reflections on a park bench in the 52 degrees February sun

“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.” ― Frederick Buechner, Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation

Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just getting by.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just being happy.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just me.

I'm thankful for the beauty around me, inside of me, running through me.
I'm thankful for my breath, for the capabilities of my mind, for the capacity for change and growth and transformation.
I'm thankful that God made us beautiful.

Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just getting by.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just being happy.
Today, I'm thankful there's more to living than just me.

Antilamentations, and thoughts on regret and pain

Antilamentation by Dorianne Laux

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don't bother remembering
any of it. Let's stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.

____________________________________________

My Antilamentation by Meredith Daniel

Those moments when you read something and can't get it out of your head.
Those moments when you read something and it trips a sensor, unlocks a door, knocks down a wall, removes a veil, triggers a memory
    a memory of pain
    or regret
    or a before-and-after image you're afraid to hang up on the wall because you like the end product         
    but not what it took to get you there

WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE PROCESS?

WHAT'S WRONG 
with the pain in crying, screaming, punching a wall?
with the pain that leaves you so numb or paralyzed you can't do any of that at all?
    raw
    broken
    sore
    shattered
    numb
    doubtful
    jaded

WHAT'S WRONG 
with the pain that fills you with nothing true? 
with lies that feel closer than a brother but nothing like a friend?
    shame
    fear
    depravity
    loneliness

WHAT'S WRONG
with a pain that makes you retreat?
scared no one will understand
    wishing they would
         knowing deep down inside they will
         knowing deep down inside there is a commonality to our human experience 
         knowing deep down inside there is a commonality to our human experience it'd be a sin to deny.


____________________________________________

This is my antilamentation. 
This is my declaration that pain is not escapable until it's valuable. Pain is not something from God or of God, nor does it send him balking or shaking in a corner. 
God has conquered pain. And fear. 
If you think our God is afraid that pain has a deadly grasp on us, or that it might separate us from Him even further or possibly forever, you are mistaken.
God is not afraid of pain.
God is not afraid of doubt.
God is not afraid of questions or anger or apathy.
God stands up to scrutiny.

I'm going to say something bold.
God uses pain to love others. God uses my pain to love others. God uses my pain to love me.
In the moments we feel the most desperate, those are the moments we glimpse what we are missing; those moments are the ones that lend our lives eternal significance. If a shadow proves the sun shines, then pain proves there is a God.

Experience your pain. 
Do not run from it, or justify it, or brush it aside as something insignificant.
It is not.
You are not.
Go through the process and experience His promises.


You have authority, and agency, and hopes and desires. Don't let pain cloud them.
Make a choice, and make that choice surrender.
Surrender, and let God prove Himself to you.
Surrender, and let Him reach out to you in your shadow.
It doesn't have to be this way.
You are not a captive.
There is nothing wrong with the process.

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 blog is for blogging

i am the Queen of Unfinished Projects. 
crown me, put me on the face of a coin, but whatever you do-- do not dethrone me.


today, however, i did finish one project: belated spring cleaning. i went through bags and boxes of belongings in my apartment and pared them down to three boxes (plus clothes). impressed? i know, don't make me blush any more than i already am. i rewarded my new Minimalist self with a pat on the back, some peach caffeine-free diet coke (who knew that existed, right?), a black bean burger (yum) and a viewing of His Girl Friday, a 1940s flick with Cary Grant in it. he's so classy.


most peoples' to-do lists probably consist of time-sensitive items: check-offable, contained, and quickly completed. my to-do lists are more abstract than concrete, more long-standing projects than quick checks. overarching, really. books i need to read. art projects i want to construct. letters i want to write. conversations to have. places to frolic. to some, this way of prioritizing may seem irresponsible, naive, fruitless. and maybe it is.


so, you see, all this makes me Queen.


a slight concession:
at this point in a post, my counterintuitive gushing usually propels me to make sense of the mess in my head, or else i risk staying still and never getting over the hump. sometimes that's why i blog: it helps me process things. historically, i'd feel it incumbent upon me at this "tipping point" moment to break out a killer quote by a super intelligent thinker, one that lends logic to my ridiculous verbiage and lays out a solid plan for rectification and action. after all, that's what the tipping point, any tipping point, requires--- does it not? you know, the conclusion: that ribbon on the package, the neat and tidy argument, the words that wrap it all up nice and pretty and make a series of inconsequential events important. 


but i can't do that, not this time. 
i can't quote another thinker, and i can't go any further.


but the thing is, i'm not stuck.
or down.
or out.


i'm ready.


i'm ready for adventure. you know, that adventure on the horizon. the one that's getting closer and closer though still all i can see is a shadow of a figure.


i'm ready for the hands of Time to tick right and tick left; counter clockwise, or not. either way they go they have no hold. life moves along, as it always has and always will. to-do's will fall into place. they'll find their way onto my calendar, and i'll find my way in a world i've come to love so dearly. all the while, i'll walk on-- knowing that now, i'm living just a prelude, an introductory movement, an overture. i'll walk on, smiling throughout the glorious prelude and into a life yet to come.


for now, i'll rejoice in the Unfinished Projects, because i'm learning i am just that: 

i am an unfinished project.

beautifully unrefined, originally crafted, and in due course, completed after years and years of pressure and shaping and molding. 

when i forget that i'm unfinished, i get caught up in the to-do's. i find myself believing satan's lies that i'm not productive enough, not solid enough, not focused enough. the worst days i have are the ones when i forget that the purpose of life is not in the living, but the dying. it's ironic, right? Christ died for me, and i live in Him only because i die to self. remembering that integral component of His holiness brings me more liberation than i ever could have imagined. 


i've hidden behind needless productivity, behind emotional stress or final papers or powerplays and pursuits. i've hidden behind those trivial to-do's.
ah, so pasé. 


modified to-do list, in no particular order and subject to change, for the new Minimalist in me:  


hike Old Rag, Half Dome
make redred
sleep under the stars
go to the moon
get a job
Bob Ross day
get pilot's license 
graduate
climb a tree
call mom




yours sincerely,
meredith

we're off to new lands, so hold on to my hands: it's easter time in GHANA

Out of Ghana's 24+ million people, 68% are Christians.


It's impossible for me to escape God in Ghana, or at least, impossible to escape mention of God. I've been preached to by screaming self-ordained reverends on 5-hour bus rides, sung to by gospel choirs in the courtyard of my dormitory. Pictures of Jesus or the Virgin Mary are everywhere: on tro-tros (large vans for public transportation), in shop windows-- I even met one man who wore a suit made out of fabric with Jesus's face all over it.


I have never seen so much Jesus at one time.


That said, knowing what I know about the typical Ghanaian's dedication to all things Christian, I figured Easter ain't no joke in Ghana.


Now, two days post-Easter, I can say with certainty that Easter is HUGE here.
It's a public holiday. All public/private universities get four days off. Everyone celebrates. Those who have the ability travel to one place: the Eastern region, arguably the most luxurious region in the country. There are mountains, oh so many mountains! The air is cool, the mosquitoes few, the roads paved and free of trash. The streets turn into one big party, causing traffic backups. The alcohol flows freely (well, not literally.. you still have to pay for it), no one works, and every one lets go of all responsibility for the occasion. Azonto (the preferred dance of my Ghanaian peers) finds its way into the streets as well, any time, anywhere. Big bandstands even hold Azonto Dance Competitions for all who think they are just THAT good at Azonto-ing. Fights break out, sometimes about trivial things, other times due to family drama. People stay up late, eat a lot of fufu and goat meat, dress up to the nines.


You know, just your typical Easter.


I spent Easter weekend at my friend Ruth's family's home in Kwahu-Pepease, a small rural town in the Eastern region, with some friends from school and Ruth's Auntie Amma-- aka the best Ghanaian cook known to man.


Timeline of events:

• FRIday: travelled to Pepease. An all day affair, on horrible roads in a big orange bus. I swear one time we hit a pot hole that sent me flying three feet up from my seat. Three feet, I tell you. It was so much fun. Held a woman's baby when she got out of the bus to pee on the side of the road. For the first time, I wasn't nervous to hold someone else's child. Victory.
• SATurday: happily ate DELICIOUS food, met lots of people and saw great sights in the mountains, went to the Paragliding Festival. Crashed a party that night. Attended Azonto competition. Took a bucket shower.
• SUNday: Easter Sunday. Awoke early, perched precariously between two options: go to church or go hiking? For those of you who know me well and know my restless tendencies even better, I think you know what I'm going to say...

I went hiking.


The way I saw it, I could either: go to church which is something I've 1) already done in Ghana and 2) done for the past 20 years of my life on Easter Sunday *OR* go find this awesome trail I learned about from a Peace Corps volunteer. In the spirit of the Ghanaian Easter, which I perceive as "anything goes," I chose hiking. (An aside-- afterward, I didn't feel bad for choosing the hike because I learned church was officiated all in local language, and it lasted like 5 or 6 hours.)


The adventure started out well enough. We caught a cab to Mpraeso, a junction the Peace Corps guy had told us to catch a ride at. But from there on, the plan failed. No one knew about this town or hike I was talking about, and the phone number we had gotten from the Peace Corps guy for directions was disconnected. We were lost. But, this one taxi driver mentioned the town of Obo and I had a good feeling about it, so we got in a taxi anyhow and to Obo we went.


We were in the taxi, driving on winding roads for a LONG time in the middle of nowhere. Though there were mountains all around and they seemed to call out to me, "Meredith, come hike me! Choose me!" there was also bush-- aka scraggly vegetation not suitable for hiking-- and Ghana doesn't exactly have parks with designated trails as America does. Thus, we were at the mercy of the cab driver and a girl in the front seat named Ludeis. Ludeis invited us to her home; she said knew of a hike near by. With no other better option and no where to be, we ended up on her front porch and met her whole family. She asked us if we wanted to go party (it was 10 A.M. haha) but we said no, we really wanted to hike...

Another aside---
This is Ghana in a nutshell. Well, this is MY experience in Ghana, in a nutshell:
NOTHING EVER ENDS UP AS PLANNED. In fact, IT ENDS UP BETTER THAN PLANNED.

Ludeis led us to none other than the Ghana Hiking Festival, a festival on top of a mountain, with a hike into a cave, that only happens once a year on Easter. I got to wear a headlamp (!!! I was sooo happy.) and hike up this huge hill using a rope. The cave was awesome and cold and so large; it was used by one thousand Ashanti warriors in the 1700s to hide from Kwahu warriors during their war for territory. After the hike, we ended up dancing tribal dances to drums, and then Azonto-ing, with random Ghanaians in the middle of a forest.
Random, you say? Such is my life.

In Ghana, there are three phrases I've picked up (among others) which I'll probably never stop saying:

1. It is finished: means something is gone, no more. Instead of saying, "We're out of beans," or "There are no more seats left in this cab," Ghanaians say, "The beans are finished," or, "This cab is finished." 
2. I am coming: used to reassure or express delay; replaces the American English phrases, "Gimme a minute," or "Wait, hold on a sec."
3. You're invited: means, "You're welcome to join" or "Help yourself." Especially used at meal times, since people customarily invite one each other to their meals. I.e., my roommate literally invites me to her meals of rice and sardines every day, even if I'm just getting out of bed and haven't opened my eyes or brushed my teeth. "Meredithhhhh, you're invited!!" is something I hear quite often. Sharing food has become normal. ..Hoorah sanitation!

The bottom line:

It is finished. Christ died for us, and rose again, offering to us undeserved grace and a reason to hope. But beyond that, He is coming. He is walking before us, and will return to this earth to bring it full-circle. And not only that, but you're invited to get in on the action; to pick up your cross, lay down your burdens, and walk confidently in the incomprehensible love of the Father. After he rose again, Jesus promised in Matthew 27.18-20:

"All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

Where are you walking? Take the first step, even if you don't have a specific destination in mind-- 'cause I assure you, He does. The Bible says we may plan our ways, but that He directs our steps. We have freedom, authority, and responsibility to walk boldly and make disciples, wherever we are.

The crazy thing is that I deserve death. You deserve death. We all do. I deserve to be six feet under. I am the chief priest, the elder, the scribe-- the one who mocked Jesus and told him to climb down off the Cross and save Himself, if he was indeed the Son of God as he claimed. I deserve death, and I always will.

But He gives me life. 

Grace is an invitation to be beautiful. We are covered by His blood, and invited to a beautiful story. I never would've thought my steps would have led me to Ghana, but here I am. Here I was, on Easter, in a cave, learning more and laughing more and loving more than I ever thought possible. 

Where is your story? He walks before us, He's established it to be. So, go.

I've learned so much while abroad that I often can't articulate it, hence the reason for not blogging since February. But if anything, Ghana has taught me that things work out. They just do. It's not luck, or coincidence, or chance. It's providence. There may be pain or confusion or miscommunication along the way, but God's walking ahead of us and there's nothing any power of this world can do to stop Him. He walks before us, constantly switching things up in His perfect way, tangling us up in a beautiful mess of dependency on Him and purpose in him and relationship through him.  

Wherever you are, celebrate. Celebrate the death and resurrection of Christ. Celebrate the new life He's given us sinners, at the cost of God's only son. Whether the Ghanaian way, the American way, the Polish Dyngus Day way, celebrate.

That is what I've learned this Easter.

co incidents.

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.

where you lead, i will follow

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

december rain

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

"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

all systems go

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.

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

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