win, lose or draw and Merry Christmas

wow, ok, love northern Thailand. i spent 6 days in the Chaing Mai region. the main thing i wanted to do was take a Thai cooking course, but i ended up kind of doing everything but that. here are the highlights:

- my new vagrant-mates: Sarah, Takashi, Craig, Pong, Sau, Nan, the other Nan, Nuran, Jake, the brother and sister from England, David, Tom, and Stephan, many more
- i fell in love with my seat-mate on the train, Nuran. he is 52 years old college Physics prof, father of three other adult Scientists. he was exuberantly friendly, preciously nerdy and very knowledge of local flora and fauna passing by out the window. he was going to a flower expo in Chaing Mai. for three days he was just going to take photos of flowers and he was so excited. he taught me helpful phrases and numbers in Thai. and offered me unlabeled small, white tablets to take for my cold, which i graciously consumed without a second thought as to whether or not that was a "smart idea". well, they didn't have poison in them. Nuran was really one of those rare unbelievably kind, generous people - he inspires me to love others without expecting anything in return.
- visiting elephant jungle habitat
- riding an elephant with Sarah - more uncomfortably, akwardly scary than i expected
- most phenomonal herbal spa treatment day with Sarah
- super hospitably fun hostel manager
- camping at hot springs with hostel folk
- sitting in outdoor hot spring under the vast Thai sky in the middle of winter (it's weird to be looking at the same stars and constellations that i'm so familiar with in such a foreign context)
- hiking through rice fields along narrow foot paths
- climbing up around the crystal clear, jungly waterfall
- picking passion fruit from tree and scooping out fruit with fingers
- sampling plethora of incredible coffee shops slash health food stores in city
- reading Red Moon Rising and Bible at said coffee shops and under certain trees
- getting lost in city alone and not caring
- joining in on random Thai church's Christmas Eve pary uninvited and completely welcomed - i was looking for, expecting some type of sacred, somber service full of peace and candlelight, but instead when i showed up with my Hawaiian/Japanese semi-religious friend, Takashi, the church members were in the middle of an exciting round of "win, lose, or draw". They encouraged us to partake of their giant buffet of tasty homemade Thai fare and gave us homemade ice cream with corn kernels. we sang, we prayed, we played games, people shared, people loved, the kids put on a Christmas pageant. the first gift they gave me was a little casette of some sermon about prayer, but then we realized that it was in Thai, so they gave me a new present, a coffee mug, with a very artistic photograph of this Western man holding a Western woman. i donated the mug to the hostel and my friend, Takashi left with a nice hand towel that will be very helpful in his travels. it was like they were expecting us or something, like i was meant to spend this Christmas Eve with this small body of believers at Grace Church Chaing Mai in Thailand. it was completely natural, completely novel. it was extraordinary and foreign and familiar all at once. a beautiful picture of the body of Christ. i think God is pleased with that church and their love for one another and for strangers.


i hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, doing old things or new.
i am now back in America - it was a long ride home.
i am trying to embrace the changes in my life.
maybe so they don't "embrace" me or suffocate me.
it's a hard transition.
but i'm choosing joy.
i'm choosing to weep and remember
and i'm choosing joy.

there are many people on this continent that
i would like to hug and to hear from.
all my love,
- m.

salty Thai rain and the red lagoon

wow - ok, Ben and i went to the beach in Thailand for 4/5 days, the Krabi province. wow, the water was warm and the perfect, electric-turquoise green, the sand was cream-colored and so fine, like powder. the waves were miniscule, which may not be ideal for adventure boarding but leaves an amazing, huge-crazy-serene-hot-tub effect on the ocean.

i hate the idea of the mask and the breathing tube and i don't really like looking at fish, but we went snorkeling on various islands and it took about two seconds to be surrounded by schools of exotic, tropical fish. we rode around on this sweet long-tail wooden boat. i love cruising on the surface of the water and i love the unpredictable bumpiness when we hit different waves. and i love how it seems like the islands are moving rather than the boat.

got burned out by the megaly touristed beach town of Ao Nong... but the last day at the beach was for sure the best. i got a late start out to a neighboring island. when we were aproaching this other beach there was a fine rain outside. i left by stuff in the shop of this nice Indian man on the island and i just headed out for the rainy coast. it was such an incredible experience being in the ocean when it's raining. i had salt on my lips without putting my head in the water, the raindrops were splashing the ocean water onto my face. as i looked out right above the surface of the vast ocean there was a fine mist hovering over the water. it was such a transcendant experience the warm water, the cool rain, the fine mist, the empty beach - it was completely sublime and i have no idea how long i was in the water or when the rain stopped, but it was mostly off and on all day.

later i ran into Ben and we went to check out this remote lagoon he had seen on the map. wow, oh wow! hard to describe. we climbed up the side of this hill using a muddy rope, tree roots and crevices - not the best conditions but the rope and the mysterious lagoon were too luring. we went up, across and back down. it was crazy slippery and strenuous. when we got to the lagoon - i had never seen anything like it. the flora and fauna had this storybook/fairytale effect. i can't explain to you this giant tree in the middle... the bottom of the trunk flanked out in five directions like a star. each wing was pretty thick and taller than me for sure. i couldn't even see the top of the tree - it was super surreal and the dirt was this electric-brick-red, super slimy yet firm. wow, this was the highlight of my island experience for sure. so, yeah, when isolated from the trendy resort/Western vacation commercial scene, the beaches in Thailand are actually quite phenomonal and full of beauty.

currently in Chiang Mai, northern Thailand, loving it, more to come.

village life.

went to the village, stayed a few days.
it felt like a museum, but it was really their house.
we picked coffee in the fog, and ate pineapples on the patio.
walked out in the dark to milk the cow, but misunderstood
and thought she said "the cow has no milk."
tired and disoriented, i went back to bed.

the house was made of red clay and wood.
i stayed upstairs and the floor was slanted.
i knocked over this really cheap piece of furniture.
it was really loud and i was really embarassed.
everything i did was juto, unclean.
the family was Hindu and very traditional.
and the wife kept wanting to know which caste we were from.

the bus ride was 10 hours, mostly clinging to
side of mountain via the seat in front of us.
bedeshis sliding, laughing on the back bench of the bus
stopped in many incredible little villages along the way
slash i just finished my last parasite-killer-medicine
most likely due to the tasty village fare.

there was a wood fire in the juto kitchen where we mostly hung out.
with the daughter-in-laws of the family.
it was like a campfire, but we were inside and there was no chimney.
the young women fed me and freed me.
and they laughed when i couldn't roll the bread as smoothly as them.
putrid steamy yoghurt and sweet pickled lopsy.
burning dung for fuel and sipping home-grown coffee.
outhouses and stone-grinder-things.
primitivity is good for the soul.
it seemed like i was getting back to my roots
returning home, even though i was never a pioneer.
everyone should spend the night in a one-room-cabin
or a house made of clay - it changes things,
it makes you want to listen more and speak less.
and thank God for your rice.

after the village we
debriefed in Pokhara
paragliding, kayaking,
hiking, crying,
skipping rocks.
we visited a family that lived in
a tiny room just a block from the
tourist area, worlds apart

i leave for Thailand tomorrow
with peace in my heart.
together, nepal, together-apart.

the Home of Love.

weird that i haven't mentioned anything about the Ammas (Nepali for "mothers"). most Mondays and Fridays Ben and I go out to Phrem Ghar - "the Home of Love" for elderly women and help around the house or just hang out with Jyoti, the director, and her family. i've had so many great times out at this house. wow, priceless.

--me and Jyoti and her youngest daughter--

Jyoti and Shiva have 3 daughters. their oldest is named Mary, the next is Pratiksha, which is Nepali for "waiting" because they were waiting to have a boy, their youngest daughter is Prasumsa, which means "praise." kind of like, "ok, God we're just going to praise you and trust that you know best."

this is the day we were knocking squash off the vine from the second story balcony with a pole. one of the squash accidentally hit a passerby on the shoulder. oops.


this is also the day that Brent from the WMF office in America was visiting. it was a crazy day. Jyoti and her husband, Shiva, were entertaining about 12 different suprise guests at once. but that's the sweet thing about Phrem Ghar - the table is always open, neighbors, friends, family are always stopping by for tea or even to stay the night. I think we had three rounds of chai that day. and i remember the Dhal Bhat (rice & lentils) was extra special and spicy.










here are some of the Ammas doing their thing on the roof. they grow their own vegetables. and preparing vegetables Nepali style for the evening Dhal Bhat is actually crazy-complicated: cutting, peeling, drying, soaking, frying, pickeling. it's intense work. note: the lady second from the right is weaving a mat from backyard-straw by hand.

here i am grinding cloves for the pumpkin pie
with Jyoti's sweet spice/grain stone grinder thing that she received as a wedding present.
hmm, in America we get blenders and bread machines
and here they get two pieces of stone.
i keep saying i'm going to get a stone-grinder-thing when
i get back to the states -- but then, i don't even have a bed
or a table or a pan or a fork
or an address...

we've been baking a lot recently at Phrem Ghar. Jyoti has an oven which is about unheard of in Nepal. and she asked us, since we were from a land that uses ovens to teach her how to bake. so, this is our pumpkin pie, pre-pumpkin-pie. it's actually a squash from the garden, but squash pie doesn't sound nearly as delicious. it was a hilarious experience we had about 5 different recipes we were looking at, using whatever ingredients we had that were similar to the very American recipes. anyways - the pie was amazing. wow, i really love cooking - i mean i thought i liked it - but i actually love it. it was such a treat for all the Ammas. and it was so perfect with a warm cup of spicy, Nepali tea.

and this is Genni Maya Amma.
oh, Genni Maya. wow, i wish you could meet her. she is 81 years old and came to stay in Prem Ghar in March after seven years of living in a hut made of plastic and rubbish and surviving from handouts and begging. she is paralyzed in her legs and cannot walk. she's taught me so much about loving people. at first i was honestly intimidated by her, maybe afraid because i didn't know how to love her. i didn't know how i could communicate with her. but now i feel so intimately connected with her - in this completely unintellectual way. oh, if you only knew what it means to me to see her smile, to hear her laugh. wow. we've been through a lot together. i've massaged her feet and back with mustard oil when she was sick. we've bathed her many times outside under the sunshine. Ben and I are always cleaning, scrubbing, disinfecting her room. and then once as a suprise we filled her room with this really soft, feminine insence called "smile." she gave up smoking once because of me. but then the next week she held my camera hostage to blackmail me to get her some smokes. yesterday when we were leaving she started crying. she wanted us to take her with us. she says that everytime we leave but yesterday she was crying as she said it - it just about killed me - i just about couldn't walk away, but we had to, you know, and it doesn't make sense even that she would want to leave, that she want to go back to the streets. and it doesn't make sense that Jyoti should go on loving her and caring for her when she doesn't want it... i don't know. i guess loving people doesn't always make sense. it's about being faithful. it's about loving them with grace and speaking truth into their lives. and oh, i pray that Genni Maya does come to accept that she is lovable and that God loves her so acutely and so perfectly just as she is, even as i process what that means as well.

crazy ironic.

so i was walking by a bookstore last week and a National Geographic caught my eye. it was a travel-edition and on the cover was the phrase: "the best little city in America: Austin, Texas." being in Nepal i was freaking out showing everyone, who mainly didn't care because they didn't spend five incredible years of their lives in that town. so i bought the magazine. and in this same magazine there was an article that rated 94 various World Heritage sites from best to worst. they had a panel of environmental, cultural, historical, tourism, blah, blah, blah experts who all contributed to the reviews. number one on the list were the fjords in Norway - yeah sure, they look spectacular. and then i keep flipping the pages, the reviews are getting worse and worse. and i couldn't believe it of all the places around the world -- Kathmandu Valley came in dead last on this particular list. man, i had to laugh because i was sitting in Kathmandu reading the article. and well, the things they said about it were definitely true - polluted, crowded, politically chaotic, and obviously poverty stricken.

wow, i just love how life doesn't make sense like that. i mean i started this journey in Austin - "the best little city in America!" and now i'm here in the town that came in last place!! and you wouldn't believe it - i've been overwhelmed this past week with all these jewels i've been finding nestled in the crooked streets of Kathmandu. like my new favorite little Japanese-coffee-shop-diner with the best little grilled sandwiches and fancy green tea. they even serve coffee that was grown here in Nepal - who knew!! it feels like Portland, Oregon, but you're eating Japanese food and the people are speaking Nepali and delicate French-cafe-music is coming through the speakers - oh, i just love it. and then there's this little Spaghetti Bar in this one alley - i've never seen anything like it - there are only about 15 bar stools, everyone sits at the counter and you watch the guys toss the spaghetti - it's so cozy. the tentalating Italian spices and sauces lure me, before i've even turned the corner. then there's this one pedestrian bridge... oh, man, i have to start a whole new post to tell you about the bridge...

but mainly i just wanted to share the irony; the absurdity of life and lists and ratings and Western standards.

vegetable lights.

before i mention the bridge i want to tell you about the vegetable market. the other day Ben and I were walking home from the bus stop. and well, we were later than usual and the sun has been setting earlier - and i just never thought about what that means for the street vendors. i assumed they went home if they weren't in a lit area or there were no street lights. But to my suprise and aesthetic delight, they don't close shop, they light a candle and place the candle in the middle of their blanket, layered with vegetables and spices. as we were walking down the street - i was overwhelmed with the urban romance, the beauty of the candlelight lining the sidewalks at dusk.

so, here's a photo and sure it's not quality because i don't know much about shutter speed or perspective. it's the idea behind the photo that is beautiful to me. so, each candle represents a different vendor. and well, the tragic implication of this idea is that the people have to keep working around the clock. this whole idea sheds light onto the life of the poor and how they never really get "a break" and even if they do work all day they still struggle to make ends meet. but i guess the beauty of it is, that they did light the candles and that maybe they sit a little closer on the sidewalk because of the cold. and well, if they had remained in the village they may never have had new neighbors to get to know and their children would have never had the opportunity to go to the government schools in the city. and maybe the energy of the streets inspires them, they know that they are not alone.

----------

so, there's this pedestrian bridge in a busy part of town. and i was crossing it the other day as pedestrians do and looked out and i had to stop in my tracks to take in the view in front of me - its scenery and its implications. there is this pristine little lake with a white temple on an island in the middle of the "holy" water. the lake takes up about a city block and is completely fenced off, which means it is not littered with trash and the surrounding greenery is in fact decently maintained. and well, the view from this bridge is so incredible mainly because of the contrast between the solemnity of the lake and the chaos of the streets around it, the stillness of the water and the noise of the passing traffic. at first i thought it was ridiculous to fence off one of the few green areas of town. but now i see that it has to be this way, not just to keep the people out or the trash out, but because the one can have no meaning without the other.

beauty in this sense is diversity in unity. it's unified because the lake makes up a complete city block, it "fits" within the system, yet it is so unique, so different than its surroundings. the view reconciles the city and the pastoral, the quiet and the chaos, creating this deep, easily over-lookable dynamic beauty. i am always looking for meaningful wholes in the world around me. wholeness means diversity - there is something so graceful about these ideas/experiences/works of art that always draw me. kind of like the life of Jesus - he was a king but he came to serve, he was God but he always refered to himself as "the Son of man." God's very identity as a triune God is complete diversity of parts in unity; existing, working in harmony.

so, yes, beauty is all around us. take that National Geographic. i submit that there is no where in the world that we should not visit because the facilities may have been run down. i think there is always something new and beautiful to experience and learn.

oh, right and if this topic interests you, please read this article from the Cry by Joel Klepac, titled, "Beauty and Redemption: Arti in Community Among the Poor." - super brilliant and inspiring! -- www.wordmadeflesh.org/learn/issues3.html

yes please.

woke up this morning to the most incredible himalayan sunrise.
!we got to be tourists this weekend -- in Nargarkot!
it's this beautiful little forest village slash ghost town.
on the edge of the most spectacularly surreal view
of the massive wall of earth known as the Himalayas.

clouds below, earth above, backwards upside down
loud friendly russians, the town without a sound
a nice vibe, a short hike, eating fruits and whey
meander down a secret path, turn and run away


conversation, nature, adventure, swinging from the village vines with the local kids, and lots of Nepali tea

more photos...

times, they are a changin'

"look, it's Buwaa in the tree," Brooke exclaimed after community prayer a couple weeks ago.

so we all looked out the 3rd story window and yes, Buwaa was in the tree picking off the leaves off one of the 2 trees in the backyard of the children's home. Buwaa is the grandfather of the family here; he's the cutest little man, hardly says a word. he's really just visiting, but he's been here as long as i have, so i don't know... basically he's running out of things to do. we think he's bored obviously. but i always say it's the thought that counts, so, yeah, thanks Buwaa for your help around the house.



i've been hearing from friends in North America about treasured autumn sights and smells, the changing leaves, the beautiful colors...

well, sometimes the seasons just change and you don't even know when the change started and sometimes little men crawl up in the trees early in the morning and pick off each promising piece one by one and throw them to the ground and sweep them up with a broom and put them out with the trash. and then you know - ok, things are changing and maybe it makes it easier to move on because there was no romance in the farewell and maybe it is easier because you had to laugh because it's hilarious and well, that tree was your only chance of upclose natural beauty. and maybe you're tired of looking for beauty in such accute, abstract contexts.


so, Buwaa, i admire your creative use of time.
and, Kathmandu, thank you for challenging me in my pursuit of beauty.

land of spice.

i like cinnamon.
i like it in my cappuccino.
and in my coffee
i like it in my tea.
i like the way it smells.
and i love how it's dry and spicy.
i love how we eat mom's cinnamon rolls
every Christmas morning
and i hate that i'm not gonna be there
this year.
i love how it looks like bark from a tree
before you grind it up.
and i like how you can buy sticks of it in america.

is there such thing as a cinnamon tree? or is it a bush?
whatever it is, however it comes,
i want to plant one in my yard, if i ever have a yard someday
or maybe i'll just put it in a pot that i take with me wherever i go
and then after a lot of years, i'll cut off a piece of the tree
and i'll suck on it a while and then i'll grind it up
i'll put it in my coffee and i'll offer some to my friends
and when they leave

i'll sip my coffee and i'll close my eyes
and i'll remember how every Christmas morning my mom and i
would get out the special, huge navy blue coffee mugs
which are minty green on the inside
and really more like bowls than mugs
and we'd fill them, half drip, half microwaved milk
and we'd practically gulp the coffee
as we pulled apart the cinnamon rolls
with our hands
and i don't even remember when we would open the gifts
because it was really about the people
and the coffee and the cinnamon rolls
the warmth, the smells, the love...

so, now i just need to find some cinnamon seeds.
i'll plant them in this little ceramic cup.
and i'll feel safe as i watch them grow.

falling, fall.

when you walked it was like
you were always falling.
you would lift your leg
and fall into the next step
and your foot would catch you.
next step.

your shoulders were so thin.
i probably could have lifted you.
i probably could have held you.
step.

your arms were so mutilated,
so empty, always hungry.
i had to leave the room when
they came in to take your blood.
next step.

i'm sorry for the time
i turned the corner
because i didn't want to feed you.
and i didn't want to refuse.

you see, friend, sometimes i fall too
and my feet aren't there to catch me.
step.

in memory of.

our dear friend Raju passed away Saturday night. i heard it wasn't a pretty death - he vomitted a lot through his mouth and nose - it's like his body emptied itself and then just died, surrendered. it was supposed to be my shift - saturday night. but the night before i was really unsettled about it - i even cried thinking about staying the night with him at the new hospital. i cried because i was afraid of being alone. then i cried because i realized that he must be thinking the same thing. i fell asleep in my tears friday night and i woke up the next morning feeling very alive and comforted. i knew that Jesus was right there with me and that he would comfort both me and Raju at the hospital that night. but basically - logistics, logistics, i didn't stay with him that night, one of the pastors from church did. and i see how God arranged that for Raju's sake because the pastor that night was able to pray with him and speak comfort and peace into some of his fears as he approached death.

i remember the first time i went to visit him in the hospital just 2 weeks ago, when i walked in the huge room full of patients, he reached out his weak hand and called to me, "friend, friend" and a tear rolled his cheek as he raised his hands in the traditional nepali greeting. there are certain phrases that Raju would repeat over and over in the days & nights i spent with him. -- "so much weakness" and "what to do, what to do?" He was in such pain and he couldn't sleep and i never knew what to say, just "i know, i know, i'm sorry, friend." and, well, when i hear his voice saying, "what to do, what to do?" i think of Jehosaphat's prayer in 2 Chronicles when he's surrounded by this army and he cries out to God, "we don't know what to do, but our eyes are upon you."

and Raju, now that you're gone, i still don't know what to do. what do i do about your friends at Chetra Patti who are also suffering and have no place to stay warm and they're dying too. i still don't know what to do -- but, i'll turn my eyes to God for the joy of the Lord is my strength.

day makers.

my day started off with the Himalayas in the distance and an extra spicy cup of chiya in my hands. "himal" is the nepali word for "mountains that have snow even in the summer". it's like the eskimos who have so many different words for snow - of course the nepali people are going to have more than one word for mountains. Kathmandu valley is surrounded by "pahad" which are mountains below the tree-line. the sky is usually so cloud-covered that you can't see the big mountains. so today was special - the view was so spectacular - the shiny, white peaks almost seemed unreal - it made my day for sure. it's like nothing bad could happen - because i had seen the mountains. so, the himalayas are my day makers. tell me about yours.

lost in translation.

this is just a small sample of my favorites:

- a kid told me that there was no school today because "the mouses" were taking over the school. later that day this Dutch lady was talking about how tragic it was that all the schools in the valley were just down this week. i said, "right, because of the rats." didn't get much of a response from her. turns out it was actually because of "the maoists" reaking havoc. right, the schools were shut down because the ever-threatening-communist-mountain-rebels, not because the pocket-size-mean-furry varmints were infiltrating all the schools in the valley, right.

- same day a friend was telling me his life story. he was telling me how he grew up in a nomadic mountain tribe. he said his family followed the cows around and took care of them. "how do you call that?" he asked. i said, "hmm?" he said, "you know, like a shepherd to the cows." i said, "yeah, like a cow shepherd." he continued on with the story. a few minutes later it dawned on me. oh, right, a cowboy. we have a name for that, we call it a cowboy. i was born and raised 45 minutes from Dallas, Texas and i forgot the word "cowboy."

- i asked the little boy in my host family what he wanted for his birthday. i heard "paints." i was immediately affirming this idea. yes, art, of course, that is the perfect gift for a kid. he may have unrealized gifts and just so much that he wants to express. he said, "no, pants." the kid needs new pants. right, art is a luxury to the poor. it is foreign to kids in this neighborhood. we must clothe them before they can paint us a picture.

- in the hospital with my dear friend, Raju, i hear him say, "i need peace." i put my hand on his shoulder, affirming him, "ok, you need peace, like in your heart, you want peace on the inside?" he said, "no, i need piss, i need to piss."


yeah, life's not about being understood. it's about having people around, communicating, listening, often misunderstanding, but always loving.

my day off.

last week on my day off i spent the night at my friend Gloria's house. Gloria is from Uganda, she's a volunteer here, supported by some church in Finland that she's never visited. i love staying at Gloria's. we always have a big breakfast with lots of breads and spreads and her neighbor makes great coffee. her garden is so verdant and tropical. i feel like i'm in Peru or maybe Kenya in the Spring. it's defnitely a rejuvenating experience. the first sounds of the morning are the birds on the balcony and the landlord's yoga-chanting downstairs. on this particular day off, i hopped on the back of a motorcycle with my friends Bill and Janet. yes, three of us and our bags on one motorcycle - quite exciting slash i'm glad i couldn't see much of the oncoming traffic due to Janet's hair.

bill dropped us off at a bus park and our goal was to get into Bhaktapur without having to pay the tourist fee of $10. i've been hearing about Bhaktapur since i got here and i just had to know what all the hype was about. it took janet and i about an hour to infiltrate the walled/guarded city unnoticed. even as we were trying to cross bridge after bridge i was telling myself, -- oh, this is probably going to be really lame and not worth all this effort... but i was wrong, it was so worth the effort. this village-suburb was one of the most bizarely charming experiences. such a European feel. actually, Germany provided the funding for this town so it really does resemble a quaint little European village with cobblestone streets winding in and out of larger open air plazas, in this case the plazas were graced with beautiful ancient-looking temples. no cars, no pollution, no noise, yes the local men still hasseled me so i just escaped to the most pleasant roof-top cafe. i had the place to myself. i sat at the end of one of those long, skinny tables in the Italian movies usally adorned with a white table cloth dancing in the wind. there was a light canopy above and green vines and plants all around. they only offered Nescafe, but the surroundings were perfectly pleasant. i'd like to go back sometime.


read while waiting in the line at the immigration office - Annie Dillard's the Writing Life - captivating, intoxicating, brilliant
currently reading - Announcing the Reign of God - seems like a good idea, but i'm not hooked yet

thank you, medical community.

hmm, the other day in my journal i wrote out a prayer thanking God for all the people on the earth that desire to work in the medical field. i'm going to make it a point to be more thankful for them in the future. because, well, i sure don't like anything that has to do with sickness or the treatment thereof. i hate hospitals; i hate spit cups and blood tests and bed pans and IVs and roaches and bandages and oxygen tanks and medications... but i've found myself spending a lot of time at one particular hospital this week at the bedside of a friend of mine. his name is Raju. he's been living on the streets, using drugs for the past 20 years. he was one of the first people i met here. his HIV is really advanced and his tuberculosis unmistakable. it's hard to even translate the experiences of this past week into words on a screen. i have been so touched by the many people who've sacrificed and pulled together to care for and love Raju in this time. Raju has had a tough life. but he has found hope through the love of Jesus shown to him through so many people before me. and well, my life has been changed just sitting/sleeping on the floor by his bed this past week, and doing all those things i hate to do...

on a lighter note: i cut/layered my hair with fingernail clippers on a whim yesterday morning... i think it was a good idea.

intermittently reading:
Bird by Bird - by Anne Lamott -- random, light, moving
Prophetic Imagination - by i forget -- hard, accademic, but i think he's on to something

love buckets and flower juice.

ok, we (30 or so people) loaded up in a little bus last weekend and headed for the hills. wow, it was so refreshing to be surrounded by trees and rigid topography. the focus of the retreat was "the 5 love languages." you know, finding your love language, learning about other people's. sure, maybe it's over-discussed a lot in america, at least if i have anything to do with it. but i think it's fun to introduce the idea to people who've never thought about it before. the premise of the love language theory is that we all have these "love tanks" that are filled only through certain means. so when our friend was translating from English to Nepali - he was stuck on the word "tank," which is not as culturally relevant here, and i suggested, you know like a "love bucket." -- the plastic bucket is used to catch the daily supply of water. it is a pivotal item in every nepali household.-- ok, so i loved the image. in the end we all drew names from a hat and our assignment is to intentionally show love to that person via their primary love language over the next month.

so, the little mountain valley was gorgeous. i went on many walks/jogs/photo-hikes. and the village people were amazing. so many people asked us into their homes. i mean they definitely all stopped what they were doing to stare, but there was still a very warm feeling in the valley. my favorite cup of tea so far was at this one little man's shop - he wouldn't accept any money, which is so backwards because they have nothing, and well so beautiful.

the last morning i went on a short hike up the hill with two girls from Karuna Ghar. we were looking for others from our group, but found no one. we got a bit lost and i was concerned that everyone else might be waiting for us down the hill. in my indecisive disaray i turned around and the girls were excitedly picking flowers. they said, "molly aunti, you squeeze the bottom of the flower and drink the juice like this." cupping the sweet red blossoms in their adorable little nepali hands. right, excellent idea, girls. how could i have almost missed the flower juice.

my pilgrim friend.

suprisingly so, i have been approached by several male tourists recently in a completely foreign tongue. they walk up to me quite confidently as if they know me or something and this is all i hear: "jibber, jabber, jibber jabber, blah, blah, blah". i mean i was even a Linguistics major for a season, but i had no idea who these people were or what they were trying to communicate to me. i catch myself responding quite often to other tourists, "i'm sorry i don't speak that language." and well, i've figured out that they think i'm Israeli. seems random, i know, but the number one ethnicity here among tourists is Israeli. so bizarre, such a tiny little country and it's not even that close by... they're not at all what i would've expected people from Israel to be like, there's not a single Orhthodox Jew in the mix. there are so many of them and they seem so directionless. They come to Kathmandu to try to figure things out. they consume a lot of coffee, hummous, and other substances and often mistake me for one of them especially when i where this one shirt with wild colors and lots of flowers.

and well, talking about Israel reminds me of a friend of mine. to lessen the exploitative nature of this narrative, i'll call him - Jimmy. I met Jimmy shortly after i got to Kathmandu. Jimmy is from the Netherlands, loves Jesus and was just sensing that there had to be more than his 9-5 in Holland. so he quits his job and buys a plane ticket to India i think. he travels around India for a while, making friends and seeking God. then he comes through Kathmandu and makes friends with one of my friends here. he really connects with a lot of the kids here on the street. but Jimmy felt God calling him to go to China. he goes to China, buys a motorcycle and rides around for several weeks. back in Holland Jimmy had been engaged but it was called off and he ended up with both of their rings and he wrote a poem about burying the rings someday in the tallest mountain in the world. so Jimmy decides to hit up Mt. Everest. he buries the rings (i love poets) and is crying out to God and God places the word Jerusalem in his heart. so he comes down the mountain and embarks on a motorcycle journey from Everest to Jerusalem. he makes it to the Pakistan border, but for some reason they don't want to let tall skinny, peaceful Scandanavian boy through. Jimmy comes back to Kathmandu - where i meet up with him. Jimmy shares with us his passion to bring God's peace to people in Jerusalem. Jimmy hung out with our crowd here only for a couple weeks. it was short, but it was so sweet. he is passionate, he is fearless. his church in the Netherlands didn't really support his decision to abandon his old life and to follow God on this journey. so the night before Jimmy got on a plane for Jerusalem, our church gathered around Jimmy and prayed for him and sent him out as one of our own. we celebrated with him this vision that God had given him and then we said goodbye. whenever i think of Israel now, i'm going to think of Jimmy.

Buechner says, "religion points to that area of human experience where in one way or another man comes upon mystery as a summons to pilgrimage." my friend Jimmy has been on a pilgrimage. and really maybe we're all pilgrims - it just looks different in different contexts. i think of the last verse in the song at ian and camille's wedding and it makes me smile:

haste thee on from grace to glory
armed by faith and winged by prayer
heaven's eternal days before thee
God's own hand shall guide thee there
soon shall close our earthly mission
soon shall pass our pilgrim days
hope shall change to glad fruition
faith to sight and prayer to praise

i need help

it's funny i keep hearing from people in America, "molly, i love what you're doing. i want to help people too." and i think, man, if they only knew how little i am doing and how little i know about what i'm doing here. I can only do what i see other people like Brook, Maggie, Kara and Silas do. i can only do what deep down i think Jesus would do. and let me tell you - i'm even hesitant at that. i really didn't come here "to help people" - i came here to see more of God, to meet Jesus in the midst of this desperate world.

i am such a baby when it comes to the streets and knowing how to interact with the drug addicts and beggars. i see these guys' abscesses and wounds from drug use and i freeze. i don't know what to do. but what i do know is that thousands of people walk by these guys every day, thousands of locals and even hundreds of tourists through the week and well, these guys who are addicted to drugs, the names on their lips are Maggie, Brook, Kara, Silas. they approach me with such joy and such humility. I see that one guy is wearing Maggie's pants and the other guy is wearing a sweater that Kara gave him. these guys approach me and these are the names on their lips, they know i am friends with these people and i say "yeah, i'm their friend. how's it going?" and they tell me about their recent ailments and their friends' conditions and maybe i sit with them and maybe we eat rice but maybe we don't and they tell me how they're meeting up with Brook later and she's going to take care of their wounds and she might take them to the hospital and sit with them. and yeah, hopefully while i am here God will soften my heart and i will not be sicked out by the abscesses and i will be willing to take time out and to sit with them and to love them.

our community here is about to start another wave of meetings with these guys. many of them are ready. they are desperate and they want to believe in Jesus more than they believe in drugs. they want to come live at "the mercy house" - which right now houses about 15 guys full of life and love that a year ago were living on the streets themselves. a year ago they could not dream about life beyond their next fix and had never tasted of the freedom that Jesus had to offer them. it's amazing the transformation i see here. i get to hang out with the guys at the mercy house every once in a while and i am always so encouraged by the joy and the redemption covering their lives. ben and i might get to meet with them more regularly - i would offer them guitar/music and ben can teach them about computers - pretty sweet.

but right, i really feel that my life here is less about me "helping people" and more about them blessing me and maybe i do get to pass on some things that have been given to me every once in a while. i think back to my first week with my family here and the only small, tangible gift i brought with me from america - a little decorative cross for the wall and a little book about gratitude in a little, yellow bag. i feel like that exchange was kind of forshadowing of my experience here because really the gift didn't even come from me! my super generous, kind-hearted friend, Nikki, in LA gave me this gift to give to my family because i'm that much of a slacker. i remember Nikki was like, "i even have this cute little yellow bag we could put it in" and i thought that was unnecessary, but we did it anyways and well, now that little yellow bag is hanging on the wall next to the cross. it was just as important to the family. i never would have thought it could be that special to anyone.

yeah, Nouwen points out that Jesus says "blessed are the poor" not "blessed are those who care for the poor." so, yes wanting to help is such a noble desire, full of grace, so beautiful. but i have had to realize that God's blessing to me is coming from the very ones i want to help and that i want to serve. Nouwen says, this is so key i think, "Ministry is first of all, receiving God's blessing from those to whom we minister." yeah, so i am so overwhelmed with goodness and gratefulness to God and to the ones that i came here "to help."

~currently reading: Here and Now by Henri Nouwen - definitely changing my life.

paint me over.

lying on the floor with Maggie
ben in the corner
brook and kara paint their new walls
the perfect brown elludes us again
callouses on their hands, holding up my pants
playin a couple rounds of however many steps to kevin bacon
and we were singing... bye, bye miss american pie...
turns out ben knows all six verses
turns out brook loves the monkeys too,
you know, hey, hey we're the monkeys,
i'm a believer
windows open
crisp air flowin'
neighbors looking in.
sunset sillouetting
the mountains around
maybe we'll make
our own prayer flags.
and maybe we'll paint the wall
brown again.
so beautiful.
so simple.
so vibrant.
so toxic.
maybe it was the paint fumes.
or maybe it was just a good time.
night, fall over kathmandu.

where the rapids have no names

i like this font. it looks like a typewriter.

right, so i went rafting last week. so incredible - mainly because it was the first time i got to get out of the crazyness of the city since i've been here and mainly because Nepal is so beautiful. the mountains outside of the valley (kathmandu is in a huge valley completely surrounded by smaller green mtns) were so amazing. so steep, so vibrant, so tropical, just dripping with color - all different shades of green. the rafting experience was a bit more grass roots than i'm used to, which is so nice.

rafts are great and all but i my favorite part is jumping out and floating in the less rapid parts. i and a couple others were out of the raft for quite a while and the current was pretty strong. it just made me laugh how fast we were floating down the river. i kept thinking the guide will tell us when we need to get back in the boat, you know if there are rapids ahead, but instead he just yelled, not very concerned about liability, in a loud fierce Nepali accent, "swim to the left!" or "swim to the middle!" it was great. slash i was thinking - are you serious? are we in danger? but whatever, it felt great to be in the water - so freeing, i can't even tell you. there's something so beautiful about being in the water in your clothes. it just seems so natural. i think skinny dipping is over-romanticized as being this super-liberating experience. and well, maybe it is, but i feel like the focus is usually "i'm not wearing any clothes." and when i get in the water with my clothes on the focus is usually "i'm in the water!"

ok, right, rafting was great after all the floating. when we got to the big rapids i wasn't as afraid of falling out. there were a couple times when i thought, "this looks more like a wave at the ocean that we're going straight into..." yeah, it was so excellent. amazing scenery. amazing rapids. amazing water.

so, when the trip ended we were all really soaked and really tired. but the bus with our dry clothes hadn't made it yet, something about the Maoists holding up trafic we heard - no big deal. we ate lunch, the clothes came, we went up to the road to catch a bus back to kathmandu. it was hot. i fell asleep on the side of the road. i wake up and there are no cars passing. we find out the Maoists have shut down public transportation in the valley and were burning tires in the villages, blockading the only road back to the valley. hmm, we're not in kansas anymore, eh? well, we hung out at the little river/jungle/cafe for 5 1/2 hours... finally something happened and we were able to catch a bus back to the valley. it was quite an experience. we crammed in the back of the bus. excruciating Hindi music blaring on and off through the speakers, metal seats infront of us crashing into our knees. we laughed. we shifted. we tried to sleep. really it was unforgetable and you know, i wouldn't want it any other way.

i posted photos from rafting and many other things on the photo link.

a bottle of coke

i decided to buy a nice cold beverage - Coca-Cola - for my family last night as a suprise. i knew they'd mentioned liking it and i'd never seen them drink it. mind you, i gave up all carbonated beverages on principle at the age of 7. (sure i make exceptions on occassion for special drinks).

but there are other principles i have too
about celebrating, about life, about love.
so last night we all had a glass.
we were all sitting on the bed.
i taught them how to say "cheers"
and how to toast one another.
we all drank.
we were all smiles.
everyone together.
everyone toasting.
it was priceless.
it was beautiful.
i'll never forget it.
who would have thought...
one little bottle of pop.
could bring so much.
joy.

photo lovin'

when i travel or live in a place where there are lots of tourists - i like to offer to take pictures of couples and/or families. because otherwise they're always like, "ok, you take a picture of me with this in the background and then i'll take one of you with this in the background." and well, someone is always missing from the shot. couples and/or families are supposed to be together. what couple wants to decorate their house with photos of one of the two of them by themselves on vacation?

so today at my favorite-chill-restaurant i took a photo of this Asian couple sitting nearby. They were taking turns taking photos of each other and the exotic food before them. (i've never been much into taking photos of food, i'd rather just eat it - but you know, a lot of folks like to -- Ben, my family in Switzerland).

so, yeah, the couple was really grateful and it makes me smile to think that they might decorate their home with that photo someday. wherever their home is... selfishly, i'm glad that i got to be involved in their lives and unselfishly, i'm glad they got to be in the photo together.

hmm, i went on a sweet rafting trip yesterday. more to come on that...

just etre, let it be.

there's this lovely French documentary called, Etre et Avoir, "to be and to have." it chronicles the life of this quaint little village centered around the one-room school house. sure, call it slow, but there's something beautiful about it. the film captures the children just "being" and growing as opposed to performing or acting.

the Word Made Flesh community here promotes the idea of "being" rather than "doing." which is a relief, because otherwise i would be overwhelmed by all the things i'm not doing... only after we allow ourselves to be can we catch the vision and strength to be people who do. i love this. so liberating. and then i was thinking about this idea of "being" and remembered, oh yeah, Yaweh, the name of God is "I AM" not "I DO." wow. how perfect.

so, yeah, "etre" - i want to tattoo this on my ankle. i'm always thinking of different things to tattoo on my ankle. for the longest time it was a bonsai tree, but then really, what does that even mean? hmm, it was actually Megan from Eagle Lake's nepal-foot-tattoo-testimony that inspired me to want to check this country out. and painting something meaningful on my feet has become even more beautiful here in nepal because the nepali culture holds the feet to be officially at all times "unclean." the hindu caste-culture believes that the upper caste of people were born from the heads of the gods, the next lower caste, from the gods' necks, and so on. they believe that the lowest caste, the untouchables, were born from the feet of the gods, which is completely offensive. ouch, these people are born under such harsh lies. so i think this makes the idea of a foot/ankle tattoo even more beautiful here, scandalously so. so, if you want to know how i'm doing, just ask what i'm currently thinking about tatooing on my ankle.

a few notes on nepal.

fascinating.
the one thing i knew about nepal when i was a kid was that their flag was the only one shaped differently from every other country's flag.
ok, that's cool.
i get here and i find out here in nepal it's the year 2063.
interesting, i've heard of other countries having different calendars.
and today is not september 6th, in nepal it's august 21st.
sweet, i like august.
ok, this one kind of blows my mind.
in nepal right now the minute hand is at 48 past the hour.
every where else in the world it's 33 past the hour.
bizare, why is nepal fifteen minutes off?
in nepal when you are born you are considered to be one year old.
so i know a kid celebrating his 11th birthday tomorrow,
but in america we would say he's turning 10.
hmm.

nepali word of the week = jilli-milli, which means "to twinkle"
the little girl in my host family the other day
said that the sequins on my shirt were twinkling
and i pointed and said that her eyes were jilli-milli.

hmm.

ok, well, funny that i chose to put that last post up because well, like i said i was searching for a creative way to break the ice with my neighbors. i thought about praying about it and thought about asking others to do the same, but i never really did. and as i was thinking about ideas the other day, i was thinking maybe a game of cards or i could borrow a guitar. then the other night i stopped by my room to find this huge, sick spider on my wall. i went into emergency mode and ran out into the hall. i quickly introduced myself to the guys that hang out in the dark hallway, explained my situation in English slash body language and before i knew it my room was full of guys trying to catch this spider (note, i had asked them to kill it but whatever). so one of them caught it and threw it over the balcony. it was all pretty exciting and kind of embarassing, but at least i feel pretty cool with the neighbors now. they're all nice, young arachnophiles just wanting to help.

johnny cash and namaskahr

my friend Brook told me the funniest story yesterday. well, i was telling her how it was kind of wierd, most of my floor mates in the building are young men. here in this culture men and women don't really interact unless they're married. and so she told me about when she and maggie were living together when they first moved here. everyone in their building was from India and they didn't speak any Nepali. all of their neighbors would pound on their door late at night after they were in bed and they wouldn't stop until someone answered the door. and when brook and maggie opened the door there were 10 or so Indian guys and one Indian girl just standing there, staring at them. they didn't say anything, only standing and staring. to break the awkwardness maggie grabbed her guitar and started playing johnny cash songs. they liked that. they smiled. maggie & brook only knew two Hindi words, "chai" and "namaskahr." so she strummed the guitar, hummed a little tune and sang the word chai then namaskahr, and so on. only two little words. but they loved it they were smiling and nodding their heads and repeating the two words to the melody.

so, i feel like there is always a common ground. somehow we all have something in common. with some people it's easy to find this common ground, with others we have to be more creative.

help me find this common ground.
even if it means making a fool of myself.
with the neighbors.
with our friends on the street.
even if it means more white rice.

my friend ben.

visit ben's website.
he's the other half of the servant team.
he's very informative.
and very technological.

namaste.

ajaa mero janmadin ho.
that's nepali for "today's my birthday."
i am 25 today.
i know it's not the 28th yet in america,
but whatever.
don't worry, i'm not sad about
the numbers getting bigger.
i'm not scared.
i'm only thankful.
i'm only amazed.
and there is only joy.
i'm not going skydiving
and i'm not dying my hair.
this morning i'm having banana pancakes
and a cup of Nepali tea (basically chai)
with my new friends here.
then we're going to visit a leper colony
on the outskirts of the city
and the home that Mother Teresa
started here for the dying.
wow.
it's raining outside.
pretty much always assume
that it's raining here.
my feet are really dirty.
i tried bathing in the little bucket
in my room this morning.
it was kind of complicated.
sometimes you just have to laugh.
yeah, God is good.
it is good to be here.
my cup runneth over.
namaste.

today

tonight i walked home in the rain
and got completely soaked.
i had a cup of chai with
a shopkeeper and his friend.
earlier i learned how to play this
Nepali boardgame with tigers and goats.
we passed a man on the street.
and he wanted us to pay him
because he was carrying a snake.
i would never give someone money
just because they were holding a snake.
we took Saroj to the dentist today to get
two teeth pulled - Saroj has been living on
the streets using drugs most of his life
and has been clean now for several months.
i went to language class and tried not
to laugh at Ben when he mispronounced things.
i tried not to.
today i learned how to tear my bread and dip
with one hand.
i almost bought a bag today.
i had hummous for dinner.
i chatted with a dealer for a while
on the street while i was waiting for Ben.
and i bought a sandwhich for two little boys.
i almost bought hand-made paper today from
a guy who was helping me with my Nepali.
i told him when i did buy paper
i'd buy from him.
my friend asked if i was going
to buy an umbrella tomorrow.
and i said i'd think about it.
i walked home in the rain tonight
and got completely soaked.

the monkey temple.

yeah, so here i am in kathmandu. i admit i was a bit hesitant about hiking up to the monkey temple because i still haven't gotten my rabies shot and this friend of Brooke's was definitely bitten by an infected monkey the other day. but Brook assured me I'd be ok as long as i wasn't waving peanuts around in my hands or something. so we explored around up top and had a nice, long walk around the bottom of the hill. we talked about the irony of having this temple be significant to both Hindus and Bhudists. and then i saw a fruit stand and i had to buy some bananas because i'd been wanting to try some local produce. i love bananas. after one bite, out of the corner of my eye, i noticed two large monkeys running towards me as i was waving my bananas around in my hands. it's funny how quickly we forgot about the risky situation we were in, strolling through the monkeys' territory. i had a moment of local bliss in my mouth and then we were throwing the bananas in the air and running in the opposite direction. kind of scared, but mainly laughing.

LAX

hmm, you love it, you hate it
why do you keep coming back for more?

i've had so many good times in this city.
but really i hate it.
hmm, i don't use that word much.
i don't know, i guess the beauty is
that my friends must be that incredible
because i keep coming back.
there's beauty in sacrifice.
and sometimes it's nice to wade in the water
even if it's dirty and even if you hate it.
there's beauty in the breakdown.

night train to kathmandu.

I think Im going to katmandu.
Thats really, really where Im going to.
If I ever get out of here,
Thats what Im gonna do.
K-k-k-k-k-k katmandu.
I think thats really where Im going to.
If I ever get out of here,
Im going to katmandu.

I got no kick against the west coast.
Warner brothers are such good hosts.
I raise my whiskey glass and give them a toast.
Im sure they know its true.
I got no rap against the southern states.
Every time Ive been there its been great.
But now Im leaving and I cant be late
And to myself be true.

Thats why Im going to katmandu.
Up to the mountains where Im going to.
And if I ever get out of here,
Thats what Im gonna do.
K-k-k-k-k-k katmandu.
Thats really, really where Im going to.
If I ever get out of here,
Im going to katmandu.

Ive got no quarrel with the midwest.
The folks out there have given me their best.
Ive lived there all my life; Ive been their guest.
I sure have loved it, too.
Im tired of looking at the tv news.
Im tired of driving hard and paying dues
I figure, baby, Ive got nothing to lose.
Im tired of being blue.

Thats why Im going to katmandu.
Up to the mountains where Im going to.
If I ever get out of here,
Thats what Im gonna do.
K-k-k-k-k-k katmandu.
Take me, baby, cause Im going with you.
If I ever get out of here,
Im going to katmandu.

I aint got nothin gainst the east coast.
You want some people where they got the most!
And new york citys like a friendly ghost;
You seem to pass right through.
I know Im gonna miss the usa.
I guess Ill miss it every single day.
But no one loves me here anyway!
I know my plane is due.

The one thats going to katmandu.
Up to the mountains where Im going to.
If I ever get out of here,
Thats what Im gonna do.

K-k-k-k-k-k katmandu.
Really, really, really, going to.
If I ever get out of here,
If I ever get out of here,
If I ever get out of here,
Im going to katmandu.

~thank you, Bob Seger

it was rich.

ahh, sweet day camp... today was one of those days where joy and sorrow were so mixed together that it's hard to describe the day using either word. at one point i thought, --wow, this is so terrible, my job is so hard and unavoidably stressful.--- and then thirty minutes later tears of gratefulness rolled down my face as i was praying for this "bad kid" who i thought i didn't like but turns out i have really grown to love him. joy is hidden in sorrow and sorrow in joy. if we try to avoid hard times at all costs, we may never taste true joy. Nouwen says that joy and sorrow are our spiritual parents, we need both to grow. i grew a bit today. it was painful and it was good. let's just say it was rich.

gloriously wasteful.

"O, Lord, art thou gloriously wasteful." ~ George McDonald

a couple of weeks ago i was on a quick road trip to Buena Vista with my new friends, Ashley and Ashley. The valley that we drove through on the way to B V never ceases to amaze me. It's one of my favorite mountain ranges on earth, the collegiate peaks and the landscape never stops speaking to me. but when we were driving away from BV we saw the most incredible sunset. and i was just thinking that it seems so harsh that sunsets are so temporal, they last only for a bit and then they're gone. and what if there were people in their houses just at that time that weren't even watching. they didn't even know and it was happening right outside their windows and it would be gone by the time we could tell them. so fleeting. so beautiful. gloriously wasteful. my friend Ashley said some things weren't meant to last forever, we need to learn to let go. the only time the infinite meets the finite is in this present moment. it's so precious. like a sunset.

let it be

let the beauty you love be what you do. -Rumi.

wow. how often these two are divided - what i love and what i do or at least what i think about doing someday. God, give me the courage to do what i love. whatever the cost.
i will sacrifice my status.
though it was never much.
leave me a vagabond.
leave me outside.
but God my God
leave me love.

solidarity.

the word for this past weekend is "solidarity".

"a union of purpose."
"a fellowship of responsibilities and interests."

i didn't know the guy sleeping at my feet.
but that's ok. he didn't know me.
and i don't know the children.
but i know they are people.
i know they have names.
i know they have faces.
i know they are part of humanity
and i am nothing without them.

this church.

i was reminded of this quote by something my friend, lic, said...

i love this church, this living, pulsing, sinning People of God, with a crucifying passion. Why? For all the Christian hate, i experience here a community of love. For all the institutional idiocy, i find here a tradition of reason. For all the individual repression, i breathe here an air of freedom. For all the fear of sex, i discover here the redemption of my body. in an age so inhuman, i touch here tears of compassion. in a world so grim and humorless i share here rich joy and earthy laughter. in the midst of death, i hear an incomparable stress on life. For all the apparent absence of God, i sense here the real presence of Christ.

~ Walter Burkhardt

i love the last line.

the transcendnce of things

hmm, i met this man at the coffee shop with a fascinating mind. in
trying to find the root of my mysterious attraction to languages he
started in on this grand metaphor of the transcendent quality of
music. he said the magic of a piece of music is not in the note
itself, but rather it's what happens inbetween the notes. yeah,
so, a brilliant musician is brilliant not for what he plays but for
what he doesn't play... he never really finished the metaphor
or the comparison, but i guess what he was getting at was
that both language and music are in this one sense very
mathmatical and formulaic, but really they are mostly
this abstract, unfathomable interaction of ideas. so,
we can learn our scales and memorize our
grammatical structures. but we're really
not touching the essence of these
things. their beauty is
transcendent.
may i speak
less. and
strum
less.
more.

the perks of being a wallflower

sometimes it's nice
it's nice to step back
it's nice to watch from a distance
you notice more that way
you know - can't see the forest and all
sometimes you don't hear the quiet people if you're talking yourself
sometimes you catch people laughing about something in their head
about something inside
it's relaxing
it's a relief
you learn a lot
and you get to appreciate
it's nice, you know, sometimes

you remind me of home...

so, here's the deal. i've heard so many people lately saying that so-and-so reminded them of so-and-so. someone will ask me, "who does he/she remind you of?" ... i have no idea! they don't remind me of anyone. and i started thinking and i don't think i've ever had that thought. i scrolled through all these random people in my life ... and no one reminded me of anyone else...

my teabag

tonight said,
"there is nothing that keeps its youth, so far as i know, but a tree and truth." ~ Oliver Wendell holmes Jr.

hmm, i guess a tree keeps its' youth because it always has new leaves or because its' rings are hidden on the inside, i dunno. i just like that this deep, meaningful quote mentioned a tree. i like trees.

my friend's teabag said, "no man is an island, entire of itself." i love john donne, thank you, celestial seasonings.

not that there was ever much threat, but...

i've decided i want to be one of those people who works to live instead of one who lives to work. or maybe there's more, yeah, i want to live at work and work so that after work i can continue living.

i was talking with this one customer at the coffee shop. he has one leg and his name is scott. scott bike races internationally. he really likes holland. he says that the people there work so that they can live - where as most of america lives so that they can work. yeah, great insight, thanks for sharing, scott.

for the children

if anyone is in the Springs tomorrow you should come by the Plant at the Glen at 6 pm for a viewing of the documentary, Invisible Children. it started out with three dudes and a video camera in Uganda. now these war torn children are being heard, they are being given hope through education provided by people who care, people who know their names and people who love them.

don't you love things you can believe in?

.living out of the center.

"Living out of the center enables us to blend for a moment into a greater background than our own fears, to merely be still and to know that God is God. It means that i don't figure out, i don't analyze. i simply lose myself in the experience of just being alive, of being in a community of believers, simply knowing that it's good to be there, even if i don't know where "there" is or why it's good. An inner stillness assures me that it is enough right now to be centered, to be in Christ Jesus, and that gratefulness is both the heart of living and the heart of prayer. "

~ Brennan Manning, from The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus - super well said, Brennan.

i have a friend who does not live out of her center. sometimes i just want to take her and yell, "be free." God did not set us free to become slaves again to our pasts, to our failures, or to other peoples' failures, no, it is for freedom that Christ set us free!

riding downhill.

when you're riding a bike downhill in the dark it's almost like you're floating. you're not even really there... you could be anywhere really. tonight i was in italy. i was riding down the hill overlooking Florence near Piazza Michaelangelo. all the cars that passed below were of course mostly Fiats, Ferraris, Peugots... it was summertime because it's always summer in Italy. it felt a bit foreign, but definitely beautiful and breathtaking and, well... airy.

.where i am.

wow, oh, wow, man, i'm just so thankful for the girls in my bible study. it's just so beautiful sharing our lives... we ended tonight with this beautiful prayer that is so rich and real, i have to share...

O Thou Creator of all things that are, I lift up my heart in gratitude to Thee for this day's happiness:
for the mere joy of living:
for all the sights and sounds around me:
for the sweet peace of the country and the pleasant bustle of the town:
for all things bright and beautiful and gay:
for friendship and good company:
for work to perform and the skill and strength to perform it:
for a time to play when the day's work was done, and for health and a glad heart to enjoy it.
...
Preserve me by Thy grace, good Lord, from so losing myself in the joys of earth that i may have no longing left for the purer joys of heaven. Let not the happiness of this day become a snare to my too worldly heart. And if, instead of happiness, i have to-day suffered any disappointment or defeat, if there has been any sorrow where i had hoped for joy, or sickness where i had looked for health, give me grace to accept it from Thy hand as a loving reminder that this is not my home.

I thank Thee, O Lord, that Thou has so set eternity within my heart that no earthly thing can ever satisfy me wholly. I thank Thee that every present joy is so mixed with sadness and unrest as to lead my mind upwards to the contemplation of a more perfect blessedness. And above all I thank Thee for the sure hope and promise of an endless life which Thou hast given me in the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen.


i woke up this morning and my prayer was, "God, help me to be where i am... today. help me to embrace and love the people around me today." i have so many dreams and ideas and i love thinking of possibilities and the future... that's it's sometimes hard for me to focus on the now. and then God in His faithfulness completely soaks me in the now and the pure beauty of living and well, living among friends.

the grizzly maze

hmm, this is one of those things i just can't shake from my mind. i watched the most fascinating documentary this weekend, the Grizzly Man. who would've thought... super fascinating. this everyday psycho, nature/film-guy from Florida, Timothy Treadwell, documents his experiences living in the wild "protecting" grizzly bears in Alaska. super fascinating look into this guy's world. he kept talking about the "human world" as being this far away, distant place... i was super captivated by a lot of the footage... but the truth is i often forgot what his overall point or message was, and simply lost myself in his psychological idiosyncrasies in conjunction with the breath-taking Alaskan landscape. the contrast of this man's unhealthy coping mechanisms in the distant human world with the beautiful, pristine nature surrounding him created an unintended brilliance about the film.

my initial reaction was, "man, this guy is crazy." this dude escaped from the human world to the grizzly world, which is pretty extreme, dangerous, etc... but really we all have these places where we retreat to for various reasons. we have the political world, the entertainment world, the academic world, the work world... but what about the human world? sure, it can be painful, it can be disappointing, but it is also beautiful and rich and it is also real... so, yeah, watch this movie, vote in the next election, do your homework, go to work, make that film, paint that picture, but don't erase the people, don't forget the human world.

yeah... i think more people should make documentaries.

yeah, like the country.

yeah, so, last night, random drunk girl wanders up to our table and introduces herself.

i say, "hi, i'm molly."
she says, "paula?"
i say, "no, molly."
she says, "molly, like the country?"
i say, "yeah, like the country."

no one's ever asked me that.
pretty sweet.
you know what else is sweet?
... javatinis...

yes, please.

somewhere i have never travelled

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

-- thank you e. e. cummings.

i love substituting.

so yeah, today was my first day substituting... and by "substituting" i mean -- they never called me so i got to do whatever i wanted and had such an excellent day!! i love substituting... (i don't usually use names, but names are key today) woke up to a little death cab on Allison's alarm clock, went back to sleep. had a nice chat on the phone with Natalie, really inspired me. strolled over to the castle, such a beautiful day! tried to talk to Derek, he was busy. talked to Lauren instead, very nice. Clint and J-Sly stopped by, good to see them. Tasha and Renell wandered up, quality conversation, quality girls. had excellent time with Meg over a sandwich i couldn't eat and a great chat with Kyra without planning on it, very comforting. Sheryle came by and we went for a little walk ourselves. ran into Hannah on the way, always a pleasure. got back to Aspen, started making fruit and nut bars, mmm, mmm. Renea called and we went to Whole Foods, my favorite! so good to see Renae. then we went to REI and... now Renea and i have matching stuff, yea! finished making fruit and nut bars. said goodbye to Lauren. wrote Anna a note. Adam came by to borrow 4 cups of flour, no problem, Adam. snacked with Amber in kichenette, always nice. looked at photos of Sheri and Andrew, interesting. listened to Carleen's story of lost love, thanks for sharing. chatted with Allison, Camille, John, Jane, and James cellularly. wow, what a beautiful day. what beautiful names. it's funny -- i thought i was going to be "away" today, but i didn't get called, so then every experience/encounter seemed like a gift, every sight, every scent, every person, every name.

deaf or not

the other day at the coffee shop three older customers were fighting in sign language over who was going to pay for the drinks. it was somehow reasuring to me. this warm surge of "togetherness" rushed over me. i am always focusing on our differences - some people are blind, others aren't, some people are deaf, others aren't, some people are smart or straight-laced or foreign, etc... but really in the end, we all still want to pay for the bill or not pay for the bill. we are all one people. das Volk... der Mensch.

acupuncturists rule.

as my friend's completely unreligious yet gifted acupuncturist says, "let go and let God." i love ambiguous spiritual advice. thanks Bing Lee.

sentimental journey

hmm, this was one of my favorite reads in college lit classes. most people probably hate this book because Sterne would agonize and rave for pages about this five second quasi-encounter with some beautiful stranger he brushed shoulders with along the way. i thought it was beautiful how he would read into everything and analyze potentials and possibilities. maybe i liked the book because i was traveling myself when i read it and had been alone for several days, stuck in Belguim without a friend or a place to stay :-). and maybe this lone traveler just missed meaningful human interactions so he would fantasize and create all these dramatic, fantastical scenarios to appease his lonliness. hmm, well, i used to think of myself as pretty sentimental... and then yesterday, my brilliant friend, Buechner, was talking about the sentimental tear that often falls down the cheek at weddings. sometimes these tears are good, they are legitimate responses to the mystery of human love to the transience of things, etc... However, Buechner says to be sentimental like this is often less a reaction to the actual thing happening and more a reaction to our reaction of the thing happening. what we're really crying about is "the pathos of our own tear" - ouch. he says, "it is all innocent enough, surely, except that it keeps us just one step further than we already are, and God knows that's far enough, from the reality of what is going on outside our own skins; and the reality of what is going on outside our own skins is the reality of other people with all their dreams and regrets, their happiness, the pathos not of ourselves for once but of them."

hmm, God, help me to think outside my own skin...