(John implored the children so sweetly, so earnestly: Believe on Jesus, and love each other.)
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Saturday, September 20, 2014
If renaming a term would disarm its effect...
In June I left the state to study Linguistics. I came home on an intellectual and emotional high, knowing in only two weeks I would be heading out on another, three-week trip overseas. I think the immediacy of another trip created a suspension bridge tower: I didn't have time sink all the way down to earth in between.
On the trip, living presently in almost every moment created an effect I might call "child time": time standing almost still in the midst of absorbing new experiences! (Remember the first time or two you learned a birthday of yours was looming in the very near distance of, say, two or three weeks, and how absolutely far away that heralded date was?)
After only three weeks, I came home feeling I have been gone for ages. Two weeks at home was not enough to process through the summer. My summer at school is full of wonderful and important memories, but the trip I just took is a huge boulder, landed from outer space with an undramatic but juggernaut-like thump. So imagine a sunny path through the month of June, up and over the top of the summer, turning a little more golden in color near the end. Merging abruptly with the main highway in August, there was a short, fierce section of old highway, but I drove those two weeks with glee! And then Whee! up in the air and over the ocean for a September real-life version of a theme park high! And what fun! How many rides! How many thrills! So many thrills and then another day to start over again, and again, and again; not forgetting three days at different "water parks".....and then... a few days in the lounge and arcade.... and a few more small rides... and then, with a final series of loop-de-loops and tickle-bellies (the official name for the falling feeling you get when you're accelerating over the crest of a roller coaster mountain),,,,,
I was plopped back in my nest just like the little baby bird who went searching for his mother.
An untidy, neglected nest.
I was prepared for something called reverse culture shock. I knew it would try to surprise me, but I was ready for it! But I was wrong. I was prepared for people not to be interested in my stories. I was prepared for jet lag (or thought so, since I felt caught up on sleep quickly and returned to a normal sleep schedule quickly). I forgot to be prepared for people expecting me to be the same person. It hit me at work today as tiredness, a desire to cry, and a foggy self-deprecation and inability to assert myself disconnected me from the team today. As a team they were very kind to me, but communication was out the window at a time I needed to be communicating and leading.
So I crawled into bed when I got home and took up the sword in the exhausting dream world I've been traversing since getting home.
That's okay. I begin to feel better about the process. I thank the Lord for the mysterious, ingenious psycho-metabolism of dreaming, digesting life somehow into long-term understanding of experiences. Journaling will probably help too. Bless the Lord.
On the trip, living presently in almost every moment created an effect I might call "child time": time standing almost still in the midst of absorbing new experiences! (Remember the first time or two you learned a birthday of yours was looming in the very near distance of, say, two or three weeks, and how absolutely far away that heralded date was?)
After only three weeks, I came home feeling I have been gone for ages. Two weeks at home was not enough to process through the summer. My summer at school is full of wonderful and important memories, but the trip I just took is a huge boulder, landed from outer space with an undramatic but juggernaut-like thump. So imagine a sunny path through the month of June, up and over the top of the summer, turning a little more golden in color near the end. Merging abruptly with the main highway in August, there was a short, fierce section of old highway, but I drove those two weeks with glee! And then Whee! up in the air and over the ocean for a September real-life version of a theme park high! And what fun! How many rides! How many thrills! So many thrills and then another day to start over again, and again, and again; not forgetting three days at different "water parks".....and then... a few days in the lounge and arcade.... and a few more small rides... and then, with a final series of loop-de-loops and tickle-bellies (the official name for the falling feeling you get when you're accelerating over the crest of a roller coaster mountain),,,,,
I was plopped back in my nest just like the little baby bird who went searching for his mother.
An untidy, neglected nest.
I was prepared for something called reverse culture shock. I knew it would try to surprise me, but I was ready for it! But I was wrong. I was prepared for people not to be interested in my stories. I was prepared for jet lag (or thought so, since I felt caught up on sleep quickly and returned to a normal sleep schedule quickly). I forgot to be prepared for people expecting me to be the same person. It hit me at work today as tiredness, a desire to cry, and a foggy self-deprecation and inability to assert myself disconnected me from the team today. As a team they were very kind to me, but communication was out the window at a time I needed to be communicating and leading.
So I crawled into bed when I got home and took up the sword in the exhausting dream world I've been traversing since getting home.
That's okay. I begin to feel better about the process. I thank the Lord for the mysterious, ingenious psycho-metabolism of dreaming, digesting life somehow into long-term understanding of experiences. Journaling will probably help too. Bless the Lord.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Through Noise
Ethereal hints of music
crying out.
I stand on my doorstep as the music mingles with motors,
while the ghost of scents flutter in my face.
Into the filtered-sun comfort of a Sukkah
reached an anthem, warped around stone--strains colored green, a fabric, a colored noise, many threads.
and they were sosweetsosweet and odd
and poignant
stirring that spark of pain and love for something unknown
--for the unknown singer? no--
but the song is longing for something and when I hear it, I long too.
There must be a king leading the rebellion--
Let the arrow fly at random and find Ahab.
Free the captives.
A child is born--who shall care for it?
And born again--who shall care for it?
Oh, farther along--farther along--
(Music speaks and cries all along the Jordan River, headlights shining on a homeless road)
Lord, come soon!
(Hear our wordless cries in harmony!)
raise up the dry bones--
the man living in another frequency needs Your love to reach him--how?
Maybe a child could send him a Christmas letter.
Ah, the peace of harmonies that build securely on a foundation of golden stone.
Found.
crying out.
I stand on my doorstep as the music mingles with motors,
while the ghost of scents flutter in my face.
Deep currents--faces looking too familiar--
I am so small for a world so big.
The world seems so small and manageable
Until you cleave to the familiar again.
Simplicity; least-common factors.
It's never enough to go to bed when it's late,
so I wait until it's too late.
Into the filtered-sun comfort of a Sukkah
reached an anthem, warped around stone--strains colored green, a fabric, a colored noise, many threads.
and they were sosweetsosweet and odd
and poignant
stirring that spark of pain and love for something unknown
--for the unknown singer? no--
but the song is longing for something and when I hear it, I long too.
There must be a king leading the rebellion--
Let the arrow fly at random and find Ahab.
Free the captives.
A child is born--who shall care for it?
And born again--who shall care for it?
Oh, farther along--farther along--
(Music speaks and cries all along the Jordan River, headlights shining on a homeless road)
Lord, come soon!
(Hear our wordless cries in harmony!)
raise up the dry bones--
the man living in another frequency needs Your love to reach him--how?
Maybe a child could send him a Christmas letter.
Ah, the peace of harmonies that build securely on a foundation of golden stone.
Found.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)