bullfighting

I mean, hell, I'm blogging right now, aren't I!

2010-08-18T01:39:00.000-07:00

It seems to be, that in my short life of 21 years, the folks that have impacted me most reside in a place that is physically distant from me.

I have been blessed to have many spiritual mentors that have pastored me, guided me, advised me, led me, and loved me. And yet, the vast majority of them, live in places that are just far enough away to consider taking a plane to see them, if not further. What these beloved children have done for me and how they have impacted my growth (intellectually, socially, and spiritually) leaves me with the frequent desire to experience life with them on a more consistent basis. Reflecting on this has led me to the question: What would it be like if we all lived in the same place? How would our relationships exist if we saw each other all the time?

I am blessed to have many friends spread across the states. And I often wish I could gather us all in one place. But then I think about possible answers to my aforementioned questions. If we all lived in the same place, would we have ever met in the first place? Probably, because the Spirit brought us together. But the context would have been different, and therefore, the relationship as well. If we saw each other all the time, we would grow together in different ways. I feel safe to say that the growth we'd experience in that situation wouldn't be as good as the growth we experience together, at a physical distance, because if it were better, that would be how it is. The relationship wouldn't exist in the same, God created, way that it does from being in physical distance from one another. But we must still communicate regularly to grow with one another. So how do we do that? Dare I say it: the phenomenon that is the world wide web.

As a person of 21 years, I came of age in the heyday of the internet and it's development. I'm old enough to remember having a family computer that no way was going to ever connect to anything like the internet. I'm old enough to remember wanting to support guns so I could shoot my computer because the dial-up was so damn slow. And I'm young enough to remember spending many hours, almost amounting to full days, using old school chat programs and playing simple online games. I've been an avid internet user since the day my family signed on. I rocked AOL, frequented AIM, wasted time browsing yahoo and googling random things. I never got into myspace, but I'll proudly inform you that I joined facebook [as a high school student] when it was only available to college students. (The benefits of having a high school email account.) I posted ridiculously dumb things to livejournal. We used internet programs in my classes at school. I wouldn't get off youtube for months (and still don't). But then I started getting upset over our dependency on these internet programs. The thing that really triggered it was the fact that, in order to stay informed about my classes and extracurriculars, I had to check my email regularly. Which, at Warren Wilson, I rarely had the time to do. But if I didn't, I wouldn't find out about the meeting I needed to attend in half an hour. I wouldn't find out about the assignment change for my Peace and Justice class. I couldn't be informed without depending on the internet. This frustrated the hell out of me. But of course, when I did have internet access, I spent it floating around facebook and surfing the web. This frustrated me more. How ridiculous this all is!

But then, I think about the many friends I have been blessed to make. The many friends that are spread out all around this country. If I didn't "waste" my time on facebook, I wouldn't be keeping in touch with them. I'm awkward on the phone, and terrible about taking the time to call someone in the first place. If it weren't for these online programs that I had grown so frustrated with, I'd be completely out of touch with folks that I love.

If you came up to me about 2 months ago, I would have told you "I hate twitter. I think it's a silly waste of time." Though I think we're very capable of allowing the internet and what it offers to take up too much time of our lives, I now also feel we can greatly grow as individuals and relationals through it. I thought I'd never do it, but I've joined twitter. (you can follow me @freddiedoesit) I still insist on calling tweets "twats" and the folks that post them "twitties" just for my own selfish fulfillment. But there are many things I've gained from twitter. I learn about national going ons and the way people feel about them. I learn about religious and spiritual going ons; and the way people feel about them. And I learn about personal going ons [and the way people feel about them] in the lives of people that mean wonders to me. Same certainly goes for facebook, but I'm a new twittie, so that's more of my focus right now. And my twitter is focused on political and religious feeds, whereas my facebook follows everyone and everything. I digress.

I've struggled with my feelings to these online social networks. Sometimes I feel they take up too much of our time and distract us from what's important. But often, through them, I find out what's important. I feel that we could function just perfectly without them, but also know that at this point, we really couldn't. And I've come to be ok with that.

I value nothing more than human interaction, and insist that we don't allow these online social networks to replace them. And I gladly witness so many people living out this statement. If it weren't for this crazy internet, I would have lost communication with many influential and important folks in my life. Live on, virtual networking, live on.

This just in

2010-03-25T23:58:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, science fuels my belief in God. For, I have seen larger things. I have seen the Creator. And so have you.

Oh, human nature, you. Oh, how we all must seek any form of belief.

Let us always seek understanding, in whichever manifestation we desire.

dada poem

2010-03-04T13:20:00.000-08:00

Neighbor, Wrong

continents, you're overall married around feelings
history misinterpreted
musician attack got math
slaughter generations, War Division Time
maybe, personally, my very loyalty is worst
I, presidential, open the administration
don't fight illegal
damage comparing humanitarian far back why it was
sick achievement on walk to get gift of you
assignment apart
questions don't remark
power will take that to the end
and just try--and understand
the administration's media were two
but impact the evolution and far year
we reach greatest trip and ask blindly for what wasn't careless
where simple donation
will think to be certainly worse
i see me and the world
the estate has help but open hatred

The Mennonite Story

2010-01-05T20:15:00.000-08:00

I've just returned from attending the Montreat College Conference, which was themed "God without Borders." At this conference, I went to an afternoon workshop called Storytelling. In this workshop, we talked about affective ways to tell stories, particularly about our interfaith experiences in order to promote more interfaith communication and cooperation. It was led by a man who works with the InterFaith Youth Core (IFYC), an organization that seeks to empower young people of different religious traditions to work together to serve others. Towards the end of the workshop, our leader asked us to tell an interfaith story aimed at a particular audience. For the final story, he asked for a volunteer to tell a story as if speaking to their college president, asking for funding for an interfaith council on their college campus. It was silent for an awkward minute, and before I knew it, I was sitting in front of the workshop about to tell my story. This story is one that I had told to many individuals and peers before. I've told it in abridged and extended versions. I've told it in it's entirety and in bits and pieces. But I had never told it before an audience. This is that story.

I was raised in the Presbyterian Church and have always been what I suppose you would call a typical, or maybe stereotypical, Presbyterian. I was an active leader in my church's youth group. I was a member of a Presbytery Youth Council. I was a small group leader at a middle school conference three years in a row during high school. I was an officer of the Presbyterian Student Association at Presbyterian College. I think you might be getting the picture, but to put the icing on the cake, I was a camp counselor at Montreat, a Presbyterian Mecca filled with energetic, God-loving youth and adults alike running around talking about our Presbyterian ways. Because of this, last summer I decided to try something different, something new, something challenging. Through the Presbyterian Church, surprisingly enough, I found out about a Mennonite organization called Sharing With Appalachian People (SWAP). It is a home-repair service organization with locations throughout the Appalachian mountains of Kentucky and West Virginia. I would be working in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia as a construction site coordinator for the groups of volunteers that came in each week. I was excited to be doing service, to be living in a new place, and to be learning more about the Mennonite Church, a religious tradition I knew very little about.

At the beginning of the summer, I had been out as a lesbian for almost two years. So I had a very pressing question on my mind: What do the Mennonites believe about homosexuality? I was very curious to find out, but I also deeply feared the answer. During our orientation week, while driving in a van with most of my coworkers and my two adult supervisors, I openly asked that question that had been on my mind for months previous to that moment. I was told, immediately, the exact answer that I so deeply feared: Homosexuality is a sin. God intended for marriage to be between a man and a woman. Clinging on to hope that that was the belief of their church, and not of these individuals, I asked if they agreed with the church's beliefs about homosexuality. One of my supervisors sternly repeated herself: Homosexuality is a sin. God intended for marriage to be between a man and a woman. One of my coworkers even took a solid amount of time to explain how God could and would never love a gay person. I conversed with them for a few minutes, even citing scriptures, to defend the other side of their argument. I quickly realized that it was an argument I was not going to be able to win in that moment. Not to mention that I was growing more and more angry and was bound to say something I regretted. So, at that moment, I took a giant step back into closet. I never brought the subject up again until I decided to come out to one of my coworkers who I had grown close to. I felt he would be understanding, compassionate, and trustworthy. And I was right and am very grateful for that.

But as the days went on, things got harder and harder for me. I was ashamed. I was angry. I was lying to my coworkers, my bosses, and to myself. I was uncomfortable. And I grew more and more depressed. And I feared my neighbors. I was terrified they would judge me, hate me, and try to "fix" me, or at least fire me. This got worse as I learned that my Mennonite supervisors, due to the nature of Elkhorn, WV were also Pentecostal. Every Friday evening, we would hear a message from a local Pentecostal preacher. Messages that were very different than any I had heard before. Messages that were difficult for me to accept. Messages that made me more afraid and more uncomfortable. Eventually, I reached a point were I could no longer live or work in that setting and that community. One of my supervisors had a metaphor he used often: SWAP is like a train, and it's coming fast. You can either get on, and have the ride of your life, or you can get run over. So, one evening, I sat down with him and told him I was getting run over and I needed to return home the upcoming weekend. I gave him some other reasons as to why my time with SWAP had come to an end, and he compassionately said they would see me off on Saturday. I was ready to be returning to places where I knew I would be welcomed no matter my sexual orientation, some places welcomed because of my sexual orientation. But I still couldn't leave without coming out and sharing why our God loves all people of all orientations. Hopeful to change the way my coworkers thought about homosexuality, or to at least get their wheels turning a little differently, I made a plan.

After the group of volunteers left on Saturday morning, I informed my colleagues I would be leaving that day and returning home. I then asked them to join me in watching For The Bible Tells Me So, a documentary film that follows the stories of multiple families of various Christian denominations and their experiences with homosexuality in the church, and how these families were or were not able to overcome the hatred and pain that occurs within the church when homosexual people are persecuted. It also reveals how the Bible doesn't actually say anything about homosexuality being a sin. I didn't tell them anything about this movie before I played it, though I gathered one girl knew the general gist of the film as she told me, "Oh, they played this movie at my school. I didn't go." I replied, "Well, I suppose now you have to see it, don't you?" and pushed play. After it had ended, I stood up, in tears of course, and said to the group, "I'm not sure if you've figured this out or not, but I'm gay. And believe it or not, I'm also still a Christian." The two girls sitting directly in front of where I stood, one of whom was the same that missed her first opportunity to see the film, quickly dropped their jaws to the floor in shock. I know I hadn't come out to them, and I suppose it's a good thing they didn't make any assumptions, but I really thought the cargo shorts and all the flannel would have tipped at least a couple people off. One of my supervisors explained how when I had brought up the subject earlier in the summer, he and his wife had determined that I was gay, and decided to do their best to work with me anyway. After all, we're all sinners...I tried to explain that, in fact, me living as the person who God created me to be is not a sin, but his opinion was not going to change. I don't care much for the "Hate the sin, not the sinner" sentiment, but I suppose it's a start. We continued to have some interfaith dialogue, and the coworker who had originally explained God's lack of love for homosexuals, surprisingly explained, "If you condemn someone to hell because of who they love, and then call yourself a Christian, you're lying because you clearly don't have Christ in your heart." I was shockingly pleased, touched, and grateful to hear her make this statement. And I was honestly quite proud. She'd made a complete 180 degree turn by seeing For The Bible Tells Me So and I was the one who had showed it to her. My other, younger, Mennonite coworkers began to come around in their own special ways, saying things like "It's totally ok that you're gay. I knew some gay kids at my high school and they were cool. You're totally cool even though you're gay." I think it will be a while, due to their limited exposure to much of the real world, to really get the full picture, but some positive steps were made. My other supervisor even privately came to me and apologized for anything she may have said that made me feel judged, hated, or condemned. I simply said, "It's ok. You've been thinking that way a long time. I know I alone can't change you're beliefs, but I'm trying to." We then went out for a goodbye lunch at one of those Golden Corral type places before I hit the road for, you guessed it, my Presbyterian Mecca full of liberals and fellow homosexuals: Montreat.

While I was working with SWAP, I found it so difficult and impossible to live in that community. But now, looking back, I see how, on that last day, when we truly began an important interfaith dialogue, I could have more easily coexisted and we could have lived in a more positive interfaith community if I had only come out sooner. However, I sure was glad to get back to my people and be the Lesbyterian that I'm proud to be.

those mennies...

2009-06-08T19:18:00.000-07:00

So I'm working this summer with a Mennonite organization called Sharing With Appalachian People. Every since I heard about it, I expected it to be a very good and rewarding job. I also was very apprehensive. We host volunteer groups and do home repair projects. I've been here for two weeks, and the first group of volunteers arrived tonight. When we held a little orientation meeting the group, the Location Coordinators (my bosses) encouraged them to do some journaling. I decided after that I would finally sit down and start blogging about SWAP, which I've been planning to do since I arrived.

One of the things that definitely makes this experience very interesting is that my faith is very different from all of my coworkers. The majority of them are Mennonite. Keith and Charlene, the Location Coordinators, have Mennonite background, but now attend a Pentecostal Church of God. One coworker is not Mennonite, like myself, but seems to me to be a Southern Baptist type (she doesn't associate herself with a particular denomination, but that's what her religious behavior reminds me of.) And here I sit, a liberal Presbyterian Meher Baba lover that, when makes it to church, goes to a Unitarian Universalist one. I knew getting into this, that it would be a very religious and spiritual job (part of the reason I was interested in it) and I also knew it would be different from anything I've experienced before. But I was never really sure what quite to expect.

But despite these differences, one thing that I've noticed is that there are a few commonalities as well. And those commonalities just so happen to be things that are most important in my faith. The people I'm living with, working with, and interacting with use terms and language I've never used or try not to. Things like "eternal damnation," "born again," and a very extensive use of "Father" for God. The latter of which I'm used to to an extent, but they use it quite frequently and I try to use more inclusive language.

I'll elaborate with examples. Last Sunday, I went to church with everyone at the Church of God up the road. I was honestly a bit uncomfortable worshiping there. There was so much focus on sin and hell. Hell was a more common topic than grace - something I'm not used to and am opposed to. However, there were a few things I did appreciate. The main one being that everyone in the congregation called each other brother and sister. That was a habit I tried to get myself into years ago at camp, but it faded after a while. I love the feeling of community and comradeship it creates within their congregation. But for me, I would extend the use of brother and sister to those that "aren't saved." They use it to remind themselves that they are all one in Christ. I would use it more widely to remind us that we are all one in this Earth. What I surely wasn't used to, and honestly don't really buy, even though I witnessed it right in front of my face, is a lot of the hooting and hollering and practically speaking in tongues that happened in this church. At one point, people went to the front of the church to be prayed for. As the pastor was praying for one woman, her mouth was just running and running and I couldn't understand I single word. Then her body began shaking and she nearly fell to the floor. I still don't know what I think of this. It's really just something else. But another thing I did appreciate was during Sunday School, the leader made one point that whenever we come to God, we must free our minds and spirits of everything else going on in our lives. I like this because I agree, and I found it especially interesting because I very recently just read about Baba making the exact same point. The paths, the worship, the prayer, is so very different - but that one point was exactly the same. And that point is the most important aspect of that Sunday school and lesson and of that particular message of Baba. I dig that.

On Friday night, our neighbor Randy, who is a preacher and a business partner with Keith, came and spoke to us. He isn't the typical preacher I would be a fan of, but again, I appreciate to similarities more than I criticize the differences. (Which it took me a few days to get to that attitude, I'll admit.) One of the first things I noticed is his obvious passion and love for God, which I admire and love witnessing. When he opened in prayer, and every other time he prayed, almost every other word was "God" or "Jesus" or something along those lines. He spoke so quickly, I was almost annoyed by it. But then I made a connection. His prayer reminded me of Baba telling to keep God's name (whatever it may be) on your heart and have your heart and mind always be saying God's name. Randy's heart and mind, and mouth, were clearly repeating God's name. When Randy got to speaking, he spoke mostly of being born again. He told the story of when he was saved and when he was born again and proclaimed that everyone must be born again to go to heaven. When left at that, I disagree on many levels. But as he continued, he said "maybe you don't call it born again - but whatever you call it - everyone should have a time in their lives when God transforms them." Now that I can handle. I was easily reminded of two specific moments in my life when God certainly provoked a change in me. I cherish those moments and recognize and appreciate God's presence in my life before and after those moments, but I would never say I was born again. But once I got past my stubborn disapproval of that term - I appreciated Randy's message.

So far, I've certainly already changed spiritually a lot. I can see that I have - but I can't quite say how. We shall see...

obama

2009-03-17T18:51:00.000-07:00

2009-02-06T23:23:00.000-08:00

Our sexuality is such a small part of who we are.

It'd be good to have a friendly face in the crowd.

I've grown so much. But I still have so far to go.

That's all.

peace in gaza

2009-01-07T18:55:00.000-08:00

This evening, a one Russ Kerr and I ventured down to Charlotte for a peace vigil for the current Palestinian/Israeli conflict. It was a good time, with a good crowd of good people, and a good amount of support from people who passed us. We just stood at an intersection, holding signs and candles. We ourselves were a diverse group. I'm really glad I went. I love being a part of these things. CODE Pink, one of the groups that sponsored it, does it every week. Which is awesome. Duh. Anywho, I stole these pictures from a girl who was there:

Never Blend In

2008-12-13T21:45:00.000-08:00

"My name is Harvey Milk and I am here to recruit you."

I saw Milk tonight. It was an amazing film, one that I'm still trying to articulate my reaction to. But I figure right after seeing it is the best time get down some initial thoughts. I think one of the hardest thing is that now, 30 years later, we are still fighting the same fight they were in the 70's. Things have come far, but there is still so far to go. Milk's fight against Prop 6 parallels, for obvious reasons, our recent fight against Prop 8. But that fight was won. Only to face more struggles down the road. The fight never ends. Not only are we fighting to gain rights, we have to fight to keep them. It's difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that lives have to be taken in the process. People are beaten to death, shot and killed, because of who they love. How can so much hate develop from something based on love?

Milk, the man and the movie, are incredibly motivating and inspirational as well. Though I hate that the fight must happen, I'm glad to see and be a part of the Gay Rights Movement. I love that Milk refused to clump gay rights into human rights. He insisted that it stick out, that it be a direct fight, a direct demand. Despite multiple assassination threats, Milk stood strong and put himself out there: a bravery I'm proud to see exists, a bravery I hope I possess.

I'm also disappointed that the film isn't more mainstream. But I also have the feeling that it will be a quiet success in certain circles, then word will spread, and it will be a hot topic everywhere.

For the High School Musical fans, (Emily!) Lucas Grabeel who plays Ryan in HSM plays Danny Nicoletta in Milk. I was glad to see him in a film where he plays a gay man, and openly so. We all know he's a giant queen in HSM, but of course they couldn't say that there.

May more and more people be recruited every day. One of Milk's points to gain support was that everyone come out. If "they" know one of "us" they'll be in support.

Maybe it's time.
I've got some Republicans to convert.

transition for change

2008-09-03T15:29:00.000-07:00

I'm settling in after transferring from Presbyterian College to Warren Wilson College. It's an interesting transition, but I believe an improvement. The question of faith has been present for me since I've been here. I left a place where it's harder to say "I'm gay" than it is to say "I'm Christian" to a place where I'm embraced when I say "I'm gay" and get a questioning look when I say "I'm Christian." I hope everyone can see what's messed up with that. So which is better? Being around people with my same faith that judge me for who I am, or being around people that act like Jesus but aren't fans of Christianity? Christians are judged and looked down upon for various reasons, and lately I've felt that's valid. Men are more often the leaders of a congregation than women. Youth aren't always given a fair opportunity. The Presbyterian Church doesn't allow homosexuals to be ordained across the board. Baptist churches insist homosexuality is a sin and condemn people to hell. People are excluded from a faith that the most important lesson is to love. Love. That's it. The exact opposite of exclusion. We are called to live as Jesus lived before us. Doesn't that mean seeing a person as a person and not a label? I know more atheists that act like Christians should than I do Christians that do. I've slowly been reading a book that includes personal accounts from folks that like Jesus but don't like the Church. They dislike the hierarchy and hypocrisy. And I don't really blame them. I feel like the Church today doesn't follow what the church itself teaches. There's a lot in the Bible we can delve into, and study and question and debate over. But what's so hard to understand about "Love your neighbor"?

2008-06-21T08:22:00.000-07:00

Human connections and human community can be so intriguing and powerful. They aren't the same for everyone, but I think I love how they are for me. I feel I connect quickly and that's just plain fun to get to know people, but it's beautiful that we can connect and relate. And you never know how it's going to happen. I can randomly meet someone in a restaurant and then become good friends. I can meet a friend of a friend, and have that person someone I miss when they're gone for just one weekend, when I've known them for a mere two or three weeks. I can meet someone at a Rilo Kiley concert and run into them the next week at a bar. And it's even cooler when they know the people I'm with from other contexts. I can go to a bluegrass concert and see a woman dancing, who I saw dancing at Old Fort Mountain Music the week before. It's awesome how connected we all are to each other. And without even knowing it. And it's so simple and complex. Pretty much everywhere I go I see at least one person that I recognize for one reason or another. Usually I have no idea why. I only assume it's something as simple as being behind them in line somewhere or looking over into their car on the interstate. And then we meet and we have no idea how our paths have crossed in the past or how they will cross in the future. In a week, a month, a year, someone could introduce to this guy I'm sitting next to in the coffee shop right now and we could become lifelong friends. Or I could think he's incredibly annoying. Either way, it's crazy how we have no idea how much we all are interconnected.

peace

2008-05-24T13:33:00.000-07:00

Today, I found myself at complete peace. This afternoon, I headed to a big ass picnic with beautiful people. People that make me smile and jump and relax and energize and laugh and sing. We went to the most beautiful park that I had no idea existed. I found enough joy in simply realizing this park was there. It's fields and trees and flowers and streams and beauty. After a few minutes of folks pretending to be athletic, we walked down to a stream. I saw a huge tree with huge vines hanging on them and promptly sat on the biggest one to swing. It was beautiful and calm. You could see where the vines began growing and continued to grow. A large branch had fallen off of one tree and was caught in another and the big vine began to attach and grow to the new branch. It just made me think about how long trees grow and how they change and how old they get and how generations can experience the same tree, in different ways. Anyway, we then made our way down to the creek and walked in the soothing water and played in mud and clay. When we walked back, I picked some honeysuckle which I haven't had in the longest time and it was oh so good. Then I just sat on a blanket with some folks and was frequently visited by a moth that kept doing something, I don't know what, on my hands and feet. Jessie made a beautiful daisy crown and plopped it on my head. I felt wonderful. I was completely at peace this afternoon. And to make it even better, people knew it and would point it out. I am in love with today, with the earth, with amazing people, and with the good in this world.

some things on the mind...

2008-05-19T19:07:00.000-07:00

I feel like for the past month or so I've had so many things, of various topics, racking my brain and, frankly, wearing me out. When I try to stop and think, I can't. When I try to stop thinking, I can't. It's an odd mental state. I'm trying to touch on some of these things, break them down, and reach some conclusions. And I'm using this as part of the process.

Simply, I've still got a lot of unpacking to do. I'm only home for a few more days and then I head to Montreat. So I guess minor responsibilities are part of my mental clutter. I also want to see lots of people while I'm home. Which has made me think a lot today about friendships and the different types. During the last few weeks of school, the topic of "best friend" came up. I realized that I use that term a lot more loosely than a lot of folks do. Some refer to only one person as a best friend. I refer to all of the people I regularly hang out with as my best friends. Because they are. They're the best ones cause they're the ones I call when I'm bored, or hungry. They're the ones whose apartments I go to on the weekends. And I know in my heart that one or two folks in that group are truly the best of my best friends. And I know I have very best friends outside of these circles for certain. Friends in many different places. And those very best friends don't, at least haven't, really changed and I certainly don't want them to. And I gain new ones as my days pass. But as far as "circles" of best friends go, those change. At Cannon, I had my group of best friends. At PC, I had my group of best friends. I left Cannon, and that group is great without me. I think about them periodically and they me (at least I think and hope) But they're not the ones I call with my problems. Just the few very best friends of those best friends. The group at PC will lose some - seniors mostly and me transferring. But it sure as hell still exists. I imagine, and hope, I'll become a part of another circle at Warren Wilson. I just think it's interesting, and in a way beautiful while still sad, that these circles still stick and exist as people come and go. Especially in communities like school. I've enjoyed going to small schools where these groups of friends aren't limited by grade level or age. I've also enjoyed being in a group of friends where I was the only freshman. It made me feel cool and totally went to my head. I had other friends, but that group fell cause it was full of bitches. Anyway, people come and go, but that group, that bond, still exists just in other people. There's a connectedness that doesn't go away. Sometimes certain people lose connection, but that need for a connection happens with others, in the same phsyical location, and also where those people go. We're designed to be united. Even just in small groups of friends. But also in the world, but that's more thought I can't articulate well. Seniors leave, freshman come in. And that group is still there. I feel connected to people that I've never met in my life, because they went to PC and were friends with people I am now friends with. I hear about them and know exactly who they are, and some of their quirky qualities, I have eventually met a couple of them. I'm connected to people I don't know. Everything's connected.
Along a similar, and more humorous note, I've been watching a lot of The L Word lately. On the show, Alice keeps track of the infamous "Chart" in her living room. It connects women to each other through all the other women they've had sex with. People are connected to each other in bizarre ways. Some of these sexual encounters are merely that, and some are short or long term relationships. I can be connected to a complete stranger by someone else's love. Or their drunken horniness!
Ralph Paquin gave me some CDs to listen to after looking at my altered books and saying "You've got a weird head...I want you to listen to some stuff." It's about 10 days worth of shit to listen to, so I'm taking it very slowly. But I've listened to a little bit of Dr. Wayne Dyer's Power of Intention and it's made me think about connection as well. It's too much for me to fairly and respectfully articulate here. And I haven't drawn any conclusion about his words yet. Except that I like it. I believe he states some things I've been drawing to formulate in my mind, and more obviously. He talks about having self respect. Now, it's not some cheesy "love yourself" self-help bullshit. Self respect so that we can connect to the God within us and the Creator of the universe. Not only are we connected to each other through friendship or sex (or both) but we are connected to God. He is in us and we are He. Just be you, and love you, because not only did God make you, He is freaking in you. I guess it's kinda the love the temple thing so don't put funky shit in your body, but I don't like thinking about that part. It's about loving yourself and doing what you love and connected to God to recognize what you love. We're here for a reason and we're supposed to live with a purpose. We have one, we just have to discern it. And we do that by being so connected with the Creator.
It's so simple, yet it's so hard...
When listening to Dyer I had thoughts about how he was right and it seemed new to me. Now that I'm writing about it I'm realizing I've been taught this all my life in church. I have moments like that a lot. Where I recognize something I've already known. I think no matter how much we are told over and over in Church, it doesn't matter until we experience it ourselves. Our faith is personal, and we know it when we know it. Not when Ms. Smith reads it out of the Sunday School planner one morning.

Everything was quiet except for the birds. And all God's creation said, "Poo-tee-weet."

life list

2008-04-07T17:01:00.000-07:00

I've decided to compile a list of important moments and experiences of my life. So this is the beginning of that list.

1. Finding God.
2. All times spent at Massanetta.
3. Both trips to Mexico.
4. Learning that Tracy Chapman is actually a woman, not a man.

those crazy liberals

2008-04-06T10:49:00.001-07:00

A big topic amongst a lot of my friends for a good while now has been about which one of our friends are gay and know it. I have a very liberal group of friends which is awesome because I'm proud to say I'm liberal. But is it possible to be too liberal? Too open-minded that it ends up being it's own kind of oppressive? I started questioning this during a dinner convo last night. I was eating with two friends and we were discussing a friend of ours that we are pretty sure is gay. And that's great. We're here for him and will support him. But, for a while, people have told him, "You're gay. You're gay. You're gay." It's usually along with "I'm here if you need to talk about it." kind of thing. But this person has been incredibly emotional lately. And very obviously confused. I think the open-mindedness of his friends has maybe fueled that confusion. I think he knows he is gay and is still trying to figure it out but having people in his face makes it much harder. And people say "We all know! He should just come out! He'll be ok!" But he needs to do it on his own time, in his own way. And maybe he's not even gay and it's driving him crazy, and confusing him more, that people keep saying he is. I feel like a lot of our friends are so open-minded that we throw everything out on the table, cause what does it matter, we're all people. But I think the fact that we do that might be making things harder for this person. Which all comes back to my question. Is it possible to be too open minded that it becomes it's own kind of oppressive? I think in this case it just may. There's a difference between being open minded and accepting, and then being so open minded that you're pressuring people. I do love to talk about those gays but sometimes I wish it wasn't always the topic of conversation.

While I was writing all that mumbo-jumbo I was thinking about how now I want a bumper sticker that says "Christian Liberal" and then I began to question if I consider myself a Christian Liberal or a Liberal Christian. Which comes first for me? Does the order even matter? Blah, I don't know.

Everything was quiet except for the birds. And all God's creation said, "Poo-tee-weet."

special olympics

2008-04-04T16:07:00.001-07:00

We had Special Olympics today here at Ye Olde PC. It was a very early for myself and many others, but, despite the overcast weather, a very beautiful morning. This is a program I've always heard many, many good things about, but have never had an opportunity to be a part of. How blessed I am to have experienced it this morning. Opening Ceremonies where beautiful. Watching the boy who carried the torch run around the track with the hugest smile on his face about brought me to tears. What an honor he felt. The parade was incredible as well. I cheered the most then than I ever have standing in that football stadium. Smile after smile after smile proudly walked around the track. I worked at Olympic Town which basically meant I got to do what I do best - act like a four year old. I played with bubbles and danced my own dance and colored and face painted. Timothy, the coolest kid I know, won first place at the tennis ball throw, and when he wasn't running around blowing huge bubbles or throwing pie after pie after pie after pie after pie, he flashed his blue ribbon. He was a punk of kid and threw things at me, and flashed his camera in my eyes, popped balloons despite one PC student's repetitive request that he not (ok, I'm the one that kept giving him balloons in order for him to pop them...). He was impossible to keep track of and never stopped running around. He also enjoyed throwing water on people. Wild Child. And yet, a few moments before he had to leave, he came up to me and gave me a big hug. I miss him already. My friend Allan, another avid water-thrower, would follow me and ask me why I did everything I did. "Why are you dancing that way? You look goofy. Why are you making that stupid looking face?" and so on. He stole prizes and threw them at other athletes. Then, it came time to break down Olympic Town and clean up. He helped me carry two heavy ass tables. Another woman came up to me at Olympic Town with a giant, laughing smile, and then opened up her jacket to show me her third place ribbon that she could not have been prouder of. It's just plain awesome.

On another note, I truly believe in the good in people. I believe we are naturally good, not evil. How could you believe otherwise? There are a lot of folks that I will admit I judge. I judge them because I think they're wrong in some ways. They annoy me or aggravate me. I lose patience with them. But they are good and they are God's children and my brothers. People are good.

Everything was quiet except for the birds. And all God's creation said, "Poo-tee-weet."

2008-03-31T20:09:00.000-07:00

Today, thousands of maquiladora workers, many of them strangers to Tijuana, Mexicali, Juarez, Matamoros, wake up to find themselves without money in an inhospitable region far from home, where the cost of living is higher, and the padlocked doors of maquis are echoed by closures and failures all along the line. When Vicks VapoRub comes from a Mexican plant, and your cassette tape and VCR are assembled by an "Oaxaca" who can't read, and the big boys take their Learjets and martinis to Beijing, taking their little blue bottles and their Mylar and circuits with them, it becomes the duty of El Norte's businesses to take up the slack. If only burgers could be cooked in Africa and teleported! If only toilets would scrub themselves, pants stitch themselves, tuna can themselves, lawns mow themselves! If only robots would slice the throats of cows and grind them into sausage! If only tomatoes and oranges and apples, and cotton, and sugar cane, and peaches, and cherries could be harvested by monkeys! If only we had clones! If only wildcat construction projects would frame and roof and shingle themselves!
If only Mexico paid workers a decent wage.
In Iowa City, Omaha, Nutley, Waycross, Metairie, those who survive the northern passage can earn in an hour what it took a long day's work in radioactive chemical Mexican sludge to earn before. The green hills of eastern Arkansas are ripe with chicken plucking factories, and the woods are now alive with Mexican "Templos del Evangelio"--crazy backyard churches not unlike the Sonoita bible temple down the street from the legendary El Negro's compound. Signs that once said "Jesus or Hell" now say "Cristo o Muerte!" The Oaxacas ruse to the Arkansas hills to make a stand against the devious angels of Desolation.
Mexicans still behind the barbed wire continue to listen to fabulous tales of Los Estados Unidos. They watch drunk and disorderly teens vomit in the streets of Spring-Break-Atlan. They wait tables and mop floors while sailors scream and naked girls dangle from balconies. Topless gringas pout on their beaches, where they are not welcome unless they're sweeping up cigarette butts or carrying trays of Day-Glo liquor conconctions. They watch television, go to open-air twelfth-run movie houses where the tickets cost fifty centavos and the mosquitoes bite their necks. Radio is alive with propaganda: Eminem! N'Sync! Britney! Ja Rule! (They call him: Ha!) It's Radio Free Mexico, on every AM and FM dial! They buy castoff American clothes at the segundas, and by God, even the gringo trash is better than anything else they can buy!
Border dwellers, come from the hinterland, are twelve hundred miles away from home but five miles from the United States.
We gonna get it back.
Luis Alberto Urrea, The Devil's Highway

2008-03-30T10:44:00.001-07:00

i'm in love with color and light.

monkeys

2008-03-17T21:09:00.000-07:00

Today I realized once again the power of words. (And how much I love quotes!) In psychology we were talking about language and stuff I don't really understand. But we talked about we're born with something (no clue what it's called.) that allows us to develop and understand language. It's awesome. We're born with the ability to develop understanding for ANY language. I guess it's kind of an example of how influenced we are by our culture and society. After a certain point, I think at about one year of age, our ability to learn another language begins to weaken. It kinda makes me sad. We're less observant of different sounds and inflections. And as grow older, we become much less observant of many things around us. I love kids, and I love living like one just cause it's fun. But I think it's important that we all do that. Kids get so excited about things that we take for granted. Stuff in life is fucking cool! Kids get that on a regular basis. It's awesome.

More language fun. I'm reading The Devil's Highway for class. It's an awesome book. There's a section that talks about how there are some English words that are known in Mexican communities and it's weird because these English words are either similar - or they translate into something completely different. Such as "Chicago" which broken down into "Chi" and "cago" means "Piss" and "I shit" in Spanish. And I was thinking about when the Nova came out and it didn't sell as much as expected. Maybe because in Spanish it means "No Go" Who wants to buy a car that doesn't go?! It's just wild to me for whatever reason. I think it's so cool.

Plus, I just love words and quotes. In psych this morning we also talked about how we understand that the order of words really is important. I think it's awesome that just stringing a few words together, in a certain order, can contain so much power. Words are beautiful and powerful. Words are so important. And they are something so obviously common, but also incredibly unique. Words and a little less hair are all that separate us from monkeys. We are just as much a part of nature as your average creepy crawler, but what puts us at the apex is our powerful form of communication. Words are wild. Wild.

hands

2008-03-11T20:06:00.001-07:00

I just spent a little time in the drawing studio to finish up a piece I had started last night. About 85% of it is solid black, so needless to say I was using a ton of charcoal. After drawing for about 10 minutes or so, my hands were filthy and my fingertips were solid black themselves. Studying my hands, I couldn't help but think of the hands of farmworkers, particularly at Immokalee. My hands were in this state last night as well, but I didn't make this connection until a few moments ago. Even after scrubbing my hands for a good while, they haven't come completely clean. Last night, a friend looked at my hands and said "Gross, why are your hands so black." "Oh, I was drawing and using a ton of charcoal." "Ok, I was wondering why you're so filthy." Filthy. I am so filthy. I know nothing was meant by the statement, but I was being judged because of how my hands appeared. And I have become so filthy because of something I choose and enjoy to do. Imagine the judgment put onto hard working people who toil and struggle picking tomatoes in extreme and harsh conditions. I feel guilty because I know I try to defend why my hands turn black. "I know I like look a nasty mechanic, but really I've been drawing." A nasty mechanic. Seriously? My hands are black because I am blessed enough to go to a school with a decent art department. I am blessed enough to live in a large dorm, where I can walk downstairs and go to this art studio whenever I please. I am blessed enough to return from drawing and sit at a Mac Computer and write this. I am blessed. And I feel guilty.

I stood up from my drawing and noticed that loads of charcoal dust had found their way to my pants. Khaki pants nonetheless. I couldn't help but picture Bev's reaction to this. She would be steaming mad if she saw my dirty pants. Steaming mad. They're just pants. I have many more pairs. And I also have access to a free washer and dryer.

I made the decision to draw in silence tonight. And by made the decision, I mean I forgot to take my ipod with me. Because of this, I was able to let my mind think. And to examine my black hands. It's important to separate ourselves from modern distractions. I don't do that enough.

anger

2008-03-11T12:53:00.000-07:00

I've been realizing lately that I'll think about an issue, or talk about an issue, and just get really pissed off. I've got a lot of anger about problems in the world. I believe it's right to be passionate for change, but just getting worked up and pissed off isn't ok. I know I need to direct that energy into positive change. I've had a very general anger towards the Border Patrol that was brought to surface last week. We had dinner with an incredible BPA. He was a great guy. Welcomed us into his home with open arms, well, the best he could with tiny kids running around screaming and a pizza in the oven. He talked to us about his conflict of being a strong faithful Christian working as a Border Patrol Agent. I walked in excited to speak with him, but pissed off about what he does. As I grew to like him for who he is and not his job title, I began to realize how ridiculous my attitude was. But then I got frustrated with the fact that despite his faith, he remains to be an agent just for the money. And my anger surfaced again. But in a different way this time. This time I was just frustrated with him and wanted to make him quit his job immediately. Originally, I had a generally anger towards all of Border Patrol. This evening made me realize that I was angry at people just because of a general idea of who I thought they all were. I was mad at Border Patrol because I convinced myself they were all horrible people who hated Mexicans and ran around trying bag up a good one everyday. I hated them for having a judgmental misconception based on a judgmental misconception I had. What makes me better than a BPA for knowing that they're not better than folks on the other side of a stupid fence? Nothing. I was behaving the same way some of them do, but in a different direction. I felt pretty hypocritical. There's still some shitheads out there, but there's shitheads everywhere. And God loves 'em anyhow. I don't look at BP as a whole the same way anymore. But I still wish that one agent would just quit his job and do what he wants to already!

This is a picture I took at the agent's house before dinner. He had passed around a bullet from an M16 for us all to see. Once we were done looking it, he placed it on the coffee table. Next to his open Bible. What an image. It personifies a few things to me. His personal struggle as a Christian Border Patrol Agent. War in the name of God. It was just wild to me.

dell and denise

2008-03-10T22:18:00.001-07:00

This past week in Mexico, I built relationships with many beautiful people. God's people. Each has their own unique and incredible story. Two people that really struck me are Dell and Denise. We met both of them on our first full day. Sunday morning, we met with my new friend Dell for breakfast. Our discussion with him was incredible and inspiring in many ways. He started by listing about 10 or 11 different issues that all pertain to the US-Mexico Border. Things like environmental issues, women's rights, human rights, economy, etc. We narrowed down the list and he let it roll. He spoke with passion and vigor that was beautiful. Dell is Mexican-American and has lived in Dougla Prieta (Douglas, AZ and Agua Prieta, Mexico) his whole life. But he doesn't really use "Mexican-American." He says "I am a human living in my own bio-region." This has been stuck in my mind ever since. He has begun something I believe truly needs to happen - the breaking down of racial division. We're all just people living together on God's earth. We're not Mexican, European, American. We're human. It's just that simple. All borders, physical or not, should not exist between any kinds of groups of people because we're all just that - people. I overheard some people talking today when I was walking around campus. One girl told her friend "Don't say 'black' it's offensive. Say African-American." Her friend responded "No, they want to be called black now." Ideally, we would say he and she and man and woman, brother and sister, and never see any color. But realistically that's not happening anytime soon. But why do some people see black as an offensive term? Why should we say African-American to be politically correct? White isn't considered an offensive term. You don't hear people say "Don't say white - say Caucasian." They are both just colors. And they're both irrelevant. Dell also spoke of our interconnectedness through water. I thought that was beautiful stuff. It's so simple. We're all people coexisting. We coexist whether we want to or not. We are all living together on this earth. Can't we do that in peace and love? It's so simple. And yet it's so hard.

After the breakfast that brought me to tears, we went to church for 394028 hours. That night we had dinner at the house of Denise, one of the members of the Lily of the Valley Presbyterian Church in AP. First of all, we made corn tortillas which was just plain fun. Then we sat down and had a delicious meal with Denise. (I ate chicken. She put it on my plate, I couldn't be rude.) She shared her story with us, and its a rough one. I'll give a partial summary. She is originally from Chiapas. She moved to Agua Prieta because the man she was dating started to use physical force to get her to marry him. This was at 15. I believe she began working in a maquila (factory) at either age 13 or 16. (We met a lot of workers, and I get this factor mixed up.) Her step-father was abusive. Her biological father left when she was a baby, and though she knows who he is, he does not claim to be her father. She doesn't speak to her step-father. She, her husband, her brother, and various ninos live together in a 2 bedroom house. There are 11 of them total. Each family has one room. She married at age 17 and had her first child. Both she and her husband were working in maquilas. They worked different shifts so they could rotate taking care of their children. They never saw each other. Never spent time together. Now, her husband works full time and she stays at home with the children. When she was working, her day started at 7 and lasted until 3:20. She got two breaks - one for 15 minutes and one for 30 minutes. She stood all day. At various times in her life, she got involved with drugs, but was able to steer away from this with help from her parents and church. She likes living in AP but misses her family in Chiapas. Despite a regular struggle with work, men, family, and marriage she has a joy that shines through her constant smile. She has seen suffering but shares a constant love. I almost cried when I watched her hold her youngest daughter in her arms. She puts her all into her family and it shows. Denise is 23 years old and dreams of one day owning her own restaurant.

In America we focus on big and more and more and more. My two parents and I live in 4 bedroom house. I can't go anywhere without spotting something I have to have. I waste money that I claim to not have. That's straight up bullshit. I, we, have been trained by a ridiculous culture that tells us to buy. And to buy big. My mom drives a minivan. She's the only one that uses it. Why does one person need a car that seats seven? She doesn't. Why do we have to have a car for each person in our family? We shouldn't. We're sucked into a material culture and I hate it. It's a difficult cycle and society to remove yourself from as well. I'm challenging myself to do this more and more everyday. And I suck at it. I just spend 5 bucks on an unnecessary late night trip to Waffle House. That's about how much a maquila worker makes in a day.

Workers all over the place are exported every day. And the way we live our lives here is responsible for that, whether we are aware of that fact or not. I've been developing an ever growing hatred for corporations. Starbucks lies about having free trade coffee. That's bullshit.
http://www.justcoffee.org/ That's not bullshit. We spent a little bit of time in Nogales one morning. We drove around town and walked around a few parts. The town is so poverty stricken. Small homes that look like you could knock them down with a simply touch pack the rough mountainsides. Dirt roads full of holes and trash wind through the city. The sight of poverty is endless. That is, until you pull up to a brand new, high class shopping center with large brick and class buildings. Walmart and Burger King. Of course. What an obvious display of mis-distribution and the ridiculous power and success of corporations. But it's hard to avoid the corporate world today. We buy necessary items from corporations that exploit workers. And we close our eyes to it. It's not staring us in the face, so it's easy to ignore. And that's understandable. I don't want to watch people in sweatshops. I want to run away from it cause it sucks. But farmer's markets are fun. You can meet some mad crazy folks. Thrift stores have some wild (and "normal") collections. We can change the way we live. And we need to. The way you and I live our lives affects the way others are forced to live theirs. It's so simple. And yet it's so hard.

I wish I was better at articulating things when I climb up on this soapbox, so that's that.

Peace.

waterflow

2008-03-09T08:56:00.000-07:00

But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream!
Amos 5:24 (NIV)

Water has always had may symbolical meanings, one of them especially being baptism. Water represents new life and life with God and I think that's a beautiful thing. Water also now represents to me the power of nature over man made material and structures. The border is made out of old landing mat from the war and various metal materials. There are multiple spots along the fence where instead of metal sheets there are large poles filled with cement spaced with a couple inches in between each one. There are also places where there are gaps of fence. These are new additions (or omissions) due to rains and water during the wet season knocking down the fence. This happened multiple times for about three years and then somebody wised up and made the fence permeable (for water...). Also, there are tons of places all along the wall where the metal is rusting. We should act as oxidizing agents to tear down this physical border. I think it's an incredible that something natural and God made is overpowering something man made, that shouldn't exist in the first place. Water also represents unity to me. We all need the same nourishment from water. People all over the entire world. We should not have borders between any groups of people and should recognize that we are all people, all human, all children of God. We all need water. Water is strong. Water is smooth. Water is nourishing. Water is necessary. Water is life.

"Water" by David LaMotte
So they built their shiny hotel
Where the water meets the land
They smiled a little nervously
As the ocean took the sand
They went down below the shoreline
And they hauled it back again
But the heavy rain and the hurricane
And the water’s gonna win

The water’s gonna win
Bring it all back
It will wash away again
The water’s gonna win
Pack it up or pack it in
The water’s gonna win

The glass of water you were sipping
As you watched the morning come
Has quenched the thirst of seven others
Underneath a younger sun
We are memories and moments
We are born and born again
Rushing stream and breathing steam
The water’s gonna win

The water’s gonna win
Ascending and falling and rising up again
The water’s gonna win
Ride the tide and ride the wind
The water’s gonna win

Haul the rocks and sign the papers
Pour another glass of gin
Cut the ribbon with the scissors
But the water’s gonna win

You went down beside the river
Just about a year ago
Gave the ashes to the current
Saw them swirl into the flow
You still hold it all inside you
You can’t stop once you begin
Close your eyes and feel it rising
The water’s gonna win

The water’s gonna win
You can’t hold back the tide
You can’t hide from what’s within
The water’s gonna win
Feel it move beneath your skin

The water’s gonna win
It will with keep flowing through
All we are and all we’ve been
The water’s gonna win
Forever and amen
The water’s gonna win

On our last night in Agua Prieta, we met with a woman named Mary Beth and did an art therapy project. We meditated for a little while which was relaxing and rejuvenating. Then we took some oil pastels and drew. The image that kept coming into my mind was holding onto the fence. When we met with Mark Adams on the border to have a little class of sorts, we took a moment to hold onto the fence in silence. As Americans, this is our fence. It's ours. We own it. We pay for it. We put it up. It's ours. That piece of shit is ours. So I drew my hands holding on to these two posts in the fence. In the background I drew moving waters. To me this represented all of the things I've mentioned before, but it was interesting to see what it meant to other people in our group. And those meanings still related to things that struck me while in Agua Prieta. The two posts resembled the twin towers. We learned that since 1997, more than 4500 people in that area had died in the desert trying to cross the border. That's more than the number of people killed on September 11. To me that points out the seriousness of the immigration and border issue. Ever since 9/11 we have been involved in this "War on Terror" and retaliating an event that happened on one day. The US Government is not developing a promising solution to the border issues and hundreds of people are affected by that every day.

Justice will prevail. The water's gonna win.

le beginning

2008-03-08T22:20:00.000-08:00

i've decided to pick up the whole blogging thing again
we'll see how it goes. and by how it goes i mean how much time i waste doing this.

i just got back from mexico and arizona and it was a hell of a trip. we did a lot of stuff that has made me think, cry, laugh, wish, anger, shiver, smile, and all kinds of things. there were so many events and issues presented. we went to learn more about immigration and the border and living in mexico and so many other issues, some pertaining only to me, some to the whole group, some to the whole world, came up. i thought a lot about the obvious issues of immigration, and i'll go into more about that later, but i also thought a lot about my future. and where i'll be and what i'll do. i thought a lot about my plans to transfer. i've been getting so excited about warren wilson. but this week on the border made me think, yet again, about taking a year off. i admitted, yet again, that if i did that i'd never return to school so school it is for now. so then i started getting excited about all the things i can do while in school. both still at pc and at wwc the next few years. and over the summers. but i also got frustrated with how i haven't done as much as i could and should have been doing while at pc. i'm in a weird mental state that i can't quite describe. it's been an incredible time spending a week being involved with a passion of mine. border issues and similar things have always been in interest/concern of mine but i didn't fully realize how serious i am into this until this week. it felt great being in every town we stayed in. agua prieta was a great community and i enjoyed being there, but the morning we spent in nogales was something else. the city made me so sad yet still enthusiastic about the possibility of getting involved with that community. the whole time i pictured myself walking through the town and up and down the mountains.

i feel like my thoughts right now aren't really getting to any kind of conclusion. more on mexico is soon to come. i'll have to right a reflection paper about the trip and the course at some point so i'm gonna get stuff down on here to refer to later on. genius, i know.

i'll finish up with some ray lamontagne lyrics:
don't put your trust in walls
cause walls will only crush you when they fall
be here now, here now