Barely hanging on. My determination to stick to the fast dissipated on day 11. I caved at dinner when a server put a bread basket right in front of my plate. I caved later that night when somebody gave me a gift basket full of chocolate. Man... am I feeling it today! I am not ready to quit though... and I think we'll make this last week more spiritual than the previous ones. The first two were more about detox and health. The last one will be about restraint and pursuing our community. That should help strengthen our resolve for the last seven days!
Though the results of the first 12 days haven't been near as dramatic or noticeable as I was hoping (at least for me), there are some things I've noted:
1. Meal planning is significantly quicker because the meals are simplified. Adding meat and dairy adds so much more complexity - so much more planning and preparation.
2. Meal planning is essential. I must think about what foods are available and plan ahead - to prevent moments of desperation for things that don't really satisfy.
3. Food is personal. We've had more conversations about food than I can count. Everybody's background and culture contribute significantly to the things we choose to eat.
4. We don't know much about food. In many of our conversations, we'll discuss our beliefs about food. One friend was fully convinced grapes were completely empty of vitamins. Another promises the skin is the most healthy part. Another person swears by tomato juice. We aren't even sure what "whole grain" even really is.
5. I'm tired. The first few days I'd fall asleep by 10pm. The night I caved and ate chocolate (at 9:30pm) I was up until 3am. All those dang sugars...
6. It is readily apparent how stubborn I am. Some days I will literally wait until I am starving before I'll eat a fruit or a vegetable or a nut or a grain.
7. Fruit and granola tastes great. This is one new food I am hoping to continue eatting after the fast.
8. It is cheap. Cutting out animal products cuts out a lot of cost.
9. I just want to eat some chocolate.
Nine more days left!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Day 3 of 21
We started a 21 day detox this week – in an attempt to help ourselves make “healthier” food choices by breaking some of our addictions (to meat, sugar, processed stuff). Our current food choices include all vegetables and fruit, whole wheats, oats, barley, etc., nuts and beans.
The first two days my excitement about getting healthier sustained me. Today, though, I don’t want to eat any of the approved foods. I am thankful that I spend most of my days at the office because it helps limit my access. Today I sat at my desk starting at my salad, thinking I’d rather go hungry than eat it. But eventually I gave in to my hunger and consumed the salad.
You may be laughing – thinking how hard can it really be? But we are not fruit and vegetable people! I keep hoping that somehow this will change my attitude towards vegetables. Maybe I’ll actually want to eat them! But as my initial excitement wears off, my hope slowly diminishes. Today I dread eating – not another vegetable or fruit or bean please!
The first two days my excitement about getting healthier sustained me. Today, though, I don’t want to eat any of the approved foods. I am thankful that I spend most of my days at the office because it helps limit my access. Today I sat at my desk starting at my salad, thinking I’d rather go hungry than eat it. But eventually I gave in to my hunger and consumed the salad.
You may be laughing – thinking how hard can it really be? But we are not fruit and vegetable people! I keep hoping that somehow this will change my attitude towards vegetables. Maybe I’ll actually want to eat them! But as my initial excitement wears off, my hope slowly diminishes. Today I dread eating – not another vegetable or fruit or bean please!
Friday, May 09, 2008
Incomplete thoughts about pigs
The phrase "the pigness of pigs" keeps swirling around in my mind and I find my thoughts returning to it regardless of how irrelevant to the moment it is. I first came across this phrase as I was reading The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. In this section of the book he was visiting a truly organic small farm in Virginia and working alongside the interns and farmers. The day he used the phrase is the day he witnessed the pigs plowing through manure. Unfortunately I can't remember all the details (like what animals did the manure belong to, chickens or cows?) but I'll try to paint a vague picture so you'll appreciate the phrase as much as I did. I guess that pigs like something in manure and as they plow through it the hooves of their feet compost the pile into incredibly rich soil (which is then put over the fields). Pollan was explaining the complexity of relationships on the farm and how beautifully the entire system works together.
He was amazed as he watched their little tails wiggle as they worked their way through the pile. I guess pigs are relatively intelligent animals and can express happiness and also despair. On this little organic farm, the pigs wiggled their tails in pleasure. In factory farms, their tails are cut off so that as they move through the assembly line, the pig behind them won't be tempted to chew it – as they tend to do when in despair.
I am laughing as I type – here I am talking about manure and pig tails. Yuck! I can't believe the kind of stuff my gnawing curiosity will drive me to read!
The book continues with a discussion on how both the organic and factory farm pigs are, in a sense, exploited. One exploits them as a matter of efficiency and production, the other as a way of "celebrating" what the pigs naturally love to do. The small, organic farm had mastered "the pigness of the pigs."
One possible reason this phrase is soaking in my thoughts is because of its correlation to what I believe Mosaic is attempting to do (as I said, in my mind.) There is a type of church that exploits humans for the sake of safety. The other exploits humans as a tool of empowerment to change the world. Utilizing the "humanness of the humans" in a sense. I think that one type of church is convinced all "humanness" is bad while the other is attempting to empower the parts of "humanness" that reflect the image of God.
In the end, both pigs will be slaughtered and it is the meat that will determine their end value. Some may argue that since both ways achieve the same end – why does it matter what method was used to get them there? It is a valid question, to be sure, and one I don't think I can address in this post. I know I am leaving so much left undiscussed...
I know that as I write about this I am over-simplifying in great ways. The "pigness of the pig" doesn't easily translate into the "humanness of the human", especially if the farm is substituted for the church. However, I think its worth some thought – I know it will be in mind for quite awhile.
He was amazed as he watched their little tails wiggle as they worked their way through the pile. I guess pigs are relatively intelligent animals and can express happiness and also despair. On this little organic farm, the pigs wiggled their tails in pleasure. In factory farms, their tails are cut off so that as they move through the assembly line, the pig behind them won't be tempted to chew it – as they tend to do when in despair.
I am laughing as I type – here I am talking about manure and pig tails. Yuck! I can't believe the kind of stuff my gnawing curiosity will drive me to read!
The book continues with a discussion on how both the organic and factory farm pigs are, in a sense, exploited. One exploits them as a matter of efficiency and production, the other as a way of "celebrating" what the pigs naturally love to do. The small, organic farm had mastered "the pigness of the pigs."
One possible reason this phrase is soaking in my thoughts is because of its correlation to what I believe Mosaic is attempting to do (as I said, in my mind.) There is a type of church that exploits humans for the sake of safety. The other exploits humans as a tool of empowerment to change the world. Utilizing the "humanness of the humans" in a sense. I think that one type of church is convinced all "humanness" is bad while the other is attempting to empower the parts of "humanness" that reflect the image of God.
In the end, both pigs will be slaughtered and it is the meat that will determine their end value. Some may argue that since both ways achieve the same end – why does it matter what method was used to get them there? It is a valid question, to be sure, and one I don't think I can address in this post. I know I am leaving so much left undiscussed...
I know that as I write about this I am over-simplifying in great ways. The "pigness of the pig" doesn't easily translate into the "humanness of the human", especially if the farm is substituted for the church. However, I think its worth some thought – I know it will be in mind for quite awhile.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Person of Peace
Speak the Music event last week – an event dedicated to supporting the art of beatboxing. I absolutely LOVED it – I spent most of the night in awe of the all of the different sounds.
I caught my mind scheming about different ways to change myself to “fit in” here – to be more like them – with the music and passion I so admire.
Oh it all sounds so dumb in a post!!
Moving on… I don’t like to think of myself as one who wants to “fit in” at all. Normally I’d reject the idea altogether with a laugh. But then Speak the Music happened – and now I have undeniable proof – of my longing to be accepted. To belong.
For a lot of my life I’ve felt like I didn’t quite fit. I wasn’t the daughter my mother dreamed of having. I wasn’t skinny enough, fast enough, bold enough. I spent many years in silence being shy. I don’t remember speaking much at all in middle school. I went through so many stages – with every new crowd I’d try a new thing. Like that time I tried to be a “skater” for a month. I borrowed a black pair of Jinkos from a friend and pretended I could ride a skateboard. Then I tried the pot-smoking crowd. They were so friendly and accepting. But I really didn’t care to smoke, though I tried. Then there was the church youth group – but the only reason I fit there for awhile was because my mother convinced the older girls to have pity for me and take me in. (When they accidentally became my real friends, they told me the truth.) Then there was the gangster stage when I learned some slang, braided my hair, and pretended I was “street smart.” The list goes on and on… maybe I should call it “The People I tried to be”.
In the last few years, my disdain for myself has become unavoidable and readily apparent. I was never enough… for me. Of course I could blame it on my parents, but as the time continues to pass and the distance between us grows, it becomes more of a stretch. I can’t keep blaming others for the things I chose to believe.
I spent so many years as a wanderer – lost – searching. I traveled around the world – to China, Europe, Africa, and South America – all in search of myself.
I remember why I hated living in Los Angeles so much. It wasn’t me and I wasn’t enough. The flawless beauty and fashion of the women around me only helped me remember myself as plain and ordinary. I remember a year and a half into it, when I finally found the words to say “I don’t like who I’ve become.”
What then? Where do you go next? I had to endure. I survived. My determination outweighed my faintness of heart. Because although I may be lost – I am not a quitter. (Though I quit like 15 jobs in high school – but that was then.)
Then, finally, we moved here. Here. I determined last night that regardless of whether or not I ever married Kevin, we (God and I) would have eventually came here. I don’t know how long it would have taken – but we would be here. This is my place of peace. This is the time for my heart to heal and accept who I am and who I am not… and live. There is something to be said about a person of peace. I want to be that person.
I caught my mind scheming about different ways to change myself to “fit in” here – to be more like them – with the music and passion I so admire.
Oh it all sounds so dumb in a post!!
Moving on… I don’t like to think of myself as one who wants to “fit in” at all. Normally I’d reject the idea altogether with a laugh. But then Speak the Music happened – and now I have undeniable proof – of my longing to be accepted. To belong.
For a lot of my life I’ve felt like I didn’t quite fit. I wasn’t the daughter my mother dreamed of having. I wasn’t skinny enough, fast enough, bold enough. I spent many years in silence being shy. I don’t remember speaking much at all in middle school. I went through so many stages – with every new crowd I’d try a new thing. Like that time I tried to be a “skater” for a month. I borrowed a black pair of Jinkos from a friend and pretended I could ride a skateboard. Then I tried the pot-smoking crowd. They were so friendly and accepting. But I really didn’t care to smoke, though I tried. Then there was the church youth group – but the only reason I fit there for awhile was because my mother convinced the older girls to have pity for me and take me in. (When they accidentally became my real friends, they told me the truth.) Then there was the gangster stage when I learned some slang, braided my hair, and pretended I was “street smart.” The list goes on and on… maybe I should call it “The People I tried to be”.
In the last few years, my disdain for myself has become unavoidable and readily apparent. I was never enough… for me. Of course I could blame it on my parents, but as the time continues to pass and the distance between us grows, it becomes more of a stretch. I can’t keep blaming others for the things I chose to believe.
I spent so many years as a wanderer – lost – searching. I traveled around the world – to China, Europe, Africa, and South America – all in search of myself.
I remember why I hated living in Los Angeles so much. It wasn’t me and I wasn’t enough. The flawless beauty and fashion of the women around me only helped me remember myself as plain and ordinary. I remember a year and a half into it, when I finally found the words to say “I don’t like who I’ve become.”
What then? Where do you go next? I had to endure. I survived. My determination outweighed my faintness of heart. Because although I may be lost – I am not a quitter. (Though I quit like 15 jobs in high school – but that was then.)
Then, finally, we moved here. Here. I determined last night that regardless of whether or not I ever married Kevin, we (God and I) would have eventually came here. I don’t know how long it would have taken – but we would be here. This is my place of peace. This is the time for my heart to heal and accept who I am and who I am not… and live. There is something to be said about a person of peace. I want to be that person.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Season of Silence
I’ve been on a reading binge. My hunger for knowledge and new information compels me to retreat into my thoughts. With every page, I feel myself pulled deeper and deeper – into the expanses of my mind. It is an unending voyage. I could set sail and disappear forever in the adventures of the infinite horizon.
Though the ring of my cell phone quickly brings me back to the front porch where I now sit, it takes me nearly a half hour to transition my mind – to tie up the boat and step back onto the dock. Promises to return help calm my irritation.
Back in the busyness I feel slightly awkward and out of place. Not much has changed since I’ve been gone – but I feel so different. I even begin to wonder if I left my social skills behind… or if I ever had them to begin with. I want to apologize and tell them not to worry, “I am just an introvert,” yet those words make me cringe. I do not want to be misunderstood. I love people. The intensity of my curiosity could drive me to devote hours and days and weeks and months to studying their thoughts. I could stand in silence forever just to be able to listen to their voices.
Though the ring of my cell phone quickly brings me back to the front porch where I now sit, it takes me nearly a half hour to transition my mind – to tie up the boat and step back onto the dock. Promises to return help calm my irritation.
Back in the busyness I feel slightly awkward and out of place. Not much has changed since I’ve been gone – but I feel so different. I even begin to wonder if I left my social skills behind… or if I ever had them to begin with. I want to apologize and tell them not to worry, “I am just an introvert,” yet those words make me cringe. I do not want to be misunderstood. I love people. The intensity of my curiosity could drive me to devote hours and days and weeks and months to studying their thoughts. I could stand in silence forever just to be able to listen to their voices.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Ishmael the Gorilla, Part II
Did God stop creating once man was created?
Was the world created for man... or was man created to be part of all creation?
What did the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil represent?
What if we had ate from the Tree of Life instead?
Does intelligence evolve over time?
To use a metaphor that Ishmael mentioned, I feel like a tourist in my hometown. Residents don't act like tourists because they don't need to - they know their land. They know the monument that sits in the town square and the boats that sail in the bay. There is no need to revisit them and take pictures to refer back to - for they are embedded in our minds and in our consciousness - or are they? I feel like a tourist in my hometown. I thought I knew what it looked like, but at a second glance I am surprised. Is this what I saw last time I was here? Is this what the tourists see?
Everybody has colored lenses that they view life through. Our lenses are built from our past - our experiences, our thoughts, our personalities, our talents, our hopes, our dreams... they are uniquely ours. Often times it seems we search for people in life that have similar lenses to our own. Its only natural I think - a result of an innate desire to belong to someone, with something. To belong.
And now I'm twenty five. There is nothing special about my age - but it has changed my quest - my search. My desire to belong has not disappeared, nor has it been checked off as if I've managed to complete it - a new quest has merely filled my time and my thoughts. I can't quite name it yet and I hesitate to do so. As if slapping on a name would confine the quest in unexpected ways. All I know is this - before I was even aware of what I was doing, I've managed to slip on different pairs of lenses. Lenses so different, sometimes contrasting, to the one I once refused to live without.
At times I feel fear - as if I'm losing my mind or on the verge of going crazy. At other times I feel enlightened - as if I'm seeing life for the very first time.
I'll leave you with a quote from Ishmael, a very different, abstract lens...
"In other words, the world doesn't need to belong to man - but it does need man to belong to it. Some creature had to be the first to go through this, had to see that there were two trees in the garden, one that was good for gods and one that was good for creatures. Some creature had to find the way and if that happened, then there was just no limit to what could happen here. In other words, man does have a place in the world, but its not his place to rule. The gods have that in hand. Man's place is to be the first. Man's place is to be the first without being the last.
Ishmael, pg. 243, Daniel Quinn
Was the world created for man... or was man created to be part of all creation?
What did the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil represent?
What if we had ate from the Tree of Life instead?
Does intelligence evolve over time?
To use a metaphor that Ishmael mentioned, I feel like a tourist in my hometown. Residents don't act like tourists because they don't need to - they know their land. They know the monument that sits in the town square and the boats that sail in the bay. There is no need to revisit them and take pictures to refer back to - for they are embedded in our minds and in our consciousness - or are they? I feel like a tourist in my hometown. I thought I knew what it looked like, but at a second glance I am surprised. Is this what I saw last time I was here? Is this what the tourists see?
Everybody has colored lenses that they view life through. Our lenses are built from our past - our experiences, our thoughts, our personalities, our talents, our hopes, our dreams... they are uniquely ours. Often times it seems we search for people in life that have similar lenses to our own. Its only natural I think - a result of an innate desire to belong to someone, with something. To belong.
And now I'm twenty five. There is nothing special about my age - but it has changed my quest - my search. My desire to belong has not disappeared, nor has it been checked off as if I've managed to complete it - a new quest has merely filled my time and my thoughts. I can't quite name it yet and I hesitate to do so. As if slapping on a name would confine the quest in unexpected ways. All I know is this - before I was even aware of what I was doing, I've managed to slip on different pairs of lenses. Lenses so different, sometimes contrasting, to the one I once refused to live without.
At times I feel fear - as if I'm losing my mind or on the verge of going crazy. At other times I feel enlightened - as if I'm seeing life for the very first time.
I'll leave you with a quote from Ishmael, a very different, abstract lens...
"In other words, the world doesn't need to belong to man - but it does need man to belong to it. Some creature had to be the first to go through this, had to see that there were two trees in the garden, one that was good for gods and one that was good for creatures. Some creature had to find the way and if that happened, then there was just no limit to what could happen here. In other words, man does have a place in the world, but its not his place to rule. The gods have that in hand. Man's place is to be the first. Man's place is to be the first without being the last.
Ishmael, pg. 243, Daniel Quinn
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Ishmael the gorilla
Last night I started reading the first book I’ve ever checked out of the library (at least since we’ve moved here) – Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. The book immediately captivated me and as I sit in my office this morning, I dream about being able to read again. Nine more hours till I get to re-enter into the adventure… nine more hours.
While I wait, and as I work, I think about what I’ve read so far. In the two chapters I’ve had the pleasure of reading, the book talks about the captivating effects of culture. Like an animal forced to move forward in a stampede – so the movement of culture can make us face a direction we didn’t exactly choose. It talks about how culture whispers to us constantly – a voice so consistent that it disappears into the background. Like a constant buzzing – it is always there, just under the radar of our consciousness.
My thoughts wander to a news update I heard this morning as the alarm went off. It was a report from Texas about the upcoming elections. The reporter was interviewing a few people from one of those massive mega churches. When asked about who they would vote for, the Christians remarked, “Well of course we’re voting for Huckabee because he’s a Christian.” After a few more seconds, and a few more comments directed at Hillary and the roles of women in leading, I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to turn it off. I calmed myself by imagining that if I silenced my radio it somehow silenced it to the rest of the world.
Now back to culture – I ponder the relationship between Jesus and culture. He was magnificently relevant yet counter-cultural at the same time. The more I learn about him, the more I admire his mysticism and genius. The church, or rather the body of believers that follow Jesus, have a difficult model to imitate. When I think about the Texas mega Christians I can’t help but think they missed it – they thought that creating their own sub-culture apart from the “worldly” one would be sufficient… but, in my opinion, it only led to estrangement and alienation of others different from them. I say this, realizing how tempting it is to do just this – to create a safe place, a refuge – to keep moving forward with culture yet feel protected by your own walls. I could easily fall into making the same choices – but my location and my experience have led me down a different path from them. Indeed, I’m sure I’ve created my own walls around different subjects and for different purposes – but we’ll save that discussion for another day.
So what does this look like – how will we do it – be magnificently relevant yet counter-cultural? I don’t think I can figure it out today, or on my own accord, but I’m excited for the journey.
While I wait, and as I work, I think about what I’ve read so far. In the two chapters I’ve had the pleasure of reading, the book talks about the captivating effects of culture. Like an animal forced to move forward in a stampede – so the movement of culture can make us face a direction we didn’t exactly choose. It talks about how culture whispers to us constantly – a voice so consistent that it disappears into the background. Like a constant buzzing – it is always there, just under the radar of our consciousness.
My thoughts wander to a news update I heard this morning as the alarm went off. It was a report from Texas about the upcoming elections. The reporter was interviewing a few people from one of those massive mega churches. When asked about who they would vote for, the Christians remarked, “Well of course we’re voting for Huckabee because he’s a Christian.” After a few more seconds, and a few more comments directed at Hillary and the roles of women in leading, I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to turn it off. I calmed myself by imagining that if I silenced my radio it somehow silenced it to the rest of the world.
Now back to culture – I ponder the relationship between Jesus and culture. He was magnificently relevant yet counter-cultural at the same time. The more I learn about him, the more I admire his mysticism and genius. The church, or rather the body of believers that follow Jesus, have a difficult model to imitate. When I think about the Texas mega Christians I can’t help but think they missed it – they thought that creating their own sub-culture apart from the “worldly” one would be sufficient… but, in my opinion, it only led to estrangement and alienation of others different from them. I say this, realizing how tempting it is to do just this – to create a safe place, a refuge – to keep moving forward with culture yet feel protected by your own walls. I could easily fall into making the same choices – but my location and my experience have led me down a different path from them. Indeed, I’m sure I’ve created my own walls around different subjects and for different purposes – but we’ll save that discussion for another day.
So what does this look like – how will we do it – be magnificently relevant yet counter-cultural? I don’t think I can figure it out today, or on my own accord, but I’m excited for the journey.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Women of the church
Here I go again, causing trouble. I promise, it's not intentional. And I am not the least bit angry as I write... and I am definitely not trained in "writing" so please be gracious with me as I engage this conversation...
To start, the topic of women leadership has been on my mind A LOT. It seems to come up in a lot of my conversations and it is always in the back of my mind as I process thru different areas. Shortly before the holidays, I ran across this book, Microtrends, and I had to read it. The reason I mention this book is because it backs up the increasing sense of urgency I've felt around women leadership/involvement. The book immediately starts out by talking about the rising number of single women in the United States - and how they outnumber men 53 to 47. It goes on to talk about women outnumbering men in fields like law, public relations, and journalism. Women outvoted men 54 to 46 percent in the 2004 presidential election. Women outnumber men in college by about 57 to 43 percent. And it doesn't stop there - single women were the second largest group of home-buyers in 2005. It goes on to talk about the large percentage of women that own or manage their own business, how women purchase more cars than men... and on and on. Basically, if we look at the statistics, the United States of America is quickly becoming all about women. Women owned, managed, designed...
I fear that if women leadership/involvement is not made a serious priority - the church will lose relevance with over half of the United States.
I'll conclude sharing one thought - this is one of the most liberating thoughts I've come across so far concerning women and God - and the main reason I've become increasingly concerned that men misunderstand who God is.
In the introduction to the book, The End of All Religion, Bruxy Cavey says "I should also take this opportunity to mention that I use the male pronouns "he" and "him" in reference to God with both regret and conviction. The Bible does not teach that God is male. God is Spirit, within whom maleness and femaleness both find their origin and identity (see Genesis 1:26-27; John 4:24). And here we encounter the limitations of language. English, like the original languages of the Bible (Hebrew and Greek), does not provide us with a gender-inclusive, singular, personal pronoun. And I don't want to refer to God in impersonal terms. (He is not an it.) Therefore, I use male pronouns because of my conviction that God is personal, not because I think he is male. Further, I wish to align my syntax with the ancient languages."
To start, the topic of women leadership has been on my mind A LOT. It seems to come up in a lot of my conversations and it is always in the back of my mind as I process thru different areas. Shortly before the holidays, I ran across this book, Microtrends, and I had to read it. The reason I mention this book is because it backs up the increasing sense of urgency I've felt around women leadership/involvement. The book immediately starts out by talking about the rising number of single women in the United States - and how they outnumber men 53 to 47. It goes on to talk about women outnumbering men in fields like law, public relations, and journalism. Women outvoted men 54 to 46 percent in the 2004 presidential election. Women outnumber men in college by about 57 to 43 percent. And it doesn't stop there - single women were the second largest group of home-buyers in 2005. It goes on to talk about the large percentage of women that own or manage their own business, how women purchase more cars than men... and on and on. Basically, if we look at the statistics, the United States of America is quickly becoming all about women. Women owned, managed, designed...
I fear that if women leadership/involvement is not made a serious priority - the church will lose relevance with over half of the United States.
I'll conclude sharing one thought - this is one of the most liberating thoughts I've come across so far concerning women and God - and the main reason I've become increasingly concerned that men misunderstand who God is.
In the introduction to the book, The End of All Religion, Bruxy Cavey says "I should also take this opportunity to mention that I use the male pronouns "he" and "him" in reference to God with both regret and conviction. The Bible does not teach that God is male. God is Spirit, within whom maleness and femaleness both find their origin and identity (see Genesis 1:26-27; John 4:24). And here we encounter the limitations of language. English, like the original languages of the Bible (Hebrew and Greek), does not provide us with a gender-inclusive, singular, personal pronoun. And I don't want to refer to God in impersonal terms. (He is not an it.) Therefore, I use male pronouns because of my conviction that God is personal, not because I think he is male. Further, I wish to align my syntax with the ancient languages."
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sometimes advertising works
One of my co-workers is from Germany. Another is from Denmark. I love to hear them answer the phone when a family member calls - as they speak their native language. It is one of my favorite things about California - the diversity of people. In the grand scheme of things, we are all alike in that we are human. It's the small things that can make us so very different.
A perfect example, is assuming both co-workers were unmarried because they didn't have a ring on their left hand. When I finally asked her, my friend from Germany explained that they (Europeans) wear wedding rings on their right hand. Same finger, different hand. It wasn't until a week later at work, that I realized my co-worker from Denmark wears a ring on her right hand - hence the reason I always assumed she was unmarried. And it's not the type of ring that shouts "American engagement" either - they are bands without diamonds that they receive only on their wedding day (not at their engagement). My German friends also told me that they don't spend a "ridiculous" amount of money like Americans do either.
Wow - we really gave into the diamond advertising didn't we?
A perfect example, is assuming both co-workers were unmarried because they didn't have a ring on their left hand. When I finally asked her, my friend from Germany explained that they (Europeans) wear wedding rings on their right hand. Same finger, different hand. It wasn't until a week later at work, that I realized my co-worker from Denmark wears a ring on her right hand - hence the reason I always assumed she was unmarried. And it's not the type of ring that shouts "American engagement" either - they are bands without diamonds that they receive only on their wedding day (not at their engagement). My German friends also told me that they don't spend a "ridiculous" amount of money like Americans do either.
Wow - we really gave into the diamond advertising didn't we?
Friday, January 25, 2008
Microtrends: Swing is Still King
I am currently reading Microtrends - written by Mark Penn - a guy that built a career out of gathering information and turning them into useful statistics. The book emphasizes the significance of 1 percent of the population. One percent. One percent of people making a similar choice - contrary to mainstream - that can create a movement capable of changing the world. It's not a book about how they will change the world, but about how they could. It's a fascinating study of what could be.
The book covers everything - Love, Sex, Relationships, work life, race and religion, health and wellness, family life, teens, lifestyle, money and class, fashion... Every area of life you could imagine. Of course it has a section on politics as well - and today, that is the section most on my mind.
Rather than try to rephrase his work, I'll include some quotes below. I've said this before and I'll say it again - it's an exciting time to be alive. Change is in the air.
"In the past fifty years, the number of Americans who call themselves Independents, rather than Democrats or Republicans, has grown from under one-quarter to over one-third of the voting public. In California alone, the proportion of Independent voters more than doubled between 1991 and 2005. The fastest growing political party in America is no party."
"That is a radical new willingness on the part of Americans to look at individual candidates, not party slates. It's the sign of a thinking electorate, not a partisan one."
"The power of the swing voters versus the base is not limited to the United States. In the U.K., there is the same kind of shift making the difference between Labour and Conservative governments. Once again, voters free of the party reins switch back and forth, most often based on who they believe will make the best leader, not which party they believe has the right platform."
"The impact is profound. The movement to watch is really the global Third Way movement - the triumph of pragmatic, independent thinking over left- or right-wing theology."
It's an exciting time to be alive. Change is in the air.
The book covers everything - Love, Sex, Relationships, work life, race and religion, health and wellness, family life, teens, lifestyle, money and class, fashion... Every area of life you could imagine. Of course it has a section on politics as well - and today, that is the section most on my mind.
Rather than try to rephrase his work, I'll include some quotes below. I've said this before and I'll say it again - it's an exciting time to be alive. Change is in the air.
"In the past fifty years, the number of Americans who call themselves Independents, rather than Democrats or Republicans, has grown from under one-quarter to over one-third of the voting public. In California alone, the proportion of Independent voters more than doubled between 1991 and 2005. The fastest growing political party in America is no party."
"That is a radical new willingness on the part of Americans to look at individual candidates, not party slates. It's the sign of a thinking electorate, not a partisan one."
"The power of the swing voters versus the base is not limited to the United States. In the U.K., there is the same kind of shift making the difference between Labour and Conservative governments. Once again, voters free of the party reins switch back and forth, most often based on who they believe will make the best leader, not which party they believe has the right platform."
"The impact is profound. The movement to watch is really the global Third Way movement - the triumph of pragmatic, independent thinking over left- or right-wing theology."
It's an exciting time to be alive. Change is in the air.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Back into the deep end.
This afternoon I practiced walking with my eyes closed. It was an unplanned activity that took place on the Berkeley Marina pier. It happened quite accidentally – I was savoring the heat of the sun on my face and the wind blowing against my back – and couldn’t help but close my eyes. Do you think I’m crazy yet? Or maybe I’m just strange?
I am okay with strange.
I am okay with strange.
Home for the holidays
Over the holidays, Kevin and I went to Kansas City to visit our families and friends. One morning, everybody in the house was gone and I had a few hours to myself. I sat in a chair, looking out the window, watching the snow fall. It was beautiful.
I can see Him so clearly out there. In the peace – the way the snow falls gently to the ground. In the tree branches, I can see Him move. His voice travels with the wind and blows against the house. I take a deep breath and let the natural beauty soak into my soul. I could sit there forever.
The banging of doors and the sound of voices breaks the silence and I have to turn away from the window to greet the family. I look over my shoulder, towards the snow, as if to say “goodbye” - as I know the busyness of family and friends will soon capture my attention and I’ll quickly forget the snow.
Several hours later I am sitting on the bed, the house is silent. I stare outside the window, but into darkness. I long for the peace and beauty of this morning… but all I can see is my reflection in the glass. I sigh and reassure myself that tomorrow the snow will still be there – He will still be there.
I lay on my bed and ask myself, “If God is so easy to access by looking out the window, if God can be found in the simple beauty of nature, where does Jesus fit in? Why does Jesus say he is ‘the way, the truth, and the life’ if I can see God clearly just by looking outside?”
The simplicity of the answer shocked me as I heard, “Because it doesn’t last.”
The peace, the silence, the beauty – it disappears as you turn away from the window. Try as I might, I can’t keep it within me. No matter how long I sit and stare and try to memorize the snow – its beauty and peace and stillness escape my mind’s attempts to define and hold it.
What about all those moments in life when you don’t have access to a window?
Besides, since when did staring out the window help me love my husband? Or empower me to forgive? When I’m staring out the window – the world is all about me. I’ve heard the thoughts in my head – I’ll tell Him, “It’s just you and me now.” I don’t have to love a single person. The beauty, the stillness, the peace, is unchanged by the condition of my heart.
If anything, Jesus turned my head that night. Stop looking for Me outside, and look inside. Is peace, stillness and beauty there? Look for Me here.
I can see Him so clearly out there. In the peace – the way the snow falls gently to the ground. In the tree branches, I can see Him move. His voice travels with the wind and blows against the house. I take a deep breath and let the natural beauty soak into my soul. I could sit there forever.
The banging of doors and the sound of voices breaks the silence and I have to turn away from the window to greet the family. I look over my shoulder, towards the snow, as if to say “goodbye” - as I know the busyness of family and friends will soon capture my attention and I’ll quickly forget the snow.
Several hours later I am sitting on the bed, the house is silent. I stare outside the window, but into darkness. I long for the peace and beauty of this morning… but all I can see is my reflection in the glass. I sigh and reassure myself that tomorrow the snow will still be there – He will still be there.
I lay on my bed and ask myself, “If God is so easy to access by looking out the window, if God can be found in the simple beauty of nature, where does Jesus fit in? Why does Jesus say he is ‘the way, the truth, and the life’ if I can see God clearly just by looking outside?”
The simplicity of the answer shocked me as I heard, “Because it doesn’t last.”
The peace, the silence, the beauty – it disappears as you turn away from the window. Try as I might, I can’t keep it within me. No matter how long I sit and stare and try to memorize the snow – its beauty and peace and stillness escape my mind’s attempts to define and hold it.
What about all those moments in life when you don’t have access to a window?
Besides, since when did staring out the window help me love my husband? Or empower me to forgive? When I’m staring out the window – the world is all about me. I’ve heard the thoughts in my head – I’ll tell Him, “It’s just you and me now.” I don’t have to love a single person. The beauty, the stillness, the peace, is unchanged by the condition of my heart.
If anything, Jesus turned my head that night. Stop looking for Me outside, and look inside. Is peace, stillness and beauty there? Look for Me here.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
How much water do you use?
A new website with a H2O calculator helps you figure out how much water you actually use. I use way more than I like to admit. What can I say - I LOVE long, hot showers :)
H2O Conserve
H2O Conserve
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Second time champ
I finally found something I can beat him at! Disneyland Buzz Lightyear ride. Mosaic Staff Christmas Party December 21, 2007.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Movie Support
Last weekend a small group of us went to see the movie The Golden Compass. We haven't heard too much about it here in the SF area - except in reference to it's graphics or sci-fi/fantasy genre (which many, many SF people are seriously into). However, when I called a few friends back in Kansas, they mentioned a lot of controversy around the film - and some even questioned my "support" of a film such as this. To be clear, I am not bothered at all by these questions. I find skepticism and questioning to be healthy and even enjoyable. So I respond in this post not out of a need to defend myself - but out of a playful desire to engage in even more meaningful dialogue.
I liked the movie. In fact, the themes it introduced I find extremely important and worth fighting for. Themes such as freedom - the right to think and live. Themes such as souls - what shapes them, when are they shaped, what do they look like? Themes such as good and evil - is it the means or the ends that defines which side you are on?
I am proud to "support" our freedom to think and even to disagree. The minute we stop "supporting" those who disagree with us is the moment we kill the very thing we are trying to protect - life.
I support humanity. I support freedom. I support thinking. And if it leads to conclusions I don't like - I'll be patient - and hear the other human being out. Will you?
I liked the movie. In fact, the themes it introduced I find extremely important and worth fighting for. Themes such as freedom - the right to think and live. Themes such as souls - what shapes them, when are they shaped, what do they look like? Themes such as good and evil - is it the means or the ends that defines which side you are on?
I am proud to "support" our freedom to think and even to disagree. The minute we stop "supporting" those who disagree with us is the moment we kill the very thing we are trying to protect - life.
I support humanity. I support freedom. I support thinking. And if it leads to conclusions I don't like - I'll be patient - and hear the other human being out. Will you?
Monday, December 03, 2007
Ouch
My office has lunchtime yoga twice a week on Mondays and Fridays. Today was my first attempt to join a few fellow co-workers. All I can say is "ouch". One thing I love about yoga is that it is a completely different experience every time you do it. It is as varied as the instructors that teach it. Fifty plus (aged) women and men were doing stretches I could barely get into to. I am just glad I can still walk.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Best Friend
Throughout high school and college, I refused to use the words, "best friend." I refused to choose one person, among so many, to hold this place. It felt confining, limiting, and suffocating - to have to label one person this way when my life was surrounded by so many amazing, selfless, loving people. Even at my wedding, there was no single "maid of honor". In fact, the program listed every single woman as a Maid of Honor. My sisters, my roommates... I lived in a world filled with best friends.
The beauty of it came from its flexibility - like ocean waves at the beach - different people rolled in and out at different times. A once distant friend would became a close ally; but as time changes, they might fade or roll back for awhile.
Refusing to use a label gave us all a sort of freedom. Freedom to withdraw and return. Freedom to change. Freedom to grow in different ways - sometimes to grow apart and sometimes to grow incredibly close.
And then we moved to Los Angeles… and I found myself in a relational desolate place. I went in – idealistic and hopeful. I came out – bruised and skeptical.
This post isn’t going to be a sad recap of the hardships I faced… or an opportunity to feel sorry for myself – as tempted as I might be. Instead it’s about finding hope and friends in the places I least expected, or the places I previously didn’t consider. Friendships in Los Angeles took tremendous determination and initiation. Sometimes these efforts produced beautiful friendships but sometimes they ended in heartbreak and emptiness.
There is one friendship, however, that stands above them all. There were times I was mean and fiercely independent. There were times I was at peace and able to laugh. Through them all he never gave up on me. Though I may have shifted like the tide of the sea, his friendship and loyalty never faltered. He is consistent and calm – though we never could have imagined the hardships we faced.
He won’t tell me what to do – though sometimes I try to get him to tell me all the answers. He jokes when I am trying to be serious. He waits outside the bedroom door when I won’t let him in. He makes time to do house chores even when we are both busy.
But most importantly, he wouldn’t let me push him away, try as I might.
And so a new type of freedom emerges behind the label of “best friend”. A freedom I had not known before. A friend that loves at all times. A friend that loves in the midst of the uncertainty and the unknown. A friend that is willing to forgive again and again when I let him down.
If I hadn’t faced the relational desolate Los Angeles – I might not have been able to cherish his friendship as deep. And although I sometimes wonder if he’s the ONLY friend I have… He is the one that matters most. He is my home. He is my best friend.
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