room when it comes to meeting Air Force expectations. For instance, during the work day, he alone drinks all the beer left in the squadron refrigerator (which is filled at the rate of one 6 pack from every student going on a check ride). On The last climbing trip I went on with Trash, he brought two bottles of wine in Nalgene bottles to enjoy at base camp.
In Japan, Trash lives out in town with a housing allowance. One of the stipulations is that he can not sublet his apartment. So he has two Japanese women living there rent free in exchange for their cooking, cleaning and companionship. As one can imagine, most in Trash's command believe that Trash rules a harem of Japanese women. Trash never bothers to clear up rumors. So, Trash’s parents continue to think he is gay, and Trash’s grandparents gossip about all the women he goes on camping trips with.
I am so grateful for Trash's last visit to CO! I was in the throes of despair when he forced me to climb Snow Mass with him and a girl friend of his. I met them in Aspen, and we completed a fairly leisurely 3-day, 25 mile round trip summit. I had a really good time. The first day, getting out there, I was so down. Once I got going, endorphins kicked in, and I felt better. It was really low key; no pressure, and a slow pace. We hiked 10 miles in and pitched a tent at Snow Mass lake. Then the next day we climbed Snow Mass. It was really beautiful and dangerous. We got caught in a hail storm at the top and both me and Trash got electrocuted a little bit..adrenaline always helps depression. I was forced out of my funk and it was really pretty. Plus we had mac-n-cheese-tuna dinner with red wine the first night, and tortilla soup with Trash's patented couscous, raisin, almond, chicken breast, cracker side dish the second night. Trash and I were the only ones to summit due to a sudden hail storm early afternoon. I might not always trust Trash's sense of safety, but I always trust his sense of adventure. After we climbed up the steep precipice to the top,I stood up, getting just a tiny bit electrocuted. When I sat back down, my hair stuck straight up. We downed a salami, sheep Parmesan, blueberry bagel sandwich and returned, tennis shoes slipping on the hail-littered boulders. Trash's bald head got just a little electrocuted as we started down. We slid down snow fields on the way down; me on my butt, Trash skiing on his unusually large feat. Both Trash and I agreed the storm was one of the most amazing beauties we had ever seen. The way the storm rolled in on us, then over us, then rolled below us reminded me of the Holy. Then, after stopping at Trash' favorite dive diner on the way home, we saw a beautiful rainbow.
Where will Trash’s life take him, once he is released from the shackles of his Air Force commitment? First, somewhere cold. He wants to finish is plane, become an airplane mechanic, a hairdresser (they are really the best therapists—plus they hear the best stories) A bush pilot, an aviation lawyer, an engineer, contractor, consultant, computer repairman/programmer, and car mechanic. Trash will probably set up a storefront in Northern Alaska with little wooden signs advertising all of his services. I will not live in Alaska. But maybe Trash will give me permission to write the book!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Bicycles
Are bikes like their owners?
Some bikes are top of the line, aerodynamic carbon fiber bikes with titanium components. They are the fastest of all the bikes, but whole identity is wrapped up in their appearance. Soon they will be an old hand-me-down and cease to have identity in their own minds.
Some bikes just want to have fun. Bright colored cruisers with baskets and horns, and chrome fenders. They do not move with a purpose though, and don't get used often. They get to go parks and participate in parades, but they don't get to do real work.
The family bike is usually moderately priced, sturdy, able to pull a baby wagon, hybrid, not really good at anything but pretty good at a lot of things. After all, bikes have to make some sacrifices when they have a family.
Adventure bikes have huge shocks to tolerate a lot of pain. They are only happy on the edge, and get worn out the quickest. Joint replacements are common. These adrenaline junkies who were made for the edges of cliffs.
Recycled bikes make the best of whats around. "It is what it is" is their motto. There is no sense reaching for the stars. Instead of needing to be the best, recycled bikes do the best with what they have.
Vintage classics get cooler with age. They are slow, and don't try to impress anyone, but get along with all bikes. They are not always excited about getting out of the house, but when they do, they get the job done. They often get passed down. They are interested in their legacy.
Track bikes are hip and impractial. I tried one for a while, but I ran into a missionary riding one downtown. I guess I am not that hip.
My bike is a fancy frankenstine bike with half mountain bike and half road bike components. It cost my life's savings. It can fold up into a suitcase, and likes to travel abroad. It is ridden every day of the year. When you look at it its not much to see. But it is the only one of its kind, and very unique and special.
Some bikes are top of the line, aerodynamic carbon fiber bikes with titanium components. They are the fastest of all the bikes, but whole identity is wrapped up in their appearance. Soon they will be an old hand-me-down and cease to have identity in their own minds.
Some bikes just want to have fun. Bright colored cruisers with baskets and horns, and chrome fenders. They do not move with a purpose though, and don't get used often. They get to go parks and participate in parades, but they don't get to do real work.
The family bike is usually moderately priced, sturdy, able to pull a baby wagon, hybrid, not really good at anything but pretty good at a lot of things. After all, bikes have to make some sacrifices when they have a family.
Adventure bikes have huge shocks to tolerate a lot of pain. They are only happy on the edge, and get worn out the quickest. Joint replacements are common. These adrenaline junkies who were made for the edges of cliffs.
Recycled bikes make the best of whats around. "It is what it is" is their motto. There is no sense reaching for the stars. Instead of needing to be the best, recycled bikes do the best with what they have.
Vintage classics get cooler with age. They are slow, and don't try to impress anyone, but get along with all bikes. They are not always excited about getting out of the house, but when they do, they get the job done. They often get passed down. They are interested in their legacy.
Track bikes are hip and impractial. I tried one for a while, but I ran into a missionary riding one downtown. I guess I am not that hip.
My bike is a fancy frankenstine bike with half mountain bike and half road bike components. It cost my life's savings. It can fold up into a suitcase, and likes to travel abroad. It is ridden every day of the year. When you look at it its not much to see. But it is the only one of its kind, and very unique and special.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Harmonica
Anyone can play the harmonica.
Most can get good at the harmonica in a year if they practice.
One time I jumped off the Pirates of the Carabean ride at Disneyland and slowly played a pirate tune as boats passed. Even though I was dressed in plain clothes, tourists thought I was really a mechanical pirate. Pirates love harmonicas.
Bob Dylan is a poet. His harmonica plays a poem. Wavering, whining about the loneliness of the open road and love lost. Whistling camp fires, and carrying the listeners forward to the rythm of a locomotive. Tramps love to play harmonicas in rail cars.
Anyone can afford a harmonica. Thats why slaves played them. Call and response, blues tunes are carried by the harmonica. Most of the time it is an intermittent sound. Like an old grandpa piping out wisdom in a salty vernacular.
My own harmonica is rusty from neglect.
Most can get good at the harmonica in a year if they practice.
One time I jumped off the Pirates of the Carabean ride at Disneyland and slowly played a pirate tune as boats passed. Even though I was dressed in plain clothes, tourists thought I was really a mechanical pirate. Pirates love harmonicas.
Bob Dylan is a poet. His harmonica plays a poem. Wavering, whining about the loneliness of the open road and love lost. Whistling camp fires, and carrying the listeners forward to the rythm of a locomotive. Tramps love to play harmonicas in rail cars.
Anyone can afford a harmonica. Thats why slaves played them. Call and response, blues tunes are carried by the harmonica. Most of the time it is an intermittent sound. Like an old grandpa piping out wisdom in a salty vernacular.
My own harmonica is rusty from neglect.
Heavenly Parent
Jesus showed friendship, sacrifice. He put up with crap. He experienced intense pain and died. Jesus is is repped good pastors I have had. Always my advocate, always gently prodding, like a good shepard. I know Jesus's empathy and comraderie.
The holy spirit is like the storm that rushed in on us on the top of Snow Mass, dumping hail, radiating static electricity, rushing down into the valley below us. The holy spirit is in me, prodding me to pray, to say sorry I hurt you, to go to target today to get a CD player to replace the one that I broke.
God the Father is repped by my earthly fathers. My dad was loving, supportive, enthusiastic, undertanding. I can tell him anything and he will still love me.
But I don't know the God of purpose, who gives good counsel. I do not know the God who guides me in the right paths. I do not know the God who pursues me, and somehow created me to want precicely what he intends to give me. This same Heavenly father refuses to give me things that are not good, even if I beg for them.
Here is the God I do not know:
God who delights in me
God who loves revealing himself to me.
The God who pursues me
The God who desires me
The God who brings me Joy
The God who protects me
The God who guides me
The God who counsels me
The God who romances me
The God who defends me
The God who cares for me
The God who shows me affection
The God who is eager to receive me.
The holy spirit is like the storm that rushed in on us on the top of Snow Mass, dumping hail, radiating static electricity, rushing down into the valley below us. The holy spirit is in me, prodding me to pray, to say sorry I hurt you, to go to target today to get a CD player to replace the one that I broke.
God the Father is repped by my earthly fathers. My dad was loving, supportive, enthusiastic, undertanding. I can tell him anything and he will still love me.
But I don't know the God of purpose, who gives good counsel. I do not know the God who guides me in the right paths. I do not know the God who pursues me, and somehow created me to want precicely what he intends to give me. This same Heavenly father refuses to give me things that are not good, even if I beg for them.
Here is the God I do not know:
God who delights in me
God who loves revealing himself to me.
The God who pursues me
The God who desires me
The God who brings me Joy
The God who protects me
The God who guides me
The God who counsels me
The God who romances me
The God who defends me
The God who cares for me
The God who shows me affection
The God who is eager to receive me.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
One-way conversation
What changed? Did you learn something new about me? Did you do that play and realize I was like that spoiled rich girl and my laugh would become insufferable? I think it would be helpful for me to know. For me there were some irreconcilable differences, some things that came up about me that I needed to deal with. That didn't change the way I felt about you. I guess when we broke up it seemed like the right thing to do for now, but I didn't think it would be like this. I think it would help to understand how things changed for you, if you are willing to tell me.
Its just really hard for me to move through. I don't know what is true. I tried to be honest with you. I was too honest at times. There are things (especially negative, critical things) I wish I hadn't said. Honesty is so wierd. What I am feeling is not true most of the time, so if I honestly express whatever lie I am believing, is it truely honest? Is something honest if it is sincere, or does honesty have to do with a relationship to an objective truth?
Along the same vein, you are a good actor. You are so different now than you were before, and you are so good, that I can't tell what is real. What did you say that you meant? If something drastically changed in the way you felt about me, I guess that explains it, but overnight? Or were you acting? (Then or now?)
I guess when I broke up with you I thought it was a break. Not forever. Not broken forever, just a break.
Maybe I can be summed up still as the girl who doesn't know what she wants.
You don't have any obligation to me, you can't fix me, but I think you could help me complete the loss. I think it would help to understand. I never want something like this to happen again, and maybe you could help me.
I guess I feel really ashamed. Like I don't know how to stay in my own skin. I don't know what was true or not true (were you acting then, were you acting now, did I do something unmentionably horrible that changed things? Did I reveal something about my character that was horrible? When you look at me, am I disgusting?)
Jaim.
Its just really hard for me to move through. I don't know what is true. I tried to be honest with you. I was too honest at times. There are things (especially negative, critical things) I wish I hadn't said. Honesty is so wierd. What I am feeling is not true most of the time, so if I honestly express whatever lie I am believing, is it truely honest? Is something honest if it is sincere, or does honesty have to do with a relationship to an objective truth?
Along the same vein, you are a good actor. You are so different now than you were before, and you are so good, that I can't tell what is real. What did you say that you meant? If something drastically changed in the way you felt about me, I guess that explains it, but overnight? Or were you acting? (Then or now?)
I guess when I broke up with you I thought it was a break. Not forever. Not broken forever, just a break.
Maybe I can be summed up still as the girl who doesn't know what she wants.
You don't have any obligation to me, you can't fix me, but I think you could help me complete the loss. I think it would help to understand. I never want something like this to happen again, and maybe you could help me.
I guess I feel really ashamed. Like I don't know how to stay in my own skin. I don't know what was true or not true (were you acting then, were you acting now, did I do something unmentionably horrible that changed things? Did I reveal something about my character that was horrible? When you look at me, am I disgusting?)
Jaim.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Am I addicted to longing?
"Your at your best with an ache in your chest and a worn out old song that you play..."Allison Kraus It Doesn't Have to Be This Way
"You're addicted to your sadness, 'cause it creates a touch of madness--the kind you like inside your veins. Oh why are you so hardened, when you know you could be pardoned--I guess you will not let go of the reins." Waterdeep Hardened
"You're addicted to your sadness, 'cause it creates a touch of madness--the kind you like inside your veins. Oh why are you so hardened, when you know you could be pardoned--I guess you will not let go of the reins." Waterdeep Hardened
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Falling......
Its about 10:00 AM. I am in a valley at 11,300 ft. Its just windy enough on this cheese-wedge shaped boulder I am sitting on to keep the mosquitoes at bay. There is life on this seemingly dead rock. The quartz-laced granite slab is home to copper, forest green, chocolate, mint and grey lichen of all different textures and shapes. The ground cover is patchy and sparse. Little white flowers dance with violate daisies and yellow mini-tulips. Wind whips east through the valley and prevents the knotty pines from holding on to their foliage on their west sides. Two mountain lakes sit to my left. I can't see them right now. Patches of snow dot the green landscape like sand traps on a golf course. The valley echoes the voices of my friends who climbed a mile up to the Continental divide for a day hike. I didn't go with them. My heart hurt too much and I have quarter-sized blisters on my heals.
If I stay busy I don't have to face the long loneliness. Its like I am falling through a dark shaft. Occasionally I can grab onto a hand hold long enough to feel stability. With one compulsive push after another I can start to climb out. The classes I took this summer were like a latter. I had a syllabus and I trudged through the set of grips like a latter, one rung at a time. When the class ended, the ladder disappeared and I was falling again.
New York was a sturdy handhold. I slept in, walked around the city with Sara, indulging in the best seafood, retail therapy, a Broadway play full of hope in resignation, the Museum of Modern Art. I visited Sister Maris Stella, one of my best friends in college turned Manhattan nun, and saw Frank, my fabulously holy friend who just finished a Masters in Environmental Policy from Princeton. He will be moving to DC to work on saving the world. I met new friends. Christie is a beautiful NYC gymnast who took us to her beach house in Connecticut. It was this enchanted 1930s cottage where famous writers would write their books. We swam in the lake for two days and played a word game called "Banana Grams". Katy is a NYC songstress who took us on a romantic picnic in Central Park followed by badmitten on Thursday, and then Tour de Chocolat on the following Tuesday. We stopped at four stops 1) Coconut Curry Chocolate and the "Rooster". 2) "Spicy" and "Rosemary" 3) Balsamic Vinegar and black sesame covered chocolate 4) A giant decadent chocolate chip cookie and a "wicked mocha" which was this spicy coffee-flavored iced chocolate sludge. Even the way home was a distraction, with lots of drama as Sara and I harangued this Italian New Yorker named Mike into sitting at the airport bar with us and drinking too much.
The day I got back I rode down to the seminary and finished my paper. At 11:00 pm the security guard let me in the building to slip it under the door of my professor's office. Thursday I was dangling by my fingernails, because my New York Grips had fallen off, my paper was turned in and I just had a loose camping trip grip to keep me from my free fall. I turned on my Zune and did retail therapy at Whole Foods for my camping trip. I planned poorly, but it was all I could do to get out of the house.
I rode part of the way up with Church Sarah, her son, and another kid from church. When we got to John's I rode the rest of the way with him, complaining about my life and the church for the next 25 miles. He mostly laughed. Yesterday I was caustic and argumentative and blistered.
I am falling again. I don't have energy to take a handhold. With your hand in mine it felt safe for a bit, but when I stopped looking at you I realized we were falling together. I got scared. I am better at grabbing on to hand holds (not that I think it does me any good, maybe it is just helping me to avoid the surrender I need to have) I am not good enough to hold you too, and we always end up grabbing for different grips. I can't decide if I am upset because I am falling again, or because I miss falling with you.
If I stay busy I don't have to face the long loneliness. Its like I am falling through a dark shaft. Occasionally I can grab onto a hand hold long enough to feel stability. With one compulsive push after another I can start to climb out. The classes I took this summer were like a latter. I had a syllabus and I trudged through the set of grips like a latter, one rung at a time. When the class ended, the ladder disappeared and I was falling again.
New York was a sturdy handhold. I slept in, walked around the city with Sara, indulging in the best seafood, retail therapy, a Broadway play full of hope in resignation, the Museum of Modern Art. I visited Sister Maris Stella, one of my best friends in college turned Manhattan nun, and saw Frank, my fabulously holy friend who just finished a Masters in Environmental Policy from Princeton. He will be moving to DC to work on saving the world. I met new friends. Christie is a beautiful NYC gymnast who took us to her beach house in Connecticut. It was this enchanted 1930s cottage where famous writers would write their books. We swam in the lake for two days and played a word game called "Banana Grams". Katy is a NYC songstress who took us on a romantic picnic in Central Park followed by badmitten on Thursday, and then Tour de Chocolat on the following Tuesday. We stopped at four stops 1) Coconut Curry Chocolate and the "Rooster". 2) "Spicy" and "Rosemary" 3) Balsamic Vinegar and black sesame covered chocolate 4) A giant decadent chocolate chip cookie and a "wicked mocha" which was this spicy coffee-flavored iced chocolate sludge. Even the way home was a distraction, with lots of drama as Sara and I harangued this Italian New Yorker named Mike into sitting at the airport bar with us and drinking too much.
The day I got back I rode down to the seminary and finished my paper. At 11:00 pm the security guard let me in the building to slip it under the door of my professor's office. Thursday I was dangling by my fingernails, because my New York Grips had fallen off, my paper was turned in and I just had a loose camping trip grip to keep me from my free fall. I turned on my Zune and did retail therapy at Whole Foods for my camping trip. I planned poorly, but it was all I could do to get out of the house.
I rode part of the way up with Church Sarah, her son, and another kid from church. When we got to John's I rode the rest of the way with him, complaining about my life and the church for the next 25 miles. He mostly laughed. Yesterday I was caustic and argumentative and blistered.
I am falling again. I don't have energy to take a handhold. With your hand in mine it felt safe for a bit, but when I stopped looking at you I realized we were falling together. I got scared. I am better at grabbing on to hand holds (not that I think it does me any good, maybe it is just helping me to avoid the surrender I need to have) I am not good enough to hold you too, and we always end up grabbing for different grips. I can't decide if I am upset because I am falling again, or because I miss falling with you.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Ocean
Before I met you I sang about you;
You the home of barges and pirates
Casting reflections of flickering lights
Red/green/white...pale yellow moon.
Lucy and I loved to be with you.
We started playing this game
I would rush into you and find a deep place to stand still
And you would run away from me.
My foundations would crumble
I was suddenly speeding and trying to stand.
I didn't like your captivity
You forced me into steel hulls
To eat canned beans and white bread
I couldn't sense the invisible boundaries
that separated territories until I had
already crossed them, and angered hardened girls
I do not like being in you, but next to you
I remember healthy respect.
Humbled by your obstinate rythm
I paddle through your break
And catch a surge
Aware of times you have slammed me into a sandbar.
You have taught me about pelicans
Reminded me of the body I wish I had
Helped me feel Holy fear
Given me a vision of the perfect family vacation
Modeled the uneven swells of my soul
I miss you.
You the home of barges and pirates
Casting reflections of flickering lights
Red/green/white...pale yellow moon.
Lucy and I loved to be with you.
We started playing this game
I would rush into you and find a deep place to stand still
And you would run away from me.
My foundations would crumble
I was suddenly speeding and trying to stand.
I didn't like your captivity
You forced me into steel hulls
To eat canned beans and white bread
I couldn't sense the invisible boundaries
that separated territories until I had
already crossed them, and angered hardened girls
I do not like being in you, but next to you
I remember healthy respect.
Humbled by your obstinate rythm
I paddle through your break
And catch a surge
Aware of times you have slammed me into a sandbar.
You have taught me about pelicans
Reminded me of the body I wish I had
Helped me feel Holy fear
Given me a vision of the perfect family vacation
Modeled the uneven swells of my soul
I miss you.
attraction
I wish I could remember the name of these pills that were advertized at the last "First Friday". They were taste adventure pills. You could take them and it would be the same as eating an ice cream sunday, chewing on some steak or drinking lemonade. But without the calories, hassle, expense, time-investment, exercise of jaw muscles.
Romantic attraction is like that. It feels like the experience of love, but without the time investment, sacrifice, forced reflection, compromise. Someone suddenly shows up with a particular scent, silouette, mannerisms that reminds me of my "Secret Garden." The one where everything I want and everything I need will always stay a million miles away. (thanks Bruce) I attribute to this new blank screen all the parts of me I cant quite live into yet. This person becomes the rescuer of all that I have lost, and the doctor fixing all my broken parts. The projection is possible to maintain as long as this person stays aloof enough, doesn't say too much. Its takes hold easier if this person doesnt' have too many bad tattoos.
I need blank screens to play my fantasies. Because attraction tastes so good I keep on swallowing the illusion. But I am not getting any sustinence. I am not living in reality.
I want to learn to love a real person. One whos needs intersect mine sometimes and we sit soiled in same brokenness together. I would like real ice cream sunday too.
Romantic attraction is like that. It feels like the experience of love, but without the time investment, sacrifice, forced reflection, compromise. Someone suddenly shows up with a particular scent, silouette, mannerisms that reminds me of my "Secret Garden." The one where everything I want and everything I need will always stay a million miles away. (thanks Bruce) I attribute to this new blank screen all the parts of me I cant quite live into yet. This person becomes the rescuer of all that I have lost, and the doctor fixing all my broken parts. The projection is possible to maintain as long as this person stays aloof enough, doesn't say too much. Its takes hold easier if this person doesnt' have too many bad tattoos.
I need blank screens to play my fantasies. Because attraction tastes so good I keep on swallowing the illusion. But I am not getting any sustinence. I am not living in reality.
I want to learn to love a real person. One whos needs intersect mine sometimes and we sit soiled in same brokenness together. I would like real ice cream sunday too.
categoriahomis
That guy looks like a 7 on the ennegram
ENFP
Fear of mourning/loss
Greatest desire is to have fun.
He probably has a tendancy to overeat
Has fun mowing the lawn,
Moves on quickly after a break up.
She clearly is a codependent
She was the middle child in an alcohalic family
Goes to bed scared of being alone
Resents the people in her life that don't appreciate her
A capricorn or saggitarious
Likes cats, Stuffed animals.
That group defines themselves
by what they are not.
they are trying to be different.
Deeply convicted about their
ever changing convictions.
Their calender is
Full of protest.
That race blames us for their problems
They don't keep their dogs on a leash
Their men oppress their women
They have too many babies,
They are overweight and don't
teach their children manners.
That country is greedy fat and lazy
Their children are only good at
video games.
Their narrow-minded worldview
Creates Terrorists.
They like country music
ENFP
Fear of mourning/loss
Greatest desire is to have fun.
He probably has a tendancy to overeat
Has fun mowing the lawn,
Moves on quickly after a break up.
She clearly is a codependent
She was the middle child in an alcohalic family
Goes to bed scared of being alone
Resents the people in her life that don't appreciate her
A capricorn or saggitarious
Likes cats, Stuffed animals.
That group defines themselves
by what they are not.
they are trying to be different.
Deeply convicted about their
ever changing convictions.
Their calender is
Full of protest.
That race blames us for their problems
They don't keep their dogs on a leash
Their men oppress their women
They have too many babies,
They are overweight and don't
teach their children manners.
That country is greedy fat and lazy
Their children are only good at
video games.
Their narrow-minded worldview
Creates Terrorists.
They like country music
The great omission
I have been avoiding writing about my trip to see my sister and her family. The trip came after the tumult of my identity crisis concerning that ride across country. I fell off the proverbial wagon with food, and ate everything destructive I could think of eating, then met my parents at the airport.
Navigating food is difficult, but with my family it's even harder. My sister is probably the most unhealthy in her relationship with it, though she eats the most healthy out of anyone of us. She eats raw, organic vegetables and drinks raw, organic goat's milk. Occasionally she will have organic loose-leaf tea, some kind of cooked organic grain, or wild game. Its not the way she eats, but the way she thinks about food that gets scary...
First, nothing sends her into a rage more than "unholy" food. Her children have never had anything that is not organic. Even if every ingredient is organic but one teeny tiny thing at the end (pretty much every "organic" chocolate bar on the market has nonorganic soy lecitan as an emusifier) she will forbid consumption, and pour her wrath out at whoever exposed her or her kids to the thought of consuming it. In addition, she forbids consumption of organic sugar, any dairy product not from her goats, any kind of fun snack food, even peanut butter, jam, or cooked organic vegetables (the nutrients are depleated). She frowns upon organic bread, and would never eat it herself, but she allows the children to eat organic bread, organic sunflower butter, and raw organic honey until her garden is producing more.
Second, she always has health problems and refuses to consider the fact that her diet, consisting only of raw goat milk and raw vegetables, might be unbalanced. She has all sorts of joint probems, chronic fatigue, and her immune system is always crashing.
Third, everyone who doesn't eat like her faces her condemnation--which includes everyone. Mom, dad and I walk on egg shells in order to spend time with the kids. The dietary constraints are tough.
So when mom and dad picked me up, I had already been eating all morning. They had red vines and tootsie rolls, just to get them through the next session at my sisters. I inhaled all their candy as they drove back up to my sister's from the airport.
I know I am alergic to cow's milk, and I had a gigantic latte and cookies that morning at the airport. My body was not happy with me. I am also sugar sensitive, and ate more sugar than human beings should eat in a week on the way up to my sisters. Adding another layer of unhealth, I got tested after coming home from this visit and found out that I am really allergic to my sister's goat milk cheese which added another dimension to the discomfort of my digestive system...
It would be innacurate to tell you I was miserable. I stayed in a cool, expansive, empty room all by myself that had just been textured and painted in a doe-like white. The sun's rays coming through the skylight reflected off the walls with a comforting glow. I woke up naturally and the day unfolded slowly. In the mornings I got dressed in my running cloths and alternated doing a 4 or 5 mile loop on sparsely traveled dirt roads. The temperature was pleasently cool, and there were no mosquitos. I took my time, getting in a comfortable rythem, enjoying my body, alert for explosive movements in the trees from startled deer, and more invisible creatures. I loved waking up without an agenda, and wrapping myself in ponderosa pine, Douglas-fir and grand fir trees. The occasional western red cedar and western hemlock tower over devils club, lady fern, maidenhair fern and oak fern. My senses were full by the time I came in and took a hot shower, made some tea, and drank a goat milk/berry shake.
My sister and her family were just getting up by the time I got back in the mornings. They were living in a screen tent in the front yard. I often went back in my room to read and was pleasantly interrupted with a morning greeting from either Dinah or Ezekial. I was overwhelmed by the work to be done at my sisters home, and the tension that working there creates, so I decided early that my only job would be to hang out with her children. Enoch, her youngest child, is almost 1 and too young for me to feel comfortable hanging with, so I devoted most of my time and energy to pushing my niece and nephew in a swing, reading books, playing "horsie," coloring, making meals, or simply talking with Dinah and Ezekial. When they got upset (mostly because they were tired, and have no routine to rely on) I would slip away and let Jodi or Tom deal with it--because I just didn't want to be the bad guy.
My dad left the first day I was there, and my aunt, grandma, uncle and cousin came up the next day to celebrate my grandma, Enoch, and my birthday. Right before they got there, my sister managed to bring my mom and I to tears (she is able to find your biggest weakness and exploit it cruelly for no apparent reason). It was hard for my mom and I to fake stable, while my sister was hamming it up, with this syrupy charm that was almost buyable. The next day was equally psychologically painful, with more cruel words. My mom had planned on leaving wednesday, while I was flying out on Sunday. Both of us were ready to leave Tuesday morning. While we thought it over, my mom and I took the truck and the kids and picked up some sand along the road to make a sand pile. We came back, unloaded it, and made sand castles to take our minds off my sisters abusiveness.
It would be difficult and tedius to explain exactly what our family issues are, but basically my sister and her family are completely financially supported by my parents, who support them only to protect their three grand kids from homelessness and further instability. My sister continuously keeps all relationships on her terms by threatening to keep my mom dad and I from seeing the kids, and keeping tabs on and explioting all of our defects of character. At times I have good enough boundaries to keep out of the finance stuff, and avoid topics with my sister that we vehemently disagree on. However, when I am with my parents, I end up defending them, mediating, serving as this disfunctional diplomat.
Lessons I learned: I will not go to my sisters when my parents are there. That is the only way I can avoid getting in the middle of my sisters meanness. I will keep my visits around four days long. This is usually when it begins to unravel. I will continue to focus on the kids, and not worry about helping my sister with all he household duties she is behind on. I will try and chew my food more, and stick to three meals a day that I actually sit down for. This will be a big time commitment! About an hour a day sitting! But, I think it would be good.
Advice I would like to give my sister but will not because she is too mentally unstable: Maybe you need to eat something besides raw goat's milk and vegetables--it might help your chronic fatigue. If you find yourself not liking anyone on the planet, maybe you need to look at some issues within yourself, and lower your expectations. In addition, while the world might end in the next year, maybe you could make some sort of plan for beyond that just in case. Maybe you could take a few more showers, seeing as how you have hot, running water and all. Also, maybe you could be less cruel and more patient with our parents seeing as how they are completely funding your life! Finally, if your children get really upset and cry, they are probably tired, hungry, need to go to the bathroom, or need their diaper changed. So maybe you should try looking at that stuff first before you ascribe it to personality defects, demonic influence, some complex psychological issue, etc.
Advice I would like to give Tom, Jodi's husband, if I thought he was mentally/emotionally capable of accepting it--If you dont want the "looming oppression" of your inlaws, get a job! Drugs kill brain cells! People think its rude if you completely ignore them. Your complete hatred of money is incompatable to the balance you accrue every month on my parent's credit card. "Smokes weed" is not an automatically trust-building character trait to look for in your friends. Real Rastas believe that the last Ethiopian Emperor is the incarnated Christ, Ethiopia is the promised land, and honkeys like you are the devil.
Advice I would give Dina and Ezekial if they were old enough--I love you! God didn't create you with dread locks, you can cut them when you are old enough! Good job putting your toys away. Whatever you leave out will be thrown away. Stay tight. You two will have no other consistent playmate, and you will need to support each other. You will be behind in school but you are smart, and my parents and I will help you catch up. There is a whole world out there, and you can make different choices then your parents. Nothing is irredemable. We serve a good God who loves you and will make a way where there seems to be none. Make sure you don't eat poisonous mushrooms!
Navigating food is difficult, but with my family it's even harder. My sister is probably the most unhealthy in her relationship with it, though she eats the most healthy out of anyone of us. She eats raw, organic vegetables and drinks raw, organic goat's milk. Occasionally she will have organic loose-leaf tea, some kind of cooked organic grain, or wild game. Its not the way she eats, but the way she thinks about food that gets scary...
First, nothing sends her into a rage more than "unholy" food. Her children have never had anything that is not organic. Even if every ingredient is organic but one teeny tiny thing at the end (pretty much every "organic" chocolate bar on the market has nonorganic soy lecitan as an emusifier) she will forbid consumption, and pour her wrath out at whoever exposed her or her kids to the thought of consuming it. In addition, she forbids consumption of organic sugar, any dairy product not from her goats, any kind of fun snack food, even peanut butter, jam, or cooked organic vegetables (the nutrients are depleated). She frowns upon organic bread, and would never eat it herself, but she allows the children to eat organic bread, organic sunflower butter, and raw organic honey until her garden is producing more.
Second, she always has health problems and refuses to consider the fact that her diet, consisting only of raw goat milk and raw vegetables, might be unbalanced. She has all sorts of joint probems, chronic fatigue, and her immune system is always crashing.
Third, everyone who doesn't eat like her faces her condemnation--which includes everyone. Mom, dad and I walk on egg shells in order to spend time with the kids. The dietary constraints are tough.
So when mom and dad picked me up, I had already been eating all morning. They had red vines and tootsie rolls, just to get them through the next session at my sisters. I inhaled all their candy as they drove back up to my sister's from the airport.
I know I am alergic to cow's milk, and I had a gigantic latte and cookies that morning at the airport. My body was not happy with me. I am also sugar sensitive, and ate more sugar than human beings should eat in a week on the way up to my sisters. Adding another layer of unhealth, I got tested after coming home from this visit and found out that I am really allergic to my sister's goat milk cheese which added another dimension to the discomfort of my digestive system...
It would be innacurate to tell you I was miserable. I stayed in a cool, expansive, empty room all by myself that had just been textured and painted in a doe-like white. The sun's rays coming through the skylight reflected off the walls with a comforting glow. I woke up naturally and the day unfolded slowly. In the mornings I got dressed in my running cloths and alternated doing a 4 or 5 mile loop on sparsely traveled dirt roads. The temperature was pleasently cool, and there were no mosquitos. I took my time, getting in a comfortable rythem, enjoying my body, alert for explosive movements in the trees from startled deer, and more invisible creatures. I loved waking up without an agenda, and wrapping myself in ponderosa pine, Douglas-fir and grand fir trees. The occasional western red cedar and western hemlock tower over devils club, lady fern, maidenhair fern and oak fern. My senses were full by the time I came in and took a hot shower, made some tea, and drank a goat milk/berry shake.
My sister and her family were just getting up by the time I got back in the mornings. They were living in a screen tent in the front yard. I often went back in my room to read and was pleasantly interrupted with a morning greeting from either Dinah or Ezekial. I was overwhelmed by the work to be done at my sisters home, and the tension that working there creates, so I decided early that my only job would be to hang out with her children. Enoch, her youngest child, is almost 1 and too young for me to feel comfortable hanging with, so I devoted most of my time and energy to pushing my niece and nephew in a swing, reading books, playing "horsie," coloring, making meals, or simply talking with Dinah and Ezekial. When they got upset (mostly because they were tired, and have no routine to rely on) I would slip away and let Jodi or Tom deal with it--because I just didn't want to be the bad guy.
My dad left the first day I was there, and my aunt, grandma, uncle and cousin came up the next day to celebrate my grandma, Enoch, and my birthday. Right before they got there, my sister managed to bring my mom and I to tears (she is able to find your biggest weakness and exploit it cruelly for no apparent reason). It was hard for my mom and I to fake stable, while my sister was hamming it up, with this syrupy charm that was almost buyable. The next day was equally psychologically painful, with more cruel words. My mom had planned on leaving wednesday, while I was flying out on Sunday. Both of us were ready to leave Tuesday morning. While we thought it over, my mom and I took the truck and the kids and picked up some sand along the road to make a sand pile. We came back, unloaded it, and made sand castles to take our minds off my sisters abusiveness.
It would be difficult and tedius to explain exactly what our family issues are, but basically my sister and her family are completely financially supported by my parents, who support them only to protect their three grand kids from homelessness and further instability. My sister continuously keeps all relationships on her terms by threatening to keep my mom dad and I from seeing the kids, and keeping tabs on and explioting all of our defects of character. At times I have good enough boundaries to keep out of the finance stuff, and avoid topics with my sister that we vehemently disagree on. However, when I am with my parents, I end up defending them, mediating, serving as this disfunctional diplomat.
Lessons I learned: I will not go to my sisters when my parents are there. That is the only way I can avoid getting in the middle of my sisters meanness. I will keep my visits around four days long. This is usually when it begins to unravel. I will continue to focus on the kids, and not worry about helping my sister with all he household duties she is behind on. I will try and chew my food more, and stick to three meals a day that I actually sit down for. This will be a big time commitment! About an hour a day sitting! But, I think it would be good.
Advice I would like to give my sister but will not because she is too mentally unstable: Maybe you need to eat something besides raw goat's milk and vegetables--it might help your chronic fatigue. If you find yourself not liking anyone on the planet, maybe you need to look at some issues within yourself, and lower your expectations. In addition, while the world might end in the next year, maybe you could make some sort of plan for beyond that just in case. Maybe you could take a few more showers, seeing as how you have hot, running water and all. Also, maybe you could be less cruel and more patient with our parents seeing as how they are completely funding your life! Finally, if your children get really upset and cry, they are probably tired, hungry, need to go to the bathroom, or need their diaper changed. So maybe you should try looking at that stuff first before you ascribe it to personality defects, demonic influence, some complex psychological issue, etc.
Advice I would like to give Tom, Jodi's husband, if I thought he was mentally/emotionally capable of accepting it--If you dont want the "looming oppression" of your inlaws, get a job! Drugs kill brain cells! People think its rude if you completely ignore them. Your complete hatred of money is incompatable to the balance you accrue every month on my parent's credit card. "Smokes weed" is not an automatically trust-building character trait to look for in your friends. Real Rastas believe that the last Ethiopian Emperor is the incarnated Christ, Ethiopia is the promised land, and honkeys like you are the devil.
Advice I would give Dina and Ezekial if they were old enough--I love you! God didn't create you with dread locks, you can cut them when you are old enough! Good job putting your toys away. Whatever you leave out will be thrown away. Stay tight. You two will have no other consistent playmate, and you will need to support each other. You will be behind in school but you are smart, and my parents and I will help you catch up. There is a whole world out there, and you can make different choices then your parents. Nothing is irredemable. We serve a good God who loves you and will make a way where there seems to be none. Make sure you don't eat poisonous mushrooms!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Connecting
I left my phone at my house.
12 hourse without instant communication
Sara called me 7 times.
She was positive I was dead.
I left my computer at school
One night without facebook
Boyfriend wrote me a poem
I am worried since I took so long to respond, does he think I didn't like it?
I am not teaching anymore.
I gave my students my email address
Most of them told me
Unless I get a myspace and a texting plan it will be too hard to stay in touch
My sister does not have the internet
Nor long distance, TVs, media subscriptions
I can call her
But only between the milkings and garden work, the afternoon nap and a trip to the sand box
My blog is sort of anonymous
I try to remember not to use names...
But sara told me that she googled her name
and one of the rants on here was the first thing that came up!
Since I have been sitting here
Staring at my computer
With three others staring at their computers
I have missed five phone calls
Why do we avoid each other's presence?
We are too busy texting, calling, typing, reading
Buying, upgrading, uploading, downloading
searching, blogging, twittering, dialing
12 hourse without instant communication
Sara called me 7 times.
She was positive I was dead.
I left my computer at school
One night without facebook
Boyfriend wrote me a poem
I am worried since I took so long to respond, does he think I didn't like it?
I am not teaching anymore.
I gave my students my email address
Most of them told me
Unless I get a myspace and a texting plan it will be too hard to stay in touch
My sister does not have the internet
Nor long distance, TVs, media subscriptions
I can call her
But only between the milkings and garden work, the afternoon nap and a trip to the sand box
My blog is sort of anonymous
I try to remember not to use names...
But sara told me that she googled her name
and one of the rants on here was the first thing that came up!
Since I have been sitting here
Staring at my computer
With three others staring at their computers
I have missed five phone calls
Why do we avoid each other's presence?
We are too busy texting, calling, typing, reading
Buying, upgrading, uploading, downloading
searching, blogging, twittering, dialing
Chocolate
When you slide through my mouth, melt onto my tounge
I am gratefully present
I hear your dull snap as I put pressure on the right spot
Your smell brings me to my french village, my South American beach
dopamine pulses through my veins
But when you are gone I remember, I've compromized
You cost more than that tramp on Evans and Federal's lunch
You are not in the food plan
Did the villagers I lived with in Camaroon sweat all day
Picking the Coco pods you are made from, only to make $50 this
month and never be able to enjoy you?
Progressively, you become my crutch
Taste and see that Chocolate is good...
But I am not blessed taking refuge in you.
What are you offering me
Addicition, compromise, glutted numness
The kind of fun that refuses to remember to enter into reality...
Giving you up feels righteous
Like I chose the real work of identifying with the lowely..
Maybe I will develop a taste for a more subtle trancendence
The simple joy of being
But your stimulation is too good to give up
for now.
I am gratefully present
I hear your dull snap as I put pressure on the right spot
Your smell brings me to my french village, my South American beach
dopamine pulses through my veins
But when you are gone I remember, I've compromized
You cost more than that tramp on Evans and Federal's lunch
You are not in the food plan
Did the villagers I lived with in Camaroon sweat all day
Picking the Coco pods you are made from, only to make $50 this
month and never be able to enjoy you?
Progressively, you become my crutch
Taste and see that Chocolate is good...
But I am not blessed taking refuge in you.
What are you offering me
Addicition, compromise, glutted numness
The kind of fun that refuses to remember to enter into reality...
Giving you up feels righteous
Like I chose the real work of identifying with the lowely..
Maybe I will develop a taste for a more subtle trancendence
The simple joy of being
But your stimulation is too good to give up
for now.
Bus Stop
I know what it means to you when you hear, "do you smoke?"
Suddenly one who you thought was so different from you comes near
You with your plaid shirt, and perfectly holed Jeans
A middle-aged hispanic woman
A pierced, mohawked anarchist
Mullet with a cane
old man
Are suddenly your cosmic companions
On a journey to a peacefull nowhere
You smoke each other out.
It feels like the kingdom...
Peace. Tolerance feels like love
codependence feels like compassion
A common high feels like real connection
You would have more in common
with the people at the bus stop
of colfax and downing
Suddenly one who you thought was so different from you comes near
You with your plaid shirt, and perfectly holed Jeans
A middle-aged hispanic woman
A pierced, mohawked anarchist
Mullet with a cane
old man
Are suddenly your cosmic companions
On a journey to a peacefull nowhere
You smoke each other out.
It feels like the kingdom...
Peace. Tolerance feels like love
codependence feels like compassion
A common high feels like real connection
You would have more in common
with the people at the bus stop
of colfax and downing
Things lost this morning
Keys (If you are missing some maybe they are in the middle of the west lane of grant)
The possibility of riding on the bike trail north of Mississippi
Respect for you
My willpower over chocolate
The button off my space-age shift dress
The assurance of happily ever after
a bagel (if its yours its on the corner of 8th and Penn)
My earring--I found it though, ran-over, and I glued it back together with some super glue from la tienda convenience store
Hope that we can compromize without settling
$59.90 after I lost my button on my shift and had to get a new outfit; its hot
too...a rasburry mini and bandeau plus teal tank...it matches the earring I lost then found...
Time with my overeaters anonymous group
A cm off my bangs
The time to do my take-home test
faith that my mom would find a cheaper ticket than I did to NYC
the fantasy of putting asside that recent check for savings
interest in getting back on the food plan
confidence that we are going the same direction
The possibility of riding on the bike trail north of Mississippi
Respect for you
My willpower over chocolate
The button off my space-age shift dress
The assurance of happily ever after
a bagel (if its yours its on the corner of 8th and Penn)
My earring--I found it though, ran-over, and I glued it back together with some super glue from la tienda convenience store
Hope that we can compromize without settling
$59.90 after I lost my button on my shift and had to get a new outfit; its hot
too...a rasburry mini and bandeau plus teal tank...it matches the earring I lost then found...
Time with my overeaters anonymous group
A cm off my bangs
The time to do my take-home test
faith that my mom would find a cheaper ticket than I did to NYC
the fantasy of putting asside that recent check for savings
interest in getting back on the food plan
confidence that we are going the same direction
Friday, May 29, 2009
Jobs in Heaven
Sometimes, when I know I am obsessed with building this impressive resume I remember something my bike messenger friend told me. He doesn't believe in heaven, but he said if heaven did exist, none of the money-making jobs exist up there. There are no doctors, because no one is sick. No Lawyers, because no one needs help defending themselves. No financial planners because there is no money. No heros, idols, politicians, professional cool people, marketing executives, image consultants, life insurance agents, etc. But there are poets, artists, musicians, entertainers (not ones that we worship, just ones we can appreciate), and messengers.
I hope I can put my energy in to a job that will still exist in eternity.
I hope I can put my energy in to a job that will still exist in eternity.
Cheaper than a psyche ward
Here's how I coped with existential despair this last four hours:
One doughnut
2.5 bagels w/ cream cheese
3 McDonalds chicken selects
one chocolate chip cookie
lots of snow peas
some protien drink
1/4 of a jar of almond butter
Some coffee
6 Tapas (Spanish apetizers)
3 Sangrias
A chocolate gnoche cake
three balls of cookie dough
three bananas
One doughnut
2.5 bagels w/ cream cheese
3 McDonalds chicken selects
one chocolate chip cookie
lots of snow peas
some protien drink
1/4 of a jar of almond butter
Some coffee
6 Tapas (Spanish apetizers)
3 Sangrias
A chocolate gnoche cake
three balls of cookie dough
three bananas
Choose your own adventure #2
Once there was a girl who decided to try out for an amazing ride across country where she would recieve $3000 plus $25 per day plus airfare to ride from NYC to LA promoting bike culture. After all the candidates were weeded through, she was selected as one of the 42 participants.
She decided to accept the ride. Everyone was rooting for her. Once again, she was the hero, the adventurer, the one out in the front, seeing the world. The life she wants would be there when she got back, and she would be so fabulous! But she wasn't. Every day, she trudged on busy highways with too many people that she didn't want to be with. Sure, meeting new people was exciting, but this younger crowd of inflated idealists who loved vodka, thought bikes would change the world, and wanted to convert souls to vegan hipster ideals didn't appreciate her. She didn't get to blog the adventure, missed her friends and commmunity, and in the end came back broken and tired. Food was out of control, and she felt more lost then ever. THE END.
or.
She decided to accept the ride. Even though she put some things on the line, like a new relationship, a seminary class, time for art and writing, and a relaxing, fun, colorado summer, she came to believe that she made the right decision. The people she met on the ride were hungry for something different. They wanted to hear about Jesus, and the kind of life he led. They wanted to change the world, but some, like her, came to believe that they first had to be willing to change themselves. Together with her new friends, the group formed a community committed to personal growth, inner work, and living a story of redemption. She was so excited about her experience she couldn't wait to get back and tell her friends about it. Her friends and boyfriend were excited to hear her stories, and the blog she wrote was so amazing that all who read it demanded the book...
Or.
She decided not to accept the ride. As soon as she made the decision, she knew it was all downhill from there. She ate chocolate every day and quickly gained all the weight that she just lost in the "Biggest Loser" competition at school (even though most of the weight she supposedly lost was water weight since she drank diet tea, did a fast, and didn't eat for two days before the last weigh-in) She wallowed in self-pity all summer, was bitchy to everyone who cared about her, and alienated all those who tried to comfort her. She didn't write or do art all summer because she was too depressed. Sara couldnt' go to New York after all, and her boyfriend was unable to afford LA, so she didn't even leave her house. She became desperate for movement so she became broke buying self-help books off the internet. In the end she couldn't pay rent, became a homeless street begger, and died of a broken heart.
or.
She decided not to accept the ride. She became determined to make something more of her summer than give two months of her life to some canned marketing concept vodka promotion. She remembered a refrain from a song she once heard; "Where you're laughed while you abstain and your cursed while you give in, its a game thats impossible to beat; but a peaceful refrain God will sing in your brain when you put the nails to your hands and your feet." She knew if she kept dwelling on the decision she already made, she would make herself crazy, and that she just had to let a part of her die. Not the adventurist, just the fearful, competitive adventurist. The part that had to be the most adventurous. The part that already rode across country but needed to do it again, because this one girl she knew was doing it, and she needed something to show for her summer. Or the part that had to climb all the fourteeners even though she really didn't care about fourteeners. She knew that if she wrote a book this summer--even if she didn't get it published, she had something to be proud of. If she created some things she would not only learn some new skills, but she could recreate herself--finding new aspects of her identity to live out. She remembered some lessons she had already learned. Last summer, she was gone the whole time, and learned that it was ok to stay home and have micro-adventures, and it was a whole lot more renewing. She learned from two months at the monestary that you didn't need to be on some epic quest to grow spiritually. She learned that just because you are chosen for something (she was chosen to go to the Air Force Academy on exchange, and sky dive) you don't have to accept (it was the worst semester she has ever had. She learned from traveling through Ireland that even if she was in the most amazing place, the ride can be miserable when she was with people who didn't care about each other (Incidentally one traveling partner would be going on this cross-country ride.) Even if she failed to find a way to make money this summer that incorporated her desires and talents, she had savings and she would take out some loans. She knew she was taken care of, and the decision she made reflected her desire to invest in loving others, and not fearfully protecting her own self interests.
She decided to accept the ride. Everyone was rooting for her. Once again, she was the hero, the adventurer, the one out in the front, seeing the world. The life she wants would be there when she got back, and she would be so fabulous! But she wasn't. Every day, she trudged on busy highways with too many people that she didn't want to be with. Sure, meeting new people was exciting, but this younger crowd of inflated idealists who loved vodka, thought bikes would change the world, and wanted to convert souls to vegan hipster ideals didn't appreciate her. She didn't get to blog the adventure, missed her friends and commmunity, and in the end came back broken and tired. Food was out of control, and she felt more lost then ever. THE END.
or.
She decided to accept the ride. Even though she put some things on the line, like a new relationship, a seminary class, time for art and writing, and a relaxing, fun, colorado summer, she came to believe that she made the right decision. The people she met on the ride were hungry for something different. They wanted to hear about Jesus, and the kind of life he led. They wanted to change the world, but some, like her, came to believe that they first had to be willing to change themselves. Together with her new friends, the group formed a community committed to personal growth, inner work, and living a story of redemption. She was so excited about her experience she couldn't wait to get back and tell her friends about it. Her friends and boyfriend were excited to hear her stories, and the blog she wrote was so amazing that all who read it demanded the book...
Or.
She decided not to accept the ride. As soon as she made the decision, she knew it was all downhill from there. She ate chocolate every day and quickly gained all the weight that she just lost in the "Biggest Loser" competition at school (even though most of the weight she supposedly lost was water weight since she drank diet tea, did a fast, and didn't eat for two days before the last weigh-in) She wallowed in self-pity all summer, was bitchy to everyone who cared about her, and alienated all those who tried to comfort her. She didn't write or do art all summer because she was too depressed. Sara couldnt' go to New York after all, and her boyfriend was unable to afford LA, so she didn't even leave her house. She became desperate for movement so she became broke buying self-help books off the internet. In the end she couldn't pay rent, became a homeless street begger, and died of a broken heart.
or.
She decided not to accept the ride. She became determined to make something more of her summer than give two months of her life to some canned marketing concept vodka promotion. She remembered a refrain from a song she once heard; "Where you're laughed while you abstain and your cursed while you give in, its a game thats impossible to beat; but a peaceful refrain God will sing in your brain when you put the nails to your hands and your feet." She knew if she kept dwelling on the decision she already made, she would make herself crazy, and that she just had to let a part of her die. Not the adventurist, just the fearful, competitive adventurist. The part that had to be the most adventurous. The part that already rode across country but needed to do it again, because this one girl she knew was doing it, and she needed something to show for her summer. Or the part that had to climb all the fourteeners even though she really didn't care about fourteeners. She knew that if she wrote a book this summer--even if she didn't get it published, she had something to be proud of. If she created some things she would not only learn some new skills, but she could recreate herself--finding new aspects of her identity to live out. She remembered some lessons she had already learned. Last summer, she was gone the whole time, and learned that it was ok to stay home and have micro-adventures, and it was a whole lot more renewing. She learned from two months at the monestary that you didn't need to be on some epic quest to grow spiritually. She learned that just because you are chosen for something (she was chosen to go to the Air Force Academy on exchange, and sky dive) you don't have to accept (it was the worst semester she has ever had. She learned from traveling through Ireland that even if she was in the most amazing place, the ride can be miserable when she was with people who didn't care about each other (Incidentally one traveling partner would be going on this cross-country ride.) Even if she failed to find a way to make money this summer that incorporated her desires and talents, she had savings and she would take out some loans. She knew she was taken care of, and the decision she made reflected her desire to invest in loving others, and not fearfully protecting her own self interests.
My Identity: A Test
All my life I have felt intense wanderlust. When I was little I would stare out my bedroom window, singing a song about the sea:
"Out of my window, looking in the night,
I can see those barges flickering light.
Silently flows the river to the sea
as the barges too flow silently."
Barges!
I would like to go with you,
I would like to sail the Ocean blue.
Barges!
Is there treasure in your hold,
do you fight with pirates brave and bold?"
I loved travel from an early age. I went to the naval academy so I could live a life of constant adventure, fight pirates, and become a woman warrior. I stayed at the Naval Academy long after I should have because I got accepted to the Air Force Academy and would have the chance to jump out of planes, and fly planes. I became a bike messenger, so I could get paid for riding my bike. I have tried out for survivor, and attempted to get a job for six months as the care taker at an island reef. Last summer, my first summer off as a teacher, I planned every day but five days away from my house.
This summer, I was looking forward to mini-escapes, time with Boyfriend and friends, a church camping trip, and writing and doing art. Then I found out about this ride from New York City to LA this summer for two months. The ride promoted some bike film festivals, as well as advertized for vodka company. It payed $3000 plus $25 per day, as well as $800 airfare. I was excited! I had a chance, once again, to get paid for riding my bike. I was already going to NYC with Sara and LA with Boyfriend this summer; now I would get my Airfare paid. The were looking for bloggers--I could blog all the way across country. I could send post cards, right?
But I didn't feel settled about it. Its not that I thought I wouldn't have a relationship when I got back--I wasn't afraid of boyfriend and I breaking up--but I was afraid that I would be setting up a trend of making selfish decisions. It felt overly-ambitious. Even though I feel a sense of community and purpose here, it felt like a chance to get ahead, make a name for myself, make some money, in a cheap way--one that is not in line with where I am going. I know there is a story there, but I know that I have a story here too--and I picked the characters. I could still go to NYC with Sara, and LA with Boyfriend, and they were all about me going, but it didn't seem like they really meant it.
The more people I asked, the more confusing it got. This guy who own's my favorite Argentinian restaurant illustrates my friend's responses. One time I asked him, do you Tango? He said, "Of course not!". I came in at 2:00 in the morning and and asked him, "do you serve coffee this late?" He said, "Of course!" His answers are completely extreme and unpredictible to me! The same with everyone I asked about this decision. My parents said, "Of course you should go!" My 12-step friend said, "Its a no-brainer! Don't go!" Boyfriend and Sara said, "Definitely!" Even though I don't believe they meant it.
I met my friend Jo yesterday and went to the salvage yard to look for art treasures. I picked up some cool old windows, and we talked. Jo asked me some questions about the ride. I told her that there was no way I could refuse it if it was offered to me. I also told her that I didn't think I was really powerless over food. I told her if I got the gig, that was my decision--it was made up for me.
Today, I woke up and read Matthew 27. It has the story with Pontius Pilate. You know, he didn't really want to be involved with Jesus' death, but he didn't really want to make a decision. In the end, he was still culpible for crucifying Christ. I didn't really want to go on the ride, but I didn't believe I could turn it down...what sane, jobless, bike-loving, wanna-be famous blogger would? I didn't know what decision to make, but I knew I needed to take responsibility for it. I also read about Judas Iscariot. Maybe he wasn't truely evil. Maybe he just wanted to be in control--he wanted to force Jesus' hand, and make him do something different, more fabulous. Well he changed his mind, and it was too late. The moment passed, Jesus was going to die, he was responsible, and he couldn't take it back.
Ahh I killed Jesus!
No, really, what I was thinking about was how I can't do this ride expecting to undo the consequences it may cause. Its not like me and Boyfriendd would break up, but it would cause some strain. Its not like I wouldn't be a part of my church community, but I would not get the time back that we would share together. Its not that I would never do art, but i wouldn't do art now.
So I prayed a little, ate two bagels, a doughnut, and an lb of chocolate and decided that I needed to turn it down. Then I cried for an hour, called my parents, and hung up on them when they didn't give me unconditional positive support, left a message with my boyfriend, told Deter that I didn't want to talk, and when he asked if we would keep in touch I said that we would not. I was a terrible teacher all day, and even left school early. I sweared uncontrollibly, and even debated calling them back. I was numb enough from overeating not to feel the intensity of the demons on my shoulder, my back, reminding me that I will end up normal, average, sitting in front of a TV or X-box, watching sports, having kids (God forbid!) eating ice cream, and living in the suburbs--but i could still hear their muffled laughter.
My messenger frenemy, a girl who simply doesn't like me, got the gig. I don't think there was a competition on my part, but it feals like I lost. Like the psalm that says "I stumbled when my eyes followed the wicked to their riches.." I am not saying she is wicked. Its more like, I am trying to do the right thing but I see the rewards of the other choice slipping out of my fingers and given to another girl, someone who abhores me and the way I do things. It wasn't about her, but it may have been a little about keeping up with her, and everyone else who is doing fabulous things.
I guess I chose community over competition, intuitive sense of purpose over compulsive adventure-seeking, unknown blessing over obvious prosperity, commitment to future purpose instead of one last fling of youth. It seemed like the "right" decision. Then why do I feel so crappy (other then the 5000 calories of carbs that I ate?) Even if I did make the right decision, what I do now could still screw it up. If I go from here into self-destructive indulgence, self-pity, regret and defensive exploding at anyone who asks me about it, that is probably not going to work out for me. If I can believe that there is something in this, that somehow, God will reward what I believed was the first decision I have made to choose the less glamerous route, then maybe I have a chance...
"Out of my window, looking in the night,
I can see those barges flickering light.
Silently flows the river to the sea
as the barges too flow silently."
Barges!
I would like to go with you,
I would like to sail the Ocean blue.
Barges!
Is there treasure in your hold,
do you fight with pirates brave and bold?"
I loved travel from an early age. I went to the naval academy so I could live a life of constant adventure, fight pirates, and become a woman warrior. I stayed at the Naval Academy long after I should have because I got accepted to the Air Force Academy and would have the chance to jump out of planes, and fly planes. I became a bike messenger, so I could get paid for riding my bike. I have tried out for survivor, and attempted to get a job for six months as the care taker at an island reef. Last summer, my first summer off as a teacher, I planned every day but five days away from my house.
This summer, I was looking forward to mini-escapes, time with Boyfriend and friends, a church camping trip, and writing and doing art. Then I found out about this ride from New York City to LA this summer for two months. The ride promoted some bike film festivals, as well as advertized for vodka company. It payed $3000 plus $25 per day, as well as $800 airfare. I was excited! I had a chance, once again, to get paid for riding my bike. I was already going to NYC with Sara and LA with Boyfriend this summer; now I would get my Airfare paid. The were looking for bloggers--I could blog all the way across country. I could send post cards, right?
But I didn't feel settled about it. Its not that I thought I wouldn't have a relationship when I got back--I wasn't afraid of boyfriend and I breaking up--but I was afraid that I would be setting up a trend of making selfish decisions. It felt overly-ambitious. Even though I feel a sense of community and purpose here, it felt like a chance to get ahead, make a name for myself, make some money, in a cheap way--one that is not in line with where I am going. I know there is a story there, but I know that I have a story here too--and I picked the characters. I could still go to NYC with Sara, and LA with Boyfriend, and they were all about me going, but it didn't seem like they really meant it.
The more people I asked, the more confusing it got. This guy who own's my favorite Argentinian restaurant illustrates my friend's responses. One time I asked him, do you Tango? He said, "Of course not!". I came in at 2:00 in the morning and and asked him, "do you serve coffee this late?" He said, "Of course!" His answers are completely extreme and unpredictible to me! The same with everyone I asked about this decision. My parents said, "Of course you should go!" My 12-step friend said, "Its a no-brainer! Don't go!" Boyfriend and Sara said, "Definitely!" Even though I don't believe they meant it.
I met my friend Jo yesterday and went to the salvage yard to look for art treasures. I picked up some cool old windows, and we talked. Jo asked me some questions about the ride. I told her that there was no way I could refuse it if it was offered to me. I also told her that I didn't think I was really powerless over food. I told her if I got the gig, that was my decision--it was made up for me.
Today, I woke up and read Matthew 27. It has the story with Pontius Pilate. You know, he didn't really want to be involved with Jesus' death, but he didn't really want to make a decision. In the end, he was still culpible for crucifying Christ. I didn't really want to go on the ride, but I didn't believe I could turn it down...what sane, jobless, bike-loving, wanna-be famous blogger would? I didn't know what decision to make, but I knew I needed to take responsibility for it. I also read about Judas Iscariot. Maybe he wasn't truely evil. Maybe he just wanted to be in control--he wanted to force Jesus' hand, and make him do something different, more fabulous. Well he changed his mind, and it was too late. The moment passed, Jesus was going to die, he was responsible, and he couldn't take it back.
Ahh I killed Jesus!
No, really, what I was thinking about was how I can't do this ride expecting to undo the consequences it may cause. Its not like me and Boyfriendd would break up, but it would cause some strain. Its not like I wouldn't be a part of my church community, but I would not get the time back that we would share together. Its not that I would never do art, but i wouldn't do art now.
So I prayed a little, ate two bagels, a doughnut, and an lb of chocolate and decided that I needed to turn it down. Then I cried for an hour, called my parents, and hung up on them when they didn't give me unconditional positive support, left a message with my boyfriend, told Deter that I didn't want to talk, and when he asked if we would keep in touch I said that we would not. I was a terrible teacher all day, and even left school early. I sweared uncontrollibly, and even debated calling them back. I was numb enough from overeating not to feel the intensity of the demons on my shoulder, my back, reminding me that I will end up normal, average, sitting in front of a TV or X-box, watching sports, having kids (God forbid!) eating ice cream, and living in the suburbs--but i could still hear their muffled laughter.
My messenger frenemy, a girl who simply doesn't like me, got the gig. I don't think there was a competition on my part, but it feals like I lost. Like the psalm that says "I stumbled when my eyes followed the wicked to their riches.." I am not saying she is wicked. Its more like, I am trying to do the right thing but I see the rewards of the other choice slipping out of my fingers and given to another girl, someone who abhores me and the way I do things. It wasn't about her, but it may have been a little about keeping up with her, and everyone else who is doing fabulous things.
I guess I chose community over competition, intuitive sense of purpose over compulsive adventure-seeking, unknown blessing over obvious prosperity, commitment to future purpose instead of one last fling of youth. It seemed like the "right" decision. Then why do I feel so crappy (other then the 5000 calories of carbs that I ate?) Even if I did make the right decision, what I do now could still screw it up. If I go from here into self-destructive indulgence, self-pity, regret and defensive exploding at anyone who asks me about it, that is probably not going to work out for me. If I can believe that there is something in this, that somehow, God will reward what I believed was the first decision I have made to choose the less glamerous route, then maybe I have a chance...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Ambivalence vs. Indifference
Ambivalence is a tug of war
Do I live the adventure or build roots?
Tension, energy, pulling, dynamic, forcing
Should I eat chocolate or not?
Two would-be friends fight to death
Child Jaimie and Parent Jaimie stage warfare
Frenemys; needy, loving, hating
I hated some teachers and messengers I worked with because I needed understanding.
the pro-con list grows ad infinitum
The more I think about it the deeper I sink in the mire of indecision
Damned if I do, Damned if I don't
Whatever I pick destroys the possibility of experiencing the other
One win spells another's loss
I cant get what I want without taking it from someone else
bipolar, roller coaster
When I ask advice, one friend says, "Absolutely!" and the other, "Absolutely not!"
Swinging from a ten to a one.
I can be so sure of Gods love, but unconvinced of his goodness.
Stuck between duty and longing...
The identity of a gypsy philosopher or a loved community member.
Indifference is a balanced scale.
It doesn't matter what we do on my birthday
Static, effortless, detached, observing
I am interested in your thoughts, since I can't really pinpoint mine.
A sensible judge, free from bias
It doesn't matter whether my we go to the movies or stay home tonight.
acquaintences, cohabiting, small talk
I'm not sure I care if I see most people I have spent this year with again.
A flipped coin calls the shots
I am ok with moving to LA or living in Denver.
There are no winners, no losers.
The incentive to run another marathon just isn't there, but if you're game, I am.
I just don't give a damn.
It doesn't bother me that my ring finger is permanently crooked.
A Flatlined, uncommitted shrug
Like I felt when I looked at all Jimmy's facebook pics
Lukewarm--the perfect five
Cant seem to put in the effort to make the change.
Comfortably numb
Seeing both directions as paths with consequences--not good/bad, right/wrong, just different.
Do I live the adventure or build roots?
Tension, energy, pulling, dynamic, forcing
Should I eat chocolate or not?
Two would-be friends fight to death
Child Jaimie and Parent Jaimie stage warfare
Frenemys; needy, loving, hating
I hated some teachers and messengers I worked with because I needed understanding.
the pro-con list grows ad infinitum
The more I think about it the deeper I sink in the mire of indecision
Damned if I do, Damned if I don't
Whatever I pick destroys the possibility of experiencing the other
One win spells another's loss
I cant get what I want without taking it from someone else
bipolar, roller coaster
When I ask advice, one friend says, "Absolutely!" and the other, "Absolutely not!"
Swinging from a ten to a one.
I can be so sure of Gods love, but unconvinced of his goodness.
Stuck between duty and longing...
The identity of a gypsy philosopher or a loved community member.
Indifference is a balanced scale.
It doesn't matter what we do on my birthday
Static, effortless, detached, observing
I am interested in your thoughts, since I can't really pinpoint mine.
A sensible judge, free from bias
It doesn't matter whether my we go to the movies or stay home tonight.
acquaintences, cohabiting, small talk
I'm not sure I care if I see most people I have spent this year with again.
A flipped coin calls the shots
I am ok with moving to LA or living in Denver.
There are no winners, no losers.
The incentive to run another marathon just isn't there, but if you're game, I am.
I just don't give a damn.
It doesn't bother me that my ring finger is permanently crooked.
A Flatlined, uncommitted shrug
Like I felt when I looked at all Jimmy's facebook pics
Lukewarm--the perfect five
Cant seem to put in the effort to make the change.
Comfortably numb
Seeing both directions as paths with consequences--not good/bad, right/wrong, just different.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Walking Contradiction, Partly Truth and Partly Fiction.
dThats a line from a Kris Kristopherson song. Man its true about me right now. I had a mentally taxing day yestersday. This ride I heard about really got under my skin. http://bicyclefilmfestival.com/2009_site/images/flyers/bike_flyer04.jpg
Its a two-month ride across country, starting in NYC and ending up in LA. I was going to be in NYC and LA this summer. This ride pays $25 a day, plus $3000, plus airfare. It seems too good to be true! My dream gig!
But it means no road trip with boyfriend, no NYC time with Sara, no camping trip with John, no time for art.
I think it ended up hitting some identity issues for me. Am I this adventurous gypsy biker? A rooted, committed community member? A girlfriend, a hipster missionary? A faithful friend that doesn't back out of plans with friend because a better offer comes along? A scared, jobless girl that doesn't want to pass up a money-making opportunity? An opportunist who sees a story? Do I want to spend the summer with people I don't know, and lose the opportunity to deepen relationships with people I care about? Then again, I will meet new, exciting people, participate in an amazing adventure, and have an opportunity to write about 42 new personalities, two months worth of new locations, and 3500 miles of new scenery. Plus, I do not want to struggle with money all school year, and I have a way to make some money this summer that I would enjoy doing! Do I want to go to NYC and LA on my terms on my dime, or on someone elses terms, on someone elses dime? In the end I decided to throw my name in the hat. I am really excited about the opportunity, but at the same time, its hard to weigh against my other thoughts. Sometimes I feel "partly fiction." What I wrote:
Wow,
I heard about your ride, and I am all set to go! I am 29 years old and live in Denver CO. So far my life has been one big adventure! I grew up in rural Oregon where I participated in Future Farmers of America (I was on the milk tasting team, the soil-judging team, the welding team, and farm debating!) I went to the Naval Academy, lead Marines in War, got out, and became a bike messenger for 3 years in downtown Denver. My messenger career culminated in winning the Bike Messenger World Championships in Dublin, Ireland (I attached a podium pic!). I then decided to teach Math at the worst high school in Colorado for a year. Then I tried middle school. This whole time I have been working with a writing coach and harboring a desire to become a professional writer. Check out some of my blogs http://jaimieandchristiegotomexico.blogspot.com/, http://subtleredemptionstory.blogspot.com/.
I have traveled all over the world, living for extended periods of time in Africa, Kuwait, Papua New Guinea, and Italy. I have ridden my bike across country once before, unsupported, in a month from the coast of Oregon to Boston with a friend after college. I have traveled the Pacific Coast Highway, rode 1800 miles through Mexico (see blog above), and have done numerous small tours around the East Coast. I have been carless for about 3 years, and never plan on owning a vehicle again.
My bike is a custom Merlin with S&S couplers. Its my dream bike! I have road triple chain ring on the front, and a mountain bike cog in the back, juicy disk brakes with a wound up fork in the front....Its an extention of my body. I go everywhere with that thing!
I have already rode across country, and I have been in the "scene" for a while. Why would I want to do the ride this summer? Oddly enough, I already planned to be in NYC in June, and in LA in August. I would love the opportunty to write and ride all summer. Getting to know 42 new bike enthusiasts sounds like a blast, and living in a tent is fun for me (I have lived about 2.5 years of my life in a tent or vehicle :) ). I would love to chronicle the journey, and look forward to the opportunity to spread bicycle love!!
Respectfully,
Jaimie
Its a two-month ride across country, starting in NYC and ending up in LA. I was going to be in NYC and LA this summer. This ride pays $25 a day, plus $3000, plus airfare. It seems too good to be true! My dream gig!
But it means no road trip with boyfriend, no NYC time with Sara, no camping trip with John, no time for art.
I think it ended up hitting some identity issues for me. Am I this adventurous gypsy biker? A rooted, committed community member? A girlfriend, a hipster missionary? A faithful friend that doesn't back out of plans with friend because a better offer comes along? A scared, jobless girl that doesn't want to pass up a money-making opportunity? An opportunist who sees a story? Do I want to spend the summer with people I don't know, and lose the opportunity to deepen relationships with people I care about? Then again, I will meet new, exciting people, participate in an amazing adventure, and have an opportunity to write about 42 new personalities, two months worth of new locations, and 3500 miles of new scenery. Plus, I do not want to struggle with money all school year, and I have a way to make some money this summer that I would enjoy doing! Do I want to go to NYC and LA on my terms on my dime, or on someone elses terms, on someone elses dime? In the end I decided to throw my name in the hat. I am really excited about the opportunity, but at the same time, its hard to weigh against my other thoughts. Sometimes I feel "partly fiction." What I wrote:
Wow,
I heard about your ride, and I am all set to go! I am 29 years old and live in Denver CO. So far my life has been one big adventure! I grew up in rural Oregon where I participated in Future Farmers of America (I was on the milk tasting team, the soil-judging team, the welding team, and farm debating!) I went to the Naval Academy, lead Marines in War, got out, and became a bike messenger for 3 years in downtown Denver. My messenger career culminated in winning the Bike Messenger World Championships in Dublin, Ireland (I attached a podium pic!). I then decided to teach Math at the worst high school in Colorado for a year. Then I tried middle school. This whole time I have been working with a writing coach and harboring a desire to become a professional writer. Check out some of my blogs http://jaimieandchristiegotomexico.blogspot.com/, http://subtleredemptionstory.blogspot.com/.
I have traveled all over the world, living for extended periods of time in Africa, Kuwait, Papua New Guinea, and Italy. I have ridden my bike across country once before, unsupported, in a month from the coast of Oregon to Boston with a friend after college. I have traveled the Pacific Coast Highway, rode 1800 miles through Mexico (see blog above), and have done numerous small tours around the East Coast. I have been carless for about 3 years, and never plan on owning a vehicle again.
My bike is a custom Merlin with S&S couplers. Its my dream bike! I have road triple chain ring on the front, and a mountain bike cog in the back, juicy disk brakes with a wound up fork in the front....Its an extention of my body. I go everywhere with that thing!
I have already rode across country, and I have been in the "scene" for a while. Why would I want to do the ride this summer? Oddly enough, I already planned to be in NYC in June, and in LA in August. I would love the opportunty to write and ride all summer. Getting to know 42 new bike enthusiasts sounds like a blast, and living in a tent is fun for me (I have lived about 2.5 years of my life in a tent or vehicle :) ). I would love to chronicle the journey, and look forward to the opportunity to spread bicycle love!!
Respectfully,
Jaimie
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