tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83598463279443130512024-02-06T22:05:21.076-08:00More Adventurous(All has become different while all remains the same...)m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.comBlogger129125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-39311379722318238542011-02-27T21:48:00.000-08:002011-02-27T22:02:01.158-08:00#11 TAKE PICTURES!!Which I can, because I found my long lost camera! After 8 months of being in hiding, she has returned to me. And what better first subject while back in action than the beautiful carrots the emerged from the earth this afternoon...<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV1bE6ok8PMjQJVNWbh6_J83NIpti5CVofbB5fAwtg91tecs8i-1qOtoi3bJ20CcDQ4noMsSWpsUvV67MUUO-BqGWjQ89-H8oJQKQyx_RkaHOTHqcfapYvbGYS_R-0aIidOnBbQsbX5s/s1600/IMG_2359.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV1bE6ok8PMjQJVNWbh6_J83NIpti5CVofbB5fAwtg91tecs8i-1qOtoi3bJ20CcDQ4noMsSWpsUvV67MUUO-BqGWjQ89-H8oJQKQyx_RkaHOTHqcfapYvbGYS_R-0aIidOnBbQsbX5s/s400/IMG_2359.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578616292302463858" /></a><br /><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">Well done, all. Well done. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-2387292830111341492011-02-23T15:02:00.000-08:002011-02-23T15:05:59.408-08:00I still like this one(I'm sure it's terribly tacky to post the same poem on your blog more than once, but it has a different structure, which makes it ok)<br /><br />With windows down,<br />I stick my face outside<br />to be caressed by the wind.<br />My hair trails behind me,<br />and I let one<br />or two<br />strands be stolen<br />so that a piece of me will fly away<br />to places I've never dreamed of,<br />and there I will be where I cannot.m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-5945057682200656612011-02-15T15:17:00.000-08:002011-02-15T15:19:27.853-08:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family:Arial, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">I saw this posted on Facebook today, and thought it was really lovely. Please enjoy!</span></span></span></p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:medium;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">After a While</span></b></span></p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">by Veronica A. Shoffstall</span></span></span></p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">After a while you learn<br />The subtle difference between<br />Holding a hand and chaining a soul<br />And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning<br />And company doesn’t always mean security.</span></span></span></p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">And you begin to learn<br />That kisses aren’t contracts<br />And presents aren’t promises<br />And you begin to accept your defeats<br />With your head up and your eyes ahead<br />With the grace of a woman<br />Not the grief of a child</span></span></span></p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">And you learn<br />To build all your roads on today<br />Because tomorrow’s ground is<br />Too uncertain for plans<br />And futures have a way<br />Of falling down in mid flight</span></span></span></p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">After a while you learn<br />That even sunshine burns if you get too much<br />So you plant your own garden<br />And decorate your own soul<br />Instead of waiting<br />For someone to bring you flowers</span></span></span></p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCCC;">And you learn<br />That you really can endure<br />That you are really strong<br />And you really do have worth<br />And you learn and you learn<br />With every good bye you learn.</span></span></span></p></span>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-84547015870471829482011-02-05T18:38:00.000-08:002011-02-05T21:15:12.150-08:00#10 Post more recipes; and Produce in the Park!<div>For the past year and a half, my friend Heather and I (along with many others) have been putting on this event called The Produce Exchange (now known as Produce in the Park). It is a free community event where neighbors come to give some of their excessive fruit or veggies growing on their property in exchange for someone else's fresh gardened goodies. It was founded by Heather based on the philosophy that a.) so much good produce often goes to waste due to the fact that a family of four cannot eat a tree's worth of grapefruit, and b.) our interactions with our neighbors tend to be too disconnected and sporadic to have the type of relationship where we might freely share such bounties. Thus, the Produce Exchange was born!</div><div><br /></div><div>These events have been a blessing to me over the past year and a half, as I get to see relationships develop between neighbors, get to establish some relationships of my own, learn about new recipes and gardening tricks, watch the children and dogs play with each other, and simply share in the enthusiasm surrounding this idea of sharing what the ground gives us. Today was the first one that was held in the park, which brought more neighbors and passer-byers, and, subsequently, more citrus than anyone could ask for. I made a delicious Lavender Lemonade with about three dozen lemons this afternoon! This was also the first Produce in the Park where I was able to showcase some of my growin's, which was about a pound of fresh arugula from my first lil' garden. It went fast. I was proud. </div><div><br /></div><div> If you are in the Monrovia/Pasadena area, please come to Produce in the Park! We now meet every first Saturday in Library Park on Myrtle in Monrovia. Check out our new website: <a href="http://produceinthepark.com/">produceinthepark.com</a> ! If you aren't from around these parts and this sounds like a cool idea, then, well START ONE! It's beyond easy to do, trust me. :)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and if you are interested, here is the Lavender Lemonade recipe. It's super, super easy, and will turn anyone on to craving lavender like chocolate like I do. </div><div><br /></div><div><i><b>#10--Post more recipes: Lavender Lemonade</b></i></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b>For Lemonade: </b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*Note: These measurements are all estimates, of course--the beauty of lemonade is its totally to taste! I prefer more of a sour-inducing ratio of water: lemon: sugar (3:2:1), but some people prefer it more sweet. </span></i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i>At least 16-18 oz of fresh squeezed lemon juice <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">(</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">preferably from your own or a neighbor's tree!)</span></i></b></div><div><i><b>30</b><b>-32 oz water</b></i></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b>For Lavender simple syrup:</b></div><div><b><i>1 cup water (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">best if filtered, if possible</span>)</i></b></div><div><b><i>1 cup sugar (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">organic, raw sugar is the best!</span>)</i></b></div><div><b><i>1 teaspoon-1 tablespoon of dried lavender buds, to taste <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">(</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I buy my buds at Cost Plus World Market for $0.99 cents for a 2 oz. bag, which will last you quite a long time) </span></i></b></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><b>Directions:</b></div><div><i><b>In a medium saucepan, heat water and sugar over medium heat until boiling and sugar is completely dissolved. Remove from heat, and steep lavender buds in tea ball in sugar water until it cools, about 20-30 minutes. </b></i></div><div><b><i>Combine lemon juice, water, and syrup to taste! If too sour, dissolve more sugar in water before adding to mixture to ensure that it is completely mixed in. </i></b></div><div><b><i>Refrigerate, pour, and enjoy!! (You might want to start a support group for your new addiction.)</i></b></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-17208796636202459752011-01-27T14:24:00.000-08:002011-01-27T14:49:52.066-08:00Ode to napkins<div><br /></div><div>Napkins can be anything: paper, cloth, recycled brown, printed party, big, small, tiny, thin. They can be made of denim jeans or the seat of your car or your own skin when your hands need assistance. Napkins can be made of water in your shower when you are wiping the sweat of a workout or a long day off of your skin. Napkins accept substitutes: tissues and paper towels and toilet paper and decorative guest bathroom towels can do their job just as well--and sometimes better, if you find your mess to be especially delicate or maybe very stubborn, and require a special attribute and talent offered by each stand-in. A piece of clothing draped across the shoulder or chest of a mother, lover, or good friend can be a great napkin, especially when your mess is very heavy and tender. Sometimes napkins are kind words that fall to kitchen floor on top of your mess, their graceful descent to the ground hesitant yet committed. Sometimes those words cover the mess and soak it right up into their fibers, its absorbency complete like juice on paper, the result a strange thing of beauty. Sometimes the mess is so big and dense that the napkins can't quite clean it up; instead, they even disintegrate into the mess, hardly distinguishable from it, and you can't tell if they were an initiation of or a response to anymore. But, hey, at least they tried. Napkins really try to do their best, you know. </div><div><br /></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-68171326345165462362011-01-26T22:53:00.000-08:002011-01-26T23:15:21.499-08:00#9 -Listen to Sonia!So, my friend and new mentor Sonia has a better idea for me for 2011: daily writing prompts. We've talked together about how I do like to write but frequently fail at actually doing it(much like how I like to run, hike, row, eat healthy, floss...), so her suggestion was to provide for me daily prompts, word associations, assignments, etc., for me. I will devote 10 minutes to each prompt and just write and see what comes out. I might even write down some of the ones I kinda like a little bit on here. I may even edit them beforehand, but no promises. See, MUCH better idea! <div><br /></div><div>So, as a kick-off, here is today's prompt <i>un-edited</i>, so please enjoy with merciful eyes:</div><div><br /></div><div><b>"...brings me gladness."</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>*The way a candle's flame can dance so effortlessly in an absent wind--fully knowing it's vulnerable and fragile existence, boldly moving and beckoning, nonetheless.</div><div>*The audacity of most of nature to do the same.</div><div>*The way a poem put to song can move my soul to tears and uplift my eyes.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am often in a place of gladness when I don't quite know I'm there--in those times when I am lost in the marvelous wonder of the naturally mundane. Or maybe when I marvel in reflection of the wondrous mundane moments in which I am swept gently and fail to see as they occur. Perhaps when I am immersed in the most painful nostalgia of these moments that I am actually most whole, for the gaps and spaces carved out by missing and memory are filled with fountaining gladness for them. It is truly a bodily place to which I am brought, never beckoned, because if I was called towards a place of gladness, I would never come. I would approach it with trembling hands and an unsteady resolve, doubting that this is the right place--a place so wonderful and mundane and simple. Oh, so simple. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-57141452143856719532011-01-22T19:16:00.000-08:002011-01-22T19:36:00.983-08:00EnneagramI couldn't find a way to make this a 2011 goal, unless it was something like "be ok with your ennegram personality description", so I'm just going to do a post about it anyway. This is the most accurate "personality" test I've ever seen--it describes me nearly perfectly, and I've been able to pin-point most of my friends' types fairly easily and with skilled precision. You should take the test here: <a href="http://www.9types.com/">http://www.9types.com/</a> !<div><br /></div><div>I've also seen a version that describes one's personality type by what they need. For example, I am Type 4, which is "<a href="http://www.9types.com/descr/4/">The Need to Be Special</a>". (It's a lot less narcissistic than it sounds, but only a little bit.) I like this rhetoric better, because, to me, it seems that a communication tool that centers on the understanding one's own needs and, in turn, enables one to understand the needs of others would foster a relational environment of self-acceptance, honest discourse, increased patience, and non-contingent love and affection. Which, hey, who doesn't want that? (I realized that the preceding paragraph dangerously treads near the parameters of the "children, clouds, and puppies" clause, but I am a Type 4, and that's just how we roll sometimes.) </div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-29253794555807749702011-01-19T22:47:00.001-08:002011-01-19T23:00:11.564-08:00#8 Learn that life goes on<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>...without you.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Believe that people, agencies, communities, and entire nation-states live, nay!, even thrive without you there.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's why it's a-ok to take a sick day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZujCaQSJCKIURHWRP4Y0t1ezsTHe2Yo98-zNu74yEN1DQlGcBvibeau8disHQ1dZA1aFJgajK9WflIeMPFhWCTQwkjtJgt0u6f-pzfPxfl_JeJ-1-RugM-ZUERqk66IOtVpgtnboWUk/s200/MyPicture-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564158993504971442" /></div><div>Happy Paid Time Off. </div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-53264223173391905322011-01-13T22:32:00.000-08:002011-01-18T00:10:25.936-08:00#7-Fight Aging<div>Tonight I was washing the dishes that had piled up in our dishwasher-challenged kitchen, and, without thinking, I placed a fragile ceramic bowl on a top of a pile of equally fragile drinking glasses in the sink. The result was a noisy avalanche of breakable dish-ware collapsing in on each other, followed by an outburst of expletives from my mouth. Our victim, a single water glass, was crushed into pieces--just like it's brother from last night. That's right: I broke two glasses in two days while washing dishes, a fact that wouldn't be so frustrating if my casualty rate was not so high. Over the past six months of living in this house and owning this glass set, I've managed to break 2/3 of the contents, usually while washing dishes with extremely soapy hands or from unintentionally crushing them under other dishes.</div><div><br /></div><div>The reason I'm even dwelling on this small event is, for one, I'm going to have to buy a new dish set soon; but also because it illustrates my constant frustration with myself for getting stuck in certain lifestyle patterns that I find obnoxious, ineffective, or down-right debilitating. For example, I am rather unorganized with my things and my living space is rarely in an orderly state. I am cluttery and procrastinate on cleaning up (Confession: I haven't washed the outside of my car since I've bought it in August). I don't floss. The list of parts of my lifestyle that I am frustrated with yet never seem to change can go on and on, but the point is that I can't seem to break the habits. I either will attempt for a few days and get overwhelmed, or consider the odds of success that are stacked against me and quit with a little dignity intact. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've heard from some personal and <a href="http://www.brainhealthhacks.com/2011/01/05/how-much-of-your-brain-mass-do-you-lose-each-year/">quickly-internet-researched</a>* sources that my instinct to retreat from any attempts of changing my habits might be a little biological: it seems that at age 25, the human brain reaches it's peak weight at 1450g, and then slowly starts shrinking. After that, it starts to loose an average of 2g per year, and increases even more when an individual reaches their 80s. The reason I even did a half-ass attempted at googling this information is that <a href="http://abeautifulmess.org/">my friend</a> had mentioned to me one time that when adults hit 25, it becomes increasingly difficult for them to establish and integrate new habits into their lifestyles, due to the aforementioned brain shrinkage. </div><div><br /></div><div>August 14, 2010 marked the 25th anniversary of birth, and apparently the dawn of a new era of ceasing brain development. I'm not sure if this shrinkage perspective is helpful for me to deter from being self-deprecating over my frustrating and annoying habits, or strikes in me a sense of impending doom over my apparent inability to change. In truth, I rest somewhere in the middle, so this year, in order to avoid inevitable death by brain shrinkage, I resolve to..</div><div><br /></div><div><i><b>#7-Fight Aging, one habit (or lack thereof) at a time </b></i> </div><div>Despite any research, I know that I have a healthy brain and am able enact and establish new routines that are enriching and beneficial to my lifestyle. However, the empirical and anecdotal evidence suggests that I will have to do so with a little more work and intention than I was previously able to, back in the "good ol' days" of my teens and early 20s. Of all of the habits that I <i>don't</i> have that I would like to adopt is maintaining a more organized and orderly living space, in order to avoid the onset anxiety that occurs on occasion when I am surrounded by mess. Living inside of a task-oriented, money-making, busy lifestyle leaves little room for integrating any additional habits or rhythms, so it does feel a little daunting to try to meet this goal while still maintaining space and peace. I guess the best way that I can think of to approach this is to adopt a little philosophy that I heard from my yoga instructor called the "one-minute rule" (or something--I may have just made that name up): do it immediately if you can do it in under one minute. Sort of a proactive front-loading approach to a whole lifestyle overhaul. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I like about this idea is that it focuses on the small: if I think about how my entire dresser is extremely unorganized and full of bunched up items of clothing, I feel a little debilitated by the greatness of the task. Thus, the dresser is forced to survive in the constant open-drawer, strewn-clothes way of life that it's been alloted. However, if I take one minute to fold a few shirts in one drawer here and there, then eventually the chaos will subside and the balance of my dresser restored. I won't necessarily get everything organized all at once with this approach, but I will successfully establish a new sustainable habit, even if means I'll be folding those clothes minute by minute well into my 80s. At this point, I'll take anything that promises a little more organization--maybe it will inspire me to finally sort through my moving bins and store them in the garage. I wish I was kidding about that. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*I do not propose that this article holds any scientific nor factual authority in and of itself, but its validity seems reasonable due to the peer-reviewed article that it cites. Also, </span><a href="http://abeautifulmess.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">my friend</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> who told me about this is really smart and knows her stuff, so it must be true. </span></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-49018593389970827812011-01-13T12:18:00.000-08:002011-01-13T23:58:03.855-08:00#6 hair, Feeling health<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><span>Last month, I decided on a whim that I am going to stop washing my hair with shampoo. I first considered it awhile ago, when thinking <span><span>about how unnecessary it is to wash our hair so frequently, and to purch</span></span>ase so much shampoo and conditioner comprised of chemicals, <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=102062969">only because a clever marketing campaign in the 1970's</a> succeeded in integrating the habit into our social psyche. </span></span> And I am a sucker for being stubborn and rebelling against clever marketing campaigns, for better or for worse. I wish my anti-commercialism is what drove me to say "screw the 'poo", but such is not the case: the turning point, I have to admit, was when I broke out in a thorough rash all over my upper body due to an allergic reaction I had to herbal shampoo I was experimenting with. <div><br /></div><div>At the end of the day, it would've been difficult for me to stop using shampoo or alter my grooming ritual, because I really care about what my hair looks like. And, the best thing is, I can make my hair do what I want it to do, when I want it to do it! My very specific, mousey-brown, curly-waveyish, thin hair can change to any color, any length, or any texture in an instance at the whim of my mood at the moment. I have ultimate power to immediately change something about my hair if I don't like it, and that's not a power distributed to many of the other elements that comprise my appearance--or, my life in general. Though it may be a facade, my control over my hair often signifies an ultimate control over everything--that I have it all together. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, why did I relinquish that power to flippant fancies of my hair follicles and scalp pores? Well, I felt like it was worth it: it was worth letting go, experimenting, and letting my hair be what it naturally wants to be. A few friends of mine use baking soda to clean their hair twice a week or so, sometimes with an apple cider vinegar rinse, so I decided to follow suit. And I will never go back, because for the first time since I can remember, I actually like my hair. The curls are more bouncy, the strands are less limp, and the shape looks less like the ears of a Cocker Spaniel. When I got out of the shower today, I pulled my hair back, and thought, "<i>this <b>feels</b> healthy</i>". I don't know if my head exhibits all of the signs of a healthy scalp, but to me, I can feel its health in my hands. I can feel its vibrance and strength. I have given my hair the freedom to do what it wants to do--what it is wired to do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thus, my goal <b><i>#6: Feeling Health</i>, </b>which often derives from just listening to the whispers of your body and allowing it to function as its meant to function. Though images of long, shiny, beautiful hair is advertised right in front of my nose all day, my hair does not like products. All of the expert nutritionists out there can tell me what I should be eating, but only I know what my body wants and needs, and often its not low-fat dairy or processed power bars. And, my body <i>knows</i> that it does not like be run down by a busy day, and will make sure I remember that when it demands more sleep the next morning. I have to learn to not feel guilty about my body, or my hair, not looking like or performing to some standard that I think it is supposed to. Instead, I must listen to my body, and give it what it wants--which turns out to be baking soda washes for the hair, minimal makeup for the face, and lots (and lots) of kale for the digestive system. This year, I will give my body the permission to be healthy in the way that it was created to be (which seems to be retaining curves and rather frizzy hair). Rather than singling out parts of my body to fix and manipulate, I will put down the pieces, step back, and let it do its thing. And when I do that, I am always, always satisfied.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><i>And in case you were trying to imagine what my hair used to look like frequently, here's a nice visualization:</i></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWUbHVWaPD8GiJBridzFsZLdrYyPaq_dzoA-4dE2UV7zv5nh5Jg4uDANZ43Xs128SnjPBZigv6z5mGtctHvpEZkUXACF5pDFQUe3208cUR1UtyBFPS-KbJ2Bi9gc-fjN4myo9F_uB12Y/s200/Cocker-Spaniel-Picture.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561936329420597058" /><i>Note the ears. </i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-11687771770501641972011-01-10T13:12:00.000-08:002011-01-11T10:49:26.331-08:00#5--less, less, less is more<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Hello! I'm not sure if it's terribly clear in my previous posts, but my "goal"/"resolution"/"practice" for this year is to daily reflect on how the rhythm of my life is supporting my ultimate goal for 2011, which is to give myself </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">space</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">peace</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">. Some of these reflections will be concrete things I want to start </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><b><i><div style="display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">doing, or are in the process of habit-forming; some are things that I've learned through observing myself, the rhythm of life, and the lives of others; and some things are hopes for change in how I see my life and the world--perspective-alterations, if you will. I'm blogging these reflections, as </span></div></i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><b><i><div style="display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I would like my friends in the blogosphere to join me in this process so we can learn, discover, and reflect with each other. Sound good?? <i>(I'm also excited to hear what some of you have resolved to do in 2011, and why, so please share!)</i></span></span></div></i></b></span></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">I'm super behind on daily reflections for this year since I decided what I wanted to do on the 10th. However, since I am giving myself space--</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><b><i><div style="display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">which also includes space from unnecessary expectations and guilt for not meeting them--I plan on just adding as many as I want in each post, and trusting that I catch up eventually. And if I don't, oh well. Here's my reflection/goal for today:</span></div></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><b><i>#5 Get rid of stuff, but don't throw it away</i></b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b><i> </i></b></span></span></div></i></b><div>One of the smaller goals I decided that I wanted to try in order to give myself space and peace is to reduce the amount of clutter in my house, car, and work space! I've realized that I don't have a fighting chance of reducing the amount of clutter and noise in my mind if I'm constantly looking at junk and mess piled up around me. So, I've resolved to: 1) Better organize what I do need or want to keep by putting them in aesthetically pleasing storage places (whatever works as an incentive, right?); and 2) Get rid of stuff I don't use!! I'm the epitome of the proverbial pack-rat: I have "craft boxes" piling up in my closet that are just full of paper scraps I've been saving for years on the off-chance that I might want to use them make a beautiful collage some day. I have yet to even be inspired to make a beautiful collage.</div><div>Luckily, a possession purge is quite an achievable task--just set aside a weekend afternoon and scour through the junk with militant persistence, fill up those trash bags, and mission accomplished! The only thing that keeps me from liberating myself from my stuff is this pesky guilty complex I have about creating waste. Part of the reason that I save things is because I convince myself that I will find a crafty and clever use for it someday, and therefore by saving it, I will single-handedly reduce the amount of garbage in the ocean that congregates <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/10/science/10patch.html">here</a>. Obviously (though sometimes not so obviously to me), the accumulation of things does not imply the reduction of waste--in fact, it signifies the exact opposite. So, this year, one by one, I am going to go through all of my boxes and drawers and storage containers and start getting rid of my stuff.</div><div>However, I still have that pesky conviction that throwing stuff away to amass in a landfill is not a just way to treat the earth nor its inhabitants. There are things that need to be thrown away (paper scraps, for example), but what about all of the items that I own that are in perfectly good condition and are just unloved and neglected? I've donated many a thing to thrift stores or friend's garage sales, but for some reason, it still feels like I am throwing things away, just now dumping them on Goodwill or on the lawns of others rather than in a landfill.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 57px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsEr516wSplPAUDm2zPbO6aHYu-SksgmYJ0ZVtkq41e8LdpQyx46S8kySCqIfK2S4YDdUtTygZ67wdpOINJQvpP3_fBH7zA3MOiCxiEeadAUBQkv70SeV-dvS7YP7UpUmeIgrhFoCeec/s200/logo3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560997364008514930" />So, I've resolved to give away as many items as I can on <a href="http://www.freecycle.org/">Freecycle</a>, an on-line network of local individuals who seek or are willing to give away various items, reducing the waste from things thrown away and the waste that is made from the production of new products! What I appreciate about Freecycle is that not only am I able to give away things that I don't need, but I am able to meet other's needs and requests while having a personable interaction with the people with whom I am exchanging goods. I've had the opportunity to help a woman in my area get supplies she needs for a home economics class by giving her old pots I was not using. I've also been able to get rid of an old hat I purchased for $5 at H&M and never wore (because, well, I don't like hats) by giving it to another woman who happened to want one in the very same style. I've e-mailed with these women, spoken on the phone with them, and meet them in person as I handed them these small items. I really appreciate Freecycle for its facilitation of bringing community and goods together in a manner that requires no economic exchange. Rather, it facilitates a different type of economy--one that centers around genuine human connection and community, rather than currency.<div>I would really encourage everyone to find, get rid of, and contribute their goods on their local Freecycle. Our local group operates through a Yahoo group, but it might run differently in your area. For more information, check their website: http://www.freecycle.org/. </div><div><br /></div><div>Happy exchanges! :)</div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-55438031273948260642011-01-09T20:47:00.001-08:002011-01-10T18:29:27.014-08:00#2: Missing; #3 Comfort<div>#2: Learn to feel and accept the distance between myself and my desires, while acknowledging the sorrow and vacancy that fills it.</div><div>Good luck.</div><div><br /></div><div>#3 True comfort cannot come from finding any derived meaning in a situation, nor through determining any intrinsic blame. I'm learning that comfort cannot be forced or found, but simply welcomed when it arrives. Until then, I can just make sure that I keep getting up in the morning and make my coffee and breakfast, knowing that I'll live to see the end of the day--and that it might even end with sharing dinner with a friend. </div><div><br /></div><div>(Also, #4--re-design blog so it looks incredibly awesome--<i>check</i>!)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-84420147325418766632010-12-28T16:07:00.000-08:002011-01-10T18:29:44.619-08:00#1: Rez-oh-lü-shuns: simply living, and the art of not just getting by<div>As the final pages of last year were hovering at a 90 degree angle above the spine of the book in mid-turm, I found myself in constant joyous elation. All of the happenings of each day seemed to be a promise of happiness and newness. Even the timid sun had decided to show its face 'round these parts, almost as if its sole purpose was to warm my face with a shiny forecast of things to come. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a new year is upon us! And my exuberant response is: "About f*@%ing time."</div><div><br /></div><div>Why am I cursing the nondescript entity that simply forces the moon to pull the tides and pushes the sun in its predetermined orbit? That's a good question; because, as tempting as it is, I can't really hold gravity accountable for the several difficult trials that I have had to press through this year. And 2010's been tough one: in the past 12 months, I went through the diagnosis of clinical anxiety and started treatment for it, lived in a tumultuous living situation that ultimately resulted in a change in residence, experienced the tragic death of a family member, and had a sudden start and even more sudden end to a relationship. Of course, there were times of extreme joy when I experienced utter gratitude for my life, the people in it, my lifestyle, and happy changes that were happening; but, admittedly, I neglected to see those times for what they were, because I was still trying to catch my breath from those experiences that knocked everything out of me. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, what's a girl to do? I looked over my last blog post I wrote when being confronted with my cousin's death back in October, and I appreciated my perspective of finding not only joy, but strength in the tiny activities of my day. I don't need to just feel ok, or better: I need to feel like I can do it, with strength and grace of God. Maybe listening to God and leaning on the comfort and strength of the Holy Spirit is to simply live: to get up, eat, work, play, love, smile, pray, kiss, and cry. To celebrate all things, great and very, very small. </div><div><br /></div><div>And that is my new years resolution: simply living in the very, very small day-to-day. Most years I am tempted by grandeur thoughts of accomplishing very, very large things, like starting graduate school or getting out of debt or balancing my checkbook on a daily basis. But this year, I'm going to give myself as much space as possible, and allow as much peace to reign in my life as I can--not with the intent of learning life lessons in the space set aside, but rather just to quiet the noises. I don't want to be absent from those times that are good and bright, only relive them in painful nostalgia; I am going to make sure that I look at and listen to and taste and smell what's going on around me. I am going to simply be here. </div><div><br /></div><div>Any sort of goal requires some pragmatic approach, so one way I am going to work towards the goal of living goal-free is to give myself space to reflect every day: reflect on where I am feeling strained, where I am feeling free, where I am feeling tired, where I am feeling joy. And, naturally, with any sort of reflection, things will be noticed and seen, and the process of learning what God will have us learn will unfold. Therefore, I've also decided that though I am not looking for any grand, sweeping life lesson to be taught in 2011, I want to intentionally look and note what I do find in this space I am giving myself, because, I think I will just be grateful for it. I also want to write and blog more this year, so I am going to kill the proverbial bird with one stone: this year, I will reflect every day through blogging on what I've seen, what I'm learning, and what I want to start doing (call 'em teeny, tiny goals, if you will). Note: I will probably break this resolution to write daily come mid-February, but, hell, you gotta give it a shot. </div><div><br /></div><div>(I <i>promise</i> to everyone that I will try my very hardest to keep my daily reflections from being some myriad of trite and redundant grandiose statements about lessons we can learn about God through clouds and looking at the world through a child's or puppy's eyes. Please, if ever I write something that you feel falls in that category, you hereby have the right to comment that I am guilty of breaking the clouds, children, and puppies clause. Make sure to call it as such: the clouds, children, and puppies clause). </div><div><br /></div><div>So, since I am already 9 days behind, I'm tempted to get to a-reflectin' and make 9 comments. However, after writing this post, I realize that my first goal prevents me from making up for the past week and half, because:</div><div><br /></div><div><i><b>#1 Write shorter posts, because you won't write at all if you don't</b>.</i></div><div>Seriously, I won't. I started writing this post a week ago. Brevity is not my natural-born strength, so I'm going to have to start practicing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Year. </div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-47130201457791569822010-11-09T23:03:00.000-08:002010-11-10T00:51:50.382-08:00Empowerment mealsWhat do you do when life literally becomes unbearable, and it's near impossible to enact your daily routine?<br />What do you do when you mention that the past two days have been great, only because you can't imagine that any alternative course of events leading up to them could be any worse than what you experienced?<br />What do you do to bring life to your aching bones that call out for mercy?<br /><br />Make soup. And bake.<br /><br />Unfortunately, the aforementioned statements were not a use of hyperbolic narrative, though everything in me wishes they were. I am in a proverbial "life has handed me lemons" state of being--though at times it seems like life is scraping at the bottom of the lemon barrel to find all of the putrid and rotting ones to toss on over to me. Redemptive lemonade does not even seem possible, most of the time. I have no control over these things that have been handed to me (trust me: my efforts to seize the reigns have been catastrophic failures); nor does it seems that I really have control over my responses to them on most days. It's been fun to watch that motivational saying fly shamefully out the window.<br /><br />However, what I <span style="font-weight: bold;">do </span>have control over is my fridge. (Sort of--there must be some month-old left-over pasta dish with legs that keeps moving positions on the shelves, because I can never seem to find what makes it smell so rank). I <span style="font-weight: bold;">can</span> control the rice on my pantry shelves, spoons and ladles, my spices collection, and my fresh parsley that needs to get eaten up. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">can</span> control my ability to successfully pair tastes and texture together and create something delicious. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">can </span>control myself from feeling discouraged and scared when I mess up, or if the meal didn't turn out the way I imagined it would. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">can </span>clear my busy weekday schedule to make an improvisational dinner with a dear friend. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">can</span> allow myself to enjoy something that's tastes good, and to give myself credit for creating it. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">can</span> make a mean Kale, Tomato, and Rice Stew on the fly.<br /><br />There is something so cathartic, so healing about taking what you have in front of you and making it work. I think most people thrive on being successful, in some capacity. Or, at least, watching things come to fruition in the way we imagine it by our own hands. So, when the course of events in life are thrown off the axis and we no longer know which way is up, we desperately grope for something to reinstate our center of gravity. (I usually pick smoking. Or chocolate.) When our insides don't know how they are supposed to sit in their own body, and when our bodies forget how to move about in space, how can we possibly feel like we are capable of doing anything worthwhile? Coping mechanisms are simply devises for reaching out, grasping for control, and sticking everything back where we remember them previously being. Usually very ungracefully, as our hands are shaky from shock and our vision blurred by constant tears.<br /><br />When I was plowed over by a semi a week and half ago (figuratively), I had to brainstorm on what to do with myself--what instructions to give my body. I decided to make a pizza with my boyfriend and watch High Fidelity. Tonight, I made soup with a friend and baked banana bread without spending any money. I even have left overs for lunch tomorrow! The past two days have been the first time in awhile when I feel my insides straightening up again, my head clearing, my thoughts more coherent and concise, and my hands feeling empowered to produce once again. I'm recognizing the places in my life--as little or insignificant as they may be--where I still have control. I'm learning to not grope and grasp and cling to it, but gracefully and respectively step in, allowing myself to remember what it feels like to be OK, even if for a moment.<br /><br />The banana bread didn't turn out as sweet as I wanted it too. I add brown sugar and cinnamon on the top, and that didn't do the trick. I'll still sleep peacefully tonight, I think.<br /><br /><br />**And, if you are REALLY interested as using baking a means of empowerment, please check out my dear Danica's <a href="http://danicacomplex.blogspot.com/">blog</a>! Not only does she chronicle the life of a new, super cool and creative mom (that's her) living in Pasadena, but she bakes pies on a regular basis. Further proof that women gain super powers when they have babies, if you ask me.m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-36454194160969883142010-09-01T14:42:00.000-07:002010-09-01T14:48:56.270-07:00Bearing patience...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">To Self: "No no no no, stop it stop it stop it stop it! It can't happen. Not right now."</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Right? You all know the feeling: the constant dichotomy of wants and reality, always fighting against the need to concede. Or, fighting against conceding.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">What does it meant to be OK in the place and space where you are, while yet leaving room to dream? How do we live faithfully in a place where we must wait, though patience is arduous, leaving little left to look and see (really see) what's around you? I have a hard time living beyond my desires that distract me, sometimes. I wonder what it would look like to walk along your side of the street with the greener side in full view, feeling free to smile and even whistle in your current stride...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I wrote this a while back with the memory of England, my once home, weighing heavily on my heart:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">With windows down I stick my face outside to be flitted by the wind.<br />My hair trails behind me, and I let one or two strands be stolen<br />so that a piece of me will fly away to places I've never dreamed of, and there I will be where I cannot.</span></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Faith in the waiting. Lord, teach us your ways...</span></span></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-873126766007110032010-08-16T12:50:00.000-07:002010-08-16T13:22:11.975-07:00Gender and FaithI just had a thought that intrigued me immensely. I have been reflecting quite a bit lately on my journey with God since childhood, and the faith I've found: a faith that liberates me, a faith that restores me, a faith that promises me wholeness, love, and acceptance. However, a few months ago, a fellow woman at my church requested that the female members of our church write out a little vignette on what it has meant to be a woman in our life experience--particularly in the context of our faith. <div><br /></div><div>Now, I also believe that my "womanness" embodied in the gender that God assigned me to plays a central part in my understanding of myself, which includes the faith in which I wish to fully embody me. My journey through understanding how my gender interacts with my life in Christ, mostly with the Church (which historically has not been necessarily very hospitable to women). Until I received the above request from my friend, I haven't been compelled to reflect on what it means for me, as a woman, to believe in God and live out that belief in the ways of Jesus the Christ. Not only as a member of the body of Christ, but simply as a person who has chosen the life of faith. <div><br /></div><div>I understand that there are a vast array of perspectives when it comes to both faith and gender, but I can only operate from my little enclave of experience and therefore bias--which is there are true genders, that are not entirely socially contrived, which affect our experiences in life and our senses of self. Therefore, I really wonder:<b> </b><span style="font-style:italic;"><b>how do our experiences as men, women, and everything in between, affect our perspective of faith in God--or our choice to not believe</b></span>? <div><br /></div><div>I am well aware of the typical gender stereotypes that exist surrounding the interaction of both men and woman in the Church, which I would actually like to circumvent, if possible (though I know it is near to impossible to divorce God and Christ in God from the Church in which He is embodied on earth). Like I said, I am more interested in our experiences as <i>individuals</i> who believe. Individuals who experience those quiet moments when we find ourselves knowing Someone whom we know we are incapable of ever fully knowing--those moments that solidify our reasonings behind the illogical and rather crazy leap into the abyss that we've chosen to make. Those moments when we are know and are known. </div><div><div><br />When we stand before, sit with, lie down next to, run along with, walk towards, play with, delight in, be delighted in, love, or rejoice in God, how do we understand ourselves in the context of being gendered bodies and gendered people? How have our experiences as men, women, and anyone in between, affected our faith in God?<br /></div></div></div></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-11946849498224871852010-08-09T21:31:00.000-07:002010-08-09T22:42:29.569-07:00Glimpes<object width="480" height="270"><param name="movie" value="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/video/x4nilx_87-1-yeasayer-no-need-to-worry-red_music?additionalInfos=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/video/x4nilx_87-1-yeasayer-no-need-to-worry-red_music?additionalInfos=0" width="480" height="270" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always"></embed></object><br /><b><a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4nilx_87-1-yeasayer-no-need-to-worry-red_music">#87.1 - YEASAYER - No need to worry / Redcave</a></b><br /><i>Uploaded by <a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/lablogotheque">lablogotheque</a>. - <a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/us/channel/music">Watch more music videos, in HD!</a></i><br /><br />I will say that this video is one of my favorite things. Not one of my favorite performances, not one of my favorite songs (though those are both true), but one of my favorite nouns in life. It's one of those things that that transcends beyond the typical nature of it's own genre of subjects and topics to become something greater than it's intention. We all have at least one of those things: that poem that struck a chord in you that never really stopped ringing, that novel or essay which instigated a profound paradigm shift, or that speech given by someone you've never met, but who's words have affected you in a way that only those most intimate to you do. I wouldn't say that this recording of Yeasayer--though a favorite, I have to say--literally CHANGED MY LIFE; maybe I could say it helps me out by operating as a little illuminator to the way I see the world. (But <span style="font-style:italic;">Red Cave</span> pretty much does make me tear up almost every time I hear it). <br /><br />I think what is so wonderful about this video is that it records such a beautiful moment that is so precarious and fleeting: the decision of the band to sing that particular song for the video project on the subway, surprising both their fellow passengers and recording crew alike. The clear community of the band operating in perfect harmony becoming integrated into the temporary community gathered on the subway ride. The other passengers--who probably don't know what they are singing, as the video is filmed in Paris--joining along in rhythm and lyrics by quickly acquiring language. Everyone in that moment on that ride experienced something special that can never be recreated, which probably makes it all the more beautiful.<br /><br />I would guess that the real reason I enjoy this video so much is because it reminds me of those moments when you raise your head up, look around, and realizing you are in the middle of something incredible. Call it the Kingdom of God realized on earth, call it the movement of the Spirit, call it simply a thing pointing to something greater than itself. Call it whatever you will, really; the words we use to describe these moments don't really matter, because it's not the words that move us but the vision we see before us of either the potentiality within or the trueness of something beyond. Whatever it is, it's something we look to and look for, and it's absolutely lovely. <br /><br />I'm not sure how Yeasayer or the Take Away Shows crew would feel about this reflection, but I don't really care. All I know is that this simple, unpretentious and unassuming piece of art makes me a little happier to be alive. Or, at least, reminded of how "bless-ed" I am. :) <br /><br />Enjoy enjoy enjoy. :)m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-55003405207794790952010-07-19T20:43:00.000-07:002010-08-02T12:32:11.764-07:00BackyardPeace, stillness, and rest...<br /><br />...is to lay belly-down on the ground and see the world with the blades of grass and their molecules, knowing there is so much more you'll never know<br /><br />...is to let the wind move the swing tied to the tree branch, and watch it sway like a pendulum, marking time at a pace much slower than you're used to<br /><br />...is to allow the grass to make your legs itchy and the breeze your arms cold, welcoming the sign that there is still room for you to change<br /><br />...is to lie on your back and feel very, very small; and then lie on your front and feel very, very large--always feeling the earth holding you the whole time<br /><br />...is to smile at the dirt that covers your house, because it is still so lovable<br /><br /><br /><br />I've moved into a house. And I love it. I'm challenging myself to spend time out of buildings everyday--which seems to be the quickest and most effective mood stabilizer there is. And then there's the beautiful walks in my beautiful neighborhood when I spend a few precious moments with my neighbor doe, who have descended from the mountains to eat the new figs off of tree branches. They make it hard to feel like you could ever be alone. <br /><br />Oh, the blessings in the world around us. May we always find peace and rest and stillness in them.m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-27325496639134062562010-06-23T23:14:00.001-07:002010-08-02T12:33:25.970-07:00Do it!Please enjoy this website algorithmically played by my favorite band, Yeasayer! <div><br /></div><div>http://yeasayer.net/codeorgan/</div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-17902460756740301392010-04-21T14:25:00.000-07:002010-04-26T13:33:00.218-07:00SurveyHello blog subscribers!<div><br /></div><div>It is strange that this is a legitimate cyberspace greeting! I have noted that there has been an (unexpected) influx of readers to this crazy little thing called my blog lately. I have to say, I have really appreciated all of your comments and words of encouragement on some of the things I have written; I am both warmed and challenged by many of the things you say. All in all, I am really appreciative for our internet kinship that has developed. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Since there are people I actually do not know who are actually reading what I write up here, I figured I better tighten up the belt a bit and start being both more reflective and discerning about my posts. I want this to be a relevant blog to others, not just a place for me to vent about my angst about existence or give a comprehensive list of things I do not like to eat paired with Red Wine (the later topic might actually turn out to be more interesting than many other things I've written). </div><div><br /></div><div>This is where your help comes in: if you would be so inclined, I would really appreciate hearing about why you are following my blog, what it is about my blog that you like reading about, what you would like maybe to be discussed in the future, etc. (If you never actually read this blog, and are actually quite confused on how you are subscribed in the first place, that's ok--let me know, and I'll say thank you anyway and give you instructions on how to unsubscribe.) </div><div><br /></div><div>My parting words have nothing to do with this post, but just an out-pouring of my heart. This is an excerpt from one of my favorite books,<i> The Prophet </i>by Kahlil Gibran:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; "><i>When love beckons to you, follow him,<br />Though his ways are hard and steep.<br />And when his wings enfold you yield to him,<br />Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.<br />And when he speaks to you believe in him,<br />Though his voice may shatter your dreams<br />as the north wind lays waste the garden.<br /><br />For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.<br />Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,<br />So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.<br /><br />Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.<br />He threshes you to make you naked.<br />He sifts you to free you from your husks.<br />He grinds you to whiteness.<br />He kneads you until you are pliant;<br />And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.<br /><br />All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart. </i></span></div><div> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><i> </i></span></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-54151723470574614692010-04-19T12:32:00.000-07:002010-04-19T13:04:56.568-07:00Everyone must wonder sometime...September 15, 2009<div><br /></div><div>I wanted to write today, but I feel like I have nothing to say, really. It's funny that it's when you have the energy to express everything that's been weighing on you like a fine-tuned migraine that you don't have anything to say. Those terribly tiring, headache-inducing themes that seemed to have required compositional processing have faded, and have been replaced with whatever noun's meaning is correlated with the sincere answer of "Fine!" when someone asks how you are doing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Only a writer would complain about life feeling positive: it feels more exhausting to think of something to write about than to find a way to properly articulate that which lays so heavy on you. Maybe that's why so many artists seem to sustain self-imposed neuroticism in order to create. Those aren't the smart ones, the truly creative. I'm probably one of those. </div><div><br /></div><div>I guess I find that I discover what is good and what makes sense in those things and people that surround me, and I'm contended in that. The urge to capture and share has subsided. That is the question, really: how does the writer convey the things that compel her to know the world without falling prey to acquisition? Which is ridiculous--how funny that we humans believe that suddenly by imposing language we suddenly can own a thing, an idea, a person? Who among us has ever uttered, "Thus", and then beheld? None. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yet we think that if it is written, it is; a written contract is more trust than a verbal, the marriage license more recognized than the vows exchanged. Yet documents are more vulnerable than those who composed them, or whomever they are about, as they are reduced to ash at the first match strike. And, how much more life is exchanged when language is notably absent!--an embrace between two friends, two partners sighs of love, the wag of a dog's tail at the sight of it's master, the clearing skies right after a storm. I could never capture these moments in words without subjecting them to a severe reduction of meaning, robbing them of what they truly are. All because language wielded requires severe accommodation--most of all from the one who utilizes it as a tool of interpretation. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's all we do, really: interpret. Funneling that which is beyond and beside this structure of sounds, inflections, and implied meaning into something we can name and thus own. How odd is it that we name--how audacious! Perhaps that's the problem: the implied ownership that the act of name implies. Parents conceive, birth, name, and thus own a child, even though they participated in the miraculous emergence of life only through incubation. Yet, for nearly two decades, they can itemize them on their taxes along with their second house in the mountains. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe we are just irresponsible with our language; we categorize things prematurely--and often incorrectly--in order to understand them. Aristotle said the natural world was ordered thusly, and we nodded our heads in comprehension and conceded. "I name, therefore I understand." I wonder if it's the reverse that's true--that true understanding proceeds naming. If so, we would find ourselves in a wordless world, our eyes wide as we gaze at each other. We understand little and comprehend nothing, and so we build four-walled structures around us to shield us from the EXPANSE that surrounds us everywhere we are. I am anxious standing in the expanse, so much empathy is extended to she that fills up the expanse with thousands of four-walled structures and millions of implied-meaning-sounds to everything she sees in order to qualm her anxiety of the vastness of the unknown.</div><div><br /></div><div>If only we could open our anxieties and buildings and words to prayer--that instead of burrowing ourselves away when facing the expanse, we life our hands to God and wonder, "What <i>is</i> it?", with no expectation of an answer! What if a mother's first to response to hearing the cries of the new life that had just emerged from her body was, "Who <i>is</i> this?" before declaring a name to call the child? If we wonder before we we build and name, then perhaps we will remember that it is not we who understand, and therefore cannot own. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-51489205115948834012010-04-10T23:11:00.000-07:002010-04-10T23:52:58.159-07:00Technological invasion, or, "How I learned to stop worrying and love the Telly".Here is a quick story about a self-posed question that I, much to my disturbance, could not find an answer to:<div><br /></div><div>I am currently staying at my parent's house up North this weekend for a small vacation. We actually have been active on this trip that we usually are (it's amazing how many free things you find to do when you are in a personal and global recession!), so I am not complaining. However, inevitably, the T.V. always gets turned on every night, usually in three different rooms by their three typical occupants. This, of course, leaves me, a non-permanent resident of this home with no T.V. of my own, alone to sit at the table and thumb through a Sunset magazine (or go up in my room and write a blog entry). This, as you can imagine, frustrates me for two reasons: 1.) I just traveled 400 miles and spent quite a bit of money to spend time with my family, and 2.) I don't watch T.V. I will watch an occasional show on-line now and then, or watch a season of a T.V. show in succession once in awhile, but rarely ever do I just sit down and watch what's on. Mainly because I am too busy to devote a half hour to doing respectively nothing, and when I do have free time, I'd rather spend it with people. So my initial response to my family's recreational T.V. habits is that we should be doing something else. <i>Anything</i> else, because sitting in a room simultaneously being occupied by the same thing is <i>not </i>spending time together. (Can I get an Amen?)</div><div><br /></div><div>But here's when my scenario takes a what I think is disturbing turn: immediately after haughtily thinking "we should not be watching T.V. right now", my next thought was...nothing . Sheer blankness and absence of thought. I could not conceive an alternative activity, at least one that did not involve media or technology. I was not capable of brainstorming a quiet family activity that did not include being entertained by some external<i> </i>electronic inanimate object. What did people do together before there were 7 T.V.s in one household? Seriously! Embroider? Talk about the farm? I am not being facetious here; I am posing a serious question. How can modern families, with all of the technology available at their fingertips, after spending 8 hours apart from each other all day working in isolated, unrelated jobs, spend time together without tuning out and being held captive by the T.V., or some other technological activity (including computers, an act of which I am entirely guilty as charged)? </div><div><br /></div><div>Suggestions? Ideas? Theoretical Propositions? What do you think? Your ideas may save us all!</div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-57437548645493373442010-04-06T16:21:00.000-07:002010-04-06T18:30:35.775-07:00That audacious, confusing, pesky hope we have...<div><i>*Warning: this is a long one! I guess I am making up for lost time. I wish this thing was wider, then this post wouldn't take up so much room!*</i></div><div><br /></div>Oh, hello again.<div><br /></div><div>I know, I know it's been a long time. This is due to the fact that, of course, I try to fit an infinite amount of activities into a very finite space, such as the mere 24 hours we are allotted every day--16, if you take time to sleep. (Which, trust me, I certainly do). This past weekend, Holy Weekend, I especially felt the finite nature of time; I know that celebrating the Feast, Death, and Resurrection of Christ is a beautiful, communal Church event, but, man, does it make for a busy weekend! But anyway, Easter is one of my favorite religious holidays: I love the time we spend preparing for it through Lent; I love that our whole lives and schedules become wrapped up in each other as we remember together; I love that Spring has usually sprung when it rolls around. I don't really love all the commercial/consumerism that surrounds it (what the hell is an Easter basket, anyway?), but man oh man, do I love those Cadbury Eggs. I love that we celebrate the new life that surrounds us in nature, and that we hope in all things made new in the Resurrection of Christ. </div><div><br /></div><div>Easter is usually the season when I am most reflective of my life in God, and of the "Kingdom lifestyle" I have chosen to orient my life around. In fact, around 8:25 am Sunday morning (35 minutes before church started), as I was furiously whisking eggs in my pajamas, I started to reflect on Easter last year. I was in the midst of a bout of serious depression, struggling minutely with anxiety, desperate for consolation and guidance on dealing with Ed's impending death (he died two days after Easter last year), and felt isolated and withdrawn from life around me. The season of Lent and Easter was actually a dark season for me: in this time of life and newness, I was feeling grief, pain, and despair. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, within the next few months, the clouds of depression started to lift, and the sun of hope and peace started to shine once more. I was able to make some internal and external life changes that reduced my anxiety and increased my connection with community. I made many new friends, deepened the friendship I had, and started to seriously reflect on the next steps I would take in my future. I felt alive and liberated: hope was no longer something I anticipated, but something I lived in. Though this year has certainly been hard, I think I will (hesitantly) declare that I am more healthy than I probably have been in awhile, if not ever. </div><div><br /></div><div>And, you know, Thanks Be to God, right?! I am so thankful for this time in which I really live in hope for the future. And I'm sure many of us are able to relate to this scenario: life is hard (really, really, <i>really</i> hard) sometimes, and it sometimes seems impossible to get out of bed and go on. But, sometimes by making good choices, and sometimes by sheer miracles, things turn around, and life seems livable again. The possibility of good things continuing to happen doesn't seem so remote. </div><div><br /></div><div>However, if that is what hope is--painful situations alleviating, and us feeling like life is good and possible--then I don't really like it. I don't think it has a place in Christianity, to be honest. It makes hope contingent on the diminishing of pain, trouble, despair, and death; it leaves no room for miracles. And don't get me wrong: I am not discussing the daily troubles and problems in life; I am talking about the devastating, crippling problems in life--both death of the body and the death we experience in life. The things that overtake us, that entrap us in despair. The things that make us not want to get out of bed in the morning because we know we must face them. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the little Evangelical Church I grew up in, we would equate deliverance with the movement of God: if someone's illness was healed, if someone's difficult financial situation turned around, if major church problems dissipated, then all thanks was given to God. If we kept praying and praying with no avail, then we still gave thanks to God in the hope that eventually it would, because God is faithful to us. A gratefulness that I certainly admire, but an expectancy I am not sure I can jive with. This is why: in our finite minds, in our finite understanding of time, we try to fit what God's faithfulness is into a timeline we can understand--namely, in our lifetimes. We expect that eventually, things will turn around, because that's what God's faithfulness means. And who can blame us, right? How else are we expected to get through life--which for most around the world and in history is "nasty, brutal, and short"--without hope for deliverance? Maybe, <i>maybe</i> we live with the hope that even if we do not live to see our situation in life turn around, future generations will see that hope actualized. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, what if it doesn't? What if none of us live to see all of the poverty, all of the injustice, all of the pain, all of the sickness, all of the despair vanquished? Does that mean God is not faithful to us? Yes, God promises life for all in the future Kingdom, but God also promises death for all who choose to follow Christ. The story I told to the kids on Easter Sunday said that, yes, we remember the Crucifixion of Christ in light of the Resurrection, but that we also remember the Resurrection in the light of the Crucifixion. We cannot have one without the other, they cannot be pulled apart. Death has lost it's eternal sting because<i> </i>Christ<i> died</i>; God showed faithfulness on Holy Saturday by communing with the dead and the damned. And when He rose from the grave, his body was still wounded; and Scriptures don't give us any reason to doubt that Christ's body was wounded when He ascended into heaven. Therefore, the Church, as the Body of Christ, still displays the wounds of the Crucifixion. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, what does it mean for us to hope when we are eternally wounded? I guess it means that, a.) hell, let's still live in the hope in the future Kingdom of God being made full! That still remains to be God's promise to us, I think. But, also, b.) we must remember that the God of the universe, stars, little bunny rabbits and precious children is also the God that communes with the poor, the hungry, the outcast, the depressed, the sick, the disabled, the political prisoners, the terrorists, and the damned. God sits with them. God grieves with them. God dies with them. God does not promise that we will not suffer, but rather that God suffers with us. When we hope for life, God brings it by sitting with us in our suffering, but not necessarily by alleviating it. We hope in life actualized in the nearness of God. </div><div><br /></div><div>Please don't get me wrong: I believe in goodness, I believe in joy, and I believe in rest. These things are all in God, I think. And I really do believe that miracles happen--that Jesus still spits down in the dirt to make mud to heal a blind man. But I hope never to dismiss the reality of death--which is not final, but certainly very, very present. Right now, my thoughts go to my grandmother, who is suffering from Alzheimer's. Her mind, literally, is deteriorating: she is loosing her memory of her life and loved ones, and there are days she is but a shadow of her former self. And I don't believe that when she dies, her soul--"the real her"--is going to be released from her body and then go to heaven, and everything is going to be ok (mainly, because that's neo-Platonic, rather than Biblical). But I do believe that God sits with her as she suffers, and that God suffers with her. The Creator of the Universe sits and communes with an old woman who doesn't even know who she is anymore. She is never left alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>What hope, then, have we in God's faithfulness! God is the life that dwells among death. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-89036635459702444002010-02-18T20:47:00.001-08:002010-02-18T21:00:52.539-08:00compiled thoughts on death that will one day make life..<p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:x-small;">(I wrote most of this almost a year ago, which means it's almost been a year since Ed 's death. I figured the Lenten season is a good time to reflect on our mortality and the hope which yet carries us through. I still miss you, Ed...)</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: right;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><i>April 20, 2009</i></p><p style="text-align: right;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><i><br /></i></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">The first hour of my drive up north is always hard because I am driving through all of the familiar places, knowing they are not my destination...</span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><br /></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">I have traveled to the place where I was raised to attend the funeral of a man who helped shape my sense of self. I, as did he, found out he was given 6 months to live a month ago; the prognosis changed to two weeks on Sunday, then two days on Monday. He died early Wednesday morning. I cried almost constantly for those two days until I received "the news", and stopped until the moment I entered the room where his funeral was held. I had to protect myself: death had entered into our lives with much violence this week. </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><br /></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">I have an interesting relationship with death. My knowledge of it isn't through witnessing the path of nature approaching its completion, the circle of life coming to a close. We Dosens are a hearty people--I have been to more 90th birthday parties than I have funerals of my aged relatives. The death I've know is only in the raw, knawingly tragic way. A 19-year-old church member killed in a car accident when I was 16. My mother's best friend succumbing to lung cancer before 50, leaving behind a 14 and 5-year-old, though she had never smoked a cigarette in her life. My dear high school pastor, mentor, and friend, Ed, who left his 7 and 5-year old at 37 last Wednesday, along with a host of communities that were touched by his faith, love, and compassion. I haven't known poverty; I haven't lived through dire injustice; I haven't seen genocide; but I have mourned. I am thankful that my hope in life has remained. </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><br /></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">The funeral was a blur: I kept trying to hold back the immensity of tears that were building in my eyes, the constant reflections on Ed's wonderful life and cheesy humor acting as the scaffolding to my composure. After the service, I went out for lunch with a group of my old friends from high school. It was an entrance into the perpetual circle of attempted reconciliation and painful reminders that all of us change beyond recognition from the people we once were. Especially me. The personal affect of the loss began to weigh down on me: Ed was one of the few people from home who really knew me. He knew about those terrible things that I have been through, and cherished what I have become. My gateway to much of what made up my past life was gone.</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><br /></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">I returned to my parents house, and not the house I grew up in, with the desire to think of anything else besides the week I had just experienced, so I decided to clean my closet that held all of my old things, much to my mother's delight. I decided to sort my depression away, and toss my grief aside with old photographs and term papers from my high school years. The spring cleaning of my soul yielded many moments of necessary reflection, especially over how skinny I actually was after finding those pictures from high school. I found that I was able to look through the box I had of Parker's things--the very existence of which disgusted me, but yet could not make myself dispose of. Though Ed's death plunged me into a despair that I did not emerge from for another 4 months, it did help release the heavy armor of pain and self-rejection that I had been bearing for the years following my break-up with him, my manipulative high school boyfriend (manipulative's being generous). I think I threw that box away.</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><br /></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">My favorite finds were some things that I had stored from the summer after my freshman year of college--a summer of romance with both a man and a country, neither of which ever fully panned out. I had met and started dating the man whom I would be paired with for almost the entire remaining duration of college, and had traveled to Russia, with which I wish I had fallen harder for, between the two of them. I went to Russia after loosing a bet to God that there would not be a suitable place in the world where I could go to on a short-term summer mission trip. When the school-sponsored trips began to be advertised, I knew I didn't really want to go anywhere, but felt severely un-Evangelical for feeling thus, and said, "Fine, God: if there is a trip to...um...Russia, I'll go", thinking, of course, no one on earth would plan a trip to Russia. And the rest is history...</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">Russia captured a large portion of my heart that it still holds, and I was pleased to have much of my community back at home supporting me in my ventures there. The school wrote letters out to people who I listed as important to me, asking that they write me a letter of encouragement. Ed was one of those people, and his letter, though self-proclaimed terrible at grammatical structure, gave me hope and peace when I wondered what I was doing there. Though four years later I still wonder, I believe Ed's expression through writing his letter helps shed light a bit: I went to love. I always go forth to love. </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><br /></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">I found and read the letter written to me four years ago by this wonderful friend. Only when I reconnect with the life we shared together by reading its words, when the sensation of our intimacy of friendship and mentorship is rekindled, can I say at the time of his death, "God, You are Good." When I am reminded of why God gives us one another, the loss becomes a little more understandable and the pain a little more tolerable. With this letter, the life of Ed in God will always remain--God has graced me with the essence of who this man is on a 8 1/2 x 11" sheet of paper that I will carry with me always. My journey would not have been the same if it weren't for my brother Ed, and I pray that he remembers me, and all of those precious people his compassion and Christ-like (yet imperfect) heart has touched. </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; "><br /></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Papyrus; ">The parting words in Ed's letter to me were: "Finish strong and seize the endless opportunities afforded you daily." I will, my brother, I will. In Christ's name, and for Christ's Kingdom, I will. I love you, my friend.</p>m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8359846327944313051.post-32373077752657091032010-02-16T22:33:00.001-08:002010-02-16T22:34:25.333-08:00Anybody know of any good websites that have daily Lenten prayers/Scripture readings? I'm thinking of adding something to my life for the next 44 days, rather than taking away.m. kaylahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15416333535140216544noreply@blogger.com3