um.

i bought my plane ticket to prague today.

the usual anxiety is starting again. hard to say if it's better than before i went to taipei. and one day, i will master it, just as i've conquered other travel-related fears. i figure that once i've had almost everything stolen from me, things can't get much worse, right? right. suffice it to say, the anxiety is ebbed by the fact that i always sleep with one strap of my bag wrapped around an arm, and the bag is always on the side with the wall. you think i'm kidding, but i'm so not.

generally, i will tell you right now that i have no idea where the money has come from, or will come from for that matter. but it always comes. my bank account is like Jesus multiplying the loaves and the fish. this happened to me in europe. and again around month 2 in taiwan. and then again when i was planning for my trip to russia. i always look at the money and think, there's no possible logical way i'm going to do this. but without fail, $20 seems to stretch into hundreds, though i've never been good at doing the math on how this takes place.

a few months in prague. then it's hard to say, but i will figure out where God meant for me to be. i have so many bright ideas about what's going to happen and so few ideas about how i'm going to do it.

but the certainty that i'm supposed to go searching for what it is constantly sits in the back of my mind. it makes my legs twitch and my fingers ache. it gives me euphoric dreams and horrifying nightmares. makes me notice everyone and no one. i feel like my soul sees with so much clarity that i might go absolutely, intellectually mad.

i'm just hoping that i'm wandering in the right direction.

thanksgiving.

i have a confession. i love... no... love american holidays. i think that they are the best holidays ever. nothing makes me miss home like missing a good, old-fashioned american tradition. in fact, i can tell you a number of sad, lonely tales about what i did on my favorite holidays of the year.
for example, last fourth of july, i spent the day exploring st. petersburg, and the night waiting in a station for the longest and most uncomfortable bus ride you can probably imagine. twelve hours from petersburg to riga, with one stop in estonia in the bloody dead of night. i did discover that it eventually gets dark that time of year, however, but only for 2 hours. and for those who don't know, the fourth of july is my second-favorite holiday. just after christmas. so you may as well call it my very favorite holiday.



despite my lonely tales, i will tell you this: one of my favorite thanksgivings was last year, the first one at kate and caroline's... and the one that followed with the mormons. it wasn't perfect. no fancy china or sitting at a large table while everyone gave thanks, and on one occasion, no turkey! actually, i think there were even canadians and kiwis at these events, too. but the joy and the welcoming and the warmth of the whole thing made me feel like i was at home again. for the first thanksgiving, possibly ever, i felt that i had something monumental to be grateful for. i had a family, despite having no family. i wasn't lonely, despite how very lonely i had been. i know, i know, normally we thank God for the big and the small, the meaningful and the insignificant... that's what the holiday is for. but this one, somehow, was different. i suppose that i'd felt so much of what it means to lose, or give up, what was important and comfortable to me, only to be provided for in abundance in such a very foreign place.



these days, i'm totally loving thanksgiving.

win, fail, ?

a few things:
i heard back from the school in prague. they've accepted me into their program, sans interview.
win!
i think i'm getting ill, and have been for a few weeks now.
fail.
i loved wicked.
win!
some avenues seem promising (win!) but don't seem to go anywhere of significance (fail)
prague means that i will be leaving work this winter. this also means leaving all manner of pleasantness and unpleasantness behind.
?
i had a startling, vivid dream last night. about last year, that mountaintop in indonesia, and terrible things that happened in my dream, though not in real life.
???

sleep

i think that, tonight, i will sleep much better than i have in a long while.

thank You, for taking this away from me.
i'm really glad that You're a whole lot of things that i'm not.

personality tests

lately, my family has taken a number of personality tests, partially because it'd be good for us and partially out of curiosity.

i have recently discovered that i am a blue-white, very nearly a blue-white-yellow.

and also that i am an enfp. more importantly, i also learned that, as such, i am typically attracted to intp's and infj's.

somehow, this explains a great deal, about me, and about the hims i seem to choose.

i really wish i'd known this a year ago.
or three.
or maybe even five.




to be honest, i'm very tired of hurting, and really i just wish it would all go away. this week marks 60 days, and i am saddened to find that, on occasion, i still feel compelled to cry. i'd like to think i've forgiven, because being unable to do so is only going to hurt me - slowly eat away at me so that i remember nothing about him but my own bitterness. this would be unjust as, truly, i mostly felt much, much sweeter things than bitterness. some things, more deeply, wildly, and beautifully than i ever thought i could again. and others, more painfully and recklessly than i'd ever hoped to revisit after the one that took me a year to extract.
despite all this, i have no desire to utter that forgiveness, much less express it in a meaningful way. still, part of me feels that the dreams, the nervous twitching, or maybe even that sick feeling i get at the bottom of my stomach when i uncover that letter or those entries will go away if i do. the other part of me, however, believes that any utterance will only be disregarded, or un-reciprocated, or worse, criticized. that somehow, the whole thing will be concluded to be my own fault, and i, being ever-true to form, will accept the blame. it's hard to say which course of action is more unbearable, but even more difficult to admit that the reason i refuse to act is because i'm sure i'll cave. and i absolutely cannot cave, because, i know, absolutely, that it wasn't my fault, and even more absolutely, that i can't take the humiliation again. blessed are the poor in spirit, He said, for they shall be filled. i don't know that i'm ready to feel that poor again before i wait for You to fill me up. i don't think i even have the capacity for that kind of humility anymore.

to the sleepless, this is my reply, i'll write you a lullaby

i've been having strange, unusual dreams. and many of them, somehow, someway, including senegal. that's a small country on the western african seaboard.


why senegal? this had better not be like that island on lost willing people to come to it and all.

i'm only kidding.
sort of.

election woes.

i think 2008 might actually give me an ulcer.



i've always hated talking about politics, because i hate what it brings out in people.


also, i just might explode all over the next person who generalizes my faith and/or followers of Christ.

the un-prodigal child(ren)

show of hands: who remembers the story about the prodigal son? i've heard it what feels like a gazillion times. even though gazillion isn't a real number. it's a beautiful depiction of God's love for us, about being lost and then found, amazing grace, etc. etc. etc.

as of late, my mom has described her feelings towards my brother as the father's from that story. even though the son walked away and fell apart, the father still waited for him. he still wanted his son back. she told me that, unless you're a parent, there's really no way to compare a connection like that. she explained that, in parenthood, all bets are off - you would do anything for them. and of course, the father rejoiced when he got his son back.

since i don't have a child, i don't know that i can relate. and since i haven't deserted my family, i can't relate to the prodigal son either. the person i've always understood on some level, however, is the faithful son. which probably shouldn't be the case, because he's not the point of the story. also, i'm pretty sure Jesus wanted us to know that we are all, on some level, prodigal sons. still, i couldn't help but feel that he was justified in his resentment of his brother. here he was, the faithful son, watching his brother who'd screwed up and made a big mess of his life and his father's life, receive the full inheritance back. i fully sympathize with his anger. he, the faithful son, had stayed behind to work and make something of himself. he, the faithful son, hadn't broken his father's heart. he, the faithful son, had treasured his inheritance and lived a life worthy of it. in addition, which isn't mentioned in the story, but he, the faithful son, had probably spent a good amount of his life piecing his father's heart back together. he'd probably try to show his father that there wasn't a need to be shattered, that one of his children wanted to please and honor him. and then his brother, who he had seen hurt his father so, came back and it was as if he'd never left. in fact, they even threw him a party!

i think that, at times, my parents wish that my brothers and i would show a little more compassion towards the one. that our first desire wouldn't be to slap his face off. i've tried, and i think my brothers have tried as well, but that compassion has become hard to find these days. really.

so in the midst of our discussion, we revisited that story. i said that we've run out of compassion in the same way that the faithful son had. that we strive to honor and obey, and that, in the deepest regions of ourselves, we can't understand why our parents are broken. we all know that, should anything happen to us, our parents would feel just the same, but it's difficult to watch what our sibling does to them and still try to find that same compassion. we wonder, as the son probably wondered, what gives our sibling the right? our parents loved us all the same, gave us all the same things, and treated us the same. so why does this one feel that he should have the right, the ability, the gall, to act the way he does? why should his meager (and sometimes downright pathetic) excuses for faithfulness be rewarded - rejoiced over, and ours accepted or assumed?

i suppose that we, like the son, rest in the knowledge that we're loved and rejoiced over the same, though it manifests itself in different ways. that perhaps, what the prodigal son didn't have, we still have, though it might be difficult to identify or even accept these things. and perhaps, just perhaps, the difference in all this is that the prodigal son displayed humility, something that the rest of us have yet to see.

all the same, it doesn't make it any less difficult for us, the un-prodigal, to understand our brother(s). that son wasn't greedy or even wrong. he might have just wanted to remind his father that, while the other one was doing the destroying, it wasn't easy or enjoyable to pick up the pieces.

home.

right now, the whole "home" concept is not what i thought it would be. nothing i've ever experienced before, either. but things rarely turn out the way you wish they would or expect them to.

so i suppose it's helpful that jon foreman's "i am still running" came on just when i needed to hear it.
build me a home, inside your scars
build me a home, inside your song
build me a home, inside your open arms
the only place i ever will belong

and as much as i've learned about this over the years, about how You provide home when i need it, i think i need to know this more than ever these days. i'm done with speaking and i'm done with arguing. i'm even done with searching for sympathy in the deepest regions of myself.

and i'm asking You, my Father, please don't forget me now. i need a home.

the smothering immensity of america

it would not be inaccurate to say that i was ill-prepared for my re-integration into american society. i hadn't given the adjustment much thought, as i've believed myself ready to be home for a while now. i'd prepared myself to leave my children, to be awed by china, to be free in mongolia, to be bored in siberia, and to love moscow despite all the stigmas. after all my hard work and anticipation, i wasn't expecting life in america to be complicated at all, because, let's be honest, it had been 13 months and i was exuberantly ready for mexican food, sunny days, the pacific ocean, affordable starbucks, and my friends. let me first establish that, after having visited various corners of the globe, better weather does not exist outside of southern california. yes, i realize that this depends on your definition of "better," but let me tell you that you cannot count on the sun to shine more regularly and the weather to be more consistent outside of this lovely corner of the world. to return to this, my friends, i am grateful.

all that said, despite people speaking to/at me in english when i'm expecting another language. and despite how much i missed chipotle's vegetarian burritos. and even despite the deeply felt absence of my friends, it's everything i can do to keep my heart from exploding every few hours. not with joy, but because i can feel the anxiety of all things american; all things convenient and large, welling up inside me. at times, i have to slow down, close my eyes, concentrate on simply breathing - or maybe on the hypnotic flashing of the turn signal ahead of me - to simply comprehend the vastness of the very road on which i'm driving. 2 1/2 lanes, a divider, and 2 1/2 going the other way, my mind keeps repeating. i crossed less than that to get to my bus stop on the busiest road in banciao.

the truth of the matter is that i feel crushed by the almost excruciating convenience of modern america. by the fact that i can visit a place like target, one of many other places just like it, and buy myself a snack, tampons, a sweater, the office season 3, laundry detergent, a greeting card, a video game for my brother, and a plant for my mom, everything in one place is all too much to handle. i almost don't know what to do with the rest of my brain's capacity, because all these things required 10x more effort in taipei. i had to go to 7-11 for the snack, cosmed for the tampons, blockbuster for the office, net for a sweater, the little mom and pop shop down the street for my detergent, hess bookstore for the greeting card, ximending for the video game, and the flower market for the plant. thus, i would spend my saturday afternoon doing all the things that i can now easily accomplish in 30 minutes or less without driving more than a mile. and the reason it took my saturday afternoon was because my mornings were spent doing my weekly laundry, which now takes all of 10 seconds and doesn't take 72 hours to still be a little damp yet wearable.

the problem is that all my unused energy, all that void capacity, is being dominated by white noise. by an overwhelming lack of concentration. that i find myself unable to stay focused or on track. that my brain labors beneath the weight of variation and convenience around me, grasping at something to pay attention to, to focus on, to center myself upon, yet inexplicably dazed. i'm distracted by all the music, the signs, the language, the concepts that i understand because i grew up here. i speak the language. fundamentally, all this makes sense to me. but it all gets lost when i see the variations on oreo cookies sprawling before me. i get distracted and confused by how something as simple as an oreo cookie somehow becomes very complicated at the grocery store. do i want the plain ones? double stuff? reverse flavors? and what's all that colored stuff? oh, they make other flavored cookies now. and what size should i get? things get even more confusing when i realize that i also have the option of buying a generic brand. at my local 7-11 so many thousands of miles away, oreos came only one way: 12 cookies at 43NT. nothing special, just plain oreos. i've gotta say that i liked the simplicity of choices. either i wanted the cookies or i didn't, but i didn't feel tormented by options. now, as i look upon the vast array of everything including cookies, i can't remember what i was thinking or why i expected it to be harder than this. and yet i wonder why it is so hard, why america is so bent on testing my decision-making capabilities by putting so many choices in front of me.

more than once this week, i have gone into the cupboard or refrigerator, and simply been overwhelmed by a well-stocked food supply. i've gone to make myself some coffee, but haven't known where to start. my life was simpler, containing such fewer choices during my travels. but in those moments of unbearable plenty, i find i have to close the door and order something at a local restaurant, because there i can at least focus on a specific object, self-contained by its recipe and my blissful lack of control in how it's made.

i feel myself, at times, unable to speak, to think, or even to just be, my brain overstimulated by the sheer vastness of my surroundings. it's true, what they say about things being bigger in america. more cars, and they're all bigger than the ones i've seen since i left. my home street is probably 4 times as wide as my alley in taiwan, which sort of fit a cab if you were lucky. my backyard seems to contain more grass than the whole of taipei. and as for my house, well, i'm kind of blown away by the whole "2 1/2 bathrooms" concept.

i was surprised to find that the hardest part for me was church, where i go to meet my Father who, i have found, meets me in the most surprising and humble places. despite my inability to find a church, He always finds a way to speak to me, even when i'm discouraged or confused or in my loneliest of states. i found Him even when i didn't expect to find Him, atop rinjani in the cold. in the smallest moscow churches, by myself as i plodded along the wall. He romanced me, and reminded me that i am His. even whilst sitting down in the great temple of bangkok, wondering about truth and absolutes, i was certain that my Father heard my confusion and frustration, and He met me, where i was. i could hear Him in the depths of my spirit, and i prayed to my God, while others prayed to theirs. i didn't care, because my God is present everywhere, untamed and unlimited by the compartments to which we assign Him. in fact, it is in these seemingly meaningless nooks of His creation that i seem to hear His voice the loudest. in the utter brokenness of humanity and spirit that His beauty screams from the most deafening and ineffable heights. and yet, when i go to meet Him with others who are looking for Him as well, i can't even concentrate. everything is so big. the building, the message, the lights, the screens, the band, the music. and others around me feel Him and hear Him, and i have always and will always ask myself why i can't hear Him too. the truth is that i need to be prepared in spirit when i come before my God, and strangely, i haven't been able to silence my head or my heart enough to concentrate. perhaps i never was quite cut out for a large church.

i like to think that eventually, i'll get used to all this. that my being with synchronize with my surroundings, and that i will feel once again like i belong in america. whether or not that's what i'm meant to feel is questionable, but i'm trying to be patient.

synchronizing and feeling is perhaps too much to expect. so for right now, i'll just focus on breathing.

seriously. it's all i'm asking for.

"ask and you shall receive."
or so the saying goes.


wish i had what i needed
to be on my own
cuz i feel so defeated
and i'm feeling alone

and it all seems so helpless
and i have no plans
i'm a plane in the sunset
with nowhere to land

and all i'm seeing could never make me happy
and all my sandcastles spend their time collapsing

let me know that You hear me
let me know Your touch
let me know that You love me
and let that be enough

it's my birthday tomorrow
no one here could know
i was born next thursday
22 years ago

and i feel stuck watching history repeating
oh, am i just a kid who knows she's needy

let me know that You hear me
let me know Your touch
let me know that You love me
and let that be enough
-jon foreman

addictions

"i love you like a fat kid loves cake."
or so the saying goes.

yes, i have addictions, but i tend to think they're fairly harmless, and most of them come and go.
except coffee. and that's been since i was like, 16. i'm pretty sure i've lost that battle. mostly, i try not to think about how much it costs me each year.

there are worse things. like drugs. or alcohol. or sex. or a combination of all three and then some.


but currently, my addiction is jon foreman's new solo tracks! he's releasing 4 cd's this year, titled spring, summer, fall, and winter. i've already listened to fall, and he's just released winter.

i've gotta say, they're beautiful. they're introspective and just lovely to listen to. they're all acoustic, and the content is a provocative combination of His beauty and the pain of moving on.

example:
she said, friend, all along, thought i was learning how to take
how to bend, not how to break
how to laugh, not how to cry
but really, i've been learning how to die
i've been learning how to die



keep writing, jon foreman. thank you for saying something that goes so much deeper than the usual drivel our generation produces.

"would You create in me a clean heart, oh God, restore in me the joy of Your salvation"
it's been my prayer for a long while now.

i once heard...

"learn to laugh at yourself, and you'll always be amused."
or so the saying goes.


currently, this is my goal. silly, and probably shallow, but i sometimes think i'd like myself a lot more if i could do it.



i've been asked before if there was one song to describe me, what i think it would be.
and long have i thought about it. i don't think i've had a dominant personality, so i've never thought any one song could adequately describe who i think i am.

but the more i've listened to this song, i've realized how much bono knows what he's talking about. about searching and knowing. i try not to mistake my confusion/confliction with being lost. as the old adage said, not all who wander are lost. i like to think i fit into that category. on my most existential level, i've figured out what i'm living for, but beyond that, i feel like i'm wandering. bono admits that he believes, but simultaneously admits that he hasn't figured it out. God bless you, bono.

i have climbed highest mountains
i have run through the fields
only to be with you
only to be with you

i have run
i have crawled
i have scaled these city walls
these city walls
only to be with you

but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
but i still haven't found what i'm looking for

i have kissed honey lips
felt the healing fingertips
it burned like fire
this burning desire

i have spoke with the tongues of angels
i have held the hand of the devil
it was warm in the night
i was cold as a stone

but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
but i still haven't found what i'm looking for

i believe in the kingdom come
when all the colors will bleed into one
bleed into one
yes, i'm still running

You broke the bonds
and You loosed the chains
carried the cross of my shame
of my shame
You know i believe it

but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
but i still haven't found what i'm looking for
-u2, "i still haven't found what i'm looking for"

all is quiet on new year's day

"you never know unless you try."
or so the saying goes.

happy 2008.

here's to another year of chances, another year of growing and shrinking dreams, and most importantly, another year of sufficient grace.

my goals for 2008, practical and spiritual:
see the great wall
finally make it to russia
end the year doing something i enjoy
write more
read more
listen more
talk less
breathe more
stress less
pray more
forgive more
laugh more
love more

and decrease, that He might increase

"so then he was all 'i love you' and i was like, 'please...'"

"count your blessings."
or so the saying goes.

i couldn't think of a title, so i wrote this. because chris and i are clever/bored/immature, we find it amusing to write captions on handouts we get at work and school. we then share said captions with each other and have a laugh about it... i like to think it keeps us from imploding. anyway, this was his caption from my workshop. i still think mine from last week was better.

though i spend most of my days as a teacher at least mildly stressed out, i've come to realize that i'm so very happy here in taiwan.

once in a while, i have a devastatingly long week here. sometimes it's due to a bad class or sometimes we just have a lot to do, but this week was one of them. i had the sounds and letters competition, report cards, MY workshop, kindergarten handbook, and a final exam in chinese all in one week. i'm a bit tired.

while you could see the effects of my stress on my face, i've gotten better at managing it. i think this is because i'm learning to dwell less on those things which wear me thin and more on things which make me happy. this week's blessings include:
1. a warm sweater
2. fresh fruit
3. guotie
4. not failing my final, despite having not studied
5. kicking ass at my workshop, thus affirming my awesomeness
6. not kicking ass during g3, thus tearing down said awesomeness
7. chris (the less nar-nar version)
8. & julien
9. christmas music
10. k1
11. peanut butter and chocolate sandwiches
12. yellow watermelon
13. tonight
14. coffee
15. talking to layce
16. rain
17. just discovering that aro's coming to visit

count your blessings.

there are aspects...

"this is the day that the Lord has made"
or so the saying goes.

that i truly, deeply miss about my home in temecula. not just california, and not just temecula, but my actual house - the back yard specifically. i strongly believe that every great childhood requires a great back yard. far too many children are without one here. this is probably because they spend 13 hours of the day in school.

i was thinking today about how i've been living the past 4 months with no moments of silence. one can always here people, cars, the whirring of fans, the tinkling of store door bells, the murmur of conversation wherever one goes. it's difficult to block out the white noise, though i've tried. and i realize how very much i miss spring mornings in that house. when i have gotten up early enough there, i have experienced mornings when time actually seemed to stop. when i can't hear traffic or people, because everyone's still asleep, and i can't hear the main roads when so few cars are on them. the windows in our kitchen face directly at a hill over which, if you catch it on a clear morning, has a perfect and breathtaking sunrise. the light slowly peeps over the hills and bounces off the trees, the flowers, and the quiet homes on the other side of the gully separating our house from the rest of meadowview. the air still has a piercing cold bite to it, but the coffee forces the cold to the surface of my body. the cold air and mist around me softly kisses my hands and face. the sunshine slowly melts the cold away, and illuminates the dew on the grass, leaving before me a glistening carpet of deep green. the kind of green that makes me think of more than freshness or my favorite sweater or of eyes. but a profound green, which almost lures me into resolving myself to only eating organic and inherently useful things. of never looking at anything processed or metallic again. and as the sun slowly metamorphoses from a faint pink to a bolder blue, i start to awaken from my trance and think about my day and my responsibilities.

many a time have i thought, especially as i've gotten older, about the stillness of those mornings. here, i long for those mornings. for the taste of the coffee, for the warmth of a soft sweater wrapped around me. i long for the ability to be still in those moments. to just be, and to know that He is. how i long for them. i think that when i return, i will make it a point to have a first morning just like that.

environmentalism for amateurs

"the times, they are a-changin."
or so the saying goes.

global warming. what do i think about it? to be completely honest, i'm not sure how i feel about it. these days, it seems like questioning the concept always produces a very specific response. the person stares at you in disbelief, as if you've just questioned the existence of gravity. their jaw drops a bit. you can sense their thoughts running rapidly through their mind, as they try to pick an appropriate thing to say to you. you see them discarding the most offensive ones in hopes of finding something that suits both your comment and their relationship to you. ah, here's one... "how can you say that?"
"it hasn't been researched very long, and i'm very confused. researchers tell me that you can feel the world warming up during our warm season, yet the news reports that we've had the coldest winter in a decade, so..."
"don't be ridiculous; it's a fact. the world is warming up."
"sure."

nevertheless, i'm just not convinced. yes, i know al gore and leo dicaprio say that it's all true and proven, but it's based on not many years of research over the vast existence of earth. furthermore, the world, as recorded in history, has gone through cycles of prosperity and of draught. of abundance and scarcity. it is indeed possible that we are simply passing through one of these phases again. and as many environmentalists will tell you it's true, there are many others who think it's just a myth.

but i digress.

to the dismay to some of my republican family members, i am, indeed, an environmentalist. okay, so i do a lot of things to their dismay. i believe in walking whenever i have the chance, in public transportation, in energy-efficient products, and in driving fuel-efficient vehicles. certainly, some things are unavoidable. no doubt, we are often forced to buy cars instead of using public transportation because of our location, particularly in the states. i understand this. but i am whole-heartedly against abusing our natural resources. this is not because i think the world is heating up or that it will one day explode. it's must simpler than that. and in terms of my reasoning, i direct your attention to psalm 19:
the heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows His handiwork. day unto day utters speech and night unto night reveals knowledge. there is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. their line has gone out through all the earth and their words to the end of the world.

or isaiah 55:
for as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, and do not return there, but water the earth, and make it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; it shall not return to Me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it. for you shall go out with joy, and be led out with peace; the mountains and the hills shall break forth into singing before you, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.


these passages have always struck me as extremely powerful. while people often quote passages that claim that we have been given dominion over the world, my mind is constantly drawn to these passages. God likens his Word, His being, His truth, and His glory with the things of nature. He speaks of even the dormant natural objects around us proclaiming His name. of the many metaphors the writers of these passages may have chosen to explain the Word, it is interesting that they found these the most powerful and poetic. yet we continue to rip away at this. many a religion has claimed that divinity actually inhabits these objects, but i think that this image is even more powerful. nature is an expression of the glory of God, of His presence around us. though we tear it down in the name of humanity and the advancement of civilization, all these things abound without our help. they, quite literally, come directly from God, without our hand at all. and in their silence, they shout louder than everything around us, as our world becomes deafened to His call by the day. how foolish would be if we, then, remove it all? the things that we can't reproduce, the things which praise Him without any human intervention, of which, praises resonate even in the starkest stillness. their worship screams louder than any of the things we erect.

when i climbed mt. rinjani this summer, one of the most noticeable aspects of elevation is the removal of all human sounds. you cannot hear cars, or planes, or boats, or the white, monotonous buzz of something as plain as electricity. for the first time, possibly ever, i heard nothing. God says that we can hear Him in a still, small voice, and on top of the mountain, i think i understood the meaning of that phrase for the very first time. with the extraneous noises removed, you can hear a whisper of His glory so loud that almost compels you to cover your ears, see such a small glimpse that it's almost blinding. the trees clapped their hands and the mountains sung, but it was not as we might expect, with all innocuous sensory stimulants around us - the kind that almost make us numb. it was in the stillness, in the absolute quiet that i could hear His glory, and the shouts, the proclamations of His handiwork, weren't even audible. despite our ability to push the sound barrier to ever-increasing limits, how much more amazing is it that one does not even need to hear anything to be utterly overwhelmed by the shouting of His creation?

i once read an essay by a jewish ethicist that explained, as clearly as he could, why he believed in environmentalism. he argued that he saw the world as God's body - the physical manifestation of something we could not otherwise understand. he saw protecting the environment as simply a way of honoring and praising God. as one does not desecrate the temple, so should one respect the natural world around us. he encouraged his readers not to think of themselves as having dominion over the world, but as having been entrusted to take care of the world.



i am not, and have never been, scientifically inclined. you can throw research and data at me, and it will not affect me. with all the research on why we're dying so much or what will surely happen to us if we don't stop, i am no more compelled to change anything. but when faced with something as moving as the glory of God, shouting from the tops of mt. rinjani, i am certain that it should be - nay - it must be preserved.

question: why did the chicken cross the road?...

...to avoid dying of dysentery, of course.

but seriously. show of hands: who remembers that stupid question from childhood, and furthermore, who thought it to be utterly pointless and irrelevant to anything pertaining to real life. i mean, chickens don't cross roads, right?

ah, see... that's where you're wrong. clearly, you've never been to indonesia.

the concept of chickens crossing the road never made any sense to me until i found myself in the back seat of a van as it whizzed through the windy roads of lombok island, indonesia. the roads are about as wide as a one-way, one-lane street, but people in indonesia find it perfectly adequate for a 2 lane highway next to a precarious cliff overlooking the ocean. i just smile and act like i have complete faith that our driver won't lose control of the vehicle and send us plummeting over a cliff into the tropical waters below. i also act like it doesn't bother me that i don't have a seat belt. i guess people sitting in the back seat don't get one. it was on this particular car trip, just before our treacherous trek up mount rinjani, that i saw dozens of chickens cross the road. our driver honked time after time to get them to move out of the way. apparently, they're not smart enough to simply move when they see oncoming traffic, nor do they seem to learn that the road = bad. so they insist on crossing the road and just narrowly escaping an especially gruesome and squishy death.

ah, but i'm getting ahead of myself. this post, really, is about my trip to indonesia, not about chickens. but where do i begin? our harrowing car trip-slash-exercise in effective chicken-dodging tactics is merely the beginning of the many adventures chad, chris, and i experienced on this trip.

last saturday, we arrived in bali. we decided to spend our first night in kuta, a popular destination for tourists. and while the beaches of kuta are beautiful and there are many people, it is so developed that you lose a lot of indonesian personality. starbucks? dunkin donuts? pizza hut? please. if we wanted all those things, we could go back to the states. nevertheless, we discovered that there was a very good middle eastern place down the street from our bungalow, with sheesha for 4usd. 4 dollars and hookah? sign me up. we downed hummus and enjoyed our apple apple tobacco before moving on to some of the local night clubs and resorts. our first stop was ku de ta, which was right on the beach. unfortunately, despite being beautiful, it charged way too much money for drinks. by western standards, it's about right, but in indonesia, you shouldn't spend more than 3 or 4 usd for a mixed drink. feeling a bit underdressed and uncomfortable with the high prices, we moved on to two local favorites: crusoe's and Mbargo. we all enjoyed crusoe's because of the live music and the laid-back atmosphere. but it turns out that this place was also something of a brothel. it didn't take long to figure out. while i was uncomfortable as the only female non-prostitute there, i found the social interactions around me fascinating. i actually liked studying body language and male-female hierarchy. i was angered by the superiority and the sense of entitlement that the men had. even the young ones. i was saddened that the girls were so desperate and by such a degeneration of love and sex.

but then again, i was only observing.

the next day, we spent a few hours on the beach (great surfing, p.s.), before moving on to ubud, a smaller city more inland. i think that ubud was probably my favorite place. i liked our accommodations best there as well. it was quieter, less crowded, less developed, and more bohemian. we wandered through the shops and talked with the locals for a while, then made our way down to the sacred monkey forest. for 1usd, you can buy a bag of bananas to feed wild monkeys. they will come up to you and take them, and some will even sit in your lap. they're very intelligent and incredibly adorable. also, they're very spoiled in the sacred monkey forest. chad took out a banana to feed to one of them. distracted, he didn't notice that another was creeping up behind him until it snatched the entire bag from his hands. i also witnessed chris' monkey mishap. he held out a banana to offer to a monkey, but it didn't want that banana. it wanted the bag. so it tried to grab it, but chris wrestled it away. at this point, the monkey bore its teeth, showing its true colors. chris tried to give the bag back, but at this point, our monkey friend was bored. short tantrum, as it were. nevertheless, chris did manage to give it one banana, but this wasn't enough. it kept throwing said banana to the ground with contempt. spoiled, spoiled monkeys. after this, we had a lovely dinner in a garden and attended an indonesian dance show. the costume and the makeup was amazing, but i think what fascinated me most was the style of dancing. their traditional dancing tells stories through eyes, hands, fingers, and feet. there's very little movement of the entire body and very little facial expression, so the entire dance is punctuated by subtle movements. it is very beautiful and entrancing to watch.

the next day, we had an early cooking lesson at cafe wayan, an indonesian restaurant. they took us to one of their larger restaurants, where we made a 5 or 6 course meal and then ate it. the wonderful thing about the food is that we used only fresh ingredients. they actually had a garden next to the kitchen, where they could pick their spices and vegetables for the meals. the food was amazing, and we all thought that perhaps we were slipping into a food coma. we then spent some time shopping and wandering around before deciding to rent motor scooters and explore bali a little more extensively. this sounded like a lot of fun to me, though i'd never ridden one and i had to remember LEFT side. LEFT side. RIGHT turn, DANGER turn. unfortunately, my lack of experience became painfully apparent when i turned too widely and hit a parked van outside a hotel. i pretty much bounced off it. everyone could see the horror cross my face when it happened. for those who don't know, i've never hit anything in my life. never been in an accident. never received a ticket. chad and chris were quite supportive through it all, though they couldn't keep themselves from laughing. i imagine that i'll never live it down. we had to postpone our motor scooter adventure to get an estimate on fixing the bumper and the scooter. they took us to a local body shop, where they were quoted about 90usd to fix the car and 50usd to fix the bike. they promised me that if i simply paid that amount, all would be forgiven and, more importantly, forgotten. i didn't argue, because i imagined how much trouble i would have been in had this happened in the states. no international license. no license to drive a scooter. no insurance. hmmmmm. very rarely can you pay a paltry $150 to make something go away. after paying my debts and briefly seeing my life flash before my eyes, i decided to get back on and keep truckin. gotta get back on the horse, right? i am happy to report that i didn't hit anything else for the rest of our trip. we traversed the winding roads of rural bali, stopping every so often to take in the vast sprawl of rice fields around us. we also visited the "elephant caves." don't get too excited. there weren't real elephants there. it's named after ganesh, one of the hindu gods which is, surprise surprise, embodied in elephant form. there, we found a temple, pools to wash oneself before entering the sacred caves, the biggest butterfly i've ever seen in my life, and literal caves where people can go to pray and make offerings. what fascinated me most was the hindu concept of three. they have a sort of idol where one can pray (and i think make offerings to as well?), and our tour guide explained that three is an extremely important number in the hindu tradition. the three statues we saw represent creator, protector, destroyer; birth, living, death; peace with people, the divine, and nature - the view of the world within these lenses of "three" is an integral part of hinduism. very interesting.

the next day, we decided to take a long bus ride and short flight to lombok, an island not far removed from bali. it is, by and large, the road less traveled, and we wanted to experience some true island living. upon arrival, we found our accommodations for the night and set out exploring. the island of lombok is even quieter than kuta. there are far fewer tourists, but the poverty is far more apparent than on bali. i noticed that many people have almost nothing. there are also several family farms with small shacks for people to live in. it made me feel like i had so much, seeing how little they lived with.

fun fact: did you know that indonesia has the world's largest muslim population? while the island of bali is hindu, the other islands are muslim. also, did you know that people get up to pray in mosques at absurd hours like 3am? i discovered this because my hotel was next door to a mosque. wowy, prayer is noisy!

we had a delicious authentic indonesian meal, and explored our options for our stay on lombok? scuba diving or mountain climbing? scuba diving or mountain climbing? choices, choices. i had decided against scuba diving, so i left it up to the guys to decide what they wanted. if they decided to take the courses to get their padi certifications, i would either climb a mountain by myself or spend my days snorkeling, swimming, or lying on the beach. finally, we reached a consensus: we would all climb... nay, conquer... nay, bitch slap... mount rinjani. we'd already done some recreational mountain climbing in taipei. how hard could it be, right?

...i'm actually surprised to be alive after that climb.


nobody warned us about what we'd be facing, and that we would need a fair amount of materials to make this trip comfortable, if not simply possible. materials like: sweatshirts, strong hiking boots with excellent arch support, long pants, and maybe a month of steady conditioning. the trail began easy enough... climbing over roots and up a few gentle slopes. but as we progressed, the mountain became a monster of its own. by the time we realized what we were facing, we couldn't turn back... we'd come too far! we'd marched too much to turn back, but the mountain was getting steeper by the step. it began as probably a 25 degree climb for the first quarter, which then evolved into 45. that's okay, we could deal. but the next leg - the leg after lunch - was something like 50 degrees. i was so tired, i wanted to simply pass out. i'd felt like i'd lost all will to keep moving, much less keep breathing. i suppose what kept me going was chris' unfortunate bout with what can only be described as dysentery. and chad was climbing in berkenstocks. surely, if they could keep moving, i could do it too. we finally reached post 3, about 3/4 up the mountain. we would make camp there, eat dinner, then rise early the next morning to make the last 1/4 trek up to the rim at sunrise. after that, we would hike down to the bottom. unfortunately, i had a few thin sweaters that i managed to layer to generate a paltry extra heat, chris was still suffering, and chad had only his sarong, which he wore as a cape for warmth. it was a long, blustery night for us. while the company that we were going through provided a guide, porters, food, and camping equipment, we were otherwise ill-equipped for this journey. chris got his own tent, which was probably good because he was feeling so sick, so chad and i shared, and probably got about 3 hours worth of sleep combined. we shivered and turned all night long trying to generate enough warmth to go to sleep. parts of my body were so hot, they were sweating, while other extremities were so cold, they had goose bumps. somehow, we made it through our night of misery and arose in the still of darkness for the last leg of our climb. the air was the cleanest i've ever breathed. the forest was so quiet it was almost deafening. the stars were brighter than i'd ever seen them. God's glory abounded. we witnessed the sun peaking up over the mountains of bali and the ocean as we hiked. however, this hike felt pretty much vertical, on loose sand and rock. but we're troopers, and we made it to the top. looking inside an active volcano is an experience i'll never forget. everything was so green and huge and beautiful. we breathed a sigh of victory as we shivered uncontrollably in the morning cold. after about an hour marveling at the top, we headed back down to base camp. okay, so the walk down was more of a stumble/slide. i may have scars forever.

verdict? totally worth it.

at base camp, we received transport to one of the ports at lombok so that we could take a boat to the gigi islands, a few desolate beaches about 45 minutes away. on the gigis, there are no motor vehicles, and everything moves a little more slowly. the ocean is clear and the sand is white. we arrived at the port, which is a whole lot of desperation crammed into one place. everywhere, people want to carry your bags, sell you something, do anything to extract money from you. they don't even ask. they see a car pull up, and they ambush it to carry your bags so that they can charge you. finally, we managed to escape and head to gigi. in transit, we met a friendly bar promoter named jules, who helped us find our way around the island. he knew good places to go, and was generally good company. we located an adequate place to sleep, and spent the rest of the night exploring the islands, eating, and having a few drinks. unfortunately, our trek in rinjani severely caught up to me on the islands. i woke up the next day with horrible stiffness and the worst hangover i've ever experienced. i hadn't even had much to drink the night before; it was something like 3 over the course of 6 or 7 hours. i'd simply been sipping, but it all hit me horribly the next day. i think it did not mix with my fatigue and dehydration, and it produced a very uncomfortable, persistent nausea all day long. it wasn't even intense, just a prolonged discomfort. chad was also struck with the same rigor mortis-like qualities in his limbs, and we both waddled from place to place. we couldn't even go up and down stairs without bracing ourselves. as is typical with our relationship, though, we thought it was a fun game to hit each other in the thighs unexpectedly, just to elicit a response. why? team-building, we say. chris, fortunately, didn't have the same problems. he actually recovered quite well from our trek, and i'm pretty sure he deserved it after 2 days of misery. he did, however, take a tremendous (and possibly cruel) amount of pleasure laughing at chad and me as we crept along and grimaced. nevertheless, we spent a relaxing day on the beach sipping cold fresh fruit drinks and wading in and out of the water. there's something so therapeutic about the ocean for me. simply being in it makes me feel alive... like the world is exactly the way it was meant to be.

after a morning and afternoon of leisure, we headed back to lombok via boat and to bali via plane for one more night in kuta. chris treated us all to a resort and a beautiful hotel room and we had a delicious dinner. apparently, i crashed as soon as we returned to our room from dinner, but i must say that it was the deepest and most complete sleep i've had in a long while.

the next day, we wandered around bali for a few hours. chad and i had one last balinese massage, and we all bid indonesia goodbye.

indonesia is beautiful and exotic. i only wish we'd had more time to do the scuba diving and surfing, but perhaps another day. this trip was incredible, and i'm so glad i went. i feel like my world opened up even more, and i'm hoping that my heart opened a little more with it. i wouldn't change a thing.




...except maybe the scooter accident.

psalm moves me

today, our most precious arlee died. i feel a little as though this really isn't happening. i grieve for her family. and i worry about my mother. arlee was her closest, dearest friend. the truth of the matter is:
we all loved arlee. she was one of my favorite people, because whenever i saw her, she emitted a joyful spirit and always had something nice to say. she's one of those people who made you feel good all the time, because she tried to see the positive in everything. every time i saw arlee, she made me feel as though i was doing something beautiful or profound or important with my life. when i told her how i felt about taiwan and the peace corps... that it all had to do with this idea that has been in the back of my head... this concept of praying without ceasing. this idea that i make more of a difference if i do rather than if i simply be an activist for all the causes in which i believe... she told me that it sounded right to her... it wasn't crazy... and that i should definitely, definitely, definitely stick by it. none of my romantic ideals or abstract agendas or uncertainties or holistic approaches to faith ever seemed absurd when arlee was around... she always made me feel like i was going to do something significant for the kingdom of God. she believed in following the Lord sincerely and whole-heartedly, without pretension or expectation, as best you can and with your entire being. most importantly, she made my mum feel like herself. every day with arlee made my mother see the beauty and glory of God's creation... that we could extract joy from even the simplest elements of God's grandeur. any day that my mum was with arlee was a precious day, and each interaction made her a more complete human, a lover of all that God had made her. in every way, arlee coaxed kindness and beauty from the world around her.

today, even before i found out, while i stood watch for chris' crazy neighbor while he packed his clothes, i felt compelled to read psalm 91. for some reason, these were words i felt i needed to experience today.
He who dwells in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress; Mmy God, in Him I will trust." Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the perilous pestilence. He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day, nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday. A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand; but it shall not come near you. Only with your eyes shall you look, and see the reward of the wicked. Because you have made the Lord, who is my refuge, even the Most High, your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, nor shall any plague come near your dwelling; for He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone. You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra, the young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot. Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high because he has known My name. He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and humor him. With long life I will satisfy him, and show him My salvation.

movement

"God works in mysterious ways."
or so the saying goes.

today was an odd day. a day when i had the distinct feeling that i was exactly where God wanted me. one of those days when nothing really went my way, but for one reason or another, i had the fortitude to keep trying. what i want, i'm not sure. what i'm meant for, i scarcely know. could today have been a preview?