Dear Anonymous,

It is not amusing to pull the fire alarm and evacuate the building in the middle of the night during finals.

Certainly not twice.

So, whoever you are, I hope you're on videotape. I hope they catch you and do things to you that would make the guys at Guantanamo blush. I hope you fail your finals.

Rawr.

Brian is not happy when he's awake and doesn't want to be.

Pray I never find you.

Yours truly,

An (Awake and) Annoyed Resident of Richardson Towers South

My dearest lover,

I wanted to remind you

of my virulent love:


Laughing merrily,

you have no idea how many hours I spent

Poking the night's velvet full of countless twinkling pinholes,

Skipping golden continents across the churning still oceans

into each other,

Building up mountains brick by brick,

and holding My lamp high over all things

green and beautiful.


I gave you life to cherish and love

to shelter,

but you would rather take My

words, dripping from poets' lips,

and bend them into books

full of arcane rules and argue over

whose is most beautiful.


Lover?


Look up

into My eyes

and tell Me that you love Me, too


--it's been such a long time.

Ain't that just how life goes?

As it turns out,

what I thought

was the smell of skunk

tracked in by a dirty roommate

was really the scent

of my leftover couscous

rotting in a bowl

by the sink.


Ain't that just how life goes?


Sometimes God ain't got no mercy.

Note to a Friend

Last night as I lay in bed trying to sleep,

God whispered your name in my ear

So I quietly whispered it back

With a little prayer attached.


I hope all is well.

Ah, School . . .

So I received an email from my Political Science professor a couple days ago saying that he wouldn't be able to make it to class today.

Because he was going to Cancun.

However, he said that he had gotten an important and interesting speaker to take his place for the day. He said the speaker would be taking role, so it was of utmost importance that we attend class.

Who was this speaker?

A movie.

And not even a documentary about international relations. Just one of his favorite movies.

Oh, and he lied about the attendance sheet. He just handed the movie to one of the guys who is also in another of his classes.

I, to put it mildly, was a little miffed.

Especially since I'm sick and have about a million other things to do.

Like my 15-page English paper.

Or my 8-page Anthropology paper.

Or my 10-page History paper.

Or the presentation I have to put together for his class.

It is very hard to take a class seriously when the professor doesn't, especially when you have a million other things to do.

This semester is the worst so far.

Hearing and Listening

I found Him sitting on an old tree stump spitting wisdom on people too smart to want knowledge.

Crossing my legs, I sat on the grass to listen as the Teacher spoke from His seat.

"Many hear, but few truly listen," He was explaining.

"Everyone has veils between their ears and My Message. Veils of experience or opinion, tradition or belief. They cannot listen to what I say; they can only hear My words through those veils and interpret them.

"These interpretations, My friends, are the source of all arrogance, pride, and war.

"Cast aside the veils and your illusions of self; join Me here and know Peace.

"Look around yourselves and know this secret: there is nothing wicked in this world but your perception of it."

Hmm.

Sitting on an old tree stump, Jesus sounds like Buddha.

Mary of Magdala

On a walk through town, God pointed to a whore and said He wanted to be her Lover.

"Do You know what she does for a living?" I asked.

"Of course," He replied, "why else would I choose her?"

God's Secret

When God told me His secret, I just stared at Him incredulously.

"That's it?!" I cried.

"Yep," He smiled, "but you'd be amazed how many people never figure that out."

Remember.

Never believe in anything you cannot see.

Always believe in God.

Spiritual maturity is knowing that these two statements do not contradict.

He is in everything.

Remember.

Look.

I heard God laugh when you said you knew Him.

And not a polite little laugh, either.

One of the big ones.

"I've walked past her a thousand times," He said, "and she's never even looked twice!"

He just wants you to notice Him.

Look.

Writer's Block

You've seen Mean Girls, right?

Remember "word vomit" where the words just come and come and you can't stop them?

Well, after something like two years of not blogging at all--in between PhuseBox and starting this--that's exactly what I feel is happening to me now. I'd post eight times a day if I had time . . . I just can't stop finding things I want to write about.

"Then why is the title of this post Writer's Block, Brian?"

Because I have so many ideas I just don't know where to start.

No joke, I have about 5 drafts that I just can't get finished because I start them and before they're done I'm thinking about something else.

What do I do?

What's wrong with me?

I'd feel like I was a pathetic human being if I did much more than one post a day.

. . . Am I a pathetic human being?

Maybe I should just try to get a couple of those drafts finished and try not to worry about it.

*Types away furiously*

True Love

One night I was bored

so I poked God in the ribs.

He giggled and your eyes fell out,

twinkling in the moonlight.


Amused, I tickled Him

and the notes of His laughter

melted into your voice.


Now, when I tickle you

I see His eyes and

hear His voice.


Thank you.

Why is Healthcare so Expensive?

I found this on YouTube last night.

It's a video breaking down what each dollar spent on healthcare in the United States goes towards.

Whatever your opinions on the current healthcare issue, I think you'll find it pretty informative. The clip explains what some of the problems are now so that it's easier to make an informed decision about what to do.

Enjoy.

Ciao, Roma

. . . it looks like I won't be seeing you after all.

Well, at least not as soon or for as long as I'd hoped.

"Why?" you might ask. "What happened?"

Well, friends, despite being accepted into the program even with my late application, money still proved to be a problem.

Memphis offered to cover my tuition and program fees to go to Rome ($8,695).

But they wouldn't cover . . . *

Airfare ($1300)

Books ($360)

Room ($5,580 - $6,780)

Meals ($1700)

Course-related Fees ($75)

Optional Field Trips ($50-$900)

Personal Costs ($1700)

And, well, I just don't have $13,000 of my own money floating around. Besides, even if I did, I wouldn't waste it away on 3 months of my life.

Not even for you, Rome.

"We can't give you any more money," the woman at the Financial Aid Office said, "but you could take out a loan."

Ha.

Like I want to be paying that off until I die.

I came to this school because they went on and on about how affordable they would make study abroad.

Ha.

Thanks, U of M. I appreciate all you've done.

From your "advisors**" who failed to tell me the correct application date to your plentiful financial aid that has failed to materialize, it has been a pleasure working with you. Really, a ball.

And so . . .

I, Brian Alan King, hereby resolve that I will become as rich, famous, and influential as humanly possible and then devote my life to bringing about your ruin.

No sir, do not expect me to join your alumni association. I will not!

Donations? Bah!

And if someday you use my face in your little slideshow of famous Memphis graduates, I'll sue you silly.

We'll see who gets the last laugh!

I will be avenged!

MWAHAHAHAHA!!!

(Okay, no . . . I was pretty upset initially, even angry, but I've calmed down. If it didn't work out, I wasn't meant to go. Of course, I really would have appreciated a little more help along the way--and would love my $350 application fee back--but . . . you win some, you lose some. And I've learned a lesson. I guess. That's what mom said, anyway. ;) )

C'est la vie.

. . . or Ch'e la vita?

*Shrug*

I guess I'll never know . . .



*Prices taken from program website.

**Every time I write "advisor" in here it tries to correct it to "adviser." Am I wrong? Am I spelling it the British way? Because I could have sworn that's how I was taught to spell it.

Positive Procrastination

Right now, I should be working on the 10-page draft of my final paper due Thursday for my Italian Cinema class.

What am I doing instead?

Reading old Xanga entries that a much younger Brian made in high school.

Biggest frustrations?

Quotes that have no context to help me remember what they mean and cryptic four-word entries that I can't figure out, either.

Even still, though, I can't help but be a little amazed reading some of the thoughts that 16- or 17-year-old Brian put together.

I almost feel as if I may have known more then than I do now.

Or maybe it's just the opposite--I didn't know as much and so the world seemed a much simpler place.

With some of the entries, though, it seems as if they were written for me to read now. I don't know exactly what I was talking about at the time, or the context of my thoughts, but they somehow reach across the years and . . . remind? . . . me of truths I've overlooked as I've "grown up."

Have you ever read something you wrote years before that still spoke to you now?

I'm in a thoughtful mood . . .

Big Three Bailout

CNN was on in the library this morning as I walked in.

The story?

Apparently the "Big Three" of the auto industry--GM, Ford, and Chrysler--are reporting third-quarter earnings in the negative billions and want a share of that federal bailout plan.

Now I don't profess to be an economic genius, and never will, but if you can get yourself that far into debt, don't you kinda deserve to go out of business? To have your assets auctioned off to someone with a brain?

I mean, isn't that the point of capitalism and economic Darwinism? When you get fat, lazy, and irresponsible the market pushes you out?

I thought so.

And I realize that I'm beginning to sound like one of the heartless capitalist dogs I typically despise, but really.

I was raised to know valuable economic principles like, you know, "don't spend more than you earn," "live on a budget," and "don't get greedy."

Why is it these values are so important on a personal level but not on a larger, corporate scale?

I realize these companies are the center of an industry with more than 2 million workers.

I realize they are one of the cornerstones of our economy.

But in a world of higher quality, more affordable foreign imports, does it really matter?

Maybe they should have been more competitive in the market before now instead of relying on that sizable tariff and their lobbyists to save their behinds.

I also find it amusing that we are so concerned with protecting our own national industries while we are busy destroying those of other nations.

A taste of our own medicine?

Maybe that's in order.

I have had the incredible providence to live in a world where America has been on top for my entire life.

But that can't last forever.

And, while letting companies pay for their mistakes--and, you know, greed--might hurt us now, I'm sure it will help in the long run.

We need a reminder that we aren't invincible.

This--the most obese nation in the world--needs to learn the difference between want and need.

Sorry, Detroit, you got too fat.

Time to hit the treadmill.

Mumbling to Myself

"Do not cast pearls before swine"

--Oops, I already let slip

that I sneak out at night to

kiss God's cheek and play

all sorts of silly games.


Shh, don't tell.


And I'll just hope you haven't understood

or think I'm insane for

mumbling to myself like this.

Vegetarian Three Bean Chili

So I'm putting this on here mostly so I won't forget how to make it as much as for anyone else, but just in case you're interested . . .

Ingredients:

15 oz can of Organic Tri-Bean Blend

8 oz can of Tomato Sauce

1 tbsp Hot Sauce

1 tbsp Chili Powder

1 tsp Black Pepper

1 tsp Garam Masala

1 tsp Minced Garlic

1 tsp Paprika

1/2 tsp Cilantro

1/2 tsp Oregano

1/2 tsp Parsley

1/2 tsp Salt


Instructions:

1. Mix the cans of beans and tomato sauce. I don't generally drain the beans, but if you want a thicker chili that's something you might consider.

2. Mix in the spices. I like my chili spicy, so take that into account if you want to lessen the amounts.

3. Microwave.

4. Enjoy. (Some Pepper Jack cheese sprinkled on top is always an added bonus.)

This is ridiculously easy to make if you live in a dormroom without a lot of space to store food or any way to cook it beyond the microwave. Makes a couple servings, so share with a friend or put some in the refrigerator for later.

Also, considering the absence of red meat, this is actually quite healthy! You still get your protein from the beans without any of the nasty other things red meat typically ensures.

Plus, you aren't killing animals! Yay!

And it cleans out your sinuses like a champ.

Eat your heart out, Martha Stewart.

French 101: Lesson 2

Making Words Ending in -EAU Plural

Inspired by a t-shirt I recently saw, I've decided to take a break from politically-driven posts to correct your French, oh ye masses.

That said, I will get right down to it.

Adding an "s" to the end of a French word is not always the correct way to make it plural.

Sometimes, you use an "x."

For example, take the word beau. In French, this means "handsome" when used as an adjective.

Raoul est beau.

Raoul is handsome.

Tu n'es pas beau.

You are not handsome.

Now let's use an "-x" to make it plural:

Les chevaux sont beaux.

The horses are handsome/beautiful.

The "x"--though important--is not audibly pronounced. In speech, you have to use context clues to figure out if someone is speaking about more than one thing.

Another common word borrowed from French with this ending is nouveau(x), meaning "new."

Now--in English--the word "beau" is often used to describe an attractive, well-mannered young man, the complement to a belle (French for "beautiful").

So, mes amis, if you were having an Old South theme for your prom, you would want the back of your shirt to read,

"Belles and Beaux"

NOT

"Belles and Beaus"

. . . and you would definitely not want to sit in front of me wearing a shirt that said the latter unless you wanted to be added on to my list of people to skewer with a baguette.

Fin.

The End.

So you're the Antichrist?

. . . Please step to the end of the line.

This is part two of what will probably be a three part series to dispel some of the craziness circulating the internet. Yesterday, I discussed Poverty and Laziness.

Today?

The Antichrist.

It was not long after Barack Obama won the election that doom-sayers began mouthing their wild predictions that he is the Antichrist and this is the End of Days.

You are more than welcome to believe that if you want to; that is your right as an American.

But before you take to the streets and subways with your "The End is Nigh" signs, I ask you for the second day in a row to step back and think.

For thousands of years, people have been screaming "Antichrist!" at anyone they felt was too powerful or opposed their views. While some of these claims are reasonable--maybe even appropriate--others are downright ludicrous.

And, I would like to point out, the End of Days has still yet to come.

So maybe--just maybe--do you think you could be over-reacting?

The following list of "Antichrists" has been borrowed from the one here, with a few omissions and adaptations.

Now, without further ado, I present you with the Who's-Who of Satan's minions:

Roman Emperor Nero

This guy was a real jerk . . . he burned Rome to the ground and blamed the Christians in order to turn the public against them. In some interpretations of Revelation--where the book is taken to address the fall of the Roman Empire--he is actually perceived to be the Antichrist. I think those views make sense.

Any and Every Pope

Oh, Protestants. Bitter are we? But really, some of the arguments here make sense, I'll give them that. Worth a "heh" while reading.

Charlemagne

Yeah, you know that guy who Christianized the Franks and a good-sized chunk of Northern Europe? Totally had it in for JC.

Napoleon

So he was a short, war-mongering Corsican. That doesn't make him evil. He probably just had a complex or something. ;)

Abraham Lincoln

A Southern preacher during the war? I'm sure you thought so.

Franklin D. Roosevelt

Say whaaat? "Bad! Bad, FDR! No, stop it! Don't pass social reforms and pull us out of the Depression! It's God's will!"

Benito Mussolini

Honestly, he didn't have the brains or resources to be an effective Antichrist. Sorry to disappoint.

Adolf Hitler

6 million dead? I understand this one.

Josef Stalin

30 million? This one, too.

(Are you beginning to notice a trend? Aparently every world leader during World War II was the Antichrist except Winston Churchill. Oh, and Tojo. Interesting.)

John F. Kennedy

Because he was Catholic. A tolerant people, humanity, aren't we? Apparently, many people were expecting him to "miraculously" return to life after he was shot in Dallas.

King Juan Carlos of Spain

Simply because Spain was the tenth nation to join the European Union.

Ronald Wilson Reagan

He has 6 letters in each of his names. Le gasp!

Mikhail Gorbachev

A Russian premier who supported the people's rights? Has to be evil.

Yassir Arafat

Hahaha. This accusation is probably just justification for being mean to the Palestinians.

Bill Clinton

I could believe the Antichrist will be from Arkansas.

Barney the Dinosaur

. . . I had heard this before, but never had any idea that some people are serious about it. Yikes.

Bill Gates

Capitalist scumbag. What's 666 in binary?

Jacques Chirac

Arrogant? Maybe. I think you just hate France.

George Bush

Ask anyone who lives outside the South. Especially foreigners. Particularly, you know, Baghdadis.

And now, to the end of that list we add . . .

Barack Obama

For such heinous crimes as having the middle name "Hussein" and wanting to use something besides guns in his foreign policy.

What a terrible guy.

The Difference between Poverty and Laziness

So in looking at statuses and notes written on Facebook, as well as several blogs here, I have come across an interesting sentiment.

Many people seem to think that rich people work hard and poor people don't.

Many people think that Obama will take away their hard-earned money and give it to "lazy poor people."

In my experience, I have seen a remarkable difference in being "poor" and being "lazy."

I offer you my perspective.

As most of you know, I spent three months in the summer of 2007 working in the Mott Haven neighborhood of the Bronx. This area flip-flops back and forth with another (in LA, I believe) over which is the poorest district in America.

A few stops down the green line, around 59th street, is the 7th richest district in America.

I am familiar with both.

In Mott Haven, I met the nicest most earnest people I have ever encountered in my life. People working hard to make ends meet and provide for their children despite the violence and poor health conditions.

(I myself witnessed a shooting and a police raid in just my few short months there.)

They are not lazy.

They are held down by a system that does them no favors.

A lack of proper education funding keeps their children--my children--from receiving adequate attention in school, which in turn keeps them from being able to get into the best high schools. A lack of after-school programs keeps them from having a safe environment to complete their homework and leaves them with nowhere else to go but the streets where they have nothing to do but get in trouble.

College is out of the question, as many of them never have the chance to finish high school.

Imagine a world where your middle school graduation is the one where you have a party thrown in your honor and you are given gifts. Imagine a world with an 8th grade trip instead of a senior trip.

That world is the South Bronx.

I have seen the most brilliant children just give up because they lose hope.

I have seen families on welfare because they have no other choice if they want to live.

I love those people . . . and I'm crying as I type this.

This is poverty.

Now let me paint you a different picture.

Imagine a world all about Number One. A world of rich, selfish individuals who do nothing but buy, buy, buy without so much as a second thought about the word "give."

A world of people who refuse to give "my money" to help someone who needs it. Who see the problem, but refuse to acknowledge that maybe--just maybe--it affects them, too, and they have a responsibility to help their fellow man.

A world of people who use the word "lazy" because it is easier--and more comfortable--to say than "underprivileged" or "held down."

Imagine people who come home from their stable jobs to sit in their tidy suburban homes with three cars, 2.5 children, and a dog. People who grew up in a safe neighborhood with a good school district. People who are given money to go to college.

Imagine people who get all those breaks in life only to go to college and waste themselves away on drugs or alcohol.

Or people who inherit millions of dollars only to embarrass themselves in front of millions of people.

Those people are lazy.

Your comfortable, clean, black-and-white world exists.

But so does the Bronx.

And I have seen both.

So please, step back and think before you start whining and throwing around the word "lazy."

Allow yourself to think that maybe--just maybe--there are people in America who don't have it as well as you through no fault of their own.

I believe the way I do because, to me, poverty has a face and a name.

I pray that someday you will be able to see the world through my eyes.

Maybe then you will be able to recognize laziness.

A Chance Meeting

Walking down the street, I noticed a man spinning in circles on the sidewalk.

Curious, I stopped to ask his name.

"Jesus of Nazareth," he replied, "the son of Mary."

We made small talk for a while, then he asked me:

"Have they noticed me, yet?"

I looked around at all the other people out that day. A mother scolded a toddler. A girl walked past on her cellphone, oblivious to the two of us standing there. Some protesters screamed about taxes on the corner waving signs and crosses.

"No," I replied, "I don't think so."

"Pity," he said, furrowing his brow. "I've been standing out here for quite some time now."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he reassured me as a lopsided grin crossed his face, "but a guy gets lonely, you know?"

Sympathetic, I stayed with him.

Now we both spin in circles waiting on someone to notice.

Masquerade

Life is a masquerade with only you and God in attendance.

The trick?

Learn to ignore the masks--people, places, things--until you live just the way you pray.

Scare Tactics

As the days before the upcoming election dwindle away, it would appear many are getting more and more desperate to garner votes away from Barack Obama.

Even the organization Focus on the Family has gotten involved, posting a sixteen-page "letter" written from the perspective of an American Christian in 2012 looking back on four years of an Obama presidency.

When did Focus on the Family go political? And a fear campaign?

Really?

Is James Dobson turning into Emperor Palpatine?

I really doubt Focus on the Family has the political analysts on-staff to make effective predictions. However, that apparently didn't stop them:

Letter from 2012 in Obama's America

I read this and wanted to shoot myself for how ridiculous the claims were.

The author starts by saying that he no longer feels America can be called the land of the free because "[m]any of our freedoms have been taken away by a liberal Supreme Court and a Democratic majority in both the House and the Senate, and hardly any brave citizen dares to resist the new government policies any more." He continues with a chastisement of "young evangelicals" who provided the narrow lead that allowed Obama to pull a win.

The letter addresses at least 34 different issues, from the Pledge of Allegiance to Russia rebuilding the Soviet Bloc (which could NEVER happen to the extent the letter suggests . . . most of those countries are now part of NATO or the EU).

I have neither time, patience, nor energy to address the issues raised--most of which (at least the domestic ones) hinge on three of the nine Supreme Court justices leaving the court and being replaced by Obama appointees. However, if you have time I think you should read it.

It's just sad.

And a lot scarier than an Obama victory, in my opinion.

Jesus and Christianity: Mutually Exclusive?

* * *

DISCLAIMER

This post was written in response to something I read while blog-hopping that kinda got to me. I apologize for any strong wording or seeming disorganization, I promise it makes more sense in context.

Also, I reworded that sentence down there to be a little more PC for you, Anna. Happy? ;)

* * *

In my opinion, more often than not.

(You may not want to let the kids read this one.)

The biggest fault with Christianity today (as well as most other religions) is that it has evolved to a point at which it ceases to be applicable to the day-to-day lives of people. Instead of humble people committed to the ideas of Christ, all that most people outside the faith are able to see is a seemingly hypocritical group who keep rigid adherence to some rules while blatantly disregarding others without any substantial reason why.

I really don't care to get into the whole homosexuality debate, but it makes a great example. The Bible says this is wrong in the Old Testament. However, the Old Testament also says not to touch the skin of a dead pig (anyone ever played football?) or eat shrimp (cocktail shrimp, shrimp gumbo, shrimp sandwich, shrimp scampi, shrimp . . .), while it condones slavery (as long as the person is of a different people group) and stoning adulteresses to death.

(For more examples, see this site.)

The New Testament even suggests women should put off wearing make-up and fancy clothes.

So why is it okay for a woman to show up to a church picnic in lipstick, play football, and eat gumbo when it isn't okay to be gay? I--like many--would really like to know the justification here.

Besides, I am pretty sure it is easier to choose not to wear makeup or play football than it is to choose not to be gay (as partially evidenced by the fact that gay is an adjective and "wear" and "play" are verbs).

It doesn't help the case of most "Christians" that Jesus Himself didn't mention any of these offenses, preferring to tell people that the important thing was to love each other like they love themselves. I would also like to point out the fact that He didn't generally attend the synagogue picnics, instead hanging out with tax collectors and hookers.

But this discrepancy--between what Jesus said and the ideals that "Christians" espouse today--is the second point I would like to address.

Please tell me how it is possible to draw a connection between a Man who encouraged people to feed children and take care of widows and a militant political party whose chief tenet is to look after yourself?

If you try to make the argument that people don't want the government helping people, they would rather donate their own money to a charity of their choice, I would like to know the last time you made a donation to any charity (your own church doesn't count).

If that is your argument, I would also like to know what you think a government is for, if it is not there to take care of its people. Providing broader healthcare coverage isn't socialist--it's smart. And right now the US has one of the worst healthcare systems of any developed nation.

We're even ranked after Cuba.

Ouch.

Anyway, I've drifted considerably from my original purpose and if I don't stop now, I'll keep talking about healthcare until I'm blue in the face.

To close, I would just like to say that, in my opinion, Christianity needs a major facelift--maybe even another Reformation--if it wants to look anything like Jesus. There's a verse in one of the gospels where Jesus asks if the Son of Man will find faith when He returns to the earth.

As it looks right now, He may find a faith . . . but He may not be able to recognize it much as His own.

So I'm a Little Frustrated.

I was looking back over the website for the study abroad program in Rome yesterday to see if I could find out when I would find out whether I was accepted or not and I noticed a very interesting date.

October 1st.

This is the date their website said applications to the program were due.

I was told October 15th by the study abroad advisor at Memphis. And that's when I turned in my application.

Now maybe Memphis is special as a member institution of the group supporting the program.

But I don't know how much hope I hold out for that.

So I'm frustrated.

I mean, I understand that maybe it was my responsibility to make sure I knew all the dates.

But if I go to the office at my university and they tell me the 15th, I'm not really going to question them.

What's the point in a due date, anyway, if it takes place after the date of the programs?

And, if you are a study abroad advisor, aren't you at least partially responsible for advising me correctly?

Shouldn't she have known or said something?

I think so.

If no one is going to help me, why am I paying ridiculous tuition to pay these people?

To complicate matters further, my passport has disappeared into thin air. I've torn my dorm room at Memphis apart. Eight or nine times.

And the same goes for my room at home which has been scoured by me, Mom, Dad, and any of my friends that happened to come close enough to my house to get dragged inside.

Problems that could cause:

I have to fill out two forms. The first one says I lost it, and as soon as I put that one in the mail, my old passport is no longer valid (which, knowing my luck, means I would find it 3-4 minutes after they pick up the mail). The second form(s) involves almost the exact same process as getting a regular passport would. Including, the best I can tell, the roughly $100 in fees and the 6 to 8 weeks for it to be processed.

I don't really have that long, especially since I need a visa.

In addition to all of this, I'm also having one of the busiest weeks academically I've had in a very long time. Papers. Tests. Torment. Anguish. Gnashing of teeth.

That is my life.

I know everything will work out the way it is supposed to, and I have faith enough in God to know that He has a plan.

But that doesn't make all of this any less frustrating.

So, if you were brave (or bored) enough to read all of this, please pray for the whole situation.

Thanks.

Love you.

Swimming

If a mother has a son and wants to teach him to swim, does she throw him into the deep end alone? No! She starts him out in the shallows and works with him until he has learned to swim on his own.

And, once he has learned, can he not swim anywhere? Pools, rivers, lakes, and oceans are his for the exploring.

It is the same way with your Father.

If there is a man who knows all about swimming--the name of every stroke, the physics behind every motion--yet he has never been in the water himself, what good is his knowledge?

Is it not worthless if he never dives in to experience the changing ebb and flow himself?

Think on that.

Then jump in.

French 101: Words Ending in É

As someone who knows French--and is obsessed with grammar--I find it particularly disturbing when I see words borrowed from French that are spelled incorrectly. In order to remedy the situation, I shall offer a series of corrective lessons as a sort of public service announcement.

Our first topic?

Disparities between the masculine and feminine forms of words ending in é, most notably the word fiancé and the name Renée.

The rule is quite simple:

In order to make a word ending in é feminine, add an extra e to the end.

Therefore, fiancé (masculine) becomes fiancée (feminine).

The same rule applies, consequently, to the name René; French for "reborn." René (masculine) becomes Renée (feminine).

Please note that the accent remains over the first e in all cases.

Naming your daughter Reneé, Réneé, Rénéé, or any other variant besides Renée makes France cry.

No, I lied. Crying isn't a very French thing to do. Misspelling Renée makes France stick up her nose and scoff at your ignorance.

You don't want to be scoffed at, do you?

You have now been educated. Spread your knowledge.

Four Topics, None Related

I just completed my study abroad application for the spring semester and turned it in with a sizable $350 deposit (refundable if I am not accepted into a program). I'm excited and nervous about the whole thing, so if you wouldn't mind throwing a word or two in my favor up to the Big Guy, I would appreciate it.

I applied to the American University of Rome, a school I got accepted into after high school but couldn't attend because they wouldn't give me money. Stingy Europeans. They have a strong International Relations program, so I was able to find lots of useful courses to take.

Not to mention, it's Rome.

Think of the art. And the history. And the Pope.

. . . Okay, so maybe that last one isn't a big selling point. But still.

*starry eyed*

Pray for me to get in . . . it could mean shiny souvenirs and postcards for you. :D

. . .

On an altogether unrelated note, I was walking across campus earlier today and overheard a girl telling her friend about a conversation that had apparently taken place the night before. And I quote,

". . . and then she was all like, 'Don't make me confiscate your Streisand collection!' So I had to be all like, 'Mom! Leave Barbra out of this!' . . . "

. . . Really? Are you serious?

I just had to shake my head at that one.

. . .

Fall break was good, but not nearly long enough. Spent the first part of the weekend with the family at Standing Stone State Park, somewhere we hadn't been in ages . . . the last time we went as a family was probably when I was in the 4th or 5th grade.

Needless to say, everything looked a lot smaller than I remembered.

When we got back I managed to get a little reading done and tried to keep from overcrowding the social calendar.

And, of course, I avoided getting any serious work done like the plague.

. . .

If I can get all my homework done, I intend to watch the debate tonight. Not because I don't know who I'm voting for, but because--like many Americans--I've developed a sick fascination with this election.

If this isn't the most important election of my life, it will at least be the most groundbreaking (whichever side wins).

As a nation, we are currently balanced on the blade of a very precarious knife (to borrow an analogy from The Lord of the Rings). The decision we make regarding our next president will either set us down the path of reconciliation with the international community and lead to a peaceful, respected withdraw from the position of hegemon, or erode what little remains of our image abroad into nothingness thereby destroying our ability to get anything done in the world . . . without guns.

And guns, my friends, are a very poor international bargaining chip.

Especially in the long run.

Always from the child's hand the sword
should be removed.

I think every nation
is an infant.

-Saint Francis of Assisi

Epiphany

An ant, lifted from his home beneath the grass to see the wonders of the wider world, must know the same awe and confusion encountered by man when his soul is lifted by God to ponder the vast, beautiful expanse of His countenance.

Thoughts on the Feast of St. Francis

Too often people view nature as something separate instead of something of which they are a part. Nature--mountains, trees, squirrels, frogs--is not something beneath you for you to control or bend to suit your needs. It is something around you in which you are meant to participate.

How many people, looking at a tree, see something more than part of the backdrop? Something more than an object that needs trimmed, maintained, or put to "better" use?

How many people hear the laughter of their leaves when God tickles them with the breeze?

Too few.

I wonder how long and how much it will take for humanity to realize their interconnectedness with the rest of Creation.

I wonder if, by then, it will be too late.

I once spoke to my friend, an old squirrel, about the Sacraments--
he got so excited

and ran into a hollow in his tree and came
back holding some acorns, an owl feather,
and a ribbon he had found.

And I just smiled and said, "Yes, dear,
you understand:

everything imparts
His grace.

--The Sacraments, St. Francis of Assisi
(translated by Daniel Ladinsky)

Talking to other people,

I often pause and wait

for the "Ooh, I get it!"

but it never comes,

leaving me no course of action

but to write a silly poem

to ask You

"Why?"

So which is it?

Sometimes I feel You

right next to me

laughing


And at other times

it seems like You are

a million miles away

and crying.


So which is it?


Both?


I know You never leave,

but I'd appreciate it if

--right now--


You'd give me a hug.

Any smiling face

is God

trying to improve your mood.

Sometimes

fevers come

from God


and


Sometimes

God comes

from fevers.


It is a strange,

strange world

in which we live.

Every step taken

is one towards God.


It is only when we stop moving

that we cannot feel Him.

Devotion

is a thing complicated;

How do I know where You are

if You won't tell me?

Command me and I will go,

but don't leave me here

guessing--I'll flounder every time.

The Fall of Man

On His slow walk home,

God put you in His shirt pocket

to keep you close by His heart.

He, regrettably, didn't notice the hole;

though He did let out a little gasp of surprise

when He felt you slip out.


Now, years later,

if you stand outside

looking up at the night sky,

you can see the concern in His eyes

and feel the warmth of His grasping hand

as he reaches out to catch you

before you hit the ground.

No One Said Anything Back

I closed my eyes last night and the world exploded,

expanding beyond everything I knew

until I couldn't recognize it anymore.


"Hello?" I ventured tentatively,


but no one said anything back.

A Challenge

I want to see

how you would do

spending just an hour

stuck in this

infinite heart of Mine.

RACE and ETHNICITY

. . . are not the same thing.

Pardon me while I stand on my soapbox for a moment.

Over the past few days, I've been trying to fill out all the paper work so that I can study abroad in the spring semester. In the process I have had to check the appropriate box for my "ethnicity" several times.

You are probably familiar with the choices listed under the "ethnic" question:

-White, non-Hispanic

-African American, non-Hispanic

-Hispanic

-Asian American/Pacific Islander

-Multiracial

-Other, Please Specify _________________

. . . So many things wrong here.

Let's go through them one by one, shall we?

First off, can you tell me the only ETHNICITY listed here?

Yes, that's right, HISPANIC.

Because Hispanic is the only option--with the possible exception of "Pacific Islander"--that deals with CULTURE instead of RACE. White people can be Hispanic. Black people can be Hispanic. People of Chinese descent, raised in a Spanish-speaking country, area, or home, can be Hispanic.

Second, "white" is not an ethnicity. Not all white people are the same, not even in the US. If you want to ask me about my race, fine; I have no issue filling the bubble by white . . . but that is NOT my ethnicity. My ETHNICITY would be Southern American (notably different from South American) or Anglo-Irish-Scottish-Dutch-Franco-German-Danish-Norwegian-Polish-Russo-Brazilian American. Make me a bubble that says that.

Moving right along . . .

Next up on the chopping block? The term African American.

What SHOULD this term mean? A naturalized individual who was born in a country IN AFRICA and then applied for American citizenship at some later time in life.

What DOES this term mean? Anyone in America who is black.

So what about a white woman born in South Africa who moves to the US? Or an Arab man from Egypt?

Not black, no, but they have a more substantial claim to the term "African American" than most people who use it.

. . . Just saying.

The term Asian American is perhaps the most ridiculous as an "ethnicity" when you consider how BROAD the word "Asian" really is.

"Asian" includes Arabs, Persians, Indians, Mongols, Orientals (which itself is FAR too broad a term to accurately encompass the Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, Vietnamese, etc.), and--of course--the millions of white people in Russia. Just to name a few.

See how ridiculous that is?

So, in conclusion:

If you want to ask about race, fine. But ask about RACE (white, black, etc.).

If you want to ask about ethnicity, ask about ETHNICITY.

Or, if you want to move forward into the twenty-first century, stop asking about it all together.

Which, really, is the way I feel we should all go.

If I could,

I would open your eyes

to see the brilliant colors

of His paintings in the sky.


If I could,

I would open your heart

to feel the perfect warmth

of His tender embrace.


But I can't;


I can only tell you

what I've seen

and what I've felt,


and hope against hope

that you will listen and

find Him, too.

Dancing as He does,

God once bumped into me.


"Ouch," I said.


"Oh, quit your whining,"

He replied, "I wouldn't

have hit you


if you had been dancing, too."

A Comment on Humanity

I sneezed in the library

and no one even looked up.

Ivan Ilyich

"Il faut que jeunesse se passe."

--Says who?!

I certainly don't intend to grow up,

and have you met God?

Silly Tolstoy.

Dear God,

I spent over a year

trying to be someone I'm not,

thinking that's who I was

supposed to be . . .


can I get that time back?


What?!


Why are you laughing?


I'm serious.

Elijah

there is an immense pressure in my soul

to write, write, write

and i wonder--yes, i wonder

if it means i won't have too much longer

to share the experience of this soul

before the rapture seizes me

and i make off like elijah,

leaving all you suckers to stare

confused at the sky.

To a best friend--

How I wish I could show you everything I've learned,

sit you down and impart this knowledge that drives me to Madness,

remind you of everything that will return the Sparkle to your eyes.


My heart breaks for you, friend,

recalling our valiant maneuvers in the battle

before we were wounded.


I stand here, waiting on you to look up

and see me with your sword in my

hand--I (we) all need you to get up and fight.


I spoke to God this morning,

He said He'd love to hear from you.


I would break my back and hang bleeding for you,

if that's what it would take--can you see the Christ in me?


I'm just a drop in the sea of His love for you.


Can't you remember?

Ecstasy

This is too funny--Your Soul is

everywhere.


Open Your Mouth and laugh with me;


Ha, now You have me giggling like a

little girl.


Will they talk to me or not? Have I yet

gleaned all of You from this

moment?


Your playfulness astounds me--


my shining soul spills out.


Do I see what I see, or what I

imagine I see?


Either way, I see You.

An Earnest Prayer

Make me the head and heart of Your Body--

the branch from Your Vine upon which more

sacred fruit may grow.

Bell Towers

Men are not divine,

simply vessels for Him:

each a tower whose

soul-bell cannot help

but to reverberate

the sacred Song

first played in His Soul.

Prayer for a crying girl

Kiss her soul.


Touch her heart with Your lips.


Open her eyes to Love.

The Divine Secret

God may get mad at me

for sharing this information

so freely,

but I thought you should know.


Every person is Christ saying,

"Love Me! Love Me!"

and when you realize that,

it all becomes so simple.

How do you think I feel?

"How do You expect me to

keep loving, keep loving

when it feels like the

whole world conspires

against me?


"How do You expect me to

keep giving, keep giving

when no one seems to

notice and pour back

into me?"


"How do you think I

feel?" He replied, " I gave

all of Myself, and what

did they do?

Kill Me."

God looked at me and smiled,

His eyes tinged a bit by

sadness.


"You may understand Me better than

most--I would even call Us

Friends--but that doesn't make

you any better than anyone else.


"Instead of looking at others as

inferior, look at them with

love, and We will have another

thing to talk about during Our

little chats:


"How lonely they can make Us feel."

Damn Dogmatists

Whose idea was it

to compile a book

and say, "This is all

God said; no more,

no less"?


Just because He

doesn't talk to you,

doesn't mean the

rest of us can't

hear Him.


and don't you know

how many wars you've

caused?


Damn dogmatists.

Somewhere

Somewhere between tomorrow

and yesterday,


you and me,


smiles and laughter,


God sits waiting for you to

remember Him.

Listen to that.

Imagine you are sitting in a forest

by a campfire with God.


As you look over the flames

into His eyes,


What does He say to you?


Listen to that.

the nature of faith

faith is trust and submission:

trust that God will act

and submission when He does.

Eloi! Eloi!

I sit and wait for You,

my mind and soul burn

with a nervous energy:


desire to feel Your presence,

to touch Your warmth.

my heart beats with a lust

for Your form,

Your smell in my nostrils


great Peace to my imagination.

Eden

in my mind there is a place

hidden--with Wisdom--

in the mountains;

tucked away in the valley of Solitude.


in the center there is a Well:

let us call it Peace

and all around that place

is a garden, immaculately groomed.


beds of flowers, herbs, vegetables,

trees laden with fruits,

bounties of nuts,

all watered from the Well by the Gardener.


there are animals, too, of course:

birds chirp elegantly,

and fish swim

in a pond lined with turtles.


there is a wall around this Garden,

and on the south side

a House

with a row of guest rooms in the east.


there is no electricity here,

only candles and oil lamps

and a grand fireplace

with more purpose than warmth in winter.


raised here as children, eventually

we can see nothing but

that Wall around

and assume its goal is to trap us.


consumed with curiosity, we peek

then climb to the top

and jump over,

while the Gardener cries in the window.


close your eyes, children,

and let us return

to Laughter:

it is not just a place in my mind.

The Truth of Immaturity

I was chastised last night, called immature for flicking bits of paper at a friend using a hairtie.

"Just because you aren't the center of attention--" the lecture began.

I wasn't trying to be the center of attention. I was trying to have fun, goof around, and--most importantly--laugh.

This was at a party, after all.

At first, the person's comments bothered me a great deal. Later, walking, I was able to overcome my offense and realize the truth of the matter.

I will pose you the same question I asked myself on the way home last night.


Which is really more immature:

playfully flicking bits of paper to amuse yourself,

or

sitting stiff-necked and pompous to impress others?


Hopefully you'll arrive at the same conclusion I did.

So I dare you to flick paper.

Tie shoelaces together.

Dust off the whoopee cushion.

And--most importantly--laugh.

Because (while there is a time to be serious) it is much more frequently important to enjoy yourself.


"Never take life too seriously," I once read somewhere, "no one gets out alive anyway."

A very valid point.

scripture

flying through the air,

i hit you with a book.


ha!


did it hurt?

revelation

show me the white stone

--with my name inscribed--

i want to know.

my soul's Lover

my soul's Lover takes many forms:

the stuff of dreams.

like the moon

the moon still shines,

even when covered with clouds.


God still loves,

even when hidden by doubt.

ravished soul

God seized me and made Love to me

in my heart--

there is safety in His arms;

He is a Lover Who satisfies.


hold me and give me the comfort my

soul seeks--love that won't fade.

questions for God

is this reality better than the dreams which

used to fill my heart?


will my desire ever be quenched?


there is a fire in my heart

and i spend days asking--wondering--if

i should put it out

or add kindling.


--You choose.

the Voice of God

the Voice of God is

the faintest of whispers

to a novice listener;


but, to a seasoned veteran,

It is a Scream that

cannot be ignored.

your road

what adventures does your heart

contain?



listen and know.



find your road:

it begins at your door.

écriture

i touch this paper

and a whole world opens

before my eyes;



but it is the Pen who

decides how much you

will see here.

One Night

One night,

God laughed so hard

that He dropped His purse

and all the stars fell out.


"Oh well," He said, "no use crying

over spilled love."

False Religion

People would rather lie than tell the truth

And admit they don't know.

Theology

How can a theologian know that God

is infinite and claim to know

all about Him?


How can he know that God is everywhere

and insist that his is the only way to

find Him?


Do you know?


It doesn't make much sense to me,

either.

Transfiguration

Crying last night,

I grabbed a friend

and--just for a moment--

his body became the Christ's.


It scared me a little,

and I've been smiling

ever since.

Leaves on a Branch

I must credit this thought to Saint

Catherine of Siena, who first

wrote it in a poem.


She insisted that death isn't real,

that we are each a leaf

on a branch.


We bud and grow,

changing, changing,

until we feel the Fall Wind and

let go of all we thought

we loved and hated,

embracing the Light.


Isn't that neat?


We don't die,

we just Blow Away.

Showers

I awoke to the piercing sound of my alarm clock, pressed the snooze button, and settled back into my sheets to enjoy nine more minutes of blissful sleep.

Behind my eyelids, an epic scene of anguish greeted me:


I stood on an ancient hill outside Jerusalem watching three men die.

The One in the center, drenched in blood, beckoned me closer with what little movement He could achieve in His fingers.

With each step I could see in more vivid detail the horrors afflicted upon His body--flesh hung in tatters and blood poured down the wood, staining it a sickening crimson.

And yet . . .

As I drew closer, I could see water flowing from His side. Clean, fresh water gushing forth almost like a fountain.

Standing below the sunken Form, I looked up.

"This is for you," He grated out through parched and cracked lips, casting his gaze towards the Spring in His side.

Taking a hint, I stepped into the stream of water.

It poured down, covering me, drenching me, soaking me to the bone. Cold and warm at the same time, I found myself shivering as my pores simultaneously gaped open from the heat. The water penetrated every inch of my body, enveloping me: a beautiful flowing hug.

After a few moments in the glistening light, I stepped back to look up at Him.

He looked down at me.

"I can't always be this obvious, you know," He reminded me.

The faintest of His infinite smiles lifted my soul to Union, and then


My alarm clock went off for the second time, pulling me back into the physical world. I knew I couldn't ignore it this time. Resigning myself to being awake, I got out of bed and grabbed my towel.

In the bathroom, I stepped into the shower and turned the knobs. Water. I waited until it had warmed to an acceptable temperature, then I stepped into the refreshing, gushing stream and began to lather my body. I allowed the water to clean me, awaken me.

It wasn't until I was out of the shower, much later, that I remembered this experience and His words. It was a little while longer before it clicked and I could understand the message hidden there.

Can you see it?

What if God was a verb?

What if God was a verb?

If I said I "Goded" someone, what would that mean?

Did I hug them? Kiss them?

Paint them a picture?

Sing them a song?

Or did I simply Love them?



Friends, God is a Verb,

And He's always in the present tense.

Everywhere

Stepping out of my dorm room on the way to class, I passed a janitor cleaning in the hall. He looked at me with sad, searching eyes so I smiled.

"Have you seen God?" he asked.

"Yes, I have," I replied. "In fact, I can see Him right now."

The man's eyes, still tinged with loneliness, spelled confusion.

I explained: "He's you."

Enigmatic twinkle in my eyes, I threw him another smile and continued on my way so that he could ponder over what I said.

Walking down the stairs, I felt God squeeze my shoulder approvingly.

"Now," He said, "you are finally beginning to understand: I am everywhere."

Week at a Glance

so i've been meaning to do a post on my classes this semester and what i think of them but just haven't gotten around to it . . . until now.

spanish 1010

so after five years of french and a brief, one-semester fling with arabic, i finally decided to give spanish a try. so far, i think i like it. my professor is young and seems to actually know what he is talking about, while also making it interesting. the downside? i'm afraid that my romance languages are going to blend into "frespañol."

europe in the age of the baroque

this course is every bit as presumptuous as it sounds . . . but i think i will really enjoy it. it's taught by an older, balding southern gentleman who says "ah" instead of "r." however, while the topic is interesting, he can be a bit boring and pronounces all the french words incorrectly. o_O

literary heritage

despite an inherent potential to be incredibly boring, the professor will--i think--actually make this course interesting enough to attend. i have to contract it for honors credit, though, which means an extra 10-15 page paper. we'll see how that goes.

theories of international relations

this class makes me question why i chose the major i did. the professor seems interesting, though, and i think i will actually learn a lot . . . but, for one of the first times in school thus far i will actually have to work at it. lots of papers. lots of notes. boo.

human rights and social movement

this is actually an anthropology course and i think it will be one of my two favorites (along with the below) this semester. it's basically a big discussion of human rights and how they can be determined and applied, especially in light of cultural relativism. i'm sure it sounds boring to you, but i'm psyched.

italian cinema since 1945

you only wish you could take this class (and have it count for your major). we meet for class once a week on thursdays to watch italian films and discuss them. oh. yes. i have to write several papers over the semester, but it will be well worth it. this class also rocks because it is taught by a sweet italian lady who is totally awesome.

anyway, that's just a little overview of the 18 hours i'll be taking over the next few months.

i'm pretty excited . . . just about the first time in my life i have been able to say that about school.

Love Songs

I look at God and He smiles,

I smile and He giggles,

I giggle and He laughs,

I laugh and He guffaws,

and We both wipe tears of joy from Our eyes

as We sing love songs to each other

deep into the night.

Dancing

On a walk across crowded campus, I paused to sit on a bench by the fountain.

To my right sat the Teacher, legs crossed, watching the thousands rush past on their errands.

I smiled and He returned the favor.

"Isn't it a shame," He said after a moment, "that everyone thinks they are in such a hurry? They have no time to dance!"

Seeing my confusion, He leaned in conspiratorially.

"If you let your heart dance through each moment," He whispered, "you will never know sadness or pain."

He looked into my eyes for a moment and then leaned back, lesson imparted.

My mouth laughed.

My soul flew.

We danced.

Icharus

Entranced,

insects fly

towards Light,

no matter the cost.


Why are men

not so bold?


At least

Icharus flew.

OCD to the EXTREME

so i read these things on anna and powers' sites a while back, but i'm only just now getting around to doing it myself.

now you will know how truly insane i really am.

*ahem*

the rules:

1. mention the person who tagged you.
2. list the rules on your blog.
3. tell about six unspectacular quirks of yours.

here goes . . .

1. when eating m&ms, i first divide them into piles based on color (reds together, yellows, etc.). then, systematically, i eat one of each color until there are an equal number of each. once there are equal numbers of each color of m&m, i collect one from each color pile and eat them all at the same time, until i am out of m&ms. ALWAYS.

2. some people may know this, but i am extremely ocd about making my bed. this probably stems from my mother's ocd bed-making which is a direct result of her father being in the army and being obsessed with a well-made bed himself. a three generation habit . . . beat that. a bed should be made, and it should always be made well. no exceptions.

3. when getting out of the shower, i count down from 10 to 1 before turning off the water. i only do this at "home" showers, however: in murfreesboro or at the dorm, for example. never if i'm over at someone else's place. when i do this without realizing it is when i know i'm at home someplace.

4. i despise odd numbers. whether selecting the volume on the tv or in the car, i will not stand for anything but even digits. i'll even wait around when setting a clock for the next even minute. the only exception is when setting the microwave, in which case i NEVER use an even number, or even a predictable odd number (2:25, 1:50, etc.). in this case, i only use the most random numbers i can come up with; 2:47 or 1:53, for example. don't ask me why . . . i don't know.

5. when going down stairs, i never step on the bottom step. i believe this originates with cameron and me in middle school or so. you never want to hit the bottom in life, do you? then don't step on the bottom step.

6. and, last but not least, i cannot STAND creases in paperback book bindings. i will read a book at the most awkward, almost closed, angle--barely able to read the words towards the inside of the page--rather than risk a crease. if i spend too long on a certain part of a book, i begin to panic, worrying that i'll make a crease and try to read faster. i just realized this fear may be part of the reason i don't like to read books more than once.

anyway, there you have it . . . a few of my (many) quirks laid out for you to see.

please don't judge.

if you happen to do any of the same things, let me know.

and if you are reading this and haven't already done it, consider yourself tagged.

Well?

God will often

stick His foot out

to trip you,


then bring a hand

to His mouth

to suppress a chuckle


while He watches you pout.



Eventually,

He grows tired of

His little game,


furrows His brow,

crosses His arms,

and just waits for you to


stop being so serious.




Well?

God laughs

a stream--brook--

gurgles--plays


jumping over pebbles--stones--boulders--

--sand.


God laughs.

Beauty

Beauty

spins a tight circle

around Divinity;


can you see Her


dance?

a conversation with God

on my way home from a walk, a beautiful sight caught my attention.

my eyes saw the brilliant green of leaves illuminated against the night sky by the white light of a street lamp.

my heart saw God smiling.

i knew He was up to something.

yet still i climbed the stairs, tired, and crawled into bed--choosing to read a few poems from a book before sleeping.

this Line jumped out at me from a page: "wayfarer, now is no time to sit still."

my heart knew i had to go back out, but my mind fought it. however, eventually, i allowed my heart to win out and put my clothes back on.

outside, with earbuds in, i heard my name.

confused, i turned. an acquaintance.

"you'll never hear the Voice of God like that," she warned.

it took me a moment to recognize those words: words i had penned down myself. words about being plugged into nature instead of plugged in to me.

she smiled: "i read that one."

chit-chat, then i moved on.

"she has a good point, you know," a Voice in my head.

"yes, she does."

"you made that point."

"i suppose technically You did."

"you're right, I did. but I chose you as the messenger for My words." God paused. "you didn't think anyone read that, did you?"

"no, i suppose i really didn't."

"she did; and so did others. for all your whining and complaining that no one ever listens to you, you have quite a large audience. you should learn to appreciate what I've given you."

"but i really don't feel like anyone is listening to me."

"do you write only for recognition from others? for feelings? that is not the reason I have allowed you to hear Me. those around you aren't listening to your words, but to Mine."

i knew this fact, had had it explained to me a million times, yet somehow managed to keep forgetting.

"i'm sorry--i'll try to do better."

i had reached the same place i remembered from before--green leaves dancing in the light and wind.

and i could tell that God was smiling once more as He walked along beside me.

"brian, there is a lot in the world that you will never understand, much that you will never know. your task is to live in total abandon, total obedience to Me. did I not tell you to keep from worrying? have I not been putting things into place? have you not seen Me in the things around you? I'm even in the leaves, for goodness' sake!"

"i know, i really do. i've seen You all around me, but sometimes it is hard to step back and let You run things. i like to have things under control."

"and that is why I need you. do you not know how I work? I choose the least likely person for each task and use them to complete it--the proud teach humility and the meek become the brave. I don't speak to you because you have some talent . . . I speak to you because you have none, and it is only in the moments when you acknowledge that fact that I do come to you."

while He spoke a fox crossed the road and the excess water from the sprinklers gurgled across the sidewalk. i adjusted my steps to avoid crushing a bug.

everything in the world was in harmony and i was nothing more than another drop in the bucket.

i really am nothing, i thought.

"now you begin to understand," God said with that familiar twinkle in His eyes. "now go home and get some rest, you have a busy day tomorrow."

this time it was my turn to smile.

"thank You," i said to the Leaves, then walked home.

every sun of heaven

every sun--son?--of heaven

opens like a great blossom

each night,

ready to spill Your love.


their petals fall, kiss the ground

illuminating Your glory and

worshipping

the Divine Creativity.


light my soul on fire, that i may be

a sun--son?--to unfold like

a flower

and cast my petals.


amen

update de vie

so to make up for all the somewhat heavy posts i've been making on here, i thought a nice little update on what's going on in my life was due.

mom and dad came down to memphis last saturday to help me make the move from the apartment in carpenter to my new room in towers. while technically a move down, i feel really good about it--i've spent the morning today getting my stuff organized and arranged and i think it will work out nicely.

i have a really good feeling about living there this coming semester. we'll see what happens.

i only have one more night of duty as an ra--and two hours of check-in for the law school--and then i am done with this job. while it was definitely a Godsend, i think i am ready to be done. it will be nice to go to sleep when i want to, without the fear of getting a phonecall in the middle of the night to let someone into their apartment.

of course, this means i will need to start looking for a new job, probably somewhere on-campus. hopefully it won't be too hard to find something.

mom and dad left me the car when they came down so i will be able to drive myself home this wednesday. it's really nice to have a car, but--being used to making due without one--i really can't think of too many places to go.

c'est la vie.

anyway, i think this post was incredibly boring and probably not worth the time to read it, but i felt like writing and didn't have anything really worthwhile to say.

ciao.

the cathedral of your soul

i once heard the human body described as a cathedral: beautiful, often ornate, but--chiefly--empty.

what fills the cathedral of the human heart?

Love.

or rather, that is how it should be.

too often, instead of allowing the Wind of love to blow freely through these lofty, inner spaces and refresh us (and through us, the world), we fill these halls with stuff.

clothes, shoes, computers, video games, music, friends, food . . . whatever the fashion of the day dictates.

because, as humans, we know we have these inner spaces. we know they were designed to be filled.

most of us just don't know with what.

so we may start with a television tucked unobtrusively in the corner. but it's impossible to stop there: before you know it, there's a stack of dvds a mile high and a mile wide blocking the windows and preventing the Wind of love--of God--from blowing through us.

sensing the empty space, the stillness in our soul, we just want more and more.

eventually, our heart becomes simultaneously full of stuff while lacking a single ounce of substance.


and, instead of feeling Love, we become inwardly unhappy--whether we realize it or not.

(i could go on and on about the problems that rise from this unhappiness--from depression to divorce--but i will allow you to draw those conclusions on your own.)

my point is this: clean yourself--your heart--out.

there is a reason Jesus' ministry was mobile: He was so full of Love, so blown with the Wind, that (i think) He was almost physically incapable of material possession--being instead compelled to spread the Love as far as He could.

"again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." -matthew 19:24

take only what you need and leave the rest.

close your eyes and imagine your inner cathedral (mine looks like the hagia sophia ;) ).

what do you see there?

mentally remove the junk. empty your heart out until there remains only you, alone in that cavernous and holy space, kneeling humbly at the altar.

stay there in that (mental) position of surrender until you can feel the gentle Breeze on your cheek. embrace it, listen to it. wait for it to grow to a deafening, howling Wind that you cannot ignore.

follow that Wind wherever it leads you, and there--in that journey--you will find true happiness . . . and true Love.

open mind, open ears

when we are certain of the way God is going to work, He will never work in that way anymore. -oswald chambers

God is in the everyday, but He is not in the routine. He can be found in the common things around you, but He is not common--because He will only appear in those things at the moment and in the way that you are least expecting.

people use the cliché "don't put God in a box" all the time, but do they ever really listen to themselves?

rarely.

i've found God's Voice in all sorts of places: from fortune cookies to (secular) songs on the radio. there is no end to the Divine Creativity when He wants to get a message across.

but i can assure you that the second you crack open that cookie or switch on that radio expecting to hear the Voice--you won't.

because it doesn't work that way.

don't be concerned with the way in which God will speak to you--leave that up to Him.

instead, talk to Him with faith that He will answer and when He does--through whatever means--your heart will know that you have heard the Voice.

all you have to do is pay attention.

and don't put God in a box. ;)

old story, new perspective

i've been reading a lot of books by paulo coelho recently. if you haven't heard of him, you should check him out; he's a brazilian author whose books deal with a lot of spirituality.

and his work has really helped to change my perspective on things.

most recently regarding the story of nicodemus.

while reading the zahir, the most recent coelho addition to my collection, something about that story finally clicked and i was able to see it in a new light. or rather, have the idea of "rebirth" explained from a different point of view.

an excerpt:

"do you believe that your past loves have taught you to love better?"

"they've taught me to know what i want."

"i didn't ask that. have your past loves taught you to love your husband better?"

"no, on the contrary. in order to surrender myself to him, i had to forget all the scars left by other men. is that what you mean?"

"in order for the true energy of love to penetrate your soul, your soul must be as if you had just been born."

reading through this dialogue between two characters in the novel, the story of nicodemus popped into my head. i don't know if that was the author's intention or not (i would venture to guess no), but that was the immediate mental jump for me the second i read that last sentence.

coelho, through one of his characters, goes on to discuss at length how in order to truly experience love, it is necessary to forget our past--all the scars, failures, disappointments . . . and even the good things--and focus our energies solely on the present.

is this the process Jesus sat up speaking to nicodemus about until the wee hours of the morning? i don't think that's an unreasonable idea. hearing the story as a child i always thought nicodemus had to be pretty dense not to understand what Jesus was talking about as the sunday school teacher explained it to me: to be reborn is simply to ask Jesus into your heart.

that doesn't seem too difficult.

certainly something that a teacher of the Law could wrap his mind around.

but, as with many things Jesus tried to explain, i don't think it was that cut-and-dried.

hmm. there are words in my heart, but i just can't seem to transfer the exact idea in my head to here.

i guess the biggest thing that was impressed upon me as i thought over this today and that i would like to pass on is the idea of living in the present and forgetting the past--both good and bad.

that's the sort of "rebirth" that is a little difficult to fathom.

the wind blows where it pleases, and you hear its sound, but you don't know where it comes from or where it is going. so it is with everyone born of the Spirit. -john 3:8

the greek word, pnuema, that was here translated as "wind" could also be translated as spirit or Spirit (. . . or so say the notes at the bottom of the page in my Bible). now, i'm not a theologian and i haven't been to seminary, but try to stick with me here.

this passage about wind seems kind of random thrown in the middle of a passage about rebirth and the kingdom of God . . . so it has to be some sort of metaphor.

to me, in light of the new perspective granted by the zahir, it presents the idea of the importance of the present. you can hear the wind (an act in the present) but you don't know where it came from (past) or where it is going (future). the focus is on the here-and-now, and the here-and-now only.

you must free yourself of all the prejudices and mental souvenirs of the past.

you must free yourself of worry about the future.

you must exist only in the present and give yourself--your soul--over to Love. completely.

and through this--the embrace of Love and appreciation for now--you will experience a kind of "rebirth" for your soul.

yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today is a gift. that's why it's called the present. -bil keane

the disturbing disappearance of faith

"Abram believed the LORD and it was credited to him as righteousness." Genesis 15:6

i've found that in today's world there is a disturbing lack of real faith in God.

and i don't just mean in the secular world, i mean in the church.

let me ask you this:

which do you place your faith in: God or the scriptures?

yes, i realize these often overlap. and yes, i agree that scripture is the word of God. but it is the word of God spoken through certain men to specific people in specific places at specific times. it is enlightened and holy, but only in light of these facts.

in order to know the true will and Person of God, it is important to know the context of these--His--words. the God behind the words is more important than the words themselves.

but i'm afraid we're losing that.

and i would like to know when the church got off telling people that God can only make His will known through the written word.

for the duration of His earthly ministry, Jesus was continually praising children for their faith and instructing His disciples to be more like children in their thinking with regard to His teachings and the Law.

let me ask you this: can children read?

(especially in that day and age?)

. . . no.

so then, if children can find the will of God, then it has to be as apparent outside of the Bible as it is inside.

it has to be evident in His creation, in the world around us.

when Jesus wanted to confirm the plan of His Father before His death, did He roll open a torah scroll and read? no. He went to a garden. He immersed Himself in creation itself: the most evident of His Father's works, visible to everyone.

Jesus did this--withdrawing into nature--repeatedly through the course of His life, as did the prophets before Him, who received the word of the Lord in caves and on mountains as far back as moses and the forefathers. john the baptist even lived in the wilderness.

do you ever think how easy it must have been for abraham? imagine being able to listen to God without having to filter Him through 3,000 years of tradition and opinion. did he have a bible to read? no, but he had a heart willing to listen and obey. and he trusted so much in the Person of God that he was willing to sacrifice his son.

imagine being able to have that sort of blind faith and trust.

you can. just listen.

open your heart and mind to hear the Voice, and when you think you have heard God speak, then go to the Bible to see if what you heard lines up with the Person that the written words describe.

and in that way you will find the true will of God.

distractions

do you ever wonder if all the things we have are only distractions?

take your ipod, for example.

i mean, i love mine to death . . . i can just put the earbuds in any time and boom! i'm listening to my favorite tunes.

however, by the same act, i'm missing out on everything that is happening around me . . . i'm unable to hear the voice of the world.

the voice of God.

i sometimes felt that my parents were needlessly strict and "stuck in the stone age" when i was growing up. i wasn't allowed a television in my room, was only allowed to spend thirty minutes on the computer each day, and didn't receive a cellphone until last year.

now, looking back on it, i'm glad.

and i know that, while i may not have enjoyed it at the time, it served a purpose.

that time helped me learn to hear the Voice. and, spending nights in my room writing in my journals or reading by candlelight, i was able to cultivate a much closer relationship to the world around me--and God--than most people that i can think of. my imagination was free to soar, uninterrupted by text messages or distracted by mind-numbing tv shows.

unfortunately, now that i live away from home and HAVE a television in my room and HAVE a laptop i can take wherever, whenever i feel like i've lost that connection. i feel like i've taken that relationship i am supposed to have to the world around me and replaced it with a connection to the virtual world--which, while entertaining, is not nearly as fulfilling.

do you really think society is that much more advanced that it was 100 years ago? 500? 1,000?

or have we just found more ways to distract ourselves from our true purpose?

i think miracles don't happen anymore because people stopped believing that they were possible.

i think your childhood dreams only become impossible when you decide they are.

i think most people never realize their potential.

so turn off the television and go for a walk. leave the ipod and cellphone at home, and just listen: there's a great big world out there with things to teach you. if you don't hear anything the first time, that's okay. try it again. it could take some time for you to get plugged back into the world around you.

i think people have lost touch with their natural place in the world--it's more than just a place for you to live and work. it's more than just a resource for your exploitation.

it's an adventure.

as children we understand that adventure and live in contact with our imagination--nothing is impossible.

we often forget our purpose and lose that optimism as we get older. we come to accept what we are given without asking for more; or we greedily ask for all the wrong things. either way we are cheating ourselves, unable to fill the hole in our hearts--either by denying its existence or trying to fill it with shovel-fulls of the wrong things.

maybe that's why Jesus said His kingdom was for the children.

maybe that's why Jesus said it would be easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven.

there's a Voice calling to you, just be quiet enough to hear.

and never settle.

my epic . . . the first chapter

"what is it you fear, m'lady?" -aragorn

"a cage. to stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire." -eowyn

even from the first time i saw the two towers in theatres, this quote has stuck with me. because, i think, on many levels it echoes my own inner fears.

i want to do something big. i feel like i'm supposed to.

and here i am, with twenty trips around the sun under my belt, still with no clue what to do with my life and whether or not i will amount to anything. rather than helping me towards my goals, college feels more like a space-filler, something to do to kill the time. but i don't need to kill the time. in fact, i feel like i'm running out of it.

some days i even feel like i've taken dramatic steps backwards.

i'm not getting any younger.

and--as people around me are getting married, graduating, and settling into their lives--i'm beginning to panic.

where's my epic?

when does my story begin?

eowyn got to ride off to war . . . when can i?

*pause for breath*

so, as i was writing the above, a thought occurred to me. well, not so much occurred to me as hit me like a brick wall.

this is still the first chapter.

not making any sense? don't call me crazy yet . . .

have you ever read a biography?

unless it happens to be about a child star, there is never really much emphasis placed on the early years of a person's life.

in fact, the childhood and education of people being profiled are usually crammed into one short chapter at the beginning of the book that reads like a glorified timeline. this boring chapter is usually entitled "the early years" or "the formative years" or "the years before they knew what the heck they were going to do with their life."

okay, so maybe the last one was a bit of an exaggeration. but you know what i mean.

there's never much emphasis on the beginning of someone's life, it's more about how they end it.

epics begin like every other story, it's in the course of the story that it becomes something special, something larger than everyday life, something for j. r. r. tolkien or c. s. lewis or george lucas.

strike that last one. he should have stopped closer to the beginning. but that's another post . . .

deciding life isn't going anywhere now is like turning off the television at the cantina scene in a new hope because you think its stupid. think of all you're missing!

i mean, Jesus didn't even begin his ministry until He was thirty. and He was a carpenter before that.

general lee had to spend all those years in private schools and at west point building character before he could become a hero.

and mother teresa spent YEARS in schools and convents before embarking for india.

that's some pretty good company.

i think so, anyway.

i just have to hold on and persevere. everything will work itself out and i will be okay.

and all chance of valor won't be gone until i'm dead. ;)

hey daniel, interpret this

i had a very interesting dream last night for the first time in a while, and i just can't get over the feeling that it might have some deeper meaning.

try to help me out?

i don't remember the beginning of the dream at all, but the part that has stuck with me begins with me riding a horse across campus accompanied by two other riders. one of the riders is someone i know (my arabic professor from the fall semester, nabil) and the other is some invention of my imagination. we're all in arab garb.

we are not moving at a slow pace, either: we are riding as fast as we can go. saladin, an historical figure i find very interesting, is advancing behind us with his army and we have to seek the help of the other sheiks to defend against him. i find it interesting that in the dream i am scared to death of saladin, whereas sitting here right now i think he's pretty cool.

anyway, back to the dream. the sheiks we are riding to are, conveniently, living in the apartment complex on-campus where i am an ra.

the sense of urgency is pervasive and i am apparently not content with my horse's speed, because i am continually beating the horse with my palms . . . hard enough that when i look down at my hands, i am bleeding. the horse, a beautiful white-grey, has (my) bloodstains on his shoulders. despite my beatings, the horse is unable--or unwilling?--to speed up.

we finally reach the complex and dismount, heading towards the office where all of the sheiks are in council. the member of my party that i don't recognize keeps talking and talking about how glad he is that we have nabil there to help present our case because he is wise and highly respected by the entire community.

i'm glad nabil is there, too, because he makes me feel a lot safer. in the course of this dialogue, the first chance the characters in the dream have gotten to talk, it becomes aparent that the nation we need aid for is mine and nabil is just there to act as a helpful intermediary between me and the sheiks.

the dream ends with the three of us tying up our horses outside and making our way to the office. i woke up when i had my hand on the door, about to open it.

so, in case you didn't follow all of that, here is the reader's digest version:

brian and his former arabic professor are riding across campus on horses to get help from a band of bedouin sheiks in defense against an invasion of saladin.

the palm thing seems important to me, as well as the fact that i'm on a white horse being chased. the presence of nabil and saladin is also intriguing.

anybody got anything? i've looked around a bit online at different dream dictionaries, but nothing really seems to hit the spot.

thanks for your help!