Sunday, November 26, 2006
Tattoo
Lately I’ve been really interested in getting a tattoo. Kevin said I could get one if I still wanted one in a year… unfortunately I don’t remember when the year started so we’ll just have to give an intelligent estimate of maybe six months ago… so six more months to go.
The reasons why:
1- I’ve always been fascinated by them… or curious I should say…
2- I think they provoke awesome conversations… What an easy way to get to know somebody by the story behind their tattoos. Imagine what you could freely tell somebody just because they asked about something as simple and common as a tattoo.
3- They are unique… the way to mark your body because it is different, because you have something to say, because your story is important and worth sharing
4- I’ve always felt like my “outside” doesn’t always match my “inside”. I look like a nice, quiet, shy, simple girl and to be honest, I really don’t feel that way and would like people to know- hey- I have a feisty spirit too!
So I finally found something “tattoo worthy” and I have to admit, it was very difficult to find. I’ve been searching for months for what the tattoo would be and finally have an idea.
Beads of Water. I’d tattoo a few on the inside of my wrist- that way they can easily be hidden by a watch or bracelet or easily revealed. Why water beads? Because I’ve always been fascinated by water. It has come to represent peace to me. Whenever I’m around bodies of water, I feel as though I can never leave. The way waves gently ripple thru a lake, or crazily wash over each other in the sea, capture my gaze and hold my heart. When I watch the water, I finally feel completely still… time seems to slow and I can feel myself just breathing. It’s okay to be still and just breathe.
Sometimes we get to experience water in very concrete ways- such as when we visit a lake or spend the day at the beach. Other times, when our lives are busy, we have to suffice with our neighbor’s sprinkler system or beads of water on a leaf. And… at still other times, when life feels as dry as a dessert, we just have to believe that even though we may not see it… it’s in us. It’s a part of us. Literally- water makes up like 60% of your body (or something- I don’t care to be exact right now.)
I say peace, but maybe that’s just what love feels like. Water beads- love- they do exist. I’d like to remind myself and get to tell everybody else thru a tattoo. I guess we’ll see in six months. :)
The reasons why:
1- I’ve always been fascinated by them… or curious I should say…
2- I think they provoke awesome conversations… What an easy way to get to know somebody by the story behind their tattoos. Imagine what you could freely tell somebody just because they asked about something as simple and common as a tattoo.
3- They are unique… the way to mark your body because it is different, because you have something to say, because your story is important and worth sharing
4- I’ve always felt like my “outside” doesn’t always match my “inside”. I look like a nice, quiet, shy, simple girl and to be honest, I really don’t feel that way and would like people to know- hey- I have a feisty spirit too!
So I finally found something “tattoo worthy” and I have to admit, it was very difficult to find. I’ve been searching for months for what the tattoo would be and finally have an idea.
Beads of Water. I’d tattoo a few on the inside of my wrist- that way they can easily be hidden by a watch or bracelet or easily revealed. Why water beads? Because I’ve always been fascinated by water. It has come to represent peace to me. Whenever I’m around bodies of water, I feel as though I can never leave. The way waves gently ripple thru a lake, or crazily wash over each other in the sea, capture my gaze and hold my heart. When I watch the water, I finally feel completely still… time seems to slow and I can feel myself just breathing. It’s okay to be still and just breathe.
Sometimes we get to experience water in very concrete ways- such as when we visit a lake or spend the day at the beach. Other times, when our lives are busy, we have to suffice with our neighbor’s sprinkler system or beads of water on a leaf. And… at still other times, when life feels as dry as a dessert, we just have to believe that even though we may not see it… it’s in us. It’s a part of us. Literally- water makes up like 60% of your body (or something- I don’t care to be exact right now.)
I say peace, but maybe that’s just what love feels like. Water beads- love- they do exist. I’d like to remind myself and get to tell everybody else thru a tattoo. I guess we’ll see in six months. :)
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Dull Moment?
Even though lately I’ve felt “stuck” in life… there are so many moments life surprises me and I remember that even though my life feels slow- the world around me is definitely still moving… the Spirit is moving- even in the moments when I can’t feel it.
The bus ride home: sometimes I feel strangely loved by the strangeness I encounter while experiencing the public transportation system of Los Angeles. I really do believe that God has a great sense of humor… and though there is a fine line between mockery and simple enjoyment, there are moments in life where you just have to- you just got to- laugh.
Friday night. I’m reading a book called “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” The book is surprisingly violent as it describes the history of soccer fan hooligans and the culture they reflect. It leaves a strange feeling in my soul every time I set the book down to look out the bus window- making sure I didn’t miss my stop. But I keep reading- looking for glimpses of hope- for a window into the soul of humanity. I haven’t found it yet- I don’t understand the strange love of violence that captivates man around the world.
The time flies by as I read… thirty minutes, forty-five, and sixty… and I’m finally on my last bus home. Twenty more minutes to go. I set my book back in my bag and look up- finally recognizing the people around me. I can’t ignore the smell- the smell of humans- humans who haven’t showered in a very very long time. I look for the homeless person but none of the people sitting around me seem to fit that profile.
There are four people on the bus that stand out to me. One… an Arab looking man, very round- he even has huge round glasses- he wears all grey, shorts that almost hide beneath his belly- and he seems uncomfortable. I can’t help but think to myself- this man really seems out of place. I wonder what he’s up to and where he’s going… but I am not about to ask.
Two and Three- a homeless couple. Yes I know earlier I said that I didn’t see any, but this couple just stepped onto the bus, a few stops after I did. Such a rare sight- a homeless couple. They were so cute- the woman hanging onto the arm of the man- they looked out for each other. He carried the sleeping bag while she carried the rest. I wondered about them too… where will they sleep tonight?
And lastly- a man gets onto the bus… dressed in a suit- sort of. He has a button up shirt and a tie on… but the tie is irrelevant to the shirt- and tied loosely around his neck. He carries a binder of loose paper and a huge homemade poster that reads “Election Fake Treachery”. The strangest part is… throughout the entire twenty minute ride through the Hollywood Hills, this man breaks out in sprits of silent laughter. I look up to see his body shaking and a huge smile on his face… but at what? Its dark outside- I can barely make out the buildings we pass- but yet he breaks out in another set- he chuckles to himself- no he’s not using a hidden cell phone piece either. And he avoids eye contact with everybody on the bus- just minding his own business, laughing to the voices he hears in his head. His silent laugher becomes more frequent as we near the final stop- Ventura and Laurel Canyon. And I realize he’s about to join the usual Friday protest.
Every single Friday night, a group gathers at this intersection- a block from our apartment- to petition the war. They hold signs that say “honk for peace” and “we hate bush”- okay maybe not those words specifically, but you get the point. I have to walk straight through them to get to the other side of the street so I get to see them up close- a man strumming his guitar, candles to reminisce the memory of those in Iraq, pamphlets set up on a table in case a curious lad does walk by…
The best part though- is the Republicans that sit on the opposite side of the street. They are always outnumbered- three Republicans to maybe thirty Dems… and there is an enforced rule- they must stay on their own side of the street. The Dems to the North- the Reps to the South. I’ve seen cops enforce the rule by parking their patrol car to the side and blaring a horn and flashing their car lights every time one of them enters the crosswalk. Tonight though, there are no cops, so they test the limits, although only to a certain point. When the traffic light flashes the white “walk” sign, one Dem heads out to meet one Rep… they stop in the center of the road and whisper threats and accusations at one another, holding their signs high above their heads- looking at the surrounding cars for support, and then just barely making it back to their post before the light changes again.
It’s amazing. I laugh to myself as I walk to meet Kevin at the grocery store. Another boring day at work- but never a boring moment in Los Angeles.
The bus ride home: sometimes I feel strangely loved by the strangeness I encounter while experiencing the public transportation system of Los Angeles. I really do believe that God has a great sense of humor… and though there is a fine line between mockery and simple enjoyment, there are moments in life where you just have to- you just got to- laugh.
Friday night. I’m reading a book called “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” The book is surprisingly violent as it describes the history of soccer fan hooligans and the culture they reflect. It leaves a strange feeling in my soul every time I set the book down to look out the bus window- making sure I didn’t miss my stop. But I keep reading- looking for glimpses of hope- for a window into the soul of humanity. I haven’t found it yet- I don’t understand the strange love of violence that captivates man around the world.
The time flies by as I read… thirty minutes, forty-five, and sixty… and I’m finally on my last bus home. Twenty more minutes to go. I set my book back in my bag and look up- finally recognizing the people around me. I can’t ignore the smell- the smell of humans- humans who haven’t showered in a very very long time. I look for the homeless person but none of the people sitting around me seem to fit that profile.
There are four people on the bus that stand out to me. One… an Arab looking man, very round- he even has huge round glasses- he wears all grey, shorts that almost hide beneath his belly- and he seems uncomfortable. I can’t help but think to myself- this man really seems out of place. I wonder what he’s up to and where he’s going… but I am not about to ask.
Two and Three- a homeless couple. Yes I know earlier I said that I didn’t see any, but this couple just stepped onto the bus, a few stops after I did. Such a rare sight- a homeless couple. They were so cute- the woman hanging onto the arm of the man- they looked out for each other. He carried the sleeping bag while she carried the rest. I wondered about them too… where will they sleep tonight?
And lastly- a man gets onto the bus… dressed in a suit- sort of. He has a button up shirt and a tie on… but the tie is irrelevant to the shirt- and tied loosely around his neck. He carries a binder of loose paper and a huge homemade poster that reads “Election Fake Treachery”. The strangest part is… throughout the entire twenty minute ride through the Hollywood Hills, this man breaks out in sprits of silent laughter. I look up to see his body shaking and a huge smile on his face… but at what? Its dark outside- I can barely make out the buildings we pass- but yet he breaks out in another set- he chuckles to himself- no he’s not using a hidden cell phone piece either. And he avoids eye contact with everybody on the bus- just minding his own business, laughing to the voices he hears in his head. His silent laugher becomes more frequent as we near the final stop- Ventura and Laurel Canyon. And I realize he’s about to join the usual Friday protest.
Every single Friday night, a group gathers at this intersection- a block from our apartment- to petition the war. They hold signs that say “honk for peace” and “we hate bush”- okay maybe not those words specifically, but you get the point. I have to walk straight through them to get to the other side of the street so I get to see them up close- a man strumming his guitar, candles to reminisce the memory of those in Iraq, pamphlets set up on a table in case a curious lad does walk by…
The best part though- is the Republicans that sit on the opposite side of the street. They are always outnumbered- three Republicans to maybe thirty Dems… and there is an enforced rule- they must stay on their own side of the street. The Dems to the North- the Reps to the South. I’ve seen cops enforce the rule by parking their patrol car to the side and blaring a horn and flashing their car lights every time one of them enters the crosswalk. Tonight though, there are no cops, so they test the limits, although only to a certain point. When the traffic light flashes the white “walk” sign, one Dem heads out to meet one Rep… they stop in the center of the road and whisper threats and accusations at one another, holding their signs high above their heads- looking at the surrounding cars for support, and then just barely making it back to their post before the light changes again.
It’s amazing. I laugh to myself as I walk to meet Kevin at the grocery store. Another boring day at work- but never a boring moment in Los Angeles.
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