Contemplative rain-drenched.

Pooh, acts of nature and cocoa crunchers.

2010-11-17T21:30:00.000-08:00

Contemplativeness continues. Can't shut of the contemplations long enough to watch a tv show. So I am sitting here in silence.

I have a knot in my back, longest lasting knot I've EVER had, going on a week now. No amount of hot showers, heating packs, stretching, rolling around on a tennis ball or back rubs from my sympathetic husband will kill this thing. It is a monster.

I swear it is poking me in the lungs sometimes.

Or maybe I'm just having trouble breathing.

A tree is about to fall on our car and start an electrical fire on the way down, after all. It is blustery tonight. Makes me want to watch out the window for a pooh bear to go whooshing by. I hope that someday I will have children who are just as enchanted by A.A. Milne's delightful little critters as I was and continue to be.

This is what free writing turns out to be. And my past-midnight during a windstorm head is a free-writing goldmine-a deep, rich bowl of noodles and tangents and fluffy-tailed wandering.

My husband is usually the nervous one, but he is sleeping soundly. And silently. This household does not currently snore. (tag for reference 10 years from now).

eyes are burning, I am not used to being awake this late on a weeknight. But there is little sense in giving into the sleep when every scuffle of leaves, every cracking branch and every lung-poking shift of that annoying muscle knot will wake me again. With all of these disturbances, how would I ever achieve deep REM and the fanstastical sleep world where I often wear mint green polo shirts and I know how to prevent terrorist attacks.

There is always the option of another bowl of Target-brand cocoa crunchers cereal and a half-hour spent perusing through new Facebook pictures of all of my friends cute babies. I am a cute baby Facebook stalker. Cocoa cereal does have caffeine and sugar, and that might keep me awake until the electrical company gets here to rescue our car.

Anyway.

Happy Windsday, Piglet.

The puzzling mosaic...

2010-02-27T16:27:00.000-08:00

Life has been different this year, with a very distinct shape and movement to it.

My junior year of college I arrived at my on-campus suite to discover that one of my suite-mates had developed an addiction to jigsaw puzzles over the summer. Lining the walls of the corridor were about twenty puzzles, glued and matted to boards and hung for all to see. I remember a picture of a giant panda chewing on bamboo. You would walk by it (oh, that's cute), and then stop and realize (ah, much more interesting) that each puzzle piece was a different picture of a chinese fan, strategically arranged by their colors. Alongside that very cool panda print were several less-exciting kitten in basket, puppy running through the field variety puzzles. Some art prints. One or two that were almost all ocean or sky, with very little color variance, that would lead anyone who has ever spent time doing puzzles to appreciate the intense patience and concentration (or, I suppose, thorough boredom) needed to complete such a project. And still, beyond all of the the completed masterpieces, was the large wicker basket in the living room, stashed and overflowing with boxes of future jigsaw challenges. That was the year my roommate Kiki tried to bring back the lost and under-appreciated art of the puzzle.

That very summer after living in the land of jigsaw puzzles, I went to spend teaching dance in Massachusetts. For three weeks of my time there I lived with a lovely, petite, blonde South African woman. She was an inquisitive and overwhelmingly hospitable hummingbird of a person. She was an artist. Her art-studio garage was one of the most exciting spaces I have ever seen in a house. With the paint splattered cement floor and shelves teetering under the weight of buckets, easels, paints, pottery and just about every material needed for unbounded creativity, it actually gave me butterflies in my stomach when I walked in. (I very clearly recall that glorious room filled with the deep murmur of new, unique, and beautiful. That swirling warm-cool-warm of time and labor and imagination. Ahh, I love it.)

While I was there, my artist-hostess was working on a project outside of the studio. For almost a year she had been collecting. The front entryway of the house was crammed with plastic milk crates full of pottery tiles. She got almost all of them for free, lucky discoveries in dumpsters and roadsides. The expanse of brick that made up the base of the large covered front porch of her home was to be a mosaic of a hillside horizon. She vividly described to me the way you see the different colors and clarity of the rolling hills as they fade into the distance from close up, all the way to the wavy skyline stretching out beyond. A porch-wide panoramic view of one of her favorite sights.

So, she organized the colors and textures of the tiles. She stacked them. She went to work with a chisel and hammer, carefully breaking up larger pieces to smaller, or simply shaping them to use in more dominant, wide-expanse areas. Many mosaics are made up of pieces that are all the same shape, simply varying in color. I loved hers, though, because the pieces were both big and small. It was unpredictable. She glued them up and then slowly and deliberately filled in the cracks with grout, smoothing and shaping her picture as she went.

Well, this past year has been large pieces. I got engaged, moved back to the states, planned a wedding, worked a new job, adjusted back to my home culture, got married, drove 1500 miles across the US with my new husband to the tiny, slanty, New England apartment where we have begun our lives together.

And now I am here.

And sometimes, I'm not really sure what happened.

And maybe tomorrow will be a small piece with a picture of a bright green chinese fan.

From my little corner of the world.

2009-02-16T13:12:00.001-08:00

Ars Escuela de Música y Danza. (school of music and dance, and Ars is latin for creativity, though perhaps to english ears it does not sound so lovely).

Four claustrophobic little music classrooms and a dance classroom with a scuffed wooden floor and smudged, uneven wall mirrors. There are glaring fluorescent lights and a heating and air conditioning system that leaves every room either sweat-dripping hot or joint-stiffening cold.

It falls a bit short of glamorous.

It is simply where I am, most days, for hours on end.

It is my little world, which I have realized anew, fits me like a glove (one of those 3 dollar stretchy ones that come in every possible color, but sometimes doesn't come all the way to your knuckles on every finger).

I am sitting and trying my hardest to form a bunch of numbers into a spreadsheet...I am always easily distracted during such tasks...when through the air and also through our supposedly soundproof walls (umm, who did we pay for that job?) drifts a hauntingly beautiful piano piece. Then I hear the distinct high pitched exclamation of a teacher who is seeing the reward for their labors. So I slip out of the office into the entryway just outside of the classroom of a teenage piano student, Maria.

Slowly, doors to some of the music rooms begin to open as people are drawn by the melody to the classroom. People begin surrounding the piano and peering over shoulders in the doorway. She keeps playing...her teacher, Isabel, is bursting with pride and slipping in little comments to her student as fingers glide over the keys.

As the song finishes and the "audience" cheers for this accomplished teenager, I pause to take it all in. Maria's face is flushed from deep concentration and all the compliments that follow. Across the hall there is the resonant zip of the strings from the electric guitar class, it is almost overpowered by the loud stomping of the nail-soled flamenco shoes against the floor of the dance classroom, though their force is softened by the accompanying sweet clack of the castanets.

Our little school is filled with people who cannot stay away.

it is Art.

Creativity and beauty, hard work and accomplishment. Art can seem so frivolous, somewhat dispensable, when in truth it is completely intrinsic and necessary. It very much is. Why on earth would people pay so much money for piano lessons in the middle of a crashing economy? Why would a middle aged woman sign up for ballet classes for the first time in her life? Not because they will necessarily learn a trade that will help them pay the bills. Not because they will all leave professionals.

They do it because they simply must.

I absolutely love this. Taking in this picture of our little academy, I could feel my heart beat a little more clearly in the sweet recognition of that fact.

Mopping the floors, doing administrative work, answering phones...the majority of my hours are absorbed in the mundane. But then, these banal hours are so clearly outweighed by the satisfying moments I find watching my little girls master a lovely arabesque, losing myself in the rich movement of my modern dance class, or crowding into the little classroom in order to witness the impromptu piano recital.

So, I am feeling a little sentimental about it all. (hey, I'm an artist...) I can't help but believe we should all have these moments in our life. Find our little corner of the world and find contentment in that. Be inspired by what we spend our hours on, inspired enough to write such a sappy blog about it.

Maybe it will help to reread this tomorrow when I am not able to focus on those spreadsheets...?

airplane scramblings...

2008-12-18T11:47:00.000-08:00

I still haven’t slept. I am writing this from the plane. I am listening to Amos Lee and getting shivers from the incredible orange horizon stretching out over the clouds. The sun is setting and the clouds are so thick it looks like a perfect snow covered field covering as far as the eye can see.

The guy giving me the “international security interview” before I boarded the plane seemed much more intrigued by the idea that this American girl had been living in Spain for three years and was teaching dance there than he was in the fact that someone had asked me to carry an unmarked package onto the plane and say it was mine.

Sleep would be nice.

Another milemarker, I suppose. I am on yet another trans-atlantic flight, winging my way towards the Tracy homestead in the peaceful United states Midwest. Spent a few hours in Holland this morning. Very nice, ate some interesting food. I love trying out the food in European countries, as it is not usually drastically different from what I am used to, but just distinct enough to be interesting.

As we are stopping over in Memphis, I am just thankful I am not stuck sitting next to the southern frat boys I encountered at the gate. I saw them. I heard them. I had that unnerving annoyance well up inside of me, as it never seems to fail that fate has placed us in the same row on that HUGE plane.

Phew, relief. I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. They were just going to “dude, drink a beer or a shot first thing and get so f*%#ing wasted”

Lovely.

I am dressed like a total spaz today. I play this game with myself when I travel through other European countries, trying to not be pegged as an American. Today I wore a semi-ridiculous outfit, partially because I was up so late packing last night that I forgot to take into account that I would need to wear something today.

No good movies on the plane today. I might need to pop a few antihistamines to force myself to sleep. I know I must be tired. I really only slept one hour. It felt more like when you fall asleep in class with your head propped up on your hand and then suddenly your head drops and knocks itself out of your palm and you wake up in abrupt agony.

That’s what the alarm clock did to me this morning. Knocked my head out of my hand and sent me hurtling into a long and goopy day of exhausted journeying.

Put shave gel in my hair this morning in the shower. At least I didn’t fall asleep in there and drown.

I would rather be on top of the world.

2008-09-08T00:45:00.000-07:00

If I seem distracted, it's because most of the time, in my head, this is what I am doing.
If not, well, then it's what I want to be doing.

Uciekać

2008-08-28T06:49:00.000-07:00

that's all I needed to do. Ratować się ucieczką...everything.
How do you say "supreme lethargy" in Polish?

I can remember the last time I ever sat and watched a TV show in hour-long marathons. August. It only happens in August.

Fans blasting.

Shades drawn.

Patrick Dempsey is saving lives.

We like it when Patrick Dempsey saves lives.

Despite the beautiful lethargic hours and the gallon of Pasión de Café ice cream in the freezer, I am excited to go back to work in the coming days.

My muscles are going to atrophy if I don't.

Plus, I have read some new thoughts, been inspired by countless hours of new music, picked the brains of both new and long-time friends, climbed to gorgeous heights with awe-inspiring views, penned many new chapters and verses and ramblings of my brain, and because of all that...

I feel ready to jump in to both creating and creatively instructing again.

So I say today.

Ask me again tomorrow.

Things making me smile at this moment:

-A gigantic king james reference Bible

-Wearing hand-me-down clothes

-my roomate's baking impulses

-Subject-O-Matique

-my Polish heritage

-drinking something with the word "spritzer" in the title

-savoring the last few days of 25-ness

-the cinematic orchestra

Home is where the hacking birds are...

2008-08-07T23:42:00.000-07:00

There are these birds that sound like smokers with emphysema perched in the tree outside my kitchen window. Someone should have warned them when they were younger.
Sunlight and cool morning air streams into the flat and I am smiling, thinking about my first cup of coffee for the day.

God knows I usually think of coffee first, and I think He's okay with it, so I try to fill the spaces of my mind that are unconsumed by café with prayers.

There's still a few boxes unpacked, a few pictures not yet hung and my bed is covered with an eclectic assortment of things I don't have a place for yet.
Even amidst this clutter and settling, friendships, conversation and laughter filled the hours until 3am. Girlfriends curled up on big couch cushions, with iced drinks clinking in glasses and topics ranging through all things we females discuss at these hours.

And, in that, I'm home.

(What is up with those poor birds, can I give them a throat lozenge or something?)

I care not for consistancy...

2008-07-28T01:35:00.000-07:00

I am motivated by change.
This is why I am not very motivated right now. Monday morning, I find myself sitting at the reception desk in our school, answering phones and writing emails (okay, so I'm pausing to write this) again.... Another week of work, more work than before, now that I'm looking around and taking inventory.
I have always known that I thrive on change, that's nothing new. But I have realized that without change I can grow very apathetic.
That's probably no good.
Next week I am moving for the sixth time in two and a half years. I want to think that a new apartment will be enough change to motivate me a little more. I have this idea that it will inspire me. I will want to cook, write, and draw again. Maybe I'll go back to practicing the guitar. I need my creativity to be refreshed, because this past year and summer session sucked quite a bit out of me. Even though I am not going home, or traveling anywhere (because I have no money...) I am forging heavy battle against my pessimistic tendencies (my mother would be so proud) so I can step into August and the coming school year in expectancy and hope.

Is it alright to need change like that? I just don't foresee myself ever not needing it so badly...

7:30 am, Madrid, Bus 65...

2008-07-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

I was craning my neck looking for “For Rent” signs whilst riding bus 65 to work this morning when I discovered something.
If you stretch your gaze towards the peaks of tall buildings while winding through narrow streets on public transportation (or private transportation, I suppose) and you allow the sun to catch your face for just a second before you inevitably squint your eyes…for just that split-second there is an amazing metaphorical sensation.
It captures perfectly the perspective from which I find myself viewing the world and my personal circumstances as of late.
Swirling and bending, looming tall above me, but also thoroughly surrounding me on all sides, this season has me feeling slightly dizzy and so very small, tucked deep inside of something much more profound and expansive than I would like to acknowledge.

So much of my life right now is wildly out of control. Wildly out of my control, that is. I could list all the areas of my existence that have suddenly taken flight and started soaring around me, taunting my human need for containment and understanding, but it is not necessary. Suffice it to say they are all pretty substantial.

My reaction to this season has been to draw everything into an intense thought life, rolling stuff around my brain until I go crazy. I guess I assume my brain can handle stuff that my emotions could not. Being both female and artistic, my nature lends itself to reacting to everything with feelings, and so I guess I have given more credit to dealing with things intellectually than is actually due. Neither one works completely.

A very wise mother as well as a very dear friend has been just the right human voice to talk me out of this dizzy and floating intellectual wrestling match.

Today I embraced that which has been made tangible. My cute little campers, music, dance, laughter, a mop and broom, perfectly ripe cherries, friendship…

As for the rest, well, sometimes you just have to let your head fall back and let the world swirl around you as you give into the all-knowing and all-encompassing guidance of the Creator of this journey.

Can you die from lack of solitude?!

2008-07-01T01:03:00.000-07:00

It’s going to be a long month, folks. Only two days into this schedule and I am fairly certain I will not survive. Could be a close call.
Working from 7 am to 11 pm, children's camp all morning and hours of adult dance classes all evening, (with little more than 45 minutes to eat midday) = not our best idea. Period.

And for me, the most frustrating part is not so much tiredness, as it is being absolutely, completely surrounded by people all day. I start to grow edgy and irritated if I can’t find a moment of solitude. It’s ridiculous, I tell you. Even in the bathroom I can hear them outside asking where I am, because I need to find a list or make a phone call or answer a question. I realize I come off looking like a jerk, because I blame it on tiredness when I am short with someone, and I know that we’re all working the same schedule, so what right do I have?
I mean, is it ever okay to say to someone: “Well, I am actually not just tired, and you’re really great and all, but you have got to stop talking, go away and leave me in peace before I start to have nervous spasms”?

Please tell me that it is okay, because my only other option is to run away. And since I am already planning on trying that option out tomorrow and this weekend, I will be in need of a plan B.

Haha…there’s something so pathetic about so much whining coming from the person that works her job “for the relationships she builds with people” (direct quote from my job description). I wonder if I am fulfilling that line in my contract before or after I tell them to shut up and leave me alone…?

I hope and want to believe that there has got to be some grace, even for the most irritable of introverts…sigh.

1 o’clock am. I am finally alone, and here I am writing to a mass of people.

And I don’t even have Internet and won’t be able to post until tomorrow. What is wrong with me?
Nevermind.

Sticking out the gross days...

2008-06-25T15:45:00.000-07:00

I hate, hate, hate, driving in this city. I actually don't care for driving in general, but I really hate getting lost in Madrid. (and with gas at obscene prices these days, who needs to be driving for hours around rotundas and up little side streets without hope of ever becoming un-lost?)

Today was Jessica to the rescue day. I had to force myself to do some things I don't feel comfortable with, because emergency struck our little school today. (again...)
I got a call from my boss as I was getting on the train, I could barely hear him, and I had to hang up and call back several times before I deciphered his weak plead, that he was practically unconscious on the side of the road, and could I please go get the other car and find him?
Luckily he came to enough to call an ambulance, because I was not going to make it to him with the other car for at least an hour. Plus, he couldn't even tell me where he was.

That was the start of my day. I went to the accountant, got last minute legal documents in order and mailed out (hopefully all signed and stamped as they need to be) went wandering all over to find the abandoned car, drive it to the hospital to pick up my boss, and get back to the school. Oh, I also taught a modern dance class in there somewhere.

I feel compelled to stay up typing this story (in spite of supreme exhaustion) because it verifies the basis of my decision to stay on for another year. I am needed here, and as a wise friend recently quoted to me: "My calling is wherever my greatest gift fills the greatest need."
I don't need to go make a need for myself somewhere else, I need to fill the gap I see right here.
Even though it is not at all appealing on days like today. Or when I am feeling restless and wanting change. Or when I am lonely and missing my family.
I think there are good things in store for sticking out the gross days like today.

Desperation and real estate.

2008-06-10T02:00:00.000-07:00

I am afraid I might have to move...again. It was all so good, after a long summer of living alone in the outskirts of a city where I knew practically no one, and two months of imposing on dear friends in my state of homelessness, I finally found a place to settle. A really great place.

Eeeeshhh, I am already dreading the apartment hunt. It is NOT a fun pastime, let me state for the record.
I hope and pray it will just occur. The apartment will be found and I will be all moved in with Leah and maybe Mariana, without incident or desperate times of wandering through more of Madrid's hell-holes (valued at 900 euros a month, including moldy ham leg left on counter and permeating aroma of said ham).

I'll keep this updated.

Ahhhh...

2008-04-12T01:32:00.000-07:00

Well, Jessica officially loves the south of France. I figured that would be the case.
Last week was the Euroretreat 2008, in Montpelier, on the Mediterranean coast of France.

I was a bit of a mess when I got there, and it took me a couple of moody walks on the beach and a nice long sleep to shake it off. It didn't help that I only slept one hour the night before, and sat in the Barcelona airport for 8 hours waiting for all my traveling buddies from La Coruña to arrive. Yet, when they did, it was like going home. Man, I miss them all so much.

What an intense week. I wrestled with the really messy details of my life and begged people wiser than me to help me answer the questions. It wasn't easy or anything, but when all was said and done, I felt free and ready to move forward. Thank God for these people who are so incredible, there are no words.
I got thousands of hugs from Sophia, co-lead a spontaneous dance party, shared in introducing people new to the wonderful brand of humor that is "The Office", and savored way too much cheese and wine. I met some new peeps from 5101, cool, great people from the Chicago offices.

And the trip home? Well, Andy rented a car and Nate, Sean and I got to drive with him all the way down the Mediterranean coast of France to Barcelona. We stopped one last time in France to eat, (I ate raw beef...it was not good) and got out of the car frequently to take pictures and walks and enjoy the journey to the fullest. Nate took me for a ride around Barcelona on the moto, (I'm not so scared in a city that is primarily bikes and pedestrians) and I even got to see Rebecca for a bit. All in all, I came home a bit lighter inside...possibly heavier outside from all the cheese and pastries, but it was worth it.

Too many homes...

2008-01-15T12:24:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking about home lately. It is not that I don´t have a home, it is that I have many homes. I will eventually have an eternal home, but who knows when that will be? Sooo, in the meantime, I am deciding between the two countries I live in, the US and Spain, or maybe somewhere new altogether.

When I am here (Madrid) I am happy, and want to be here. When I am there (states) I am happy and ready to move back. It is frustrating to live overseas, I won´t lie. Everything is 10 times harder than it really needs to be, and I long for familiarity. But, every day has a bit of adventure to it and life is seldom mundane. Ya gotta love that...

I know that if I were to move back stateside, I would miss it here like crazy. I wouldn´t be able to remember how frustrated I used to get and why I ever wanted to come back in the first place. But it sure would be nice to not have to misunderstand and be misunderstood every day. (I am talking more about cultural differences than language at this point, because understanding the language does not = understanding the people and their ways, it really doesn´t)

It sure would be nice to be able to drive and visit my family, or hop on a plane and be there in a couple hours instead of fourteen.

Gosh, I suck at making decisions. Maybe I´ll just move to another country all together. You know, home is here, home is there, maybe I shoulsn´t live at home.

That doesn´t make any sense, but then neither does my life at this time.

Having a fun two weeks showing my cousin Hannah around my Spanish hometown and realizing that I have amazing people that I love and who love me in both of my homes, and for that I am thankful.

I don´t need more than that for the moment.

World Record Transitioner

2007-06-02T12:22:00.000-07:00

I am getting to be a professional at this transition stuff. I am setting packing and unpacking records left and right. One hour today to unpack all my stuff and settle into my new flat. Took me only three hours to pack it all up in the States.
Maybe this will be the last major transition for a while, how great would that be?

Walked around to explore the new neighborhood today, starting to get used to the idea of being a "Madrileña" now. This city is exciting and diverse and I could find something new to see and do every night if I wanted.
Jet lag is hitting me a little weird this time. I fought the tiredness this afternoon so that I would be able to sleep tonight, and I now find myself completely wide-awake. Ughh, I hope this tea I have been drinking isn't caffeinated. Is white tea caffeinated?

Pretty much just anxious to jump into things, though…
Here's to diving into the thick excitement of unending possibility...cheers? salud?
Sure.

3 AM

2007-04-08T03:00:00.000-07:00

t's 3 AM on my last night in La Coruña. I am too high-strung to sleep right now. In a minute I will go finish my laundry and close up my suitcase, and climb into the bed in this tiny, old spanish apartment that has become home.
It is such a weird mix of sadness, and nervousness and excitement and anxiousness and exhaustion. At this stage of the game, a lot more sadness. Makes me want to never get attached, never grow to love anyplace or anybody.
I am trying to find that independant- follow-God-with-abandon Spirit I once felt like I had. It has gotta be in there somewhere, right?
Gotta get some sleep.
I have a long drive tomorrow.

We'll just wait and see how the next two months go. Keep walking, eyes open, but you can close them sometimes.
I think I will go and force those eyes closed.

Dear childhood Jessica,

2007-02-06T12:20:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have those startling moments when you realize you are a grown up?
I had one walking past a window downtown yesterday. Just out of the blue, caught my reflection in a travel agency window, and had the realization that A) I am an adult now and B) I am nothing like I ever imagined I would be when I was a child.
Did you ever try and imagine yourself as a grown up?
I always pictured myself as a mom in the 1980's. Chin length mom-haircut, big shoulderpad sweater, driving around a station wagon with two kids. I would talk on the phone to all my other mom friends and we would get together for potlucks and bible studies.
Kind of a weird picture, but I apparently thought time (and fashion) would stand still and I would turn into my mother. (though we never did have a station wagon...I always wanted one) This is when I was 7 or 8.
At age 15-16, I could not imagine life past college. My whole world revolved around that light at the end of the high-school tunnel...go towards the light...go towards the light...
Graduating from college I was not thinking so far down the road, I believe I was more interested in just FINDING the freaking road and getting on it.
Alright, so I found the road and I am on it, though I am not sure where it is going and the road signs are few and far between, I am traveling on the road.

All this is just to say, that somewhere in the middle of all that, I turned into an adult.
And it really sneaks up on you, grown-uphood.
Because nothing in life is predictable, and you just want to have some warning or some idea of what to expect, I find myself very thankful that there are no shoulder-pad sweaters or station wagons available and that I live in a country with no concept of the "potluck dinner",
because I might be tempted to make my childhood dream come true...beware the chin-length-mom-haircut!!

Dear childhood Jessica:
You will not be like you are picturing. Don't worry, though, it turns out a thousand times better!
Sincerely (no, really)
Adult Jessica

P.S. Stop letting your mother perm your hair, I think all those chemicals will fry your brain just a little and as an adult you will find yourself constantly boarding the wrong bus and wasting hours riding around the city in the wrong direction...

Divinity and the city bus

2006-12-11T22:00:00.000-08:00

As I boarded the big blue city bus today to head into town and buy a Christmas tree, Joan Osborn's "If God was one of us" was starting up on the overhead radio.
This past summer I read "The DaVinci Code" (about two years after all the hype died down) and last night out of curiosity, rented the movie. Of course, the movie cut out a ton and changed the rest... One part I don't remember from the book had me thinking as I walked downtown today.
At the end of the movie, after they have deduced that Sofia is actually from the bloodline of Jesus Christ, she is "sangreal"...Tom Hank's character says something along the lines of "Maybe we don't have to deduce whether or not Christ was divine...Maybe there is divinity in humanity"
Well, while I believe that the book is based on...nothing substantial I also believe that Christ was divine. All this is not where I am coming from.
If you want to read an angry defense over this book, go to your local Christian bookstore. A lot of close-minded nuts have written books in contradiction and defense.
(many without having actually read the book they are angry about...when I say read, I don' t mean "scour looking for points to back your argument up")

My point is about divinity and humanity.
The reason I was feeling so strongly as I heard Joan sing her song on the bus this morning is because of Christmas.
"O come, o come Emmanuel" is, to me, what it is all about. Everything.
Remembering how long the world waited for God to come, to save.
Remembering that we are not alone, that God is with us, Emmanuel.
That God has come to us, saved us, and is making us holy. We are redeemed. We are of Christ's lineage, in a way stronger than blood. He chose us and paid the highest price.
Ironically, the song I listened to this morning talks about "the stranger on the bus" (you all know it...) and what I always try to do when I ride the bus is really see the people I am riding with.
There is the image of divinity in humanity.

(and I found a Christmas tree for three euros...it is a sad little tree that I like because it looks like Charlie Brown's)

haha...I am listening to "Come on, let's boogey to the elf dance!" on Sufjan's 42 song Christmas compilation, phenomenal :)

For letting go...

2006-11-28T10:22:00.000-08:00

"Knowledge is the season for knowing when and why....balances and reasons keep me from the fire...and every time I'm placed within a perfect role...people come and go, people come and go, people come and go...
Fire can be friendly, raising perfect pain...burning off tomorrow and yesterday the same...to always be so weak, and never want to know...you know we come and go, you know we come and go, you know we come and go..."

Me Died Blue
By Steven Delopoulos

My best melancholy.

2006-10-18T21:38:00.000-07:00

October 2006
The air tonight was clean, original and exquisite. Autumn means something significant to me, something filled with symbolism and poetry. It’s as though everything becomes increasingly emotional, more intensely felt, and, to me anyways, thoroughly melancholy.

Watching the dusty thick sweep of the sunset this evening as the day slipped below the brooding wisp of midnight black that surrounds me now, I could feel my thoughts and imagination settle into a big, comfy chair with a cup of coffee, hoping to spend the next few months enveloped in their favorite mood.

Because life deserves to feel like this. Deep and cool, everything suddenly changed for good with one crisp wind.

Chilled Irony with a side of apple cider

2006-10-04T15:42:00.000-07:00

The kind of day where you have to slide open the office window.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, lean back in to make a sarcastic comment to your co-workers.

It smells like fall, the kind of afternoon where I could do something or nothing. I suppose, that since I am writing this, I am doing nothing. But I am on the verge of something. I really am.

Buy some chocolate, and some apples. Make those phone calls, step in every dried leaf along the walk back home.Practice the guitar. Study my Spanish. Keep up with my ballet. Never stop learning. It feels humble and good to still be learning.

I haven't made my bed today, and ten o'clock in the morning feels earlier and earlier. But then, so does midnight.

A little bit more..of that apple cider..from yesterday would be deightful,..so would a walk to the beach. Maybe I will give in to both...

I have to recommend this movie: "Everything is Illuminated" I laughed..very hard. But it's beautiful at the same time. It's a good one.

For the love of Ham and this is all Steve Irwin's fault...

2006-09-17T04:25:00.000-07:00

Barcelona.

Most unlikely couple: Walking hand in hand. He was wearing a shirt that said "I cut Scalps Off" She was wearing a shirt that said "Everyone needs Music"...

We got hopelessly lost and had to be transferred by airport security back through the point of no return to retrieve our luggage. The cause of the whole ordeal: the crocodile hunter, of course. I was telling Rebecca that he had passed on, (and she didn't believe me) and recounting how I found out whilst we were walking through the secure exit without our suitcases. In short: Two type Bs don't make a Type A.

Walking through downtown Barcelona at night I thought I had unwittingly stumbled upon the red light district. I saw a building with neon lights in the shape of legs flashing all over. Upon closer inspection, though, I found them to be not legs of exotic dancers, but rather, legs of ham. Sexy Ham. It was a carniceria. Butcher shop. The Spaniards do love their ham though...

New laws for tourists prohibit the entrance of robotic poodles in public parks. Finally, a law I can get on board with.

And here's the bottom line:

In the midst of so much ridiculous (which does make life and travels rather delightful)
I have seen beauty.

Madrid and Barcelona are the most diverse cities. Everyone from everywhere. The languages swirled around me, the faces all so different. We walked el paseo maritimo and parc guille together, myself with all these strangers. You can see the Creator in the creation. Whether it was watching the sun dip into the Mediterranean sea or being shoved into a cattle-car like subway, He can be seen.

And the next life step for me is a very exciting one. I almost always stumble into these things and find that God was leading me unaware the whole time. The dream is more reality every day.

I might need another cafe americano.

he DaVinci Code, Sushi, New Orleans, El Silbedor, and Lorena

2006-08-30T11:09:00.000-07:00

So here's what I know:
The big 24 comes in three days...yikes.
I miss my family and the IRS. We always have smashing birthday festivities.

On Sunday I wasn't really with the program...kind of caught up in myself and all my junk. Then a teenager named Lorena walked into church for the first time and sat next to me.
With that, I remembered what we really exist for.

I haven't read a newspaper in maybe over a month. I am ignorant as to what's going on out there. Except I know Spain finally decided to get involved in Lebanon. And that they are dancing on the streets of New Orleans again.

I kind of wish summer would just end already.
Madrid and Barcelona in just two weeks baby! To bad I have so many life decisions to make, no?

About two years after everybody, I am reading The DaVinci Code. He's not all that great of a writer, really. But it's entertaining, despite his use of ridiculous metaphors and redundant words and large words that I know he found in the thesaurus and are not part of anyone's vocabulary. (that was a huge run-on...I never said I was that great of a writer)

Anyone want to send me some new books?

Made some sushi yesterday. Thank God for delicious Japanese cuisine.

I hope you guys aren't suffering from the incessant annoyance of a whistler.
He's lucky we don't have a pistol en nuestra casa.

All in all, life has been, to quote my friend and accomplice Rebecca, "very silly lately..."

2006-08-09T21:45:00.000-07:00

Went sailing with the Germans. Yes I did.

And when I say "sailing" I really mean IN A TALL SHIP! Not unlike a pirate ship, actually. But they were not German pirates (that would have been cool though)

So, I went down to meet my friend Veronica for a coffee and to catch up because we haven't seen each other all summer, and somehow I wind up sailing around La Coruna in the hugest (yes, HUGEST is the word) boat I have ever sailed on. It was sooo incredible.
I love when you are just living life and all of a sudden find yourself with the wind against your face and the crisp sea water gently misting you and Germans yelling out sailing commands all around you. I really do.

I am still feeling a little sway, hours later.

(Oh, and to explain a little: All these tall ships from all over Europe are in my beautiful port City of La Coruna for a Tall Ship Regatta. They are sailed by teenagers who do this six week program to learn teamwork and sailing. They race in like six or seven cities that they sail between. Veronica (my friend) has connections with one of the German ones.)

Best day of the week, maybe the month. Hands down.
Do you know those moments when you feel so alive?

November Table Game

2006-08-05T02:41:00.000-07:00

I am doing better. I am doing great, really, when I think about it. So I decided to take from Colleen and Thanksgiving tradition (I know it's only August, but I won't have Thanksgiving here in Spain, so I'll play today)
Here are 10 good things:

1. I walk everywhere.

2. I live on the Atlantic coast for the first time in almost 9 years.

3. I have an amazing, beautiful, quirky family...and I love them a ton.

4. I am learning the words to Spanish music on the radio...I have songs that I know (though they are stupid, awful pop songs, this is an exercise in bettering my spanish)

5. Milca lent me her bicycle while she is in Venezuela

6. I am staying in Rob and Nancy's apartment while they are gone, and today I am baking scones.

7. Last night I made balloon animals (something I have only ever done in European countries...) and I learned how to say clown in spanish (payaso...)

8. It's the Festivo Maria Pita, and there are all these free shows...Flamenco this weekend!

9. I am going to Madrid and Barcelona "on business" next month with Rebecca

10. I spend each monday at the beach alone with my thoughts, some good music and a bottle of sunscreen.

The long hot walk.

2006-08-01T18:27:00.000-07:00

So, I am laughing at two things. First of all, my friend Nate gave me two seasons of Lost, which I have never watched before and am now completely sucked into. Pathetic. Okay, so funny in how pathetic it is. I knew that would happen.

Also, I am feeling so strangely guilty these days. ¨False guilt¨ is what it´s called when it´s guilt over things besides sin. I mean, not that I don´t sin. But what I am feeling guilty about all the time is stupid. And yet I continue to feel like this. So I´m laughing in a sort of nervous concern for my state of being.

What the heck is wrong with me? You know when you are walking a long way outside and lugging heavy stuff and it´s like a thousand degrees with no wind and you are dripping sweat and all of a sudden you look up to see how far to your front door, realize it´s ridiculously far and then trip and fall down, dropping all your stuff and scraping up your legs?

I am not saying this has happened (well, it probably has...) but that sometimes lately, life has felt like this.

But not always. Just sometimes. Sticky, and painful and overheated and exhauting. Irritating.

Be that as it may, I truly am trying to be content here.

I have several big decisions to make...and soon. And I hate making decisions. In the past, God has just kind of let everything fall into place and I just keep walking and find myself in these places.

I really am trying to hope that that happens this time too. Because I suck at making decisions.

Like right now, I have to decide whether to give into the exhaustion and go watch a couple episodes of Lost, or go work on some projects for work.

We´ll see what happens.

I miss Hot Tamales. Spain doesn´t have very good candy, I must tell you the truth.

Calm...or something like it.

2006-07-20T11:56:00.000-07:00

I live in a crazy calm. I meander through the day (and you, my dearest friends will know that I truly mean ¨meander¨ ) and just below the surface God is working. And it usually is this whispering fade of life and changes and beauty and struggle that He pours into my days and being, but then once in a while, I unwittingly find myself standing on a cliff overlooking a beautiful but tumultuous sea as the gales of opportunity, change, fear, excitement and wonder gust over and through me.

You know, when you feel so filled up inside you just need to dance like a crazy person, or squeal like an eleven year old, or roll down a really huge hill like the one in the Princess Bride, or sleep for a year because you are so exhausted by emotion?

Yeah...maybe this is all a little vague. But I am in this place. Just a little undefined.

And right now I am enjoying amazing Italian brewed coffee, and the wee early hours of a lazy day (it´s the crack of noon) and this really great long black layered Spanish skirt that I found (it´s rebajas time) and poetry by Rainer Maria Rilke floating around en mi mente, and more than anything, the arms of God wrapped tightly around my existance.

A day of nothing, or something like that.

2006-07-17T23:28:00.000-07:00

11:28 PM
It was my day off today. I rode a bike down to la playa de Santa Cristina, ate lunch at a little patio table, bought 2 liters of water, my first Spanish magazine and spent the day relaxing.
I watched a movie and went shopping to try and find a birthday present for Dustin.
I also made an internal and written vow to add discipline to my life and an even more resolute vow to obedience. It wasn’t just a day of nothing, I suppose. I wonder about myself and tomorrow, though…

Alright, Already...

2006-06-30T02:37:00.000-07:00

Okay...Whew, what a whirlwind of life!
Paris finally let me in. So I went. Can I just comment on the Madrid airport? The first five minutes it reminded me of the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Very whimsical...but then it became a nightmare...I was so irritated.
But, whatever. Made it into Paris. Which ended up being just the therapy I needed to recover....let me tell you:

So, I went for an arts and culture conference. Incredible...met the most amazing people, had gorgeous conversations, heard words that inspired and challenged, and felt my heart thud, and wrench and grieve and rejoice.
Okay, so I am a little emotional. (nothing new there)
Sunday morning, as we worshiped in the oldest Baptist church in Paris with voices singing French and English (and Spanish...I couldn't help it) melded together and steeped the air with praise, echoing off high beams and stained glass, God spoke to me in that hushed soul whisper.
And I know exactly what these words mean to me, and I am a little shaken by all that is happening and all that is to come.
But it is good.
Paris, ahhhh, sweet bliss! It even rained for me on Sunday! Made some new friends and talked them into a trip to the Eiffel Tower in the rain at night. They have this light mechanism that makes it "twinkle" for ten minutes on every hour.
We ate chocolate mousse and talked about all we had absorbed and were still trying to absorb from the gathering of artists with more vision and passion than can fit into one week.

If you are wanting to hear more, please write me. I cannot begin to describe all that has happened, not in this blog.

Yeah. Oh, and I lost my cell phone on the subway and freaked out my co-workers here and my family. They called my cell phone while it was lost and this French dude answers. But he did meet me at the train station to return my phone. My only source of contact with the world. I hate it...
Anyhow.
God takes care of us, no? Oui...Si...Yes...

New Earth

2006-06-11T22:23:00.000-07:00

All you in Kansas City (and some Waterdeep fans outside) will appreciate this...I am in ¨New Earth¨coffeehouse in Santiago de Compostela, Spain...

It´s actually called ¨Terra Nova¨which is Gallego (the regional dialect of Galicia) for New Earth....

Nate is playing the hammer dulcimer here and there is a new artist displaying her paintings.

It feels like home.

Mediterranean Waters

2006-04-09T10:11:00.000-07:00

I'm in Barcelona for an incredible (and surprisingly much needed) staff retreat.

Yesterday I walked along and in Mediterranean (is that spelled right?) waters with the warm spring wind and Steven Delopolous in my ears. I

And yesterday I was listening to a song I have listened to so many times, but it took on new meaning.

Knowledge is the season for knowing when and why...balances and reason keep me from the fire. And every time I'm placed, within the perfect role...people come and go, people come and go...

Fire can be friendly, raising perfect pain. Burning off tomorrow..and yesterday the same. To
always be so weak, and never want to know you know we come and go, we come and then we go.

Of course I always thought about the going...but now I realize the exquisite beauty in the season of coming...even the fire and the pain are truly divine and full and rich.

Now it just feels safe and secure and surrounded. I am in a place of rest and inspiration.

Whimsy and the Spanish emergency room

2006-03-20T10:14:00.000-08:00

It's been perfect walking in the rain weather these past few days...not cold, not too windy...just drizzly.
Every once in a while a brushing wind will kick up...the kind that makes you close your eyes. So I do. Just close my eyes and live it.
And I hope that while I am walking those few steps with my eyes closed I don't smack into a lampost or worse, a moving car.
You can only be whimsical as long as you are still alive. And the Spanish emergency room is one part of Spain I do not want to experience.

But in seriousness, I am still pressing on. Sometimes it's so hard and I feel so disconnected. Other times it's exhilerating and full, and then there are days like today. I feel like this is reality.
It's mellow, slightly routine, but every once in a while I sense a calm breathed into my ears.
It's tranquility in the midst of those quick, cool bursts of rainy wind.
Ahhh....Bien. Muy bien.

Listening to an old favorite of mine, the score from 1998's "Great Expectations" I don't know why I just love this cd so much, but it definately suits my mood these days.

Everything intense.

2006-03-12T21:30:00.000-08:00

I don’t suppose there has to be a theme to this writing. I mainly just want to get these thoughts out of my head.
I’ve been reading and thinking about a little bit of everything intense. Life, war, justice, eternity, peoples’ souls and how God is in all of these things. I am tired and less talkative these days.

I ride the bus every day and watch people walk the streets and sit beside me and drive their cars, and look out their windows. I grow frustrated and kind of sad. Because I have a very strong sense that so many of them are hurting or numb. And then I try to understand this burden and reconcile it with what I gut-wrenchingly feel about God. Not just God in a general sense…GOD. I can’t say it any other way. I don’t know. All I know is my own self, I understand very little about other people.

It’s true, you know. None of us can really understand other people. Even if we have been through their same situations, it doesn’t matter. Every story is so diverse. Experiences, relationships, time, emotions, they all build into our lives a work of story that is thoroughly unique. Seriously. So there is NO POSSIBLE WAY to truly understand what a person feels when something happens to them. Not completely anyway.
We can only know ourselves. I don’t mean this in a selfish way. I just mean that we should make peace with not understanding a single thing. That’s the way it is. I’ll keep trying, but there is a point of surrender.
People spend their whole lives looking for a way out of pain, a way to feel something, someone to hold their hand. Riding the bus, looking into their faces, I feel very weighed down. If there has to be a point of surrender, then God, I surrender. I’ll never understand these people the way I want to. If I don’t surrender this need to understand, I’ll drive myself crazy.
I stop for a minute, close my eyes. I have to do this several times a day. Breathe out. We can’t know.
Truth exists. Mystery holds truth. God is cloaked in unknown…to us. It’s unsettling, but it doesn’t have to be. When I surrender, as often as I need to, there are moments when I am washed in the calm of profound beauty. In the words of a favorite poet:
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart…try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.” Ranier Maria Rilke

On being thought Stupid.

2006-03-10T00:21:00.000-08:00

And if this night won't let me rest,
don't let me second guess
...what I know to be real.
Take my security from me,
and maybe finally...I won't have to know everything.

The days are full...sometimes that's bad because you end up doing a lot and accomplishing...not a lot. And you are tired.
But my days are full in a good way, I believe.

I'm learning a new language. People think I am stupid. It's not bad to go through times when everybody thinks you are stupid.
I know that I am not, and I also know that I kind of am. And that overall, people can't dictate either way.

Except me, I can dictate sometimes, and I think I might be quite good at it.
Hmmmm...

TODAY'S HIGHLIGHTS:
-20 minutes at the bakery with coffee, a pastry, and the Holy Book.
-A series of travel videos in spanish class...
-Being yelled at by the language school's cleaning lady (and called stupid...but we've already discussed how unimportant that is)
-Being stopped by another car for directions (they always leave frustrated...but I always leave thrilled that at least I look like I belong)
Si...good day.

Pepe plays the guitar.

2006-02-23T01:45:00.000-08:00

We have Alpha meetings at a bar down the street from the church every Tuesday night. This past week an older man wandered in to the back of the bar where we meet, because he saw the guitars laying on the table.
He picked one up and began to play this incredibly gorgeous classical Spanish song. Nate, one of my fellow short-termers, began to play with him. Somehow, as we all listened to him and he met everyone, he decided to stay for the meal, and then the video, and then the discussion groups...it was random. But very good.
I don't know what his story is...I have been thinking a lot about it though. Every one's story, so different, but the author of life never ceases to awe me in his innate ability to twist and turn and create the most incredible stories by pouring his presence over the pages.

Pepe. The random guitarist.

Beginning of a wonderful story?

2006-02-16T16:38:00.000-08:00

February 2006
As rain raced down the sides and over the shaky bus stop that was my feeble shelter from the pelting rains of La Coruña, Spain, I shivered deep into my oversized rain jacket.
It was one of those nylon deals that folds into its self and zips up into a pouch. I bought it for a trip to Alaska three summers ago, and I will admit that it was a lot more fitting for that trip than for today. Today, it not only provided very little warmth from this chilly Galicia rain, it also was a major faux paux in a very fashion-conscious city. “American, right here!” The jacket screams to the passing cars. Wet, shivering, clueless, American.

A car pulls up to the stop. “This will not end good,” I think to myself “this can only end in disaster”.
The window rolled down and the woman inside began to speak to me. And for so many reasons I couldn’t reply. First of all, I understand little Spanish. I speak even less, and even if I could have understood her, the echo of the rain pelting the plexi-glass overhang and the roar of passing cars on a soaked street made hearing her a complete impossibility. And furthermore, I am pretty sure she was asking for directions (she yelled and gestured in that way that people do when they are lost and frustrated enough to ask a total stranger for help) and I have only lived here for a little over two weeks. Needless to say, it did, in fact, not end well.
I started to say that I don’t speak Spanish, but only needed to get three words out before she looked at me in that sad way, as if to say “You are even more lost than I am…”,rolled up her window and drove on.
It serves her right. Didn’t she notice the huge navy-blue nylon rain hoodie? How do you miss that?
Then again, maybe she was stopping to tell me how ridiculous I looked.
Tough to catch a bus in this town, it is.

I eventually gave up on catching the bus and went home. I didn’t need to go to the supermarket that badly. I sloshed up the stairs to an empty, silent apartment. I needed to call Mom. For being the kind of person who could go days without talking to another person, I was starting to feel a little too isolated. It had only been about twelve hours. “Strange…” I muttered under my breath.
I have a wicked cold. I even had to go back out into that weather to get some cough drops and tissues. Right now I am resting. I really should be studying Spanish, but I want to write this.
I guess I’m hoping it will be the introduction to a wonderful story.

Great Greasy Bouffant, Jean Claude

2006-02-15T10:45:00.000-08:00

This new kid from France joins our class two days ago, he´s got this huge mass of hair that can only be defined as a "Bouffant". It's so very greasy. So greasy, that when he runs his hands through this monstrosity upon his head, it just stays that way....he wears pink sweaters (he has at least two different shades of pink sweaters), and he has an opinion that he feels the need to voice on every subject.

We talk about cars, or the news, or food, or music, and really the point here is to learn how to talk about these things in Spanish...he continues to miss the point.

"Me parece que...", "En mi opinion", "Yo creo que"...blah, blah, blah....It´s a good thing his bouffant amuses me so much, or I would not be able to handle having him in class.

Tardy and a bit of a racist.

2006-02-09T19:13:00.000-08:00

I eat many pastries. God bless the bakery.

Started classes at la escuela oficial de idiomas hoy.

La Profesora was eh.... 25 minutes late for class and also a bit racist. (I'm pretty positive she was making fun of one of the Chinese girls in class today...) (I will be next, once she hears me speak)

What can you do? At least she can teach me Spanish.

And for 25 minutes I can get to know my classmates. Chinese, German, French, Portoguese, English, Australian, Irish, Brazilian, Polish, and a few others I am not sure of...one guy from the middle East somewhere....

Pretty diverse, no? I am the only American...kind of fun. Too bad we know what everyone thinks of Americans. Good thing I am not from California.

The Ria

2006-02-05T02:17:00.000-08:00

This evening I went for a walk along the Ria, where the mouth of the river meets the ocean. The sun was setting and the tide was low, boats sitting on patches of marshy land waiting to float again come morning. There is a footbridge over the water that is ancient....I mean actually built by the Romans....ancient....incredible...

In the evenings all the families come out and walk the Ria together...Old, young, strolling, pushing carriages, roller skating, walking dogs...I was actually one of the very few people out walking alone. Such a sense of family...enjoying one another, enjoying life and creation and the cool air at dusk...it´s something truly beautiful here.

So very American.

2005-12-13T12:31:00.000-08:00

I love this. Cold winter nights where I can curl up in my bed with a cup of decaf coffee and my thoughts. Lately my thoughts have turned towards living in another country. I’m not sure if I can do it. I’m required to be reading a book called: “The Survival Kit for Living Overseas” Next on the list of required reading is a book called “Crossing Cultures”.
I am so very American.
Will I be able to adapt? I barely speak the language, and I have limited experience in the world outside of suburban America.
Right now is so comfortable, warm and safe in my home with my family, a predictable job, good friends, a great church, even sufficient outlets for my dance and creative impulses.
Now, there have been those all to frequent times when I have felt as though I might die from squelched ambition. Moments where the need to go and do something big, something different was so great, so overwhelming, that I literally couldn’t breathe. If only I could bottle those times and save them to use later, when I feel like I do now: comfortable.

Truth is, I may feel comfortable, but oftentimes the biggest regrets happen in a moment of comfort.
Profound…
If what they say is true, and you regret things you did not do, more often than things you did do, than I would have to say that I fear regret more than mistakes.
It all comes down to risk. Talking about risk some friends a few years back, we all agreed that it all comes down to weighing the possible outcomes. If what I might gain is worth more then I risk losing, or if what I might succeed in is worth any failure, than I have to do it.

I am a slow driver.

2005-12-07T23:00:00.000-08:00

That is one awesome blizzard outside right now...And the best part is that I don't have to work tomorrow!
And, for once, it was okay for me to drive excruciatingly slow on the highway...

Has anyone seen my scarf?

2005-11-28T23:11:00.000-08:00

Sigh. Then close your eyes, then put on another layer.
If people could love each other as much as we are supposed to, this would be good.
Then again, I never cease to see how I think things should be and assume that's how they are supposed to be.
Because I know everything, right? (sarcasm, insert here)
Follow my lead...please don't.

I don't know where I am going.
I'm trying to follow someone, I hope I'm doing okay.
Where is my scarf? Because I wasn't being a drama queen this morning when I said it was cold, and no I will not haul the trash three miles down to the dumpsters.

You gotta stick to your principles.
Make a boy do it...they're always trying to be all tough.

Maybe we all are.

Autumn and road tripping...

2005-11-27T11:12:00.000-08:00

I got back last week from the most wondeful trip. First, I flew into Virginia Beach and got to take a road trip with my friend Heather, whom I haven't seen in a few years. It was good times. Then, I got to spend a week preparing for Kandia's wedding.
That's right, my best friend, the ultimate romantic, had her dream wedding...and I was privileged enough not only to witness this event, but to stand up in it as her maid of honor, and to dance as part of the ceremony. Now, the honeymoon was canceled three days before the wedding, we got in trouble with the "cops" and one of the bridesmaids was almost arrested, we had three months worth of preparations to do in three days, and even a few other mishaps occured...still, I can honestly say it was the best wedding I've ever been to!

After the wedding, I got to take another road trip with my friend Mel to Jackson, MS to see all my college friends and church family. We stopped in Kingsport, Tennessee to stay the night with Mel's parents...it was hysterical. Mel needs to be a sitcom. She is a distinct character, and tells absolutely the best stories.
We toured Gatlinburg (Branson of the south, I decided) and drove past the big golden disco ball on a tower in Knoxville.

Life is sweet.
I saw everyone I love in Jackson. Man, I miss them.
But while I am not supposed to be there because it's not home anymore...part of me will always belong there.

An ode to change.

2005-10-24T11:16:00.000-07:00

Life deserves to feel like autumn.
Because everything can suddenly change with one thick, cold, deep brush of wind.
We seek home while everything sheds what it formerly was and waits for what it can become. Many would say that spring is a picture of a fresh start and new beginnings, but I would have to disagree. Fall is.
Because the truth that no one likes to acknowledge is that it takes time for new life to grow. There are seasons, and hope inspires endurance. Hope begins when everything is cleared away.

That is why there is something sincerely beautiful about the air and the coolness and the colors. It's not about death at all, no, truly it is about hope.

Embrace this exquisite transformation, though it may take time, return to find rest in hope.

Amazingly enough, it is not something we must cling to with white knuckles. It may feel like that, but only if we fight it. It has already encompassed us, just let it exist.

I like to think it came in the form of a thick, deep, cold autumn wind.

My rock.

2005-10-17T16:12:00.000-07:00

Okay...so it was a fabulous weekend. My mom and I went on a retreat, I got a cool pair of shoes, I "hiked" the flint hills of Kansas, sat in a really amazing pioneer church, studied Nehemiah, heard coyotes and owls, and this morning the tornado siren went off in the middle of communion.

But, even more than that, I read about a man in the Bible who I now like a lot. He had sooo much conviction, so much gut-wrenching passion when it came to doing something he knew the Lord was calling him to do, it was remarkable. I mean, the guy prayed, really prayed from the core of his being, for four straight months before he even began. Then, when people were making the job miserable, coming up against him, plotting ways to stop him, he pushed on with even more conviction than ever! Where is that kind of drive and conviction today? I wondered if it is in my own life...I want it to be, I know that much. I mean, yes, the Lord goes before us and does battle, but I think He would like it if we followed. (I kinda get the idea that's what he intends, huh?)

I took home a rock.

It's so I can get to work building my wall.

If you've never read Nehemiah's story, seriously, good stuff, it'll get to you.

alright. Table nine, your pizza is ready.

The huge gorilla question and the discovery channel

2005-10-08T23:04:00.000-07:00

October 2005
One of my friends said she is having trouble believing in God anymore. She said that the doubts she usually has floating over her head have become like one of those giant gorillas that car dealerships use to draw people in to sales…all blown up and swaying in the highway wind.
Well, I have been thinking a lot lately about God, and who He is. I started to write a letter back to her and say whatever I could that would let her know that I know where she is coming from and also convey to her why I feel so strongly that God does exist. Maybe it would help her come to a place of rest…let the air out of that stupid gorilla.
Because here is where I am coming from. Mind you, it is not uncomplicated. I am not even sure I understand it, so muddled in my cerebrum it is. Yeah….
I ask that same questions everyone does…if there is this God that Christians say there is, why are things the way they are?

I’m watching the discovery channel right now. There is this guy writing all over a white board with this blue marker. He is scribbling, I recognize pi, and the quadratic equation, or something that looks vaguely high school algebra-ish but harder. And a whole bunch of other numbers and symbols. He’s going crazy; I’m tired just watching him.
You know what he’s doing? Trying to explain all the electricity in lightning.
Yeah. Because all it takes to understand God is a 3’x5’white board and a blue marker.
Oh, and I just saw a commercial that said next week the discovery channel is going to explore Jesus’ miracles. Good luck guys.

Now I love the discovery channel. It proves to me that I am not the only one trying to understand God. Everything on that channel is just people looking at creation and trying to explain it. Now I’m not anti science or anything. Obviously. I took medicine this morning that I need to stay alive. But there is a difference between science and trying to simplify God inspired awe and wonder into numbers on a white board.
Humanity doesn’t understand Him. Be-cause w-e c-a-n’t….
God created man in HiS own image. Not the other way around.

Doink Doink.

2005-09-15T23:23:00.000-07:00

mm...our exchange student is singing downstairs. She sings in her room late at night when everyone else is sleeping. And it's really great, I truly enjoy hearing it drift up the stairs. Beautiful.

The other night I got together with an old friend, who I haven't seen in years. It was strange and good. We ended up driving out to the International House of Prayer and she prayed with me in the Europe room. Whoa, was that what I needed?
I feel better.

If you know me well, you know how obsessed I am with Psalm 84...So, yeah, I have read those verses (verses 3-9 of that Psalm) about 15 times this week, and saying them in my head as a way of reminding myself that the journey is indeed filled with autumn rains.
It's going to be better than I realize, and I should know from journals I've kept for years that times like these only produce amazing fruit, and that it is seen in hindsight.

I don't do this very often, I have a blog where I can post more pictures and stuff, but I do enjoy the comments and looking at everybodies sight, sooo I think I want to keep up still.

And also, I have a funny story:

I was at Starbuck yesterday, making the coffee, and I was the one at the espresso bar making all the drinks and calling them out, you know...I was like busily making them and calling: "Iced Venti Nonfat latte!" "triple grande mocha, for Joe!" "Tall orange mocha frappucino, for Derek", when all of a sudden I called out "Grande M-" (what the heck, double take, yes, folks, it was a grande milk.) "Grande Milk!"
So, all of a sudden the whole place is silent. They all stop, the music stops. Everyone is looking at me and the counter, wanting to see who in the heck paid like four bucks for a cup of milk, and who drinks just plain milk at Starbucks anyway.
I see this hand reach around the corner and this nervous little man grab the cup and scurry towards the door, head down.
My co-workers were like "Did you just call out a grande cup of milk?"

Yes I did.

Only time that's ever happened.
Sarah and Rach said it was a doink-doink moment.
I must wholeheartedly agree.

Genuine dirty feet.

2005-04-28T14:38:00.000-07:00

I am currently exploring the wonder that is western Pennsylvania. They have rolling hills...that is hills that roll. And we had coffee last night at a coffee shop owned and operated by a crazy goat. Super fun.

I am still reading Jesus with dirty feet, and pondering Jesus and his response to people, ideas, situations. All I know is that the modern church and modern religion for that matter have created so many rules and standards that they defend in the name of being biblical, and it's really hard to break those down in my mind. For instance, when I am in the middle of a situation, wondering how to respond, I want to know how to respond in a way that is driven by love, and true to a heart that is following Jesus, but my mind immediately wants to respond in a way that I have been told to, that is the "right" way in accordance to my Christian upbringing.

But is "Christian" this set, standardized way of living, a creed, and commitment to a lifestyle? I was reminded while reading this book that Christian means "Christ-followers". That's all.

There's no rule, creed, or set way of life that is more important than first looking to Christ, to Jesus, and who he was, who he is, and who he longs for me to be. A Christ follower. To respond in love, in truth, and in accordance with who I have discovered Jesus to be.

Why have we made it so difficult? And where did things get so off course?

La dah dada dah da....

2005-02-15T11:37:00.000-08:00

I was super motivated this morning and got up to take a jazz class. This class, which I have been taking every Tuesday, is so much fun, but we do this ab workout in the middle of class that makes us want to cry, it is seriously killer...and the funny part is that the teacher likes to put on Jack Johnson's "Bubble Toes" while we suffer...so we laying there on the floors like beached whales.....in complete ab workout misery, all the while Jack is just a "La da da da dah dah....la da da da dah...."
Glad he's having a good time.

Anyhow, I will actually write later, and go check out some other people's sites, I really will...but I am goin to be late to work...and I already got busted for that yesterday...so poor Ica...

Bye for now....

Don't pick up.

2005-02-07T19:34:00.000-08:00

This weather is perfect for me...I love it, gray and thick and filled with introspective possibilities.

I just picked up a call from Starbucks, almost always a mistake. man.
Closing on Valentines day. Ok.

I am reading this amazing fiction series by Karen Kingsbury and Gary Smalley called the Redemption series. I seriously havent put the books down for like five days straight. Incredible stories, very real, very powerful. Check it out if you are looking for some fiction that will really challenge you and make you think.

Love and rainy days and cinnamon soy lattes.

Found a cd from high school.

2004-11-11T17:23:00.000-08:00

If I raise my hands, so weak and thin and frail, will you reveal the light of mercy in your eyes?...If I cry to you faintly will my feeble whisper fail? Or will it find it's way to a reply? Cuz now that I'm exhausted, I think I'm willing to admit, that I've spent all my resistance on someone I can't resist...

Ok...here's what I'm saying, I raise my hands in surrender today, ok....here I will stay, hands in the air saying 'have thine own way' "

Some really awesome words from old school "The Waiting".

This can't be long, Kandia just got back from over six weeks in China and I have give her a call to see how awesome it was...

And I will be at Starbucks at exactly 5:30 in the am tomorrow, I just feel so sorry for me. That is a completely irrational hour for any human being to be awake, much less making lattes.

So...that's it.
~Ica

It's amazing how exotic Wisconsin can be.

2004-11-02T13:13:00.000-08:00

So, sometimes you have to totally forget about yourself and focus completely on another/other person/peoples lives and situations. This almost always turns out for the good. It is so hard to do though....we just aren't naturally inclined to forget about ourselves. I hate that about me, and human nature. Do you ever have those moments when you know that you have truly sacrificed for someone else? Whether it be time, money, conversation, our own agenda, to truly let go of whatever we think is important and just do or be for another person? Man, I really want to have those moments more often... "Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others..."
Still reading a little Brian Mclaren....This guys is amazing...you all should read his books if you get a chance. I took a class my junior year of college on Evangelism and Discipleship, and we read his book "More Ready than You Realize: Evangelism as a Dance in the Postmodern Matrix". He has the most amazing insights into understanding the emerging culture, and how the church fits into the whole picture. Right now I am reading a book he wrote almost entirely as a converstaion between two people, hashing out postmodernism and the spiritual journey. Really poignant, really interesting.

The Holidays are coming...at Starbucks at least...my assistant manager has already had wayyy too much eggnog...and the cranberry bliss bar? Can I just say, bliss?

Road trip this weekend...to the ever exotic location of, drumroll please.............Millwaukee?
Well, I'm excited, anyway.

~Ica

Will you be my friend?

2004-10-27T03:12:00.000-07:00

Today I did a cool thing. Keep in mind I am a self-professed coffee nerd. Today, me and a nd some friends roasted our own coffee beans over a fire, in genuine Ethiopian coffee farmer style. Then we mashed them up and brewed them in a clay pot over the fire, and drank the coffee. Best coffee ever, man.....I know, I know...I am aware that this is only cool to real, genuiune coffee nerds. That's what my mother said when I tried to tell her how cool it was.

So, I was out walking in this Seattle-esque weather we are having, and just loving every minute of it....I should probably go live in the Northwest, though I am truly a New Englander at heart....and yet, here I am in Kansas. Life is funny.
I need to get away though. This is the longest I have been in any one city for a very long time...and I am about to go nuts. I begged and pleaded and pretty much made a fool of myself at work, and they let me have next weekend off. I'm going somewhere, somewhere else, that is.

I have been thinking about how the older I get, the harder it is to make good friends. And I think I have figured out why: It's because there is so much more background to cover as life goes on. For instance, the best friends in my life right now are those from high school, and those I met at the beginning of college. If I were to meet anyone right now that I wanted to become close friends with, there woud be, like three weeks of uninterrupted conversation required just to understand how the happenings of the past four years have made us who we are. Who has those three weeks, I would like to know....really? If there is anyone...
So, I love you who have seen me though such melodrama, we turned out alright, right?