Honest to Goodness.

I just did something I've never done before.
It wasn't jumping off a cliff, trying some exotic food or kissing a stranger-I went to see a movie by myself.

In my defence I saw Eat, Pray, Love based on the Elizabeth Gilbert novel [that is currently plastering the shelves of every bookstore in America]. If you're going to see a movie alone it might as well be this one. I mean, she travels for a year to find herself, her life, her faith. I actually listened to the book on tape last fall and for some reason it just felt right to see it by myself. A kind of symbolic thing.

I'm reading a book right now called Traveling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor. It's a mother and daughter writing about a trip they take to Greece and then after, and then Paris. The daughter has just graduated college and is trying to find her purpose while the mother is about to turn fifty and is trying to find her new purpose. After finding myself in tears in the middle of the bookstore while reading the jacket, I bought it for my Mom for Christmas. Their writing is full of vivid description of settings, honest introspection and a consistent presence of symbols. Which is something I love and find myself wanting so much as I read their words. Both buy trinkets and save postcards that are deeply meaningful for one reason or another. And so, loner-movie night suffices as a metaphor.

Despite the whimsical desire to turn this whole thing into a "symbolic" gesture, having a cinematic experience by yourself is just plain pathetic. It's on par with dining alone. Which I have also done, actually. And now that I've admitted to both of these offenses along with listening to books on tape, I have reached an all time low.
Self-mockery aside, let's be honest, we have pity on those we see eating alone. It just doesn't seem right. But, speaking from experience [as we now all know], it's really not as tragic as it may appear. I remember thoroughly enjoying myself eating out alone. I wrote an entry about it last summer come to think of it. And I enjoyed myself tonight too.

It was a fairly good movie. As long as we are on a role of confession, I must admit I really like Julia Roberts. The film also depicted scenes of exotic places and adventures, which I love. The book is always better of course, [even if it is on tape] but the movie held its own. I think however, that the enjoyment reached beyond just a decent story. It was almost an act of defiance...although this doesn't quite capture it. Maybe "coming to terms" would be a better fit. Satisfying.

My single status has become more poignant recently. Mostly due to the fact that it feels like everyone in my life comes in a two-pack. I know this is most likely a grossly inaccurate assessment, but it's like when you buy a new car and suddenly everyone on the road has the same model. I actually made a verbal list of my closest girlfriends who weren't romantically engaged in one form or another. I honestly counted three. Now again, I may have missed a few because higher numbers would make this a mute point and who really wants to gather evidence disproving their hypothesis? Everyone [seemingly] has someone.

But I took a stand against this hypothesis in the form of a trip to the movies totally alone. If I'm honest with myself, I look forward to the day where I no longer question "our" rightness. But there's another honest part of me that is completely content with being in solitude season. I like being able to venture off without a sidekick and honest to goodness enjoy myself, by myself.

Cardboard Flame.

Where to begin?
I desperately want to write about the last six weeks of my life. It is a daunting task. Daunting because there is so much to tell and I want it to accurately portray the experience. And so I ask, where to begin? I have already once tried to start where one would think would be appropriate, that being the beginning. But to no avail. And so I believe I will begin with the present and hopefully fill in some of the blank spaces as time unwraps the delights of these past weeks.

My soul is never more awake than when it is engulfed in creation and community. And my spirit is never so quickly snuffed as by familiarity and comfort. I came upon this realization after a few months in California, this deadening of fervor with time, and it is just as infuriating now as it was then. [See Zealous]

Returning again this summer to the comforts and luxuries of home after a month of living a stripped life, I find myself desperately clawing at the intensity, the intentionality and the peace I found in the woods of Maine, traveling alongside another crazy twenty-something and a group of students I now call friends. For a month we live in tents, eating elbow pasta, tortillas filled with peanut butter, and the dreaded chewy bar. Forsaking the brush, abstaining from mirrors and most general hygiene practices bring about a certain kind freedom, as well as a certain kind of odor. It's the bare essentials, living off of what we can carry in our backs. It's the bare essentials of relationships too. Texting is obsolete, there are no movies, no computers, not even a watch to keep track of the time. You cannot avoid relationships and as one of the kids so perfectly said it, "There is no where to hide". Another thing that cannot be hidden, when stripped of all that is noisy and neon, is the majesty of God. Views of miles and miles of mountains and trees, sunsets and sunrises, eagles and moose, wind and rain, flowers and stones, cannot help but shout the Artist's beauty.

I was writing a letter to my friend last night, and one thing I love about letters, is that they are like a vault. I write things I will most likely never see again. But as I was processing with the mighty, mighty pen, I wrote something I wanted to share.

"I want them to LOVE Jesus. Not just create successful, 'good' lives. Rich or poor. Artsy or Athletic. Book smart or street smart. Everybody needs more Jesus. I need more. I get so frustrated with the way that my ability to closely resemble Christ diminishes with familiarity... or for some reason I haven't quite grasped yet. Being with the kids makes me want to live better because I want to practice what I preach. It's real and I want them to see that. This desire for consistency coupled with constantly being in God's unaltered creation, away from distraction of poplar culture, makes it easier. It's easier for my thoughts and actions to breathe whispers of God's goodness."

More than last year at this time, I am noticing this slow slippage into the old, and I'm trying to fight it tooth and nail. It's annoyingly difficult. I don't want this fire to diminish into coals. Coals are good for roasting marshmallows, sure. But I want to burn something. I want to be like that huge cardboard fire we all had to take a step back from.

I now would like to write a list of ways to keep the fire raging. Consuming everything around it until it too burns with a white-hot flame.

Unfortunately there is no bullet list. Annoying point number two. Spending time reading the Words in columns and writing them on the tablet of my heart might be a start. ["Stop rhyming I mean it!"..."Anybody want a peanut?"...Wow it's getting late...] Prayer and quiet is always welcome. Writing of course needs to happen as well as taking moments to notice the leaves or the clouds moving across the sky.

The hardest thing to replicate are the relationships and the community.
Al.
Roon.
Juje.
Sarah.
Cars.
Kat.
Will.
Jared.
Luke.
Paul.
Hannah.
Keith.
Kortus.
Danny.
Jake.
Sammy.
Milan.
Justin.
Claire.
Caroline.
Dev.
Thanks for helping me live more like Jesus.
For this, I am forever grateful.

Skype equals love.

Most of the time I like to think of myself as someone who isn't a big fan of technology. [As I sit here writing a blog on a laptop...what a hypocrite...] "Technology is lame" is the phrase I believe my brother uses against me on a regular basis. I take the 'holier-than-thou' approach to the newest and fastest because I feel like it's so often a distraction from real relationships and experiences. Most of this coming from the ridiculous amount of control facebook has over me. What starts out as an innocent message to a dear friend turns into an hour long photo scanning sesh where I end up looking at photos of people I don't even know! [Please, can anyone feel me on this?] And don't even get me started with iPhones. If I ever try to get one just kick me in the shins. Let's just hope this doesn't turn into a repeat of the skinny jeans incident or I'll end up with bruised shins and few tangible relationships...yikkes.

But let us set this hostility aside for a moment. Tonight, I sat and talked with my redwoods roommate and dear friend Christa, who is now on a new adventure in Washington. She sat outside a coffee shop in the sunshine, wearing a blue tee and a huge headband. Her big green eyes practically popping out as she told me about exciting things of late. After swapping stories-silly and serious-we ended in prayer. Over skype. I was so encouraged by this 'virtual date', as a passerby so named it. Encouraged by our conversation. Strengthened by her courage to pray for me or rather talk to her computer, outside a busy coffee shop in the name of Jesus. Love it.

While I stubbornly hold onto the fact that technology can often cause a rift in relationships, I am now a believer in the power of Skype. Or perhaps the ability of God to encourage me through mediums such as these, however 'lame' they may be.

[Also, a shout-out to Rori Jean. A current resident of Boulder, CO with whom I also recently 'skyp-ed'. (can it be used as a verb?) This conversation also brought much joy to my soul and provided me with yet another reason to love the internet, built in video cameras, speakers, and free programs to chat with people in different time-zones. Love you Rur!]

[Okay. I just thought of Kari too. I miss you Kari. Skype date sometime soon?]