eye love you

co incidents.

2012-02-24T04:22:00.000-08:00

one of my friends recently told me he admired how i clearly communicate my thoughts in my blog posts. i'm not sure my thoughts are always that clear. on the contrary, i feel like i babble on and on incoherently most of the time, which is why i made a label for my posts called "nonsensical verbiage." which is what i feel is about to happen as i start this post...

i'll begin with a favorite anecdote my parents love to tell of my childhood. they packed up our chevy suburban, complete with car topper and three small children, and headed out of beckley, west virginia, bound for mississippi. the journey was 12 hours long, the road was hard, but hey there ain't no rest for the weary. anyhow as the story goes, we got to the stop light at the bottom of the hill about a mile from our house and my little 4 year old self squealed out from the back seat, "are we THERE yet?"

sometimes i live my life like that. am i there yet? is it time? when will i arrive at point x?

when i first got to ghana, i didn't fall in love with the place. i still don't think i have. the city of accra is not beautiful or charming. it's dirty. and the way it operates boggles my mind; i don't know how it holds itself together... from my naive outsider's perspective, there is hardly any infrastructure or structure to begin with. everyone just kind of does their own thing but at the same time looks out for each other more than any average joe in america would ever consider doing. it's like when you put water in a bucket and spin it around and the water doesn't fall out because of the physics of it all-- accra is like that. it's spinning around, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, but nothing ever goes terribly wrong.
so these are my thoughts five weeks into my time here in accra.

this week i realized that i could see myself staying here for a long time. for the first time ever, i wasn't opposed to putting down roots. i had stopped asking, "are we there yet?" without even knowing it. i'm not sure what brought this change. perhaps it was tuesday, when i listened to country music while it rained, and my worlds collided in a burst of nostalgia. or perhaps it was that evening when i went on a run through a residential area and could have easily convinced myself i was running on yellowbrick road at my uncle's house in mississippi. the red clay, the old men gardening, the kids getting home from school, the humid heavy air-- my second burst of nostalgia.
but none of this was the bad kind of nostalgia. have you ever read up on nostalgia? it can bring feelings of joy or sadness. this nostalgia was pure joy. joy that i can appreciate the past, the good ol' days, at the same time as i enjoy this new adventure. my story is being written, the pages are being filled up faster than i can comprehend. day by day they fill, creating a chapter of life unique specifically to this place and this time.

wednesday i went to Mokola Market, the largest outdoor market in west africa. FREAKING HUGE and CRAZY place. you can buy everything from soap to cow skin from a cow killed 2 days ago to cloth to pots and pans to alcohol to clothespins to straws from Subway to meat pies to prada knock-off purses. i'd seen it featured in the episode of Amazing Race when the cast went to ghana and made fools of themselves, but this was my first time experiencing the place in the flesh. (actually, and sadly, come to think of it, that episode of Amazing Race was the only thing i'd really seen about ghana upon arrival here 5 weeks ago. it all came about because hannah young made me watch it while hanging out at her apartment before i left in december. we made fun of the show as the cast members tried to sell sunglasses in the market and got laughed at and ripped off by locals haha.)

ok so back to the point:

who- me and a friend
what- buying sunglasses
when- wednesday
where- mokola market
why- to explore
how- arrived by tro-tro, traveled on foot

did you catch that? buying sunglasses. i was with my friend harrison and he bought sunglasses. and i was like, man, this is crazy. hannah and i were JUST watching this a coupla months ago. and it just happened. at that moment i couldn't get over the coincidence of it all. but really, is anything coincidence?

i told hannah about it later (hi hannah, i know you're reading this and i love you) and she sent me this quote by her favorite theologian, Frederick Buechner:

...People laugh at coincidence as a way of relegating it to the realm of the absurd and of therefore not having to take seriously the possibility that there is a lot more going on in our lives than we either know or care to know. Who can say what it is that's going on? But I suspect that part of it, anyway, is that every once and so often we hear a whisper from the wings that goes something like this:
"You've turned up in the right place at the right time. You're doing fine. Don't ever think that you've been forgotten."

so stop asking if you're there yet. and i'll do the same. let's look around us and find beauty in the mundane. in the unexpected. know that you have a purpose wherever you are; embrace it. similarly to what sarah mchaney said in her XA blogpost, doubt is normal-- and more than that, it is the questioning that makes us grow. but it's what we do with it that matters.

a post on listening right and speaking well, and what to make of it all

2012-02-07T05:20:00.000-08:00

a haiku4u:

we'll play it by ear

in one ear, out the other

that's how it works right?

i'm not writing any long blog posts on observations like i did the last two times. writing those posts was, for me, actually quite a laborious process. i'm not really into detailed observations and notes.

i did, however, take some notes in my Twi language class today…notes on what i wanted to say in this blog post. hahaha. oops, i should have paid more attention to the lecture right? i couldn't help it! as my professor continued talking and writing on the board, it was hot and i the heat encouraged distraction and i started doodling, and thinking about how language and interactions shape the culture i've thus far experienced here. and then i started thinking about how that ties in with what i've been reading in Donald Miller's "Blue Like Jazz."

so stay with me.

hurrrrrr we go….

1. social barriers and taboos aren't the same.

i learn fast about others, and others learn fast about me. common questions or explanations in many blossoming (and by blossoming i mean we JUST met) friendships include, "do you have a boyfriend?" or "do you want a boyfriend?" there is also, "are you christian?" and "you are beautiful!" and "what's your phone number? what's your room number?"

in America we don't move that fast. the difference in social cues makes me laugh. i'm totally comfortable with opening up this fast, it just amuses me to think about what would happen if i asked some rando on the DC metro all these questions during a morning commute.

2. conversations when it's all a sham.

so there's times when friendships move fast and it's genuine. but there's also those times when this thing called dishonesty dirties the waters of conversation.

there are two ways this happens.

first, sometimes the locals i talk with are putting on a show all along, just for kicks and giggles. this doesn't happen all that much but it's amusing when it does. examples include times when a guy comes up to me and says, "i want to marry you. i love you. you are the best girl and you DESERVE the best, girl. i am professing my love to you right here and now. will you marry me?"

in this instance, i know that he isn't serious. (some girls in my program really freak out when this happens because they don't realize it's like the ghanaian version of a pick-up line and NOT a legitimate proposition.) i don't freak out, but i've adopted the position of looking at him like he's the biggest idiot in the world and either walking away or changing the topic. i think next time i'll jump up and down and exclaim, "OMG YES! I'LL MARRY YOU! i thought you'd never ask! smooches! g2g to call my mom and tell her the news!!" and see what he says. he's just joking anyway, i might as well give him some of his own medicine.

along those lines, there are also times when i get my own chance to joke around. some of my friends and i have started telling people we're from Slovenia, or Norway, or Serbia. it's really fun, because we can put on weird accents and do a lot of improv. i know you might be judging me right now, because you might be thinking this is really rude slash deceitful of me. but i only do it when i'm meeting someone i'll literally never see again, usually someone hassling me for money. and usually it's a Rastafarian on the beach. the beaches here have hoards and hoards of Rastas just chillin, doing their own thing and trying to sell stuff. lots of stuff. telling them my real name just wouldn't be as fun. and besides, humor is universal. most of them aren't fooled by my stunning improv skills.

3. language as etiquette: saying "please" twice

if you're one of those people who like to beg and weasel your way into getting what you want, or if you're one of those people who often pulls the "please sir, i want some more" (in a british accent) line, then Twi is the language for you. saying "please" here is just expected, pretty much all the time. especially when a younger person speaks to an elder. but saying please is also expected in interactions with merchants, taxi cab drivers, etc.

there are two different words for "please," one that you use at the beginning of the sentence and one that you can use at the end. some parts of ghana even use "please" before they insult some one.. i.e. "Please, you look like a fat cow."

so, if you want to say please like a ghanaian, here's how you say it:

mepaakyew (pronounced meh-pach-oo) is the please you'd use to preface your sentence.

wae (why-ay) is what you'd use (and possibly repeat, for emphasis) at the end of your sentence.

4. a lingusitic anecdote for your enjoyment

i am learning not to assume i know the meaning of certain phrases in Twi until i see them written down. why, do you ask? well because i'm usually flat out wrong. sadly cognates do not exist between Twi and English, as they do for English and Spanish.

you know the term "mamasita" in spanish? well i thought people were calling me a mamasita left and right when i first got here, and i was like, "hmmm that's a weird Spanish phrase to be in ghana.. all i've heard so far here is 'adios.'" that was until i saw it written down and saw that what they were really saying was "ma me sika" which means "give me money." hahahahahaha i laughed at myself really hard. all along i was flattered, but what was really happening was they were asking me for money. oh, how the mighty fall.

5. and finally, what Twi is teaching me about community and family.

ghana prizes its community and family relations. i learned yesterday that a word for aunt or uncle doesn't exist in Twi. there's a similar word, one used for your parents' friends or for people around your parents' age. but, for that legitimate aunt/uncle relation (your mom and dad's siblings) you'd just refer to them as your 2nd, 3rd, or 4th, mother or father.

as i thought about it, that's a huge statement: that we are to care for our extended family just like our parents. that concept is something i really value; it resonates with me, i guess because it aligns so well with how much i value family and community in general. it also challenges me. like, what am i going to do with this, to make what i'm learning mean something?

...and then there's donald miller. i'm finally half way through Blue Like Jazz, and now i see why everyone raves about it. i borrowed it from hayley elliott years ago and never got past the first 10 pages, but now i can't put it down. at this season in my life i'm just eating up miller's words. anyhow i've been reading the impressions of christianity he formed before he became a christian, and about his impressions even after becoming a christ follower. he talked about how he used to judge Christ by the way he heard the idea delivered-- not by the merit of the idea itself. it's giving me a lot to think about in my own walk with Christ, and it's also giving me a new way of looking at the importance of listening and speaking well in my interactions here.

as i'm in the process of learning new social cues and new culturally ingrained ways of interacting, both of which are wrapped into and defined by this new language, i'm seeing that the WAY things are delivered is not what i should focus on. it's important to note, so that i can respond back appropriately. but ultimately, i should focus on the message BEHIND the delivery, the person behind the delivery, the idea behind the delivery. i should discover, seek to understand, and be understood. i should be myself, and free others to be themselves. when in ghana, do as the ghanaians do-- but ultimately remember that i'm here for a reason.

a haiku for you... then, adieu.

we'll play it by ear?

that won't cut it anymore

be intentional

ps.
happy birthday uncle steve!
or should i say papa steve. bahhaah

where you lead, i will follow

2012-01-30T05:38:00.000-08:00

yesterday i talked with my mom on the phone.

moms make everything better.

or at least, mine does.

she's like the lorelai gilmore of the real-life dimension.

as soon as i started talking with her, i started processing all the changes and challenges i'm facing right now-- things i didn't, before now, let myself think much about. until now, i've been taking in everything and it's gone in one ear and out the other, in my eyes but not to my heart. i don't yet know if i'll fall in love with ghana like i'm in love with washington, dc, or south africa, or even west virginia. but i do know that i'm going to take it one day at a time, and i'm going to be a critical observer and participator of all i experience.

so, i'll begin by taking you on an abbreviated (hopefully) tour of my last few days here:

last week.

-i learned to dance.

dances of west africa are so much fun! i first learned a dance choreographed by my friend Atsu, a dance and performance graduate from the University of Ghana. he graciously toned down the difficulty for us, since most of us do not know how to dance. also i think he wanted us to look good because we have to perform it at a welcome gala this weekend.

the second dance session consisted of a dance workshop held by the head of the dance department, and it was amazing. i'll be taking his dance class this semester, and i honestly can't wait. the professor talked about the significance of dance in this culture, and how ghanaians are raised dancing. even as infants, he pointed out, they're fastened around their mothers' backs and bounced up and down with the rhythm of work and commute. coming from a mother who doesn't dance except when she wants to embarrass me, and a father who prides himself in his two signature moves (the moonwalk and a motion that resembles something like hula hooping), i know you're eager to see how this whole dance thing works out for me. so am i, so am i.

-i cheered on the Black Stars.

football here is a world of its own. i mentioned in my last post that sundays are the only time life stops here, but i stand corrected. ghana shuts down for two things: church and football. i had the privilege of experiencing two games last week, against Botswana and Mali. a bunch of us made our way to TymeOut, a bar in one of the hostels here, to watch the games. i'm trying to figure out how to adequately convey how soccer spectatorship works here. in short, know this: there's lots of dancing. what a surprise.

my friend emma (not you, emma uebele) said it well when she called it "a ghanaian musical." it really is. you know how in musicals, life is just goin' along-- and all a sudden, people burst into song to express emotion or events in a way like no other, and then BAM! the music stops and before you know it all is back to normal and it's like nothing ever happened? yeh, it's kind of like that. when ghana scores, Azonto (see U Media Films - Azonto - Fuse ODG Feat. Tiffany (OFFICIAL) ), aka pretty much ghana's unofficial anthem, blasts over the sound system for five or ten minutes. the room erupts into mayhem: everyone jumps up, guys rip off their shirts, and go to town on some Azonto. it's impossible to avoid the madness; complete strangers dedicated at least 5 minutes of their precious celebration time to dance with me and teach me Azonto.

so, in conclusion, this is what happens: goal. people cheer. music turns on. dancing starts. the game continues. everyone still dances. the bartender finally decides it's time to turn the music off. people sit down. silence falls. life resumes.

Azonto.

-i toured the city of Accra:

its downtown district, its urban poor areas. saw the Atlantic.

i can't wait to explore the city and get a feel for it, since i've spent most of my time thus far in the ghanian version of suburbs. as we were touring the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial, it began raining HARD: a dry-season rarity! i haven't taken many pictures thus far, but i did take some of the storm clouds around that time. they were breathtaking; it was so good to see something besides dust in the air.

yesterday.

….and then yesterday was a day of its own. it proved another lesson in nothing-ever-goes-as-planned in ghana. i went to church at 8am with a friend and a French-speaking international student to Legon Interdenominational Church. it lasted a VERY long time. on top of the pre-church bible study, there was a baby dedication, a meet-and-greet for first time visitors, several performances, and at least a half hour of announcements. i thought the announcements portion was funny because all the announcements were listed in the bulletin, yet they were announced over the microphone anyhow. the preacher gave a message on the church as Christ's bride, and talked about how we can't discount our past and present selves as we place our faith in what's to come.

i planned to walk home from church, but this guy that lives in my hostel gave me a ride. we listened to the radio and let me tell you the radio stations here are so weird. they play The Carpenters, random US hits, r&b, traditional African, soul, and gospel. it doesn't matter; come one come all. the exception to the rule: on sundays, they play country music. well, this station does at least. so on the way home from church i sang along to rascal flatts. in ghana. and it didn't feel as weird as it probably should have.

after church i'd planned on going to the beach, because i STILL haven't been and cannot wait to grace the atlantic ocean with my presence, but my friend slash neighbor Rachel fell ill and thought she had malaria. it was just a false alarm (she got antibiotics for her fever/chills/aches anyhow), but we went to the university hospital and spent the afternoon there. it was no beach, still a great experience seeing the inner workings of a ghanaian hospital. the doctor didn't show up for 3 hours, which was apparently better than how it usually works. and it's all open-air, one level. i could pretty much walk anywhere and go in any room i wanted, even though i didn't have clearance. people were laying around in hospital beds, and there were extra beds chillin' outside on the sidewalk. one of our orientation leaders went with us, thank God, because he knew what to do and where to go.

other rando tid-bits of information:

-i did my laundry today for the first time and i think i failed. it's all hand-wash, put outside to dry kind of thing. i think i didn't actually wash it enough though because the stains are still there. in case you were wondering.

-i had two skirts made! and a dress. two ladies camp out in the hostel in the evenings with fabric and measuring tape, and they make amazing pieces of clothing. i picked out some bright and crazy patterns, and i can't wait to have new clothes. i packed rather light, so any new garment is a joy.

and finally, class. ..the reason i'm here. or so they tell me.

well, class starts today. in about two hours. at least, i think it does. there was a huge strike today on campus, the second since i've been here. i don't think it was the teachers though, i think it was the administrators, so we're good.. class should still be a go. people make demonstrations here a lot about salaries and such, since they're government paid (or underpaid) and employed.

my roommate is still not here, but i think i'll have one eventually. apparently she could arrive as late as a week or two from now, since a lot of people just don't show up for class the first week or so.

here's my schedule, subject to edits/additions/etc. i think i'll have to drop a class, unfortunately.

Poverty and Rural Development (sociology308)

Sociology of Deviant Behavior (sociology314)

Twi Language

Human Osteology and Forensic Anthropology (archaeology312)

Contemporary Ethical and Moral Issues (religion356)

dance class

music (drums)

oh and i might add in an internship/volunteer experience. cause i really want to get involved with a non-profit here.

alright, well the quality of my writing has declined and i have nothing left to say. if you've read this far, bless your soul. i hope this update finds you well in Amurrica, or wherever you happen to be.

sending my love,

meredith

First Impressions.

2012-01-23T05:38:00.000-08:00

Hi, I'm alive and in Ghana and about to write a huge post to squelch any curiosity one might have about my experience thus far. Classes don't start till next Monday, so for now I'm just orientating and registering and figuring out life here. I'm finding I'm starting to miss certain things, like driving around in my Civic listening to Needtobreathe and hugging my friends and calling my mom whenever I want to. But for the most part, this is an amazing adventure!

Cheers.

BEGIN.

I am a huge Jane Austen fan. Always have been. I remember one time in high school I read all her novels within a week or two of each other. I'd stay up reading until 3 or 4 am and sometimes squeeze in a BBC film adaptation, just in time to make it for school at 7:22 am sharp the next day.

Now to modern day, and the reason for this anecdote. Austen first decided to call Pride and Prejudice "First Impressions." (It was later changed to Pride and Prejudice, and I suppose that title ended up fitting the story best.) But here, for my first account of this glorious place, I will borrow Austen's idea in a way, and list my First Impressions… of Ghana.

Drumroll.

1. the red clay

There is no brown dirt here. It's all red clay, and so every day I feel like I'm down South in Mississippi visiting my mom's family. If it weren't for the nostalgia and the awesome way the red clay contrasts with the green trees and grasses here, I'd get mad at the red clay. Because it makes all my shoes gross and leaves my sandal-clad feet looking 10 shades darker than the rest of my body.

2. the developing nature

Since Ghana has been free from British control since the 1950s, it's proud of itself as a country and an identity. They don't identify by skin color here, like we do in the US. They identify by nationality, and within the country by tribe. Either you're Ghanaian or you're a foreigner. There are tribes of course under the Ghanaian identity but that seems to be less emphasized. My friend Astchu said that his favorite thing about Ghana is its peace. He said, "The peace here has let our country develop and become great, because it's not worried about bombs or fighting wars."

A great deal of conversations I've had since arriving here have centered around the discovery of oil in Ghana, capitalism, exports and imports, lack of infrastructure, and China. China is taking over the world (duh), aka investing in resources here and taking it away from the people; one professor from the Univ of Ghana called it modern-day colonialism. More on this later to come, but for now I'll continue my Impressions.

It's mind blowing to be in a developing country and in West Africa, definitely a culture shock if I let myself think about it too much. The lights can go out for hours, other times they flicker. I bought a bucket to keep in my room because the water can go out at any time, in which case a bucket baths would become necessary. This is a little too outdoorsy for some people on my program, but whattteevverr. Losers.

Huge uncovered gutters 2 feet wide and 3 feet deep line every street, so you've gotta watch out for those when you walk around. This makes pedestrian adventures at night especially adventuresome.

There are no speed limits, nor lines on the road, and pedestrians don't have the right of way. Ever. So driving here would be so fun! ..In my opinion, at least. Some people drive, but most catch taxis (after they bargain a good price) or the tro-tro, which is a passenger van that fits in at least 20 or 25 people at a time and charges a flat rate of 50 pesewas (a pesewa is a Ghanain coin).

3. the food

Ah, food. Spicy food. Fried plantains. Mangoes. Need I say more? The food has been spectacular. I eat a mango a day, at least, and cut it open with my Swiss army knife. haah. The food was REALLY great for the first week or so-- lots of rice, spicy soups, chicken, and such-- but then I moved into my room in the hostel and am now in charge of cooking my own meals. Eventually I'll learn recipes and cook with my floormates (hopefully this week) but for now I'm surviving on mangoes and fresh bread and vanilla crackers and oranges. Nutritious. For now I visit the Night Market or Bush Canteen for food, which are two market places on campus.

4. when holding hands is acceptable

The program I'm with has run us through several days of orientation, and on top of that, 8 or 9 Ghanaian students have dedicated their semesters to, well, being our friends and hanging out with us. We've had a lot of bonding time and have gotten into some interesting conversations! The guys here are a lot more friendly initially than the girls, but the girls warm up too after a while. Everyone is very sincere.. I have warmed up to the humor and culture pretty well.

One thing I find funny, compared to American culture, is how Ghanaians handle relationships. Several of my guy friends here have held my hand or my friends' hands, especially when crossing the street. They'll also put their arm around me, or any girl, randomly. Partly it's the man's role here to protect, and from what I gather, it's also a sort of male-dominance cultural thing. Regardless, it is normal interaction between friends here, no matter if one is a foreigner or not. Once a couple decides to date or court, however, the hand-holding and touchy-feely stops. Ghana pretty much has a no public display of affection policy! It is VERY rare to see a boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife show affection in public. So if you see people holding hands, you can almost bet your money they're just friends.

5. it's said "chree" not "twee"

I've started learning a little bit of Twi, the largest spoken language in Ghana. Most everyone speaks it, and also speaks a variation called Pigeon that mixes Twi and English. In Twi, I know how to say "thank you" and "I would like to buy…" and "water" and "thank you." I also know how to ask for a price reduction when bargaining. "Te so kakra": reduce it a little. Everyone knows English, but people cut you more of a deal if you throw in a little Twi.

So really, I'm set if all I need is water at a reduced price. Thank you.

6. baby there are sharks in the water

The water. I brush my teeth with it and shower in it, but that's about it. No one here drinks it, because the piping system isn't all that great and can carry typhoid, cholera, et cetera.

So, everyone drinks water in a bag or a bottle. The bottle is more expensive, so I bought a pack of 20 or 30 water bags for 1.5 cedi. That's less than a dollar! Water is so cheap here. If you went to my elementary school, and you're reading this, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say the bagged water is exactly like the bagged milk we used to get in the lunch line. cough Chad and Rich cough.

7. i sit under trees, look at the stars, and smoke weed

Okay, I don't really. But this was one girl's, my neighbor Rachel's, first impression of me. She said I'm really chill and outdoorsy so she thought I was one of those kids who got stoned while chillin out under the stars around a campfire. Not too far off, Rachel, except for the fact that I'm still a sheltered soul and haven't smoked the stuff… BHAHA it's probably the greatest first impression story I've ever gotten.

8. the dancing here

We went out, and I tried to learn how to dance like a Ghanaian. I failed. They dance to Azuntu music, and reggae. How do you dance to reggae? Exactly.

Don't worry though, I'm not leaving without a fight. I'll learn, master, and bring my skill back to Amurrica.

9. when the internet isn't all that global

You might have noticed the lapse in blog posts, and if you're really observant, the lack of action-- or sporadic action-- on my Facebook profile. That's because I don't have internet in my hostel unless I want to pay for it, and the nearest free wifi is a 25 minute walk away. My mom just called my international phone wondering if I was alive because she hasn't heard from me in a few days. Sorry, madre, for the scare. I'm alive and well.

10. the Hama Tan, or why the sky is grey

I haven't seen blue sky since arriving here seven days ago. This is because Ghana is in the Hama Tan season, when European winter winds blow across the Sahara Desert and carry all the sand into the atmosphere. All of West Africa is covered right now! The sky looks cloudy all the time, visibility is poor, and dust covers everything. When it clears it'll get REALLY hot; March will be the hottest month, and then it will begin to "cool off" as I prepare to return to the states.

11. this campus needs a PRT

Sidenote to Chad and Rich again: I'm not kidding you, this campus is bigger than WVU's campus. Well, maybs, if you could cram the downtown campus and main all together. Anyhow, take note, broskis. I'm getting a taste of what you dealt with in Morgantown and I have mad respect for you. Ghana needs a PRT.

It takes 30 to 40 minutes to walk from one side of campus to the other. There is a shuttle, but it costs money and I don't know how to use it yet or how often it runs. I'm sure that will soon change. Regardless, that is neither here nor there. Campus. is. huge. It's like its own city. It's weird to go to a school with at least 20 or 30 football (soccer) fields (or dirt patches) around campus, and street vendors, and marketplaces, and cotton trees. Yep, cotton TREES.

12. i promise i'll end soon but first i wanna talk about CHURCH

There are so many churches here. And I thought South Africa was religious.. Ghana wins, hands down. The whole city shuts down on Sundays. Taxi cabs don't run as much, stores are closed, campus closes. The kids doing homestays went to church with their host families, if they felt comfortable. Our program director told us that people here find it mind boggling when someone doesn't go to church. They're becoming more welcoming of Islam and of course the traditional African religions. There's a very small Jewish community here. Anyhow I'm excited to start going and compare Ghanaian church worship styles with the ones I'm familiar with in the US. And I'm preparing myself for lots of drumming.

13. the only time i like snails

Snail mail is the best. Several of you asked for my address so if you've decided you really wanna send something, send me an email/Facebook and I'll give it to youuuu

14. Nets-4-Nets

That's the only organization I know about that gives out mosquito nets, but now that I sleep under one I realize just how important they are in the prevention of malaria. It's really fun to sleep under a mosquito net, in case you were wondering. Add it to your bucket list.

mental pictures of everything

2012-01-07T00:00:00.000-08:00

some days have proven themselves better than others, but certain moments of every day go by unnoticed. today we spent the majority of time working with the organization we've all come to love dearly, sisters4sisters. shortly after, our team of 11 embarked upon a hike at dusk, facilitated by a full moon and the light of my headlamp. ryan and i hiked it last year, so we knew that the hike was strenuous. i think we failed to communicate that to our team as well as we should have, however. oops. a couple of them really hated us for a while until they got to the top and saw the beauty for themselves. it's an unbelievably fast ascent-- 2195 feet in no time.

lion's head is worth it though. it's part of table mountain national park, so the experience is one of a kind and the view atop takes your breath away, even if you're not a nature person at heart. if you ever go, make sure to take food. food makes everything better. at the top, i ate the pesto sandwich i had patiently, and somewhat painstakingly, saved for that very moment. also, random, but... i also partook of a bite of hamburger from a very nice lady. yep that's right, da burger. (some lady brought burgers and wine to the top for a picnic. i would be scared to drink wine and then go down a mountain like that. i would die, this i know for sure.)

all i could think as the sun set over the vast ocean was how creative god is. we think WE are creative? where do we think we get it from, that's my question to the world. it emanates from the Creator. this is just a drop in the bucket of the works he's created. tonight, god brought me and 10 of my dearest friends to that very place, to see that very specific sun set at that very specific moment. it made my head spin thinking about other moments like these that i've let slip by, unnoticed. no more. i'm gonna notice everything. watch out, world.

the colors faded in and out, from rich, dark blue to golden yellow with a neutral grey situated in between either extreme-- just like i learned in art class, by painting the color scales. nature is the best artistry out there. and the moon-- oh! so bright. we've been able to see it by day and by night the whole time we've been here in south africa, but tonight it was full and uninhibited, graciously hanging in the expansive chromatic display of a sky.

but the most important mental picture i didn't take until we got home. i showered and went outside in the backyard to journal and let my hair dry in the breeze. as i wrote the word "january" at the top of the page, i began laughing. knowing the january i've known for 21 years, complete with snow and ice and cancelled school days, it clicked that i'm in for an experience like never before in these next few months... in more ways than just this one.

i sit in a chair

full moon and starlit sky

the moon so full it drowns out the stars nearest it,

kind of like it steals all their light as fuel

it harnesses their energy that way

the stars though, they shine on

strong as ever

their formation unfamiliar to me,

but their language still the same

the wind, it blows

not one direction--but all

it whips around my person,

blows my hair and pierces my soul

blows the cuffs of my pants against my feet and my ankles

blows through all fabrics and kisses my skin

i hear it rustling, through the gaps and openings in my earbuds

earbuds that pump The First Days of Spring

just like it is the first time

ever

i can't explain why i'm here, why i'm me and why i was born to parents who love me and care for me and work to give me this sort of opportunity. should i feel guilty? satisfied? undeserving? thankful? motivated? i can't explain any of this, and i can neither explain why my parents and my brothers and friends and the people i met today and yesterday and the day before yesterday cannot experience this very moment. why am i the only one out here in this chair, looking at the moon perfectly situated in the night sky surrounded by stars and wind and natural glory? for some reason, inexplicably so, this mental picture is orchestrated and enjoyed by myself. myself alone. (unless you find it just as beautiful as i do, now that it's out on the interwebs.)

i'm sure many around the world are gazing at the moon's beauty right now this very second, and perhaps some of them are thinking about it as introspectively as i. ...probably not as introspectively. that's a long shot. meh, you never never know.

regardless, for the moment, i'm content with being overwhelmed by god's love for me: how he gave me breath and painted the skies and numbered the stars and the grains of sand and the number of hairs on my sunburned head. i can't explain, but something within me declares thank you. i love you too.

i sit back, revel, soak, and enjoy alone. the sounds of Noah and the Whale continue, this time a new take on the old favorite "I Have Nothing":

so walk with me
on this new spring morning
i'll walk you till your fears are none
i'm a new baby weeping
i'm the flower you're keeping
that without love will wilt and die

and one last thing-- i'm not really using a camera right now, and i'm not taking pictures at work sites to protect privacy. but if you want to follow scenic adventures, check out http://inkstagram.com/#/users/3033772/photos. that's the best i can do.

and one more thing-- mom, i know you're reading this. hi madre, i love you and i promise i'll send you a large email full with love soon!

ramblings from a scattered brain in cape town

2012-01-02T13:52:00.000-08:00

i have a few minutes to myself tonight and a bar of dark chocolate at hand, so i thought i'd update the interwebz on my life. it's in no way cohesive or conclusive, i assure you.

we've been doing amazing sightseeing stuff mainly since arriving here. that's because south africa takes the holiday srrsly and basically stops functioning from middle of january till 1st/2nd week of january. (which means that a lot of the organizations we're meeting with aren't open till tomorrowish aka HI, free time for educational non-service-related ventures!) i've gotten tan already, except we've probably had too much sun because one of the group members is currently in bed with sun poisoning. ...we went to the beach yesterday for new years day and i don't know if she wore sunscreen. oops. but i swam on the africa side of the atlantic yesterday and OMG IT WAS SO COLD! but so worth it. i always swim in the ocean wherever i go. just putting your feet in isn't good enough. it's diving in that matters. i couldn't stop smiling.

correction-- i stopped smiling once i remembered seeing an article in saturday's paper with an article about shark attacks on the front page. remembering that great whites frequent the waters off the cape coast turned that smile into a gasp rather fast.

there's so much to cover, idk how i could accurately tell you what we've been doing. we've gone to the top of mountains and toured Robben Island, where Mandela was imprisoned. we've been to townships which are the equivalent of slums for south africa i guess. they started in apartheid and haven't changed in the 17 years since it ended. which is a whole other issue in itself. and we have had the privilege of spending hours with people who lived through apartheid, mainly black people or mixed people (south africa historically classifies itself racially as white, black, colored, etc. and in this case colored means mixed.) we learned basic xhosa phrases, xhosa being the largely spoken dialect in this province. "molo" means hi. i would say "molo bhuti" to a boy, you would say "molo sisi" to me. "kunjabi" means how are you. stuff like that.
oh, and i've started eating substantial quantities of meat, this time WITHOUT the four hour long stomach ache. i ate ham the other day actually, which made me quite proud of my progress. i'm realizing i like meat more than i thought but i'm still excited to give it up again when i get back, because i just love being a vegetarian. so much healthier and humane and environmentally sustainable. and cheaper. the guy i marry should be grateful for my eating habits, cause they're cheaper. bam.

i think the two biggest things running through my mind are 1) how recent apartheid was and therefore how recently it ended. it's not exactly like that in america because it's been around 150 years.. although current and institutionalized injustices in america still blow my mind. anyhow, people i meet here lived through apartheid (!!), and that's not the case for america in its present day state. 17 years ago was in my lifetime. and that just blows my mind. i interact with people everyday who used to or probably still do see the white as the oppressor, or with people who used to be seen as the oppressors themselves. for the former, they have experienced this oppression or torture or injustice or mistreatment or discrimination firsthand-- more than just through history books or family stories. sometimes in the places we go my group of mostly white people is the minority, and getting used to the fact that people may see me as evil or oppressive is hard. not because they're in the wrong, because they're allowed that. but because that's just painful for me to imagine being in their position. the stuff people have been through...
2) but then there's also indescribable joy. i think one thing i am realizing is that there is that human component to anything and everything and it cannot be smothered or vanquished or belittled. in every policy, behind every rule, in every family, in every situation, there's humanity. without recognizing this, good things go bad. great ideas go sour. i'm reminded that smiles and eye contact matter. just being in some of these peoples' presence is transformative. some of this just can't be taught in a class or presented through a documentary. i'm grateful to be in college right now and to have this opportunity and others like it to travel and seek to understand at least a little something about how the world works.

tomorrow starts our real "service learning" component of the trip. we're working on a cultural exchange venture with some middle school aged girls, and i cannot wait. i know and love dearly the director of the organization, a woman named eunice. i went over to her house for tea today and i'm pretty sure i coulda stayed there forever. just being in her presence makes me feel more whole. we have meetings all through the week and then start working with a new organization in a few days. i'm prepared for lots of dancing, lots of smiling, lots of questioning and sharing and learning.

it's weird not being in the everyday lives of the people i love most from back in amurrica. i feel bad, like i'm doing something wrong by abandoning them. i feel awfully selfish, but at the same time i know this is an adventure i need to go on. i know god has prepared the way for me to walk, and i know not walking in it would be a sin. so really, all is well.
i do, however, feel like a fifth grade girl saying this: i think the thing i miss most at the moment is not having the capability to text my friends. that disconnect is strange. but at the same time it's wildly liberating! so overall, i love it. i am excited, however, to rid myself of the burden called alternative break leadership (although it IS a wonderful role, i promise) and strike out on my own. in ghana. i'm excited for time to write you all and read the books i want to read. currently i'm reading ellen degeneres's latest book, and it makes me chortle pretty much every stinking page. people leave the room when i start reading it because i distract them too much with my laughter.

i pray you blessings over your New Year. 2012. crazy life right there. when did it become 2012. i remember it like just yesterday when it was y2k; people stocked up on water and food and camped out in their basements, prepared for the worst like there was some atomic bomb. i challenge you to do the opposite. stop preparing and just DO already, you know? don't make goals for yourself, make challenges.

december rain

2011-12-22T19:45:00.000-08:00

rain falls outside
i curl up on my window seat
knees to my chest
hair in a ponytail
snapple in hand
book by my side

rain evokes emotion
washes over me
it tells me
rest, it is finished
it washes away the worry
like turpentine removes paint from a brush
like acetone strips nails of their polish

away it goes
away it all goes
with the rain

the rain, it rushes down the hill
down the sidestreets and mainstreets and sidewalks
it leaves the plateaued mountain
and reaches the gulley

to the river it flows
into the ocean it bleeds
the clouds, they pick it up
and drop it off again
against my window

rain falls outside

study tips from your most ardent studier

2011-12-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

"The dream."
College: where we come to learn. To study. To catapult ourselves from dependence and obscurity to independence, academic and professional greatness.

I had enormous hopes for myself when I envisioned my college life. I would study between classes and write papers in timely fashion during the weekdays, leaving my weekends wide open for amusing adventures. How wise.
I'd do great research, delving deep into interesting scholarly things, with time to spare. How noble.
And I'd use all my other time for what I imagined my social life would be: important, but a mere second to academic pursuits. How quaint.

"The reality."
College: where I came to realize that in high school I was the biggest nerd on the planet.

College is nothing like I imagined.
I go here to learn, but I don't go here to study. I go here to catapult myself and others into a life worth living, a Purpose bigger than ourselves.

What do I do in college?
Well, I spend way too much time with people, and when I'm not with people, I am… well, I'm pretty much always with people.
I don't do work between classes; instead I get coffee with a friend or buy plane tickets or go on hikes or drive or make art or watch Hulu. I don't finish my papers in timely fashion; instead I #clublibs. I master the art of procrastination by living and breathing social media, taking sub-par photos with my iphone, drinking Snapple, researching South Africa, going to concerts, staring at the moon, signing up for pottery classes, watching inspirational dog movies like Homeward Bound, drooling over National Geographic, eating black beans, listening to Noah and the Whale, and calling my mom.
For me, the social and the academic spheres flip-flopped right after my high school graduation day. I did so well in high school. Sigh. But I dropped the books, started running, and I never looked back. Smile.

So why are you writing a blog on study tips, ignats? you might ask.
I'll tell you why. There's a method to my madness.
You see, here's my philosophy: studying isn't that important!
Buuuuuuuut important and necessary aren't synonymous, so don't you let that smile get too large. Ya still gots to study, kid. But just 'cause you're studying don't mean it ain't fun.

mbd's glorious, enviable, and fool-proof study tips for success:

1. break out the eye glasses if you've got them. don't sacrifice your eye sight for style. wear them loud and wear them proud; finals week hits one, hits all. and it ain't pretty.

2. wear flannel. and sweatpants. wear them separate, wear them together-- any combination will do.

3. check Facebook a lot. hey, it's a good distraction.

4. bring your computer charger with you wherever you go. don't be stoopid like me and forget it at your apartment (or dorm room or house, it you are so lucky as to have a house).

5. drink caffeine. but don't get addicted. addictions are bad.

6. the best study places on campus: SIS balcony, and especially Battelle atrium & Katzen. …you heard it here first. but keep it a secret; I want Battelle and Katzen to remain underpopulated and free of people who actually support the wonk campaign. crazies. i like the Battelle and Katzen demographics as they are.

7. get sleep. my bed is my best friend, it's true. the question is, is your bed YOUR best friend?

8. don't stay up late doing things that could be finished tomorrow.
case in point: me, writing this blog right now at 2.02am. is this really necessary? no. will i continue writing? without question.

9. "get a grip."
i've heard this line more times than i could ever try to count in my lifetime. it's my dad's favorite phrase, kind of the same as "no pain, no gain" or "no guts, no glory" or "suck it up." maybe you're lucky enough to be familiar with some of those beautiful lines. inspirational, amirite?

prime examples:

(when i was a little kid, sick and throwing up in the toilet)
kid: Daddy, I need a towel, I'm throwing up!
dad: Get a grip, Mere! You're fine!

(when my little twin brothers wrestled each other to the ground and possibly hit each other with golf clubs)
kid: AHHH!! DAD!!! Chad just hit me with a golf club!! (starts crying)
dad: You're fine, boy. Get a grip! Shake it off. (walks away)

you get the picture.
finals week is almost over as soon as it begins, trust me. so get a grip!

10. don't be blind to beauty.

"When one enters the portals of learning, one leaves the dearest pleasures-- solitude, books, and imagination-- outside with the whispering pines." -Helen Keller in The Story of My Life

all Helen Keller jokes aside, don't be blind to beauty. whether it's free finals week snacks in the windowless dungeon--errr i mean basement--of Kay Spiritual Center; whether it's climbing a tree or jumping in rain puddles or watching five seasons of Bones; whether it's writing a poem or buying a Street Sense issue or painting like Bob Ross or reading your favorite book for the 12,923,482th time, or checking on a friend-- don't be blind to beauty. invite beauty, embrace beauty.

there will still be time for studying, i promise. that's what college is for.

yours sincerely,
meredith

a variation of "rain on my face"

2011-12-03T09:25:00.000-08:00

i don't have to move to listen
i'm close enough, as it were
i don't have to sing well to praise You
Your angels do that better already
i don't have to work for Your goodness
i don't have to chase down Your love
i don't have to move to listen
You are wherever i am
You call me to obey,
to submit and to honor
so here i am
humbled, dry.
fill me up with Your glory,
fill me up till i drown.

i wrote this during the last TNW, when the honorable blane young refreshed my perspective on ephesians 5.21 and 6.1.

living and dying, or really just something in between.

2011-11-24T23:19:00.000-08:00

i offer up questions.
what does it MEAN to live, to live fully conscious of life and of death?
what is death, if i'm alive? or am i not really alive at all, but dying?

what value lies in seeing the sun from here, if i've never seen the earth from there?

i offer no answers. God is, was, will be The Answer. The Answer does not come in words alone, but in actions: of mercy, of sacrifice, of love.

none of us lives
for ourselves alone
and none of us dies
for ourselves alone
Romans 14.7

if seeing the sun from here, as it streams between tree branches, exposing rugged bare branches swaying like arms in a restless crowd-- if this is all it takes to glimpse unadulterated beauty, if for just a second-- i am content.
if this state of ignorance yields some semblance of Life and Life more abundant, and if dying to myself means coming alive in Someone Else, then i find joy in this restful sincerity of heart.
yes, rest.
maybe this moment of rest is all i needed.

all systems go

2011-11-17T12:45:00.000-08:00

i'm drinking coffee out of a mug i glazed myself. it's large, about half the size of a dodgeball. its disproportionately large compared to the tiny handle on the side. i splattered paint all over it and included some Santa Fe flair on the handle, and ran some arrows going from the bottom rim all the way up the side and into the hollow innards. but what's most important is what i penned right beside some planets and the moon: set the world on fire.

i made this mug about a year ago, on the heels of an amazing weekend with my brother, rich. he came to visit in DC and we did all sorts of DCist things. but most importantly we sat in my apartment with my friends and did nothing. (and by nothing i mean we broke out the 96 count Crayola crayons and coloring books, and maybe some xbox Geometry Wars.)

we did nothing. until the inflatable AU Abroad globe caught on fire. it brushed against a candle and that's all she wrote. flames raged, smoke billowed in the air and hit the 8 ft ceilings faster than you can say Mississippi.
there's now a spot in the carpet where the drama went down; it's all black and charred, forever marking that auspicious occasion.

set the world on fire.

Now to Him who is able to strengthen you according to my Gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ,
according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but now has been disclosed and through the prophetic writings has been made known to all nations,
according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith--
to the only wise God be glory forevermore through Jesus Christ! Amen.

authority- Greek "exousia"- (n): the ability or strength with which one is endued, and the right to exercise that power
command- Greek "epitagé"- (n): an injunction, the authoritativeness of a command

Paul really brings it in Romans 16.26. kind of brings me to my knees. why this authority? why this command? why are these related? i struggle with authority. i don't like obeying it, and i don't like exhibiting it. it's not natural for me. authority of the law? pish posh. i like jwalking and speeding and illegally downloading too much; authority's just holding me back. i'm an accommodater, an avoider. why should i confront, collaborate, compete, or call out when i can sit back and let life take its course?

i'm learning that sometimes i'm that piece of life that directs that course, ultimately directed and breathed into existence like a breath on a snowy winter day by a God of mystery, of strength, beauty, glory and truth.
i'm learning sometimes i can't run from authority, because it is a command.
i'm learning that i'm not exempt-- not by my busy schedule, and not by my very nature. the nature that screams of everything within me to run and scream in the opposite direction, help! somebody with vision, humility, and undying fortitude, come quickly! people need you here!
somewhere along the line, God raised me up.

somewhere between the time i came to AU, the times my freshman self called my mom homesick at 3am and the times i would go on solo hikes and climb trees just to get away from people and "city noise"... somewhere between that time and now, God's been working.
so for now, all i can do is listen to Painting Pictures of Egypt and praise a God that's directed me into places i never woulda gone on my own, had my back not been turned.

set the world on fire.

hickory smoked ham

2011-11-17T08:43:00.000-08:00

the apartment reeks of rotting hickory smoked ham. raw ham that's been left in an open Tupperware under the sun, exposed to the elements and maggots.
i just raided our fridge again.
something smells.
we can't seem to find the culprit. it's stinking up the whole place, but no one wants to wipe out the fridge.
who has the time? we say.
i do more work around here than the two of them combined, each of us mutter under our breaths.

and so it goes.

the apartment reeks of rotting hickory smoked ham.

what jesus, his disciples, and rob bell have taught me about my former major-- public relations.

2011-09-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

I started reading Movement 7 of Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis tonight.It's the last movement of his book, and so far it's talked about how God's going to restore our world. How He made it good (not perfect, mind you) and how one day He will bring heaven down to earth and THEN it will be perfect.
He talks about how Caesar Augustus, in Jesus's day, claimed to be a god. Advent was the period of 12 days leading up to Caesar's birth!! AHAHA. The guy even had people bring him offerings of frankincense and myrrh to get rid of their guilt.
And, he coined the slogan "Caesar is Lord."

Tonight I realized that Jesus and his disciples are the best Public Relation specialists in history, even before the practice of real PR began.

Think about it-- taking the most popular phrases and rituals of the day and tweaking them to fit your own campaign? GENIUS. (I know Jesus as the Messiah wasn't really a campaign, but see this thing through.)
Bell talks about how it was commonplace to claim you've been raised from the dead back then; even Caesar claimed he had been resurrected.
So the challenge then, for the disciples and for the risen Lord, was in what they did AFTER the resurrection. The claim that Jesus was the Messiah wasn't enough. They needed more than that. Christians, not the government, served the people.
And it was through THIS that they proved the love of Christ and the sacrifice He made, and the sacrifice he calls us all to make.
Daily.
They loved people. Took them in, befriended them, laughed with them and created inside jokes.
They got to know their families and their passions.
They lived.

So here's the deal.
I sometimes forget why I serve.
Sometimes I lose track, get burnt out, and trick myself into thinking that the fuzzy warm feeling I get inside when I spend time with someone or help someone out with some thing in some way is enough. That it's what it's all about.
But it isn't.
We serve and love and glorify His name because that's the example Jesus set.
Because He loved us so much that it's all He could do.
Paul referred to Jesus as a "firstfruit" in 1 Corinthians 15.20. Which meant that after Jesus, there would be more of us to model-- and even extend-- Jesus's love after Jesus returned to heaven.

It makes me think a lot about AU and all the people that go here. Everyone wants to make a difference. In politics, in international service, in whatever. And the alternative break program? i'm starting to spend a lot of time around Alt Break leaders in preparation for South Africa and am flabbergasted by how idealistic and passionate these people are. They feel so deeply the pain of others. Why don't all Christians feel this way? Why don't I? What went wrong?

And so these first Christians passed on the faith to the next generation who passed it on to the next generation who passed it on to the next generation until it got to...us. Here. Today. Those who follow Jesus and belong to his church. And now it's our turn. It is our turn to step up and take responsibility for who the church is going to be for a new generation. It is our turn to redefine and shape and dream it up all again.. It is our turn to rediscover the beautiful, dangerous, compelling idea that a group of people, surrendered to God and to each other, really can change the world. (Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis p164)

I just switched out of my major, Public Communication (aka Public Relations) this week.
'Cause MAN I H8-ed IT.
But the good thing is, PR is kinda intuitive. Look at what the disciples did-- taking ownership of the "Caesar is Lord" campaign that Caesar Augustus and his minions had goin' on, and putting their own spin on it. Reclaiming pop culture. Not ignoring it and denying its existence, but instead capitalizing on its popularity and relatability and reaching people THROUGH it.
I might hate PR, but that's a durn good approach that even I can appreciate.

Two things. One, I sure am gonna look at my Advent calendar different this Christmas. IDK about you, but I never knew until now that Advent was originally the time that marked up to Caesar Augustus's birthday. I guess I didn't pay attention in Sunday School. Typical.

And two, it's time to reclaim. Together. "It is our turn to rediscover the beautiful, dangerous, compelling idea that a group of people, surrendered to God and to each other, really can change the world."

Cheers.

neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night

2011-09-07T22:48:00.000-07:00

the rain falls
it is a hollow sound, filled with joy
i don't know how it sounds of joy
an emotion, a state of being, a whim?
but joy, it sounds

it lightnings
illuminating show for all the world to see
where do the lights come from? we wonder
electricity
friction
the flow of energy
back and forth, back and forth

the reason
the reason we live and breathe and wonder and create and are
the reason for it all
the reason we long and pine and seek and find
the reason for it all

in the seeking comes the finding
now faith is the assurance of things hoped for
the assurance of things not seen

what is it i have yet to see? it will come
am i brave enough to hope?

be still and know.

" The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deephunger meet." -Frederick Buechner

it's been a while since i looked at the stars.

2011-09-05T14:10:00.000-07:00

i haven't posted in a while. i've been too busy counterblogging, you see.
but i read this on symphony chau's blog today, entitled THE VISION. and it really moved me. read it for yourself.

The Vision – By Pete Greig
So this guy comes up to me and says:
“What’s the vision? What’s the big idea?”
I open my mouth and words come out like this:
The vision?
The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people.You see bones? I see an army.
And they are FREE from materialism.
They laugh at 9-5 little prisons.
They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday.
They wouldn’t even notice.
They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won.
They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations.
They need no passport.
People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.
What is the vision ?
The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.
It makes children laugh and adults angry.
It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars.
It scorns the good and strains for the best.
It is dangerously pure.
Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation.It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games.This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.
A million times a day its soldiers choose to loose,
that they might one day win
the great ‘Well done’ of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don’t need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: “COME ON!”
And this is the sound of the underground
The whisper of history in the making
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once againMystery is scheming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing…
This is the sound of the underground
And the army is discipl(in)ed.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.The tattoo on their back boasts “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain”.
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes.
Winners. Martyrs.
Who can stop them?
Can hormones hold them back?
Can failure succeed?
Can fear scare them or death kill them?
And the generation prays
like a dying man
with groans beyond talking,
with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and
with great barrow loads of laughter!
Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.
Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.

They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive
Inside.
On the outside? They hardly care.
They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives – swap seats with the man on death row – guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.
Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)
Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centres.
Don’t you hear them coming?
Herald the weirdos! Summon the losers and the freaks.
Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.
They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension.
Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.
And this vision will be.
It will come to pass;
it will come easily;
it will come soon.
How do I know?
Because this is the longing of creation itself,
the groaning of the Spirit,
the very dream of God.
My tomorrow is his today.
My distant hope is his 3D.
And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great ‘Amen!’ from countless angels, from heroes of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.
Guaranteed.

i can't stop thinking lately about prayer. about our generation, about God moving. it's been on my heart. and it's in the world aroundme. he's moving, on my campus. in my families, in the power of forgiveness, and in the pursuit of his daughters and sons.
and this poem pretty much sums it all up.

2011-04-20T02:04:00.000-07:00

i'm not gonna state

obvious observations everybody makes

but baby, be prepared to be surprised

sondre lerche, "to be surprised"

Today in my Major Social Theorists class, I learned about Georg Simmel and his theory of modernity and our blasé attitude.

bla·sé

adj.

1. Uninterested because of frequent exposure or indulgence.

2. Unconcerned; nonchalant

Last weekend my mom visited, and we went to see the Washington National Cathedral. The first time we went, at 6.30p on a sunny Sunday evening, we didn't plan ahead. We stopped serendipitously on our way back to my apartment, because I realized as we were driving past it that my mom had never seen the Cathedral up close. She's only been to the District two or three times since I've gone to school here, and we've always been pushed for time. But this time, we stopped.

And it was closed to the public.

So we went the next day, after a relaxing morning-- during which we talked about the sexualization of middle school girls over our cups of coffee...charming, I know-- and this time the Cathedral's doors were open to us.

We walked in, and toured around. We didn't have the time to invest in a legitimate tour by robed Episcopalian tour guides, so I shared with Mom what trivia I could remember from my tour of the Cathedral during freshman year. I showed her the large marble caveat where the honorable President Woodrow Wilson resided, and how his wife Edith was only recognized with a plaque that says something like "Edith is buried way under this vault."

I told her about the stained-glass windows, and how they tell the stories of the Bible through their designs. I pointed out the largest and most impressive stained glass on the North, South, East, and West sides of the Cathedral and tried to remember their names and all that good stuff. We also got into a discussion of whether some Episcopal churches hold special blessing services for their domesticated animals.

Mom had her camera out and ready, but she was taking horrible pictures. I knew this would, inevitably, be the case.

Why?

First of all, her camera is older than I am. Secondly, she has no eye for or tendency to pursue such aesthetic things. And thirdly, after all this time she still doesn't understand the nuances of the camera flash. (Not understanding the workings of a point-and-shoot is my mother's only flaw, let it be known.)

So I took some pictures for her with my camera and we skittadled out of there and on to lunch.

It was all a very typical tour experience:

Arrive at Cathedral.

Marvel at its enormous size with visitor.

Share trivia and other random facts, like the fact that Tenleytown is the highest point in D.C., thereby making the National Cathedral the tallest point but not the tallest building.

Enter house of worship, scoff at the donation boxes and secretly wonder why tax dollars aren't enough to cover tourism efforts.

Saunter into sanctuary, begin the loop around the place.

Take photos, if so inclined.

Exit through the gift shop.

It was typical, at least, until we got into the car.

"Wow," Mom said under her breath as she sat down in the passenger seat of my beloved Honda Civic, the same car she and I traveled to Oregon in over the last summer.

"I know, right?" I responded, as I shifted it into Drive.

"The whole time we were there, I wanted to cry because it was so beautiful," she said. "I had no idea it would be so spiritual. I expected it to be cold. But I just had this overwhelming sense of peace in there."

This stopped me in my tracks, and I began to evaluate my own reactions. When did I check out? When did that huge building, the second largest cathedral in the U.S. and seventh largest in the world, cease to amaze me?

I've gone blasé.

And it's not okay.

Yes, I have gone blasé. Simmel predicted my reaction. He says it happens in metropolitan situations especially, or places in which we're so bombarded with stimuli and information and opportunities that we cease to react strongly to any of them. It applies to anything-- how we react to the trials of others, even something so "everyday" as how we react to a traffic accident on the interstate. (When's the last time I was more concerned for the accident victim(s) than the bumper-to-bumper deal I'm stuck in?)

When did something like a deadly wreck stop phasing me?

When did the Washington National Cathedral stop inspiring me?

When did God become so small?

The opposite of blasé:

concerned; responsive

I'm trying it out this week. Join me if you dare.

I will seek to see things as for the first time.

To see things like my mom did-- spiritual, relevant, awe-inspiring. The opposite of the expected. The comfortable. The cold. The distant. The indifferent.

[10] Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and renew a right spirit within me.

[11] Cast me not away from your presence,

and take not your Holy Spirit from me.

[12] Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

and uphold me with a willing spirit.

(Psalm 51:10-12 ESV)

my beautiful mother basking in the general splendor at the Cathedral

el fin.

2011-02-23T09:21:00.000-08:00

confession?

blogs scare me.

i've written so many more posts than the ones seen by you. twenty-four, actually. but how many can you see? oh, i don't know-- ten, perhaps.
honesty frightens me. it freezes me. it makes me feel like whatever honest thing i have to say needs to be said well. eloquently. accurately.

but it doesn't.

i don't know why i'm scared of messiness. of disorder.
i myself am messy, and disorderly.
maybe i just don't look in the mirror enough. maybe i don't want to face the fact that this is true.
that this is honest.
that this is life.

i began this blog as an outlet for self-expression, but it's not a soundboard. it's an exhibit.
and i'm done.

hello, humanity.
welcome to the mess.
don't worry about taking your shoes off. you're fine as you are.

...and ya know, so am i.

houston, we've got a problem

2011-02-02T11:03:00.000-08:00

oops, no more haikus
gone, like frank sinatra, gone
once upon a time

i don't think it's the end, but i know we can't keep going

2010-12-26T23:54:00.000-08:00

first of all, don't read this until you've opened noah and the whale's BLUE SKIES in a separate window.
now that you've clicked the link and started the song, read on.

cheers.

as you have probably discovered, i did NOT write a haiku a day during my 2week hiatus in west virginia. i have three more that i will post at the end of this post, but that is all i have for you. well, those three and this one that i will write right now, johnny on the spot.
well actually, be warned-- it isn't a haiku. it's more free verse.

tomorrow
things will change tomorrow
steady rise and fall, rise and fall
rapid breaths, deep breaths
like gasping for air when there is none
shallow breaths, ragged breaths
like choking for a scream when afraid

tomorrow is today and today is yesterday
all the days, they run together
fluid, broken
perfect in memory, they play through my mind
one by one they filter by
all the days and their events
their faces
their names

i see them and i wave
but they don't see me
gone, they are
..but yet to come
once reality
..but yet a figment of my imagination
i yearn for yesterday
i yearn for tomorrow
i yearn and i yearn today.

the three haikus:

scrabble ate my soul
when i played my mother, failed,
then cried a river
(just for the record, i really didn't cry. it just sounded nice in the poem.)

donuts in the snow
like swirling merry-go-rounds
laughter fills the air

tomorrow i'm driving to dc in the snow, and catching a plane. that plane will carry me to south africa.
god, thank you for giving me the passion to travel.
for giving me the capacity to care about people i love and even people i don't know. thank you for sights i've never seen, smells i've never smelled and foods i've never tasted. for culture. art. life. vigor. joy.
i love it all, and i love you.
i know you'll be with me tomorrow when i drive away, and i know you'll be here with my mom and brothers i leave behind. work in a big way in the remaining months of chad and rich's senior year, god. prepare them for college. may they grow deeper in their friendships and relationship with you and their love for those around them. especially my mom. continue to guide them and lead them... i can't wait to see them go out and find their own.
god, i lay this whole trip at your feet. i give it to you. i don't want to control any aspect of it, lord. because if i do, i'll mess up your purpose. so all i know to do is walk into this opportunity you've given me. i'm walking behind you, because you've prepared the way and your plan is perfect. may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing in your sight o lord, my rock and my redeemer. i don't always have a lot to say to other people, especially ones i don't know. but lord, whatever i do say i just want to speak it in love. thanks for making everything glorious.

clouds gather above
dense, full of snow and fury
on the road again

oh goodness

2010-12-21T23:22:00.000-08:00

no haikus4u since 14 december.
i am slacking.
i am a slacker.
slacker |ˈslakər|noun informala person who avoids work or effort.• a person who evades military service.• a young person (esp. in the 1990s) of a subculture characterized by apathy and aimlessness.

it's all Christmas Break's fault.

me? apathetic?
no responsibility
it makes me that way

emma uebele called me out on my blog's lack of haikus and kindly wrote some lovely lines to help fill the void:

rain on a tin roof
pounds right into the pages
of this fireside soul

still to come-- haikus about feminism, scrabble, donuts, hipster snowmen, ice cream, irons, and much much more.

CUATRO (and 5)

2010-12-14T22:58:00.000-08:00

this is what i think of when i say the word "cuatro": click here to see THE POWER OF 4.
it isn't spelled the same but it's the sound that matters.

today my car died
dead as a door-nail she is
old marley's ghost-- BOO

i'm currently listening to the songs of my teenage years on pandora. lots of all-american rejects, blink182, and yellowcard. they think they're so badass. ...sugar we're going down? wake me up when september ends? yehhh boi. it's just one of those nights, the type of night that calls for such music.
(this instance is probably exacerbated by the fact that i'm living (temporarily) under my mother's roof again and NOT on my own. although really i never lived on my own and probably won't for a long time. until.. idk, WHEN I GET A JOB.)
anyhow, poema de CINCO es aqui:

green day, lincoln park
so much angst and so much bark
oops that rhyme was bad

dos y tres

2010-12-12T12:01:00.000-08:00

yesterday i drove home a day early to beat what my brother calls "the last storm of 2010." i don't think it will be the last one. as long as you love me so/ LET IT SNOW.

i drive home with speed

like a horse out of a gate

with blinders, i go

speaking of rich, i asked him to write one. the result:

grilled cheese is da bomb

i love it as much as mom

ROFLcopter out!!!!!!!!

hi coo 1.

2010-12-11T01:02:00.000-08:00

(hī'kū)
n., pl., haiku, also -kus.

A Japanese lyric verse form having three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables, traditionally invoking an aspect of nature or the seasons.
A poem written in this form.

[Japanese : hai, amusement (from Middle Chinese bəij, pha·j) + ku, sentence (from Middle Chinese kuəh).]

i plan to write a haiku every day for the next month.
i don't know where the inspiration will come from. tonight, i am tired and want nothing more than to go to bed. i'm not feeling very inspired. but i've committed to this endeavor and sometimes the greatest and most creative of works come out of exhaustion, or because of pressure, or in lieu of other things.

this is not one of them.
but, i am not looking for greatness at the moment.
i stretched myself with this little haiku and it feels good.
i found my inspiration in a woven piece of fabric from arizona. i use it to set really hot dishes of food on. ..but it's quite possible that this deviates from its intended use. the fabric is a creamy beige color, with fringe on the edges and two huge saguaro cacti in the middle. they sit against a vibrant setting sun. the sun hangs low in the sky, melting into the clouds.

the color of sky
sky, the place airplanes fly fast
the color of dreams

my blog is neither entertaining, light, or saucy. and it's not intended to be.

2010-11-21T00:47:00.000-08:00

this water runs to a river.
the river, it runs to an ocean.
and the ocean, it blankets the earth like a carpet the fiercest shade of blue.
the water runs down, closer and closer to the center of the earth.
where the water runs deepest, so does its color.
the fiercest shade of blue.

i turn away from the river, and i turn for home.
i try to navigate my way back, without the river as my guide.
for it is gone.
i see where it used to run.
how the strength of rushing water, after many years of rushing, left its mark on the earth.
i see it dug out a path among the boulders and the trees.
it ran strong and blue and constant,
but now i see no water.

think about the best thing that could possibly ever happen to you.
the best thing.
don't be shy, don't be humble.
go all out.
the best thing.

well imagining that thing happening-- whoa! --except not being happy about it.
being, unintentionally maybe, ungrateful. and looking forward instead to the next best thing.
in other words, imagining completely missing that moment you'd waited for. missing the significance of the best moment your dreams could ever conjure.

that is my worst fear.

i'm reminded time and time again the importance of captivating the moment. being present. living intentionally. and i find peace. and it's beautiful.

peace i leave with you, MY peace i give you. i do not give to you as the world gives. do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. --john 14.27

peace is right here waiting the whole time, because it's what jesus left to me and you. my family, my friends, my greatest musings or dreams or memories-- they cannot sustain me. i am strong and resolved, only through living in christ.

alan paton + noah and the whale? glory.

2010-11-16T18:58:00.000-08:00

i am beginning to read Cry, the Beloved Country.
and i've only gotten through the foreward, notes, and introduction so far. but i already know it's going to be one of those books i can't put down. one of those books that alters my life and changes the way i talk, the way i think, the way i see--- if only a little.

"it is a story of the beauty and the terror of human life, and it cannot be written again because it cannot be felt again."
-alan paton, writer of Cry, the Beloved Country

south africa, hurr eye cum.

untitled, and appropriately so

2010-11-14T21:40:00.000-08:00

the smallest, lamest moments make me laugh. i don't know if that's simply one of my idiosyncrasies, or if maybe every human is like that. although there are those don't laugh at all, for fear of truly living or exposing raw character.

doesn't laughing at a moment sound nonsensical? wouldn't it make more sense to laugh at a joke?
but moments-- they are so undefined. nonlinear. unpredictable. and perhaps this volatility is what makes them so great.
moments can be good or bad or genuinely hilarious or planned or spontaneous or illuminating or completely earth-shattering.
all this simply screams beauty.

mountains in the rearview mirror, laced with fog
a sunglasses swap
chap stick or food? roommate choses the former
one moment, hugs over cumbersome water glasses
the next, hugs that should never break off... but do
and broken elevator buttons
downtown buildings and unconventional hobbies
cats on grocery store walls
and squiggly clowns
poker and pecans
slow loris, wine, eyeballs

these moments inundate my mind, my stream of consciousness.
and in no particular order and no particular time,
they make me laugh.

from the cowardice that dares not face new truth,
from the laziness that is contented with half-truth,
from the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
Lord, deliver us we pray. amen.
--prayer from kenya

woody woodpecker and alice in wonderland are ballers.

2010-11-08T23:46:00.000-08:00

i sprawl out on the floor and drink hot tea, listening to old throwbacks on pandora.
songs from my childhood.
songs i remember fondly.
they streamed steadily, endlessly, always. streamed from the speakers in the suburban my mom drove.
streamed from the radio in the family room.
well, "the den,"rather.
we never called it a family room.
(actually, the first time i heard the term "family room" it confused me. i wondered why the family unit would denominate a room after itself in the family's own home.)

i remember the den.
it was all wooden: wooden floors, wooden bookshelves, wooden panels of wormwood.
the wormwood panels had lots of little holes everywhere...holes about the size of a wormhole you'd find in a red shiny apple.
i convinced myself as a little girl that a woodpecker must've gotten loose in our house,
flown wildly on a rampage,
ruined our walls.

and that made me mad.
so i didn't like woodpeckers much.
not only because of the walls, but also because they would wake me up early in the morning.
a lot.
i remember opening my window and yelling at the noisy birds pecking vehemently on the nearby tree.
i remember watching them fly off when i yelled; they were bewildered.
ah, the sweet nectar of victory! euphoria.

but then............. i couldn't go back to sleep.
thus,
i would go downstairs
to the den
and watch cartoons.

..although i must confess i avoided woody woodpecker. usually.

it's funny the things i remember, if i try. i remember i felt
safe,
secure,
snug as a bug in a rug.

i was snug alright. and i liked it that way.

until one day-- i don't exactly know when --things changed.
yes, things changed.
suddenly, the snugness overwhelmed me.
it constrained me.
i couldn't breathe.

i began to outgrow my surroundings.
the process? painful.
i outgrew the wormwood.
i outgrew my bed, and the many pillows with it.
i outgrew my window, the serendipitous urge to open it and scare the birds away.
i outgrew my mother's music.
i even outgrew my mother.

i outgrew it all, and FAST. it happened just like that, like when alice drank the DRINK ME bottle.

i outgrew it.
all of it.

i outgrew my home.
so i left.
i came to a place where i knew no one.
it was hard.

at first, i failed.

failure.

in failure, i got to know our god: he at his strongest, me at my weakest. ..from a place of complete and utter dependence.
i had a thirst and a need for him. for the first time, he was real.
i was humbled, i grew strong.
i am strong.
i don't know how i missed him all that time; he was there all along.
i guess i just finally heard him; not just listened. there's a difference between hearing and listening.
i felt him there, i think.
i sought him, leveled with him and wrestled with hard thoughts and shortcomings and failures and the need to control and hide and live insatiably, restlessly.
he embraced me and lifted me up: prized, full of joy and love. forgiven.

victory.

i am the reverse alice. she grew small first, then returned to her normal size at the end of it all.
i grew big, too big for my own good.
but i've taken a sip of DRINK ME potion, and i'm back to normal size.
things are not the same as they were; this is good. life is different. different in a good way.
and now, looking back, i remember.
i remember my home, and i smile.

i remember.

philippians 33- everything i've gained is worthless compared to the value of knowing christ. simply knowing him, living him.
i'm trading my life.

i am no savior.

2010-10-11T23:04:00.000-07:00

i've decided to revive my blog.
this is the first entry.
there were earlier ones, but i took them off.
i want a fresh beginning.

so this is me, in the here and now.
read at your own risk.

i don't know what this blog will look like... the dynamics will probably change from time to time.

but i like to swish it up every now and then.

nothing stays the same forever, right?

as i write this i'm sitting under the stars on my campus.

well, i can't see them.

i can really only see jupiter.

but i know they're there.

well, here's the final product:

i am no savior
i wear no belt of righteousness
no sash of prestige across my bosom
i care for no one
i am a danger to the world

in constant flux
combustible and raw
confused and bewildered
i aim to save myself
from myself

from my pride, from my ignorance
from knowing nothing, from knowing all.
being seen as a fool.
like an artist's painting i am an illusion
visible only by sight
tangible to no one

especially not the blind

i have no texture
no super powers
no depth of field or range of motion
i think in black and white.
there are rights, and there are wrongs
morals are simply something to be abided by.
i refuse to compromise
but compromise all the same

i compromise my identity
i mold to the world around me
i adapt
go through seasons, fall summer winter spring
i am day
i am night
i am hungry and i am full
but i am no savior

i used to think i could save myself.
that was my dream
i dreamt it sleeping,
i dreamt it waking,
i dreamt it all the time

i was an illusion.
nothing beyond ink on a piece of paper
flammable
rippable
cutable
waddable
...destroyable

no dimension.

i was my own savior

i cared for no one
the sun and the moon and the stars were my companions,
and constantly so.
they revolved around me
although i did not see them
probably because they were so far away
and i am only human.
they were unseeable by the naked eye,
aided only by telescopes and technology.
i, by my own limitations, did not see

but i caught a glimpse of the sun in the day.
just today it was.
and i see the moon and the stars now at night
they hang suspended in the sky
choked by light pollution from the District and its dwellers

they amaze me still.

and i wonder what they look like in a pure land
one without distraction

i wonder what they look like to the one who made them
he made them perfect
they revolve around him
and reflect his glory
his identity
his purpose
his creation

he is the savior
the savior of all
the savior of me.

i am no savior.

i am no savior!
i rejoice, i am no savior!
he saved me he saves me he will forevermore save me.
save me from myself.
from my black and white thoughts, dreams, aspirations

you give your law as a gift
it liberates
it restores
it protects
it enables
it revolutionizes

it is your love.

...but only when i surrender.

i thought i could save myself.
i thought my studies were about what i'd become
and i became afraid.
because i wasn't becoming what i wanted fast enough
or well enough.
i was in control of my own direction
traveling nowhere worth my while
it was somewhere, but it wasn't the best you had for me
before, i was a hotwheels car, the ones i collected as a little kid.
i ran them on those plastic narrow pieced-together tracks
they did lots of cool loops and went really fast
but they ran out of momentum.

i want to be propelled by someone greater than me.
by a greater engineer than me
by a greater architect than me

god, i desire for so much more!
and i know you won't stand there watching me fail
i know that the second the words
"i surrender"
cross my heart and my mind and my tongue,
you'll take over
you'll take control
and i'll be whole once again.

i'm not going to sit passively by, though
i am going to be an active participator in my life.
what do you want me to do?
who do you want me to see? to speak to? to love on?
i might try to grab the reins,
just warning you.
do you know what you're getting yourself into?
do you know how easily distracted i am?
how wishy-washy, unpredictable, emotional, narrowly focused, and potentially unstable i am?
how much of an unreliable, imperfect, uncaring, cold-hearted, self-focused pain in the ass i am? and will be?

of course you do.
sorry, i forgot.
i forgot you made me.
i forgot you made me in your image.
i forgot your image is real. and perfect. and holy. and complete.
and that mine isn't.
and that that's how it's supposed to be.

you are my savior.
i forgot you created me to glorify you.
so let me do that.
allow me to live another day full of your grace and your love.
allow me to be the moon
simply reflecting your light
..because i'll have no light of my own.
you are the sun.
and i am the moon.

i am no savior.

and i am happy.

the sky in santa fe, new mexico. (if you look really hard, you can see jupiter above the antlers. ...trust me.)