put your hands up.

I love roller coasters but I’m ready to get off this one. Quick plunges, even faster ascents, twisting corkscrews. I’m ready for something a little more tame. But that’s not happening. No way. Every day is buckling that lap belt and pulling down that suffocating harness that hurts your ears on the turns. I’m just hoping that somewhere along the track things might even out a bit, just a wee bit.

I wouldn't describe myself as an overly moody person, emotional maybe, but not a roller coaster. [If this assumption is false, please, tell me. For my sake and those around me-if I don’t even know that I’m crazy moody, we have a serious problem on our hands.] Despite my perceived "consistency" I’m currently very agitated at the emotional roller coaster I seem to be on as of late. It’s quite amazing. Frightening and bizarre really. One minute I want to crawl into my bed, lower the shades, and stay there. Forever. And the next minute I’m feeling like I could run a marathon, paint a masterpiece and save some babies while doing it.

Example one.
I just bought a hiking pack. I probably looked at a thousand packs. No joke. Making decisions for me is hard enough, throw in a bazillion options and a substantial amount of money and it’s a recipe for disaster. Buyer’s remorse up the wah-zoo. I finally decided on a Mountainsmith pack. The price was right, the aesthetics were right, fifty recycled plastic bottles were used in it’s creation, and the size was right. Well at least I thought the size was right. I was stoked when it came in. I sliced open the box and slowly lifted it out of the box. It was too small. I mean, my blue jansport seemed to be equivalent. Heck, I should have just packed a month worth of clothes into my purse. Okay, so I’m a little overdramatic. I actually had to fight back tears. It is way too small. I have no other options. I don’t have time to get another one online. And they’re expensive in the store. I don’t have any money. I’m going to end up living in a van down by the river. Eating only Ramen noodles. Again, overreacting perhaps?

Example two.
I was driving up to Pentwater after work. The sun was cutting through the pine trees, dancing on the curving pavement. Daisy May’s soft twang was lilting through the speakers. The wind coming through the open windows was giving me perfect car-with-the-windows-down-cruising hair. There were even feathers, yes feathers, swirling around inside my car. [remnants of the best bridal shower ever] And at one point a loose paper that threatened to throw itself out the window decidedly landed in the passenger door side pocket. Amazing. Things could not be more blissful. I felt euphoric. All was right with the world.

Now here’s the crazy thing. These are two separate events occurring on different days. The reality is that I’ve been vacillating between these extremes about every sixty seconds. It’s out of control. And I’ve decided to blame it on the transition. [it’s certainly not because I’m a crazy basket case, obviously]

As wise friend said with brutal honestly, “Everything we have ever known is about to change.”
Alright. Was that really necessary? It sucks, but it’s true. Things are about to change. I’ve been a student most of my cognoscente life. I don’t know what it’s going to be like not to have homework and be surrounded by hundreds of people who are sharing a similar experience at the same stage in their life.

While I’m packing up my new backpack [which by the way is much bigger than I initially anticipated] with the necessities for the next few months-I’m also packing up my memories over the past four years. As I roll up my sleeping bag, and stuff it in that impossibly small bag-I’m also rolling up relationships-which can I just say, is exponentially more difficult than even those blasted sleeping bag sacks. Looking up maps to Denver and San Diego while trying to plot a course for the next few months and years of my life. This is epic. Sure, right now I’m riding on an emotional roller coaster that is unparalleled in its scariness thus far, but it’s epic all the same. And even though I will most likely scream all the way, my hands are going to be in the air.

static cling.

Keds and scrunchy socks were standard issue at age six, along with side ponytails and patterned turtlenecks. The piece de resistance* however were the leggings. I specifically remember a purple pair, complete with black elastic stirrups that went around the bottoms of my feet-you know, just incase things got a little crazy and they started to ride up.

This fabulous article of clothing has made a comeback, most sans stirrups much to my dismay. I hated them at first. Wearing them under a short dress was cute. And then somehow things got out of hand and dresses turned into tee-shirts. Then the hundreds of girls sporting them end up looking like they should be on a jazzercise video. yikkes.
So naturally I bought a pair. [See, I do this thing where I rebel against what's popular; like ipods and texting for instance. But eventually I end up wanting it and by that time I'm too late and there is something else that's "in". I'm crazy I know.]

It was going to be a fantastic day. A spring day that felt like summer. It doesn't get any better than that. A dress was in order. But the last time I anticipated a nice day and wore a dress I froze my butt off. Solution? Leggings. They were brown and I wore them under a peach polyester dress. You may be thinking, "Polyester? Really Jen?" but it's vintage with some hand embroidery so let it go okay. Well, I left the house, looking like a hippie according to my roommate, loving life.

Except for one problem. I had a serious case of static cling. The polyester was reuniting with the leggings apparently. It was terrible. It kept sticking to my legs, making it look like I was wearing wrinkly, peach shorts. I kept tugging on it, discreetly of course, only to have it suction right back to my thigh. After a couple blocks of this I firmly told myself, "Jen. It's not going away. Stop messing with it and leave it alone." Which worked.
For two seconds.
I became even more self-conscious as I started entering the business district. All of those giant mirrors created by office buildings and the business professionals all ironed and crisp on their way to their cubicle. Nightmarish. I continued to tug and pull and the static continued to win. I kept telling myself to just let it be, but my fingers were grabbing the skirt of their own accord.
I reached the blue bridge over the river and realized I had missed my whole walk. I hadn't noticed a thing. My precious walk, wasted, and on a beautiful day no less. All because of a little static cling. All because I was worried that I looked stupid. I was uncomfortable and annoyed at a piece of fabric. I probably missed out on something really epic in the twenty minutes I spent wrestling with my skirt.

So this got me thinking...what is the static cling in my life? What distracts me? What pulls me away from what's really beautiful? From what is true. noble. right. pure. lovely. admirable. What takes my attention away from what is excellent or praiseworthy? What's distracting me from "such things"?

I know I've got more than a few, and if I had to guess you've got a peach dress clinging to your leggings too. I want to get rid of mine. I want to enjoy the walk and I don't want something as silly as a little static cling get in the way.

*[excuse my lack of proper accent usage]

if it rains.

The air was thick in my throat as I made my way up Fountain. It felt heavy, pressing down on my skin. The dense clouds hung full above, their droplets palpable. The large billows covered the sun, muting the brightness of the fresh green leaves and new blades of grass. The sticky sweet scent of the flowering trees overwhelmed my nose, reminiscent of a purple scented marker from the sets they have in grade school-the fat ones with the wide felt tips. Between the flowery perfumes a wet, dusty smell-the smell of damp spring sidewalks and worms-filter through my nose.

The evening was ominous and beautiful at the same time. Bloated and anticipatory. Foreboding and full. It felt a lot like the future.

I'm overwhelmed with excitement at what the next few pages hold.
And I also stop.
mid-shampoo.
because I'm afraid.

My heart leaps at the thought of adventure. New people. New places.
My eyes water and my heart quickens. New people. New places.

Everything could change!

Everything could change...

Bring it on. I want to smell it even though it's too strong, too flowery. I want to carry the heavy air in my lungs. I want to live life to the brim. On the edge of overflowing. Even now, as I write this my pulse is beginning to beat a little faster. The air has since cooled and it is softly brushing across my cheeks, carrying that oddly comforting dusty wet scent with it. The sun is painting the sky peach behind the big green tree in our front yard. Ha. Wow. My pulse is slowing after typing those two sentences. Just take it in Jen. Take a big drink.

The breeze will cool, bringing refreshment. The sun will peak through the heavy clouds. There is a sunset ahead. Acknowledge the manifestation of something bigger in the small moments. Turn your focus Upward, keep your feet on the ground, pray for sun. And if it rains, throw your head back and laugh.

peaches and oatmeal

Grand Valley and I had a moment yesterday.
It was sunny, and warm enough to leave my jacket behind-which is a big event when you live in West Michigan. In celebration, I decided to take my lunch outside. Peaches canned with Grandma in a warm bowl of oatmeal and cinnamon. Delish. As I sat there reminiscing I started to wonder if I would remember this. When I eat peaches and oatmeal again will it elicit warm memories of my last days at Grand Valley?

I love finals week. There are always free goodies around. This particular morning I was partaking in some FREE earl grey tea, compliments of the GV Libraries. Earl grey is one of my favorites. It kind of smells like fruit loops. I tore open the package, dropped the tea bag into my blue flowered thermos and proceeded to fill it with hot water from the water cooler. The delicious aroma of earl grey swirled up to my nose and I suddenly felt happy. Now, I couldn't place the reason for this sudden emotional response and then I realized it smelled like camp. It smelled like those very early, crisp, feet a little wet from the dewy grass, quiet, tea in hand mornings before staff huddle. Just the smell of earl grey prompted a strong emotional response, a memory of ten weeks worth of mornings. Will this happen with peaches and oatmeal?

A good friend and I had the opportunity to share what we've learned over the past four years of college at our last Young Life Club. As we were about to start, in her infinite wisdom, my beautiful friend said to me, "They aren't going to remember what we say, they'll remember who we are." Wisdom. So much wisdom.

With the tree against my back and the slightly uncomfortable mound covered with wood chips under...well...under me...I decided that this last week didn't need to be epic. I've been feeling like everything in my last two weeks needs to be huge, paramount, epic. Everything has to be the best. Every "last" experience must be forever etched into the tablet of my mind. But it doesn't work that way. These last days will be like a drawing on the shore, most likely washed away by the waves of transition. But the memories that have been created over the past four years won't fade so quickly. They are familiar paths in my heart. Well worn grooves that only time can produce. Repeated journeys; like the thousands of time I've loaded up the sound equipment, met by Java City for coffee dates, walked through the Lake Halls, studied in beloved Zumberg, and taken late night trips to Meijer because there was nothing better to do. These memories, they are deep and lasting. Solidified by time and repetition.

So instead of trying to squeeze every last drop out of this week I just decided to say, "Thank you". Thank you for the last four years. There have been days of sun and days of rain, but all added up, they have been wonderful.

Perhaps years from now, a smell reminescent of the fourth floor, Ben Harper's "Walk Away" or twisting an extension chord will bring me back to Grand Valley, back to the well worn paths. And maybe peaches and oatmeal will remind me to breathe deep. Say thank you. Rejoice in the memories and remember that it's not what I say, but who I am that they will remember.

just because it's beautiful. [written winter 08]

Following it to the ground with my eyes is hard enough.
Trying to catch it on my tongue is an entirely different feat.
It always seems that as I am about to capture it, it promptly swirls in another direction, floating gracefully just out of my reach.
With all the time I've spent walking with my tongue hanging out you'd think I'd have mastered the task but alas, I am rarely successful.
Taking my eyes from the view directly in front of my and turning it down the street, I almost exploded with laughter. The sky was in a frenzy. The Civic theatre and bustling city street providing the perfect background to a white chaos.
The perfectly irregular fluff floats and zooms, falls and swirls as the wind carries and drops it from the sky.
It is nothing short of magic.

I was riding the bus home after the first snow a few weeks ago in a joyful mood. There is something about snow, especially the first sight of it, that excites me. I began trying to dissect why this would be. Is it because the winter season brings the Holiday season as well? Do I crave the nostalgia of being a kid again with the whole family together, unwrapping gifts and sipping hot chocolate? Maybe it's all those memories of playing outside? Or maybe it's the symbolism? The way the snow makes everything look white and clean. Even the dirtiest places and shabbiest of houses look romantic with a dusting of snow. When I relayed these questions to a friend he responded, "Maybe you just like it because it's beautiful."

I'm always looking for the "deeper meaning" or the "real reason" behind things. I could probably link this line of thinking to a lot of things, like experiential learning at camp where everything really means something else, or maybe it's the fact that I'm a psychology major. [see there it is, trying to find the root of it all, i rest my case]
I like doing this. I like asking questions. It's a good thing.

But maybe with some things in life I need to remember that it's just because it's beautiful. And just because is enough.

some days you just need to walk

There's something about the wild that brings me back. Traipsing through clusters of moss and tree or standing ankle deep, toes buried in the grainy sand, welcoming the cold waves of Lake Michigan grounds me.

Tonight however, it was Grand Rapids. Grand Rapids in all it's glory that reminded me of the goodness of life. Much to my dismay the professor decided to let us out of our six to nine class early. This early adjournment allowed me to experience the last light of April first as I hopped off the Fifty.

Now, the Eberhard Center is probably one of the ugliest buildings on campus. The Zumberg Library is a close second, but tonight, Eberhard was glorious.
[jenn, it was a perfect photo op, i wish you were there with your camera...]
The long bank of windows created the most beautiful panorama I've seen in quite sometime. Brilliant shades of pink and purple painted the glass, with the clock tower situated perfectly on the reflective canvas. The blue bridge over the Grand River complimented the azure lights of the JW Marriot, columns of magenta rising up its curved glass. The small white lights on the sixth street bridge were beginning to twinkle and the high-rises in the distance were turned gold.

The green grass, yes, green grass, of Rosa Parks Circle. The glowing clusters of light falling over the tables at the GRAM Cafe. And even the mysterious fog rising from the man hole covers on Ionia brought on a feeling of euphoria. This is it. This is beautiful.

Even though my back was starting to feel the computer and textbooks in my backpack on my ascent of Fountain Street, and even though I began to feel a little lame, seeing that the curly haired kid with the cooler had now tripled the distance that was first between us when we stepped off the Fifty, I'm so glad I was able to taste GR soaked in the last of the sun's light. I'm so glad my car is still parked on College Ave. I needed to walk today.



ps. April fools! I wasn't actually dismayed that class got out early...
okay, a little lame. But I couldn't let this day go by without one prank! Even if it was one as sad as that. On another note, did anyone see the "Automated Gmail" feature today. Wow, I am gullible.

blessed.

The world is crazy. Cars driving by. People walking here and there. A women in a bright pink jacket. Students with their backpacks. Homeless men. People walking fast. People walking slow. What's going on in their life?
This morning I felt outside of it and laughed as I imagined just watching this crazy, frantic mess. Like a bunch of little cars and houses on a play mat with white broken lines on grey roads . Sometimes it all seems so trivial, when you really start to break it down. But it's good. The hail bouncing off the red bricks. A call from Scotty whose standing at the Starbucks counter 10 feet away. Excel sheet study guides and Albert Ellis and Rational Emotoive Behavior Therapy. YouTube. And Brett Dennen.


I welcome the sun,
the clouds and rain,
the wind that sweeps the sky clean
and lets the sun shine again.
this is the most magnificent life has ever been.
here is heaven and earth
and the brilliant sky in between.

blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive.
blessed is this life
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive

I dwell in the darkness
I let in the light
I sleep in the afternoon
and become the noise in the night
I trespass in temptation
suffered in sacrifice
but I awake each day with a new sunrise

blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive
blessed is this life, oh
and I'm gonna celebrate being alive

-Brett Dennen.

Thanks Brett. I'm gonna celebrate being alive.

[to have a listen click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0l8f27jVUA ]