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I’ve been able to spend some quality time with my good buddy Matt. Quality time means watching Chad Vader on YouTube, watching Battle Star Galactica (with Joy too!), trashing on people who ask us to add them to Facebook, talking about some of our hopes, looking up future places to move to, and just sitting on the couch until it’s really late at night.
I’ve really missed living with Matt and Joy. Most of the time, I just think it’s sad that I’m not living with them anymore. But sometimes, when my head’s on straight, I’m just really glad that there was a season of time where I finally felt at home in Oakland. Joy always let me eat the awesome food she cooked. She always let me and Matt be Mac nerds, and once in a while she’d join in the conversation. But most of the time she’d roll her eyes and smile. I liked watching cooking shows on Saturday mornings with her. Matt’s always been fun to mess around with and I’ve really been grateful for spending deep and shallow moments late at night on the couch.
I’m really excited that Matt’s beginning to take the risk with Progressive Educator. I know it’s a risk to start your own business, but I can totally see how much Matt’s energized by working on this project. I think it really fits him, with all of the creative and interesting ideas he has as a teacher. BookLook is like a Web2.0 version of Reading Rainbow. What’s neat is his students created the recordings all by themselves. It’ll be really neat to see how things shape out with all of these ideas. Check them out if you have time.
On another note, I’ve been trying to spend more time thinking about things internally. I made a pretty short recording today, in honor of BookLook, and I guess, just for fun and posterity. I’ve been reading a bit more of Henri Nouwen, and (as always) his writings have been helpful for me to think through things.
Let me know what you think:
Today just felt really weird. A gas main broke at work and we were evacuated from our building. We stood outside of the building, evacuated from the heavy smell of gas that lingered inside. I was happy to be outside in the sun, but it was weird to be standing outside with all of these random people from our building.
The break led to an early lunch with Sam. I’ve been meaning to hook up with him, and it was pretty fun to hear about his stories about teaching English in Japan. He painted such an interesting picture of international life. It was about working, partying, socializing, having fun, traveling, and learning about Japan and it’s people. I thought of my experience overseas in Africa, and it was similar, but so very different at the same time. The depth of difference was that I left the riches nation on the world to go to the poorest country on earth. He went to another rich nation.
He spoke of working hard and playing hard. There were beautiful girls that he remembered, there were strange and super fun parties that he went to. There was the food that Udon and beer that he loved to eat after drink at night. I’d say that my own experiences were the same, except that there was this screaming sense of death all around. Death held poverty’s hand, and they walked next to me, waited for me to come out of the taxi cab, followed me with open hands, and asked me what I was really there for. I listened to Sam, and my mind wandered to Siaka Stevens Street, where I used to hold my bag a bit tighter because pick pockets were notorious for running away with treasures. Those two, hand in hand, aren’t so visible to me right now.
In light of Lent, I’ve been thinking more about how I position myself in regards to death and poverty. I wonder if I turn away like I turn from an on-rushing rush of wind. I wonder if I turn away as I grip my wallet – phone – ipod – keys. (Are they all there? They are… Good.) I wonder if I’m just here for me, and the rest of the world will continue to live and die on its own accord. I feel like my heart leans towards facing the truth, but my feet are faced the other way.
I hope my feet, heart, and hopes will begin to face the same direction.
We had an Ash Wednesday service at New Hope last night. Here’s a poem I read during the service. I choked up a bit when I was reading the second half of the poem. I realized that I was reading a poem that spoke of what I longed to believe, and what I struggle deeply with.
Here is the poem:
Wild Geese
Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue air
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
The northern coast of California is an amazingly beautiful area. Actually all of the land outside of urban California is pretty awesome. Once we left Marin and Santa Rosa, the road gave way to rolling green hills, little houses and barns plopped in the middle of a vast sea of farms and trees and grass. The roads were emptier, but they seemed more peaceful and inviting. It felt like they were welcoming us to something good. It’s hard to describe, but it is as if the land was alive to us. It was hopeful and hospitable.
I noticed the contrast between the outer open lands of California, and the big urban center that I live in. I live in a noisy, dirty, busy place. A place that has everything you could possibly desire. All things hoped for, lusted for, cheated for, longed for, and waited for are here. Yet, the senses are overwhelmed. The pervasive concrete: it is dead, cold, and it stands a bit smug in relationship to people. Sometimes I think it reminds me that it stands in spite of me.
The concrete road speaks differently than an open dirt(y) road. The trees are alive, and so is the dirty earth. Walking through the tall wet grass ended up being a bit irritating. My shoes, socks, and feet were completely soaked. I felt like I was slogging through the path. But, I realized that even though I was wet, it was almost a welcoming feeling. It felt good to be touched by the water, to walk through the soggy leaves, to peer into the dew drops on the spider webs, and to see all the different shades of green. My senses were renewed, calmed, and invited to enjoy the space.
There’s a lot within me that’s unsettled and unknown. In evaluation of different parts of my life, there’s much to be desired. I feel really uneasy and confused about what my life is at the moment, and how it will take shape. There’s a bittersweet taste that’s still on the tip of my toungue. Where’s home? What is my growing sense of vocation? Who do I call my community? Who do I claim to care for? Why does my sense of dissatisfaction seem to grow here? It translates to: I don’t know what I’m doing.
And this is still here. It is here in the city, in my quiet empty basement-unit. It was there in the deep Redwood forests. It was there on that basketball court in Atlanta, and in the bustling markets of Sierra Leone. There is always a sense of wonder about what I’m doing. There are moments where the worry and trouble can’t get any of my time. There are moments when they’re my best friend.
Scott said he liked hiking because you just put one foot in front of the other. Over and over – that is all you do. He said that it was good to have the simplicity. Just one thing at a time, and that’s all that you do. I liked that.
There is a battle between anxiety and hope. They’re always both there, but they take different turns during my life. Sometimes Anxiety is greater, and Hope is small. Other times, Hope stands strong and Anxiety cowers in fear. One never completely disappears as they’re bound as brothers.
My heart lies.
It lies in between the Hope and Anxiety.
Scott and I are taking a trip to Northern (Northern) California. We’re going to spend the next couple days hiking in the Redwoods. I’m looking forward to seeing some really huge trees. Trees that have been around before Christ. I’m looking forward to taking a lot of pictures. I’m looking forward to going north. I’ve never really been to the north coast of California.
We’re leaving at 6 am tommorow. I can’t believe I’m still up at 1:45 am. Tommorow’s going to really hurt. Hopefully Scott will be up for driving. Maybe he’s blogging right now and writing the same things. I hope not.
Our team was eliminated from the playoffs today. We lost 12-11. Both teams agreed to the game as first team to score 13, but the game needed to end because the other teams had to play. It was sad to lose and to know that I wouldn’t be playing on a team for a while, nevertheless with these people. I played really well though. I had two layout D’s, and I almost caught a layout score in the endzone. My shirt was and shorts were totally muddy. I love that.
There was one point when I got a D, but the dude totally upended me in the air and I landed on my chest. It hurt really bad and I tried to get up, but i just flopped back down on my chest. I tried again, but I coudn’t get up. I tried once more, and my body gave in. Other folks were telling me to stay down. I could see some feet around me, and soon folks were standing around me. So I stayed on the ground with my face in the dirt. I haven’t had the kind of feeling for a while. The feeling where you accomplish something (made a defensive play) but it hurts really bad. In a weird way, it felt good to just lie face down in the grass and dirt.
After I left the field for a sub, the other team scored, and then I raced back to the line to start the next point, but they called the game. It was a bummer because I could just feel our team coming on.
There was a bit of controversy during our game. Both sides were pretty snippy with foul calls and pick calls, and the such. At one point, guys were arguing, and a player from the other side blamed our guy for being drunk, and being a danger to the rest of the players. That player was also one of the league directors which made the whole thing a bit more complicated and frustrating to our guy. I’d have to say that what transpired was pretty silly. Each team had a time out and meeting. Our guy decided he’d just sit out. I think the other guy ended up sitting out too.
So, we played on, and in the end we lost and they won. Afterwards, both teams got together in a big circle, and we talked it out. Our guy apologized. Both captains apologized. I was kind of all smiles because I played my heart out. I think we all lost today. The other team won, but it tasted a bit sour and unfinished. We lost but it was sour because we never really finished the game. I felt like the happiest loser because folks on both teams were really appreciative of my hustle.
Still, I am grateful: for dry fields to play on tonight, for a great team to play with, for the genuine appreciationg from both teams for my play, for my trip to the redwoods, for a day off tommorow and Monday.
