when thoughts become words

today is sunday, the first sunday in august, and the first time i've had a moment to myself in months. i cozied up with that moment, wrapped myself in its floppy arms all awkward like a prom picture, and set about to putting away the laundry i'd done the day before.


to set the scene for the thoughts you're about to read, i should tell you i'm conflicted. not the Ohmygod I'm just so sad and my life is desolate because I'm not where I want to be and it's painful and I know where I should be but I can't get there and that's the worst part! kind of conflicted, but more of the What do I freaking DO with myself now that I'm exactly where I want to be, which is where God wants me to be? I've never felt so aligned and perfectly placed in my life and I almost feel like stepping out of bounds just to mess something up and feel human again! kind of conflicted.


you know, the conflict that comes from making peace in war, from finding purpose in pain, from knowing that there's nothing good in me but there's everything good in a God who orchestrates it all.


i've been traveling around a bit lately. i've been working at my part-time internship with this great organization called DC SCORES tuesdays through thursdays, but on the weekends i've been bookin' it. went to the Outerbanks with my mom and brothers and aunt and uncle (ok well i cheated and missed work for that); to Newport Folk Festival and Boston with friends, made a pit stop in Jersey along the way; headed to NYC just 2 nights ago to see the honorable Jon Foreman put on a show, contemplated life on the Brooklyn Bridge and drove back to DC through the night; awoke and went to West Virginia yesterday morning to meet up with friends from back home.


which leads me to today, this moment, on the 8th floor, on the carpet of the Rudeshack. thinking. 
i have a question for you. when traveling, do you ever find yourself thinking Oh yes, I could see myself living here! or Holy crap, WHY would I ever subject myself to living here?! 


well i think about these things all the time, so my recent travels have been no exception. here's what i've come up with:

• i've decided i want to live in New York sometime-- soon, preferably. every time i'm in that city it calls out to me and gives me a new reason for blessing it with my presence
• i definitely never want to live in the Outerbanks; i can think of many a beach on a better coast (cough the West Coast cough) that offer a much better vibe and raw beauty 
• West Virginia is great because life is simple and slow and open, but living there would leave me unstimulated and sad
• and as great as Newport and Boston are, Newport is just a bunch of Sperry-wearing sailors and Boston gets NASTO weather in the wintertime

and then there's DC.
and this apartment, the Rudeshack.
the Rudeshack and i are going on our 3rd year together, and it's feeling like home. DC is feeling like home. DC has felt like home. but each of those places i've just mentioned, albeit some of them places i'd NEVER want to inhabit, communicate some variation of that this is home feeling to me when i'm in them.


which leads me to ponder that perhaps home isn't a place; perhaps it's something more.


perhaps Jon Foreman has it right when he sings This is Home. maybe home isn't a place on a map, and maybe it's more a place within. a place of peace and aspiration, a place of purpose and action and dreams and reckoning.
a dwelling place, in which dwells a God more personal and real and loving than i know what to do with.
come to think of it, maybe Jon Foreman said it even MORE right when he sings House of God Forever. or maybe, just maybe, i should stop stalking Jon Foreman in both the literary and the literal sense, and point out that David said it right AND said it first, when he wrote Psalm 27.

One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple. For in the day of trouble He will keep me safe in His dwelling; He will hide me in the shelter of His sacred tent and set me high upon a rock. (new int'l version, verses 4-5)

maybe home isn't a place, not yet at least, that i can find. maybe home is wherever God takes me in life, because He's with me and in me as He takes me. maybe home is wherever He is. which is a pretty beautiful thought.


i'll leave you with one final thing i created. (see below.)
i wrote it just a few minutes ago, when i couldn't stand the hum of the three air conditioning units any longer. as grateful as i am for air conditioning in this DC heat, i sure did damn those things under my breath. or maybe it was aloud; i'm not really certain, as i am home alone and i can say anything i want because no one is here to hear me!


ps.
just kidding, air conditioners. you're great! and appreciated! and loved!!!1!1


anyways. here you go. enjoy.










title: a poem, a cry


i've forgotten what silence sounds like.


HELP! CAN'T ANYONE HEAR ME!
don't leave me alone with my thoughts


but worst of all,
don't leave me alone with the souuundds


ah! why are they so amplified!


why could i never before hear the jangling of my bracelets?
why is the air conditioning unit SCREAMING at me?


I WANT TO SCREAM BACK.
i want to make a sound, ensure this isn't a dream, that i'm real, that i matter.


GET AWAY YOU DAMN THING. STOP CHASING ME INTO MYSELF.


the water faucet makes a sound?
who knew a spicket could sing.
sounds more like the screeching of a crow than a chorus of angels...
maybe i should start some music.
it will slow things down, reduce the jitters, ease the tension, provide an escape


an escape
from the sound of silence
that attacks me randomly, repeatedly, acutely
sharp and short like a blood sugar test
heavy and raw like an undercooked steak hitting an empty stomach: unchewed, hard to swallow, impossible to digest.


silence quick and relentless like an infantry on battlefield, led by cavalry and weapons and flags,
each one waving and poking and pushing at me as he passes.


I HEAR YOU GOD
I AM LISTENING


You haven't given me much of a choice have You?
okay, well.
what do You want to do? ...can You say something please? because all i hear is this pen against the paper and the creaking of the walls and the traffic down below and the wind as it rushes up against the panes, and all the while the stupid air conditioner marks time with its steady hum, making me wish i knew what key ihwe89128795#$!@5l2gye21 was in, because that's what it sounds like. making me wish i had an ear for telling what key things were in at all.


is this what You had planned?
for me to be alone,
plagued by the sound of silence and the constant Simon and Garfunkel references that phrase brings to my mind?


maybe it is.
maybe You're saying:
I AM HERE
CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?
can't you feel Me poking and prodding you to get off your sorry ass, kneel down before me, and worship me simply because 
I WAS
I AM
and I WILL ALWAYS BE?


okay, God.
ok ok ok.
i get it.
no more going through the motions, no more being surprised when you "show up."
i get it. you're shown up. you're here.
in the mundane.
full of glory and mercy, power and humility, the sweet and the savory, finality and temporality.
painfully tangible yet soothingly ubiquitous.
you're here.
i get it.
count me in.

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

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

ramblings from a scattered brain in cape town

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.

a variation of "rain on my face"

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.