common placing

The knowledge of yourself will preserve you from vanity. -Cervantes


I prefer rogues to imbeciles, because they sometimes take a rest. -Dumas

Lent

I'm giving up Facebook and my blog for Lent.  I hope you'll join me after Easter-- for something new and improved!!!

Dark and Stormy

It was a dark and stormy night...  Actually, it is a dark and stormy night.  Really. No Edgar Allen Poe or ghost story here.  "Dark and stormy" have been on my mind on a metaphorical level as well.

It all started with teaching Chapter 8 in Luci Shaw's book on journaling titled: "Dealing with Your Difficulties."  It was a hard chapter to read but helpful.  Several of the class members said it was the most useful part of the book.  She writes about being honest with yourself about your emotions-- to pray and write about them before you do something you'll regret.  We discussed how hard life is.  I used to think it was personal, but I'm getting the sense that everybody gets their share of heartache.  It comes in so many forms.  But, it's so hard to walk through it instead of avoiding it.  There's a necessary degree of survival mode to dark times because some days getting to evening can feel like a miracle.

However, millenia of Judeo-Christian tradition tell us that there's more to darkness and suffering than survival.  Say, the Book of Job and Lamentations to go for the obvious.  The passion in all four gospels.  One third of the Psalms are lament.  A third.  And, according to multiple theologians the Psalms are the anatomy of the soul.  Our souls are one-third lament?  Here's the poem I put at the end of the hand out for the class:

“To Know the Dark” by Wendell Berry

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

And find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

And is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

Then after teaching the class, I had a couple of potent conversations with several friends over a course of a few days.  My friends our dealing with some heavy stuff-- some painful difficulties.  I woke up at 4:20 on Saturday morning with Isaiah 50:10-11 on my mind (who knows what I was dreaming?):

Who among you fears the Lord
    and obeys the voice of his servant?
Let him who walks in darkness
    and has no light
trust in the name of the Lord
    and rely on his God.
¹¹ Behold, all you who kindle a fire,
    who equip yourselves with burning torches!
Walk by the light of your fire,
    and by the torches that you have kindled!
This you have from my hand:
    you shall lie down in torment.

There's a large part of me that wishes that there was something more than "trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God" that God offers "him who walks in darkness and has no light." But, that's the gospel: our only hope is God.  There is no "more than." The Bible is no self-help manual.  

Back to the Psalms. Although a third of the Psalter is lament, all but one Psalm ends in praise.  Psalm 88 ends with "Darkness is my only friend."  But, every other one, even the most dire ones like the one where babies heads are getting bashed on rocks, end in praise and hope.  This literary structure is instructive: it really shifts momentum from the situation to God without dismissing the problem.  David got into plenty of pickles-- some really impossible ones.  But, he ended up finding comfort in the goodness and power of his God... who is our God. Darkness can be our friend if it brings us closer to God by ridding of our illusions of power and control.  Or as Flannery O'Connor who died of lupus at age 39 said, "We are all rather blessed in our deprivations if we let ourselves be, I suppose." 

Winter Cooking by Mad Chef, Jr.

I'm finding it really tricky to eat vegetables right now.  Salads aren't doing it for me: the produce section is incredibly expensive and sad.  Plus, I'm craving comfort food... but I still need to fit into my clothes.  So, I'm crock-potting it.

I'm too busy during my work week to cook, so I cook vats of vittles.  I try to prepare at least two different meals because it becomes tedious to eat the same thing over and over and over again.  I can fake myself out when I alternate chili and Moroccan Stew.  I freeze some of it in individual containers so that I can just grab something on the way to work or when I come home hungry.  It gives me good reason to stay away from fast food.  It can also be inexpensive.  I'm becoming a bigger fan of vegetarian because of the money factor.

Cooking multiple things at once also consolidates cleaning time.  You clean up once.    And, I'm leaving out that I cook steel cut oatmeal and put into a big tupperware and scoop it out in the morning and heat it in the microwave with a splash of water.  Because one can only consume so many protein shakes. I'm also cutting up carrot so I have something crunchy to snack on that isn't chips or other forms of simple carbs.  Bananas, oranges, carrots, shredded cabbage and onions are about the only thing I'm buying in the produce department right now.  Because everything else is a very sad expensive.

Pinterest is awesome for finding recipes.  My sister contends that Pinterest is a dumbed down version of Digg for women.  She's probably right-- I don't come away from Pinterest intellectually stimulated, but I do come away psyched to cook.  My favorite recipe websites are skinnytaste and forksoverknives and friends' recipe boards. Here are the recipes I've most enjoyed because I successfully made them, they're relatively inexpensive, and they store well.

Asian Noodle Salad by Eclectic Chef

Asian Noodle Salad: I made this after buying some Asian Noodle Salad at Trader Joe's for lunch.  I thought, "I could make this healthier, cheaper and better than this."  And, I was right.  Notes: I can't find good red cabbage right now. Splurge on the cilantro-- it's worth it.  I use whole wheat spaghetti. I use edamame instead of peas.

Skinny Taste's Spinach Lasagna Rolls

Spinach Lasagna Rolls: These are really yummy and easy.  They look kind of fancy too. These are perfect portion control.  Next time I make them, I'm going to add diced up carrots and more spinach.  I used a spicy hot spaghetti sauce-- and it was really nice.

Forks Over Knives' Chickpea Ratatouille

Oven Baked Chickpea Ratatouille: This stuff is fantastic served over brown rice.  This dish was my biggest surprise.

Moroccan Lentil Soup

Moroccan Lentil Soup: Easy to make.  Fun spices.

Please share your favorite easy recipes!

Parenting Trends and the Church

Read New Republic's article How Older Parenthood Will Upend American Society and Seeking Alpha's Chinese and American Demographics Contrasted and weep.  Or, if you are in my shoes: feel guilt and shame from the Parenthood one and a depressing vindication with the other.

Macro view: I know such news isn't new.  The Romans dealt with this issue as did almost every culture where women have choice regarding their futures-- the mother's death has been a common side effect of birth throughout history.  We've largely distanced ourselves from that reality, but we haven't the costs of parenting-- women still bear the brunt of that.

Micro view: I also come from a family who has only one aunt who started having children in her 20's.  My mom had her first child at age 31 and her last one at 41.  My grandmother had her last child at age 41.  Neither my brother or uncle has any birth defects. It never occurred to me that I would have children in my 20's, but it also never occurred to me that I'd be single at age 33.  It's as one older lady told me at church, "But, you're not that ugly." And, statistically speaking, the odds of either happening are minimal to nonexistent.  I am a brave new world with little guidance.  The evangelical church is geared towards men and families.  Maybe that's the problem with the modern American church?  We're more interested in demographics than God, worship and obedience.  Churches have foci on "seekers" or "family-friendly" or whatever.  Maybe we should be a little more focused on God-- and the seekers and families will come?

It seems to me that the demographic shifts are being studied in terms of education and income.  But, I wonder what deeper issues related to identity and spiritual belief are at stake?  Where is the church in this seismic shift?  I'd like to see a study linking church attendance and debt to income levels into the marriage and children mix.  Where does the shift in importance of entertainment, stuff and education fit into the mix?  I think the shift from a saving culture to a credit culture is a shift in conceptualization of the future and personal responsibility: an anthropological and theological shift.  We're talking about trends in sexuality, households, and lifestyle-- this is profound.

I'm finding the only worthwhile way to combat the worry (macro and micro) has been digging into a study of Exodus.  How's that for an apparent non sequitur? But, then again, maybe not.  Yahweh responds to all of Moses's legitimate worries in Chapter 3: "I am."  This answer denotes God's authority and presence.  The verb is of "active being."  God is also equating being God of the fathers (Abraham, Jacob and Isaac) with being the God who is present and active (and in charge of) the Israelites in Egypt.  God is as present now as He was then.  As problematic as this seems, perhaps slavery and attempted genocide weighed just as heavily on the Israelites... or more so.  Maybe like Moses, I should change my question from "who am I" to asking God "who are you?"

"The beautiful is as useful as the useful."

 I'm trudging through the 1000+ pages of Les Mis and am finding it surprisingly good.  The writing is perceptive.  Okay, it's more romantic than realistic, but that's what art does, right?  We need to think about how things could be. It tests our boundaries and questions our ready assumptions.  Literature is a quiet but persistent alarm clock that wakes us up to the possibilities that lie just below the surface of our everyday experience.

I don't just say this on a theoretical level.  Reading Alain de Botton's How Proust Can Change Your Life opened up the possibility of applying good books to my life.  Because a good book can change your life given the opportunity.  I've experienced the barbaric yawp and energy of reading a new book that introduces me to a brand new perspective.  It's amazing!

A good piece of literature, especially one of the long, winding novels of Tolstoy or Hugo or George Elliot, etc., will also wheedle out of you some of the internal struggles I'm working out.  For instance, I'm working out my conflicting ideas and emotions about pretty things.

Even though I agree with my uncle's cheeky observation: "the bishop seems to be the second best person ever to walk the earth." I've had this quotation from Les Mis about the bishop in my mind's slow cooker for the past couple of weeks:

.... The paths enclosed four square plots bordered with box. Mme Magloire grew vegetables in three of these, and the bishop had planted flowers in the fourth.  There were a few fruit trees. Mme Magloir once said teasingly to him: 'Monseigneur, you believe in making use of everything, but this fourth plot is wasted. Salads are more useful than flowers.' 'You are wrong,' replied the bishop. 'The beautiful is as useful as the useful.' Then, after a pause, he added: 'More so, perhaps.' (p. 38)

To overvalue utility and practicality can be dangerous.  That was one of my biggest concerns with public school.  There was so much emphasis on these nebulous yet highly quantified curriculum.  Can a teacher teach character outside of plot?

More recently, I've felt the danger of utilitarianism as I sit in my cubicle for ten-hour stretches.  Dear God, it's soul crushing!  The cream walls, the gray carpet, the felted cubicle, the plastic desk leeches my personality out of me.  I can feel myself turning into a zombie or a ghost.  I need to do more research to decide which one-- or, maybe, it just depends on the day.

So, I've started a campaign of pretty and cheer!  It started with the gnome.  Then, dark chocolate.  Now, we're into $3.99 Trader Joe's bouquets.  Also, a side campaign of a spritz of Chanel's Chance Eau Fraiche to each wrist to add some smell pretty.  And wearing cute clothes and shoes is beating the utilitarian blah's.

My coworkers were poking fun of me... especially the 23 year-old boys. But, they're starting to buy into the cheer and pretty campaign.  One day the boy who sits next to me told me, "I'm going to wear my new shirt tomorrow."  "What color is it?" I asked.  He answered, "You'll have to wait and see."  The shirt was a little Miami Vice for my taste, but it's a start. Before you know it, he's going to have something quirky in his cube too.

The core of my pretty and cheer campaign is my walk during my lunch break.  There's something magical about going outside, watching people and animals, and just enjoying the blue or gray sky, the sound of the water, the excitement of bird sightings.  At the heart of the campaign is worship: awareness of a good God and humbleness and gratefulness.  To quote VH again on the bishop:

He pondered on the greatness and living presence of God, on the mystery of eternity in the future and, even more strange, eternity in the past, on all the infinity manifest to his eyes and to his senses; and without seeking to comprehend the incomprehensible he contemplated these things. He did not scrutinize God but let his eyes be dazzled. He pondered on the sublime conjunction of atoms that gives matter its substance; that reveals forces in discovering them, creates the separate within the whole, proportion within immensity, countless numbers within infinity; and through light gives birth to beauty. This conjunction, this ceaseless joining and disjoining, is life and death. (p.67)

rough start

Yesterday, I ate a traditional Southern New Year's meal:  Collard greens (dollars), black-eyed peas (coins=luck), corn bread (gold), and pork (supposedly, pigs are the one animal that can't walk backwards-- aren't they considered really smart too?  hmm...).  The more you eat, the better your luck is.  I skipped lunch so I could eat two helpings of everything!!!

However, I did not succumb to the tradition of New Year's resolutions. The only resolution I make is not to go to a gym in January. I think they're silly because the things I need to work on are going to take the rest of my lifetime.  However, I'm trying to become a better listener.  There was actually a class on listening one summer at Regent.  My friend Tim took it; he graciously laughed at most of my jokes about it.  But, now I think at a point in my maturity (intellectual, emotional, and spiritual) where I would benefit from that class... instead of see it as joke fodder.

I decided to go kayaking on January 1st would be a brilliant way to kick off the new year. I made this decision without checking the weather forecast.  It rained... and, apparently, I'm not an avid enough outdoorswoman.  I went and got a makeover at a store-- if you can't kayak, you might as well play with makeup.

Today a belt in my car broke while I was driving.  I called my mechanic, and he told me he'd look at it.   He fixed it.  I was super glad it happened this afternoon instead of 9:30 pm on my drive home on the interstate.  

I think there's a lot of room for improvement in 2013-- from last year.  I sent a job application last night.  I'm going on a date with a new guy tomorrow.  Here's to possibility!

Here are the two quotations that I'm commonplacing for the new year.  I found them comforting and convicting:

I don’t fear that at the end God will ask why I wasn’t Moses (great leader) or Thomas Aquinas (towering intellect), but why I wasn’t myself.  -Miroslav Volf

"We have this idea that everyone should be...totally whole, totally together spiritually, and totally fulfilled. That is a myth. In reality, our lack of fulfillment is the most precious gift we have. It is the source of our passion, our creativity, our search for God. All the best of life comes out of our human yearning - our not being satisfied...." -Gerald Mays, quoted in "Water in My Soul" by Luci Shaw.


(I took the pictures on January 29th, 2012 on my lunch break.)

Thoughts on Anna Karenina

A couple of weeks ago I went to see the completely crappy Gerrard Butler flick in lieu of Anna Karenina, the trailer, because I was afraid I'd be disappointed by Keira Knightly.  Big mistake.

Today I went to see Anna Karenina with my uncle for his birthday. He's a Tolstoy fanatic (and I mean that as a true compliment).  My mom, my aunt, and my cousin, an accomplished actor, came along too.

Anna

This movie was brilliant!  I want to see it again.  and again.  It's an interesting interpretation of the book.  I felt it remained true to the story without strictly following the plot.  Bravo, Tom Stoppard.  For instance, the dance scene where Vronsky transfers his 'love' from Kitty to Anna.  That's not how it happens in the book, but the viewer ends up with the same feeling as she does reading the book's scenes-- gut wrenched.  I also found the expected sophomoric humor true to Tolstoy too: dog poot and nose blowing.  Tolstoy paid a lot of attention to the material world and to details that would never be filed under "high art". It's true to life that funny things happen at the most inopportune times.

I felt the movie took advantage of the visual cues: color, the theater, some of the shots are amazing... even if it occasionally was over the top.

Karenin

My biggest disappointment: Karenin.  Jude Law turned the detestable character into an almost likable bloke.  I take issue with this.  In the book, he's the epitome of frigid obligation.  He's narrow and rigid. He makes the reader's skin crawl without a single misstep.  He has no clue how to be human.  He has no friends.  He turns love into a formula.  He turns the gospel into a formula.  His forgiveness serves as a death sentence to Anna because of his incapability to love or receive or give grace.  Jude Law's Karenin is warm-blooded, which makes Anna out to be more of a tart than in actuality.  Tolstoy's Karenin would leech the life and spirit out of any passionate woman-- any woman.

I enjoyed how stylized the picture was.  I especially liked the completely choreographed bureaucracy  scene-- as were the society scenes.  Tolstoy felt the same way about bureaucracy and society; he was no fan.  I liked Levin, although I always imagined him older and bald.  Trust me, the movie's version was far easier on the eyes than my mind's eye's version.

The quotation: "There are as many loves as their are hearts" has gotten a lot of attention.  I believe Stoppard used it as the organizing point of his movie adaptation. I think Tolstoy makes a strong case that is limited to the character of the person who offers it: Karenin, Oblonsky, Vronsky, and Levin are capable of very different types of love-- some more true and real.  However, I don't think Tolstoy was a postmodernist.  He had more in mind that character flaws are limitations on one's ability to love.

Oblonsky

For example, the affable character Oblonsky; he's a chummy cad that one cannot help but like whose early dalliance caused the meeting between Anna and Vronsky.  (Is that a comment on how connected we are to one another and how are personal sin affects others?)  But, his inability to remain true to his wife Dolly is linked throughout the story to his debt.  He sells Dolly's land/dowry in order to cover his debts.  He lacks discipline and self control, which punishes his family.  He loves Dolly, but his love is limited to his refusal to restrain himself.  He is ruled by his appetites.   Whereas, Levin is almost the opposite: his honor almost prevents him asking Kitty to marry him again.  Then, there is Karenin who is incapable of love.  Does Vronsky love Anna?  That's the question my mom asked at the end of the film, and it's a good one.  I answered to the degree he was able.

 It's a thought-provoking film well worth seeing.

Christmas 2012 musings

Yowsers: AL's Xmas tree! 

It was a nice holiday.  I was sick for the first half but recovered in time to partake in the edibles!  It was a good reminder of how good life is: family, friends, food, time to relax and laugh.  I really enjoyed being with my family.  We did practically nothing.  We ate French Onion Soup, my brother and I watched Looney Tunes.  My mom said, "This is a great reminder of the role of family... even with their foibles... they are your family."  My aunt went all out with her party, and it was lovely.  The devil is in the details.

My Silly Brother

We did manage to go to the Christmas Eve service-- it was the contemporary music service, but the sermon was fantastic.  The pastor compared the article in Us Weekly about the preparations for Prince William and Kate's baby and Jesus's birth.  I was really struck by his comment about the prophesies about Bethlehem, and how they did nothing to spruce it up for the Messiah.  The parallels in my life run rampant.

The other thing that really struck me this time is the star.  It's beautiful that a) nature was drawn to Jesus and b) Jesus met the Magi in their language/vocation/passion.

Yes, please

The other difference this year was having to work Christmas Eve.  It wasn't bad, but it was a good reminder of how tough some people's lives are.  All I could think about were the poor mamas who had to work a shift at Wal-Mart or a grocery store and then come home to be Santa.  I also realized what a service working is.  We drove by a pharmacy open on Christmas-- can you imagine needing medicine and not being able to get it?

Also, Christmas cards and texts from friends were really sweet.  I felt loved.

So lovely!

I hope you had a happy, meaningful Christmas!

12/21/12... and I feel fine

It's the end of the world as we know it.  Yeah, REM.  Today was busy; I spoke with Essence and Inspiration and ate free pizza-- really what more could I ask for?  I thought the heron had abandoned our creek for somewhere warmer.  Instead, the bloke stood morose and somber-- he was ready for the end of the world... and a photo shoot.

Isn't he lovely?  I love his coloring, and how his feathers are blowing in the wind. He looks cold.

chats, grilled cheese, hope, art and "art"

Tattooed Pigs Fly

Origami Tree!!!

Tools: For the man who has everything

My "weekend" is Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.  It's a little weird but doable.  It's a great schedule for looking for a job.  This "weekend" really flew by.

A Hoot

Tuesday was wrapped up in talking with this headmaster of a school in Seattle.  Don't misinterpret: I'm a long ways away from accepting a job offer.  But, I wanted to chat with someone before I embarked on the rather daunting application process.  There are several essays and such... it reminded me of college apps really.  After discussing with the head of school, I decided the essays would be a good exercise for me anyway; they'd help me clarify what I have to offer and what I want from a position. I cannot tell you how pivotal this conversation was in my perspective, compounded with some letters and journaling I did this past week.  I even bought a 2013 All Sport Season's Pass at the White Water Center.  I want to go at least once a week!

Cupcake Tree!

Chill Wednesday: my shoulders hurt when I went to bed and hurt when I woke up so I got an hour long CHINESE MASSAGE, which put me in a mood for a great hike, received an email about teaching English in Rwanda this summer!!!!, curse at fellow drivers while I listen to the Gospel of John on CD (I'm that bad but so was their driving), consider the irony, brow wax, discuss providence, good works, tattoos, nose rings, meet a good friend at one restaurant, apologize to bartender and leave for half-price wine at another one, fall in love with Llama Malbec, buy a hat at Nordstrom's, read some in Les Mis.

one of the misses

before they were dry

Grilled Cheese Thursday: got up at 6 am, chatted and read, went back to bed.  Woke up second time at 10:13am to two  calls from my favorite neighbor. called neighbor back and made lunch plans. bought one pound of  Neese's Extra Sage Sausage. went to lunch with neighbor ate a Blackberry Brie Grilled Cheese with Tomato Basil soup at Spindle City.  proceeded across the street to the Art Guild.  chatted with the artist and enjoyed the broad range of art.  some were hits and some were misses.  Impressed my favorite neighbor; she asked me, "Were you pulling that lady's leg? Were you just making that up?" I told her, "I did take some art in college, but I mostly shot from the hip."  Fav neighb responded, "Well, we made her day." Made work-intensive, dry Sausage balls. Drove to the String Bean to meet a friend who ended up getting lost.  Drank a beer and journaled the hour away. Ate another grilled cheese.  Had a great conversation about the Hobbit, demons, smartphones.  Thoroughly enjoyed our friendship.

Pillow Cake= Comfort Food?

climbing opossums and post-it notes

 Sometimes I complain life doesn't hold enough surprises. Last week broke up the monotony. On Friday, a mass murder of kindergarteners that shakes us briefly out of complacence.

Then, on Sunday, at the opposite end of the spectrum, this opossum clambered up a tree before work.  We stood transfixed by the grotesque and compelling feat.  It was the first time several of my coworkers had seen a live one.  He seemed to be attempting to escape his fate. He was high in a tall oak, getting as far away as possible from the street.  My office is really near uptown, so the opossum was out of his element.

As I settle into this job, I realize that I find cubicles, pale yellow paint, bullet-point facts, and bureaucracy soul crushing.  I don't like being leashed by a computer monitoring system or a headset.  

Then again, I'm realizing I really enjoy talking with (most) people.  I'm learning I enjoy working with words-- I really like composing notes and letters.  It's really fun to come up with ways to state the same information in a more bearable sentence-- we're really about packaging.  I also realize how much I value movement and getting to go outside.  I also like being around young people... but smart people too.  I also really like bright post-it notes.  I go through at least one pack a week.  Related, I really like to write lists and doodle, and I prefer blue pens to black. 

While I'm tripping down Know Thyself lane, I've caught myself clinging to an offhand comment a friend made about learning to accept yourself as you are in your 30's.  As I was in the midst of a really craptastic day, I went on a walk and bought Les Mis.  Life became bearable after the walk and reading 50 pages.  I only snapped one more time after that: a guy had the audacity to assert I had a Master's in education.  So, I need to accept that I like reading, being outside, physical activity, and snap when irritated.  I'm surrounded by people that don't get excited... ever.  Dude, I get excited about post-it notes, first names (Retina and Amiracle), and some of my doodles.  I have a map in my cubicle so that I can figure out where people are-- and I circle the places.  But, the flip-side to being easily excited is that I'm easily upset.  And in accepting my high level of excitability, I can better appreciate the attributes of my colleagues low level excitability.

Life is a collage of the intense and mundane, the esoteric and the everyday.  Navigation is forever tricky.  Life seemed far more manageable when I was 15 years-old.  Instead of applying a wrecking ball to everything I hate, I think I need to listen more, look more, understand more-- some people refer to it as "wisdom".  I listened to Isaiah last week and was struck by God's sovereignty and by the phrase "eyes that do not see and ears that do not hear and hearts that don't understand."

P.S.  So far, Les Mis is fantastic.

Handel's Messiah

The ad 

Some people celebrated 12/12/12 with wedding nuptials.  My family celebrated it with traditional Advent. Last night, I took my mom to dinner and Handel's Messiah.  It was an enjoyable evening (better than some weddings I've attended).  It felt apropos since she was the one who introduced me to the music.  When I was little, I remember the woman playing the timpani, the color of the trumpet, and the audience standing for the Hallelujah chorus. The program had the text in its entirety with the Bible verses, which was helpful.  Now, I really like the choruses: I'm not sure if that's due to maturity or theological development or mere coincidence.

We went to Harvest Moon Grille for dinner.  It's one of those hipster joints that only uses local food.  It was delish! Mom got the kale salad and smoked chicken breast.  I got the roasted squash salad and pork shank.  I've never had sweet potatoes au gratin before, but they were good.  Even the butter was local and yummy.

xmas tourist

I had one fun day yesterday... equally relaxing and stimulating.  Fun was much needed as I've been an uptight stress bunny the past couple of days.  But, fun is full of magic and reorientates my perspective.

I went to see the horrid new Gerrard Butler movie.  I sat through the entire thing waiting for it to get better.  But, it didn't.  (Sorry, if I ruined it for you.)  I should of gone to Anna Karenina, but I was afraid it would be disappointing because I love the book.  I don't think it could have been more disappointing than this dud; I despised how vapid it made out women to be.

Then we went to a French restaurant where I demolished this amazing smoked salmon croissant and some skinny fries and window shopped at the fancy stores that sell what NYC people where.  It's the stuff I read about in magazines.  It's nice to see it in real life.  I contend clothes boutiques are art galleries.  Shoes, dresses, etc. are beautiful and innovative.

It was cold. So when my aunt left to go to get ready for her appointment, I had to go by my favorite consignment shop.  I fell in love with this teal cashmere sweater, cool but decent jeans, and these Katherine Hepburn-esque/ Lauren Bacall-esque pants.  I was such a dork: I asked the sales girls to cut off the tags so I could wear them right then (sweater and jeans).  And, I changed right there.  I felt fantastic and adventurous that I headed to uptown.

After snagging a parking spot, I went around snapping really bad shots of cool decorations.  About five people came up to me and chatted while I was taking pictures.  I discussed with a homeless guy the possibility that they'd keep the lights up after Christmas.  We both they'll keep the tree garden one with blue lights up year-round.  The lights transform the corner from scary to magical.

An artistic Christmas tree

Then, I ended up at the Mint for their Tuesday night FREEdom.  Because of my work schedule, I miss worship services.  It's gotten to the point I'd even go to a bad one with cheesy music and lackluster preaching just to go.  But, the museum felt sacred in the sense that it's set apart.  Beauty points to a good and big God and reminds you that there are elements to reality that are not visible to the naked eye.

And, I happened upon this lecture by Joseph Walsh this artist that uses wood as his medium.  It was a fantastic lecture: nice looking guy, Irish accent, beautiful slides, and interesting ideas that I'd never considered.

It's nice to escape the grinding monotony of everyday every once in a while, right?  Even if it's a mini-adventure in your city.

the wormy scarflet

Like most of my endeavors, there's a distinct hit-or-miss factor to my knitting.  What I lack in talent, I make up for in ingenuity and ignorance. I'm pleased with my latest "creation".  I don't even know what I should call it.  Scarflet? Mini scarf with button? Neck-knit?

Ingredients:
two funky yarns that Joy spun together for me.
1 faux-celtic button.
1 plain button.
Some black stretchy string.
Ribbon.
An old scarf my mom bought for me in Wilmington at an arts fair.

I think I like knitting.  I'm not really interested in intricate patterns or all the different types of knitting.  I'm really interested in the materials, juxtaposition, and color.  I need pretty, soft yarn to get me interested in a project.

I may go to the yarn store tomorrow to stock up on some more chunky yarn to make some scarflets for Christmas presents.

It feels awesome: warm and snuggly.  I need to get someone to my picture while I'm wearing it.

Tis the Season

dude sunbathing with Christmas wreath in background

The weather has been insanely gorgeous.  Today, December 4th, I ate lunch outside.  I ate with hygienic disposable chopsticks and discussed badminton, ethics, and inerrancy.  Then, I sat on a bench next to a fountain with a latte and finally finished JK Rowling's Casual Vacancy.

Then, I met my mentoring group to eat cheeseburgers and walk McAdenville, aka Christmasville, USA.  I felt like an ambassador for my county.  I quasi-explained mill hills and textile manufacturing while defending Southern rednecks.  Um, it's not like we have a monopoly on rednecks-- ours are just more entertaining.

My hometown: even better in person

P.S. I got a camera... let the rumpus start.

Watch for the Light

I can't wait for Advent!*  December 2nd: the count-down is on.  I taught a class on Advent last year, which served as a great excuse to sprinkle my blog with advent poems and such.  No doubt there will be some of that this year. 

For a lot of history, the church has treated Advent in the same manner they treated Lent; there was more longing and penitence and less  shopping and decorating.  We miss so much skipping over Advent: a punch line needs a joke.  We don't do waiting in our culture-- we're far too important and busy.

I've been on a quest for a good Advent devotional book, a guide: Watch for the Light.  In this context, "good" means intelligent not sentimental, insightful not cliche, what I need to hear not what I want to hear.

I think I may have found it... after reading November 24th's reading, Blumhardt's "Action in Waiting":

".... We live in a mass of wrongs and untruths, and they surround us as a dark, dark night. Not even in the most flagrant things do we manage to break through....

"Anyone whose attention is fixed on the coming reign of God and who wants to see a change brought about in God's house will become more and more aware that there exists a universal wrongness that is pulled over us like a choking, suffocating blanket." (5-6)

"We must speak in practical terms.  Either Christ's coming has meaning for us now, or else it means nothing at all." (10)

"The all-important thing is to keep your eyes on what comes from God and to make way for it to come into being here on earth. If you always try to be heavenly and spiritually minded, you won't understand the everyday work God has for you to do...." (12)

Humble thyself.  "Because a transformation of this scale can never be achieved by human means, but only by divine intervention, Advent (to quote Bonhoeffer again) might be compared to a prison cell 'in which one waits and hope and does various unessential things... but is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside.' It is a fitting metaphor. But dependency does not release us from responsibility. If the essence of Advent is expectancy, it is also readiness for action: watchfulness for every opening, and willingness to risk everything for freedom and a new beginning." (xvi)

I like how the writers lean into the tension of watching and willingness.  In fact, I need it.

I'll close with the poem the book opens:

Lo, in the silent night

A child to God is born

And all is brought again

That ere was lost or lorn.

Could but thy soul, O man,

Become a silent night!

God would be born in thee

And set all things aright!

                              15th Century

*Haha, a little Advent humor.

A Collect for Fridays... and Mand ;)

Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord. Amen.
(A Collect for Fridays, Morning Prayer II in the Common Book of Prayer)

This collect states the difference between Jesus and Oprah.  Maybe there's more to life than being nice, happy, and comfortable.  Maybe we're a little more broken than we let on. Then again, maybe I haven't done enough navel gazing recently.

And, since it's Thanksgiving, one more from the Book of Common Prayer-- it's got a little kick:

The General Thanksgiving

Almighty God, Father of all mercies,
we your unworthy servants give you humble thanks
for all your goodness and loving-kindness
to us and to all whom you have made.
We bless you for your creation, preservation,
and all the blessings of this life;
but above all for your immeasurable love
in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;
for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.
And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies,
that with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise,
not only with our lips, but in our lives,
by giving up our selves to your service,
and by walking before you
in holiness and righteousness all our days;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit,
be honor and glory throughout the ages. Amen.

notes on thank you

People don’t write thank notes; they write thank you notes.  Similarly, the meaning of thanksgiving isn’t for what you’re thankful but to whom you give thanks. 

As Americans our gratitude list is long.  Perhaps, it’s one of the longest lists in history. Hot showers and well-stocked grocery stores are amazing.

Feeling gratitude is mood enhancing and good psychology although it isn’t the purpose of thanksgiving. Gifts, which most impacted my life, never filled me with gratitude.  Braces, tenth grade, and rowing practice come to mind.  These three things improved me, but I rarely felt thankful when I couldn’t chew gum or studied Modern World History or woke up at 4:45am.  I never thanked God for the opportunity to have a corrected overbite or read primary texts or participate in Title IX athletics.

It’s about to whom you give thanks.  I fall into an uncomfortable mishmash of self-congratulation and sense of entitlement when I’m not focused on God as the giver of things good. My life starts being all about me.  The value of my job, my friends, and my hobbies decreases as each becomes an obstacle to my self-actualization.

Appreciating God as the cause of all my thanks grounds me.  It’s about God.  Of course, this statement begs the question of situations of unemployment, cancer, infertility, natural disasters, and all other struggles.  This essay is far too simple to address this theological complexity. However, I thank God for his goodness and power as mysterious and beyond my ability to understand as they are.  Thanking and praising God reorient me to reality—the reality that’s much bigger and far beyond me. Thank God.

inner yogi conquers sigh

My inner yogi is a contemplative.  She's not prone to competition, contortion, or consumerism.  Not that I've ever heard her talk, but these are facts I've gleaned over the years.

Her inhibition set in on her maiden yoga class in the Student Recreation Center at the college we were attending.  The instructor and I got off on the wrong foot because I asked, "What are your sit bones?" The instructor sighed her disdain, and my friend mouthed to me, "YOUR BUTT."  That was just the beginning.

The instructor circulated like a dedicated mall security guard.  It was intense, and I heard her sigh every time she came by me.  She attempted to give me hints, but stopped trying.  Finally, these words escaped her lips, "You're not even trying."  I was sweating from my attempt at all the insanity, but my bones would crack and my muscles snap before I could pull off some of these feats.  I've never been flexible on any plane of existence.  I've been able to touch my toes with straight legs approximately twice in my life.  From then one, she merely sighed while passing me and my aching body.

But there's no such thing as a mere sigh when it comes to her. Yoga instructors are masters of le sigh: sighing as art form and weapon.  It's all the breathing exercises. There may be an entire class devoted to sighing with a part one and two. It's two-fold power is: 1) it wilts your soul with disdain and disgust and 2) creates smug cloud that affects your oxygen levels much like hiking just the peaks in the Himalayas (if that were possible).  I can't breathe; I'm getting light-headed. Furthermore, le sigh connotes spiritual enlightenment (the instructor's not yours), which is the nail in the coffin of doom.

Perhaps, your defeat is supposed to lead to limpness, which translates into flexibility.  Not so in my case.  I got frustrated-- one might even say "angry", and my inner yogi curled up in the fetal position to die.  Turns out, inner yogi is no feminist.  Inner yogis are not to be confused with pet spider monkeys who aim to please and adore learning tricks.

My inner yogi remained curled up in the fetal position, and I continued making jokes about how much I hate yoga until... OLD LADY YOGA at my local Y.  We're talking roughly a decade. So,  I went to the class because of my weird work schedule, and I was so stiff from sitting so much that I was willing to try anything... even yoga with a defeated inner yogi.

Maybe it was the sweat pants and white tube socks in lieu of lulelemon uniforms.  Maybe the instructor had abandoned the art of the sigh due to all the hearing aids.  Maybe it was my desperation.  But, my inner yogi uncurled herself and lay on the floor and even joined me for sitting crisscross applesauce (even though she did ask, "She means indian style, right?")  She really didn't mind any of the low-key exercises.  Turns out, she's a minimalist who isn't prone to exhibitionism in any form and allergic to sighs.