Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Update
Some of the current events of life, in all its tragic beauty.
Well, firstly, my grandfather has been in and out of intensive care for the past month or so. He is struggling with the loss of his ability to swallow. His doctor asked my dad if he wanted to put my grandpa on life support, which my dad decided to do. My grandfather now has a feeding tube going directly from his stomach to a food pump, but no one's quite sure how long it will last. Prayers about this, my friends. We knew it would have to come eventually, but that never really prepares you for what it's like to lose a loved one.
My family recently finished putting a fence around our whole back yard. This is excellent for the dogs, and is something we've been thinking about doing for years. Hoorah!
I am officially an R.A. next year, about which I am both excited and extremely nervous. I'm pretty sure I'll make a good R.A., I just have trepidations about the time commitment.
There is a road trip being panned for this summer!! More to come on that later. We're going through New York (the state), near Albany, into Canada, and back down and out into Boston. Not sure this is the best idea when gas is $3.80 a gallon, but, on the upside, it'll probably only get worse from here on out, so really, we're getting it in just on the tail end of our ability to do so!
I'll be working on a new behavioral therapy program for kids who have autism over the summer with Josh's neuropsychologist.
I had the most amazing piece of cake I've ever eaten today.
Ignorant, rude people should always be taken in stride, and remember, the patience you possess which allows you to reflect on yourself and not grow bitter is what differentiates you from them, so, be the better man, I suppose.
Oh, and I've been increasingly struck with the ineptitude of some of the parents of my friends recently. The best advice I have garnered from this? Don't have kids unless you're ready, and unless you're willing to unconditionally love them with the fullest extent of your being.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Poetry
Just thought I'd put some work up. Eh, everything in stride, I've just been feeling more creative of late.
The Swingset
Hey! I like you,
and Remember! that time I
Spilled! juice on your
pants?
(feet planted like sugarcane stalks)
(dirty and slow, soles mingling with dust)
(Draaaaag, kick)
(Draaaaag, kick)
(Push off, lunar landing style)
the sky is
Pink!
I’ll race you,
And!
if I could,
Fly!
today, these arms would
Reach!
out over
Your!
tall power lines.
and Hey!
I liiiike you
(Grindddd.)
It was the dirty ones
with no love in their hearts
that took the seat and his chain
and threw them to the cold of the sky
to drape, in death, over cold metal bars
a facsimile of a sham of a swing.
Benthic Trembling Star Voices
If you've never read A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L'Engle: A) You need to get on that. The library has two copies. And B) Farandolae are these wonderful and quite possible imaginary entities within mitochondria which act as the rythymic instruments which pulsate and create the life within a mitochondria. Oh, and if you aren't a science person, I suppose there should be C) Mitochondria are the energy makers within each of our cells, but which are entirely subject unto themselves, and are the only things within our entire body which contain their own unique set of DNA, separate from ours. Which is really, when you think about it, quite wonderfully amazing.
Farandolae
And waving.
whittling fronds from paper cells,
pasting in eyes, and glass pieces of eight.
Which break upon the teeth.
A reflection of the smiles
strung upon my plastic
menagerie
You.
Sweet, desperate vacuum.
That our efforts long to fill
in every place at once.
For love.
Mito
en
sito, with
Con, taken down and beaten blue,
gasps
of air
for flailing alveoli
dance
splits the goddess of, Dria.
Contractions force the movement
out of the static hands.
Work.
Relative
Related to
Quanta.
Apoptosis forgot to cut
that part of me
the farandolae waving,
the benthic trembling star voices.
Benign
And to the tip of my tongue this falls
you asked, for it to be there
it is the scrap metal of fear
it is the rusty screw and driving nail of my contortions
I am your machine.
There will be thank you’s emitted from high squeaking mouths,
wrenched by guilt, flooded by the naked sap of grief,
soaked in it.
Stunted.
And wilting.
Bitter sand paper grates the skin from my hands
as I rub faster,
to make your tomes
these, the decrepit dichotomies in diatribe,
to make language on pages where no word should trod.
This is the effort of your slaves,
of your queens,
Of the sad sweet cinnamon tales.
Monotony becomes my eyes and my lips and my feet and my breasts
Just to be your machine.
I am once held, yet again released on leash,
forever a prisoner bound,
forever lusting after the sweetness of air.
you asked, for it to be there
it is the scrap metal of fear
it is the rusty screw and driving nail of my contortions
I am your machine.
There will be thank you’s emitted from high squeaking mouths,
wrenched by guilt, flooded by the naked sap of grief,
soaked in it.
Stunted.
And wilting.
Bitter sand paper grates the skin from my hands
as I rub faster,
to make your tomes
these, the decrepit dichotomies in diatribe,
to make language on pages where no word should trod.
This is the effort of your slaves,
of your queens,
Of the sad sweet cinnamon tales.
Monotony becomes my eyes and my lips and my feet and my breasts
Just to be your machine.
I am once held, yet again released on leash,
forever a prisoner bound,
forever lusting after the sweetness of air.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
To: Miss Kellina Kathryn Lupas
A letter to myself.
Dear Miss Kellina,
I would advise you to take patience with your life. Know that you are loved and appreciated. Realize the fact that while suffering happens within individuals, healing happens best within a community. Never lose your love of Irish music, or of dancing around the kitchen in socks and pretending you are the Lord of the Dance. Always remember extraneous facts, such as the idea that the pineapple is just a glorified nut. Be silly, especially with children. You know you love it when their little faces light up with joy when you make silly voices, and tell them stories about how we can run atoms on tracks underneath Arizona and make them hit a wall and split apart with the force of a nuclear explosion. Always, always, always be a critical thinker. Never stop reading and learning. Life is not simply an exhortation to get old, it is an invitation to celebrate. Love the summer, revel in the winter snowflakes, dance in the spring, laugh in the fall; realize that hibernation is not just for bears, sometimes. Remember the Nutcracker whenever you encounter a particularly snowy evening or morning.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your soul. Take time out of every day to get down in earnest prayer and say, "God is this what you want for me?" Be a mindful being, not simply moving through this world, but really dwelling within this magnificent earth. Be idealistic. Someone has to be. Realize that it mattered for that one starfish.
Take time to be artistic. Take time to appreciate the greatest artist of them all. Remember when dad told you that God sometimes takes his huge paintbrush and sweeps it across the sky to make those clouds look so beautiful? There is no end to the beauty in creation. Get excited! Life is majestic. Don't feel weighted down with your internal battles. Be honest, and open.
Above all else, my sweet Kellina, be patient. Life is not a race, nor is it measured by how much we gain or lose in the material sense. You need to take time to develop, otherwise, like the beautiful lotus who bloomed too soon, you too will become stunted. Be feminine, be powerful, be wise, and open yourself to learning from others. Everything is possible through Him who dwells within me. You are loved.
Dear Miss Kellina,
I would advise you to take patience with your life. Know that you are loved and appreciated. Realize the fact that while suffering happens within individuals, healing happens best within a community. Never lose your love of Irish music, or of dancing around the kitchen in socks and pretending you are the Lord of the Dance. Always remember extraneous facts, such as the idea that the pineapple is just a glorified nut. Be silly, especially with children. You know you love it when their little faces light up with joy when you make silly voices, and tell them stories about how we can run atoms on tracks underneath Arizona and make them hit a wall and split apart with the force of a nuclear explosion. Always, always, always be a critical thinker. Never stop reading and learning. Life is not simply an exhortation to get old, it is an invitation to celebrate. Love the summer, revel in the winter snowflakes, dance in the spring, laugh in the fall; realize that hibernation is not just for bears, sometimes. Remember the Nutcracker whenever you encounter a particularly snowy evening or morning.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your soul. Take time out of every day to get down in earnest prayer and say, "God is this what you want for me?" Be a mindful being, not simply moving through this world, but really dwelling within this magnificent earth. Be idealistic. Someone has to be. Realize that it mattered for that one starfish.
Take time to be artistic. Take time to appreciate the greatest artist of them all. Remember when dad told you that God sometimes takes his huge paintbrush and sweeps it across the sky to make those clouds look so beautiful? There is no end to the beauty in creation. Get excited! Life is majestic. Don't feel weighted down with your internal battles. Be honest, and open.
Above all else, my sweet Kellina, be patient. Life is not a race, nor is it measured by how much we gain or lose in the material sense. You need to take time to develop, otherwise, like the beautiful lotus who bloomed too soon, you too will become stunted. Be feminine, be powerful, be wise, and open yourself to learning from others. Everything is possible through Him who dwells within me. You are loved.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Lazily
I'm just sitting here at my desk, reminiscing about Mexico. You see, currently there is just the slightest, sweetest breeze rolling in through my window, and I can hear the birds, but the day is still a bit chilly. And I remember how on my first 
trip to Oaxaca, we stayed at this hotel in the city called Casano del Llano, which means Big House on a Hill. We arrived, that first day, late in the night. We had walked all the way from the bus station, and I remember just being completely exhausted and excited all at once. I dropped my things at the end of my bed, marveled at the fact that there weren't any glass windows in the whole building, and promptly fell asleep.
What's triggering the memory now is the sensation I felt when I woke up that morning. The light was gently peeking through the window. It was chilly, but I was cozy in the bed. The room was full of the smell of fresh sheets and flowers. When I walked over to the window, the most beautiful, amazing sunrise greeted me. I'd never even seen a mountain before, and there I was, experiencing one of the most magical things any one of us can go through - a sunrise over the mountains. I just remember the day being crisp in a way I'd never felt before. Charged with energy, ready to give forth a beautiful, full day, resplendent with life and love, and hope.
Yeah, I just wanted to write about how beautiful Oaxaca is. Or was, I should say, before the civil war hit. *sigh* There is always hope, right?
That pic is of me painting faces in Sidihui.
trip to Oaxaca, we stayed at this hotel in the city called Casano del Llano, which means Big House on a Hill. We arrived, that first day, late in the night. We had walked all the way from the bus station, and I remember just being completely exhausted and excited all at once. I dropped my things at the end of my bed, marveled at the fact that there weren't any glass windows in the whole building, and promptly fell asleep.
What's triggering the memory now is the sensation I felt when I woke up that morning. The light was gently peeking through the window. It was chilly, but I was cozy in the bed. The room was full of the smell of fresh sheets and flowers. When I walked over to the window, the most beautiful, amazing sunrise greeted me. I'd never even seen a mountain before, and there I was, experiencing one of the most magical things any one of us can go through - a sunrise over the mountains. I just remember the day being crisp in a way I'd never felt before. Charged with energy, ready to give forth a beautiful, full day, resplendent with life and love, and hope.
Yeah, I just wanted to write about how beautiful Oaxaca is. Or was, I should say, before the civil war hit. *sigh* There is always hope, right?
That pic is of me painting faces in Sidihui.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Thoughts
So, I've been thinking about a lot of things lately, but I think I think perhaps for the sake of my own self-sane organization, I'll just kind of talk about them one at a time...
Firstly, I'm upset about the fact that my church, Christ Presbyterian, back home, is giving my mom such a hard time over this pastor nominating committee nonsense. To give some background, my church is currently in the process of looking for a pastor. "Looking for a pastor" means a whole slew of committees. That's the lovely bureaucratic side of the Presbytery of the Western Reserve. That whole idea aside, this committee is proving to be quite the sour apple. The guy who heads it up, excuse me, who declared himself the head, has some very outspoken and controversial opinions. Controversy isn't a bad thing, but when you've got a committee that is trying to find a new pastor, you kind of need a sense of unity. This leader is not providing that. According to my mom, he is bossy and forceful, who has taken the more persuadable members of the committee and made them his little cotillion of voters. My mom happens to be the only person on the committee who is willing to speak out, to disagree with some of the things this leader has put forth. And for that, she has been repeatedly attacked, even to the atrocious extent of getting inadvertently accused of being the "instrument of the devil." She's tired of fighting what feels like a losing battle. And it hurts me to hear this wonderful woman, who I love so dearly, getting repeatedly beaten down. I had no idea that this would be such an ordeal. In fact, I don't really think anyone could have predicted it. The lines of our lives are so intermingled...
Secondly, I have been thinking a lot about the way we interact with one another, which goes along, I suppose, with the committee thing. How often, in our lives, do we parry conflict with animosity and bitterness? I don't want to become bitter. All around me, I see good and wonderful people turn sour when they feel threatened. It breaks my heart. I believe that you only stir up further conflict when you respond to challenge with anger. With Christians, this is doubly hard. You and I are faced every day with challenges that we feel we are given to help us grow. This outlook is a great one to help keep you optimistic, but it kind of comes with this tail-end promise - you get more conflict when you recognize conflict is a means to growth. I think as we mature as Christians, God puts more and more challenge in our lives, and we are further called to rise to the occasion, and learn.
I think, then, that the opposite of accepting hardship in our lives, is the disengagement from our lives. And that can lead to a hard heart, and a lukewarm person. I don't want this for my life, and I'm ashamed to say that all too often this is how it works for me. It's so much easier to just detach myself, and be the objective leader and decision-maker. How much harder, to be an active participant in the strife, moving and changing with it.
Reading all about the atom bomb these past few weeks, and having heated discussions about its use, I've come to see the dark side of a dehumanized weapon. The scientists who created the bomb had no idea the impact that their technology, in the hands of the military, would have. they simply saw an unfinished science, and it excited them. Likewise, actually, the man who decided to drop the bomb, Truman, was detached from the effects of the bomb. He didn't have to tour Hiroshima and Nagasaki after they hit. He simply had to accept, with much joy and relief, the surrender issued by Hirohito and his military officers. Now, admittedly, the bomb was effective. In all likelihood, the war would have continued on much longer, and we would have had to lose many hundreds of thousands more lives to see Japan surrender. Fine, I'll admit efficiency. However, does that make it right? And what do you do about the fact that the bomb is intrinsically so impersonal? How do you rationalize the dehumanization of war?
The world isn't just made of pieces. We all live on this Earth, an inherent part of her system; we all breathe her air. I'm not going to say anything about, "Why can't we all just get along?" But I do want to point out some of the things that are happening to us, as we speak, and we need to be aware of them. How now shall we live?
Firstly, I'm upset about the fact that my church, Christ Presbyterian, back home, is giving my mom such a hard time over this pastor nominating committee nonsense. To give some background, my church is currently in the process of looking for a pastor. "Looking for a pastor" means a whole slew of committees. That's the lovely bureaucratic side of the Presbytery of the Western Reserve. That whole idea aside, this committee is proving to be quite the sour apple. The guy who heads it up, excuse me, who declared himself the head, has some very outspoken and controversial opinions. Controversy isn't a bad thing, but when you've got a committee that is trying to find a new pastor, you kind of need a sense of unity. This leader is not providing that. According to my mom, he is bossy and forceful, who has taken the more persuadable members of the committee and made them his little cotillion of voters. My mom happens to be the only person on the committee who is willing to speak out, to disagree with some of the things this leader has put forth. And for that, she has been repeatedly attacked, even to the atrocious extent of getting inadvertently accused of being the "instrument of the devil." She's tired of fighting what feels like a losing battle. And it hurts me to hear this wonderful woman, who I love so dearly, getting repeatedly beaten down. I had no idea that this would be such an ordeal. In fact, I don't really think anyone could have predicted it. The lines of our lives are so intermingled...
Secondly, I have been thinking a lot about the way we interact with one another, which goes along, I suppose, with the committee thing. How often, in our lives, do we parry conflict with animosity and bitterness? I don't want to become bitter. All around me, I see good and wonderful people turn sour when they feel threatened. It breaks my heart. I believe that you only stir up further conflict when you respond to challenge with anger. With Christians, this is doubly hard. You and I are faced every day with challenges that we feel we are given to help us grow. This outlook is a great one to help keep you optimistic, but it kind of comes with this tail-end promise - you get more conflict when you recognize conflict is a means to growth. I think as we mature as Christians, God puts more and more challenge in our lives, and we are further called to rise to the occasion, and learn.
I think, then, that the opposite of accepting hardship in our lives, is the disengagement from our lives. And that can lead to a hard heart, and a lukewarm person. I don't want this for my life, and I'm ashamed to say that all too often this is how it works for me. It's so much easier to just detach myself, and be the objective leader and decision-maker. How much harder, to be an active participant in the strife, moving and changing with it.
Reading all about the atom bomb these past few weeks, and having heated discussions about its use, I've come to see the dark side of a dehumanized weapon. The scientists who created the bomb had no idea the impact that their technology, in the hands of the military, would have. they simply saw an unfinished science, and it excited them. Likewise, actually, the man who decided to drop the bomb, Truman, was detached from the effects of the bomb. He didn't have to tour Hiroshima and Nagasaki after they hit. He simply had to accept, with much joy and relief, the surrender issued by Hirohito and his military officers. Now, admittedly, the bomb was effective. In all likelihood, the war would have continued on much longer, and we would have had to lose many hundreds of thousands more lives to see Japan surrender. Fine, I'll admit efficiency. However, does that make it right? And what do you do about the fact that the bomb is intrinsically so impersonal? How do you rationalize the dehumanization of war?
The world isn't just made of pieces. We all live on this Earth, an inherent part of her system; we all breathe her air. I'm not going to say anything about, "Why can't we all just get along?" But I do want to point out some of the things that are happening to us, as we speak, and we need to be aware of them. How now shall we live?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Postsecret
I don't know if any of you have ever been here, but Post Secret is quite the nifty blog. It's basically just a compilation of postcards that have been sent to this guy, on which people don't put a return address or their name, but they do put a secret about their life. They're inspiring and interesting, and the guy has written a couple books of compilations of his favorite cards.
Here you go.
Here you go.
Once Upon a Time
Monday, January 14, 2008
Snowflakes
Today I received quite a wonderful and needed lesson. As most of you well know, today saw the first snow in a couple of weeks here in Athens. As beautiful as it was, I found myself rushing from place to place today, my mind wholly intent on completing the chores on my list. As I walked rapidly, seeing only the next step in front of my shoes, the snow kept getting in my eyes. All morning it was like this, go into class or a store, come out, and there was that darned snow again. I have to admit, by noon today it was really starting to tick me off. That is of course, until I realized that the only reason the snow kept getting in my eyes, and blinding me as I walked, was that I was walking so fast. The minute I slowed down, the snow just settled into sweet downward drifts around my face and onto my hat.
As often as I told myself on the plane back home from Honduras, and as often as I told myself that I would take the lesson of calmness from Montana, I still find myself slipping back into the anxious old habits. Today I feel like God left a sweet little package on my doorstep that said: "You could learn from this." I love little presents.
As often as I told myself on the plane back home from Honduras, and as often as I told myself that I would take the lesson of calmness from Montana, I still find myself slipping back into the anxious old habits. Today I feel like God left a sweet little package on my doorstep that said: "You could learn from this." I love little presents.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
A Very Vivacious Horse
So, today, I was driving down this back road with my little brother, and as we turned around a corner, I saw off to the side the most beautiful farm. The snow lay on the ground, shimmering as the occasional ray of sun lit upon it. And as I looked, bounding across the field came these four gorgeous horses. I'm sure you can imagine the sight, the horses kicking up snow as they happily raced towards the fence, the snow catching the sunlight as it flew through the air. I looked back for a quick glance and said to my brother, "Look at how pretty that is!" Too involved in his book, he didn't look up. Turning back to the front, I had the shock of my life. One of the horses running at the fence took a flying leap...and cleared the five foot fence, right into my car. Slamming on my breaks, I saw the horse glance off the side of my car and stumble back into the small grass berm near the fence. As I came to a screeching stop, I watch it pause, and then, almost unbelievably, race off to rejoin its friends in a new race. This time, however, it was very dangerously on the wrong side of the fence, where it could be hurt worse by a new car. Pulling off to the side of the road, I found myself quickly besieged by five other cars who had seen me smack the horse, and who actually knew how to wrangle the crazy thing back into the paddock.
I have no idea how the horse got over the fence, but as I looked, what I think was more miraculous was that the horse didn't seem to be hurt at all. My car did not come away so lucky. I had a gigantic dent in my back end. Oh, well, c'est la vie. At least the horse came away okay.
Phewww...
I have no idea how the horse got over the fence, but as I looked, what I think was more miraculous was that the horse didn't seem to be hurt at all. My car did not come away so lucky. I had a gigantic dent in my back end. Oh, well, c'est la vie. At least the horse came away okay.
Phewww...
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