Pacific Driftwood

Viaje Medico 2011

2012-01-24T13:04:00.002-05:00

I forgot I wrote during the med trip in Bolivia--found it in one of my notebooks.

Viaje Medico, November 2011

Mapiri, Bolivia

I've been working triage. I wish I knewmore Spanish, but at the same time I'm happy that I am at least ableto communicate after only a month down here. Triage is busy, but funand beneficial for me. I hope our visitors are receiving the helpthey need, and, if not possible, I hope they at least are able tolook into caring eyes or be touched by compassionate hands. This iswhat I long for. I hate seeing pain, but I would rather see pain thanbe oblivious to pain. There was a lady at triage yesterday who hadscars from being burned. Her skin had shrunk around her fingers somuch that she could no longer straighten them. She told me that shewas always in pain and at times while she would be walking in thestreet, she would fall down. ... I don't want that kind of pain to exist in life. I hate that it exists. And thisis what language does--allows pain to be shared, allows glimpses intohurting souls, and, my prayer is, somehow alleviates burdens. Andthat's about all that can be done in this life.

November 8, 2011

Santa Rosa, Bolivia

There's always onemore patient. So far, I will always try to find a way to meet theneeds of one more individual. Individuality is important to me forsome reason. Maybe because I grew up in an extremely rural arearather than a city? Could be. In cities there is more of an emphasison efficiency, and it's necessary to keep the system flowing. And asociety that is driven by efficiency, communication, teamwork, etc., leads to the Natural Wonders of the world. But individuality is lost.And this is why I think longer lasting Beauty is often found byturning around and walking against the flow of the spinning world.Finding Beauty in simple things, seeing value in individuals, usingcompassion as a motivating force.

November 8, 2011

Conzata, Bolivia

It was fun playing futbol with the kidshere. I'm thankful for being able to communicate better than the lasttrip. I'm thankful for every word I've learned. I'm thankful forhealth, no sprained ankles, no weariness, no fevers. I'm thankfulfor my lack of comforts...it causes an emphasis to be placed onrelationships, the people surrounding me. Tomorrow is the beginningof a four-day hike into the jungle villages. Should be hardcore.

November 12, 2011

Memiconi, Bolivia

It's funny that I sprained my ankle theday after I wrote that I was thankful for no sprained ankles. Isprained it early in the morning while playing basketball. That daywe began our four-day hike. It was fine, really. It hurt, and that'sall. I could still walk, just without agility.

I loved the hike. There was one superhardcore part after the waterfall Odell and I jumped off. I didn'thave any water the whole time, so I was really dehydrated at the endand just sat lethargically on the bags. But the scenery is amazing,the remoteness is amazing, the people are amazing.

November 13, 2011

Conzata, Bolivia

It's like trying to take pictures of abreathtaking view--words convey so much and yet are confined soimmensely to our individual skulls, outside of which true meaningand true image drop sharply into a simple and earthly communicableexpression. Life in the Amazon is fascinating.

2011-12-19T02:46:00.000-05:00

"Foreverything there is a season, and a time for every matter underheaven:

Atime to be born, and a time to die;

Atime to plant, and a time to reap;

Atime to kill, and a time to heal;

Atime to break down, and a time to build up;

Atime to weep, and a time to laugh;

Atime to mourn, and a time to dance;

Atime to throw stones, and a time to gather stones;

Atime to embrace, and a time to part;

Atime to seek, and a time to lose;

Atime to tear, and a time to sew;

Atime to keep silent, and a time to speak;

Atime to love, and a time to hate;

Atime for war, and a time for peace."

"Godwill make His home among his people. He will wipe all tears fromtheir eyes, and there will be no more death, no more suffering, nomore crying, no more pain. These things of the past are goneforever."

2011-12-05T02:23:00.001-05:00

December 4, 2011

It's too much. Sometimes the sensoryoverloads my mind. Too many new places, too many new scenes, too manynew faces. It feels like I'm missing so much by seeing so much. Ilove every moment; I just regret that my mind can be in only onemoment in Time, the Great Thief and Hoarder. There is so much more toknow and so much more to remember. It is as if every time I open myeyes, I am taken captive to a new dream, a new breathtaking vista, anew wave of thoughts crashing down on those former. And if there wereever a beauty in transience, I am the lowly guest sitting placidlyunderneath the grand orchestra of all things magnificent that Motionably bears. To let the eye roam through thick jungle mountains, to beled atop the jagged glaciers, to wander for hours across desertterrain, to hop freely from star to star, to know the moment oflaughter disclosed through the eyes around me--all a microcosm of mywandering mind, my time-traveling thoughts, my hopes, my dreams forthe future, for my beautiful friends, for the kids in theorphanage--let the eyes find what is Good and never let go.

Different Places

2011-11-28T15:33:00.001-05:00

More from the Project Helping Hands Trip 2011:

In a lot of ways, I have quit thinkingof how different my Bolivian experiences are from my Americanexperiences. But I will try to recall a few of these differences--

I ran around with the kids in onevillage to collect giant ants to eat. You don't eat the whole ant,because they have pinchers that hurt, so it's better to tear off onlythe abdomen to pop in your mouth. I don't know how to describe thetaste really. Tastes like an ant, I guess. Kinda gooey?

On our bus ride I would lean out thewindow of the bus on the turns just in case it tipped over--unless itwas tipping my way. But for the bad turns we usually just ended upunloading everyone anyway, just to be safe. In the end the bus nevertipped over. So, it all worked out perfectly.

My showers usually consisted of jumpingoff a cliff into a waterfall or else just finding a nice swimminghole if the cliffs weren't big enough. That's different from myAmerican life. I don't really shower in America.

I was apathetic about where I slept. Sosometimes I would throw my sleeping bag and sleep wherever it landed.Worked well. In the States I usually sleep in a bed.

I gave coca another chance. I washoping it would take away the pain in my ankle which I sprained themorning we began our 4-day trek. The saliva just made me drink lesswater, which was helpful in that I didn't have to stop hiking as muchto drink water. It makes my mouth numb, but I don't feel less tired or less pain. I'm beginning to think coca simply operates on the placebo effect.

2011-11-21T12:41:00.001-05:00

November something, 2011

I feel obligated to write somethingabout the Project Helping Hands medical-mission trip. Our teams, madeup of medical professionals from the States and Bolivian translators,hiked into remote mountain villages in the Amazon basin to conductmini medical clinics. In many ways it was a typical Bolivianmedical-mission trip, i.e. there was a high level of risk,spontaneity, and un-American situations involved. But allowingexpectations to roam free with the wind works wonders for the mind,body and soul. Seizing every moment, running into the unknown fullspeed, allowing every new raw and rugged view to take one's breathaway--this is where Life feels real. I loved every moment of thetrip. In many of the villages there were only a handful of people whospoke Spanish; the rest spoke Quechuan, and we were dependent on theQuechuan translators to run our mini-clinics. The thought occurred tome that on this trip I could claim to be the most remote I have everbeen in the world, second only to where I was raised in North Dakota,of course. But it's a crazy feeling to be surrounded by nothingexcept continuous mountain vegetation for as far as the eye can see.There's always the feeling of wishing more could be done in theremoteness. How useful is it to give them a month's supply ofmedication as temporary pain relief when they need so much more? Butthese people were thankful that we had recognized them, and I wouldlike to believe that that somehow holds value as well. It's a hope.

On the trip I went on last year inSanta Cruz I was focused on learning about the Bolivian mindset--howthe system works, how communities live, how life flows. On this trip,however, I couldn't help but take a psychological approach to figureout the American mindset. My initial thoughts are that the concept ofComfort is deeply engrained in the American's mind, maybe even DNA.It is the overarching end goal of hopes, dreams, aspirations for thefuture. It is the cultural subconsciousness, and to voice thisconstant labor for Comfort chips away at any nobility left in theAmerican Dream. It sounds lame to sacrifice everything for Comfort.It sounds more noble to call it Security or Opportunity or Success.But whatever it is, it seems obvious that being happy outside theconfines of Comfort takes a new perspective, one that isn't taught inthe education system in America nor by the media nor even by manyparents. Did Adaptability get left behind in the fine-tuning of asystem that radiates Opportunity and Wealth and Efficiency to so manyneedy areas of the world? And at this point it feels like holding acertain ideality above another would simply depend on one'sunderlying philosophical beliefs. Is it bad to strive for Comfort? Isit better to strive for Adaptability? Depends on what Life is for.

I rest my Hope in the idea that Lifegains its value not from what any eye can see, but from the hiddenBeauty, the compassion in one's heart, the sacrifice in one's deeds,every moment of friendship, the smiles in a game of futbol, theindividuality of each person walking the high Amazon trails everyday, the satisfaction in seeing a new waterfall or mountain peak.It's a Hope.

2011-10-30T00:28:00.001-04:00

October 10, 2011

I guess if I were to stop and think, Iwould discover a peace, a quiet happiness and contentment in thelatest string of Moments. Life is good now. I am immersed in landuncharted by my own eyes, I am immersed in nature, raw and inspiring,I am immersed in a simple life that lacks so many comforts that claimbeautiful lives by the thousands, I am learning, constantly, word byword. Thanks, God. For this Moment. Be in this Moment. Let anotherlanguage hurdle be set on fire, never to hinder again. But more thanthat, speak where no words can go, speak to what sets ablaze passion,speak Life into places where None exists. I feel peace here. Doesthat mean something? I don't think my Home is across the sea fromthis Moment, where I was born and learned about life. For somereason, I think it's in a simple place, that is bursting with Beautyat its seams, where impressive man-made structures always come insecond place, and the smell of dirty children is always at myside--maybe this is Life.

Another Night, Another Day

2011-10-06T17:11:00.000-04:00

It was just another night. My head goeson a pillow, or something similar, and then my eyes close. But thebarely conscious flashbacks had a different theme. I was always nearan edge, balancing--always the feeling of the Moment, the exactmoment, when one decides to let go of the comfort of solid ground andfly. Jumping over crevices, displacing pebbles on the cliff, watchingthe cliff pebbles float far away into whatever will catch them. Theconstant replays in my mind were my last waking thoughts before beingnailed into hard sleep; like a bug's final thoughts before being hitby a semi-truck on a highway. The hard sleep--it could very well havebeen the aftereffects of two straight days of the adrenaline-coatedbridge/cliff jumps--the barely conscious replays, for certain, were aproduct of this perpetual string of cliff moments. A simple lack ofsleep would also fill the role of culprit quite nicely--we (my Bolivianfriend Odell and I) didn't necessarily plan to arrive back in La Pazat 5 am--but then again, we didn't plan anything really. After thewaterfall jumps, we trekked back to the road. The Yungas Road snakesits way through the mountains from rugged La Paz to Caranavi in theAmazon Basin. It has a reputation, even earning the title "DeathRoad" for one stretch. But it gets the job done--as long as thedrivers are experienced and never blink. A single error at anymoment, however, has potential to hurl a bus or fully-loaded truckdown 2,000-ft of jungle vegetation.

It had just gotten dark, and now weneeded to find a ride back to La Paz. We managed a ride to the nextvillage so that we could at least eat food and drink water after ahard day of trekking. It wasn't too long--only two hours--before wefound a truck headed to La Paz. The driver was gracious and allowedus to hop on. The truck was loaded with crates of empty beer bottles.I discovered that crates are actually pretty comfortable if you lieon your back and distribute your body weight over several crates. Tothe right, vertical cliff up; to the left, vertical cliff down;overhead, stars of the night sky. It was one of those moments where Icould tell myself "See--life's not that bad." Alive in another beautiful Moment in time.

Odell told me that we should sit on themid-beam during the "sketch parts" so that we wouldhave the option to jump "just in case." But everything wentsmoothly. As in, we didn't die. The ride was nothing even close tosmooth. The truck driver turned out to be a really cool guy. He letus ride in the cab over the La Cumbre Pass so that we wouldn't freezeto death--as far as packing clothes go, it's kinda inconvenient totravel from jagged, trees-can't-live mountains to the tropical jungleand then back again. Odell and I chewed coca leaves to stay awakethrough the night hours, but I don't think coca is for me. It workedin the sense that my whole mouth was numb; however, it seemed to haveno effect on my melatonin levels--I had to fight for every moment ofconsciousness. Like I said, the driver was a cool guy and we wereable to talk with him the whole way. He drives the Yungas about everyother day and chews candy to stay awake because coca has no effect onhim either. So yeah, we got back late. La Paz isn't categorized as asafe city, so we still had to make it through La Plaza Villaroel to findcivilization, but more importantly, a taxi, so that we could get backto a roof, water, and bananas (while waiting for a ride earlier, bothquadriceps cramped up while swimming across ariver and I couldn't move--never want to experience that again). Fortunately, none of the Villaroel murderers were out at 5 am that morning--no murderers, nor anyoneelse for that matter. We made it. We ate bananas, tried to get thecoca bits out of our teeth, and crashed into a world ofsubconsciously re-lived adventures from the jungle. The end ofanother night, another day.

Stuff

2011-10-01T01:20:00.000-04:00

I think Faith should be sought, but not conformed to. Not something for which one trains, nor a product of lifestyle--it is a gift from Heaven. Given, not taken. Saul received Faith on his way to kill. Peter received Faith while fishing--as someone who failed to pass the "greatness" test, a betrayer, scum. Faith is created where None exists, and that's kinda a beautiful thing.

2011-08-19T02:27:00.005-04:00

"Only words, words; to be led out to battle against other words."

Plague of Perfection

2011-07-09T21:57:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, it all feels like garbage.

Why does a thought have to be articulable to be worthy? All of our "most precious" traits are acquired. It's how well we excel, it's our list of accomplishments, it's how we learn to separate ourselves from the group. "It's not artistic enough", "It's not succinct enough", "It's not innovative enough" -- The ordinary isn't worth anyone's time.

It doesn't feel perfect. Like when you're a kid, and you have to draw a happy picture -- this somehow doesn't fit into the happy picture.

Why write?

It's all garbage.

Time Travel

2011-05-02T00:19:00.002-04:00

Thoughts on the past:

Sometimes I wish I could travel back in time. But I don't know what I would do, really. Laugh at the same jokes again. Look at my favorite faces again. Stand there, awkwardly, thinking to myself "Do other people know about this?!" the whole time. It's hard to predict.

Thoughts on the future:

Last week I listened to a Harvard psychology professor talk about findings comparing two cognitive tasks: 1) projecting oneself into "others' shoes" and 2) thinking about oneself in the future. Results: both tasks engage basically the same areas of the brain. One could say that we tend to see the projection of our "future self" as a different person--our biology leaves us with only hypothetical inferences into our future mental states.

Thoughts on the present:

In high school I remember being brave, strong, and the envy of all nations. With fresh thoughts, I took my first tiptoed steps across hot coals, arms clenched full of beautifully folded origami dreams. I am only one thought in one place in one moment, a worm eating and pooping soil underneath a divine orchestra. I cannot seize my future and am, at a worm's pace, realizing that I would not wish my future into my fickle and fleshly hands to be carried upon frail, bared feet, blistered in the summer heat, bitten by the frosty night. Is this a mindset derived from failure? Maybe. There are the moments I imagine what it might be like to be a genius--to succeed in whatever endeavor one undertakes simply due to blessed neural networks, maybe from the perfect combination of childhood conditions and inherited genetic sequences. And maybe here I should say something eloquent about how failure teaches perseverance and humility, and in doing so fashions stronger men, more affectionate women, and inculcates deeper empathy for fellow humans. The truth is I long for perfection in all my strivings, which only succeeds in giving me a keen sense of my own imperfection in all my strivings. So, if ever presented with the hypothetical choice, I would choose to be better than what I am, in art, in music, in writing, in science, in muscle mass, in empathy, in skin color, in smell. Would this make the path to the future an easier one? I don't know. I'm tired of thinking hypothetically--it opens up endless, useless divergences.

Perspectives:

The point is that there is Freedom in the Moment that I am, a Freedom to choose the eyes I will use, a Perspective to utilize and, at times, share. My arsenal is the perpetual culmination of past experiences--failures, accomplishments, passions, attitudes, weaknesses, ideas, mindsets, knowledge of the world. Contrary to what I believed when I used to sit in pews as a kid, the world from a distance is gray, not black and white. I think the blackness and whiteness is at a much more implicit level than what one individual mind can observe, which happens to render most judgements about the motives of neighbors inane and obsolete. A good lesson here would be: Just don't do it, ever. There are so many other more useful things to use one's brain for. Where do the gray shades come from though? I think there are good perspectives and bad perspectives in the Moment one owns. Bad perspective: Why the hell does everyone and everything in the world exist to make my life miserable? Good perspective: Cool. It's a nice day. There might be more, but they are all probably just derivations of these two.

Cross-country Musings: Day 12

2011-04-15T00:02:00.004-04:00

Day 12: Washington DC
Spent the day hanging out with old friends and visiting museums in DC. Ben, Katie and I went to the Jefferson Memorial to celebrate Thomas Jefferson's 268th birthday. We miss you, Tom. The real reason we went was because Katie's husband Thomas is in the Honor Guards and had to help out in the wreath ceremony. He did a really good job at carrying the wreaths and standing and looking cool. So at least we got cool pictures of him out of the deal.

Thomas Jefferson was smart. He understood the dynamic process of thought. His worldview was bigger than just himself at one moment in time. He noticed that things in the past had changed, and he predicted that things in the future would change. So he said a lot of profound things along those lines. Ben said he likes monuments because they are monuments--they preserve a moment in time for longer than that moment. It's like a little glimpse into the past, which means it's free from the constant upheaval of culture, worldviews, values, passions, laws, etc.

Sometimes I get tricked into thinking that a lesson learned occurs at the peak of a mountain--once I learn, it's conquered territory. When I expound on that in my mind, I realize that's an unrealistic outlook. I don't learn a lesson and then merely move on to a different lesson, rather I learn a lesson and then learn it again, but in a slightly different context of thought each time. I remember in early high school, I felt worthless a lot. There was a time I felt I had lost/lacked the traits I valued. Important things, like being smart, artistic, athletic and popular among the ladies. That's a tough place to be in such a formative junction in life. And, actually, I attribute the inner strength I found during those emo times to a faith in God. Since high school, those thoughts have been known to slither their way back at times, wrapped in different contexts, different worldviews.
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Does anybody ever think about what shapes one's identity? Ben read a book on how millionaires think and it noted some key differences in millionaires' mindsets when compared to others. I'm going to keep all the secrets to myself. But one subpoint included in the discussion was that the middle-class mindset tends to associate the question "What do you do?" with who a person is. The profession determines one's identity. What if identity is deeper and transcends human accomplishment?
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"I'm living in the tombs." Abraham Lincoln was sentimental. Anybody quoted in a history museum would have to be sentimental, right? From reading President Abe's quotes, it seems that he was a man with strong ties to his past. He remembered. The juxtaposition of a childhood in a log cabin and a presidency during a civil war must have been extremely trippy for him.

Sometimes I question the value of sentimentality--it feels week. In a lot of ways, it seems to create isolating barriers more than kindred thoughts. But maybe the occasional kindred thoughts make it all worth it. Like finding a small ruby among endless sand dunes.
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I have been to a few museums/sites dedicated to the holocaust--Nuremburg, Berlin, Dachau--and it's always hard for me to relate to the content. It's unimaginable in my head. But what intrigues me are individuals' stories.

"Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never." Elie Wiesel's words reflect the depth of hopelessness in my opinion. I wonder if I would have given up hope in a situation that so clearly exploited humans' capacity for evil. My friends are good. They don't usually seek out death and destruction, so it's easy to forget that raw evil roams free sometimes. I would love to believe that I would cling to hope when all hope is lost. It feels right. Like what a little kid would do. But it's easy to forget pure things when you live longer than a childhood. I don't know. All there is is hope.
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I Looked Down

2011-02-21T18:52:00.001-05:00

I looked down to the ground
Worms swimming in my steps
I saw my feet, they knew this place
A stamp, a swift graze upon earth's face
Withered leaves and broken trees
Creatures huddling in decay
The path was mine, my steps the first
Floating freely where I please
My feet embodied in the mud
I was free to rule the world

I looked up at the stars
Thinking all the thoughts that men have thought
I tried to count, I stopped at four
I walked for hours, my path unknown
I kneeled down, yelled out loud
But words can't fly like balls of light
Can stars look upon a soul?
Do they look this way at all?
There were no sounds, I heard no sounds
I'm a worm underneath a symphony

Convinced of the vanity of my vain attempt
To lay my hand upon the Hand that lives above
(And before and after and below)
My corpse of walking dust, my forever loyal lust
My fatal rationality, I am no child, I know my world
Said I, struggling to feel the past I once knew so well

I look down at my feet
I see the remnants of decay
The heavens are too high for one like me
Though my feet rule all life's end
Where shall I cast my gaze?

Yet I stood
As one captured between the dream of hope and dismay
My feet in the mud, touched by the air that touched the sky
Held steady by the mercy of a Hand from afar

Boundaries

2010-10-28T00:57:00.012-04:00

Whenever I wear a chicken suit in the States, I hear the same reaction over and over again—“Hey, it's that chicken from the Family Guy.” And they say it like they're the first one to ever have that thought—even though the tv show is watched by millions.

I used to think Americans were the only ignorant ones. After exploring the world a bit, I have realized that there are ignorant people in every country.

There are definitely more important things in life than being “globally aware.” People have diverse interests. I understand that not everyone travels or is even interested in traveling. Instead, some people watch baseball. Or knit. I hate baseball. So, props to those who have the patience to sit through games and make the players feel valuable.

Anyway, lately I've been a bit puzzled. Even troubled. Everywhere I look I see boundaries. Does anyone move? People are different, of course. Friends usually become friends because of some uniting factor. So, naturally, individuals tend to sift into groups according to common interests. Understandable. But if you zoom out a few clicks to the “culture view,” the borders become thick fast.

In Japan I had to invent a new word once in a while to describe some of my meals. One amazing meal (mostly because it requires minimum effort) is “kimo-gohan”--a mixture of rice, raisins, milk, sugar and cinnamon. The Japanese translates as “disgusting rice.” The facial expressions that it evoked on my Japanese friends' faces often made me second guess what I was actually eating—like double check to make sure I hadn't accidentally mixed in a decomposing dead animal or something. When I'm around people who were raised in the States, I always find their lack of reaction kinda nice when they notice me eating kimo-gohan. The point: it's often relaxing to hang out with people raised in the same culture as oneself. It's effortless.

Groups are inevitable and even beneficial. But why are the boundaries so thick? Does it need to be like that? Are people so obsessed with an effortless lifestyle that it destroys any chance of adventure into learning?

My current life is influenced mostly by Korea. A couple days ago I was at the Korean pub, where I go to fairly often since my roommates work there. It's not uncommon for me to be the only white kid there, but the other day more than a couple people expressed puzzlement over my presence there—“Do you have a Korean girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Is one of your parents Korean?”

“No. Both white like a cracker.”

“You like Korean food?!”

“Yeah, it's good.”

“Why do you know so many Koreans?”

“I don't know.”

Anti-extremism is a virtue. One could make the extreme case that if people were too “culture-friendly,” all the cultures might dissolve into a big ugly gray Super-culture. The other extreme is that people get surprised when an American hangs out at a Korean pub or goes to a party with English language school students.

I guess the question nagging at my mind is “Don't people get tired of their own culture?” I've lived in American culture for over 20 years. That's enough for a lifetime. Don't Americans get tired of talking about football? Don't Koreans get tired of talking about cute actresses? Don't Chinese get tired of talking?

I guess there's a general consensus nowadays that stereotypes are evil. I agree that people should use their brains and not throw individuals they meet into a category; however, stereotypes are funny. As long as people refuse to venture out of their comfortable little lives, stereotypes will remain strong. And Family Guy will continue to be watched by millions.

More Words

2010-10-22T21:37:00.003-04:00

The brain is finite. We understand new information only in a context that already exists. Always. Not in a context outside of our experiences, not in a all-encompassing context, and probably not really in the original, or "true", context.

Luckily, as humans living together in the same world, there is an abundant overlap in our individual experiences, and we possess the ability to communicate, mainly through words. Through words we are able to extrapolate our own individual contexts in order to relate with others' experiences. Words are a very diverse instrument. They also give us the ability to justify anything. Maybe it's the validation we receive from mutuality, maybe it's capacity for education, maybe it's the inherent imperfection--maybe the sum--and it equals an egocentric human population. And lots of words.

I've been reading C.S. Lewis's Till We Have Faces intermittently over the past couple months and finally finished a few days ago. It follows the story of a girl as she becomes queen but who is plagued by misery throughout her life and carries her complaint against the gods with her. Near the end of the story, she stands before the gods and, at last, voices her complaint—which is also her answer. She states, “I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?” The last paragraph reads, "I ended my first book with the words 'no answer'. I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice? Only words, words; to be led out to battle against other words." (Lewis, 308).

It's interesting because it alludes to the idea of the External—something outside of our seeing/breathing/thinking context. Whatever part of the External that does leak into our finite human context can only be understood here, in our place—regardless of the original context.

In my opinion, this is where religion is born. A bit of the External leaking into all of our diverse little human contexts. It's the context we understand. And it's hard for me to understand why many human social circles are so adamant about propagating their own context as truth. They treat God as though He is trapped in a book or—even more absurdly—a human context of their choosing.

I miss mountains. Cities are impressive and amazing, but the structure concept goes too far. It pervades mindsets to the point where people get perturbed by seeing even a slightly abnormal facial expression in public. Mountains are rugged and completely void of human invention. I think it points to the External—Something completely outside of human invention or planning.

There are some brilliant things about life. But, often, I am overcome with the realization that something doesn't add up. As the greatest actor of all time (Nicolas Cage, of course) said once while he was acting, "They say, 'Evil prevails when good men fail to act.' What they ought to say is, 'Evil prevails.'” (Lord of War). In many ways I understand being mad at God for (seemingly) allowing evil to prevail. That is a spot I walk through often.

Dr. Paul Farmer helps poor people in Haiti. Sometimes he also does stuff like teach at Harvard Medical School and work as an attending physician at Brigham Woman's Hospital in Boston. He said, "The fact that any sort of religious faith was so disdained at Harvard and so important to the poor—not just in Haiti but elsewhere, too—made me even more convinced that faith must be something good." In the end, I find myself back at the place where I simply hope that Someone is keeping score.

Much seems lost. Does perfection lie Outside? Because it definitely doesn't make a name for itself in this human context. Yet enough fragments are left flowing through our veins to evoke longing for that place. Fragments of all different shapes—friendship, laughter, love, peace—nurturing the hope that Beauty is out there, somewhere, past where words can go.

Weak to Weak

2010-10-04T01:12:00.003-04:00

And maybe this . . . is life.

And I'm living today
With my hand on your shoulder
And that look in your eyes
That says we're just the same
(God, we're just the same)
But I was given this shade
While you wither in the sun
I sat in wonder at the heavens
Was that the night of your scars?
You never asked for this, I know
And, no, I don't know the reason
(Does a father give gifts of stone?)
But I couldn't help but notice (again)
That your bowl is quite empty
Would you like a bit more of mine?

(screaming part)
Take from me my bowl
And this wretched coffin of precious stones
Heart a bloody mess
Lying on the crystal clear glass floor
Bars of gold instead of doors
Will someone please wake up and sing of blood and death?
And is somebody keeping score?
Is there an ocean that's less deep?

And when we are done with this foolishness
Sitting above the mountain mist
There'll be a great reward for those
Who left their mirrors at home
And the boys and girls who still think they can fly
And the few who survive, their tears wiped dry

And with a hand on my shoulder
The searing pain is no more
And the hope in your eyes
Awakes the hope in mine too
The strength from your hands
From the toil in the sun
I remember shivering in the shadows
I recall the lone eyes in the night

And then words stopped
Beauty, in its place, fixed its gaze

…And I fall
Into the mist
Again;
…and you're poor

Your bowl is quite empty
Would you like a bit more of mine?

A Cup of Water II

2010-07-12T00:25:00.014-04:00

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October 25, 2007
…Differential equations, mass transport, microbiology, neuroscience, magnetic resonance microscopy—a means. Please God, merely a means to an end. May the label of education be hope to someone—anyone, anywhere. Even if just to give a cup of cold water to drink to a child…
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July 10, 2010
I spent the last few weeks in Bolivia traveling with friends from La Paz as well as medical professionals from the US to small villages in the desert mountains of Santa Cruz where we would set up free medical clinics for the people. While some of the villages had sufficient medical facilities and personnel, other villages we found seemed to be lacking in adequate medical care for its people, especially the elderly. All of us worked very hard over our two weeks of mountain travel so that we were able to provide care for as many people as possible during our short stays.

I have many exciting stories from these last few weeks of adventures, and the team could talk about diverse cases that they saw at the clinic or heartwarming encounters that they had on some of the home visits. They are all beautiful stories. But I would like to share an ordinary story.

June 22, 2010
Quirusillas, Santa Cruz, Bolivia
I worked crowd control today. We saw around 120 patients. It was a constant flow of people and even got a little hectic, but in the end I think we did a good job of looking our visitors in the eye and giving them the care that they deserve as human beings. During the busiest time of today, as I was directing visitors from triage to the appropriate nurse station or waiting area, something ordinary happened. A team member approached me with a little girl around age 6 in tow and said “Hey Rob, she’s thirsty, is there something to drink?” and handed her over to me. Sure, let’s go. “Ven con migo” – I used one of my recently acquired Spanish phrases and off we went to the other side of the spacious gym to grab my water bottle. She was bubbly little girl with bright eyes, and on the way she started skipping. Naturally, I joined in. We made it to my water bottle, and I proceeded to hunt down a cup for her, pour her a cup of water, then stood by to see if more would be needed. She finished, gave me the cup, said “Gracias,” and once again went skipping off in search of the next exciting activity. I went back to crowd control.

And that’s the story. The reason it’s even a memory for me is because it obviously holds some personal significance. A couple years ago I remember sitting in my room trying to solve a mass transport equation for homework. My thoughts were elsewhere and I proceeded to write about it. I wanted to be elsewhere, to be in the world, looking at faces, not books or computer monitors. My prayer that day was that my label of education would be simply a means to provide care for people with needs – even if it was merely handing a cup of water to a child (in the words of Jesus). I feel like handing that cup of water to my little friend was a moment that was supposed to serve as a reminder to me that there was a deeper level – deeper than a line of people at the triage desk, deeper than the number of prescriptions of ibuprofen written that day, deeper than the number of toothbrushes given out to the kids that day.

I like Jesus. He talked about a “kingdom” in which the ordinary things in life had potential to be significant. It’s a refreshing thought, especially coming from my Western society that places so much emphasis on accomplishments, on results, on numbers. This kingdom that Jesus talked about marries the ordinary to the noble, and I believe this is a notion that many people from a full range of socioeconomic backgrounds and cultural upbringings long to embrace. It means that meaning is not defined by status in society or by influence over the world. It means a simple act of giving can hold significance. It raises a caring heart to a higher level than an amount on a check. It ensures that giving a mother a glimpse of hope again or helping a kid smile will not go unnoticed.

What if a simple prayer for a neighbor can carry significance? What if giving a cup of water to a child can be beautiful? What if providing medical care in obscure and seemingly forgotten villages in the mountains of Bolivia has potential to have a lasting impact, rather than simply vanishing the next morning along with the mountain mist?

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To view some pics:
http://www.dropbox.com/gallery/3269422/1/2010%20Bolivian%20Death%20Road?h=f4bcd6

Mind's Eye

2010-07-08T23:12:00.003-04:00

The images imprinted on my retina as I close my eyes to rest have been spectacular as of late. I close my eyes and find myself immediately made spectator to vivid images from my recent life: thousands of pale square houses upon houses perceived as little specks cloaking the rugged peaks of La Paz jutting out past the tree line, as seems fitting for something as raw and untamed as nature; a green mountain, laid thick in jungle vegetation, defiantly stealing any glory from the backdrop of a bright blue sky and lingering mist; the dry, dusty trails of atv terrain passing quickly underneath in my mind’s view; exhilarating views of densely vegetated valleys winding through steep raw peaks as the foreground of meandering stretches of highway is a constant blur as I navigate my mountain bike deeper and deeper into the green.

These images imprinted on my mind are just a glimpse into my life in the last few weeks. As I sit on a plane en route back to the states, every minute that passes makes this most recent life grow a little more surreal.

But life moves. I’m thankful for the time I had to explore Bolivia with my friends. We traveled with a team of medical professionals from the US through the desert mountains of Santa Cruz, Bolivia, setting up medical clinics in rural villages along the way. Our eyes were given a chance to see into what life was like in these areas. In a few of the villages we found a handful of elderly individuals shut away in their houses, neglected to their death bed. In other villages we found well-equipped medical facilities and caring Cuban doctors ready to serve the Bolivian farmers. There were also the kids, the heart of every village. We played football, basketball, freeze tag; they took my hand and led me around the villages; we played with cool toys the team had brought as gifts; and I ran around in my chicken suit as they chased me, screaming “Pollo! Pollo!” Kids are beautiful. I have promised myself to go back and visit my beautiful little friends as soon as I’m able.

Our adventures continued back in La Paz. We explored surrounding areas overlooking La Paz; we went 4-wheeling in a big terrain park with beautiful views of the valley below; we went mountain biking down “Death Road,” a stretch of 63 km of narrow mountain road that drops 10,000 ft in elevation during the ride. All of these things and all of these people have left a deep imprint on my mind. Now my biggest challenge will be to have a good attitude as I come back to the US. God knows it’s a place in which I’ve never actually desired to live. I hope this won’t last too much longer.

Five minutes till touch-down in Miami...
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Life's Ramblings

2010-05-27T00:37:00.003-04:00

Church was deep. The topic: one of the pastors passed away from cancer last week. He was young; 30’s, wife, three kids. WTF? People were sad, confused, angry, broken. I don’t really participate in church stuff, so I didn’t know him. At church another pastor talked about his life and final days. He often battled depression and despair. Of course. He was wasting away, becoming weaker every day from the chemo. The day before he passed away, he laid his hands on each of his children and gave them his blessings. I couldn’t quit trying to imagine what a dying father’s hand feels to a kid, how his final words would sound, the concept of an “end.” The pastor at church talked about inner strength. It was encouraging. There are verses in the Bible that talk about how “what is seen is temporary, but the unseen is eternal.” To me it’s an extremely attractive thought, but a ridiculously hard thought to process. Is it wishful thinking? Believing that there is a deeper level abiding underneath the sensory? And if God is part of the deeper level, why do strong-spirited, loving 38 year-old fathers die from cancer while their kids watch? In my brain research group meetings, a phrase often uttered is “Biology is messy.” That is one thought that I always include in the thought blender. In addition to random chaos, imperfection is rampant in the world. It’s not an answer, really. Just another thought. Christian answers drop dead at my ears. I think the Christian faith possesses many brilliant concepts that help many find strength in God; it’s just that my ears have become immune to Christianese. It happens. A lesson in the relevance of language. And in the irrelevance of regurgitated aphorisms. I’m kina like Job from the Bible, except not righteous and don’t have very many crises going on in my life. But I try to justify my position to God. I still think I’m right in a lot of cases; in all the other cases, I used to think I was right. I still hope there’s an “unseen” where our inherent knowledge that perfection exists proves true, where maybe biology isn’t so messy, and where once in a while a bridge or two cross over to what is seen.

The Confidence Interval

2010-04-18T02:27:00.002-04:00

I might’ve gotten an epiphany the other day: I hate normal. I hate natural responses to a set of stimuli. Predictable reactions annoy me, and predictable mass reactions annoy me a tiny bit more. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because out of everything that a brain is capable of streamlining into a conscious thought, predictability is the least interesting imaginable. It’s necessary, of course, in the name of efficiency. Clapping has its place; without it, nobody would stay awake during awards ceremonies.

Doing the flip-side thing and sifting out the negativity: I love diversity. I love the concept of individuality and uniqueness. I love seeing new terrain, moving, floating, flying – learning about other cultures, people, worldviews. All of which add up to make it hard to come back and remain in America for the present; however, it would be unwarranted to allow my nostalgia for the world to hinder me from exploring what’s around me even now, what I have been given. Because it’s here too. Yes, the world is everywhere. And you can even quote me on that.

I love the many faces of humor. I have seen them in so many places around the world. They all share a common thread – unpredictability. In some ways, this means a complete disregard for the steady stream of human behavior that constantly flows right through the middle of the Gaussian curve of social interaction. It means my friends are all insane. And our place of gathering lies outside any cultural or ethnic boundaries. Those are the kinds of people with whom I somehow end up making the longest lasting friendships.

I hate getting to know people. I love knowing people; the former, laced with shallow words and misunderstandings; the latter, sturdy with unparalleled beauty and depth.

Thoughts on a bus – Boston, 2010:
When I grow up, will things be different? Is there a life where mundaneness can’t make a bed? Or does it all inevitably just morph into another new shade of gray?

Doctors become doctors because they’re bored, right? They hope to leave the confines of safety and familiarity and, especially, self-centeredness, and instead to live a life of unpredictability among those stricken by the unpredictability of life. Sometimes it’s hell and sometimes it’s heaven, but the constant, underlying beauty imprints deeper than all the ink in the world. . .right?

My fantasized and naïve hope.

Surgery

2010-02-15T01:13:00.004-05:00

Anyway, I went to church the other day. The lady who spoke was a total fruitcake; however, she has lived in Mozambique for the last several years so she has good stuff to say about life. She helps people. When they’re hungry, she feeds them. And the people in Mozambique are starving. It sounds so simple when put in that context. It brings to mind so many of the words that Jesus spoke. During her talk at church today she said “Are [Jesus’ words] relevant to Boston, too?”

“Wow, good question…no idea…,” echoed inside my head, as I sat in the midst of emphatic “yes’s” heard throughout the spacious sanctuary.

This is me in 2010.

The few friends of mine who have a general idea of how my neural circuitry works have often recommended C.S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces for me to read. I still haven’t yet taken the initiative on it; however, recently at church I listened to the speaker read an excerpt from it, and I must say, there was some resonance going on somewhere up there.

“I say the gods [God, in this context] deal very unrightly with us. For they will neither (which would be best of all) go away and leave us to live our own short days to ourselves, nor will they show themselves openly and tell us what they would have us do. For that too would be endurable. But to hint and hover, to draw near us in dreams and oracles, or in a waking vision that vanishes as soon as seen, to be dead silent when we question them and then glide back and whisper (words we cannot understand) in our ears when we most wish to be free of them, and to show to one what they hide from another; what is all this but cat-and-mouse play, blindman's buff, and mere jugglery? Why must holy places be dark places?” (Lewis, C.S. Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold. 1956. 118-119.)

I have some ideas for how to run the universe in case someone ever asked. For one, I wouldn’t throw a planet into orbit and then go to sleep for thousands of years, only waking up once in a while to remind “that one planet with living things” that I was actually alive and going to come back to save everyone. Or destroy everyone. Someday.

I grew up in the church and learned apologetics fairly well for a non-theologian. I used to think it was important to know what one believed, to defend what one believed, and maybe to even convince a few here and there to believe “what’s right” – which is always one’s own beliefs. Now I try to live in reality. It makes talking to people, learning about people, understanding people, etc., way easier.

Has anyone else noticed that Solomon was kinda smart? He had some good stuff to say. He talks about reality: “I know the best thing we can do is always enjoy life, because God’s gift to us is the happiness we get from our food and drink and from the work we do. Everything God has done will last forever; nothing he does can ever be changed. God has done all this, so that we will worship him.” (Solomon, Ecclesiastes 3:12-14) The last part seemed a bit desultory when I first read it. He lays out so many profound observations concerning how life under the sun progresses, how it cycles, how it leaves so many questions unanswered. He finally ends up saying “Just enjoy your food and your work” and, finally, at the very end he throws in a “…and this means worship God,” almost like a southern Baptist preacher might.

Life’s so complicated. This might indeed be one of my biggest criticisms of the general Christian/church population – they offer answers for everything like they actually know. In reality, life is a chaos-generating beast, completely non-linear in almost every aspect save the systems that are a product of clever inventions from within the logical mind so that they can fit nicely in our compartmentalized conscious brain. What about death? And pain? What about extreme hopelessness? Poverty? Earthquakes and tsunamis? If you’re reading this, and you’re a Christian who believes that natural disasters are a judgment for people’s sins – stop, and go find a more fundamental website to read. Life’s random. People are beautiful. Sacrifice is beautiful. Hope is beautiful.

So that’s why I find Solomon’s musings so profound. Life is ridiculous. But what if the response is simple? What if the dark holy places only require a flip of the switch at the back of the room? What if it doesn’t require thousands of shelves filled with theological dissertations? What if happiness is important? What if thankfulness is important? What if God is real? It would give one a direction to look toward. One thing I am convinced of is that you don’t have to go to a church or a mosque to find a real God. He’s there too sometimes, of course, but True Beauty is too rampant to be confined to the cute inanimate inventions of flawed hands.

I would just like to emphasize the main point, which is that I don’t know. I write stuff down sometimes—sometimes I can even make people believe it’s coherent. But as for life, like I said, it’s only 2010. No idea what’s left. Here’s another excerpt from Till We Have Faces:

“The past which I wrote down was not the past that I thought I had (all these years) been remembering. I did not, even when I had finished the book, see clearly many things that I see now. The change which the writing wrought in me (and of which I did not write) was only a beginning— only to prepare me for the gods' surgery. They [God] used my own pen to probe my wound.” (Lewis, C.S. Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold. 1956. 120.)

2010-01-29T00:07:00.003-05:00

And sometimes Perfection halts everything.

Because nothing is perfect.

And what's left is sleep
Against the wind and the waves

The Hospital

2010-01-23T04:09:00.001-05:00

Inspiration has been hard to come by recently. I haven’t yet figured out exactly which environmental factors are mainly responsible for my mind entering stand-by mode. I think it could have something to do with a realistic outlook on life mixed with some apathy and the ever-present mundane, all intertwined to yield absolutely no verbal or written thoughts that would be impersonal enough to articulate yet interesting enough for someone to read. Apathy.

I live in Boston now. Mostly, I observe. I’ve been learning about the grown-up world. The stuff everyone already knows from TV – grown-ups get up in the morning, grab their coffee, read the news on their commute to work, lead a sociable presence in the workplace so that everything continues to flow efficiently, get a paycheck, home to the family, family time, etc. There are problems, there are fights, there is laughter, there is love. I live in America, an American life.

I never asked for this. I only beg it’s a tiny stepping stone near the riverbank. Every morning I pass through the main corridor at the Massachusetts General Hospital on my way to the shuttle bus to the Martinos Imaging Center. It’s the usual hospital activity, I suppose. But that sixty-second time frame that I’m in the hospital usually gives me thoughts for the rest of the day. Hospitals feel deeper. Deeper than what’s outside. And maybe in actuality they’re simply more people mindlessly following their daily path. But at least to me, they feel deeper. The reason for this is that for most people, hospitals are a place to go when their daily path gets interrupted somehow – when the ladder breaks, when traffic collides, when a child forgets to look both ways – when biology fails. And suddenly time is important. Not time in itself, but time as the independent variable in the function of humanity. These are the experiences that shift us out of our steady-state and let us discover the beauty in each others’ eyes.

In those walls, I long for so much, actually. I long for life to be better. I long for time to increase inside those walls. I long to learn. I long for my life to pass through those walls sometime in the future – but for more than sixty seconds next time.

And I feel so much pressure. The dreams of a child are not simple. Is there a place where dreams and reality are the same? Does that place exist in time? I want skills. People are dying. People are poor. And I’m in America, reading headlines on my commute to work. WTF?

Lamentations of the Night Sky

2009-11-13T00:39:00.001-05:00

Do you care about the stars?
Do you ever glance into the night?
To see the voice of his heart rise high
On the air of silence above the Rising Sun’s darkness

Were you there on the shore?
Listening to the agony in her voice?
As her pleas drowned out the dull blows of her fists
On his lifeless chest

And I saw the bruises on his face
Felt the scar on her arm
Kissed every tear off her cheek
Turned and screamed your name at the stars
Do you care about the stars?
Do you ever glance into the night?

(Or do I just look the wrong way?)

And if I would be so privileged
As to receive a final request
I’d stamp a word or two on my lips,
Maybe tie on a bow and a pretty lace,
All the while screaming from my heart
To where words can never go

But we must feel to move
We must perceive to be
Wherefore I respectfully submit this request
To be taken to rest among the starry host,
The throng of time, my hope:

Don’t let this be the last verse.

Adventures in the Far East

2009-06-06T16:16:00.014-04:00

My latest travels took me on a road trip from MT to the East Coast where my friends and I saw many sites we had only heard about on tv. It was a good American experience. Here's some pics of some of the sites we stopped at:

Yale University, CT

Cape Cod, MA

Times Square, NYC

Statue of Liberty, NYC

Mackinac Bridge, MI

2009-04-27T23:27:00.002-04:00

(Concerning this montage they call Life…)

My mind is not here, God forbid my mind be here, finding comfort in this comfort.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and to whom they entrusted much, of him they will ask all the more.” -- Bible (Luke 12:48)

Thoughts calling from the past…lying awake at night to the dreams of a child in the theater of my mind. Where did he go? Who is the real thief anyway? Who would steal something so precious and where did I put it? I never asked for this. Peter Pan could fly. I can barely lift my eyes sometimes.

. . .There's so many people hurting. So many people troubled, so many people longing for something even remotely close to true love. And when I see this, my heart sinks; hope seems so distant. When I look up to heaven, words won't come. What can be spoken that hasn't already been heard?. . .

Come down, heaven.
Won't you come down? (As Cities Burn)

This world is backwards and it never quits spinning. Walking, running, flying…will I ever get somewhere?

Take me back to where I was
Before I was born
sweet and dreamless sleep
It sounds like heaven to me (As Cities Burn)

. . .But I can see lights. Lights spread among the walking corpses that constantly surround me. They are a little glimmer of hope that still burns. And all I can hope for and beg for is that this life that I possess would also be one of those lights, staying lit for those around me.

I’m so weak. I can do nothing. The constant motion of time, weathering hope, stealing a little more day to day. All that remains is a dream of a child. But may it forever outlive the child.

Here’s your hope tonight, my love
Please hold it again
Tomorrow I’ll find it again for you

That night I went to bed with a smile on my face. That night takes my hand and leads me on.

What if a heart is more important than a face? What if a vow means more than a ring? What if the rich aren’t the ones who are truly blessed, but rather those who are poor in spirit? What if those who have plenty are not the ones who are truly satisfied, but rather those who hunger and thirst for justice? What if the ambitious aren’t the ones who are truly strong, but rather those who are merciful and humble? What if forgetting about a reputation in order to look at someone with whom others go out of their way to avoid eye contact is important? What if loving one’s neighbor is important?

It’s all backwards.

...May this love be the beginning quiver of a leaf before the rushing of the whirlwind. May this love bring color to the grayness of this world. May this love go where words can't go and eyes can't follow. May this love break through unending facades. Let this love speak. This love…I want this love…

Withered Words

2009-02-24T02:30:00.005-05:00

Is this safe in your hands?
Will it outlive your flame?
Cuz it was so beautiful when I looked down
Just a second ago
I held it with care
Like a child’s first dream
And though the filth of my hands
Taint it ever so soft
It still remained as a torch
In a world of ash
A hope in small hands
The one gem not lost
It was beautiful
My God, it was still beautiful

And here I sit in silence
After the wind’s taunting dance
Surrounded by withered words, my stale thoughts
Where does darkness sleep?

I heard the oceans have walls
And the stars a stage
And young ravens are fed
As are clouds before rain
Rivers freeze, mountains break
Lightning roars

I don’t know how I was made

May I sleep on your grave tonight?
Rest my head under your name?
Awake to my bones breaking and beg once again
May I sleep on your grave tonight?
Rest my head frail in its place
And the morning comes
Silent, I stare into your face

Plutonium

2008-11-02T15:17:00.004-05:00

I'm glad Pluto's not a planet anymore. I always hated it. I don't think atomic bombs are good for the environment. So, in my opinion, it was a good decision to blow it up...or whatever they did with it...

Uhm...

Here's a picture.

A World Spinning Backwards

2008-07-21T15:17:00.004-04:00

Stephen Wiltshire. Sometimes referred to as “The Human Camera.” He’s an autistic savant, which means that he’s an autistic who has been gifted with some incredible abilities. Try this YouTube link to learn more about him: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8YXZTlwTAU. When my neuroscience professor saw this video, he said that he gave up on ever having a complete understanding on how the brain really works—it’s too ridiculous. To think that a brain can be capable of this phenomenon is fascinating and leads to countless questions concerning the neural mechanisms of visual attention and memory. Provided we have two working eyes, optic nerves, and optic tracts, everything in our field of vision enters our primary visual cortex, right? So, what discerns the “level of salience” of objects that we see? What discerns which objects are lost in the background?

Most cameras nowadays have an Invert Colors mode. It’s fun to use if you’re bored with normal pictures. What if there was a Invert Salience mode? All the things that don’t get noticed suddenly become the focus of one’s attention. All the things that weren’t important are actually what’s truly important.

What if the world is backwards?

In the world we live in, the smart are seen as useful, the rich are seen as blessed, the successful are seen as immovable, the good-looking are seen as beautiful. Material weighs one’s success, ambition weighs one’s value, a smile weighs one’s hope, a mirror weighs one’s image. The list could go on.

There’s that thing Jesus said about a poor widow once [1]. Nobody noticed her putting two small coins into the Temple’s collection box. How are the two coins going to help anybody? Her contribution didn’t matter—kinda like voting for President if you’re from North Dakota. But Jesus noticed her and told his disciples that she had given more than everyone else. Visual attention is a funny thing.

Something about the attitude of the woman’s heart mattered. She was poor. She didn’t have money to give, but she gave anyway. Others gave because they had money to give. When we, as a world, focus on this situation, we see the coins. We see what the coins are used for. We try to justify seeing the coins by also looking at the results of the coins. But it’s a rare thing in this world to look at the attitude of one’s heart. Maybe it’s because we can’t physically see it. But what if the things we don’t see are the things that truly are important?

What if the rich aren’t the ones who are truly blessed, but rather those who are poor in spirit? What if those who have plenty are not the ones who are truly satisfied, but rather those who hunger and thirst for righteousness? What if the ambitious aren’t the ones who are truly strong, but rather those who are merciful and humble? [2] What if prayers never answered but still prayed are actually important? What if forgetting about a reputation in order to look at someone with whom others go out of their way to avoid eye contact is important? What if loving one’s neighbor is important?

It’s all backwards. But when it’s all backwards, individuals have value—and it’s a value that doesn’t stem from other individuals’ words. And that’s a refreshing thought in today’s world.

More than anything else, Jesus talked about a Kingdom. Turns out, it wasn’t visible like everyone at the time thought it would be.

[1] http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke%2021:1-4;&version=51
[2] http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew%205:1-12;&version=31

2008 Euro Cup

2008-07-01T07:25:00.010-04:00

Since I live in Europe this summer, I've been following the 2008 Euro Cup. It gives me something to do. I'm in Germany, so I figured I would cheer for Germany, even though I could really care less. With each Germany victory, the celebrations around town gradually grew more lively, so it was fun to observe. Last week when Germany beat Turkey to advance to the championship game, there was a huge celebration downtown. The street was packed with singing Germans, draped in their national colors and waving German flags high for all to see. Around the town all that could be heard was the cacophony of car horns as cars drove around parading the German flags from the windows.

I went to England this weekend and flew back on Sunday night, which ended up overlapping perfectly with the the Germany vs. Spain championship game. On the plane I kept wondering what would await me. If Germany won, I figured I should know immediately after walking into the airport, if not immediately after landing. It would be fitting to type right here "The suspense was more than I could bear," but that'd be a lie. I just sat quietly in my seat and read a book about Saudi Arabia.

Immediately after landing, I began to look around at different people's faces to see if there would be anything telling in their expressions. I didn't see any exhilaration, but maybe they were just acting reserved or maybe their phones didn't work, or maybe the game wasn't quite finished. I was leaning towards a Germany loss.

The second hint I was given was standing in line for immigration back into Germany. I kept hearing murmured voicings of "Scheiße" (English spelling: Scheisse), which is definitely not a good indication of victory. I was almost convinced. I needed to be sure though. Finally, as I walked into the airport terminal, awaiting me was an indication that was a little bit less ambiguous than the previous ones. Here's what I saw:

That's not Germany's flag (for all the Americans out there). It's an upside-down Spanish one. *shrug*

I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed. Knowing that I would have a 3-hr. layover at the train station in Mainz, I was hoping that the celebrations would still be rockin when I got there so that I could take some cool pictures. Instead, I walked aimlessly around a dark and relatively quiet town at 3am before heading back to the station to wait another hour and a half. Instead of pictures of masses of victorious Germans in their red, black, & yellow garb, singing "Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole!" I have only pictures of lonliness and boredom (below). Oh well, maybe another time.

To My Child in an Imperfect World

2008-06-20T18:17:00.004-04:00

(This will be a really cool hardcore song someday)

Wait inside tonight, my love
And rest your eyes
I’m at your side

Here’s your hope tonight, my love
Please hold it again
Tomorrow I’ll find it again for you

And when we embark on our journey again
I’ll hold your hand, my friend
And we'll fly, my friend
And we’ll see the trees from the sky
We’ll see the oceans rise
We’ll see the mountains cry
And we’ll see rivers dry

We’ll see small ones as they watch their mother cry
We’ll see a mother’s pain and adulteress eye
We’ll see brothers abandon for a loaf of bread
We’ll see fathers falling and then they’re dead

We’ll see desolation where the masses are
We’ll see rivers run free in the palace of one
We’ll see nations devour and then take some more
We’ll see kings of peace turn in defeat
We’ll see an empty spot in the judge’s seat
We’ll see recklessness in those we need
We’ll see fire destroy the innocent
We’ll see the starving die, but pass the wine

We’ll see ashes give birth and ashes die
And we’ll see ashes rising high into the sky
We’ll see monuments for the hate they love
We’ll see a bed for the lovers they’ve won

And a strong man will die
And a rich man will cry
And you’ll ask me why
As we look at the trees from this blood red sky

This world is backwards and we’ll spin it back again
We’ll give a Name to the End
And I’ll hold your hand, my friend

We’ll see beauty in the unknown
We’ll see joy in agony
We’ll see hope that comes back again
We’ll see darkness that can’t run free
We’ll see wealth in poverty
We’ll see a heart in the hungry
We’ll see a strength in the lowly
…And maybe we’ll prevail

Please stay with me
In this blood red sky

Give me all your tears
Drop them at my feet
I'll pick each up
Put them all on my cheek

(break-down)

Cuz I’ll dry all your tears
And I’ll dry all your tears
And I’ll dry all your tears
And you’ll sleep tonight

Going Through Life: Part 23

2008-06-15T14:26:00.051-04:00

Pretty sure no one still reads this, because it's just another dormant blog site. But I have nothing to do right now, so I'll give a little update and use really cool pictures to make it non-boring.

I graduated from Montana State University with a chemical engineering degree, so that's enough of that. I think the engineers are usually the people who are happiest to graduate. Their four years aren't just some classes and some papers and then you graduate. It's more like hell. So at the graduation ceremony, it seemed fitting that the engineering section erupted with the most pomp and silly string when their college was called. Yeah, so I'm gonna move onto neuroscience now and leave engineering behind for the time being.

I done gradutated!

After that, I left the U.S. once again on May something, 2008. Before I left, however, I went to Disneyland. And I will now prove it with a picture.

Me at Disneyland

From Disneyland I flew to Taiwan (for all you Americans out there, Taiwan is an island off the coast of China and south of Japan). The tallest building in the world is there, so I took a a picture by it.

Taipei 101 Building

After Taiwan, I returned to the lovely Jakarta, Indonesia, to see my family and to eat. My friends and I spent a few days in Bali. It was a good time and I really miss the homies. It was me, my brother Ryan, Chiaki the Jap, Tomo the Jap, and Shinae the Korean.

Kuta Beach, Bali

Yeah, I can fly. But only down.

Next we were off to Surabaya, which is in East Java. We went to Mt. Bromo, which fascinates Indonesians with its desolate landscape. I think it's the only place that looks like that in Indonesia, and Indonesia is a big country (not just one little island in the ocean, like most Americans believe). Here's a couple pics:

Mt. Bromo, Eastern Java, Indonesia

Jumping off stuff

I eventually left Indonesia and came to Germany, where I am now. I'm doing MRI research at the University of Würzburg. I was able to get my brain scanned at the other building. So here's what my brain looks like when I'm looking at different depicted facial expressions:

fMRI of my brain

So that's not too bad, I guess. Fairly normal. Got all the important things, at least. Ok, well...I'm hoping to write some interesting thoughts someday. So...whatever. Farewell.

Surrender

2008-04-03T22:06:00.000-04:00

There is something powerful in surrender. Not simply a momentary surrendering to an instinct or an impulse or a logic—that can be seen every day anywhere you look—but surrendering one’s life. I think the reason for such a salient notion runs deeper than it simply being rare in today’s world, although that’s definitely a point to notice. What kind of person decides to yield control over their own life? It sounds ridiculous, especially in independent America where notions such “the individual” and “freedom” are heralded almost like a cultic dogma. What would possess someone to go against natural, physiologically mapped-out synaptic pathways and surrender his body, mind, decisions, goals, achievements, etc., to another? Only two kinds of people come to mind: 1) those who know nothing and 2) those who know that they know nothing.

Some are simply taught to surrender. But then there are others who are driven to it by a gradual realization that, when it comes to how to live a life in a world—a world in which others also live, no less—there are so many factors involved in attempting to create the good things in life—things such as perfection, ideality, joy, hope, love—that one would never in a billion years be able to take all these factors and load them into a statistical model to determine “how to have a good and productive life.” It’d be a mess. No consistency.

So maybe that’s why surrendering is an option. It would, of course, depend on if there was indeed a Way to know how to live in order to produce these good things in life. All I know is that following my impulsive or instinctive tendencies is really inconsistent—sometimes selfish, sometimes altruistic, and sometimes altruistic only in my selfish mind.

It seems like consistency is something longed for in the world. There are so many people in the world—those in the most horrid conditions and those living comfortably; those who are content and those who are miserable; those with hate and those with love. And the initial conditions on a person’s life are a huge influence on determining what kind of person he/she will become; however, I don’t believe it’s the ultimate influence. My belief is in the teachings of Jesus and that true goodness and consistency is found in a relationship with Him. I heard of things such as beauty in poverty, hope in hopelessness, joy in anguish. I’ve even experienced this phenomenon on a small scale myself, but I would be embarrassed to call my experiences of poverty, hopelessness, and anguish the real things.

So, again, I don’t believe a life’s initial conditions are the only determining factor involved, but are very influential in determining the course of a life. And I think that the consistency found in Jesus is actually able to resolve these seemingly unfair beginnings scattered around the globe. I plan to write about this in my next blog.

A Cup of Water

2007-10-25T02:49:00.001-04:00

Another night, sitting at my table, focused, driven, striving to grasp a mass transport differential equation. It’s not long before my eyes look up. My eyes scan the room, but my mind is not here—it’s not in this spacious, furnished, American room with a queen-sized bed, two computers, a connecting bathroom, a walk-in closet.

What is all this CRAP? Where did it come from? What am I studying? Why am I studying?

What is happening outside the walls of this American home? Is justice being uplifted in Myanmar? Are kids being fed in Sudan? Are fathers caring for their children in Japan? Are the homes of earthquake and tsunami victims in Indonesia being rebuilt? What about the many families who have been forced to split up in North Korea, China, and Laos? What about those who have grown up without even the thought of hope in Palestine, Israel, Iraq, Thailand, India…the list could go on forever, because the wars could go on forever.

My mind is not here, God forbid my mind be here, finding comfort in this comfort.

Differential equations, mass transport, microbiology, neuroscience, magnetic resonance microscopy—a means. Please God, merely a means to an end. May the label of education be hope to someone—anyone, anywhere. Even if just to give a cup of cold water to drink to a child.

I’m so weak. I can do nothing. The constant motion of time, weathering hope, stealing a little more day to day. All that remains is a dream of a child. But may it forever outlive the child.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and to whom they entrusted much, of him they will ask all the more.” -- Bible (Luke 12:48)

More From The World

2007-08-24T19:00:00.001-04:00

Well, I completed a world trip this year and have finally arrived back in the great white America. This was my first full-year spent outside of the U.S., and it definitely changed a lot of what goes on in my head. My plan now is to chill in America for a couple more years to get a finish an engineering degree, and then I'm off to the world again. Here's some pictures from random countries:

The last "purikura" ever. These pictures are really popular in Japan, but they're not so interesting to me. It was good to see the homies again. Sho and Sae are still crazy, so that's good.

From Japan I went to Morocco and saw cool stuff. Here's the 2nd biggest mosque in the world.

And then I was off to Europe. I went to Germany to meet my friend Kaori, and then we drove down to the Austrian Alps. They were flippin cool. Here's a picture of something that can never be captured:

In Austria there was a guy that we call "Drool Man," so we went to see him.

While driving in Austria, we took a wrong turn and ended up going to Italy. We figured since we were going to Italy, we might as well go all the way to Venice. So that's what we did and it was an awesome trip. Yeah, Venice...they use boats.

My final stop was Iceland. I drove around the island by myself for a few days before coming back to America. Here's me and my friend in Iceland:

Thoughts

2007-08-15T01:18:00.000-04:00

There's so many people hurting. So many people troubled, so many people longing for something even remotely close to true love. And when I see this, my heart sinks; hope seems so distant. When I look up to heaven, words won't come. What can be spoken that hasn't already been heard?

But, I can see lights. Lights spread among the walking corpses that constantly surround me. They are a little glimmer of hope that still burns. And all I can hope for and beg for is that this life that I possess would also be one of those lights, staying lit for those around me.

Once Upon A Umi

2007-07-04T12:50:00.000-04:00

Good morning, World.

It won't be long now until I go back to my mother country. I can tell already it's gonna be pretty messed, but I think as long as I don't let my mind expect anything, then it won't be as shocking. Right now I'm just trying to finish up my Japanese classes as well as my one Korean class. Crazy how many alphabets I've learned in the past year.

Last weekend we chilled at a beach at a place called Amakusa. It is on the west side of Japan's southernmost island of Kyushu. It was really green except for the sand and the water. There was a big yellow sun. We did the normal beach stuff, like play in the water, construct a sand castle, get sunburned, etc.

The Night of Flight and Light and Ghosts

2007-07-04T12:18:00.000-04:00

There was the night we took our friends to a look-out over the city to teach them the basics of flight. They actually didn't pay too much attention to us, just took a couple pictures and told us that we were good flyers. But hopefully we were able to leave a lasting impression on them and maybe someday they will start seriously pursuing a life of flight and freedom.

Here's a few of Sam and I flying:

Here's one that doesn't let me sleep at night because it's so scary, and then I thought I'd also just throw in an "on the grounder" as well.

The Mother Blog

2007-06-11T06:13:00.001-04:00

At last, I felt it was time to write a blog that was not completely abstract, useless, and boring like the past couple blogs have been, so I will try my hardest to do that.

So, my life is still not over. However, I am still single and I have no idea why, because I'm really cool and manly. But, moving on...here are some of the latest happenin's in my life in Japan with the homies.

(To continue reading this amazing blog, go to this site: http://www.xanga.com/rbblah)

And here's two pictures for the people who are too lazy to go to the other site.

Here's a mountain my friend took a picture of from the plane. The locals call it Fuji-san (富士山). It's in Japan.

Here's a picture of Tokyo Tower that I took with my cell phone.

2007-06-08T14:06:00.000-04:00

In a moment…

One suddenly becomes an individual; unique, beautiful
When thoughts are realized

One suddenly becomes a treasure, cherished and dear
When thoughts become important

One suddenly becomes a dream, longed for and cried for
When thoughts become words

But, in this split moment, do we dare say let death live?
Rather, may it be we who live
Not merely to become a dream
But to become these words

Mirror of Hope

2007-05-06T12:19:00.000-04:00

And once when I looked upon this world and then to the mirror at my feet
I thought I saw a perfect complexion
Accursed pretension that it was
For when I looked under the sun, I saw what had been seen so many times before
Wickedness sat in justice’s throne and the wicked at the table of the righteous
Wherever I looked, evil prevailed
And in all this there were no advantages to be given me, save one
Or so I thought
For in this abundance of evil, my pride was given life
In my earthen mirror deception gave birth
And my gaze was fixed
Enthralled with a new-found beauty
My cute, little lie that tore me to shreds

I kept looking down

And once when I looked from my place below to the heavens
And then to the mirror placed into my hands from above
I noticed perfection was no more, for I saw my place
But what remained...
What remained make beautiful words as useful as dust
New mirror placed in my hands
I saw myself, yet not a reflected gaze, but a gaze from afar
These eyes I recognized from my dreams so long ago
Dreams of hope so great, that which only a child could dream
This is what I would become, eyes captivated by freedom
Is there still time?
In this imperfection was found the purest sort of acceptance
An acceptance that cannot be true, for perfection was no more
Yet my gaze was fixed

I was no longer looking down

In my hands I hold this mirror of hope

Drifting Thoughts...

2007-02-28T06:00:00.000-05:00

(Concerning the thief they call "Time"...)

People sometimes say I don't care about anything. Of course they're wrong, but oftentimes the "whatever mindset" seems really attractive to me, enough to even strive for at times. But this "whatever mindset" is really more of a mindset that is reached by a slow chiseling brought by a gradual realization of certain permanent truths concerning life that seem to be constantly staring you in the eye. At first the realization of these truths causes a feeling of helplessness. "Good times will end...I barely have time to cherish any friendships...I can't stop my life..."

...Many times as I go through life, I get really sad about its constant motion. I hate that memories are forgotten. I hate that faces are forgotten. I hate that conversations are forgotten. I hate that love is forgotten. I hate having no choice but to be carried by the seasons and carried by the dawn and having to constantly be awakened to another dream and another farewell...

Depressing, really. But after a while it can give way to somewhat of a satisfaction and appreciation for the little things that the never-satisfied Time Monster DOES allow you to cherish, all the while knowing that it will eventually come to an end, and another chapter will begin. Maybe the farewell will be said 1 day after the "Nice to meet you"...maybe it will be said 1 year later...but whatever that short time is in the middle, you can learn to enjoy it.

...It's so easy to want to forget people after they're gone from my life and to quit caring about them anymore. it's so natural. and it hurts a lot less sometimes. not forgetting people, in a way, is going against the natural thing for one's mind to do, which means you might be all alone. the natural has made them forget you, but you still cling to memories of them because on a whole other plane, it's not natural at all to forget them. it's impossible...

...and it's all really depressing, really. but once in a while, there's a mutual beautiful agony--the beauty being the life enjoyed together in a brief moment and the agony being the brief moment itself. and maybe it will become more than once in a while after a while. and the "beautiful" part of the agony is enough of a driving force to move any person with a heart to fight through all the natural, depressing moments. as long as the beauty in each encounter is remembered...

And then all of this makes you think about deep, philosophically-oriented questions dealing with purpose, eternity, the concept of hope and happiness, etc. Maybe some answers are discovered...and maybe only more questions are discovered...

(Concerning friends...)
...And this is the part that really weighs on me. Do you know how it feels to write stuff that you can never share with those about whom you wrote it? Do you know what it feels like to not be able to share your deepest and most heartfelt concerns with some people you care about the most? Do you know what it feels like when words are worthless? Do you know how it feels to be helpless, and all you can do is cry from a distance? Once in a while, I’m able to change a mind, but I’ve never changed a heart. God, I can’t change hearts...

And, finally, the question to which you long to know the answer. The question that calls for purpose itself and that unites the tangled chain of thoughts with the reason to wake up tomorrow morning.

Will a gem be found in the ashes? Will there be a ring in the decay?

...May this love be the beginning quiver of a leaf before the rushing of the whirlwind. May this love bring color to the grayness of this world. May this love go where words can't go and eyes can't follow. May this love break through unending facades. Let this love speak. This love…I want this love…

"Not that I have already obtained all this…but I press on…"

The Bridge

2007-01-12T11:58:00.000-05:00

So…ideality: I have an idea of who I want to become. There’s this person who has a dynamic personality yet completely gentle eyes that shine with a confidence that somehow comforts rather than intimidates, dispelling any fear, worry, or even thought of judgment or ridicule (the world many of us live in every day) and naturally generating an atmosphere of safety. His heart is engulfed with a passion and longing for the people he sees everyday—people he’s never even talked to before. His heart breaks when he sees brokenness, smiles when he sees hope, aches when he sees sorrow, dances when he sees joy. And, through this deep care for those around him, people are encouraged, restored, and given hope. For some reason, this is exactly what humanity longs for the most—a someone who simply cares and then throws out everything else that usually comes with the package. To be this detached from the psychological hell we live in now; to become this forgetful of the self that I kneel before every day; to not be a wuss who gets scared and cries whenever the future hints at a possible hurt or pain due to this desired vulnerability—this is a little glimpse of my ideality.

Let’s check out reality real quick: I don’t yet know everything about who I am, but I know way more than I wanted to know. I’m old enough to know that I can’t simply change with a snap of my fingers, or else, by all means, I would be the guy in the paragraph up there, this blog would already be posted, and I would be sleeping happily in my bed right now, completely satisfied with my day of selfless and humble service to those I had met. Nope, there’s definitely something else buried in me. There’s a deep longing to satisfy myself at any cost—the cost of others; the cost of my own physical, emotional, and spiritual health; the cost of love itself. When I see brokenness, I see hopelessness. And as I sit in my cozy little room, deep down inside, I scream to be guarded at all costs against any hint of discomfort that may find its way into my precious little life. Who cares about this “character-building” crap that everyone’s always talking about. I guess sometimes I care about people when they care about me. And sometimes I even write about caring about people even when they don’t care about me. But all of this paints a little bit different picture than the one of who I want to become.

It’s not hard to be a good person in our society because everyone is compared against each other; and it usually tends to be on the basis of pious acts or whatever you want to call it, because how could we really have an “innermost thoughts of the heart” basis of goodness in this society? I gave the most money to the “Save the Children in Africa” fund; I handed out the most socks to homeless people on the streets; I said the most prayers to God—Kazaam! I’m a good person. But what if I wanted to become someone who exceeds any cute, little social standards—that are, sadly, satisfactory for most people—and, instead, actually demonstrates pure thoughts, selfless love, and humble servant hood at the innermost level of the heart?

I’ve thought about this. And my thoughts always lead me back to this question: Why live a life that can only strive for ideality? It’s giving your life for something that maybe can’t even be achieved. It’s striving for the unattainable. Sometimes I get tired of thinking about ideality. It will never happen, so why even entertain the tantalizing thoughts?

But maybe this is where purpose arises. A definition of “purpose,” in a personal-level context, might be “the bridging of the immense gap between ideality and reality.” I’ve seen many people let this concept consume their lives, and, honestly, they are the happiest and most life-giving people I know. It’s a striving for the unattainable. It’s a chasing after the deep, inherent understanding in each of us that whispers that, somewhere, perfection exists.

So, it’s unattainable. But I don’t plan on giving up because, who knows, on my way maybe somebody will follow along on my trek across this infinite bridge from this reality towards perfection—the life-giving perfection the world longs for. And the same perfection Jesus Christ demonstrated on this earth those many years ago.

And who knows, maybe in the end…like, the very end…we’ll find that this Ideality does indeed live—only on a whole different plane of reality.

Christmas in Indonesia II

2006-12-31T05:01:00.000-05:00

I came back to Japan yesterday after spending Christmas in Indonesia with the family. My whole family was there together, which is quite an accomplishment really. We went swimming a lot at our house and also went snorkeling around some islands just north of Java. It was good to see the homies again. I was reminded of how loud my family is, but it was good to be home.

Chillin in the pool

Family portrait

Joy (older sister) and Cambry (my niece). Cambry has the mindset of a kamikaze. She will climb anything anywhere and won't quit until she gets to the top. When she's older, I'm hoping to take her skidiving.

2006-12-11T09:24:00.000-05:00

Adventures from Japan: 友達たちの訪問

2006-12-03T09:28:00.000-05:00

Here are some breathtaking photos from this past weekend. Kelly and Sae came to visit Kumamoto, so all of us former Montanans (from last year) had a good ol' Japanese get-together, remembering how we all loved each other whilst we conversed over our dinner of raw horse meat and rice-balls. We also visited some nice places near my beautiful city of Kumamoto. Check it out...

Welcome to Japan, Kelly.

Chillin on a red bridge.

元気の森。The Forest of Genki. Sae & I snuck in for free on accident. Love when that happens.

The Mighty Blue and Rotating Pipe.

Mt. Everest.

Beautiful Sunrise

2006-11-09T11:42:00.000-05:00

Oh, how tears have fallen for you, Beautiful Sunrise!

Across the horizon, your timid twilight creeps
Yet bound by the night, the darkness; you sleep
Your illumination fades when I look at your eyes
There, only blackness resides, screaming for life

But kissing its death

You lie still, embraced with your lover, your pain,
And watch your dreams walk away
Snatched from your hands, cast to the dirt
Trodden upon by the very blackness you deny
And the faint cry of hope, muffled inside
It too will die
For truth has stumbled in the streets
Taking with it freedom
And you are left

Chained to your lover’s bed

Can a mere stroke of green kill the red that screams?
Can a promise of wings give flight to a stone?

Beautiful Sunrise, will you ever let Day dawn?
A voice in the wilderness cries for you
“The hand is not too short to save
Nor the ear too dull to hear”

Yet only silence remains…

But all hope is not dead
For not all eyes are dry

We can’t say goodbye just yet…

Adventures in Japan: Nerd & Ninjya

2006-11-07T10:43:00.000-05:00

This is me at a big castle.

In other news, we had a Halloween party on Halloween. Sam dressed up like a nerd and I was a ninjya with big eyes. We let some girls use whatever was left in our closets as their costumes.

From the Rising Sun

2006-10-24T09:17:00.000-04:00

What makes dust cry for dust?
Or vapor for vapor?

And my love was like morning dew
But You still called my name
As I walked to my bed of thorns
To sleep in my fortress, adorned with death
My casket of gold

I couldn’t quit waving goodbye

And I never want to forget
Those nights in the desert
Though dark and desolate
As I laid still, longing for the hope trapped in my dreams
Crying for a life not my own
I knew You were there
But why did You hide?

And then the rain came

And now, as we walk in this moment of peace
Watching each precious leaf fall through my life
I would like to offer You my dust as thanks

If I had something more, it would be Yours as well

To have a face of flint
But a heart that changes with the rising of the sun
This is my request
For to awake is my life

Adventures in Japan: あさぎのうち

2006-10-18T12:12:00.000-04:00

Sam and I visited our friend Asagi Masuda's house in Japan. She was in Montana, so we didn't actually get to see her. But we still visited her house. Here's a few pictures of her backyard. 　まじで

Adventures in Japan: Osaka

2006-09-30T01:04:00.000-04:00

Sam and I stopped by Osaka before coming to Kumamoto. Here's a few pictures:

Downtown Osaka. The homies: Sho, Me, Sae, Sam

Chillin with a geisha.

My friend's house in Osaka.

Adventures in Korea

2006-09-28T11:09:00.000-04:00

On the way to Japan, I stopped by Korea (only South Korea this time) to chill with some homies. It was pretty relaxing.

Seoul at night

Me paragliding off of Korea's tallest building

Chillin in Incheon. Such a dirty city.

Opium of the People

2006-09-25T09:55:00.000-04:00

"Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people." -- Karl Marx (Contribution to Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right)

I'm in Japan right now. I went to see a volcano yesterday. It was pretty cool.

One of the many things that I've noticed here that is way different from the culture in which I was raised is the many shrines that can be found at almost every tourist attraction. Often, food and water are left at the shrines out of respect. I haven't yet figured out to what or to whom the respect is given. I'm still learning about the culture.

Anyway, my thoughts have been on religion lately. Thinking of the motivations behind pious acts of people reminded me of Marx's quote. He was talking more about the usefulness of religion in providing an escape from the suffering in the world, but the principle he conveys is really profound. Why do people visit temples? Why do people leave food at shrines? Why do people pray five times a day? Why do people give money to churches and charities? The questions could go on, but the point is that there is something about piety that can act as fuel to the human mind and body. It's almost as if a longing is buried deep in humanity--a longing for true and perfect beauty, a hidden knowledge of perfection. We can all understand that "better" exists, but it is as if this understanding lurks just below the surface of translation into concrete thought. What is perfection? It is almost as if this inherent understanding of perfection vanishes as soon as an attempt is made to bring it into the world of concrete thoughts.

What if pious acts stem from this longing of humanity? What it comes down to is that doing good things makes a person feel good about himself/herself. I see religion as an attempt at restoration. It’s a search for that glimpse of perfection that remains in our being though the dream has faded.

Unlike Karl Marx, I happen to believe that there is a living God who cares deeply about the affairs of His creation. I do, however, agree with Karl Marx’s statements on religion. I’m not very old, but so far from my observations of the people around me, I can say confidently that humanity craves purpose. This craving for purpose along with a lost understanding of the living God has led to the creation of religion.

Religion is a structure that enables people to feel belonging and to ease their conscience. For the most part, religion is pretty easy. Leave food at a shrine, go to church, fast every once in a while, don’t eat pork, etc. It takes a little discipline, but the reward is an eased conscience and maybe even some like-minded friends. So, it’s as easy as 1, 2, 3. In a way, it makes perfect sense. Following a structure means that there is a list laid out before you. This is good and that is bad. And, being people with a brain that is constantly working to categorize new information, this formulized way of living can look really attractive.

I guess you could say that I have broken away from religion in recent years. Like I said, I believe there is a living God Who desires a relationship with each person in this world. Relationships throw our categorizing minds into confusion. There is no list involved; rather, it is an interactive way of living involving a whole gamut of thoughts, emotions, feelings, and choices. Instead of having an outline of “How to be pious,” a deep trust and confidence must be relied upon for direction. And all that crap buried deep down in my life that I don’t want to deal with—all the selfish motives, the covetous thoughts, the bitter attitudes, the pain and wounds—it can’t remain buried. That stuff doesn’t need to be touched when there is a structure to guide the outward way of living, but a healthy relationship can’t continue without change. But this is where the purpose/fulfillment/true joy come in. It’s a glimpse of perfection.

Religion is a sort of opium. But what’s the real world like? That’s the question, I guess. I think truth is important for people to think about on their own instead of merely believing what everyone says about truth nowadays—“Everyone has their own truth and no matter what someone believes, it’s right.” That’s one of the most cognitively lazy statements I have ever heard. But I will save my thoughts on this for another blog sometime. Within the next five years…

Selamat Malam...

2006-09-18T22:33:00.000-04:00

My season in the jungle has come to an end, but my adventures are far from over...

Adventures from the Jungle: The Philippines

2006-08-23T02:42:00.000-04:00

My most recent trek took me to the Philippines where I explored volcanos and islands and island volcanos.

Relaxing on the island of Boracay

My brother Ryan on the beach

Ryan climbing a tree

Rocky beach

Mt. Taal, the island volcano

Adventures from the Jungle: Yogyakarta

2006-08-13T10:24:00.000-04:00

August 6, 2006
His name is Danis (Don-ees). He is from the tribe known as the Danis of Papua, formerly known as Irian Jaya, the easternmost island of Indonesia. His name is pronounced the same as his people group. What if I named my kid “American”…

Ryan, me, and Danis at ancient temple ruins in Yogyakarta

I really should learn Indonesian someday, if only to communicate with this man. From what my other Papuan friend has told me about him, Danis seems to be a very influential man in this country. He has been leading relief efforts in Aceh (the part of Indonesia destroyed by the tsunami around Christmas time of 2004) and Yogyakarta (hit by a massive earthquake that killed over 5,000 people last May). He took us to a place in Yogyakarta (or Yogya) that his team had come to after the earthquake. This place was one of the places that had gotten the worst of the quake. Almost everyone’s houses (shacks) had been destroyed, so Danis and his team were working at building new houses for these people using wood for the structure, bamboo for the walls, and tin sheets for the roofs. I didn’t need to know the language to see that these villagers loved Danis and his team for the kindness they had shown to them. We drove by other areas hit hard by the quake and noticed that some of these other areas were deserted. Nobody had come to help them rebuild their houses, so what could they do? There are not a lot of options in a place like this.

Adventures from the Jungle: Part 1

2006-08-07T07:41:00.000-04:00

I am in Indonesia chillin at my parents’ place in Jakarta for the rest of the summer. The first three days here, however, were spent making visits to mountain villages of Java.
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August 4, 2006
I’m a baby again. I open my eyes and they are immediately taken captive to these intriguing sights. My eyes have never seen these things before. For a North Dakotan like me, this drive through these obscure villages buried in the mountains of West Java has not been a regular, dull, hypnotic 2-hour drive. The trees, the houses (shacks), the mosques, the alleys, the people, the colors, the whole structure of life…I’m a newborn in a fascinating new world.

Questions flood my mind as I drive through these people’s worlds. What goes through their minds as they live their own, unique mundane? What do they love? What do they hate? What is their excitement? What is their sadness? What keeps them moving every morning? What are their goals, their hopes?

This is a crazy place, man. And I love it.

Adventures from the Jungle: Part 2

2006-08-07T07:05:00.000-04:00

August 4, 2006
We sit on the concrete floor in a little room that must be considered the living room by the family who lives here. The villagers present in the room begin telling their stories. Through the translator I am able to get a deeper understanding of who these people are. Many of them were forced to move to this area because the radical Muslim communities where they once lived did not accept their beliefs in Jesus the Messiah (Isa al Masih). One man told of how he had grown up a radical Muslim. He had attended a radical Muslim university, read books on how to be a terrorist, and stood in opposition to those who did follow Islam. But that had all changed three years ago when he was finally convinced that Isa al Masih was the Way to receive eternal life. Other villagers shared about how they had been very sick and had tried to get healing through the witch doctors’ black magic, but nothing had worked until somebody had prayed for them in Jesus’ name. They then decided to follow Jesus with their life.

All of these people are very brave, their confidence stemming from a deep love for Isa, their Savior and Lord. This whole area is filled with radical followers of Islam. You do not want to be seen with a Bible in this area, but this isn’t even a problem for most of these people because they have no copies of their own.

Adventures from the Jungle: Part 3

2006-08-07T06:05:00.000-04:00

August 4, 2006
We keep climbing. By now, the steady shaking and rattling has faded to only background noise to the sensory. This is courtesy of an unkempt paved road high in a mountain village. I haven’t seen another vehicle for quite some time now. The stares from the villagers alongside the road seem to confirm my observation. The thick walls of tropical vegetation lining the road is a sight unfamiliar to me. This is the closest I’ve ever been to being Tarzan. The road breaks into a clearing and we come to a stop. After a short hike down a dirt path, we enter a tiny village consisting of wood and bamboo houses. We’ve arrived at our second destination of the day.

Like our first stop, this community was formed by ten families who had confessed to Jesus, and, as a result, needed to relocate. We walked into an empty concrete room, which I again conclude has to be the living room. I take a look around, finding a small room adjacent to the living room. In it, four teenage guys sit making Adidas soccer balls. Interesting. They were coming along quite nice. Whether or not those Adidas balls are the ones I see in sports stores all around the world, I'll never know; but regardless, every time I see an Adidas soccer ball, my mind will give me a picture of those guys in that small room in that small house in that small village high in the mountains of West Java.

Farewell, O Mountainous One

2006-07-25T13:39:00.000-04:00

This will be my last day in Montana for over a year. I will head to North Dakota for a few days before flying to Indonesia and eventually moving on to Japan to spend the next year, where I hope to become a real ninjya.

In other news, I was reading an article in a neuroscience magazine that talked about the blood-brain barrier composed of endothelial cells that's found in the blood vessels leading to the brain. This barrier guards against substances in the air, water, food, body's own hormones, etc. that would totally mess things up if allowed into the brain's bloodstream. So like, the blood supplied to the brain and central nervous system is filtered like crazy. Ecstasy and heroine are bad for you because they can wear-down the blood-brain barrier, making it more permeable to harmful substances. That's pretty messed, man. So, I guess, like...if you could somehow draw a main point from this last paragraph, it would have to be "Don't do drugs cause they can cause the filter system of the blood-brain barrier in your body to become more permeable, severely impairing the brain's functioning."

Back to the main topic...

Actually, I don't think I have anything else to say. So now all I need is a cool picture to make this the best blog I've ever written.

Me and my dawgs (nephew and brother)

A Glimpse

2006-07-13T01:21:00.001-04:00

I remember back in the day when my friends and I all worked as counselors at a kid’s camp during the summers. The director of the camp at that time was a man named Morris, who was known for his unearthly ability to sneak into cabins at night without the slightest hint of detection among the kids or the counselors. The most common use of this phantom ability was to make sure all was well with the kids during the counselor’s “night out.” There are endless stories of him catching the kids at the peak of their mischief, when they thought nobody was looking. The stories are quite funny, really. Also, completely amazing, some of them.

One of my first years as a counselor, I remember Morris saying something to the effect of “At camp every night I go to bed with a smile on my face.” At the time, it didn’t strike me as anything incredibly profound—like, it was cool that he cared about these kids and that it made him happy to run this camp every year. Yeah, cool.

So, I remember one night at camp a few years back. I was giving devotions to a cabin full of fourteen 11-year old boys before we turned the lights out. One of these boys who had been working up a ADHD reputation over the week was especially hyper this night (because, he claimed, he had too much sugar in his system from the ice cream sundae he had eaten right before devotions that night) and was finding it hard to focus on settling down and listening to my authority. He kept distracting the other boys, and this makes devotions impossible because a cabin full of fourteen 11-year old boys is a delicate thing. It doesn’t take long for the short, little fuse to disappear and the cabin to erupt in fits of laughter and farting noises and everything the opposite of being serious.

This one night, I pulled out everything to try to get this kid to settle down, the final “threat” being: “If you don’t settle down, I’m gonna have to send you to Morris.” This statement usually generates a room full of gasps from the other kids. It means “This is your last chance. One more wrong move, and you will begin the death march [the march to Morris’s trailer].” It’s funny, kinda…the “bad kids” who have been sent to Morris find out that it isn’t bad at all. They find that Morris actually doesn’t sit them in a chair and scream at them with vein-popping force, head two inches from their face, telling them how they’re total screw-ups and their life is worthless. Yeah, that actually doesn’t happen. Maybe he sits them in a chair…but after that Morris just asks them questions about their life in a calm, friendly manner.

BUT, this kid didn’t know that yet, because he had never taken the death march. This particular night would change that, however, because my power had run dry. It was time to carry through with my threat. “Zach, get your shoes on…”

“No, no! I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Too late. I already warned you. Where’s your shoes?”

Zach silently dismounts his bunk, a sense of dread evident in his eyes, as one awaiting something terrible. I drop him off at the trailer and come back, smiling to myself, confident in the little secret of Morris’s kindness.

Not long after devotions finish and the lights are turned out, Zach returns to the now silent cabin and quietly climbs back into his bunk. After a little while, I go over to see what’s up. “How’s it goin?” I whisper.

“I can’t sleep. I think I’ve just had too much sugar tonight. That’s why I was hyper.”

“Yeah, it happens. Just try to take some deep breaths.”

I can tell it might be a little while before he falls asleep, so I proceed to ask him some questions about his talk with Morris, about the week at camp, about his family, all the while rubbing his back as he lies in bed, as my mom would sometimes do for me when I couldn’t fall asleep. After maybe fifteen minutes or so, his eyes are closed and our conversation has finally reached its end.

That night a sliver of a very important truth found its way into my mind. I had every right to be angry at this kid. A week at camp is not exactly a week of vacation for the counselors. Sleep becomes very precious. Because Zach wouldn’t settle down, I lost some of that precious sleep. Also, he had distracted the other kids from listening to some important things I was sharing with them about life. He hadn’t understood what really matters; he hadn’t understood that being a counselor isn’t a cakewalk; he hadn’t understood that some of the other kids wanted to listen to my words. I had every right to be mad at this kid.

But…I wasn’t. He couldn’t fall asleep, and I cared. Sure, I cared because I wanted to go to sleep and I wanted the rest of the kids to stay asleep, but more than that, I cared because I wanted him to peacefully sleep. What is it about living for something outside of self that brings fulfillment to self? What is it about dying to self and serving others that brings life to that very self that died? What is it about the agony of love that brings beauty and joy to a soul? What if this was the very reason for which we were created? I understood something that night, something not taught with words or by human wisdom. I was shown a glimpse of reality.

That night I went to bed with a smile on my face.

Hiking

2006-05-17T19:16:00.000-04:00

Some of us went hiking the other day and took some cool pics.
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Streetballaz and Asians

2006-05-04T19:12:00.000-04:00

It's finals week, so I figured I'd post a blog instead of studying.
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Streetballa

I just wanted to share with everyone a picture that I drew of a streetballa two years ago. I'm kind of proud of it becuase it took me a while to get the proportions right. I did it freehand, too.

Uhm...in other news...I got my plane ticket for my trip to Indonesia, Korea, and Japan this summer.

Sho Nakajima

I'm planning to visit my friend Sho in Japan in September. The last thing he said to me last year before leaving the U.S. to go back to Japan was "Take a shower."

He always tells people that his mom looks like a horse. I didn't know what he meant until I met her.

Anyways, I gotta go take another final. Peace out...

And Yet It Remains...

2006-04-28T03:08:00.000-04:00

I will love you from a distance
I will lift you up with invisible hands

And if you ever dare to move
Or simply pass a curious glance down below
To search from whence this touch came
To find the voice that never ceases to call your name

You won't find a face
Nor any stately form of a man
Only a reflection will be seen
However dim it may seem
Not a beaty to attract
No—one so much deeper
A shadow taking form
Through change, through seasons
Through the hail, through the flame
It will not die
For death has been swallowed
The grave has died and has left freedom alive
Freedom to give life through pain, hope through defeat

Let me freely give…

I pray that you will see not what I am
But rather this hope that I have

2006-04-24T03:17:00.000-04:00

Here's my brother in a banana suit.

Here's my friend with a mullet.

Unkoman

2006-03-31T19:14:00.000-05:00

Lay to waste this wasteland

Rip these dark glasses off my face
Let me again see the colors of this world
What is beauty? What is rot?
Who am I to rise so arrogantly from my throne of waste
And judge these deep mysteries
Deeper than words, deeper than a face

Yet these eyes torment me without end
Will I let beauty be that which deceives?
"The grass withers and the flower fades"
But beauty will not be so easily stolen away
For only when scars are forgotten
And fire becomes merely a fleeting breath
Then will beauty die too

Deeper
Beauty resides
In the deeper place
Where love can arise

Spring Break

2006-03-22T02:38:00.000-05:00

Here's a few pictures from the Spring Break trip to Portland and San Francisco. I'll write something cool later. Or something.

Hanging out in San Francisco

Jumping over a Korean

A few of the homies

We should start a band

In the Words of Jake

2006-03-05T18:00:00.000-05:00

So, Sam and I have been thinking a lot about something Jake told us recently.

He said, "The only reason a guy should ever hang out with girls is to check them out to see if they have qualities characteristic of a good wife."

I don't know. What does everybody think about this?

Thoughts of a Child

2006-03-05T15:10:00.000-05:00

I can still remember a lot of the thoughts I had as a kid if I think hard enough. Most of these thoughts have just become so intricately woven into the foundation of who I am now that I don't even ponder the origin of this foundation sometimes. But I was recollecting today about what I believed about Jesus as a kid, and here's some thoughts I had.

I remember knowing Jesus as a kid. It was simple. I believed that Jesus was real, that He cared about me, and that He saw everything I did. I believed God was the Creator of the universe and that He could do anything. Sometimes I would hear adults talking about how they could relate with Peter when he denied Jesus or Jonah when he refused to go to Ninevah or Jesus' friends when they thought Jesus was a ghost after He came back alive. The truth is that I didn't feel that I could relate to these people. Why would Peter ever be ashamed of Jesus? Why would Jonah ever be hesitant to obey God or upset when the wicked repented and followed God? Why were Jesus' friends surprised when He appeared to them after dying--after all, He had told them many times that He was going to die and then come back to life. Why was it hard to believe? Where was their faith?

It's interesting how time can work to shift structures that once seemed strong and proud, free of any impairment or fault. If I was to step out of time to view my thoughts on a linear timeline, I think I would find that I've become the "adult" that I could never understand as a kid. I relate with Peter. I relate with Jonah. I relate with unbelief, lack of faith, apathy, fear, self-centeredness. What happened? I'm gonna use a quote from my friend Ben. He said this:

"I hate reality. It ruins everything."

He used it in a totally different context--like, how we lack money and time to do the awesome ideas we dream up--but it fits into this discussion of "thoughts shaped by time," as well. Time brings with it reality. Not necessarily real reality; rather, reality that we see.

As a child, it was easy to believe that anything was possible. As time progressed, I found out that the world wasn't as idealistic as I thought. For example, God doesn't seem faithful sometimes because He doesn't always answer prayers, even completely pure and good prayers. Does this mean God isn't faithful? In my head I know that God is faithful and that His plan is good, but so often my heart finds it way harder to believe this. I can't claim to completely understand all the underlying reasons behind questions like this, but here are a few things that I do know: 1) God is good, 2) Evil is present in this world, 3) Evil is present in me. I think it's important to understand that real evil plays a big role in destroying ideality. This evil is present in this everyday reality that we experience.

Another thing that I've noticed is that, as a child, there is not a high level of self-monitoring going on. As I grew up, I gradually discovered the eyes of others. This led me to see myself in a whole new way and drastically affected my image and behavior. On one hand, this allowed me to relate to others better, but it also came at the cost of worry ushered in by the fear of rejection.

So yeah...Peter and Jonah. I can relate. But I wish I couldn't. My wish and my goal is to remain a kid forever. Someone who is free from wounds of disappointment, free from the fear of man, free from the scars of rebellion, free from the burden of self-centeredness--Someone who sees trust and love as simple--the way I believe Jesus intended it to be seen.

Jesus, deliver me from this wretched adulthood and let me be a kid again.

"Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." -- Matthew 18:3

"Reckless Endangerment" - Part II

2006-02-27T18:37:00.000-05:00

So I went to court today. I just showed the judge this picture that my dad took in Indonesia, and he was like "That's a good point; you're free to go." (Read story below if you want to know why I was in court.)

(Your Honor, in my defense...)

Not really. But things did turn out ok. Turns out the cop wrote the wrong number on my ticket, so the judge didn't know what the charge was (it was "reckless endangerment"). So I kept my mouth shut cause "reckless endangerment" sounds pretty bad, and I think it is. So the judge read the description of the charge from the ticket, which says "clinging to vehicle," and then looked up a charge that says that it's illegal to ride on the sideboards of moving vehicles. It was a total fine of $135. That's not too bad, considering what the original charge was. So, I guess I'll go with that.

I'm hoping to go pick up my confiscated camcorder tape tomorrow. After all, that tape cost me $135. Money can be forgotten...memories are forever...rock on...

A Story of "Reckless Endangerment"

2006-02-26T23:35:00.000-05:00

This is a story that Jake wrote on his blog site. It's about our recent Saturday night experience.
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My body was spread out like a hand over the car, my legs draping over the front bumper – a strange sort of frippery – as I clutched the hood with mild concern. I was tempted to pull away the hair blowing into my eyes, but was worried about losing my grip as the car drove along. After all, my free hand was already propping a cell-phone against my face. “What the heck is going on?” came the concerned voice on the other end.

Peering through the windshield I could see two delighted faces, one of which was hidden behind a camcorder with a little red flashing light. I waved at the camera, briefly, before returning to my handhold. “I’m hoping I don’t fall under a wheel-well,” I answered back into the phone.

After several blocks, the car slowed to a stop. The faces behind the glass were agape and well illuminated by the strobing shades of blue and red. I hung up the phone and quickly climbed into the back seat. “I’ll hide the camera under your seat,” said Sam.

“No, leave it out.” Rob took the camera and looked down into it. “I am being pulled over by cops. There are two squad cars,” he narrated.

After a few moments, the first officer tapped on his window, the driver’s side, and asked, “Do you know why I pulled you over?"

“Because there was a guy riding on my hood?”

"I want all of your I.D.'s."

The other officer stood at my window and asked me to step out. It was a woman. "Please place your hands on the vehicle. I'm just gonna do a check to see if you have anything you could hurt me with." She patted me up and down, asking things like, "Is that a cell phone? Is that a lighter?" Yes. Yes.

"Could you please explain for me what you were doing?" she asked.

I thought for a moment, vacillating over how to approach an answer. She was going to hear the long of it. "Well, it is laundry night, you see, and I wanted to go to Duds 'n Suds. Rob, the driver, said it didn't make sense, seeing as it is across town. But, the thing you should know about me is that I am a creature of habit." She nodded, taking me very seriously. I had hoped to make her smile. "Anyway, we couldn't agree on where to go, so the guys grabbed my basket of laundry and ran into their car. I chased them and climbed on the hood, hoping to dissuade them from thieving my clothes. All in good fun, of course."

"Uh huh."

"So, he started driving very slowly. He couldn't have been going faster than ten miles-per-hour." That was probably a lie.

She nodded and asked how far we drove. "Oh, I live only a few blocks down. Not far at all." It was more like five blocks. Was I lying?

Back in the car, the male officer asked Rob if the camcorder was on. Rob lifted it up to him, flipping the power switch discreetly just in case he had forgotten to turn it off. The cop took the tape for evidence. If the officers were actually bored enough to watch the tape, they would be delighted to find footage of us driving around town with Ryan in the trunk, pounding and complaining. Plus, they would find heart-rending footage of the guys dancing and emoting to So Happy Together, alongside stock footage of Saudi-Arabians dancing joyously, holding pictures of King Fahd Bin Abdul Aziz.

The woman approached Rob's window and said, "I'm going to give you a citation for reckless endangerment. I could have given you one for criminal negligence, which would be a more expensive fine." She made it sound like she was being magnanimous, and would probably have appreciated it if we had seen things her way, something our expressions obviously betrayed. We tried to be serious, but every time they left our vehicle to talk, they must have seen the car rocking back and forth from our fits of laughter. "You have one week to be in court."

Sam, trying his hardest to restrain his laughter, leaned over to me and whispered, "Isn't this legal in Mexico? [Heck, they stop you if you have fewer than seven people in your vehicle]. I should bolt out of the car to see what they'll do."

After the officers had left, Rob hung his head in despair. "Are you alright?" we asked. I suddenly felt bad for him. The charge was actually fairly serious. He looked up and said, "Man, they took all that great footage."

After all was said and done, we drove to Rob's laundry-mat. The quarter machine wouldn't take our money.
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So yeah, I have to go to court tomorrow. We'll see what happens. I prepared some notes for my defense. In all seriousness, going snowboarding on the weekend is probably more dangerous than what we were doing because I wasn't even driving fast.

We'll see what the judge thinks...

Shinite-noka

2006-02-24T17:30:00.000-05:00

My friends and I have been training to be ninjyas for quite some time now. It's not easy being a ninjya. The main reason we put so much time into it is because we're hoping to use it as a means to take over the world some day.

So I'd just like to encourage everyone out there to not give up, but keep pursuing your hopes and dreams even if it gets hard sometimes.

The Kamikaze

2006-02-23T02:53:00.000-05:00

Kamikazes.

The concept is fascinating to me. To think that a person could be so in love and yet so detached. Living in reckless abandonment of all that hinders. Reckless abandonment in the name of loyalty and love.

It's a different way of thinking about it. I'm sure all kamikazes did not have this mindset. But I would bet that there was quite a number of them who did indeed see things this way. Giving oneself for one's loved ones. It's a beautiful thing, really.

Kamikaze means "God's wind."

I want to be a kamikaze. I want to be the breath of God, floating freely in the reality of the imperceivable. One who lives in reckless abandonment of all that hinders. Reckless abandonment in the name of loyalty and love.

Watashi ha kamikaze no yoo ni naritai.

I Hate Christianity - Part I: Christianity, the Culture

2006-02-02T23:03:00.000-05:00

One time I watched a PBS video called "What About God?" and it was an attempt to reconcile science and religion. And the main thing I remember was that the Christians who held a biblical creation view were only intelligent enough to say stuff like "I believe God created the world in seven days because the Bible says so." That was actually one of the main themes from the video: Christians who believe the Bible are ignorant, and they don't know anything about real science. So, I have mixed feelings on this. It's obviously false that there aren't any scientific-minded people who believe in the biblical account of creation. In fact, there are many incredibly smart scientists who believe in creation as outlined in the Bible. But here's the other part: There are many Christians who only hold to the "The Bible says so" mindset. And this is the mindset that has become associated with the word "Christian," in general.

Here's an observation when looking over the Christians in America: nobody thinks. Nobody needs to; rather, they just need to follow in the steps of the culture that has been laid out before them. It's not hard to be a Christian. There are Christian magazines that tell Christians what to think about pop culture. There are Christian books that tell Christians how to be a successful Christian. There are Christian television shows that tell Christians what to care about. There are Christian talk shows that tell Christians what political views they should have. Christian-ese is the heralded language in churches. "Church" can only be understood in terms of singing and a sermon—apart from that, the concept doesn't exist. "The world" is the workplace and schools. "Witnessing" means wearing some shirt that cleverly rips-off some brand name and instead sticks "Jesus" in the label. Being unashamed means putting some type of Jesus bumper sticker on your car. Speaking truth is always a victory to be rejoiced over regardless of whether or not it makes people hate you. "Winning souls" is the game; manipulation the game piece. Getting saved is easy—just four steps. If one can just get his friend past "the sinner's prayer," ultimate victory has been attained.

This subculture in America has become known as "Christianity."

Where's the problem?

Problem: We associate being part of this Christian subculture with knowing Jesus Christ. That's an incredibly huge problem.

Furthermore, we think that for a person to begin a relationship with Jesus Christ, he/she has to step out of whatever culture he/she was previously in and into this "Christian culture." Having an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ should never force anyone to have to step out of one culture into a completely different culture. It may drastically change a lifestyle, yes, but I don't think that there should ever be a clearcut culture associated with knowing Jesus Christ, as Christianity in America has tried to make. Sometimes it seems Christians are too caught up with creating and maintaining an image of "the ideal Christian" that they forget the profoundness in simply loving others.

I Hate Christianity - Part II: "Hate for Jesus"

2006-02-01T22:57:00.000-05:00

More on "Hating Christianity":

So, speaking of hating Christianity, I was chillin' with a friend of mine and a few other people a while back, and they were getting pretty wasted and stuff. So, after a while, religion became the topic of conversation. One of the guys (who was pretty drunk by this time) had many strong opinions on religion, most notably, Christianity. One of his statements, though spoken from an intoxicated mind and extremely tainted worldview, still rings in my head. He said, "If Jesus were still alive today, I would put Him up on the cross again." This statement might arouse shock and anger in most people, whether they are part of the religion of Christianity or not. All it left me with, however, was deep sadness. Sadness for his soul and tainted perception, yes; but also sadness because I understood. I understood why a person could make a statement such as this. By no means should it be justified, but, by all means, it should be understood.

This guy went on to talk about how he had never seen anything good come from church. All he saw was greed—a desire for money and a desire for power. For those of us who have been raised in somewhat conservative Christian homes, we've all heard the "love of money" sermons. I was taught as a kid that there were many churches that only want money and blah blah blah, and we should want to love God more than money. It's totally true, but it's not what I want to talk about. The greedy churches are only a part of a way more subtle bigger problem. This bigger problem is the Christian mindset shaped by the Christian culture.

So often, Christians are too wrapped up in claiming "hate for Jesus" ("If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated Me first." John 15:18) that they don't have the awareness to step back and see how ridiculous they actually look sometimes. I don't want to degrade people who honestly have good hearts, but I think this needs to be said because it is really important for people wrapped up in the Christian subculture to forget the perspectives of those on the "outside." So often, in this Christian subculture, we're bombarded with the ideals of "not being ashamed" and "not caring what others think" and "taking an insult for Jesus" that we have completely subverted any healthy sense of understanding our surroundings. This is why there are masses of people out there who see Christians only as judgmental and self-righteous mama's boys. Words of Christians have never saved anyone. God's pretty good at speaking to people in their own language though.

So...key point: There's a difference between taking an insult for Jesus and being stupid.

Understanding the thoughts of others around us is a vital part of Jesus' most important instructions: to love one another. Knowing a person's thoughts serves as the gateway into their heart. Whenever the focus is taken off of those around us and put on ourselves because (while we blindly claim to exalt the name of Jesus), then we are failing to do the very thing which Jesus tried to drill in our heads the most--to love one another.

I Hate Christianity - Part III: The Christian Drive-by

2006-02-01T22:13:00.000-05:00

I remember a couple times back in high school when I would be driving around town with some friends and something would prompt one of them to yell out "Jesus loves you" to people on the streets. All I remember is being really confused. Did they want the passers-by to think they were cool? Like when you meet somebody who's dressed really cool, you want them to think you are cool, so the first thing you do is either try to say something cool or else just give a slight nod that says enough in itself...even though you might never see the person again. I don't think that's what my friends were going for though. Seems like they would've said something like "Boom diggiddy" or "Yo, check it" or "Peace, to all my homies passin by...on the fly..." I'm pretty sure EVERYBODY would agree that those are like...the ultimate cool sayings.

What is more likely is that my friends were trying to spread Jesus' love by yelling out "Jesus loves you!" But this method will never make any sense to me. If I was walking down the street and someone yelled out their window to me "Jesus loves you," I would probably yell back "Prove it!" as they drove away. It's hard for me to believe that simply throwing Jesus' name around will bring deep healing love to this world. It's so effortless. And pointless. Love is a whole different ballgame. But whatever. It's not worth it to make a big deal over something that doesn't matter either way.

However, it's pretty tempting for me to draw an analogy between this experience and a broader picture of the Chrisitan culture in general. It's a really sad analogy. But here it is:

How many times have I driven away after effortlessly voicing a solution or, even worse, an opinion, to a individual in desperate need of real love and friendship? It's easy to be a Christian as long as one can remain comfortably seated in the confines of a vehicle racing through a world marked by poverty and hate. Once in a while we will roll down the window and yell out "Jesus loves you!" so that we feel a little better about ourselves. Saying "Jesus loves you" is easy and requires pretty much zero effort. Becoming Jesus' love can be flippin hard sometimes.

There are a lot of other instances where I've noticed the Christian culture only yelling their beliefs and opinions out the window as they race by. One instance of this is in regard to the issue of homosexuality. It seems as though there are many Christians that are so adamant about "fighting the good fight," (as they might call it--I would call it "treating homosexuals as their archenemies"), that they forget that homosexuals are, in fact, people. People with struggles, wounds, and a need for Jesus' love--just like any other people in the world.

So, where's the practicality in all of this? I think one of the ways that I "drive away" many times is simply by not taking time to pray for others. If God is actually real and if He is actually the Creator of the universe and if He is actually a loving God, then it would totally make sense to ask Him to help other people know more about His love. Yeah, it makes sense. Why not stop the vehicle, get out, and look the passer-by in the eye. What does this passer-by long for? What does this passer-by need?

My friend Mark the Samurai has, at times, been a good example to me of this loving and attentive attitude. Here's parts of an email he sent to me once:

"I picked up a male prostitute two days ago. I preached Christ hard with
amazing love... it was all divine - I drove past him and God told me to pick him up... and I was like 'I don't want to..' but then I was like... 'man ... so much for my prayer that I will be poor and contrite as dust...' so I turned around and gladly parked and walked up to him... he was standing outside of a bar and he was dressed super gay. I was like.. 'what's up dude? Wanna go get some Taco Johns? I'll pay!' He was like'...uh... uh.... ok...'"

"I talked to that guy.... he was completely miserable... he gets $40 every time he lets this older rich guy use him. My heart just broke.... we had Taco Johns and I kept telling him stuff like 'Dude, God is SO AWESOME... He has a PERFECT plan for you! He will give you complete joy and peace! Look at me...' (he looked me in the eyes for once) I said 'I see so much darkness in your eyes' - I said this compassionately... not mean or judgemental... just lamenting with him about his horrible life... I was like, 'Dude, Christ will put light and happiness in your eyes, you need to give the Lord your life man...'"

That's the real stuff. Listening to God. Sometimes I think Christians can be too busy going to church to listen to God. I don't mean that statement literally. Ya gotta read a little deeper. What I mean is that so many Christians that I've known worry way more about following their religion than about following Jesus.

Yeah, so...Death to religion.

Farewell.

New Year's in Japan

2006-01-06T00:21:00.000-05:00

I spent New Year's Day in Japan hanging out with all my Jap friends. While we were in Japan, we went to Osaka Jo, Kinkakuji (gold temple in Kyoto), Toudaiji (some place with a big statue of Buddha), and random other places.

It was interesting to see how completely different Indonesian and Japanese cultures are. They were polar opposites in so many ways. Japan is super expensive, Indonesia is super cheap; Japan is very technologically advanced, Indonesia isn't (my parents just sent me a story about a train roof collapsing in Jakarta from so many people riding on the top of the train); Japan people are very busy, Indonesia people can commonly be seen sitting alongside the streets with nothing to do; etc.

As a final assessment, I would probably have to say I liked Indonesia better than Japan (gomen nasai, Nihonjins). It's hard to beat a place with a tropical climate where the food is good, everything is cheap, and there are no rules. Oh yeah, and the people are super friendly all the time. Indonesia is my home. But, hey...let's not forget that Japan was pretty flippin awesome, too.

Here's some pictures of me and my homies in Japan.

My Japanese friend's house

Near Osaka Castle

Some famous place in Japan

Christmas at the Equator

2005-12-24T02:14:00.000-05:00

Yo Yo Diggiddy. So I'm in Indonesia chillin at my parents' house for Christmas. It's pretty cool. It's Christmas today. The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was go swimming in the pool in the backyard.

---

Indonesia has been fun. We explored a volcano and some jungle islands so far. My brother got eaten by a shark. It was sad for a while, but it's been three days so I'm over it now.

---

Ok, so just kiddin about the shark part. But here's some pictures of the other stuff.

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In the jungle

At a volcano

In a volcano

Dreaming Through Dark Glass

2005-12-10T06:34:00.000-05:00

I think I glanced at your face as you walked through my life
Seems like we shared a laugh, maybe we cried
I remember saying farewell before awakening to my next dream
Diluted with time, these memories will be
Though so fervently they drive us now
As we strive in our vain labor, aloof in our dream

And when the blossoms cease to bloom
On that day when I, at last, awake
Will a gem be found in the ashes?
Will there be a ring in the decay?
Were these dreams in vain?
Was there any truth to be saved?

Come, Perfection, and shatter these delusive shades that I see
Let the darkness fade to nothing
As I stand face to face with thee
Let me see the eternal beauty
In these leaves' endless change

The Banquet Fest

2005-12-06T00:23:00.000-05:00

A lot of Asians showed up

The epitome of "cool"

Yeah...she totally digs me...

Thanksgiving Days

2005-12-05T23:34:00.000-05:00

Here are some cool moments that were captured over the Thanksgiving break.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jumping off a roof

Chillin on top of a silo in ND

The homies

China Should Take Over The World

2005-11-17T01:10:00.000-05:00

Initially, I wasn't going to express my world and political views on this website, but this morning when I was riding through the forest on my bike, sipping my morning coffee, I came to the realization that these views need to be heard.

I think China should take over the world by whatever means necessary. I've always wanted to live in China, and the easiest way for that to happen is for the place I'm living now to become China. So the question arises of "Maybe not everyone wants to live in China." Well...I disagree. If people were more honest with themselves I think they might find that, yes, they too have a deep desire to live in China.

If there are certain countries that resist China's peaceful aggression, then those countries should be taken by force or else completely destroyed. It makes sense.

I also think that everyone should speak Chinese, or at least some form of "Asian." My Japanese friend (his name is Sho Nakijima, in case anybody knows him) once told me that "it's all the same," referring to Asian languages. I actually didn't know that for a fact until he told me. So yeah, all Asian languages are the same, I guess.

The reasons why China should take over the world are pretty obvious, I think. So...I'm not even going to write about them.

Well, that's about it. Until next time!

Oh, and I'll post a picture of that Japanese guy so that everyone can see what "cool" is.
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Flying Like A Cat

2005-11-15T17:10:00.000-05:00

So yeah, I used to be pretty good at flying, but then I don't know what happened. All I know is that I can't even dunk a basketball now.

I Like To Biking

2005-11-09T00:51:00.000-05:00

I'm broken.

I need to be whole.

...which means I need to be broken
(but I don't know what brokenness is)
...which means I need to trust
(but I don't know what trust is)
...which means I need to be confident in love
(but I don't know what love is)
...which means I'm shallow
(I don't know who I am)
...which means I'm deep
(cause I know Love)

Dude, this is so abstract and practical at the same time. Ya gotta read Jake's blog called "Know Thyself" to even come close to understanding the last line. http://jacobfranklinbruner.blogspot.com/

Cool Story

2005-11-07T19:23:00.000-05:00

One time I fell off a 30-ft cliff at Zion Canyon National Park. It was pretty cool except I couldn't walk for a week.

THE END

Building A Bridge From Brokenness

2005-11-05T17:57:00.000-05:00

Sadness hides behind my eyes
Like a glacial mass floating below
My heart cries, but you would never know
Nor would it matter if you were told

Day after day my heart pleads life for you
While you dance alone in your casket of gold
So secure in your cocoon, so you think
But where is your hope?

May I be cursed if I rest
And sleep as you do in your death
Lest I cease to fill this gap
And forget to cry for you

I want to fall on my knees
To lift you high to my King
For I can never be the savior you need
Though my heart oft' desires this deceit

I can only fall so that you can see beyond me
Past the imperfection, past the incomplete
To the One Who unites
What I am and what I can't be

Numb To The World

2005-10-29T16:53:00.000-04:00

Sometime around a week ago, I found myself using a phrase that I often hear falling from my own lips--"numb to the world." I think I was politely asked by someone with whom I was in a one-on-one conversation if it would be ok for them to talk with another person instead, because a certain need had come up. So, essentially, this person was asking if she could ditch her conversation with me for another more-urgent conversation. This person (who knows me well) half-jokingly added, "You won't feel rejected or anything, will you?" My response was "Of course not, I'm numb to the world." She laughed because it caught her by surprise, but she probably wants to talk seriously with me about that sometime. Who knows. I think it's funny.

I find myself using this phrase a lot in situations similar to this one. This phrase has been known to generate responses such as "Oh, do you need to talk?" or "That's sad" or else they just think in their head that I'm suicidal or somethin. But yeah, I could care less, cause I'm numb to the world. Many times when I use this phrase, I'm actually totally serious, but no one would ever know cause it actually sounds really funny in most conversations. And I'm fine with that, cause...I'm numb to the world. So ok...seriously, the fact is that this world is filled with too much disappointment to expect perfection. People will let you down, so it's important not to expect to receive too much from others. So let me go into some more detail about this phrase that everybody should start using.

One way in which I use the phrase "numb to the world" is to describe a security in one's worldview such that the frequent irresponsibility of others does not produce feelings of anxiety, discontentment, or bitterness in one's mind. The fact is this: No matter how much this world strives to uphold justice, injustice will be remain strong. No matter how much people dream up solutions leading toward an ideal world, this world will continue to be real. What I mean is this: I believe that as long as we live in a "fallen world," people will continue to be selfish and irresponsible no matter what kind of steps humankind takes to solve it. And I think this selfishness and irresponsibility is what defines a fallen world. So it's one big ugly cycle. Selfishness leads to selfishness, irresponsibility leads to irresponsibility.

Note: I'm obviously using the words "people" and "world" as super-generalized terms to convey the overall direction of the majority. Kind of like statistics, ya know?

So, that's pretty cool. Now what? How does one go about living in this world of reality filled with strife, discontentment, and carelessness? The reason I can't use the word "people" to describe the world in its entirety is because I know many people who have decided to go against the grain. People who have truly taken the bold steps of abandoning the instinctual selfish desires and have decided to love others selflessly--no matter what the cost.

I see the world's version of "love" every day, but real love is rare. It's not hard to be polite to someone as long as they are polite in return. It's not hard to be kind to someone as long as they are kind in return. It's not hard to spill your deepest longings and struggles to a person as long as they listen in return. It's not hard to give to someone as long as you are recognized in return. But scratch the "in return"'s and what do ya got? To love wholeheartedly without even being given a passing glance in return? What could be worse? Name something that could be more unjust! How is this possible when every bone in our body cries out at the injustice shown to our own well-being? How is this abandonment achieved? And from what mystical internal source does this love flow? And what is the desired end?

So check this thought out: I don't know if love can truly be called love if it doesn't have a source. Can love arise merely from goodwill? I think a human's two deepest longings are 1) To be loved and 2) To love. And I believe they are achieved in this order. If one doesn't know what it is to be loved with real love, it subverts his/her ability to be a source of real love.

So..."numb to the world"...

Being numb to the world takes into account the reality that this world is lacking real love. A person could complain all flippin day about the injustices showed to him/her and be completely right, but the only thing that would be achieved from that is fewer friends for that person. Everyone in the world, I'm sure, could make a truly valid case for themselves in regard to the injustices that have been shown to them. But who wants to hear it? A far more important question would be this: Now what? So, your life is horrible, and everybody hates you...what are you gonna do? Currently, it almost seems that the most popular conclusion is "to become a source of injustice for someone else." Brilliant.

So, this "numb to the world" thing is all about fulfilling one's own responsibility in the midst of a battlefield of injustice, pain, and hate. If, during the hideous battle, one is pierced with bullets of scorn or stabbed with a dagger of betrayal, then it is to carry on with a will to love, regardless. One could argue that selfless love is not a responsibility. Maybe that's right...maybe it's not. It all depends on whether or not there exists a source of real love flowing into one's own life to heal what has been broken. If not, I don't see how there is a responsibility to love. If there is, however, a deep Source of true eternal life-giving love active in one's life, there is a responsibility. There is a responsibility to make this Love known, not for the sake of self...it's so much bigger than that...but for the sake of Love. Because this Love has all the scars from the battlefield. And not even once did this Love falter during the battle.

You can read about that in Isaiah 53, though.

The Thought of Love

2005-10-29T04:32:00.000-04:00

What is life? What is purpose? And what does it mean to be driven?

Here are some thoughts that keep me living:

The thought that there is a person who has never known that love is more than a kiss.

The thought that there is a person who has never envisioned self through the eyes of a lover.

The thought that there is a person who has never been the object of a friend's sorrowful tears of love when in great need.

The thought that there is a person who has never known the feeling of such sickness and exhaustion from laughter that the very inkling of it beckons only a delightful dread.

The thought that there is a person who has never shared delight in accomplishment with a caring father.

The thought that there is a person who has never been the object of pure affection from a gentle mother.

The thought that there is a person who has never known fulfillment through abandonment, joy through pain, peace through darkness, life through death.

The thought that there is a person who has never experienced the contentment of brokenness.

The thought that there is a person who has never known the substance of satisfaction.

The thought that there is a person who has never experienced the beautiful agony of tears for a friend.

Candy

2005-10-28T01:57:00.000-04:00

I usually eat a lot of candy right before I go to bed, and then I can't get to sleep because there's a lot of sugar in my body.

Yeah, I hate it.

More Fighting

2005-10-26T02:15:00.000-04:00

News from the Weekend:

2005-10-25T23:10:00.000-04:00

Hanging Out at Perkins

Mark and I got into a fight again. I always win.

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Night Hiking with Asians

The Crew

Jake teaching the children

Chillin like ninjyas

Peter Pan

2005-10-25T03:21:00.000-04:00

I never wanna grow up. I have only disdain for the world of professionalism. I can't imagine anything worse than my whole life becoming engineering (or some other similar occupation). Not that I find engineering boring. I find engineers boring. I find a life submerged in an engineering occupation an extremely dull way to live. My plan has always been to use engineering only as a means to establish my location in the world and help people. I hope it doesn't take over my life. Most of these thoughts stem from my comparison of my current life and the life of the professional world. It's a world that teaches its followers that life is a competition of formality. Whoever dresses the nicest is the most "professional" and wins. It is acceptable for honesty to be set aside so that impression can take main stage. Ugh...the thought is sickening.

Yeah, so obviously I'm not catching the whole picture. But it's a real side of the professional world and I hate it. So I think this is why I love Peter Pan so much. He's free from the learned formality that nobody likes anyway. People are just too scared of being different, and would rather be uncomfortable and nervous in a formal setting than to destroy their image by appearing to be, in some way, "unprofessional." God forbid.

Another reason I like Peter Pan is cause he can fly.

So, what if tuxes are actually NOT "dressy"? WHAT IF??? That would rock some people's world. I don't think they're dressy. "Dressy" is an opinion, and it's too bad that the majority has the learned opinion that tuxes are dressy.

Beautiful Agony

2005-10-25T02:55:00.000-04:00

This is another song that I wrote. It's influenced a lot by the first part of Ezekiel 16 and random people who have come and gone in my life.
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In my distress, naked, drowing in my blood, I cried
When I should have been pitied
When I should have been scorned
You covered my shame, you gave me Your robe
You made me beautiful, I'm so beautiful
Why am I so beautiful (with these scars on my face and my heart)?
Why am I so beautiful (though I've fallen over and over again)?
So beautiful
Why are these riches mine?
What happened to justice?
Where has the death gone
For which I labored so hard?

She's broken, longing to be cherished
Dying to be embraced in real love
All she's known has betrayed her
Who will love her?
Is there anyone to embrace her?
Is there any love left to spend?

He hides behind his mask
Clever, cool, preoccupied
Would he really know if he died?
Will someone tell him to live?
Will anyone care enough to cry for him?

On my knees before You
Break my heart over and over again
Please let me cry
If I am denied this
Please let me die

On my knees before You
Break my heart over and over again
What else should I live for?
In this pain I have found life

I love you (my friend)
It kills me (my friend)
You've given me such a beautiful agony
Beautiful agony
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Heaven and Drugs

2005-10-20T05:06:00.000-04:00

I wish I was black. Ok, anyways...I was writing a comment on Jake's blog site and I accidently wrote a blog.
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"The Jake that is in Heaven, ex-many years from now, is not only the same me from earth, but a more fully expressed me." - Jake

Yeah, dude...like...truth will be exalted. Nothing fake. Truth about who we were meant to be as individuals made in the image of God. Personality is a crazy and awesome invention.

My friend once said: "I just wish we weren't so afraid of exposure, of letting ourselves, these identities we put so much stock in, be open to public mockery."

I'd just like to add to his comment by saying "Me, too."

Here is another quote by him (it's Jake, by the way): "You wouldn't care about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they actually do."

This is one of the reasons I don't get drunk. In my opinion, most people use drunkenness as a means to be who they truly want to be: a person exposed, yet free from nagging worries of thoughts that others may have of them. They are free to be dumb.

I have discovered that drunkenness is not necessary for an individual to be in this state of "worry-free dumbness." I live in a world where I am "naturally drunk" and I would definitely recommend it. I've been asked numerous times the question "Are you drunk?" and my response every time is "Always."

The first thought that comes to people's minds when they first see my friend Mark is usually "Is he high?" Mainly becuase he looks high (always) and because he acts high (almost always). He's been questioned by police and once he got kicked out of a volleyball tournament because he looked like a dealer. And he was jumping off the walls. But Mark's never done drugs.

So, why are abnormal behaviors such as dropkicking, jumping off walls, falling off chairs, running on tables, spaz dancing, etc. associated with mind-altering substances? I think it's because people have been taught that they can't get a job in the real world unless they cut their hair and dress nice. Maybe that's true...but...yeah, it's probably true. Hmm...

DUDE, I'm so tired. I'm going to bed. Why didn't I go to bed two hours ago? Why are my pants on fire?

Movie-ing

2005-10-17T02:00:00.000-04:00

So anyways...

I got a great idea for a movie. There would be a guy named Taik, and he would be a really deep sleeper. And in his sleep he would kill people and throw them in a river. So he would wake up and not be able to find his family or friends because he killed them and threw them in a river in his sleep, so he would go searching for them. But every night he would kill more people in his sleep and not know it. So this would keep happening until he killed everybody in the whole world, and then he would wake up and say "Huh? Where is everybody?"

Yeah, I'd watch it.

Backflips

2005-10-12T03:25:00.000-04:00

I'd have to say that my biggest accomplishment in life, thus far, has been learning how to do backflips off of trees and walls.

It hasn't been an easy road, however...

One time I broke my ankle doing a backflip off of a wall.

Here's how it went down:

I was at freshman orientation at Montana State University in Bozeman during the summer of 2003. I was chillin with a few guys who I didn't really know, and we decided to check out the dance for a bit. So...the dance was incredibly boring, of course. So, I was like "We should do something cool, like...backflips off walls." And the guys were like "Dude, can you do that?" And I was like, "Of course, I'm pretty awesome." Uhm...ok, so I don't remember what I said, but I had done backflips off walls before--but never on a hard tile floor. So I ventured outside to practice on the grass just to make sure I was warmed up. I was feeling good, so off I went back into the ballroom to pull off this crazy feat.

I begin doing some backflips in the corner, still feeling pretty good. Every time I would do one, it seems as though another person would notice and come tell me "Do that again, that was awesome!" So, one thing that is important to understand about doing backflips off walls: If you do them continuously, they make you tired. So I started getting tired. I was pretty much ready to quit after only a few backflips, but people were enjoying it, so I figured I might as well let them enjoy something at the dance since everything else about the dance was about as fun as staring at...a dead horse. Or somethin.

So, guess what happened next?

Yep, suddenly I find myself in the middle of a rotation off the wall, thinking to myslef, "Hmm...that's not where the ground is supposed to be." I land. I'm sitting down. I look at my feet. Whadda ya know? My right foot was at a 90° angle with my leg (see picture). I have to admit, it was pretty awesome. It was pretty sick, too, and I didn't want to freak anybody out. So, I decided to make it look normal again. The first whack didn't budge it. But the second whack at least made the bone parallel to my leg again. Yeah, and besides, there's no way I would've rode all the way to the hospital having to look at my foot sticking out to the side like that.

Note: This picture is only a reenactment of an actual event and not the actual event itself.

So, ambulance came, blah blah blah, spent a couple nights in the hospital, blah blah blah, surgery, blah blah blah. Yeah, looking back on it, I can say that I'm glad it happened. Why?

Because it's a good conversation starter.

Oh, by the way, the not-so-cool part to all of this is that I was planning to go to Great Britain the next week to play basketball. But I gotta go the following summer, so it's all good.

The One That Nobody Reads Cause It's Too Long

2005-10-12T02:43:00.000-04:00

During the summers in high school, my friends and I were counselors at a kid's Bible camp called Camp Bentley. Those times are some of the coolest memories I have. This camp wasn't one of those rich church camps where only good kids went to have fun for the summer. There were quite a few kids who were raised in the church that came every year, but the main way we invited kids was by going to all the low-income housing in the surrounding cities and telling the kids' parents that they only had to pay 5 bucks for their kids to come to a week of camp. The rest of the money was paid for by random people and churches.

Most of these kids did not come from the best homes. It wasn't uncommon for some of these kids to have never experienced real love from adults or, especially, from teenagers. Many of these kids fell in love with the environment immediately. People actually noticed them here! It was such a new and exciting experience for so many of them.

I think back to a dream my friend Mark shared with me last summer when we were at this camp. I'm just gonna use his words cause he describes it best:

"I was at Camp Bentley and all the kids were standing around in different places... some happy some sad, just like real life...and I was overjoyed and overflowing with God's love... and I was carrying a ... blanket... but it wasn't a blanket at all. And as I approached a kid, his face lit up and joy flowed from me to him, and his excitement was all because he saw Jesus Christ's love and felt it. and as I got close to him, I took the sheet, blanket, whatever it was and wrapped it around the kid, the kid also becamse absolutely radiant with peace and tranquillity! I went to the next kid... and did the same with that girl, and then others.

I prayed hard about what it meant, and I asked God to tell me what the blanket thing meant, and when I said "amen." a verse from Song of Solomon came into my head.. "His banner over me is love." That is what was to change those kids at camp.... when people actually experience that joy and victory of God's love that He has for them, how can anyone resist? The only response that makes any sense is to instantly leave your former ways and walk in His love!"

It's amazing to sit back and watch the transforming force of love at work in the kids' lives. I've watched many of these kids grow up. Some have followed the path of love that was set before them (a lot of these kids are actually my good friends now and have become the new generation of counselors at this camp), and others have completely forgotten that they were ever loved, leading to a continued life of hopelessness and destruction.

So often my thoughts are only full of the impossibility of it all. Can one week out of the whole year accomplish anything worthwhile in a kid's life? A kid who will live the rest of those 52 weeks at a home full of strife, anger, jealousy, selfishness? But...why was the one week different? Was it because I was there? Was it because Mark was there? Or was it because God was there? It brings me back to the reality that I can't change people. I can love people. I can't change people. God is the Author to which the able arm belongs--the arm to reach down into the every day happenin's and touch a life.

Still, I'm left with so many questions when I observe the lives that these kids call "normal." Why does life have to be cruel? Why does innocence have to be destroyed? Why does love have to be hidden?

I put a lot of these thoughts into a song that I wrote a few years ago. It's called Camp Bentley.
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I remember all the good times we had
I remember the laughs, the tears, the goodbyes
I miss you so much but you've forgotten who I am
I cried for you
I long for you to understand

Although it hurts
I don't care
If you forget
That I ever cared about you
But I pray
No matter what
That you won't forget
The love that God has for you

It kills me to know
That you may slip away
It'd hurt me so much to see
You crumble and fall
And never know

Think back, remember
Please don't run from your only pleasant memories

I pray for you
I plead to God for your soul
Although it seems so hopeless
I know you're in his hands

Dear God above,
What are the chances
That they'll turn to you
And give you their lives?
But I believe in your perfect plan
And I believe that you can do the impossible
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The Death of the Magnetron

2005-10-11T21:24:00.000-04:00

I often find myself alone, sitting quietly, swept away in thoughts from deep within. Thoughts of dreams dared to be dreamt, goals yet to be achieved, hopes yet to be satisfied. Will I ever become that person that I see? Will I ever catch those elusive dreams? Will I ever achieve what others see as impossible?

I will. I shall. I dare.

This is a little poem I wrote about one of my deepest dreams:

They say "You're not."
I say "I am."
They say "You can't."
I say "I can."
They say "You won't."
I say "I shall."
If only they knew
What lies within.
If only they saw
What I can see.
When I dare
I become.
When I dream
I chew gum.
After a season
they will know
That I was destined to be
a Mighty Sumo.

This is one of my heroes. I call him "Big K."

Ashes To Beauty

2005-10-11T01:00:00.000-04:00

Say goodbye to wit, farewell to charm
So long to those fortresses which I once lived on
Uncovered, I stand with blood on my hands
This greed, this lust, this is who I am
Lost in desire, when will it end?
Will bondage be my master?
Will darkness be my life?
How long will I labor for the death which I hate?

I'm just a man, I can be nothing more
In desperate need, I call to You, my Love
I lay my incomplete all at Your feet
Let the fire burn, let the rain fall
Until, at last, love consumes my soul
I long to be driven, driven by longing
Driven by tears, compelled by a passion so pure

I still stand uncovered, but with You at my side
No longer will my face be known, rather
Visions of You will come to mind
I will fall so that You can stand, beautiful
Through the dust, through the haze

What is my life, but merely a death that gives breath.

At the Feet of Jesus

2005-10-11T00:18:00.000-04:00

Here is something that my friend Jake "the Snake" wrote. It's pretty flippin awesome.
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One evening during worship service, some particular lyrics struck me forcibly. They spoke of laying everything at the feet of Jesus. A scenario penetrated my thoughts in which I saw myself approaching my Heavenly Father. He appeared before me as a man with great authority in his face, revealed through the time worn wrinkles about his eyes; eyes that I met with both fear and exaltation. Making my way before Him was both arduous and humiliating, as I was carrying with me all the weight of my iniquities. However, I gained comfort in the warm grin that spread across His face, not unlike that of a parent watching his or her child struggle to walk for the very first time.

Now, I was not merely approaching the Almighty out of a sense of curiosity; I was a man on a mission. You see, these weights I carried were making life very difficult for me. I had been trying to break free of them for a long time, each time with a different tool. No matter how hard I tried, the weights went unaffected. Worst of all, in all my efforts at hammering (an exercise in vanity as well as futility) I had become distracted to the point of being unable to hear the Lord calling my name and offering a simple solution.

But, alas, here I stood, looking over what I had brought with me, scanning for which object to give him first. With a sense of resolve, I picked up one of the weights on which was written "Jealousy". He took it into His hands and with a simple breath it was blown into dust. Astonished, I went for the next one, an even bigger one entitled "Idolatry." God wrapped his powerful hands around it and reduced it into rubble. All the more impressed, I felt like I was, dare I say, challenging God. I could almost hear myself saying, "But what about this –– this I gotta see!" One by one, he broke apart the things that kept me from Him, characteristics I’d always referred to as being "ceaselessly human".

Finally, I came upon my greatest obstacle –– a towering stone block entitled "Pride." This time, however, God ushered me to the stone and handed me the chisel. Sensing my confusion, He explained that I had shown humility when I decided to come before him and that only I could make that decision. God is, as they say, a gentleman. Now He was allowing me to help Him in the destruction of this most awful weight. Feeling privileged, I began chiseling away at the stone block. As time wore on, I struck a core that I was unable to penetrate. I continued chiseling around the core until it revealed an image of myself, only one that was horribly disfigured and mutilated. Unable to look upon it, let alone continue in my efforts, God once again took it
and broke it into nothing.

Once pride was demolished, I was able to offer up some stone tablets which represented passions in my life that took precedence over Him. This is where I grew a bit reluctant, after all - immersing myself in my art and music were sources of great comfort. God looked them over for a bit, as if deciding what to do with them. Then he smiled wryly, took out a pen, and wrote his name on each tablet, and handed them back to me. After all that had been done, I looked around for something I could offer God in return. Then I felt an object in my back pocket. Curious as to what it could be, I withdrew a small stone on which was written, "My desire; to do God’s will and follow the path He had chosen for me." My face grew red with embarrassment. This was all? Just this little pebble that I had hardly ever noticed? Sheepishly, I handed it to Him. He cupped it in his hands with care, as if he were holding something very fragile and precious. Then He un-cupped His hands and it became a beautiful crown, which he placed upon my head. With that he turned me around and sent me on my way. But before I could leave I turned, ran back and embraced my heavenly Father, the author of my soul.

(http://jacobfranklinbruner.blogspot.com/)