The rain was falling steadily as I trudged up the muddy hill. Tucking my chin into my chest I pressed myself into the rushing wind as it whistled past me. The fog hung among the towering trees. Darkness quickly approaching. With my head bent, I saw my wide, weathered, weary feet morph into a pair of chunky keens and the grey elven cloak fade into a purple hood. The familiar Lord of the Rings soundtrack score played softly in my mind as I continued upward.
---------
I am on a journey indeed, but to liken it to the grueling, and grave journey of one Mr. Frodo Baggins would be an incredible overstatement. I just finished The Two Towers and feel like I'm living in Middle Earth. Here in the middle of a creation masterpiece-the redwood forest. At every turn, I am transported to a land of fantasy. I'm engulfed by the beauty of my surroundings and the hearts I'm beginning to know.
I live a blessed life. Let's take it truthful step forward to say posh and privileged. Even as I day dreamed about Frodo's quest today, I was wearing a newly purchased pair of much "needed" hiking pants. My conscience quieted by the Clearance sign above the hanger. And although I am wet, I am only on an hour long leisure hike and will soon return to a house containing dry clothes, a warm bed, and cup boards full of food. I'm not trekking across Mirkwood forest or climbing the steep stair or running for my life in Sierra Leone. I have been given so much, and honestly, most days it just doesn't seem fair.
The reference to Sierra Leone comes from Ishmael Beah's book A Long Way Gone which I just started today. [thank you 2010 reading list] I've been told it is a heavy book. Even discouraged from reading it by a friendly bookstore clerk in the Mission in San Francisco. Everyone has been telling the truth. I cannot begin to wrap my mind, so soaked in safety, comfort and fortune, around the experiences of this man. And there are so many others like him. So many stories of young eyes seeing violence. Of being torn from family. Stories of empty bellies, evil and brokenness. And what am I doing about this? I'm hiking in the woods, wearing upwards of two hundred dollars on my back. It's something that burns deep within me. I feel nauseous as I write this, letting my mind sit in this feeling of frustration and contradiction. My journey is not trying to save middle earth or running from rebels with guns. The biggest journey I'm on is reconciling the life I've been given and the great disparity between it and so many other's lives in the world. But wait, there should be no harmony achieved in comparing my undeserved privilege to the rest of the world. I should be beside myself, angered to action. Praise be to God that I am unnerved when reading accounts of injustice.
But what about this bit about action. What action am I taking?
Where is the biggest need God. Send me there.
This has been the question for a few years now. And as I slowly settle my bubbling heart, I'm reminded that there is hurt all around me. This week there have been several instances striking very close to home, reminding me of this. And sometimes it still seems so small in comparison to the atrocities experienced all over the world. Miniscule compared to the current situation of those in Haiti. And yet it's real here too. For some unexplainable, honestly somewhat annoying reason, I was born into privilege and plenty. So what can I do from here? What is my role in the redwoods, working with school children?
While asking these questions, part of a verse kept coming to mind. "One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that you, O God, are strong, and that you, O Lord, are loving."
You are strong and loving God. Give me your strength and your love to do what seemingly little I can and please, I beg of you, take care of the rest.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Hunger and Thirst.
I took a walk in the rain a few days ago. I will need to learn to love the rain here. Breathing heavily, I climbed up the steep dirt path, water beading off my new purple raincoat, dripping from high branches, while pondering my new dwelling. My new situation. I prayed and my mind wandered. Bits of passages, memorized in days of yore, made their way out of the vault and into the front of my mind.
Take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ. Be still and know that I am God. Be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry. Do everything without complaining or arguing. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit but instead consider others better than yourselves.
I am trying to find the words to describe the way these words tasted as they fell upon my tongue again. They made me feel hungry. A hunger I had forgotten I had. A desire to indulge in more. The more bits that came up the more I wanted to flood forth. And just like that a prayer is answered. A prayer to hunger and thirst for righteousness. To crave spiritual milk. To seek and to find.
Take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ. Be still and know that I am God. Be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry. Do everything without complaining or arguing. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit but instead consider others better than yourselves.
I am trying to find the words to describe the way these words tasted as they fell upon my tongue again. They made me feel hungry. A hunger I had forgotten I had. A desire to indulge in more. The more bits that came up the more I wanted to flood forth. And just like that a prayer is answered. A prayer to hunger and thirst for righteousness. To crave spiritual milk. To seek and to find.
How can a young man keep his way pure?
By living according to your word.
I seek you with all my heart;
do not let me stray from your commands.
I have hidden your word in my heart
that I might not sin against you.
Praise be to you, O LORD;
teach me your decrees.
With my lips I recount
all the laws that come from your mouth.
I rejoice in following your statutes
as one rejoices in great riches.
I meditate on your precepts
and consider your ways.
I delight in your decrees;
I will not neglect your word.
psalm 119:9-16
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Things learned while in the Bay Area.
If the voice you use to talk to yourself with takes on a french accent you have been alone with your thoughts for too long and are most likely going crazy.
I like buses and I love subways. Except I am perpetually nervous about missing my stop.
I have the uncanny ability to get turned around even with a map in my hand.
If up to me, I will never stay in a hotel again. I will frequent hostels, getting little sleep but much satisfaction.
Taqueria Cancun on Mission between 18th and 19th serves the best vegetarian burrito I have ever eaten. And I've eaten a lot of burritos in my day, trust me.
I smile easily. Especially if I'm tuned into what's going on around me. The kids begging for gelato and the old asian couple doing synchronized arm exercises while on their walk, even just the sun glinting off the steeples of a church, I smile like a fool.
There would be no need to insert "hill routines" into your running regimen in San Francisco. You'll be all set whatever route you take.
Keen shoes can handle pounding the pavement. My right leg, specifically knee and back of ankle, does not handle it quite as well.
I'm terrible at decision making when I'm tired.
I'm drawn like a magnet to bookstores. It doesn't matter where I'm at, they suck me in. City Lights has a third floor poetry and beat literature section with rocking chair labeled "The Poet's Chair" and for a bit I was a The Poet.
You can use the same bus ticket for two days. I think the bus drivers hate their jobs and could care less whether or not you have a ticket.
The North Beach is one of my favorite places. There are cute old italian men roaming the streets, little italian flags painted around the light poles on the diagonal, slightly slopping street, tons of trattorias, canolis and gelatto. And a book store. See above.
I grew up in an incredibly homogenous area. Sadly, I have rarely, if ever, been a minority until this weekend. I think it's something I need to experience more often.
Fisherman's Warf is most beautiful as the sun is setting. Leaning over the rail looking out at the ocean at this particular time is also a great place to meet up with God.
I love cities. For exploring. Not for living. At least not as big as San Francisco. And by the way, they call it "The City" not San Fran, according to Justin the front desk guy at Fort Mason Hostel. Like it's the only city, a bit pretentious no?
I genuinely love traveling alone. There is a freedom that you cannot obtain while traveling with others. I can get lost and nobody cares. I can wander aimlessly in and out of random stores, and wander right back out. I can stop and take pictures at random. I can dart across streets haphazardly.
About the only thing it's missing is being able to share all of these little morsels of joy with someone. With you. And so that's why I write. Or at least that's the conclusion I came to while spending the last two days alone. Many of my conclusions and realizations, my observations and discoveries, happen when I'm flying solo. But as quoted from Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, "Happiness is only real when shared". So this is me making these delights real.
Or maybe just an attempt at securing my memories because otherwise the will be lost in the sea of my forgetfulness. Probably both.
I like buses and I love subways. Except I am perpetually nervous about missing my stop.
I have the uncanny ability to get turned around even with a map in my hand.
If up to me, I will never stay in a hotel again. I will frequent hostels, getting little sleep but much satisfaction.
Taqueria Cancun on Mission between 18th and 19th serves the best vegetarian burrito I have ever eaten. And I've eaten a lot of burritos in my day, trust me.
I smile easily. Especially if I'm tuned into what's going on around me. The kids begging for gelato and the old asian couple doing synchronized arm exercises while on their walk, even just the sun glinting off the steeples of a church, I smile like a fool.
There would be no need to insert "hill routines" into your running regimen in San Francisco. You'll be all set whatever route you take.
Keen shoes can handle pounding the pavement. My right leg, specifically knee and back of ankle, does not handle it quite as well.
I'm terrible at decision making when I'm tired.
I'm drawn like a magnet to bookstores. It doesn't matter where I'm at, they suck me in. City Lights has a third floor poetry and beat literature section with rocking chair labeled "The Poet's Chair" and for a bit I was a The Poet.
You can use the same bus ticket for two days. I think the bus drivers hate their jobs and could care less whether or not you have a ticket.
The North Beach is one of my favorite places. There are cute old italian men roaming the streets, little italian flags painted around the light poles on the diagonal, slightly slopping street, tons of trattorias, canolis and gelatto. And a book store. See above.
I grew up in an incredibly homogenous area. Sadly, I have rarely, if ever, been a minority until this weekend. I think it's something I need to experience more often.
Fisherman's Warf is most beautiful as the sun is setting. Leaning over the rail looking out at the ocean at this particular time is also a great place to meet up with God.
I love cities. For exploring. Not for living. At least not as big as San Francisco. And by the way, they call it "The City" not San Fran, according to Justin the front desk guy at Fort Mason Hostel. Like it's the only city, a bit pretentious no?
I genuinely love traveling alone. There is a freedom that you cannot obtain while traveling with others. I can get lost and nobody cares. I can wander aimlessly in and out of random stores, and wander right back out. I can stop and take pictures at random. I can dart across streets haphazardly.
About the only thing it's missing is being able to share all of these little morsels of joy with someone. With you. And so that's why I write. Or at least that's the conclusion I came to while spending the last two days alone. Many of my conclusions and realizations, my observations and discoveries, happen when I'm flying solo. But as quoted from Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, "Happiness is only real when shared". So this is me making these delights real.
Or maybe just an attempt at securing my memories because otherwise the will be lost in the sea of my forgetfulness. Probably both.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Touching Down.
Every so often, I open my eyes and find myself breathing. Like so many times before, I find myself waking up while finishing the pages of a book. Annie Dillard's An American Childhood. I'm awakened to my life. The flesh and spirit in my general vicinity. It always surprises me a bit, not realizing that I've missed it so, this eyes-open existence. It's surprising and yet so familiar.
I smile closing the book, cover in my lap. Knees aching. Skin on my arms prickling with bumps, cool and bare. The sunlight coming through the small hole in the plane splashing, pressing itself into my face. The tear ducts under my closed lids threatening to explode sending salty rivulets down my cheeks. These almost tears are not tears of sadness. But would be rivers of comfort and relief. Like waking up to a soft breeze and sunlight blowing through your window on a late spring morning.
I delight in the old man's fabulous tortoise shell glasses in the seat in front of me and in his companion's wonderfully wrinkled, polished fingers resting lightly on the wall beside her. I feel the hum of the bird-machine carrying me toward Denver. And revel in the large scar on the face of the reading man next to me.
We've just touched down. I've just touched down. And not a moment too soon.
I smile closing the book, cover in my lap. Knees aching. Skin on my arms prickling with bumps, cool and bare. The sunlight coming through the small hole in the plane splashing, pressing itself into my face. The tear ducts under my closed lids threatening to explode sending salty rivulets down my cheeks. These almost tears are not tears of sadness. But would be rivers of comfort and relief. Like waking up to a soft breeze and sunlight blowing through your window on a late spring morning.
I delight in the old man's fabulous tortoise shell glasses in the seat in front of me and in his companion's wonderfully wrinkled, polished fingers resting lightly on the wall beside her. I feel the hum of the bird-machine carrying me toward Denver. And revel in the large scar on the face of the reading man next to me.
We've just touched down. I've just touched down. And not a moment too soon.
Monday, January 4, 2010
A Reader's Resolution
In lieu of a resolution commemorating the beginning of a new year, I've decided to create a reading list. I just figure I'm setting myself up for success because >one: it's not an actual resolution and >two: my love of the written word will hopefully help in this goal's completion.
A Long Way Gone -Ishmael Beah
On The Road -Jack Kerouac
The Writing Life -Annie Dillard
Unspoken Sermons -George McDonald
Walden -Henry David Thoreau
A Passage To India -E.M. Forester
Return of the King -Tolkein
The Prodigal God -Tim Keller
The Pilgrim's Regress -C.S. Lewis
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years -Donald Miller
Ten books for two-thousand and ten.
I may have my work cut out for me for I will most likely be finishing other books on undocumented lists, but would also like to hear any suggestions you may have. It won't get on this list. Like I said, I'm trying to set myself up for success, not a never ending, ever expanding list. But I love good books. So I'll make a new list-Great Books from Great People. [Coming soonish to a blog near you. That is if you share with me.]
A Long Way Gone -Ishmael Beah
On The Road -Jack Kerouac
The Writing Life -Annie Dillard
Unspoken Sermons -George McDonald
Walden -Henry David Thoreau
A Passage To India -E.M. Forester
Return of the King -Tolkein
The Prodigal God -Tim Keller
The Pilgrim's Regress -C.S. Lewis
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years -Donald Miller
Ten books for two-thousand and ten.
I may have my work cut out for me for I will most likely be finishing other books on undocumented lists, but would also like to hear any suggestions you may have. It won't get on this list. Like I said, I'm trying to set myself up for success, not a never ending, ever expanding list. But I love good books. So I'll make a new list-Great Books from Great People. [Coming soonish to a blog near you. That is if you share with me.]
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