a higher form of insurance

I really like this blog. In her most recent entry she asks when the Church stopped being 'edgy'. One of the comments on her blog was from a bishop (at least the username was bishop) who said that the Church lost her edginess when: "faith stopped being about taking on risk and became a higher form of Insurance." I think this sentiment is spot on. If we see faith as an assurance of our 'safety' in the afterlife than we are no longer compelled by the spirit to take risks, but are instead complacent paying our monthly premiums and waiting for the big payoff in the end. It also becomes imperative that everyone buy into your insurance scheme because you have found the 'ultimate' safety. This type of faith is very comforting. It is also very straightforward. If you do this, then the result is that. Faith is a stumbling block and a difficult gift from God. It is not something that we can beat into people.

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However in my experiences I have found that God is not that straightforward. When I was in high school I thought I would be a film or play director. (I was even accepted into a prestigious school for their directing program). I decided to move out to LA and began my University career at Occidental College. There I fell in love with Politics and God. My life has forever been changed. I was not expecting to become a Christian activist, but when we follow the spirit we are surprised and amazed and happy. We get much more out of our relationship with God than we could ever put in. Our faith is much more than final Insurance, it is a way of life.

finally back into blogging

This past week has been rather plain. For a few weeks work was very stressful and I was working more than 40 hours a week. Now work has calmed down. I'm only working 32 hours a week. I have time to cook and think about what I want to cook. I have time to read books (Agatha Christie most recently). I have time to catch up on TV. (I'm completely caught up on Doctor Who!). I have time to write (hence my last two 'creative' entries). I have time even to go out with friends. I have time to blog. I am finally feeling like having a plain week is a good thing here in Austin.

Thursday was my cousin's birthday and so to celebrate we went to see a show. We saw the play, Bug. The play deals with the seedy underworld that most of us ignore, when we can. The whole play is set in a bug-infested motel room outside of Oklahoma City. This production was done by a local theater company and was clearly not Broadway. However, I found the play itself to be mesmerizing. The script was incredible. The characters were real and seedy and lovable and hate-able and disgusting and endearing. (The play was made into a movie in 2006).

I have been thinking about sanity since I watched it. On another note about sanity (or the difference between reality and dreams) I saw A Midsummer Night's Dream again this weekend. Every year Austin Shakespeare puts on a free play in the park. I was reminded of how amazingly good Shakespeare is. His plays are just truly splendid.

more 'creative' stuff...

There was nothing left to be said. They sat in silence waiting for his ride to come. They had chatted about the weather. They had chatted about the construction on Government Blvd (“It's making traffic unbearable, really.” “I know, I can't stand it.”) They had chatted about everything they thought they could safely talk about. They had definitely not talked about the person coming to pick him up. They had definitely not talked about why he was there. Simply making small talk. Avoid all important subjects. If need be, one must sit uncomfortably in silence. One must never say what is really on one's mind. Small talk.

They sat in the waiting room, still waiting. The dusty clock above the receptionist's desk seemed to be ticking more loudly and more slowly than ever before. The second hand refused to move, as if tempting one of them to say something. Tempting one of them to break out of the limited small topics.

Really, there was nothing left to be said. Nick knew why James was here. James knew why Nick was here. James knew that in any moment she would pull up outside and Nick would leave with a simple, “Cheers” or “See you” and it would all be over. Or perhaps it would end with the nurse calling out “James T. Green”. He would simply wave and go behind that cheap wooden door. They both knew that any further comments would simply be inappropriate. Any further comments would destroy the illusion that neither one knew.

A chirping of a mechanic bird came from Nick's pocket. He was halfway standing as he took the phone out and looked at it. He sat back down. If it weren't pouring out he would have just gone outside, but going outside in this weather just to avoid the heavy silence between them was unthinkable. Worst storm in a 100 years, the weatherman had said. It seemed like he said that every summer. It had been raining that day. James had even had the audacity to ask about Amy. He had been casual. Pretending that he was asking just about a woman that he had known a few years back. Of course, Nick's response had seemed just as casual, but they both knew the truth. There was nothing left to be said.

memories

She opened her eyes. She still couldn't remember. It all looked familiar. As if she had dreamt of it in another dream that she couldn't remember. The small carvings in the molding of the plaster ceiling. The paint peeling back from the left corner where the leak from the bathroom above proved too much to handle. Even the small oval photograph that sat, dusty, on the dresser reminded her of what she could not remember.

The birds chirping outside the partially open window seemed to say, “I'm here. I'm here.” As if they knew that her memories were there even if she could not access them.

She closed her eyes.

She opened them again to look at the man sleeping next to her. What was his name? He had reminded her again yesterday. Tony. Yes. That was it. Tony. Or was it Adam? It was Tony.

Tony. Their pictures hung everywhere in this house. The photo of them at Disney World. Her hugging Arielle – who was her favorite Disney Character. She could tell you Arielle's life story, but not her own. The photos of their wedding. Them – outside – her leaning against a tree and him leaning over her just kissing her ear. The whole family standing in front of a beautiful Church. She didn't even know where that Church was located, much less what it was called. Tony had kindly pointed out her mother, her brother and then his father and mother and brothers and sisters. He had gently gone through all the aunts, uncles, grandparents and other various relatives on both sides. She knew she'd never remember them all. Yet they are her family. Are they family if you don't know they're family?

She had asked about her Dad.

“Where's my Dad?

“Oh, God.”

“What?”

“He died.”

“What? When? How? What?”

“You were 23. He was 61. It was a car accident.”

“I don't care. I mean, I do, but right now I feel like you're telling me that the Prime Minister of India died when I was 23. I don't remember him. Oh God – will I ever remember him? What if I never remember my father? What if my memories never come back? What will we do?”

She had said that phrase so many times in the past three days. “What will we do?” Somehow, this man, Tony, was still answering all her questions. He must truly love her.

She had spent most of these past days willing herself to remember. It was like trying to remember a dream. The more you try the less you remember. Every time she thought she remembered something she'd ask Tony.

“Is my brother named Joe?”

“No. He's Mick.”

“Oh, right. Mick. Who's Joe?”

“We don't know anybody named Joe, except the old priest at Church.”

She closed her eyes.

She opened her eyes. She still couldn't remember.

writing

In college I took a creative writing class. I really loved it. (You can see all my work on my old blog in some of the entries between January and May of 2006). I have begun writing again. I've started writing some stuff that I really like, however, I have not shown it to anyone yet. I feel that it somehow reveals something about me. I don't know what or how, but I feel like it is personal. I can write, in depth, about my life, about what I am planning to do and God, but yet, as soon as I write a piece that is completely fictional I feel vulnerable and naked. I will post one of the short pieces that I wrote a few weeks ago. I need to type it up first, but in a few days.

In looking through my old blog - I found this post from March 2007. I think it still explains how I feel about writing.

Writing is a way of life for me.

thinking about education

I have been having conversations about education recently. As many of you may know, I am hugely in debt because of my four year degree. I am also incredibly grateful and happy that I have that degree. I believe it was the right choice for me. However, my family is a very educated family. My mother has a master's degree. Both of my grandparent's on my Dad's side have college degrees, even my great grandfather had a degree! (little fact about my family, my great-grandfather, grandfather, grandmother, two my brothers and my sister-in-law all went to the same college in Shreveport, Louisiana.) Really, it would be strange, considering my family history if I did not have a college degree.

All that being said, I believe that there are different types of knowledge. One is the type that you receive through an education at a university, but there are many other types as well. The knowledge you receive from your family. The knowledge you gain through employment. The knowledge you acquire through friendships. The knowledge that comes from life experiences. The knowledge imparted from elders. The knowledge you learn from on-the-job training. All of these types of knowledge are important, and none is more valuable than the other. In our society, we have placed monetary and societal significance on College education, however, that education is just one type of education. We are limiting ourselves and students when we limit "real" education to having a four year degree.

In the US there is a push now for alternatives to four year college. I just read this article in the New York times. I think it is imperative that we develop an alternative to the four year college system for some students. However, we cannot do that while saying that 'under achieving' or 'less desirable' students can complete these other courses. No, we must fully believe (and fund) other, practical, alternatives to four year college. We must move forward and see that knowledge is not based on your ability to take a test, but instead is measured in a myriad of ways. Trying to force all students into the University track only increases the chance of failure of some students and brings other students down because professors are overburdened. I hope that the US can find a way to embrace the idea that all skills and knowledge are equally valuable and that we should not only put monetary value and societal worth on the four year college degree.

life changes through buying

I have done a lot of things in my life. I've lived in foreign countries, I've learned a foreign language, I've traveled to Africa, Asia and Europe. I've lived in Los Angeles, Chicago and San Francisco. I've been to New York. I've climbed the great wall of China. I've eaten Dim Sum in Hong Kong. I've been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I've looked out over the Swiss and French Alps. I've done a lot of amazing things in my life. I've brought in the new year in Cape Town, South Africa. I've seen a film at the Cannes Film Festival.

I'm not saying this to brag. I'm saying this because I'm now doing something that I've never done before. All of these things I mention involve travel and going to new places and experiencing new foods and seeing the world in a blur as I go from one place to the next. I have not lived in one place in this globe for more than a year. Even in college, I would go every summer and then return starting my new "year". Since college I have moved from Los Angles to France to Geneva to Texas. Texas. Texas. It is much less glamorous than Cannes, Los Angles or Geneva, but I am enjoying the "American grittiness" of it. I'm really moving here. When I moved here I knew I was coming back "for good" but at the same time I kept my eye on the horizon looking for the next opportunity to take me abroad so that I might continue my fast paced, fascinating, interesting life. Yet, I am here and I am here for the foreseeable (well at least until 2011) future.

I know, now, that I am living here because I made two purchases this week of a nature that I have never made before. On Monday, I began my search for a car. I had never bought a car before this week. My uncle, who has bought innumerable cars helped me in this process and we in fact bought the very first car we found. On Monday, I ended my car search. Yesterday, on Friday, I bought a bed. I know it's not big, but I've never bought furniture before. I have never needed to furnish a place because I was never there long enough to need my "own" furnishings.

I now know that I am entering a new phase of my life because I have bought these items. I must live in a consumer driven society because I am basing my recognition of my changes through what I purchase.

Godliness

I went to theology on tap last week. Theology on Tap is a program of St. David's young adult ministry. (please note that I do not currently attend St. David's). The idea is that we meet once a month at a bar and talk about God and stuff. I've been twice now. I really like it.

This week our conversation turned to the topic of Godliness. (we were supposed to be talking about recreation and God). We went around our table of 5 and defined what makes a Godly life. (This table included me, a professional photographer, her husband - a theology student, an applied math PHD student and a writer/business student). The answers were all different and interesting. I started with "Peace with yourself, God and others." The next answer was very vague, "Any action that is in accordance with God's will" (okay I'm paraphrasing that one). Then next answer was "Living your life so that you are more like Christ every day, through the sacraments of the Church." The math student sitting next to me said that living a Godly life was "living out God's plan for you life in joy." There was a clear distinction between living out some plan you thought God had for your life and being miserable and living out that plan which brought you joy. Finally my friend, the photographer, said that "emptying yourself to love God's people." was a Godly life.

Our conversation was so fascinating because we all had such different ideas of what a Godly life is and most of our answers were not concrete. I personally, think that anyone can live a Godly life whether or not they go to Church or believe in Christ or are of some other faith. My friend who said that living Godly life was dependent on being part of Church would highly disagree. We were able to be in discussion and listen and respect the other opinion. Over our beer and gin and tonics (and delicious enchiladas) we were able to discuss these ideas and talk about the freedom in Christ and be in true conversation. I have missed that since I've been back in Texas. While in Geneva I was surrounded by people who were aware of and exploring faith in amazing ways - but here I had not yet found people that I connected with on a spiritual level. It's refreshing to hear and see and experience a spiritual friendship. I hadn't even realized how much I needed that until I experienced it again.

I am so thankful that I am beginning to find Godly friends here.

computers

While I lived in France I did not have a computer. This didn't really bother me. I was living in a foreign country everything was exciting and new. I would use the 'mediateque' to check my email twice a week. It was on my way home from where I worked. Twice a week was fine for me. I did what I needed to do. If I was really in a pinch and NEEDED to do something on the internet I could pay for it at a cyber cafe. In Geneva I would go for weekends without the internet because my computer stayed in the office. I also did even have access at my residence until I had lived there for months. I did not seem to mind this limited access. Yet, once I returned to the US, somehow internet became a part of my everyday activities. I could not live for more than three hours without checking my email (both my personal and my work account), facebook, and couchsurfing. Luckily, I never took up twitter. Even going to work for 8 hours was a challenge for me.

Then my computer broke. Luckily, a friend lent me a computer so that I could finish the work I was contracted to do for the World Council of Churches. Then a few days after Easter, after my project ended, she needed her computer. I was computerless. I was going to give in and buy a computer, but a friend of mine said "My boyfriend can fix it." Three weeks later he has my computer and I am at the library. He is working on it, but it's in 'bad shape'. We'll see if he can fix it or not. We'll see if I buy a computer in the next few weeks, amid the many other things I have to buy (bedroom furniture, a car and perhaps a plane ticket).

Yet, all of this to say that perhaps not having access to the internet 24/7 is a good thing. I've used a phone book twice in the past three days! I have called and talked to people rather than using the internet to show me the information I wanted. I have spent much more time with my Aunt and Uncle. Perhaps not having a computer has been a blessing. Perhaps.... but somehow I still want one.

time off from blogging

I'm sorry for the long absence from this blog. I honestly will try and write more, but I think i have a decent excuse - My computer is broken. So I am computerless at the moment. I am borrowing my uncle's computer to write this message.

My life feels like it has been a bit hectic. I'm working quite a bit. I do like my job, most of the time. I am sometimes tired of it, but overall, I am happy to have a job and I see myself working there for the foreseeable future.

I've also started volunteering. I like my volunteer work. (I don't have much experience with people experiencing poverty - except for my personal experience of growing up without much money - but that is very different from poverty - at least in my mind, perhaps it is because my family is so educated.. but I digress). I try to volunteer once a week at a homeless service center here in Austin. I really like it. We serve breakfast to women in the mornings. Many of the women do not look "homeless". Many of them do. Many of them are clearly mentally unfit, others are as educated as me. Others need help getting their appointments to go to the doctor others just need someone to listen to them. I try to remember that a little piece of God is in every one of us. Myself and each person I meet. We were all created in God's image. That means we're all sacred - even if I want to see them as less than me or God.

Through my volunteer work I made a friend who invited me Saturday night to hear Immaculee Ilibagiza speak about her experiences during the Rwandan Holocaust in 1994. She is a very powerful speaker. Her story centers on her journey during that harrowing time and how she discovered God through it. If you have not read her book, Left to Tell, I would highly recommend it to you. I am always so fascinated by people who have lived through Hell and yet come out singing the praises of God. Sometimes those of us who have privilege and live relatively easy lives find it hard to praise God for the every day miracles in our lives. Hearing her laugh as she talked about her childhood in Rwanda is more moving than all the statistics about how many people were killed. She lost her entire family (except one brother who was out of the country when the killing started) yet she is able to laugh and joke and enjoy what she has now. She truly has freedom through the forgiveness of Jesus Christ.

She said one thing that really struck me. I'll leave you with this quote:

If you must choose between being kind and being right - choose kindness.