It is a very sad moment in life when a twenty-five year old woman has a hard time sitting still for two hours. She fidgets, twirls her hair, rearranges the books on her desk a few times and finds any excuse to stand up and head to the bathroom - and at the end of two hours, she is left a heinous bitch from the unfamiliar exercise and the condition gets worse with the realization that very little studying was actually done.
What happened?
What happened to the six hour long school days, four hour long standardized tests, two hour long prayer meetings, or even hours of video games? What happened to the girl who would pick up a book and not look up until the sun sets and the words start blurring together on the page?
My life apparently occurs in 1 hour 45 minute intervals now. Anything less than that? Even better. An hour of tv. 30 minutes of facebook. 20 minutes of reading. Perhaps 15 minutes of the news. Sometimes all four at once. And of course, in the height of "multi-tasking", there lies the white noise of my ipod behind each and every activity. When has listening to music become a mere distraction instead of true appreciation - a small dish of pickles on a table laden with a myriad of what closely resembles a very disjointed meal of spanish tapas? Where the heck is my bowl of rice?
I refuse to label myself as ADD. I mean, who wants a medical condition? Labeling myself as clinically or chronically ADD just serves to demolish my margin of choice. I don't hear people who suck at running blame it on heart disease.
The fact remains though, that my attention span has become dangerously short. In studying Chinese, I've been trying to start up those engines in my brain again and the devastation of the discovery of my inability to focus has been incomparable with the tinge of idiocy I feel every time someone speaks to me in Chinese and gets this look on his/her face before realizing that as a matter of fact, I'm not from here.
There could have been many factors behind this - the computer/internet, too much alcohol, McDonald's burgers, Mad cow disease perhaps even PTSD - but it will get better with practice. I will be able to take those standardized tests again. You know, just something to look forward to. And what better practice is there than to have an intensive study of an unfamiliar language? I'm just glad that I don't have to lay on my side for over a year cooking my food over poop, although I'm pretty sure that I could focus on anything for long periods of time after that ordeal.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
purpose = happiness?
There is a very wise friend I have (who coincidently does not consider himself wise and is perhaps therefore more fun to be around) whom I love to quote. And as I've been walking around China the last week or so in a deep state of simple contentment, I've been thoughtfully chewing on a favorite quote by this friend of mine.
The first time I remember him saying it was when we were walking on a long, dusty red road to the local market in Yei, Sudan. We had another good three miles or so to go, so I thought it would be a great time to check up on how he's doing. We've just been to hell and back with extreme heat, bouts of malaria and other deadly illnesses and so far I haven't heard him complain - I wondered if he really was okay, or just needed a little prodding to talk. He said he was doing well and there was a note of sincerity in his voice, but I decided to press it further and asked if he was really fine after that month or two of hardship - and I still can't forget that moment when he gave me a slight smile and said, "you know, I figure that if I'm not happy here, I probably won't be happy anywhere else."
Such profound truth in such simplicity! So we walked on that day, covered in sweat and red dust from the road, malaria parasites dwelling in our livers and not much to our name than what the war-torn Sudanese have, but in perfect happiness that hollywood stars only dream of.
I honestly have it unbelievably good here in China. My apartment is amazing - a queen size bed, air conditioning, hot running water, no squatty potties, nice neighborhood, wireless internet, big tv/dvd player, etc.etc. My chinese lessons have been amazing and my teachers are quickly becoming friends, the Korean church I visited yesterday incredibly loving - and all this in one of the most beautiful, cleanest and safest cities in China.
I've been juxtaposing the two situations - one in Sudan and the other in China - on the way home today and realized something: Overall, there really hasn't been a time that I've been unhappy since my school in Salem in 2005. Of course there were ups and downs, hard times and good times, and many evenings when all I wanted was a potent glass of scotch, but there has been, is and will be such deep satisfaction in knowing that I'm living my life the way I am supposed to live and going the way that I'm supposed to go. I feel the same level of happiness now as my time in Sudan, one of the hardest periods in my life in the last three years.
So yes. I am pretty dang happy, even without my glass of whiskey or a good looking man on my arm - totally interchangeable of course (please note the sarcasm) - I know who I am, that I'm right where I'm supposed to be and that I am deeply loved by an unconditional fire that would never die. It's a good life.
The first time I remember him saying it was when we were walking on a long, dusty red road to the local market in Yei, Sudan. We had another good three miles or so to go, so I thought it would be a great time to check up on how he's doing. We've just been to hell and back with extreme heat, bouts of malaria and other deadly illnesses and so far I haven't heard him complain - I wondered if he really was okay, or just needed a little prodding to talk. He said he was doing well and there was a note of sincerity in his voice, but I decided to press it further and asked if he was really fine after that month or two of hardship - and I still can't forget that moment when he gave me a slight smile and said, "you know, I figure that if I'm not happy here, I probably won't be happy anywhere else."
Such profound truth in such simplicity! So we walked on that day, covered in sweat and red dust from the road, malaria parasites dwelling in our livers and not much to our name than what the war-torn Sudanese have, but in perfect happiness that hollywood stars only dream of.
I honestly have it unbelievably good here in China. My apartment is amazing - a queen size bed, air conditioning, hot running water, no squatty potties, nice neighborhood, wireless internet, big tv/dvd player, etc.etc. My chinese lessons have been amazing and my teachers are quickly becoming friends, the Korean church I visited yesterday incredibly loving - and all this in one of the most beautiful, cleanest and safest cities in China.
I've been juxtaposing the two situations - one in Sudan and the other in China - on the way home today and realized something: Overall, there really hasn't been a time that I've been unhappy since my school in Salem in 2005. Of course there were ups and downs, hard times and good times, and many evenings when all I wanted was a potent glass of scotch, but there has been, is and will be such deep satisfaction in knowing that I'm living my life the way I am supposed to live and going the way that I'm supposed to go. I feel the same level of happiness now as my time in Sudan, one of the hardest periods in my life in the last three years.
So yes. I am pretty dang happy, even without my glass of whiskey or a good looking man on my arm - totally interchangeable of course (please note the sarcasm) - I know who I am, that I'm right where I'm supposed to be and that I am deeply loved by an unconditional fire that would never die. It's a good life.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
21 Economic models explained with cows
My friend emailed this to me...one of the funniest things I've read in a long time. Enjoy!
21 Economic models explained with cows.
SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbour.
COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and gives you some milk
FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.
NAZISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and shoots you.
BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk away...
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
SURREALISM
You have two giraffes.
The government requires you to take harmonica lessons
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyze why the cow has dropped dead.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
You then create a clever cow cartoon image called 'Cowkimon' and market it worldwide.
ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving you with nine cows.
No balance sheet provided with the release.
The public then buys your bull.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.
A RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5000 cows.
None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.No-one believes you, so they bomb the **** out of you and invade your country.
You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of Democracy....
AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive.
A KOREAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You dominate the local milk market with two other chaebol families who also have 2 cows.
Shortly after a preferred stock/bribery scandal you tearfully apologize to the public on the national news and promptly transfer the rights to the cows to your eldest son.
You retire and play golf with politicians in Jejudo.
21 Economic models explained with cows.
SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbour.
COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and gives you some milk
FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.
NAZISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and shoots you.
BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk away...
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
SURREALISM
You have two giraffes.
The government requires you to take harmonica lessons
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyze why the cow has dropped dead.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
You then create a clever cow cartoon image called 'Cowkimon' and market it worldwide.
ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving you with nine cows.
No balance sheet provided with the release.
The public then buys your bull.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.
A RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5000 cows.
None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.No-one believes you, so they bomb the **** out of you and invade your country.
You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of Democracy....
AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive.
A KOREAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You dominate the local milk market with two other chaebol families who also have 2 cows.
Shortly after a preferred stock/bribery scandal you tearfully apologize to the public on the national news and promptly transfer the rights to the cows to your eldest son.
You retire and play golf with politicians in Jejudo.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Updates from Hangzhou part 1: I feel like Alice in Wonderland
9.22.08
I am strangely calm as I head off to what may be the most unpredictable adventure since forever. Sure, I have some qualms about taking what could be a sketchy flight later on today, but am feeling pretty steady. After catching up on sleep like crazy and sitting through a few crappy movies, it feels incredibly bizarre as I wait in transit at the Incheon airport in Korean. It’s an airport that I am very familiar with; but it is the familiarity that heightens the feeling.
A part of me wants to go through immigration and come home, and another part of me misses America like crazy and wouldn’t want anything else but to get on the next flight back – but I keep on moving, driven by a deep sense of purpose that beats like a steady drum. This beat won’t stop until it’s done.
I’ve missed Asia, I realized. I’ve missed the people, the food, the quiet serenity intermingled with a loudness that is almost offensive, great passions blazing beneath a veneer of politeness and an organized chaos that is an essence…of me.
The hardest part of the trip is yet to come – traveling within China at crazy hours – so I await and prepare myself with tremulous anticipation.
The adventure is just beginning, after all.
9.23.08 3.20.am
I suppose it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference now, but I realize that I have stepped onto Chinese soil without 1.Bringing a little book of useful Chinese words and 2.Without doing much research on what the city is like, how much things cost, and with no maps whatsoever. What arrogance or retardation! Not only did I overestimate my abilities of survival, I have made the classic American blunder of assuming that everyone speaks English. There have been several times in the last three hours where I was convinced that it would make absolutely no difference whether I were asking for directions in English or in Korean, or better yet, telling a great story about unicorns grazing in a field over yonder. Mentally kicking myself over and over again would not make much difference besides to bruise my already considerably shrunken ego so I have stopped telling myself I am an idiot, but now my humor has kicked in and I am having a grand ole time laughing at me.
I won’t go into all the details of the night – or rather, early morning – but let’s say that it involved a lot of walking and pantomiming with my 60 something pound suitcase and my almost as heavy backpack in 86 degree (at 1am!) and 100% humidity weather.
And at the end of it all, I am not at all sure if this is even the hotel that I was supposed to stay at for the night. Two young Chinese girls who’ve had a teensy bit to drink guided me here after getting some directions from a taxi driver, and the sign on the gate is all in Chinese. Well, we will find out how well the girls did tomorrow.
I am strangely calm as I head off to what may be the most unpredictable adventure since forever. Sure, I have some qualms about taking what could be a sketchy flight later on today, but am feeling pretty steady. After catching up on sleep like crazy and sitting through a few crappy movies, it feels incredibly bizarre as I wait in transit at the Incheon airport in Korean. It’s an airport that I am very familiar with; but it is the familiarity that heightens the feeling.
A part of me wants to go through immigration and come home, and another part of me misses America like crazy and wouldn’t want anything else but to get on the next flight back – but I keep on moving, driven by a deep sense of purpose that beats like a steady drum. This beat won’t stop until it’s done.
I’ve missed Asia, I realized. I’ve missed the people, the food, the quiet serenity intermingled with a loudness that is almost offensive, great passions blazing beneath a veneer of politeness and an organized chaos that is an essence…of me.
The hardest part of the trip is yet to come – traveling within China at crazy hours – so I await and prepare myself with tremulous anticipation.
The adventure is just beginning, after all.
9.23.08 3.20.am
I suppose it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference now, but I realize that I have stepped onto Chinese soil without 1.Bringing a little book of useful Chinese words and 2.Without doing much research on what the city is like, how much things cost, and with no maps whatsoever. What arrogance or retardation! Not only did I overestimate my abilities of survival, I have made the classic American blunder of assuming that everyone speaks English. There have been several times in the last three hours where I was convinced that it would make absolutely no difference whether I were asking for directions in English or in Korean, or better yet, telling a great story about unicorns grazing in a field over yonder. Mentally kicking myself over and over again would not make much difference besides to bruise my already considerably shrunken ego so I have stopped telling myself I am an idiot, but now my humor has kicked in and I am having a grand ole time laughing at me.
I won’t go into all the details of the night – or rather, early morning – but let’s say that it involved a lot of walking and pantomiming with my 60 something pound suitcase and my almost as heavy backpack in 86 degree (at 1am!) and 100% humidity weather.
And at the end of it all, I am not at all sure if this is even the hotel that I was supposed to stay at for the night. Two young Chinese girls who’ve had a teensy bit to drink guided me here after getting some directions from a taxi driver, and the sign on the gate is all in Chinese. Well, we will find out how well the girls did tomorrow.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Commitment
Commitment.
This is my word of the week - or perhaps of this next season to come.
I sit and roll the word around in my mouth; weighing it carefully, admiring the way it sits on my tongue with such depth and intensity that it brings a feeling of excitement - no, perhaps anticipation - something that makes my heart thump loudly against my chest and yet carries with it a tinge of fear.
Earlier today I was sitting in a soccer mom van (hot, I know) at Portland airport, waiting to pick up some friends, and I decided to use the time to contemplate about this nagging feeling I've had for sometime that something has been missing in my relationship with God. I had compared myself to a bad girlfriend before when it comes to God and me - you know, not returning calls, talking about myself all the time, blaming Him for everything, does not listen, etc. etc. It has been more just for laughs than something that is all true all the time, but I realized today that one thing that has been missing is - you got it - commitment.
Why does that word bring such fear to my heart?
I think that many times I like to sit in this vacuum of grey religiosity, where I follow God on the outside, but am only half convinced and scared shitless on the inside. I follow God because it is the right thing to do, but do I really trust that it is the right thing to do? Do I really trust God?
Someone once said, "God is more interested in the work He does in you, than the work that you do." There is no grey area with God. Either I'm all in, or all out. If I am doing the work on the outside, but totally missing the point in my heart, I have lost it all.
Eternity is a hard concept for me sometimes, but the perspective of eternal life is the pivotal point of thinking when it comes to this issue. I believe that I am afraid of commitment because it means sacrifice. It means responsibility. I imagine myself as an investor, standing in front of God as my investment banker. He promises infinite returns in His Kingdom. As a matter of fact, He promises His whole Kingdom. I am hesitating because I am not looking at His Kingdom. I am looking at the here and now, the instant returns and gratifications, even if investing in that kingdom will only come to ruins. That is why I am afraid of commitment.
I committed myself today in that soccer mom van. I chose to trust Him and invest in the eternal. It is probably not an one time thing and I've only dealt with what I'm doing with my life in the next one year to come, but it was oddly liberating to commit. Commitment does not mean ball and chains after all.
This is my word of the week - or perhaps of this next season to come.
I sit and roll the word around in my mouth; weighing it carefully, admiring the way it sits on my tongue with such depth and intensity that it brings a feeling of excitement - no, perhaps anticipation - something that makes my heart thump loudly against my chest and yet carries with it a tinge of fear.
Earlier today I was sitting in a soccer mom van (hot, I know) at Portland airport, waiting to pick up some friends, and I decided to use the time to contemplate about this nagging feeling I've had for sometime that something has been missing in my relationship with God. I had compared myself to a bad girlfriend before when it comes to God and me - you know, not returning calls, talking about myself all the time, blaming Him for everything, does not listen, etc. etc. It has been more just for laughs than something that is all true all the time, but I realized today that one thing that has been missing is - you got it - commitment.
Why does that word bring such fear to my heart?
I think that many times I like to sit in this vacuum of grey religiosity, where I follow God on the outside, but am only half convinced and scared shitless on the inside. I follow God because it is the right thing to do, but do I really trust that it is the right thing to do? Do I really trust God?
Someone once said, "God is more interested in the work He does in you, than the work that you do." There is no grey area with God. Either I'm all in, or all out. If I am doing the work on the outside, but totally missing the point in my heart, I have lost it all.
Eternity is a hard concept for me sometimes, but the perspective of eternal life is the pivotal point of thinking when it comes to this issue. I believe that I am afraid of commitment because it means sacrifice. It means responsibility. I imagine myself as an investor, standing in front of God as my investment banker. He promises infinite returns in His Kingdom. As a matter of fact, He promises His whole Kingdom. I am hesitating because I am not looking at His Kingdom. I am looking at the here and now, the instant returns and gratifications, even if investing in that kingdom will only come to ruins. That is why I am afraid of commitment.
I committed myself today in that soccer mom van. I chose to trust Him and invest in the eternal. It is probably not an one time thing and I've only dealt with what I'm doing with my life in the next one year to come, but it was oddly liberating to commit. Commitment does not mean ball and chains after all.
The wisdom of the foolish: a battle of perspectives
I originally started out this blog with the intention of using it not just as an assignment for the school that I was taking, but also as a tool of advocacy that would educate and mobilize others about different injustice issues in the world.
A grand plan, even a noble one to be sure, but I found myself working on drafts of numerous posts - never satisfied and hating the process. The research was never comprehensive enough, the writing never good enough, and the thing that bothered me the most - none of the posts had any soul!
That lead me to ask these two questions: "What really changes a person's life?" and "Is anyone really going to read this shit?" I mean, if I hated writing it, it is a pretty good indication that it would not be a pleasant read.
A grand plan, even a noble one to be sure, but I found myself working on drafts of numerous posts - never satisfied and hating the process. The research was never comprehensive enough, the writing never good enough, and the thing that bothered me the most - none of the posts had any soul!
That lead me to ask these two questions: "What really changes a person's life?" and "Is anyone really going to read this shit?" I mean, if I hated writing it, it is a pretty good indication that it would not be a pleasant read.
Here is my conclusion: it is not another scholarly research paper or a collage of news articles that the world needs - it is another heart that cares. That is what changes a person's life.
So in short, I'm going to write about whatever I want to write about - there is a time and a place for advocacy and teaching people about the issues that piss me off, but I believe that more than my amateur attempts to report on different things (which I definitely will from time to time) I want to share things from my heart. The little tidbits of my soul, the snapshots from my life. This is a world that we are all shaping together and we are all in this process together. As we share more of our hearts with one another, I believe that the world will change for the better.
My life speaks louder than any pictures or words - I believe that it will change the world.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The reason behind the blog: Do we really care? The tale of dental floss
The idea for this blog came in the midst of one of those dark times of "self-discovery", when the harsh realities of the selfishness of my own heart thankfully soon enough collided with the grace and wisdom that were needed to pull me out of the pit.
The "self-discovery moment" is kind of like coming home one day from school or work and finding a big piece of salad greens from lunch stuck in your front teeth. First, you go through a phase of denial - "may be no one noticed" or "perhaps it got stuck there recently." The second step is questioning - you try pushing it with your tongue, or may be even touch the green alien entity - only to discover that, yes, it is indeed real. That brings the next step, acceptance. It is usually paired with despair, face-scratching embarrassment and anger - directed many times at others that are obviously well-deserved of blame ("if only so-and-so would have told me.." "..she was always jealous of me, that fat cow"). This step often ends with kicking of the self and intense fear of the tomorrow as you envision the invisible smirks throughout today. The last step, however, gives us hope and the ability to face tomorrow - it's a step of forgiveness and restoration through wisdom, in this case in the form of dental floss - the equivalent of what the cavemen of yore called the ye good twig. Restoring the teeth to it's pristine gleam cheers your heart.
This blog, to me, is the result of my dental floss.
I came home late one night after watching a harassing documentary about superstition-scapegoating-driven practice of child infanticide in the indigenous tribes of Brazil, clutching in my hand a print out of a list of action steps I could take to change this situation. I was of course moved during the presentation - even teared up a little at the emotional parts - but I could feel myself just slipping into the normal routines of night, careful to avoid looking at the list of action steps burning indignantly white with righteousness on my desk. I felt guilty. Guilty with the fact that I cared more about moisturizing my face than saving little children, guilty that my actions in the light of my tears were making me a hypocrite, and yes, guilty that I was not excited. The list felt like a chore, something that I should do, but did not want to do.
The realization was devastating, and so I grabbed the sheet of action steps and ran out to the back porch where my safe place was waiting: a whole bunch of stars, good smokes and God, my good ole buddy who actually chooses to listen to all my crazy crap.
At first I was just plain angry (I flew through the steps of denial and questioning pretty quick), blaming things on my tiredness, on the documentarists, and on God for giving me freedom of choice, but a jaded heart. But irrational things don't happen to last too long and pretty soon I was crying out on my face for a heart that is as soft as cream cheese, bleeding and oozing with compassion for the poor and the oppressed, and hands that would express that heart through action.
What I wanted was admirable; the way I wanted it was like with a dollar menu item on drive thru, cheap and quick. I wanted that good heart now, and thought it would just download in me like a computer program.
It's not like that at all.
God reminded me as I sat blubbering through my tears that having free choice actually means that I have choice over my heart: whether it be jaded or malleable like play-doh.
I could choose to care.
I could choose to care! That thought blew my mind away.
Later that night, I finished and checked off the action steps on that page - not necessarily cheerfully, but with a deep sense of satisfaction and purpose. And you know, after I was done, I really did care. Going through the steps, the actions, working for the sake of those children - these things added up, and I genuinely I-will-sacrifice-things-in-my-life-for-you cared. And that's when I decided to make this blog, to not just keep the things I hear and care about to myself, but to give others a chance to also choose to care.
I'll end with a quote from an article I read the other day. It really made me think.
"...Maybe this just proves that I'm Catholic, but I don't think there's anything wrong with making people feel guilty; I think we should have a sense of guilt or, if you prefer, a responsibility about this suffering in our midst."
The "self-discovery moment" is kind of like coming home one day from school or work and finding a big piece of salad greens from lunch stuck in your front teeth. First, you go through a phase of denial - "may be no one noticed" or "perhaps it got stuck there recently." The second step is questioning - you try pushing it with your tongue, or may be even touch the green alien entity - only to discover that, yes, it is indeed real. That brings the next step, acceptance. It is usually paired with despair, face-scratching embarrassment and anger - directed many times at others that are obviously well-deserved of blame ("if only so-and-so would have told me.." "..she was always jealous of me, that fat cow"). This step often ends with kicking of the self and intense fear of the tomorrow as you envision the invisible smirks throughout today. The last step, however, gives us hope and the ability to face tomorrow - it's a step of forgiveness and restoration through wisdom, in this case in the form of dental floss - the equivalent of what the cavemen of yore called the ye good twig. Restoring the teeth to it's pristine gleam cheers your heart.
This blog, to me, is the result of my dental floss.
I came home late one night after watching a harassing documentary about superstition-scapegoating-driven practice of child infanticide in the indigenous tribes of Brazil, clutching in my hand a print out of a list of action steps I could take to change this situation. I was of course moved during the presentation - even teared up a little at the emotional parts - but I could feel myself just slipping into the normal routines of night, careful to avoid looking at the list of action steps burning indignantly white with righteousness on my desk. I felt guilty. Guilty with the fact that I cared more about moisturizing my face than saving little children, guilty that my actions in the light of my tears were making me a hypocrite, and yes, guilty that I was not excited. The list felt like a chore, something that I should do, but did not want to do.
The realization was devastating, and so I grabbed the sheet of action steps and ran out to the back porch where my safe place was waiting: a whole bunch of stars, good smokes and God, my good ole buddy who actually chooses to listen to all my crazy crap.
At first I was just plain angry (I flew through the steps of denial and questioning pretty quick), blaming things on my tiredness, on the documentarists, and on God for giving me freedom of choice, but a jaded heart. But irrational things don't happen to last too long and pretty soon I was crying out on my face for a heart that is as soft as cream cheese, bleeding and oozing with compassion for the poor and the oppressed, and hands that would express that heart through action.
What I wanted was admirable; the way I wanted it was like with a dollar menu item on drive thru, cheap and quick. I wanted that good heart now, and thought it would just download in me like a computer program.
It's not like that at all.
God reminded me as I sat blubbering through my tears that having free choice actually means that I have choice over my heart: whether it be jaded or malleable like play-doh.
I could choose to care.
I could choose to care! That thought blew my mind away.
Later that night, I finished and checked off the action steps on that page - not necessarily cheerfully, but with a deep sense of satisfaction and purpose. And you know, after I was done, I really did care. Going through the steps, the actions, working for the sake of those children - these things added up, and I genuinely I-will-sacrifice-things-in-my-life-for-you cared. And that's when I decided to make this blog, to not just keep the things I hear and care about to myself, but to give others a chance to also choose to care.
I'll end with a quote from an article I read the other day. It really made me think.
"...Maybe this just proves that I'm Catholic, but I don't think there's anything wrong with making people feel guilty; I think we should have a sense of guilt or, if you prefer, a responsibility about this suffering in our midst."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
