humility.

tonight my grandmother and i spoke for a while, and rather out of the blue she asked me something. she said, "are you a happy person? you're a happy person, aren't you?" she asked happily herself. in an effort as of late to answer things rather honestly instead of reflexively, i paused. after a moment i responded.

"i try my best."

over the past few months, my life has not been pleasant. i don't sleep much at night, i cry instead, i have quick shifts in appetite and mood, i feel sick anytime i eat, i take everything personally leading to negative feelings towards myself, i question my worth constantly, my mind always races, and i live off caffeine because i'm too lethargic to live any other way.

for the longest time i told myself everyone lives this way, that i was just feeling sick to my stomach, and that stress was natural with my schedule. i don't think i can lie to myself like that anymore. i don't think everyone has forgotten what real sleep is like. (do you know i can't remember the last night i got good sleep that wasn't caused by me taking some sort of medicine that causes drowsiness? it's awful to not remember what sleep is like.)

i don't like to admit this. i don't want to be who i am, if i'm like this. i type all of this with the concern that if anyone reads this, they'll say to themselves, "oh, okay, so she's fucking crazy." i feel crazy in that i feel like everyone's going to think i'm unstable, unable to work, ready to fly off the handle. i didn't want to admit to myself that this is who i am, that i have a problem, that i'm human.

that maybe i need a little more help than others.

i decided the mature thing to do was to seek help. i'm not quitting school or anything, but i'll be going to a counselor when the spring semester starts. we'll see how that goes and what progresses. i'm still taking 18 hours of classes (happily), still working at the writing center (i love my job), and still graduating (thank goodness, fingers are crossed). i just might have to make some very intentional choices about how my time is spent outside of classes, work, and church.

my life seems to have created so many demons, and now i feel like my own body is one of them. i can't fight myself any longer, so i have to take who i am and handle it. i decided the mature thing to do is deal with this when i'm 21, instead of waiting until i'm 50 and hitting rock bottom or something. that would be a total epic fail.

when i decided this wasn't normal, i took tests online (dorky, i know) but all my concerns seem to line up with generalized anxiety disorder or severe depression. it was actually really nice to see that my symptoms/behavioral characteristics actually made some sense.

i'm seeking help. i'm not stupid, i'm not insane, i'm not crazy, and i'm not out of control. i think i'm just stressed more than some people, which has repercussions. i've been told a lot of this can be chemical imbalances.

i just want peace. i can't think of a single time in my life i was free of thought and worry.

also, i know there is a huge stigma about people who are Christian yet deal with these sorts of issues. there's the prevailing idea that these feelings start because of a person not "giving something to God," some specific sin that is reigning in a person's life.

if when you read this, your advice to me was going to be based around that, i'd prefer you keep that thought to yourself, with all do respect. i don't need to be demonized; i do that to myself enough. each and every morning i wake up and work out my salvation with fear and trembling, as the Bible advises. if the Bible is right, and a state of humility is the best place for a person to be -- believe me, i'm there.

the spiritual encouragement i need is community and compassion. that's what i've always understood real Christianity to be about, and that's all i ask for. as for specific spiritual advice, i'll be seeing a counselor who focuses a bit on spirituality, so she and i can talk that out. otherwise, i have a priest and i have the wesley foundation and i have any other spiritual confidants that i choose.

also, this isn't a note i wrote to spark discourse. if you disagree with something in here, that's fine, but the purpose of this is to write things out and feel some catharsis, not so that any of you can have facebook wars over your opinion on this, that, or the other. this isn't about opinions. if you'd like to talk about mental issues and your opinions on them, you're welcome to write your own note, but this isn't an argumentative forum.

this is just about me being real with myself and being real with my communities. the people i live with, the people i see at church on sundays, the people i take classes with possibly, the order of saint luke, the wesley foundation, etc. (if you're tagged, you're probably part of these communities.. and if you're not tagged, it isn't personal).

lastly, for a while now i've been known as someone who listens and counsels people through various issues, and some of you have been talking to me about your problems recently. please understand that just because i have problems of my own doesn't mean i am not available to help others through theirs. other people need help just as much as i do, and i'd be happy to be those ears to anyone who needed that (and i've been happy to listen up until now, no worries). so, if i've worked with you on your personal issues lately, you can keep talking to me. i listen to you because i love you and want to help.

in short, i don't know peace, but i'm working towards it. oh, and please don't pity me -- i'll be okay.

sometimes i go the wrong way so my GPS will talk to me.

after many nights of family and montgomery-ness, i escaped to troy for the night with brittany, looking for fun, etc. before leaving montgomery, we decided that it would be good to eat at chili's before we left. ugh. neither of us had ever eaten there before and if i am ever picking a restaurant again, i will not be picking chili's. service was awful, followed by me ordering shrimp that was super fishy tasting (which i'm sorry but shrimp isn't supposed to taste like i ordered fish) which was promptly sent back because it made me gag. my final meal? mashed potatoes and chips and salsa. ummmm, not a lot of vegetarian (or even PESCAtarian) options available. thanks chili's. thanks for putting murder into just about everything you serve. so i got a side order of mashed potatoes, chips, and one drink (alcoholic -- summer paradise or something) and it was SIXTEEN dollars. um, that drink was not worth 8 dollars. thanks for not putting any sort of prices on your drink menu. but, alas, it was funny to laugh at how awful it was.

once we got to troy, we stopped at one of the i think 3 bars in troy -- the double branch. while this isn't a place i'd regularly hang out (it was rather sketchy, lol) it made for an interesting night. lots of laughing, strangely we met random people, good bartender, and some friends met us there (fred, ki, and glynn -- yay!). upon finishing there, we went back to fred and ki's apartment to hang out, then back to brittany's for sleep time. all in all, i pretty much have zero complaints about last night. it was random, and enjoyable, and not montgomery. :)

now, time to be back in montgomery for about 11 more days. woo!

new year's "resolution"?

i personally pretty much hate things like making a new year's resolution, but talking to a friend last night about hers made me realize that i do, in fact, want to try to make a point to do something more -- and that's write daily. i am not saying it's a resolution, because i needn't put a name on it, but it is something i'd like to stick to doing. i'm going to try to blog daily, but it might end up being something i do in a journal, not for all of you to see.

in other news, it's Christmas, and i've had a good past few days. i received many things i'm very thankful for, and have enjoyed (for the most part) time with family. my sister gave me the movie Wall-E, which i think is absolutely adorable and i'm happy i have it. i got a beautiful pea coat, which i will need when i move more northern. i also got the satanic verses by salman rushdie, which is rather convenient because i may use it as a primary literary text in my guided independent study on post-colonialism. the only downside is that while i initially was happy that i wouldn't have to buy the book, the copy my mom got me is beautiful and i'm not sure i want to write all in it. so, i may buy a cheap used copy for studies and keep the other copy, or i may just go ahead and write in it. i also was given the vegan sourcebook. this book has pretty much solidified that i am moving towards being a vegan, though doing so pretty much requires me to move somewhere else, because on-campus dining doesn't really allow for me to eat right (ugh). but seriously, i line up with SO MUCH of the philosophy in this book, and as soon as i have a kitchen, i think i can totally use the recipes and live this way. also, i got a williams sonoma recipe book of all veggie dishes. i'm rather excited! hopefully this can lead to a general lifestyle that is a lot healthier, and mingles personal philosophy/spirituality with my diet and daily living.

in less happy news, i'm realizing something about myself that i have to figure out. it isn't pretty, but i'm trying to humble myself enough to trust people and deal with it. none of that is easy. being home helped me realize the magnitude of dealing with it though, so here i go... time to try to deal with it. bleh. i'm not really sure how open i want to be with it; i've only spoken to one person about it, so we'll see how that goes. the person i spoke to about it made me feel so much better about the entire situation, though i still have a ton of fears.

well, i didn't really mean to write this much, but i did. i've had a lot of downer moments this break (won't get into that), but i'm trying not to complain too much. here's hoping i get to see more of the people i was excited to see when i came home. i'm still trying to solidify new year's eve plans, but i'm sure that'll all fall into place.

hope everyone's having a good break from school/work/whatever, and that everyone has had happy holidays.

the existence of soul part 2.

for anyone who reads my blog fairly steadily, you may remember a blog about "the existence of soul." when i wrote that, i was not making a statement of my own belief, but simply working out (through words) my thoughts.

in reading "new seeds of contemplation" i have new thoughts to add to the question of how soul and body interact.

a quote from thomas merton:

"Hence we say rightly, though symbolically, that the body is the 'temple of God,' meaning that His truth, His perfect reality, is enshrined there in the mystery of our own being. Let no one, then, dare to hate or despise the body that has been entrusted to him by God, and let no one dare to misuse this body. Let him not desecrate his own natural unity by dividing himself, soul against body, as if the soul were good and the body evil. Soul and body together subsist in the reality of the hidden, inner person. If the two are separated from one another, there is no longer a person, there is no longer a living, subsisting reality made in the image and likeness of God. The 'marriage' of body and soul in one person is one of the things that makes man the image of God; and what God has joined no man can separate without danger to his sanity."

i don't know exactly what commentary i could have on this -- it's beautifully straight forward, really. i agree with merton's words, he makes incredible points, AND a lot of what he's said goes against some of the logic i presented in my previous post, i think. this is good -- being challenged is good. i need to continue study this both through merton and biblically.

expect "the existence of soul part 3." :)

re-inventing morality.

I read an article this week that speaks about Newsweek’s decision to write on the issue of gay marriage. You can read the article I read here. Within the article you’ll notice this quote:

“[This] battle among Christians is a battle over Christian morality, over the notion that God does indeed expect His faithful followers to conduct themselves according to moral standards which are expressed in the Bible and taught faithfully in Christian tradition. Our relativistic age has had a problem with the whole idea, and is constantly re-inventing the notion of morality to mean whatever we want it to mean.”

I’m not going to argue with someone about whether or not morality means things to people these days, because when I see parents killing their children and spouses killing spouses, I wonder if there is any morality, too. It is a very strong word, morality, and it is used often in spiritual contexts to talk about our actions, words, and deeds.

My question is this – how is the action of “re-inventing morality” horrifying when done in the name of gay marriage, but ignored in the decision to not turn the other cheek, not feed the hungry, not to sell all possessions and give to the poor? Because, seriously, who accomplishes those things to the radical extent that is expressed in the gospels? I certainly don’t. While I am not condoning the re-inventing of morality, I’m wondering why, as the Church, we can’t seem to either a) quit claiming that we do things in the name of morality or b) actually live up to the standards/morality the Bible has set.

At times, I feel like this all results in looking past planks to find splinters. Of sinners, I am the worst.

PS: I'd also watch this: interesting commentary from BOTH.

needless to say..

it has been a while since i've written, but i thought i'd go for something a little less deep as contemplations on the existence of soul. ;) instead, an update, and something rather personal.

the past few weeks have been me trying to finish up classes, do them well, and get good grades. for the first time in my life, i felt like i had an honest chance at a 4.0 and i didn't get it. i got 5 A's and 1 B. while i should be proud of myself, being so close yet not attaining what i wanted hurts. i just wanted a good 4.0 to help my GPA before transcripts got sent to grad schools. so much for that. i got my B in the stupidest class i had this entire semester; the class i abhorred. i am still angry, but realizing that life goes on. c'est la vie.

otherwise, i have good news. i slaved over a paper for my women's lit class (my teacher does NOT play, she is amazingly intelligent and expects a heck of a lot out of her students, which is refreshing). thankfully, i got a 48/50 on the paper and my professor rather liked it. even more exciting, my professor sent me an email over the break about a conference at george mason university in VA that is based around post colonialism/globalization studies. she suggested a book to me and i am going to read it and incorporate that knowledge into my paper and submit it in hopes of being a presenter at the conference. if i am accepted, i get $250 and a wonderful resume building presentation opportunity. OH and i get to go to virginia. woo. the paper that i wrote was about one of the main characters of the god of small things and how she pursues her own self-consciousness relationally, and how in doing so she breaks societal norms. it's a very feminist paper, with two of the main theoretical secondary texts being "the laugh of the medusa" by helene cixous and "this sex which is not one" by luce irigaray.

also, i don't know if this was blogged -- i wrote an abstract and sent it to the people at the popular culture association and it was accepted. i'll be speaking at a conference in new orleans this april. i'll be speaking on the topic of the chretien de troyes arthurian romances and how the view of faith shifts between those narratives and the narrative expressed in the 2004 film king arthur with clive owen.

on a less intellectual note, friday night i went to auburn to celebrate my friend ethan's 21st birthday, which was a lot of fun. dinner at niffer's, hookah at insomnia, drinks at a sketch bar, what more could we want? ;) in all seriousness, it was a blast. got to meet some new people (lots of really interesting, intellectual, fun-loving, welcoming people) and i'm sure that ethan enjoyed his birthday blast so i was pleased with that outcome.

but wait, there's more! we woke up saturday morning at jill's apartment and decided to go to atlanta with a bunch of people we didn't know. random? yes. spontaneity, ftw. the only thing that was really ftl is that i ended up going to target and buying clothes, because i didn't plan to be not in montgomery for that long, lol. anyway, once there, we ate at taco mac (after a long walk to find it) and then played frisbee at centennial square (maybe that's what it's called?), got starbucks, then headed back.

again, lots of really cool people. for some reason i had a ridiculously short temper/nerve, and in retrospect i feel really bad about that. i hope i can hang out with those people again so that there is an understanding that anything i said that was short tempered was not personal, but very internal.

so that was my weekend. and today? today i've spent time working on graduate essays and am almost officially applied to MTSO. i have to send off transcripts, and i need to send off all the application materials to apply for their harding scholarship (full tuition and a $10,000 stipend) which i desperately want. still, i feel rather accomplished.

and now, a small last note that i would like to share -- why does the phrase "needless to say" exist in the common lexicon? the phrase is ridiculous and i have become accustomed to saying it, but am kicking the habit. if something needs not be said, then why would you say it? UGH. i don't know why it bothers me so much, but it just strikes me as useless. i'd love for someone to tell me a usage of it though, so that maybe 1) it wouldn't drive me crazy, 2) i could have a good reason as to why i say it all the time, lol.

and, that's all. it's a very scattered entry, but it's my thoughts. enjoy. say hey :)

the existence of soul.

i haven't written much as of late, because i've been wrapping my mind around the ridiculous amount of papers i've had to write. while i might not be recording my thoughts, i still tend to be consistently coming up with questions and consistently seeking answers.

recently i had a thought, which has unravelled into a question/predicament. first of all, let me set the stage by saying that my spiritual views are not defined by a set of actions that one should do or not do in an attempt to achieve "morality." morality, you see, is a subjective term (societally). what is permissible to me may be an abomination to another, yet may not be that big of a deal at all to someone else.

my question though deals with the entire concept of people "saving souls." why is it that, so commonly, sermons that are trying to "save souls" are simultaneously arguing that souls need to be saved because the person is engaging in "immoral" acts?

let me explain my issue with the notion. the thing is, first - we are dealing with the concept of the soul. if a person happens to believe that people have souls, a person would (most likely) agree that the soul of a person is not hinged upon physical being. the entire concept of there being an afterlife gives the philosophical/spiritual assent that, because a person has a soul, a person can exist (as a soul) without their body.

with that said, why is the biggest concern dealing with how a soul exists, often things that are physical desires? drinking, sex, drugs... these are very physical desires, very much linked to our bodies. yet, we seem to gather that by a person doing these things, their soul is in jeopardy?

i guess i just believe these concepts are rather discordant, when i think about them. the crux exists in the fact that i do believe that a person's ontology is marked by the coexistence of their body and their soul. this would, of course, seem to suggest that i do think physical actions affect the soul. the thing is though, i don't believe that. while i believe they coexist, i'm not sure i believe that one of the two factors results in a soul being "in right standing," and such.

i guess the bigger crux, though, is that i am not comfortable with anyone being the legislator of this subjective morality and i do not believe that any person has the ability to "save souls." the entire idea of saving souls would stem from a person believing that they had an otherworldly power that gave them such rights. while i make the spiritual assent that many are called to do good things in the Lord's name (i believe the sacraments offer ontological change as well as mystical change and influence), i believe even these callings do not lead someone who is still living in their body, that tattered coat upon a stick, to do what i believe only the great I AM could do.

and, in closing, i just can't tell you (in good conscience) that i believe that i or anyone else existing physically knows how, exactly, to "save souls," because knowing how to do so would mean knowing a soul fully and it is hard for me to believe anyone on this earth knows any soul fully -- even their own.

(i enjoy having questions. there is a peace within knowing that i am striving towards perfection and testing everything and discerning what is good.)

hollow.

i am currently going through a sickeningly introspective view of myself. i say sickening because i feel physically ill at times thinking about it. i am having a really hard time dealing with self and making sense of who i am. it is such a strange feeling, because lately i have felt more secure in erin warde than i have ever felt in my entire life, and just as soon as i feel so secure, something shifts and i am unsure. i guess my fault begins in that i believed i could ever be fully comfortable with self.

there is something innately about me that desires something i don't have. something i don't feel i've ever had. something that, because of recent surveys of past and self, i believe i may have pushed away while saying i desperately wanted. i can't decide if i have actively ruined this, or that something about me ruined this. it is a hard concept to deal with, either way.

i can come up with a ridiculous amount of things i should be and am thankful for, yet when darkness comes and i have no distractions, i am still on the verge of tears and hollow.

cosmic dance.

a while ago i went to the peanut festival, and my friend ryan and i struck a deal. we would each write sonnets about fireworks, and we would present them to someone to judge. while i do not necessarily like this poem, it's the only work i've done with our little deal. we'll see how it is received. :) comments/criticism welcomed. (ryan, this is the best i can do RIGHT NOW. and don't take any of my ideas, EITHER :P)

----

Cosmic Dance

Fire screamed across the sky,
Green, gold, red, and blue.
Fireworks gave iridescence to the air.
Late on a Saturday night,
We closed our eyes, and still the sky
Appeared a cosmic dance of fire and movement.
Even through eyelids, we saw fire shoot;
Clear and brazen across the usual black.
The red held tight to the blue,
A curtsy was given to each other hue,
And together – they each danced,
Quickly, effortlessly, gliding across.
That night, the Light was seen and heard.
Stars, moon, sky – jealous, silent, lost.

confirmation.

it took a while for me to post this to my blog, but it's official --





i'm confirmed into the episcopal church. :) thanks be to God!

srsly?

"It's proof-texting, which is using the scripture to fit their opinion," said Hepp. "They are using the idea of love as the foundation of Christianity, instead of sin and God's will."

.......

now do you see why sometimes i don't want to claim Christianity?
sometimes it is easier to say "episcopalian," because at least then people will know my beliefs are probably out-of-the-box.
lol, oh well. in the fullness of time there will hopefully be resolution. and loving kindness. and no divisions. and people who love.

until then, i will say my prayers. and i will try to love everyone, with God's help.
(and those last 3 words are the most important, srsly.)

thankful.

lately i've been given the opportunity to be a friend to some people, outside of just hanging out and laughing. i've been invited into these people's lives in the sense that they've needed guidance, someone to listen, and mostly i think just someone to look back at them and say "hey, you're not insane for feeling the way you feel."

i often need to have friends like that, and it has meant so much to me to be that sort of friend. it is ridiculously flattering to be invited into a person's problems, simply because a person has to humble themselves to a degree in order to ask for that sort of help, and be able to the person their speaking to immensely in order to talk about whatever it is that bothers them.

i'm thankful for the people who have trusted me lately. i hope i can always be that sort of person. :)

frustration.

i hate jealousy.

it sows anger where i want to reap love.

i wish i could love the people i can't stand.

on being gay & Christian.

truthfully, this dilemma is not something i face, though i would say i understand the issue to a degree in that i have to watch people very close to me battle with what they should do when they feel that they are both gay and Christian. (i preface this blog with that to stress the fact that i am not trying to say that i fully understand the issue, because i really don't, but that i would like to stress some thoughts i have based on my interaction with Christians in the LGBTQQ community.)

right now i have a very close friend who is trying to figure out how to feel about themselves because this person is Christian yet has recently come to terms with their homosexuality. we've talked a good bit lately and it's gotten me thinking a lot on the topic.

some gay Christians i've known have struggled at the outset of dealing with their sexuality due to something profoundly detrimental to them -- the thought that they cannot be both things, because the faith community they've always associated with has told them (either explicitly or subliminally) that they cannot be gay and Christian simultaneously.

what i believe Christians who are not all inclusive may not realize is that when this attitude is fed to people who battle over their sexuality, it leads them to have identity issues. i imagine some gay Christians feel like they have to reevaluate not only who they are as a person, but who they can be in Christ. this issue can't be written off as not a big deal. a person can't say, "oh well the bible says this is wrong so they just need to stop feeling the way they feel." to say this about a person is ridiculously insensitive, and certainly isn't "loving others," which is what the bible explicitly asks of people who follow Christ.

my problem is this -- if someone wants to take the bible literally, they can take the bible literally. i am not going to try to tell anyone their faith is "wrong" because of that (though i will disagree with the lens through which they view scripture). but, if a person is going to be a bible literalist, be a bible literalist.

think about matthew 22 when it reads, "'Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?' Jesus replied: 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.'" [emphasis mine.]

if someone insists on literalism, shouldn't they take that literally? ALL the law and prophets hang on these two commandments -- to love God and to love people. if a person believes that all the law and the prophets hang on these two commandments, then when it comes down to a battle between whether the law was meant to be used to condemn or love, the answer would be love. when it comes down to the lens we view scripture with, it should be a lens focused around loving God and loving people. when it comes down to how we (as a Christian community) should react to homosexuality, we have to base our reaction in love. to do anything else would seem to go against what the Christian community has so plainly and directly been asked to do -- base all of our laws, prophets (which i read to believe our judgments and our conclusions and our understanding of how to interact as a faith community with our world) on the ideal that we should love God and love people.

what i think some people do not understand about their negative attitude towards homosexuality is that if you push the thought on someone that they can either be gay or Christian, not both things simultaneously, what happens when they cannot shake their homosexual desires? what happens if they decide that, because of consistently being told they are "wrong" and "sinful creatures," they leave their Christian communities all together and have deep, spiritual issues? the Christian community, i think, often does this to homosexuals and leaves them feeling alone, which is a state of being that the Body of Christ is supposed to be ending in the world, not creating. how can we say that we are "sticking up for righteousness" and "just trying to uphold morality" when the end result is that people may leave the very community we strive to create? there's nothing righteous and moral about pushing people away.

i won't fight someone on how they interpret scripture, because a ridiculous amount of people (if they heard all of my religious views) probably think i am a heretic for my interpretations, but it shames me to think that as a Christian community, we fail so hardcore at doing what jesus refers to as the two most important lessons we should learn from everything ever taught in the biblical gospel narratives. let me also add that i am writing this after reading the bible through a "literalist" lens, which is something i rarely do, so i am even trying to find some common ground between my usual way to interpret scripture and a form of interpretation that i don't often practice.

i also write this, as a heterosexual, because i think people often hear members of the LGBTQQ community say these things, and the overwhelming thought is, "of course they believe a, b, and c.... they're trying to justify their actions." i want to say these things as a heterosexual to show that it is not always a person trying to justify their own lifestyle, because being gay and Christian isn't something i've had to deal with, yet i still hold many of the same beliefs in regard to it as those who are gay.

you're welcome to have your own interpretations of things, but i am able to have mine too. i write this not to force this idea on anyone, but simply because i am having a disconnect in understanding how some "Christian" ideals have become "Christian," because of the points i see being made scripturally.

ps -- this blog was almost solely written to try to encourage that close friend of mine who is struggling with their identity in Christ. to them, i hope this helps you in your pursuit of self.

skin.

she rises out of a lukewarm bath
her skin goosepimpled and shaking
when cold air hits her warm, wet
cleansed skin

hands clinging to her arms
her hair mats over her face
releasing a new shower of cold drops on her
scared skin

she hates the early morning
the shock of cold to her body
because like every day before she steps in
to new skin

election 2008.

i would never tell you how to vote, because people doing that make me sick. i will also never tell you which of the candidates is the "Christian" choice, because the thought that God (in God's infinity) is boxed up and finds identity in some meager election for a governmental system that is human made is ludicrous. but, i will encourage you to vote (if you feel led, and have discerned a specific candidate you prefer) and i will support the candidate i've already voted for.

peanut festival.

a few pictures to post regarding the peanut festival :)

for starters, i had an amazing time. i enjoyed laughing and being silly and feeling like a kid again. i hadn't gone to anything like this since maybe sophomore year of high school...

so, to explain --


i went with some of my best friends.



i got to ride this thing, making me a total baller.



we saw fun fireworks, and laughed a whole heck of a lot.



and the night ended with lesley and i getting pwned by the most insane ride ever. I HAVE BRUISES. (ding)

needless to say, wonderful weekend. will store this away in my college memories brainfolder, too. :)

i had a happy halloween, did you?

i was hera, queen of the greek gods. notable feminist, and a big fan of peacocks. i ruled the party with my grecian pimp cane, and never stopped keeping it real.

but in all seriousness, i had a wonderful halloween. another good memory to store away in my "great things i did before i graduated from troy" category....

coming soon -- picture from the peanut festival :)

life.

i really need to blog more, but my life is ridiculous.

confirmation class
CLASS
work
grad school stuff
sleep
friends
reading

it all adds up. promise i will try to get some new material composed this century.

jesus loves dinosaurs.

how can you not love a jesus that cuddles baby dinos?
seriously.

everything in creation -- not just the two leggeds! right, father jeff?
:D

Those Who Have Eyes, Let Them See

Last week I spent time in Washington DC with the Troy University Wesley Foundation learning about our nation’s healthcare crisis through the guidance of the General Board of Church and Society. I attended seminars focused around the issue itself as well as the ways in which a spiritual community should react to a needing world. I learned statistics about our nation’s deficit, as well as the amounts of people who are without healthcare. After all the statistics and the seminars I attended in a cool, comfortable room, reality was apparent when we visited Christ House.

Since December 24, 1985 Christ House has been an asset to the Washington DC community. At Christ House, the homeless and impoverished are provided with health care treatment, as well as a variety of other social treatments they may need. On occasion, people will enter with leg pains, just to find out that they’ve had diabetes for years and that the only treatment available is amputation. Other times, people enter just to discover that they have cancer that has been active and spreading in their body for years. Christ House offers every medical service they can for those that enter with extensive cases, but also focuses on helping people with smaller medical needs such as flu treatment and basic healthcare that is foreign to those that are living on the streets.

Outside of medical care, the facility offers everything from psychological, job, and narcotic counseling to those that enter into the Christ House doors. Every person who enters and agrees to the rules set out by Christ House is given a caseworker to help them get back on track with their lives. These people are not just given a warm place to sleep for a few hours, but instead are put in touch with people who can help them excel even when they leave the organization.

Visiting Christ House made every statistic I had heard enter into my mental scope of reality. The stereotypes I had grown up believing about the impoverished were ripped away. One of the biggest stereotypes spoken about had to do with drug use. Most people believe that due to drug addictions, people end up living on the streets. In contrast, often people develop these drug addictions due to their time spent in shelters after they are without a place to stay. Shelters are a huge opportunity for drug sales, so those selling narcotics often target those areas. The idea that those impoverished should have helped themselves was ripped away as the founder of Christ House, Dr. Janelle Goetcheus, spoke.

The reason Troy University’s Wesley Foundation goes to Washington every year is to not only learn about an issue, but also speak with Alabama state senators about the issue and inquire about the senator’s plans to work for governmental reform regarding the topic at hand. This year, after a day and a half of seminars and a visit to Christ House, I felt prepared to enter into the offices of Jeff Sessions and ask questions about the healthcare crisis. Though Jeff Sessions was not in Washington at the time, we still spoke to two of the people who work directly under him in legislative affairs.
“Hi, I’m Erin Warde. I’m a student at Troy University and excited first time voter. Yesterday I spent time with people who do not have healthcare when I visited the Christ House organization. Our nation is shoveling large amounts of money into treatment that I believe could be saved if we implemented preventative care. What is Jeff Sessions doing to help provide preventative care to those without healthcare in Alabama?”

The response was depressing. Apparently, the efforts of Sessions towards those without healthcare extend to supporting various causes proposed by other people, specifically things like prostate awareness month. I wanted to respond by asking, “what about those of us who do not have a prostate?” but I held my tongue. There seemed to be a huge disconnect between the heart I brought into the room and the response I had gotten to my question. I felt like we weren’t communicating; I was being told whatever had been rehearsed.

“Hi, I’m Brittany and I’ve received a degree in child psychology and I have a question for you regarding the S-CHIP bill. Our statistics show a large rate of children without healthcare with trends that show it to be increasing. Jeff Sessions voted against the S-CHIP bill which would give healthcare to impoverished children and I would like to know why.”

We were told to remember a few things. We were told to remember that sometimes, in the statistics regarding children without healthcare, children were counted who were transitioning between one healthcare provider to another. We were also reminded that sometimes children choose not to have healthcare. I felt like we weren’t communicating; I was being told whatever legislators said to themselves when the ache of humanity kept them awake at night.

It shocked me to see the different perspectives and hearts brought forth through the example of Christ House as well as the meeting with our state senators workers. In one case, where there was a call, there is now an answer. In the other, where there was a question, there is now still a question.

But my questions have now moved from my mouth to my mind, heart, and soul. Now that I am back in my college city, with my daily schedule back in action, I won’t try to tell you that my entire life has shifted. I have yet to sell all my possessions and give them to the poor. I still buy things I don’t need. I am not innocent here. The change occurred when the statistics I’d always heard stood before me in a hospital room, bandaged across the forehead, feeling the comfort of a roof, a bed, and food that was long overdue. It’s easy for me to throw away a pamphlet, it’s hard for me to walk past a person that I’ve looked in the eyes and forget that they exist.

The change occurred when I walked up to Union Station and saw a man sitting on the street with a sign that said “Homeless U.S. Veteran, Please Help” and a paper cup. Only a week previous I would have passed by, reciting what I tell myself when the ache keeps me awake at night – “He just would have spent it on drugs, anyway.” But that day, I gave the cash I had.

The change will continue to occur. Ideally, it will churn in my heart until I’ve written numerous letters to my senators voicing my concern, I’ve visited countless soup kitchens to meet needs, I’ve tithed appropriately so that my spiritual community can meet needs, and I’ve stooped in front of a many man with a paper cup and emptied my cash.

I don’t have the arrogance to tell you that I’m going to be the next Mother Theresa; I’m not disillusioned enough to tell you that I’ve wholly quit compartmentalizing my spirituality so that it extends only to where I feel comfortable. I can only tell you that last week, statistics took on a human form, and when I was stared in the face, I recognized them for what they were – reality.

washington, dc.

i am about to hop in a car and embark upon on epic journey to washington d.c. 14-20 hours in a car. gag.

be thinking of me, praying for our safe travels, and especially that our hearts would be burdened with what we learn about health care and that we would not be spectators in the competition between government and oppressed citizens, but that we would compete.

i pray that i will always be an activist.

oh and don't expect any blogs from me until afterward. then, i will blog about the entire endeavor.

blessings to you all this week and weekend!

strange tragedy.

the other night as i walked up to the back door of my dorm, i saw the greenest grasshopper rested delicately on the door handle. i knew it must be on its haunches, ready to spring. the quick movements startle me and make me tense. i proceeded to let out an "eep!" and head to the other door of the dorm.

later that night, i entered the back door again and as i headed up the stairs to my second floor room, there perched my brightgreen nemesis. i froze, and backed down the stairs. as i opened the door to leave and go to the other door, he sprang! i screamed and dashed out of the dorm.

i was frustrated because i had to go out of my way twice, but it was worth it to get away. i hated to see them jump sporadically the way they tend to do.

i walked into that same door today and something caught my eye.

it was a strange sort of justice to see Brightgreen lying dead on the floor.
the sort of justice that didn't feel just at all.

my hate for my ethnocentrism is growing.

lately i am being ripped from the sad, sad box i've lived in for a ridiculous amount of my life. it's happened in multiple ways. i'd like to write this out, so that maybe someone else can be ripped from their own box.

for my women's lit class, we were assigned to read the 2007 nobel prize acceptance speech for doris lessing. i cannot tell you how thankful i am that dr. priya menon assigned this to us. in her acceptance speech, lessing didn't talk about herself, her accomplishments, or her immediate desires. she spoke about the desires of others. she spoke about the people of zimbabwe, who hunger for books. yes, they hunger for food, they live in povery, but still, a hunger remains for books. as i read about this hunger for books that these starving children had, i was stunned. and ashamed to even say i was stunned. i imagined if i were starving, i wouldn't be concerned with books.

but do you know why i imagined that? because i've never known a life without food, or a life without books. i am far more blessed than i realize and reading her acceptance speech reminds of that, in a beautifully humbling way. she speaks of men who learned to read from jam jars. i remember as a child, i first started learning to read by trying to read signs to my mother in the car, or her first reading signs we passed to me, and me repeating. but then, as i got older, i got books. i grew up in a home that was covered in books. right now, i have so many picky likes and dislikes within literature and i am almost ashamed of that too. maybe i just need to be thankful i have books at all.

moving on, also in women's lit class, we are currently reading and discussing the book the god of small things, which has also had an impact on me. it's an amazing novel, but i'd like to speak more specifically to the issue of how we perceive places and how they really are. the novel is set in india, kerala to be exact, and my teacher is native to that land. as we read, she tends to express to us what the place is like, from the perspective of a native.

today she told us something very very interesting to me -- kerala has a 100% literacy rate. i immediately was, again, surprised. stunned, i could say again. our nation is given these videos of children starving to death from "india" and we assume that these people live in a third-world slum that is horrible for them. while many areas may not offer their residents wealth that they need, kerala has something that a sad amount of americans don't have, and that's literacy.

lastly, a documentary that i watched twice last week has had a wonderful impact on me. the documentary is titled traces of the trade and it follows a family who can trace their lineage back to dewolf, the largest slave owner in the united states. the family members get together, some meeting for the first time, to go on a pilgrimage of sorts that takes them to bristol, where dewolf lived, to guyana, where dewolf bought slaves, then to cuba, where dewolf had slaves living and working for him. throughout the film, the family has to come to terms with the background that their family has and the shocking things that their ancestor did that gave them wealth. though the documentary notes that the family members do not benefit directly from dewolf, they must realize that having that family name has brought them large amounts of wealth, and that the ancestors of the slaves that dewolf owned are still, today, living in poverty, or at least in hard circumstances.

the documentary basically touches on the truth of white privelege and knocks down the attitude that "slavery happened years ago and doesn't really mean much today." i am thankful for watching it, because i grew up in montgomery, in a largely racist home. it's taken a lot for me to shed this attitude, but i believe i am finally working towards it, and this documentary helped. i truly suggest it.

so what now? i guess realization of my ignorance is the first step, a step i'm taking. i'm thankful that in women's lit we are studying a variety of cultures, which is broadening my understanding of our world. i hope to study post-colonialism, so that maybe studying that will further open my eyes to culture the world over and the negative effects that have resulted from many things. it's important for me to know the injustices that have occurred in ages past, so that i can hopefully be somewhat of an activist now.

in our judgment of other places, we need to be ashamed. myself first and foremost. we need to learn about places before our mouths hang open in shock when we realize that a place that isn't the united states has priorities we should fervently envy. we desperately need to realize that the united states is just another part of big, vast, beautiful world, instead of falsely believing that we are the beauty of the world in its entirety.

Matthew 21:23-32

so, today at 4 i preached a sermon at the troy wesley foundation's ecumenical gathering called CHURCH. i figured i would post it. as a disclaimer, i'd like to mention that throughout the week i had a few ideas that i wanted to express in my sermon today (though thankfully i had not written it out) and many of those thoughts were in father jeff's sermon at st. mark's episcopal church. due to this, i shifted gears and wrote something rather different in regards to the text. i don't know if many would interpret it from this perspective, so be forewarned that it may seem a little strange.

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After looking at today's gospel text, I think plenty of people have the tendency to use this to attack the chief priests and elders. While I think this exchange between them and Jesus does leave a sting, or maybe warrants someone saying "BURN" at the end of it, we have to remember that in reading it, we should humble ourselves so as not to believe we are above the chief priests and elders in our understanding of God. (Note: "Burn" in the "you just got told" way, not as a way of saying "burn in hell." The inflection of my voice made this obvious, but to a reader, it may not be.)

Jesus asks the chief priests and elders a stumper, a question that leaves them arguing for an answer. The question Jesus asks is, "Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?" They argue, noting, "If we say 'from heaven' he will say to us, 'why then did you not believe him?' but if we say 'of human origin' we are afraid of the crowd; for they all regard John as a prophet." So, they answered Jesus, "We do not know."

This exchange is important. When put in a tricky situation, the chief priests and elders don't want to be wrong, so they argue. They try their best to come up with an answer that proves everyone wrong and themselves right, but see flaws in all of their arguments. Finally, in what had to be incredibly humbling to the chief priests and elders, they answer: "We do not know."

I think we can learn a lot from the chief priests and elders, a lesson in reminding us of how we often handle problems ourselves. We disagree with other people in the Body of Christ and so we argue. We try to come up with a way to be right, and prove others wrong. Sometimes we find flaws in our arguments, so maybe we proof-text to make our opinions more "right." Or, maybe we want to say something, but are afraid of the crowd. Maybe the crowd regards one view correctly, so in fear, we hold our tongue. We may even hold our tongue when it comes to something serious. Maybe when we have the opportunity to fight against social injustice, we look to the crowd and see that they have a different agenda. So we stay silent.

But then, we have to come to one realization. After all of our banter, our arguing, our searching, and our fighting for our huge desire to be right, one thing hits us -- "We do not know." We have to say it. We do not know. There are plenty of times we are asked spiritual questions that are a mystery. We even proclaim and celebrate the mystery of faith. Why then to we often push mystery away in search of answers? We seek to be above others in our understanding of things, creating our own sort of intellectual hierarchy. I believe we are all guilty of that.

Though it probably isn't the most preached message on this text, I would encourage you to think of how often you are a chief priest or elder. I've certainly relaized how often I play that role and arrogantly put myself into theological exchanges that I pray result in me being right and my adversary being wrong. It is a sad state that humanity is in, with it's dislike for humility. It was present in the attitudes of the chief priests and elders, and still exists today in myself and others.

And how does Jesus respond to this attitude? He reminds us that the tax collectors and prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of those with that attitude. Maybe we are not rewarded for the theological debates we win, but the times in which we humble ourselves before God and finally, and plainly say, "We do not know."

reflections.

i've had a rough day, and wanted to reflect. not everything written here is bad.

-- almost everything today has gotten on my nerves. this hasn't ended yet. lots of things have made me irritable, and even things that are silly. i don't know why. most people have done something to annoy me. i'm just not in the mood to always crack jokes like normal. sometimes i can, then other times people crack jokes with me and they just aren't funny at all. it's been a strange, strange day.

-- i've been busy since i woke up. i had class 10 am to 12:00, small lunch break, work from 1-2, class from 2-3, work 3-4, work meeting 4-5. you know what i almost forgot out of that wednesday schedule? class from 2-3. i realized at almost 2 and had to run back to my dorm then to class. the only good news? it seems my classmates like my story titled "the shipmaker."

-- today i got an e-mail from jordan green, editor-in-chief of burnside writers collective, and it seems they're looking for more hardcore writers. i'm exhilarated and sincerely hoping i get to work with burnside as a more constant writer.

-- i slept too late this afternoon and didn't make it to wesley bible study.

-- i don't have a lot of homework, but what i have, i don't want to do.

-- the weather is still beautiful, with crisp clean air that i love. i just hope it progresses down this cool path some more. :)

-- i'm looking forward to funbookfriday which will consist of john fannin giving me lots of books, i think. maybe? just the possibility of new books makes me happy.

-- i wish i had something of worth to talk about. i want to write, but feel drained of intellectual abilities.

"The Koz"

i'm submitting this for my non-fiction class tomorrow. major props to john nobles and ryan fucking charlton (yea, i said it) for their part in this memory. :)

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This August I enjoyed the excitement of seeing one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Mark Kozelek. Third only to Sam Beam of Iron&Wine and Ray Lamontagne in my list of favorite musicians, over the past year I had grown to love Kozelek's music and his distinct, melancholy sound. His lyrics are exquisite, and his voice strikes me as being a mixture of yearning and regret. Mark, affectionally referred to by my friend Ryan and I as "The Koz," was playing a show in Birmingham, of all places, which was very accessible and a must see. Ryan and I were dead set on attending and I was happy to find out his roommate, John, was going too. My only concern was the venue. A barbecue festival at Sloss Furnace? Barbecue festivals sounded like all out hick-fests and I'd only heard of Sloss Furnace as being epic in regards to its haunted house every October. I knew Mark deserved an epic venue uncluttered with hicks.

The smell of barbecue was strong and caught nostrils whole blocks away from the actual festival. My friends and I had parked rather close, but I knew that whether someone was going to the barbecue festival at Sloss Furnace or not, the smell had permeated the area.

"This smoky barbecue smell is going to be stuck in my hair forever."
It was a concern of mine, with my thick brunette hair that tends to trap smells and hold them. I looked pretty that night. My skinny jeans, black tube top, gray knit hat, and perfectly straightened hair. Straightened hair that now reeked of barbecue.

We meandered up to the entrance of the festival, when right as we went to buy tickets, what looked to be a father with his family who were leaving caught us off guard.

"Hey, are you entering tonight for the first time?"
"Uhh, yeah, we--"
"These are weekend passes. We don't need them anymore if you want them."

The man handed me two tickets and went on. I looked at Ryan, he looked at me, there was a mutual shrug, and we set off for the ticket collection area. John went to buy a ticket, which we had promised to split three ways in cost.

"Hmmm, there seems to be something wrong with the tickets, one second please," said the woman, as her brow wrinkled and she looked at the computer like a child who had just misheard her and not done what she asked.

I looked at Ryan with a face that said, "Oh look, these tickets don't work, how nice." As a reflex, my face flushed and I just started laughing.

"Ma'am, where did you get these tickets?"

I looked at Ryan, subconsciously trying to throw him under the bus by making him reply. In the wake of his silence I finally replied, "Someone handed them to me as they left."

“Oh, okay, well these have already been used for tonight, sorry."

As we walked away, I had one thing to say to Ryan: "I bet those people think we're total douche bags."

"Sorry John, everyone buys their own ticket."

We laughed and went to buy our real tickets. Tickets that would work.

"Hey, I'm back!" I said to the woman when I returned.

She laughed and we got our ticket stubs and went on in.

We walked purposefully, to try to find the main stage, yet at the same time probably looked really lost, because we kind of were. Holding our festival map like a paper compass, we found the main stage and surveyed the area. I first noticed how small and intimate it seemed. The ground we were standing on sloped down to a stage, which isn't complete with the almost kaleidoscope assortment of colors from lights. There were chairs set up, but most people seemed to just be standing around, or already locked in to their fold out chairs they brought themselves.

At the main stage, cigarette smoke overpowered barbecue smoke and I preferred it. Something about cigarette smoke made me nostalgic, whether it took me back to memories of live music, or sitting outside of coffee shops and talking about philosophy with some of my closest high school friends. Though I didn't smoke myself, the smell reminded me of good times, chill times.

I realized that I could most likely see Mark Kozelek play each and every song with my own two eyes. This was new for me. I often listened to live music, but rarely saw musicians play live music. It is a disadvantage to being 4'11". The slope of the ground, mixed with the size of the stage and crowd resulted in concert environment perfection for me.

Mark walked out onto the stage, and honestly, I knew it was The Koz based solely on his holding a guitar and waving awkwardly at the crowd. I'd never seen the man before, but I assumed that since he was sitting in the spotlight and center of the stage, he must be who I had paid to see.

Mark Kozelek is an awkward character. He spoke in almost short phrases, quickly I would say. He rarely seemed to be looking out, speaking almost as much to his shoes as those of us watching him. For some reason, his frazzled nature didn't surprise me. Depressing indie folk musicians rarely have a stand up comedian countenance. Something about their everyday attitude speaks of the songs they write. I imagine you can tell by speaking to them that they have, in fact, lived every hurt they've sung.

And so, Mark sang..

Cassius Clay was hated more than Sunny Liston....

He started off the set with "Glenn Tipton," which happens to be the first song of his recent album Ghosts of the Great Highway. When the song ended, I naturally expected "Carry Me Ohio" to follow, as it was the second song on the album, and my personal favorite. I'm pretty sure musicians rarely, if ever, play a set list that is their exact album list, but something about hearing the end of "Glenn Tipton" reminded me of listening to the whole album and left me expecting the next song.

Still, I was certain that when the night was over, I would hear "Carry Me, Ohio." The Koz had to play that song. It was my favorite. At one point in the night, I even heard a guy yell the song title out, a drunken request on his part. Mark would totally play that song.

False.

Of all the songs he played, he didn't play it. I can truthfully say that was the only downside of the night.

There is something about live music that exhilarates me. I am a writer at heart, but music has always been that unattainable love. I know it will never be a skill of mine but it still captures me. That might be why it captures me -- I can’t do it myself. I've always had friends that are musicians, some for fun, some signed on record labels. Many have succeeded, some have failed, and I've witnessed both end results. I walk around campus, or my neighborhood, with an iPod shoved into my ears, blocking out what's around me. I enjoy seeing a white-cloud sky and hearing a soft indie folk song in my ears. I like to watch someone sing a song they’ve written and hear their life experiences in the tone of their voice and the images they paint with their sound. When I listen to music, I feel like I’m invited into the dark crevasses of a stranger’s life, so that they don’t have to be such a stranger anymore.

And that is a little bit of what I felt that night. I felt like I was sitting in a beautiful haze composed of the emotion behind a man and a guitar, mixed with smoke and friendship.

community.

my friend, joseph mathews, asked me to write a reflection on community to be used in the united methodist church's program B1 (which works through, i do believe, another program called the advance). this is what i wrote.

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Community. Whether a person finds it in their household, their campus, their family, or in the breaking of bread with perfect strangers, there seems to be an innate desire for it. The soul and body together seem to yearn for other souls, and other bodies, and experience relational disconnect when it can't be found.

Throughout my spiritual journey, I have encountered a variety of different Christian communities, or simply social and non-religious communities, that have shaped my perception of people and my understanding of love. A recurring issue that I found to be a setback in Christian communities was the immediate reaction of leaving something if it didn't appeal to the person in its entirety. Don't agree with what someone said to you one Sunday? Leave the church. Think the organization should do a different sort of fundraiser than the one they're doing? Leave the organization. Wish you friend would agree with you on that one issue you disagree on? Leave the friendship. In the name of preserving a righteous community, leave the community. This is the attitude I've found commonly, and embraced at times myself, that I feel rips communities apart.

In non-religious communities that I took part in, things were vastly different. It seemed as if everyone knew that they would come together, have different opinions on things, fight them out at times, but then still meet together again in a few days to do the same thing. Sure, there were relational issues that came about, sometimes friends would part, but it was different. It was more merciful, and dare I say it, often more seasoned with grace. People didn't get together with a group in the hope that, when all was said and done, they would all believe the exact same thing and approach the world as if they were all of the same perspective.

In community, a single heartbeat ripples through a beautiful collection of diversity. The Body of Christ should function with this attitude. When one eye in the body of Christ is hurt, or one foot in the body of Christ cannot function, in some way, shape, or form, the entire Body of Christ may lose its vision, or sit when it should stand. It is because of this relational connection that the community of the Body of Christ has that should call each and every member to hold dear to the First and Second Commandments. We must love God, we must love our neighbors as ourselves. When we do, that love heals the eyes and heals the feet and results in a divine vision and a community that stands.

the shipmaker.

this is the first section of the short story i am working on. after this part, i put a page breakish sort of thing, and i've started working on the next section a bit but will not share it just yet. i've worked more on what i wrote before. i tried to put it in a better format that is hopefully easier to understand. i hope it does a good job building character and setting the stage for everything else. feel free to comment with thoughts. :)

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Walter Hinkle lived a simple life. Every morning the sun crept through his drapes and rested on his eyelids, bringing him out of a light sleep. Walter never fell into a deep sleep; any ray of light, or creak in the house, could wake him. He needed complete darkness and eerie silence to drift off. When he woke, he followed his routine.

"Walter, what do you want today?"
"Usual, you know that."
"I know, but I can't get a word-a conversation outta you if I don't ask you a question or something."

He didn't reply.

Walter walked into the Town Square Coffee every morning around 8:30. He functioned more robotically than humanly until he got black coffee in his system. Even with the coffee, to many, he still acted robotic.

"Tell me something you're gonna do today, Walter."
"I'm going to wait until you give me my coffee, then I am going to walk out of the door. I'm going to look for supplies I need, go home, work on something for a while, then eat and sleep and breathe."
"How fun! What you working on?"
"What I work on everyday."

Walter couldn't stand Martha, the barista at Town Square. She was in her mid sixties he assumed, and she fit the mold of the sort of woman that was in her mid sixties and lived in Newberry. She was rotund, the dimples of her face could not be avoided, her glasses sat the tip of her nose, and she talked too much. She tried to hide graying hair that was obviously still graying. She seemed to him like the sort of woman who, if she asked a personal question and someone answered it, would tell everyone else who came to Town Square that day.

The reason she always had to pull teeth to get conversation out of him was because he always avoided her. He didn't mind people, he just minded people who asked questions that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

Walter lived off a disability check that he started getting years ago. He found out at the age of 39 that he had severe carpal tunnel, was developing bone crippling arthritis, and that he could not continue work. He had built houses, starting at the age of 18, right out of high school. He'd never wanted to go to college. Walter's dad worked with his hands, Walter worked with his hands.

"Son, whatever you do with your life, do something you can look at later. Something you can put on a shelf or take a picture of to remind you that you did it."

He thought a lot, but never felt like thinking alone should earn a man his keep. He needed to have a craft. His father made that clear. He needed to feel like he could hold something for long enough and it become beautiful. When he realized he could no longer hold two-by-fours for as long as it took to watch them become beautiful homes, he needed another craft.

He started to make small ships. He collected twigs from his yard and larger branches that fell from the oak by the tool shed. These he carved into being the hull of the boat. He looked at thrift stores and went to yard sales and bought old, yellow paged books that he ripped apart and used to make the sails. Every sail covered in words from books he'd never read. Every now and then he'd do a double take on the sail of a ship, seeing words he recognized.

"... nature, red in tooth and.."

Walter wasn't a reader, so he never understood how he would see words he knew. Later he'd notice a book of sonnets by Shakespeare, or early poetry by Tennyson sitting in the trash, gutted of pages, and it would make sense to him. Everyone quoted them, he couldn't avoid knowing their works. He never looked at the titles of books before he tore into them. It didn't matter if he threw away Emerson or a cheap Harlequin novel, they all made similar kachunk sounds when they hit the sides of the trash can.

"You don't even read Shakespeare?"
"What the hell does a carpenter do with a play by Shakespeare?"
"At least you knew he wrote plays."
"Just because I don't read doesn't mean I'm an idiot."
"Oh, you're still an idiot."
"And you're just an educated son of a bitch."

Robert and Walter had been friends since pre-school at Newberry Baptist. In Newberry, that's how people got to be close friends, they grew up together. The only difference is that, for close to eight years, Robert left. He moved away after high school, went to college, put his thoughts on paper, and returned to Newberry with a new level of pretentious conversation that Walter never could have imagined in Robert. Walter liked the new, educated Robert. Walter tended to be perceived by outsiders as an asshole because he wasn't into small talk and had no sense of humor. Robert was close to being the same way, only his attitude stemmed from his undergrad degree in English, masters degree in philosophy, and doctorate in liberal arts. Robert could deal with Walter, and that's what kept them friends.

One thing Walter couldn't grasp was why Robert returned to Newberry. He moved back and told Walter he was doing so because he wanted to "get a feel for Newberry so that he could write an autobiography that was true to self." Walter thought it was a bullshit way of saying that even after three degrees, he still got scared sometimes and wanted to feel comfortable.

"Comfortable? What does that even mean, Walter?"
"You know what it means. You want to feel like you don't have to fear something."
"Everyone fears, you can't avoid that. I wouldn't move somewhere to try to avoid the inevitable. Not to mention, I have an awful lot of comfort. Her name is Pam."
"Right, right, a wife. I guess another warm side of the bed is what some people need."

Walter never married, and felt himself to be a hollow man. He didn't blame himself; he didn't cry himself to sleep. Long ago, after his one bout with love, he had chalked it up to providence and left it at that. He thought too much, his bones were breaking underneath him, and he had little sense of humor. These were truths of his being he could not shake. There came a day when he decided that he was better off alone, because the only graces he had ever offered, he offered to himself. He had no reason to be concerned with romance anymore. He concerned himself with the work of his hands. He had accepted and made the most of this life, a life he was content with.

"You're going to die alone, and you're going to regret it, Walter."
"Says the man with the wife, of course."
"I'm just saying, I think it could brighten up your days a bit."
"And I'm just saying, I'm not Robert Allen."
"You sure as hell aren't."
"Robert, do you think dreams mean anything? And don't feed me that Freudian theory bullshit either. I'm asking you."
"Do you mean dreams when you go to sleep, or goals you have?"
"Seep dreams."
"I think it depends. I guess it could mean something, but other times I imagine it's just random stuff. Or, maybe it's random to you because you are having issues with identity that are so subconscious you don't realize they're issues you're having."
"I said no theory bullshit."

Walter had an attachment to a sort of recurring dream he had. There was a unifying factor, but then differences also. The unifying factor was a woman with changing hair. He thought he recognized her, because of how he felt when he woke up, but wasn't sure. Throughout the dream her hair would shift from being brunette, to auburn, and sometimes to black. He never remembered any distinct facial features, only her hair, and he knew it was always changing. He would always feel as if he'd seen a different woman, but in the dream and after, he knew she had to be the same.

The dream would include snippits of him being in a forest, cutting down a tree, then another snippit of a tree in a barren field, set on fire. Other times he would be on a ship, with the sail of the ship covered in words that appeared and ran across the sails as if someone was writing on it as he journeyed the sea. He never remembered what the words said. He figured he had no attachment to anything in the dream, but instead, just to the feeling he had when he thought about it.

you have no idea how much i am writing this in random chunks.

shipmaker -- another chunk.

---

Walter had an attachment to a sort of recurring dream he had. There was a unifying factor, but then differences also. The unifying factor was a woman with changing hair. Throughout the dream her hair would shift from being brunette, to auburn, and sometimes to black. He never remembered any distinct facial features, only her hair, and he knew it was always changing. He would always feel as if he'd seen a different woman, but in the dream and after, he knew to recognize it as the same woman. The dream would include snippits of him being in a forest, cutting down a tree, then another snippit of a tree in a barren field, set on fire. Other times he would be on a ship, with the sail of the ship covered in words that appeared and ran across the sails as if someone was writing on it as he journeyed across the sea. He never remembered what the words said. He had no attachment to anything in the dream, but instead, to the feeling he had when he thought about it. It wasn't as if any image in the dream struck him, or made him want to decipher it. He just liked the thought of having a dream and remembering it.

my apologies!

i'd like to apologize to anyone who watches my blog carefully (or watches at all, really) because i've been busy lately and haven't had time to find a computer and write much.

BUT last night i ordered a macbook, meaning SOON i'll have a personal computer again and can blog as i like! wahoo!

until then, best wishes to all.

in case you're tracking my publications..

http://epfnational.org/dfc/newsdetail_2/28

weird, right?
my face is on the front page.
<333 epf.

shipmaker.

i started working on this tonight, based on an idea i thought about when i was trying to help a friend write a poem. i'm going to see how far i can take this, and see if i can even turn it in for a creative writing contest. i'm concerned with the fact that i am writing as a woman, with a male character. i just want to make sure i appropriately capture the male psyche. any thoughts are appreciated. but do note, i am NOT done with this. this is just the first 4 paragraphs of what will definitely be a longer work. this is basically alllll exposition....

--------------

Walter Hinkle lived a simple life. Every morning the sun crept through his drapes and rested on his eyelids, bringing him out of a light sleep. Walter never fell into a deep sleep; any ray of light, or creak in the house, could wake him. He needed complete darkness and eerie silence to drift off.

Walter lived off a disability check that he started getting years ago. He found out at the age of 39 that he had severe carpal tunnel, was developing bone crippling arthritis, and that he could not continue work. He had built houses, starting at the age of 18, right out of high school. He'd never wanted to go to college. Walter's dad worked with his hands, Walter worked with his hands. He thought a lot, but never felt like thinking alone should earn a man his keep. He needed to have a craft. He needed to feel like he could hold something for long enough and it become beautiful. When he realized he could no longer hold two-by-fours for as long as it took to watch them become beautiful homes, he needed another craft.

Walter never married, and felt himself to be a hollow man. He didn't blame himself; he didn't cry himself to sleep. Long ago he had chalked it up to providence and left it at that. He thought too much, his bones were breaking underneath him, and he had little sense of humor. These were truths of his being he could not shake. There came a day when he decided that he was better off alone, because the only graces he had ever offered, he offered to himself. He had no reason to be concerned with romance. He concerned himself with the work of his hands. He had accepted and made the most of this life, a life he was content with.

He started to make small ships. He collected twigs from his yard and larger branches that fell from the oak by the tool shed. These he carved into being the hull of the boat. He looked at thrift stores and bought old, yellow paged books that he ripped apart and used to make the sails. Every sail he covered in words from books he'd never read. Every now and then he'd do a double take on the sail of a ship, seeing words he recognized. Walter wasn't a reader, so he never understood how he would see words he knew. Later he'd notice a book of sonnets by Shakespeare, or early poetry by Tennyson sitting in the trash, gutted of pages, and it would make sense to him. Everyone quoted them, he couldn't avoid knowing their works. He never looked at the titles of books before he tore into them.

strange thought today.

so today, whilst sitting in old english class, i got to thinking about something. okay, so i was sitting down and i looked up to see a girl walking back into the classroom that was definitely already seated at the start of the class. i always look towards the front of the classroom, where the teacher lectures, and i sit by the door, so i am positive that this girl HAD to walk right past me to leave the classroom.

so here's what i was wondering -- what's the disconnect between what we see, and what we acknowledge we see? how is it that a girl can walk right in front of me and me obviously HAVE to see it, yet me take no notice, but then take notice of her return?

i know this is a really weird thought, but if i wasn't an english major i'd be a psychology major, so i think about these things.

you may know me.

i think i am turning this in as "non-fiction poetry" for my tuesday non-fiction class. here's hoping this actually counts. worth a shot, right? it isn't really a good poem, but i wrote it today, so i am sharing.

----

i get a bottomofmystomach squirm
when someone says an old
flame's name, or asks me
what i believe.

i get to crying sometimes,
a lump in my throat, as a
collection of all the things
i can't be.

i get a heat in my face,
that surges from my ears,
when i hear that i'm ugly
or not enough.

i feel a bright red blush
appear on the apples of my
cheeks, if you tell a story i
want to forget.

i am a rush of feeling
screaming from my very face
and if you know what
my faces mean, you may
know me.

this i believe.

i believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
i believe God loves those who are created by God unconditionally.
i believe that all are given the opportunity to be adopted into righteousness.
i believe in an all inclusive Church.

i am a heterosexual gay rights activist.
i am not ashamed of that.

i will love unconditionally, in the Christ-like agape way.
i will fight for justice on behalf of those who are oppressed.
i will embrace the notion that ALL means ALL.
i will extend my love past those that are like me.
i will love all races, genders, and sexualities.
i will not oppress those that are the "other."
i will not use the Bible to do violence to others.
i will love the unloved.
i will do everything in my power to do the work of the First and Second commandments.

... with God's help.

i have the tendency to fail.
i have the ability to pick myself up and fight again.

if i am silent when someone needs to speak,
if i sit down when i need to stand up,
if i am fearful when i need to be courageous --

forgive me, Lord.

this i believe.

manna from heaven.

For the duration of the past summer, I fasted from beef, chicken, and pork. During the year, I had watched multiple friends of mine fast from the same foods for Lent, but I was non-denominational, so Lent was rather foreign to me. I made zero religious commitments to give anything up. In speaking to my friend Joseph who gave up meat for Lent, he shared with me a quote that meant something. He shared the words of Pythagorus who wrote, "For as long as man continues to be the ruthless destroyer of lower living beings, he will never know health or peace. For as long as men massacre animals, they will kill each other. Indeed he who sows the seeds of murder and pain cannot reap joy and love." I am somewhat of a radical believer in being pro-life and nonviolent, so these words struck a chord. Should I be a radical writer of nonviolent and pro-life arguments, or actually give something up for it?

So, I gave something up. I gave up beef, chicken, and pork. "It can't be that bad," I told myself. "There's still pasta.. and rice.. and bread! I love bread. And then there are other kinds of pasta.. and flavored rice.. and, well, bread!"

And truthfully, it really was not that bad. Sure, bread, pasta, and rice got old.. but vegetables remained high on the list of foods I consumed. Not to mention, in case you weren't aware, there is no meat in chocolate OR sweet tea. The only place I can imagine there being meat in that would be on Iron Chef America, and there's no way I would have been eating that nicely. I lived in an apartment for the summer rather than being on campus, so I was able to cook my own food and eat just fine. It was not too difficult to abstain from those foods, simply because the ONLY food in the house (for the most part) happened to be food I could eat. But then, I went to Montgomery...

LeAnn is an old friend from high school days and when I went back to Montgomery for a weekend to see family, she and I got together to hang out. We stopped by Sonic to grab slushies before we walked around Eastchase, when I had my first encounter with breaking the fast I had committed to. LeAnn had ordered chicken fingers with her slushie, and without thinking, she had offered to share them with me, since neither of us were hungry enough to eat the whole meal. Three nuggets in, it hit me.

"Those were not BREAD nuggets, nor RICE nuggets, nor PASTA nuggets.. those were CHICKEN nuggets!" I yelled at myself.

Somehow, I had forgotten. Up until then I had cooked all of my food, so I knew I wasn't eating any meat. In this new environment, it had COMPLETELY slipped my mind. I literally felt horrible. It sounds silly, but I did. I had exclaimed out loud as soon as I realized it, and LeAnn watched my face flush, then drain in color. It sounds like I'm overreacting, and I probably was, but making vows to do anything is a big deal to me. Do I think God hates me for three chicken nuggets? Absolutely not. I actually think God was probably laughing at me for being an idiot, which is totally justifiable, because I later laughed at myself also. But, I had made a decision to fast from beef, chicken, and pork to reflect on peace and non-violence, and I had broken it, so yeah, I felt bad.

But, I got over my one mistake and continued with my fast. More mistakes ensued. I ate a soup that had beef fat in it, I ate ramen which uses chicken fat in its sauce packet, and there were a few other broths that I thought were free from animal products, but weren't.

I don't really think it was that big of a deal though, simply because of what still came out of my fast. Consistently through the summer people would ask me why I was fasting, or sort of look at me like I'm strange for giving up something as epically important as meat. OR they would assume that starting in late May, I had taken a job working with PETA. After being questioned again and again about why I was doing any fast at all, I began to get concerned that I was fasting for nothing.

"Why are you fasting? What has changed about you? If you're just giving something up to give something up, why does it matter? Are you just fasting to make yourself look good and all 'deeply religious' like? What does not eating meat have to do with promoting peace, anyway?" all happened to be questions that were either asked of me, or questions I asked myself.

Even if the fast wasn't doing anything, I couldn't dip out now. Then I would be an irreligious wuss who started a fast, couldn't hack it, and looked directly into the sky at God and said "My bad." Rather than feeling like that, I had to try to find answers. Naturally, the answers came to me through prayer, but not how you may think. A few years ago it dawned on me that I pretty much never prayed for anyone who was starving. One huge spiritual question that has always baffled me is why people are starving when Christianity believes the world has a provisional God. Since I can't really know the answer to that question, I just try to do my part in assisting in help efforts and praying that God, or anyone, will assist those that are starving and feed the hungry. When I realized I rarely do this, or even pray about it, I made it a point to pray for those who are starving when I bless my own food. One night though this summer, my prayer time went a little differently. It did not end with an "Amen" and instead, became something I wrestled with for quite a while.

I thanked God for my food, naturally, and then prayed for those that were without, as usual. It then dawned on me that maybe there is more outside of "peace" than simply what I conceive of it. To me, I was pretty much at the point of my fast where I was OVER bread, rice, and pasta. Seriously, I had been eating it for months. It was gross, it all tasted the same, and I wanted a steak pronto. Or a burger, and NOT a Boca burger, because those were horrible. It was in that moment that I realized some people alive today would kill to eat a Boca burger, or pasta, or bread, or rice. It could literally serve as a four course meal of the highest grandeur in some areas.

Yes, there were frustrating days in my fast. I went to at least two barbecue's that involved me eating chips and dip the entire night while smelling chicken and ribs, I went out for chinese and couldn't get honey chicken, I had to order a veggie burger at Ruby Tuesday's that TRULY tasted like a dirt patty, and sometimes when I went out for Italian I had to request that they take out of the pasta dish everything that makes it amazing (read: chicken and bacon and such). Still, I think my fast this summer helped me realize that peace isn't the same for everyone. Peace for me may occur when I don't have to scramble to pay a bill, while peace to another may be eating a cup of rice. I am quick to complain, slow to realize my blessings. I wondered all summer what this fast could have to do with peace and non-violence, or how any of this would matter later, when I was back to Burger King and Outback. What does this have to do with maintaining peace?

I think the end result is that I am thankful, and I've realized that there is a peace that lies within thankfulness, too. When I pray and realize my rice, bread, and pasta are something, that they are sustenance still, I realize that I should be thankful. And when I am thankful, even if only for a moment, I have realized that I don't need to clamor for more. In that moment, I know that I am provided for, and that puts me at peace.

The truth is though, that peace should not be so still and quiet that it does not rouse my heart to do something for those that are not at peace, for those that are hungry, for those that are searching for something to be thankful for. This summer has encouraged me to promote peace and nonviolence through serving others in such a way that meets needs and helps sustain. Only in doing so can I help others reach the peace I've reached myself.

how God interacts.

i've been thinking a lot lately about deism and its relation to Christianity. i have some extended thoughts about that, which i can blog some other time, but for right now i want to voice a simple curiousity i have. the reason i bring up "deism" is simply because it is a belief in a god that does not interact with humanity after creation.

i have been entertaining the issue of how God interacts with humanity. i am often disconcerted when i hear people theorize that God has done something to someone else, or that God has "led" someone, or especially if i hear someone say they "know God's will for themselves." but, my disconcertion and my doubt about those ideas makes me feel blasphemous just the same. i know it is cynical of me, but i often feel very much like those opinions are spoken/written flippantly. truthfully, i could say that God "led" me to being a writer of theological books, but i feel the sensible thing to say is that i have a talent (writing) which i am passionate about that i am pursuing as a career. you can see the difference here in diction. i am not saying God has told me i have to be a writer, or that i basically sat on my rear waiting on God to send me an e-mail telling me what to do with my life. instead, i acknowledge the gifts i have and because of my devotion to my faith i've decided to apply them towards the first and second commandment.

i know that i believe that Divinity interacted with humanity in the Christ event, what with divinity taking on flesh and being in community with humankind. i also know that i believe the Holy Spirit exists as a way for humankind to communicate with God right now. the thing is though, i'm not sure that i believe the Holy Spirit does things the way most would believe.

i believe the Holy Spirit intercedes for us, and that in that, our small humanity can engage the vastness of God. i believe that in prayer and petition the Holy Sprit can impart peace upon those that call on the name of the Lord. i believe that within the hold of the Holy Spirit the transformative gospel written years before can still transform the world we know today.

my problem with other opinions about what the Trinity "does" is that they often focus around God doing things that i think are far outside of the nature (as i perceive it) of God. or, maybe i just don't have enough faith to believe that God works like that and i am at fault.

the thing is, i don't put miracles past God. truly i don't. but what if God's miracles are being accomplished solely through the willingness of humankind to love? i just.... i read verses in which Christ states that the kingdom of God (the Church, the Body, what have you) will do greater things than Jesus did, and i feel like when people say "oh well, God will take care of that, i needn't do anything" the Church can easily brush off the need to love other people, work for the human rights of others, feed the hungry, clothe the unclothed, medicate the sick, speak for the mute, create a vision for the blind. in putting everything off on God, the church in turn scapegoats God when things don't get done. in shoving away all responsibility to be Jesus in the world today, the first and second commandment are not accomplished.

i have a lot of thoughts on this topic and i am still in the process of figuring out how i feel. please excuse my confused honesty.

embracing powers higher than ourselves.

tomorrow i will be preaching at a youth rally at mt. zion united methodist church in andalusia, alabama. with my sermon written, i figured i would post it to my blog just to share. thoughts are, as always, welcomed.

-----

Embracing Powers Higher Than Ourselves

I look forward to this year more than any previous. Certainly, I am excited about graduation from college and all that that entails, but there is more held within this calendar year than whatever I have in my planner. And believe me, I have that planner with all the pockets, and sticky notes attached to it. Yes, I’m that girl. Apparently there was a sermon about not putting too much on your plate in college, and I slept through it. Furthermore, I must have missed the sermon that told me not to worry about things so much that you have ulcers, not to stay up until 3 am playing board games when you have a test the next day, and DEFINITELY not to go to Panama City Beach and back that same night the day before having your FIRST final ever in college. In retrospect, I probably should have slept less and listened more. As a graduating senior in college, I have been for AT LEAST three years trying to figure out who I am, not only as a person but as a person moving towards perfection in Christ.

Yes, for this calendar year I have planned a trip to Washington, DC.. a trip to New York City.. and a trip to Juarez, Mexico. Within these trips, in New York City I will visit potential grad schools that may shape me theologically in the coming years, as well as learn more about the health care crisis at forums in Washington, DC. I will even help build homes in Juarez, Mexico. OH, and how could I forget, I will probably spend entirely too much money on clothing in New York City as I’ve heard they have more than just a GAP and Target, try to stay alive in Washington DC, and avoid anything water based in Mexico. Yes, I believe these excursions will be life changing and full of experience that will season my faith with a deeper understanding of how people work, and how I work. Yes, I believe that through these experiences and all others I will learn how to better serve God and do the work of the Church. But, I see a bigger picture unfolding just the same.

As Christians we consistently ask, or should consistently ask, “how am I to do something that revolutionizes society through faith?” I believe we can accomplish this through embracing powers higher than ourselves. I believe we can accomplish this through attitudes seasoned with humility (and equally with reason) that touch and transform the conversations we have, the people we love, and the world we inhabit. To have an attitude seasoned with humility and reason we must cling to community, ever holding fast to those to the left and right of us, in front of us and behind us. Throwing aside differences and likenesses, we must realize how important we are to one other. We must be unafraid to love, and to love without prejudice, so that we may embody humility, and with that, leave an indelible mark on the world around us. After all, we are called to be Jesus in the world today, are we not?

Of course, with everything said on the topic of faith I say this -- easier said than done. And that is why we have the Church. That is why you have your community. That is why you can look around the room and see others listening, reading, marking, learning, and inwardly digesting beside you. We have the Church so that when what is said is easy, and what is being done is lacking, we have the encouragement to push through and have lives worthy of our calling. In this, we have lives that move towards perfection in such a way that leaves a trail, allowing others to revolutionize the world we have loved ourselves.

So, what advice do I give you? Listen. Sleep through nothing. With the people around you, the potential exists for change that is beyond what you can imagine, so listen to what they have to say. In community, we are given the opportunity to view the world through a new perspective, a bright new lens that could easily change the world we know through acts of compassion and humility. This brings me to my next piece of advice. LOVE. Love in such a way that is beautifully unafraid. Setting aside differences, live out the first and second commandments – Love God and Love People. If God is love, what reason could there possibly be to not do so? In listening to community and loving all that breathes, the work of the Church is being done. In doing these things, we are able to find our identity in the light of the great I AM.