Think about this. . .

"Millions of Americans will go to bed hungry tonight on a cold street and most of you don't give a shit. In fact most of you are more scandalized that I just used the word 'shit' in chapel than you are that millions of people are homeless." - Tony Campolo

Think about it. . .

Lives in the Balance

Yet another painfully honest Jackson Browne song. (If you don't listen to him yet, all I can say is, WHY NOT?)

I’ve been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear
You might ask what it takes to remember
When you know that you’ve seen it before
Where a government lies to a people
And a country is drifting to war
And there’s a shadow on the faces
Of the men who send the guns
To the wars that are fought in places
Where their business interest runs
On the radio talk shows and the t.v.
You hear one thing again and again
How the u.s.a. stands for freedom
And we come to the aid of a friend
But who are the ones that we call our friends--
These governments killing their own?
Or the people who finally can’t take any more
And they pick up a gun or a brick or a stone
There are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire
There’s a shadow on the faces
Of the men who fan the flames
Of the wars that are fought in places
Where we can’t even say the names
They sell us the president the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But they’re never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?"" Actually , who are you not to be? You are a child of God. your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlighened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us...And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." Nelson Mandela

This is my younger sister, isn't she gorgeous? I took this picture as one of her school pictures this year, she's a sophomore in high school now. If you know any nice and intellectual 16-year-old boys, refer them to me for the application process to date my really cute sister. . . .

Just another Wednesday. . .

It's a beautiful day. I just sat outside and talked about life with two of my radiantly beautiful girlfriends. Sometimes we just sit and don't say much, but then also we have times where we wonder about everything in life. There are some truly beautiful souls here, and sometimes I think that the majority of people here miss the trees for the forest. I know that I used that idiom wrong, and I did it on purpose. There is an overwhelming mass of people that attend this institution every day, and sometimes it's easy just to see everyone as just another face. But gosh, I have gotten to know some of these "faces," and they are beautiful.

Today, me and my girlfriends all communed while sharing our leather journals with each other, talking about what we write in them. It was a lovely bonding moment, talking about how we each are driven to write.

I wish that I could write, for a living I mean. I so often doubt my own writing ability, or whether I even have anything valid to say, or anything poetic to express, or any worthwhile stories to tell. I don't know. . . .I think I'll have to search that out soon, because I've been running from my passion for writing long enough, and it is such a deep part of me that I can't bottle up for much longer. Like Sylvia Plath wrote: "I write because there is a voice within me that will not be still."

Oh, how I crave a world that is just. Where fairness is available for all. I grieve for the oppression in this world, and feel so helpless to change it. Sometimes I think that I'm ambitious enough to change the world, but then shortly after I realize that I don't have shit. Maybe we were born to live this life for ourselves, for our own self-edification, and then grow old and die. But maybe there's more than that. Maybe there's so much more that we haven't even dared to imagine. Seriously, I feel so much passion. . . .but I feel so helpless at times. There's so many why questions. . . . .

A cynical day today. . .

I am so full of thoughts, I can hardly speak. . . but yet, I probably could speak for an hour without stopping too. I have been in two very thought-provoking classes today, and both of them drove me to thinking a great deal about religion and social interactions and culture. Also, as I was walking around Bethel today, I just LONGED for true connectedness. . . .I felt like a stranger walking among. . . . .more strangers. I loathe the high-pitched question: "How are you?" as we pass in the halls, a question that feigns sincerity, but communicates superficiality to my ears. We are consumed with our own lives, I am consumed with my life as well, and we don't REALLY have the time to sit down and interact with each other. There are too many things that are far too important. It seems as if we are only existing at times, and not really living. Sometimes, when you have witnessed people who REALLY know how to live, you begin to wonder what you have been doing yourself this whole time. When I was in Latin America, I got to know many people who knew how to LIVE, how to be in the moment, how to love passionately, how to witness beauty, how to learn from history, and they seemed to be more alive than I think I've ever been. So, now, when I come back to a place like this, I feel so dead. My friend Rachel once said: "Everyone here at Bethel just seems to be so dead." There is no passion in our voices or conviction in our souls, we simply go from one day to the next to simply survive. . . . .(it's so curious that I always write on here when I am at the height of emotion or passion, and my words are usually a reflection of that. I never really feel impressed upon to write unless I have something in me, compelling me to write. I think I ought to start writing on mundane days, and seeing how I write in the midst of routine. . . .who knows?)

Gosh, I miss some of the beautiful souls around here. . . .like Sarah Wehrenburg, and Joel Addington, and Andene Christopherson. . . . .some of those beautiful souls that could see right into you without going through the fakeness first. Where are the authentic souls around here? I feel lost in a sea of fakeness. . . . .

Weary on life

Seriously, it is only the first day of September, I should seriously not be this tired. I spent an entire summer living slowly, reading and thinking and working at weird (but good) intervals. And now the frenzy of fall semester has begun, and I feel like I don't even have time to think, let alone breathe. I want to connect with so many people, because it's my last year, so I have to decide which friendships are the ones I really want to invest in. And, I live off campus, so it's a little more difficult to be intentional about friendships when I live 15 minutes away. But of course, I wouldn't give up this opportunity to live in the inner city, it is truly priceless.

Gosh, I just AHELAR expression (I couldn't think of the good enough english word, so there's an intense Spanish word for you). I felt like I understood at least my own thoughts this summer, when I had so much ample time to process them, but now I feel like I can only write or think or pray in between the many things in my schedule. I don't like being busy! It cheapens life! I WANT to be able to have time to talk with friends and drink tea and read a novel or some poetry, but life takes over, and responsibility is now king, and I am a slave to studies. So, when I come home, all I want to do is collapse in my room and prepare for bed. What a sad existence. I don't know why I'm having this strange pity party, maybe I should go hang out with my roommates instead of complaining that I have no community. Gosh, I just need someone to process life with- so that it starts to make sense!

I try to pray, but all that comes out is tentative dares to this being that I can't grasp! I want to shake my fist in God's face and dare this being to show him or herself. We live in a rational society, I was not raised to understand mysticism, but I have this sneaking suspicion that this "God" is a lot more mystical than we might think.

I have several classes that deal with issues of poverty, oppression, racism, culture, and pacifism, all of these beautiful issues that are very dear to my heart. But the problem is, they are huge lofty ISSUES to me right now, they are not tangible and real. Right now, what is tangible and real are the faces that I see everyday as I walk the halls of Bethel. My heart grieves for these lives that are searching for something, whether they realize it or not. Masks of feigned happiness abound all around me as I saunter through the crowds, and I ended my day today with such a heaviness. It's almost as if we are dying of thirst by an abundant spring, and we DON'T KNOW WHY. What is it about this culture, that we are so fast paced, success-driven, capitalistic- and we don't know how to be silent? We don't know how to just enjoy life, and walk slowly! Try that today- just actually walk slowly! I bet you can't do it! I know I can't sometimes, but I sometimes wonder why I'm in such a rush when I have no where to go. The other day, I had lunch down by the lake at Bethel with my friend Nate, and when we were done eating, we went along part of the shore, just looking at things like flowers and reeds and trees and just LOOKING at them instead of passing by. There was so much beauty in those simple things that I pass by every day- it astounded me.

For some reason, I just want to go and cry. Not because I hate life or anything; the exact opposite, I desire so much in this life, but yet I feel grief for the shallowness of so much of it. I want to "drive deep and suck all the marrow out of life," as Thoreau said. I read something today, a girl from Bethel wrote: "The greatest thing I fear is mediocrity." That is true for me as well.

Why am I so damn restless and dissatisfied? What the hell am I looking for?

Pardon my crazy ramblings. . . .