The Breathing Room

Wanderlusting Launch!

2011-07-12T04:43:00.000-07:00

Behold! The launch of our new travel site: www.wanderlusting.info

It is still in its infancy, but check it out, subscribe, and let us know what you think! Anything travel-related will be appearing on Wanderlusting in lieu of The Breathing Room, but I'll update this on occasion with thoughts and musings!

Do let us know what you think. :)

Hospitality Exchange Overview

2011-05-16T05:44:00.000-07:00

One of the first discoveries that drove me to hit the road was that of hospitality exchanges. Essentially, these are online directories of generous people all around the world that are willing to open their doors and host you in their own home. It almost sounds too good to be true! Sometimes you will be sleeping on the floor, other times you’ll have room to yourself, but it’s free, and it is your ticket to experiencing the culture you are visiting in a more intimate way. In London, my host took me on an informal Jack the Ripper tour. In San Francisco, my host Kathleen took me hiking out to a beautiful lighthouse called Point Reyes that I would have otherwise missed. When in Seattle I hosted two sisters from Vienna and one woman from Paris, and we had a beautiful day at the beach playing guitar and ukulele, and ending the evening with a meal they cooked for me.

It is natural that people get excited about staying for free around the world, but the true emphasis in these communities is that of cultural exchange. Your hosts are bringing you into their lives, friendships, and sometimes even their families! Oftentimes they will serve as invaluable resources about their own city, culture, and language. If you decide to utilize these wonderful sites, please ensure that you are joining for the purpose of enriching your travel experience through local perspectives. While it is not necessary or expected, it is kind to make or buy dinner for your host, or perhaps buy a drink for them at a pub as a 'thank you.'

It is an added and wonderful perk that hospitality exchanges mean 'free accommodation,' but the more focus you place on the monetary savings these sites bring you, the less likely you are to fit well in these communities. I have met some of my dearest friends by hosting travelers and staying with locals this way, and it is because of this that I continue to do so. As a host, it gave me the excitement of meeting new and foreign people while I wasn’t able to travel myself.

-OVERVIEW of YOUR OPTIONS-

The most popular site by far is Couchsurfing though there are several other options available as well. Couchsurfing has the most aesthetically-appealing layout, the most safety features, the largest number of members (currently sitting at over 2 million), and is very user-friendly.

The second most popular option is Hospitality Club. This predates Couchsurfing and is a very welcoming community. It is a bit less attractive to the eyes, but is still a good option to use in many situations.

A few more sites with matching ideologies but smaller communities and (for whatever reason) a bit less of a following are: Stay4Free, Global Freeloaders, and Tripping.
All of the above-mentioned sites are free to join, though a few have optional ‘donation’ amounts.

-SAFETY-

When people first hear of these communities, they either rave about how wonderful the idea is, or shake their heads and say ‘it’s not for me.’ Whichever side of that coin you are on, we encourage you to read on. Upon first hearing of these sites, I was skeptical and found it all a bit dodgy. Wasn’t it foolish and dangerous?

The answer is no.

Like anything else in life, risks are involved. The same is true of driving to work every day, and if you plan to travel, there will always be something that can go wrong. The key is to utilize the safety features on these sites, and to send your requests to the right individuals.

As a woman, I often hosted travelers while living alone and also stayed in many homes through hospitality exchanges while on my own. When I was traveling solo, often using Couchsurfing, I would only send requests to families, couples, or females. In addition, I would only request to stay with those that had ample references. I can guarantee that most men on these sites are genuinely good people, but why add risk that isn’t necessary?

By following these safety steps, your personal welfare will be greatly enhanced:

1. If you are a woman alone, do not send requests to single men or groups of men living together, unless their references are ample enough to give you confidence in their character.

2. Read references carefully. Are most of their references from hosting or traveling, or just from people they met at gatherings?

3. Follow your instincts. If you meet them and feel uneasy, or if you feel uncomfortable in their home, find a way to leave the situation immediately. It’s always better to spend money on a hotel or hostel than to put your safety at risk.

4. Do your homework. Read their profile so you know what to expect, and send messages to people that left them references if you have any doubts. This is fairly common. Make sure to have a phone with you at all times in case of emergencies, and always have a back-up plan in case a host doesn’t feel safe or in case they have to cancel on you for some reason.

-ETIQUETTE-

Your success in these hospitality exchanges will depend mostly on one thing – your etiquette.

If you join Couchsurfing, for instance, there is a certain way to go about sending requests that will greatly increase your odds of getting hosted, especially in major cities where hosts are flooded daily with requests.

First and foremost, fill out your profile. When you are starting out with no references, this is imperative. Why would someone allow you into their home with no information about you whatsoever? Put yourself in their shoes. When I first began using hospitality exchanges, I filled out my profile extensively, with even more details than I thought necessary. Almost no host I have ever met will host you if you have not uploaded a current photo as well.

Read profiles carefully before sending a request. What type of person are you, and how will you mesh with their lifestyle? It’s all common sense – but you miss the details if you skip reading profiles. If you are conservative in beliefs and actions, avoid those that mention alcohol, drugs or partying. By the same token, if you are a party animal you should avoid requesting people that have an early work schedule or conflicting beliefs. If you smoke, yet you see in the profile that ‘no smokers may stay here,’ then do not request to stay with them!

Do NOT send the same request copied and pasted to several hosts. This will not only prove you have no interest in who you stay with, but also that you aren’t considerate of hosts that will accept you and clear your schedule. What if more than one responds? As a host, it was frustrating to receive a request, approve it, then arrange my schedule accordingly… only to find my guest was already taken care of!

Once you have selected a host, send a request that is personalized, lengthy, and descriptive of who you are and why you want to meet them. A good length is usually 3-4 paragraphs, though everyone has their own style. I spend the first paragraph introducing myself, why I am traveling to their area, and what inspired me to take my trip. The second, I usually mention what stood out to me in their profile and reasons I think we would be a great fit. This could be similar musical or political interests, countries they have visited that you would like to visit, or anything you feel you would have in common to talk about or enjoy. In the third paragraph, I let them know that as a ‘thank you,’ I would be happy to cook a meal for them or treat them to a drink at a pub. I also usually say something along these lines: ‘Even if you aren’t able to host me, I would still really enjoy meeting you to have you show me around your favorite parts of town if you have the time.’ This is just a breakdown of the method I tend to use; be sure that if you use this format you are honest and do not just add things about yourself to increase your odds. Honesty and a genuine interest in meeting them will go far.

-Tips and Tricks-
-Try not to request the busiest hosts, or the ones that come up at the top of the queue with 300 references! These hosts are often busier and your chances of getting hosted are slim. Try for hosts that seem eager to host but haven’t had as much experience.

-I can’t say this enough – have a completed profile!

-Avoid asking hosts or people you meet to ‘vouch’ for you, or ‘trust’ you. The vouching system works only because you may only vouch for people you have met and trust beyond the shadow of a doubt. Asking puts people in an uncomfortable position. Requesting references however, is something else altogether, though I still wouldn’t necessarily go around asking for them. Some people will reference you, and some will not; some people are more diligent at leaving references than others.

-To get started with references, join local groups and attend meetups. Remember though to only reference them if you felt you spend sufficient time with them. Couchsurfing has the best ‘Group’ tool of any of these sites. You simply go to the ‘Community’ tab, and search for whatever city you are heading. Most larger cities like London, Paris, and Dublin have weekly meetups that are fabulous.

-If someone hosts you, promptly leave them a reference. Don’t wait months! They took time out of their busy life to have you in their home, so pay them their respect!

-Have fun. These communities have changed my life. I wouldn’t be traveling as happily without them. They broaden your horizons and open up local perspectives!

on Wanderlusting

2011-05-14T05:56:00.000-07:00

There are many of you who have followed my blog over the last few years, and I am so thankful! It has been my pleasure to follow some of yours as well. I have some exciting news and changes to share with you. The Breathing Room has been the online home of my thoughts since several years ago, and I’ve been feeling lately the need to change this home to something more relevant and current to what my life holds in it now.

When Kurt and I decided to go all in and travel a few months ago, we had the seeds of an idea that could be something great and wonderful, and it is now on the verge of being realized! I receive questions and comments frequently about how people wish they could travel like we do, to stay with locals, to find cheap airline fares, to work for room and board, and embark on long-term travel adventures of their own. The problem is that as humans we get caught up in the ‘if only’ trap. If only I had more money, if only I could get the time off work, if only it were possible for me. It’s endless really – and if we continue to put our dreams on hold, we may never realize them at all.

I myself was trapped in that mindset for a few years; wanting to see the world but waiting for the opportune time. I was dangerously close to settling for what was comfortable instead of taking the initial leap of faith and just DOING it! In a matter of three months I have taken control and transformed what was a mundane, normal existence into something I’m proud to call my life! Now I am living my dream – helping to run a hostel in an Irish village where I hear Gaelic spoken daily and am a moment’s walk from the sea.

It took me years of researching how to attempt long-term travel. I found countless websites and blogs, all with tidbits of helpful information, but none containing everything I needed to get started. That is when the ‘seed’ for our idea began.

I am pleased to announce that soon our travel site called Wanderlusting will be launched! Beyond just featuring blogs from Kurt and me, it will also have many different elements to help others get started on their own travel adventure. It will cover the gamut – working for room and board, sleeping in local homes, safety while hitchhiking or ridesharing, how to obtain your visas, and most of all how to get this whole process started for YOU. Eventually, I also plan to offer my cheap-flight-finding prowess for a nominal fee (maybe 30-50 USD), to get you that much-needed ticket abroad.

I will continue to post here on The Breathing Room until the launch, and will keep you up to date on when that launch will be.

Thanks for reading – I’m excited to see you on Wanderlusting.

on existing in London

2011-04-03T02:21:00.000-07:00

Existing in London this past week has brought this recurring, refreshing feeling.

My first thought upon waking is always of where I am (England), how I got here (The Picadilly Line or a double-decker red bus), with whom I am staying (lovely people), and whether or not I am excited to be awake (yes). I can't help but be overwhelmed by the sense that this is The Beginning; that everything about my life and the way that I live it is in the midst of a great change. I can almost feel the paradigms shifting around in my brain. This is the life! I am finally on the road! Living off of hummus, cheese, bread, and vegetables has never felt so rich and filling.

I've been reading more from one of my favorite nomadic authors, who continually inspires me. "I was excited when I realized I didn’t have to do it the way they thought I should. I could design my own life, one that fit my dreams. There is more than one way to do life and I was going to discover one that worked for me." (Rita Golden Gelman) I like her very much, and that fact seems so lost on so many people. Life can be however you want to be; the world's prescribed plan for success and happiness is not 'one size fits all.' It was never meant to be so. True, there is a marked pathway to achieve a secure, normal life, and that in itself makes many people incredibly happy, which is wonderful. I am content to realize, now, that if I choose a different pathway, it makes me no less of a success or a failure.

Yes, I am in The Beginning of this era of wandering, and I enjoy it immensely.

Of course, I must take into account the realism of it all so it won't catch me by surprise later: I am essentially homeless in a foreign land, the days will not always be easy ones, I miss my family and friends, and everything I carry with me weighs less than 20 pounds (I weighed it this morning). I am under no illusion that this will be a perfect journey. Things will not always go smoothly, and I'm sure upon my first illness I will wish I was on my mother's couch at home.

What is close to perfection, however, is waking up in London, wandering neighborhoods I fall in love with, meeting great-hearted people, and being at the very beginning of a long and beautiful road.

I do so like beginnings.

Seattle to New York

2011-03-21T23:15:00.001-07:00

The First Month on the Road
March 2011

I never used to be impressed when I looked at a map of the United States. It was just home. This was, of course, prior to my vehicular adventure across the breadth of the nation during the worst blizzard of the year. Let's just say my appreciation for America's sheer immensity has changed. I have also learned that nothing stretches out a road trip quite like having a hysterical cat in a carrier for the first time, meowing his opinion to you the entire way.

Kurt and I set out from Seattle and headed east toward Idaho, where we spent a few days reminiscing with close friends and family and arranging our ducks in a nice, neat row. There is nothing in life as refreshing to me as familiar company after time apart. I relished in the moments we spent catching up with one another at The Garden Lounge, wishing more faces had shown up, but at the same time thankful for the small nature of the group.

Bozeman, Montana was next. Feet upon feet of snow covered Lookout Pass on either side of the road, and I clutched the steering wheel with white knuckles until we finally pulled into town at 11:30pm. Our host in Bozeman was Kate, a lovely woman in her 50's who was gracious enough to make us feel right at home. We discussed the fascism of Palin, the beauty of intercultural exchange, and explored the local Coop's selection of delicious hummus. Though far from a major city, Bozeman struck me as more alive than most places I have ever lived. It felt young, fresh, and awake. The streets were buzzing with activity long after I expected, and local shops beckoned with their unique facades and interesting window displays. I was given a lesson by Kate on making bread, and she generously sent us on our way with one loaf and homeade rasberry jam.

Following Montana we made an ambitious attempt to arrive in Sioux Falls, South Dakota the next evening. When setting out on our twelve hour drive it seemed plausible, though we realized in mid-Wyoming our critical error. Winter in the American Midwest will now and forever be likened in my mind to Siberia. Though my knowledge of Siberia is severely uninformed, I imagine (with my severely uninformed mind) that I am right on the money. Wind chill taken into consideration, it was -10 degrees (F) most of the way, and froze our antifreeze windshield fluid, speaking for itself. Wipers malfunctioned, ice built up so badly that it scraped the tires if we turned, the powdery snow would turn into a whiteout without warning, and we were the slowest car on the road by about 25 miles per hour. Once deciding to find a hotel room once we reached Gillette, Wyoming, sixty miles down the road, it maddeningly took us more than two hours to arrive.

A day behind schedule, we arrived in Sioux Falls at our host Pam's house. She educated us about where our blood goes once we donate it, and treated our weary tummies to some delightful eggs and toast the morning. We arrived in Iowa City on Fat Tuesday, staying up late with our hosts MaryAlice and Diego sharing videos, microbrews, and great conversation.

The entirety of our stay in Madison, Wisonsin simply cannot be covered here, as we protested with 200,000 people against the stripping away of union rights under the guise of budget cuts. I learned more about democracy and injustice in those few days than I planned. Our hosts Ralph and Alma were perfectly happy to come down the Capitol, fill us in on Lithuanian beer and Wisconsin cheese, as well as the illegal actions of the Republicans in the state. Though FOX News would have the public believe otherwise, there was hardly a soul in favor of Governor Walker. I knew the network was biased to an extreme, though now I know beyond a doubt that they blatantly, intentionally lie. There was not a scratch on the Capitol - no $7.5 million in damages, no violence, no vandalism. The protesters and security stood chatting and debating, while those wanting inside the Capitol waited in a calm, respectful line. There existed no protestors who "weren't leaving peacefully." Very sad, indeed.

We were met in Cleveland by Liz, whose groovy abode and great attitude enchanted me immedietely. As with all our hosts, it seems, our time with her was too short. She took us to a dive bar where a sign told us 'Please do not feed the crackheads.' Before departing the next day for New York, we stopped in at a local diner and I caught my first glimpse at the Great Lakes.

Just when I thought we were home free and almost to Long Island, I experienced Kurt driving us on the Cross Bronx through Manhattan. Suffice it to say that I wasn't sure we would make it. We did, however! I caught a sideways glimpse at the Empire State Building before deciding that looking forward was better than imagining certain death. Walking into Kurt's family home and dropping our bags felt fabulous.

Things I have learned:
-I hate toll roads/bridges/booths
-Do not travel with a cat
-If you must travel with a cat, get a muzzle
-Wyoming is intensely empty
-Gas prices are horrible
-Ohio really shouldn't charge so much to drive on their roads
-EZ Pass toll lanes on the Throg's Neck bridge are going to ticket us
-I like Cleveland
-Couchsurfing remains my favorite social networking tool

Tomorrow, LONDON!

on going, going, going.... introspective!

2011-02-23T01:10:00.000-08:00

You have heard it before. It's time to go; I am off once again.

Each time I enter a new phase in life, I tend to look back and write about nostalgia filling my soul, and memories fresh in my heart. I tend to dwell on what I leave behind and less on the path before me. I say my goodbyes. I give my thanks. I tip my hat to those who inspired and changed me. I usually deem it necessary to write an epitaph, if you will, of the era of my life coming to a close. Seemingly yesterday I left Moscow for Seattle; already this season has reached its end. The months fly by, whether we wish them away or not. Next week, I am off to New York. Next month, I am off to Europe. Tonight, however, I am in awe of what this year has taught me, and what each year continues to unfold within me.

I've wondered what purpose memories serve, and why they have the ability to move us so deeply. Why is it that something as simple as a song or a face can bring you back to a place you hadn't thought of in months? What is it within us that reaches out for years gone by? Nostalgia upsets me at times. What right has it to make me discontent with the present? Why does it pull at the strings of my heart? Who gave it that authority? The mind boggles, really. My mind does, at least.

Upon Nostalgia's arrival every so often, I physically ache for the past. I long for people I am missing, people with whom I have disconnected or lost touch, or entire seasons of life that are no more. Some of my greatest friendships have passed. Most of the people I've met since childhood have no bearing on who I am today. Despite the wonders of modern technology and the advent of social networking, I remain suprisingly distant from the majority of those I've encountered on my journey thusfar, at least beyond the superficial layers.

This whole arrangement strikes me as odd, really. We invest ourselves in one another, whether in relationships, intimacies, or friendships, while knowing someplace in the back of our minds that parting ways is inevitable. As dark as this sounds, what purpose does it all serve then? One definition of 'stupidity' is doing the same thing again and again, expecting a different outcome. Are we inherently stupid, or is there a reason beneath the obvious?

I think the answer - for me, at least - is this: My most prominent memories are often those where I showed my true character, rose high above, found success in lieu of defeat, and been the greatest possible version of myself. My greatest friends in life have answered my midnight calls, laughed with me in the beautiful times, held me when dreams shattered, and challenged me in the meantimes. Whether or not they are near now makes no difference - they mattered. I think perhaps memories and nostalgia exist not to give us sadness, or longing for what is gone. I think they are there to remind us that life consists of seasons. Some seasons will inspire us immensely; some will be uphill climbs. All are essential to shaping us.

Maybe moments and people resurface in our minds to bring us to a more full understanding of the here and now. Maybe we lose life's lessons if we take them out of context. No moment stands alone. Like dominoes falling one after another, the beginning ultimately begets the end result. Even if it's difficult to connect the dots, life makes those connections on its own.

It has been some time since I have written with the microscope facing my heart instead of politics, my travel plans, or any number of superficial things. That being the case, it took me three hours to get this blasted thought process from my brain and into black and white. Apologies for any nonsense, inconclusions, or improper grammar. I did my best, really, I did. All of this was to say - I am thankful to this season. I am thankful to last season. I am especially thankful for the season that awaits me... a one-way ticket across an ocean with plenty of lessons and inspirations on the other side.

In any case... onward!

Our Diabolical Plan. Mission: Earth.

2011-02-07T20:02:00.001-08:00

The die has been cast, my friends!

Notice has been given to our landlord, passports are ready, temporary jobs have been found til March, tax returns are in our bank accounts, cheap tickets have been found, and all wheels are set in motion for what is bound to be a life-changing adventure. It begins next month, when we will road trip across the states to see Kurt's family in New York. From there we will depart into the great, mysterious, unexplored realms of - you guessed it - Europe! We will boldly go into this uncharted territory, and put into motion (starts 'Jaws' theme) 'Kurt and Dayna's Diabolical Plan.' We are quitting our habit of cigarettes using Quit for Life over the next few weeks, eliminating that expense and health risk as well.

We want to start in Europe, working our way across the continent in an easterly direction toward Greece and ultimately Turkey. A flight to Southeast Asia may be in order from there, depending on many factors including who we meet along the way. We plan on a low-maintenence, no-frills experience on a mission to enrich our lives meeting as many beautiful people as possible, soaking in the local cultures and languages as we go. We will use Couchsurfing while in the cities, working on organic farms and homestays for room and board in the countryside along our way. We plan on visiting many of you that have graced our couches and lives over the last year and a half, and are so excited to see you again.

With Kurt's site-building expertise, we will soon have an amazing and aesthetically-pleasing travel weblog up and running, including photos and videos of our travels, stories from the road, photos of our hosts and host families and a map that shows where we have been and are planning to go. You can subscribe to the feed, comment using your Facebook account, see our beaming faces, or donate as little as $1 at a time to buy us our daily cup of joe if you so desire. Expect titles of my blogs to be interesting things you will enjoy and laugh at, like: 'Learning to Milk a Cow in Croatia,' 'Hooping in Hungary,' or 'Failing to Speak a Local Language While in Search of a Bathroom.'

We are excited. Stay tuned for more updates and ways we can keep you involved!
Much love.
Dayna and Kurt

ALSO, apparently diabolical means evil or relating to the devil. I thought it meant spectacularly clever. Apparently I was misinformed. This should read 'Our Spectacularly Clever and In No Way Related to Evil Plan'. Just throwing that out there.

on 2011

2011-01-12T01:04:00.001-08:00

That time of year has rolled around yet again for me to make a conscious effort to dwell on the coming twelve months. Though I am seven days late, I am sure it is better to write this late than not at all! Aspirations, goals, and hopes for my life in 2011 (in no order whatsoever):

Begin to connect all the things the past few years has taught me and put them into action.

I have learned that when I teach myself a new skill, I essentially become smarter, as my brain grows new neural pathways. I want to do my best to learn new skills, even if others think they are silly, like poi and hoop dance.

Stop smoking... self explanatory!

Write some damn good music and enjoy every minute of it! Preferably one song per month minimum.

Grow a bit closer to my own spirit, peer inwards a little more often, and consiously praise all the great qualities I have.

Live on an organic farm and learn how to homestead; get my hands dirty. If I get grossed out, I will tell myself that I will thank myself after peak oil hits! Learn to make cheese, soap, wine, or whatever else strikes my fancy (like planting kale that doesn't die).

Take the plunge: sell what I can, buy a one way ticket, and start living out my dreams one country (and ridiculous visa fee) at a time. When money runs low - busk with guitar or ukelele... or fire hooping. Which brings me to:

Fire hooping!! Shortly therafter start spinning fire with my poi.

Continue the trend I started this year of reading as often as possible!

Meet and encourage as many people as possible, whether on the 358 bus headed toward downtown Seattle or the person in line next to me.

Soak in the great and epic moments and friendships, and be present when they are happening.

Happy New Year of 2011 to all, I love you.

on spinning the other direction

2010-10-15T12:25:00.000-07:00

Today I tried something a bit different... for me, anyway.

I woke up to the most beautiful, mystical morning. The air felt crisp and smelled of autumn and the sky was clear. I stuck my head out the window like a little kid, excited to see if it would be nice enough for me to hoopdance outside on my day off of work. It was. I was elated.

I have been having a bit of trouble with my lower back, just aches and dull pain since I began to hoopdance two months ago. I decided it was my lack of stretching, so I began to stretch before, during and after my hoop sessions. This failed to solve the problem, so I went to the online community of hoopers to ask for help. It turned out that what I really needed was fairly simple. To spin the hoop the other way.

This will mean absolutely nothing to most people (which is understandable), but everyone who dances with a hoop has a favored direction, their 'hoop direction.' I hoop to the right. What my back needed was for me to hoop to the left sometimes. Caroleeena, an esteemed hoopdance teacher, put it this way:

"Hooping in both directions not only develops both sides of your abdominals (and who wants a three pack, am I right?) and both sides of your back muscles, it supports your spine, increases your balance, helps you find your Center, allows you to move freely in all directions and to learn new movements faster as it re-wires the neural pathways in your brain, effectively making you smarter. It enhances your ability to do every pattern-related thing in your life, including but not limited to music, dancing, drumming, mathematics, planning and organizing."

So I picked up my hoop and spun it to the left.

At first it was awkward, uncomfortable, and difficult. I felt taken back to my first day hooping, when I spent an entire day locked in my room, bound and determined to be a part of this 'hooping thing.' Every step was filled with flailing arms, falling hoops and broken wall decor. I was dripping in sweat, exhausted, but I told myself that I wouldn't take 'no I can't do this' for an answer.

By the end of two or three songs, I could literally feel my back muscles thanking me for finally figuring it out. It felt almost refreshing. Suddenly I didn't have to worry about dropping anymore, and my muscles got comfortable doing something new and weird. I did it! I changed my direction! Shortly thereafter I ran out into the patch of sunshine in my yard and attacked the practice with my mini hoops that had me so discouraged yesterday.

I was inspired by today. I was inspired by myself, by my perseverance in doing what feels impossible right now, but will yield unbelievable results down the road.

Dear Me-Next-Time-You-Even-Think-About-Quitting:

Always seize the opportunity to try something a different, something a little uncomfortable. Put yourself out there and decide that you will get it down. Maybe not today, and maybe not this week. But you will. You can always lean on the many things you already know as encouragement to keep going. Besides, you thought you would never be able to hoop at the shoulders or do the vortex, and now you rock them. Love, Me

on hooping, day 45

2010-09-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

I have nailed it!

No, I am not talking about hooping in the general sense. More importantly, I have reached the point in my hooping where it feels meditative, beautiful, personal and calming. I feel refreshed when I hoop. I am comfortable enough now that I don't have to pay attention always, and I can use it as a way to wind down and be with myself. Even after a twelve hour shift waiting tables and walking all day, nothing settles my senses and spirit like hooping.

I have to say: I started hooping to do beautiful things with a hoop, not necessarily to make my body more beautiful. But HOLY COW. Now I understand why people passionate about sports have so much fun while doing them, it just never really applied to me or my spirit. I left sports the very moment it started to matter whether we won or lost, I just don't have the competition appetite.

Weight isn't of huge important to me, whether in myself or others. But feeling wonderful and having the energy and health to love life matters. I started hooping to hoop. That being said, I fit in a pair of jeans I haven't worn in over a year because they felt too tight. Not only that, but they are pretty baggy. Epic win.

Benefits of hooping go far beyond the ability to do some mind-boggling tricks and dances.

It is empowering in so many ways. I have stamina. I can see muscles I didn't know existed. I have confidence. I have a skill I wasn't capable of before. I am learning what it's like to get to know yourself, spend time with your own spirit and be happy with who you find at the end of the day... really happy. There is also the added benefit of the huge community of encouraging hoopers, experienced and novice alike to inspire you on your journey. Not only that, but people get excited with you when you inspire them in return.

When I explain hooping to others, they do not usually understand. When I show hooping to others, they must get a hoop of their own. It is that simple and it is that addicting.

I never thought spinning and dancing with irrigation tubing would be so enlightening, empowering and free.

Thank you to my body! Thank you to my hoop!

-----
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should visit:
http://www.hooping.org/

on the first amendment and liberty

2010-08-31T13:07:00.000-07:00

Over two hundred years ago in December of 1791 the first amendment was born.

Most citizens of the United States know this, but most of us forget how essential and influential this date is in our stories and our lives. This is our liberty. Because of this date, we are free to worship or not worship. Because of this date, I was able to grow up in a loving home that was involved in a local church family. Because of this date, we have the security and freedom to worship whatever or whomever we please. We are who we are and have lived our lives according to this simple premise:

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

These words are part of each of our stories, whether we reflect on them often or not at all.

What example and legacy, then, are we setting for our children and our world when we hear the words ‘Ground Zero Mosque’ and vehemently oppose something that we know nothing about? To clear up confusion among those who may not have researched this issue or have only seen clips from the mainstream media, this is not a mosque, nor is it at Ground Zero. Clyde Haberman of the New York Times had a great comment about the significant difference:

“There's that "at." For a two-letter word, it packs quite a wallop. It has been tossed around in a manner both cavalier and disingenuous, with an intention by some to inflame passions. Nobody, regardless of political leanings, would tolerate a mosque at ground zero. "Near" is not the same, as anyone who paid attention back in the fourth grade should know.”

I have seen protesters. I have seen signs written in ignorance and hate. Things like, ‘this is NOT your country,’ and ‘to embrace Islam is to embrace terrorism.’

Do I think it’s the greatest idea to place an Islamic community center in that location? Not necessarily, and that is not my point (nor should it be yours, if I may say so in the most endearing and loving way possible). The point is this. This issue as it is should not even be up for debate. I planned on a lengthy explanation before realizing that unless people are simply daft, all I need to explain is the following:

The moment we can tell a religious group that they can’t build a community center on private property, our freedom is at stake; all of our collective liberties and things our forefathers fought and died for will be in vain.

Your freedom and mine will be forever changed.

If we are to be true patriots, we are to behave as Jefferson said we must and defend and uphold the Constitution. He did not say that we ‘should.’ He said that we must.

Some of the signs of protesters I have seen say things like ‘Build Christian Churches in the Middle East.’ If we are to be the United States of America, a nation that has center stage in the global theater, then we must act accordingly. I vaguely recall something called The Golden Rule, something about ‘doing unto others’… but that must not apply to this particular situation.

I also wanted to somehow incorporate that we have massacred over one million Islamic people for their oil and as punishment for the actions of 9/11. I just couldn’t find a way include it nicely, because it is what it is; the antithesis of nice. Is that not enough ‘justice’ for some? If not, what will be?

Just give me liberty, okay?

While you’re at it, give it to my fellow countrymen who choose a different faith.

I digress.

“They who would give up an essential liberty for temporary security, deserve neither liberty nor security.” –Benjamin Franklin.

“Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

on making differences

2010-07-17T15:57:00.001-07:00

When we entitled and blessed ones finally meet the Needy, I hope there are no more big screens or sweatshops. I hope we learn to think.

When Love wins, I hope there is no 'us' and 'them' anymore, just people who need one another, who need community.

I hope we learn to love more than just our money and our shopping malls. I hope 'success' is not equated with 'excess.'

I hope we find our conscience dictating what we buy and who and where it comes from.

Can we learn that nothing is every really 'thrown away?' Can we learn to be responsible consumers in a world dictated by mass production?

I hope we learn endless love and compassion for those outside ourselves... and I hope it makes a difference.

Things you and I can do today to be more awesome:

-Read the tags on the clothes and shoes you buy. If it's made outside of the U.S. or doesn't have a Fair Trade label, don't take the chance it was made by someone compensated unfairly.

-Visit a thrift store instead of a mall.

-Shop local, support local farmers.

-Buy coffee that is grown fairly and sustainably... Starbucks is actually making incredible strides to better their corporation and make a difference.

-Plant your own vegetables and watch them grow.

-Recycle. It seems trivial, but it adds up.

-Walk around your neighborhood (or even just outside on your own street) and pick up garbage.

-Find friends and come up with $25 to fund a microfinance loan and change a woman's life in the developing world. Watch their progress as they pay it back and make a difference locally.
http://www.opportunity.org/Page.aspx?pid=193

-Ride a bike or take the bus. Turn off lights. Hang your clothes to dry. Start to care about energy and where it comes from.

-Get inspired by watching this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_6iTCo5Ci8

Take victories in the small differences we all make. Be proud of what you can do.

on seattle

2010-07-14T11:20:00.000-07:00

I love Seattle. I am falling in love with my life here.

I love our crazy, creaky, cobwebbed house filled with a myriad of ten interesting characters. I love that my front yard is like a rain forest with colors that are rich and dense. I even love the tacky, waist-high lawn ornament set of plastic penguins. They are more than slightly reminiscent of trailer trash, but all of the members in our household constantly move them to locations that are meant to stir up laughs in whoever sees them. Previous locations include the roof, up in a tree, in the front seat of someone's car, and in a hammock. This changes hourly. I love trying to explain our roommates to other people (Normal Steve, Pregnant Kendra, Adopted Woody, Crazy Don, Absent Terry, etc). I love most of my roommates and they have become friends.

I love my flower and vegetable garden. It took less than a day to turn the flower beds into something beautiful, earthy and fresh. I didn't wear gloves. I thought the naked earth would bother me, but I found everything interesting. Moving a rock and seeing what life is living under it; ripping up weeds and planting flowers with my bare hands.

I love driving home south on I-5 on a clear day to see Mount Rainier, majestic and sexy and alone on the horizon. This brings me to loving trees, and mountains, and saltwater scented air, and all of the above dancing with the skyscrapers and civilization. I love my job, and feeling appreciated, and getting paid for working hard.

I love neighborhoods that have character and individuality like Fremont, Capitol Hill, and Belltown. I love walking down Broadway and people-watching. I love Metsker's Maps in Pike Place. I love that in one month I can attend free art festivals, block parties, Iranian Film Festivals, a Pride Parade and dozens of Couchsurfing events. I love that we are in a place where we can open up our humble place to travelers and seekers. I love the sustainability and the mentality, the beautiful bohemians, the beats, the poets, the artists.

I love that I am 10 minutes from the beach at Golden Gardens, where we can build a fire and watch it grow; dip our toes in the waves and watch the sun fall behind the Olympic Mountains that are jagged, ancient, and real. This has been and will be my summer - inviting those wandering without a fire to come and join our own. Sharing music, stories, fire spinning and laughter with strangers that become part of our story.

I am starting to fall in love with my story again, and that is a good and lovely thing.

on moscow

2010-06-30T13:50:00.001-07:00

I would like to write an epic goodbye note to commemorate the era of my life in Moscow coming to an end. Unfortunately, as my fellow writers can attest, sometimes words don't come out the way they should. Sometimes they fail to come at all. I will write what I can.

I am leaving Moscow a completely different person than when I drove into town three years ago. I know not everyone in my life is proud of those changes, but I am proud of most of them. It was said to me once that my life since arriving here has been a train wreck. Maybe sometimes it has been. I think that is life though; some years will more closely resemble train wrecks than others. Some will be beautiful and move you to become more beautiful with them.

Time will not cease upon my leaving, and most lives without me here will continue much the same. My life itself, through the lives of those I met here and my experiences, has been forever changed. To my friends and acquaintences that were part of this era, the good and the devastating, I love you. Thank you for being a part of my story.

I have changed my worldview, met those that opened my mind and soul, I altered my spiritual way of thinking, had friendships and relationships with great-hearted people, and most importantly, I learned. I learned so much. I learned that every day becomes exactly what I made of it. I learned that I have the power to be creative or destructive, to be a blessing or a curse, and this power must be wielded carefully. I learned that I make a difference.

It is both lovely and shocking when we come to realize how much we make a difference. This is the most important lesson I learned in Moscow. Every conversation, every interaction, every attitude brought into a room, every word whispered behind the back of someone else, it all counts. It all matters. I learned that who you are isn't who you think you are, who you pretend to be, it is what you do. I am different since I learned this this. You are what you do. It's very simple though sometimes hard to process. If you constantly badmouth others, that is who you are. If you are out at bars every night, that is who you are. On the other hand if you work hard, postively influence and encourage others, and are genuine, that is who you are. I am trying to be more like that person. Sometimes I will fail.

It's interesting that the Tuareg nomads of Africa have only one tense in their language... the present. I think it would be beautiful to think that way. To live less in yesterday and make today a good day. I am still teaching my brain to work that way, but it started here. Thank you to those who taught me to be present in my own life. Thank you for changing my story.

I have many to thank as I pack my bags and start a new chapter of my life, though if I tried to list them I would fail miserably. I am listening to a song by Hector LaVoe, called 'Todo Tiene Su Final.' Everything must come to an end. That is true, but I think LaVoe missed something. More accurate lyrics would read 'though everything comes to an end, it often means the beginning of something brilliantly beautiful and new.'

Blessings to you, my Moscow friends and family. I hope your lives are beautiful and filled with promise. I hope you spend your days in the present tense. I hope you find and spread inspiration. I hope you find that every decision and action you make counts. I hope you love and live deeply.

Most of all, I hope our stories will entwine again someday.

Selah... let it be.

on being frustrated and peak oil

2010-04-07T22:55:00.001-07:00

I am frustrated. No, I am beyond frustrated.

I want to be an activist for the ideals I believe in. I want to spread knowledge like wildfire, avoid ignorance and complacency and be well-rounded and real. I want to be a 'Pro' person; I want to be defined by the things and ideas I believe in, and not the things I would necessarily be against.

Why is it that 'liberal' and 'conservative' have to be the terms with which we are defined? Why is it that if we belong to one that the other is perpetually wrong and has no redeeming qualities? I want to know what makes it so difficult for us to find common ground, when most people want the same things: good education, health care, the right to human dignity, racial and gender equality, and the right to make a living. Granted, a few select people have hatred or biases that are unfounded. But overall, the nonpartisan issues far outweigh the ones that we should be fighting about, and I am frustrated that no matter what I do, I am forced to appear somewhere on a political spectrum that I have no faith in.

There is a myriad of issues that affect all of us. Whether putting my energy and efforts toward these issues label me as a 'raging liberal' to some friends and family, or whether my moderate and inquisitive nature makes me seem like a 'right-wing nut' to others, I have to carry on and do what I think is right.

I can't stand listening to people that think in only black and white. Nothing is just black. Nothing is only white. Nothing is just left. Nothing is only right. If anything, we should think in a dazzling array of colors that cannot be defined and let the tints and hues speak for themselves and inspire us. I refuse to be padlocked into one-sided thinking, and I hope you refuse as well.

Dearest America, we are going to have some problems, and I am afraid for us. I am afraid for the liberal activists and the small-town conservatives; I am afraid for our children and their children; I am afraid for the misfits, the jocks, the business men and the farmers. I am afraid that we are so wrapped up in ourselves to step back and measure the weight of what this last century has brought us, both good and bad.

We are going to run out of cheap oil. This is not up for debate or dispute. It is the scientific conclusion of the best paid, most widely-respected geologists, physicists, bankers, and investors in the world. It does not matter who you voted for or what you call yourself, because within a decade we will not be able to afford to drive our cars to work. Everything we do is surrounded and influenced by petroleum. Yes, it powers our cars and has the potential to ruin our fragile habitat. But there is more.

As of 2002, about 10 calories of fossil fuels were required to produce every one calorie of food eaten in the U.S. Pesticides and agro-chemicals are made from oil; these are necessary because of the single crop farming that is practiced across the nation. Most farming tools - tractors, trailers, combines - are constructed and powered by oil-derived fuels. Our refrigerators are manufactured in plants powered by oil and run on electricity, which, not shockingly, also also comes from natural gas and coal.

The average piece of food that you eat in the United States is transported about 1,500 miles before it sits in front of you on your plate. In Canada, this is almost 5,000 miles. Not only is our transportation and agriculture created in dependence of cheap and plentiful oil. Our water distribution, national defense, electronics, all plastics, modern medicine, and almost all high-tech devices requre fossil fuels. I would also like to point out that almost every alternative energy source out there uses petrochemicals at some point in their construction.

What does all this really mean, for you and for me? It means that you shouldn't just be concerned about how much it will cost to fill up your gas tank in five years.

In 2006 in the Chicago Tribune, Pulitzer Prize winner Paul Salopek described Peak Oil consequences as "unimaginable. Permanent fuel shortages would tip the world into a generations-long economic depression. Millions would lose their jobs as industry implodes. Farm tractors would be idled for lack of fuel, triggering massive famines. Energy wars would flare. And careless suburbanites would trudge to their nearest big box stores, not to buy Chinese made clothing transported cheaply across the globe, but to scavenge glass and copper wire from abandoned buildings."

If saying all that makes me an unforgivable liberal, take into account the speech of Congressman Roscoe Bartlett, a Republican from Maryland. He spoke to the U.S. House of Representatives for an hour in 2005 about Peak Oil.

"Is there any reason to remain optimistic or hopeful? Let me go back to Matt Savinar, that not-too-optimistic journalist. "If what you mean is there any way technology or the market or brilliant scientists or comprehensive government programs are going to hold things together or solve this for me or allow for business to continue as usual, the answer is no. On the other hand, if what you really mean is is there any way that I still can have a happy, fulfilling life, in spite of some clearly grim facts, the answer is yes. But it is going to require a lot of work, a lot of adjustments, and probably a bit of good fortune on your part.'"

I am frustrated. What I am frustrated most with, however, is that many papers (such as the UK Guardian) have admitted to covering up the looming crisis for years in order to avoid widespread panic and keep the world's economy in check.

I am frustrated that my whole life will change in less than a decade, and no one is getting frustrated with me. We need to rise up, to inspire one another, to invest in the transition we will all be going through together. We need to employ the innovators, discover how to localize again, use the remaining oil to fuel the creation of the technology that will eventually bring us through to the other side, to a calmer and newer era of our lives. I have no doubt we will make it through. I just wish more of the global community was interested in using Peak Oil as a way to bring us together.

If you have, in fact, reached the end of what has become a novel, I want to encourage you. Do your own research, dig up your own facts, use sources from all sides of the political spectrum, read books, watch documentaries... get inspired. Get angry, but more importantly, get inspired.

Together let's start to think in colors and leave black and white behind us.

on pledging allegiance

2010-02-16T19:31:00.000-08:00

I pledge allegiance to the lifestyle of the United States of America:

to corporate bailouts on Wall Street while our Main Streets deteriorate;
to boarded-up family homes seized by bankruptcy and greed.
To the single percentile controlling 95% of our wealth,
to our monetary system being controlled by a privately-owned Federal Reserve,
and to paying income tax when there is no written law anywhere requiring me to do so.

I pledge that I will not question capitalism, its flawed nature,
and that I will remain willingly blind to the injustice and poverty it continually creates.
I will continue to be a sheep in the flock of millions that do not understand,
believing that our government, its Supreme Court, and almost all of its branches
are not controlled by the ruling elite who care not for the poor.

I pledge to consume as much as possible, with my right hand over my heart,
and my left hand digging through my pocketbook.
I will support big business and my local Wal-Mart,
even though they take out life insurance policies on many employees
that are worth over a billion dollars dead, and not so much alive.
I will waste more energy in my household than a third world nation,
leaving a carbon footprint large enough to prove that I was here, and I had money and oil to burn.

I pledge to believe in trade that is free and not fair,
even if coffee farmers in Ethiopia receive a few cents for the latte I purchased this morning, with the plot of land that has been in their families for generations.
Capitalism and free enterprise are the answer, and these farmers are obviously not making the grade.

I pledge not to care about global warming, because it is a scam
and I never liked Al Gore anyway.
I pledge to call anyone who questions these things a conspiracy theorist, an anarchist,a tree-hugger, or an environmentalist nutcase.

They are obviously not watching the same news channels and media outlets that I am,
and because I have not heard of or confirmed these things they obviously do not exist.

I pledge to avoid documentaries and reading material that will make me question and possibly confirm the failure of what was once a nation built on freedom, America the Beautiful.

...and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, wearing a blindfold, already divided, with corporate fascism and corruption for all.

on the WTO and my recent discoveries

2010-02-07T23:06:00.001-08:00

It has been said that our gift has human beings is to be able to learn things and to understand, to be self-aware and ever growing. Tonight, with my heart and mind heavy, I would have to say that it can also be as equally great a curse.

I am learning more now, in the past few months, than I have ever learned. I have been reading, researching, digging into history with my heels in the ground. I have found documentaries, footage that the media hid or twisted, copies of documents proving that our government funded bloody massacres and coops to overthrow democratically-elected officials in order to pillage their resources. My eyes have been opened. Not gently, no, they have been yanked open to a bright and simultaneously dark world that I never knew was out there. Most people will keep their eyes shut their whole lives. But once someone’s eyes have been opened to a world like that, they can never look away. A world of truth that many people will never see, nor have the desire to see. I can’t look away.

It’s like a traffic accident you drive by on the freeway and can’t take your eyes off of. You don’t want to see, but at the same time you need to. You desperately want to know what really happened. It’s more than that. You need to know.

Some say that sin is the human condition. I would argue that further and say that the human condition is not only wrongdoing, but also ignorance; not only ignorance, but intentional or deliberate ignorance. I talk to people every day who don’t believe in recycling, or climate change, or peak oil, or corruption, or what our future bleakly looks like. That being said, I am still usually the crazy optimist, in spite of people who intentionally choose to avoid seeking truth. But it’s hard sometimes.

Raised in a conservative and simultaneously loving and wonderful home, I have always trusted and loved my country. I said ‘one nation, under God, indivisible,’ and I meant it. I thought republicans knew everything and liberals knew nothing, and now that I’m mostly liberal I realize that neither side knows much of anything that the other side doesn’t know. I debated Creationism in class, I wanted to be a journalist, I voted for George Bush, I though America was a wonderful and generous country and I was proud to be a part of it. I had an amazing childhood. Maybe that’s why becoming an adult forming their own opinions is so difficult for me.

Beyond all the politics, beyond all the anti-American sentiment overseas, I guess I am truly amazed at the same sentiment boiling up within me. I am outraged, I am furious, and I am livid. I feel that I was personally lied to, that I was intentionally deceived, and I want to march into the streets with thousands and scream that this nation is not what we think it is. That these stars and stripes do not stand for freedom any longer, at least not to those calling the shots. That our country occupies, takes what they need, and leaves. That our history of massacre dates back to the time of the pilgrims, and has changed little since then (save the introduction of weapons of mass destruction to more effectively exterminate our opposition).

The more I know, the more I am sickened by it. The more I know, the more I want to say. But the more I want to say, the more words fail to be enough.

My life is changed. Radically. Though that in itself is beautiful, I’m not sure where I go from here.

“I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's work, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be. We know things are bad - worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone.'
Well, I'm not going leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot - I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street. All I know is that first you've got to get mad. You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING, Goddamnit! My life has VALUE!'”
-Network, 1976

(you should listen to this next song to get the real feel for the lyrics and what it means... it's about the stand off between the WTO, IMF, and World Bank in 1999 and their protestors. Moving, to put it mildly.)

50 Thousand Deep – Blue Scholars
(based on the Battle of Seattle, 1999)

November 30th, 1999
No sunshine

The body rock stopped, probably got caught by the cops
Nearby, somebody got shot
But parties don't stop and the parties don't care
It's a stick-up, it's why we got our hands in the air

Still demanding a share, refrigerators bare
'Cause they wanna see trade get free and not fair
But we are not blind, we are not there
We don't got time left to spare to not care

On the last day of November, swellin' in ranks
Went to chant down the mighty IMF and World Bank
A gathering of people in peaceful assembly
Onward to Westlake to disrupt the entry

Walk along steady, riot squad ready
To protect every last dignitary's ass
But this started when they herded us like cattle in a fence
Protesters gettin' restless without an exit

They threatened to arrest us, we pushed back and then
A hail of rubber bullets hit teens and old men
I admit, had to split when the first gas canisters hit
Felt it burn in my eyes, nose, and lips

They tried to blame it on the anarchists, garbage
I was there, I'll tell you right now the pigs started it
But they distort it in the news
Talkin' bout stompin' down Niketown wearing their shoes

But the body rock stopped, probably got caught by the cops
Nearby, somebody got shot
But the parties don't stop and the parties don't care
It's a stick-up, it's why we got our hands in the air

50,000 deep, and it sound like thunder when our feet pound streets
50,000 deep, and it sound like thunder when our feet pound streets
50,000 deep, and it sound like thunder when our feet pound streets
50,000 deep, 50,000 deep

Yeah, now, the body rock stopped, probably got caught by the cops
Nearby, somebody got shot
But parties don't stop in the south
So take your shoes off when you come into my house

I had to duck out 'cause I knew I stuck out in the crowd
After many years growin' up brown in this town
Now this is what democracy looks like
Not what you all had in mind for tonight

Mr. Mayor, shell-shocked for 5 days straight
Press conference, lookin' constipated and pale
Tossed a homie in jail, wasn't even protesting
Wrong place, wrong time, learned a quick lesson

But this is not a question what we did to deserve this
Rich kids went and got arrested on purpose
But was it worth it? My first inclination
Globalization is the root of the pain

Made the reason that they left and the reason that we came
Catch my breath, blood pulsates my brain
And they called it a riot?
Huh, I call it an uprising

And they call this a riot?
But nah, I call it a uprising
And they call this a riot? Nah man, f*k that
I'm a call it a uprising

on two thousand and ten

2009-12-31T22:47:00.000-08:00

Dear Two-Thousand-and-Ten,

A decade ago, I was only thirteen and brought in the coming millennia playing in the snow and contemplating where I would be on this very day, ten years and many roads later. I wondered if I would be married or have children, and in my head then I’m certain I thought I would have graduated college or become a successful travel writer or marine biologist by now (sorry to disappoint, Miss Dayna who was thirteen).

A year ago today I resolved my resolutions from the year before. I concluded that I would make no promises or resolutions for 2009, and in lieu of those I would simply try to live more deeply and abundantly. As this past year ebbed and flowed, I sometimes succeeded in that, and those were beautiful moments.

Earlier today I stood on my porch and let the snowflakes drift past me, letting a few hit my face and turn to droplets. As I sipped my lukewarm coffee, I wondered what I should resolve to do – if anything – and how important I would make said resolutions. This year, in place of resolving much of anything, I am simply going to try much harder to do a few fairly important things. This eliminates the hassle of exactly one year from this moment when I will undoubtedly return to read this blog and wonder how I failed so miserably at simple things, thus triggering my mental self-flagellation. Setting painstakingly concrete resolutions can be a drag, let’s face it, so I’m trying something a little different.

(As a treat for next year, I’m going to save my opinion on why we only set goals for ourselves on one day out of the year and then waste the other 364 thinking we can’t decide to resolve anything until next January rolls around. You’re welcome.)

Part of why I hate resolutions is because I’m very bad at sticking to plans. I am awful. It’s embarrassing. Those who know me well will attest to my spontaneity and free-spirited wandering as being endearing yet simultaneously burdensome and annoying. Especially Kurt. He’s a planner. I’m a drifter. Most especially my mother, but only because she’s worried I will waste away as a hitchhiker while never recognizing my full potential as a world-changing writer/singer/songwriter/political activist/what have you. The people that choose to love me in life are rewarded with anecdotes and pretty cool stories while simultaneously being stuck on the rollercoaster that is my life.

The past few weeks I have been realizing just how badly I have been treating my mind through most of this last year. I haven’t been feeding it with new things to encounter and process and enjoy, like books or documentaries. Much of this will be remedied by the obscene amount of new books I received for Christmas thanks to my wonderful parents. Thanks to them, I have beside me a stack of books that, when I look at it, makes me so happy I want to pee my pants. I love the written word; Steinbeck, old classics, obscure travel writers, even local newspapers. Until a month ago I had forgotten how it felt to spend hours in a book. It is lovely. Thus, my first Unresolution is to read more and more diversely, to feed the amazing working thing that is my human mind.

Following along that same thread with Unresolution II, I need to write more and become more serious about it. Save this entry and notwithstanding my lack of practice, I promise that I can be a great writer in time. The general idea is not to give a hoot if I make money but to send in freelance work to build up a portfolio so that when I do again have money to travel, I will be able to make extra pennies (I’m under no delusion, they will be pennies and not dollars).

My third Unresolution is that I will write more music and pursue outlets to hone that ability within me, seeking out smaller coffee shops and performance venues that will help me get better while keeping my head and ego at a nice and manageable level. (Back when I toured I started to think I was a big deal, much like Will Ferrell, so this is more important than it sounds, especially as I lack the office that smells of rich mahogany.)

So 2010, you are Unresolved at last. I want to read more books, learn and practice the craft of writing, and reignite my passion for writing music. I would also be okay with sending more postcards, winning a Nobel Prize, finishing my novel, quitting smoking, and trading in my cat for a dog that doesn’t pee in the corner.

Nice to meet you 2010, I think this year will be great.

-Me

on your shopping habits and where my paychecks go

2009-11-09T14:44:00.000-08:00

It's easier to be stagnant
than to want something to change.
Easier to stay comfortable in our first world living rooms
televisions on, food in the cupboards.
It's easier that way.

Keep your distance
from what and who is broken in this world.
Maybe send a check to a charity.
Yeah, that's the way to go.

It's more difficult to find what is simple
in a world this complicated.
Harder to find time for real life
when the cell phone is ringing
on the bedside table.

We become more shallow as our
accumulation of things and stuff gets deeper.
Acquire, buy, sell, pay the rent, make a profit.

Go to college for what?
So you can equate excess with success
and accumulation with personal growth?
Or are you doing it to do what you love?
To make a difference?
To fight for something that actually matters?
For you and me, I hope it's the latter.

What an empty life and superficial existence.
Yet few fight for more than that.

Sometimes and in some cases, less is more.
I think life is one of those cases.

You can have your designer jeans
and fancy things.
Keep your fifty dollar shoes that
reek of waste and the American Wreck.
Watch the NFL game on your
larger-than-life television screen
that no one really needs.

A family could eat for months (maybe years)
on what we spent last year on frivolities
and junk we won't use again, or ever.

You know how much it takes to provide
a permanent well for a village in need
of clean water?
Water to brush teeth, to bathe in,
to drink to avoid disease and death?
Two thousand. Dollars.

But never you mind.
What I am saying is obviously written
toward somebody else. Not you or me.
We have bills. We are exempt.

Because you need that television,
and that SUV that the pretty
bikini-clad lady told you that you need
to find happiness, and maybe have some sex
or a hot date.
You need job security, and the nice apartment
with a closet full of clothes you will never wear.

When people finally find Love,
and the rich finally meet the poor:

I hope there are no more big screens.
I hope designers go out of business.
I hope that we learn to take care of those in need
before pampering ourselves.

I hope we start to find what is Real and True.
I hope that we fight the American Dream
of excess of waste,
of consumerism and greed.
I hope we turn off our televisions
and go outside
to dance in the sunshine or the rain.

I hope we provide microfinance loans for small businesses,
giving up what we don't need to give to someone else.
Putting others before ourselves.
Learning that looking good and owning lots of crap
just makes you another face in the crowd.

When love wins, I hope there is no 'us' and 'them' anymore,
just people who need one another, who need community.

Just people who know how to Live. Not just exist for themselves.

I hope I learn to be that way too.

on the damaging and the beautiful

2009-09-15T21:40:00.001-07:00

The more I learn about the malevolent forces in our universe - the conflicts, cultural misunderstandings, corporate greed, corrupt governments, preventable diseases, force-fed democracy, unsustainability, and rampant poverty - the more deeply I am moved to stand for something. To fight for something honorable with my life.

The more I learn about what is damaging, the more I want to create what is beautiful. I wonder why celebrities become more news-worthy than wars or things that matter, hoping to train myself to subscribe to higher thoughts and deeper things someday. When I look around my beautiful apartment, with rarely-worn clothes hanging in the closet, the only word that comes to mind is 'excess'.

Nights like tonight I find myself wanting to trash the excess, throw away anything with a brand name, give away what is useful, and buy a car that runs on trash. Nights like tonight I wonder at the world and all the bitter mixed with the sweet, and I realize that I am just as much part of the problem as anybody else.

I hope I spend my days learning to become part of a solution instead.

on september the eighth

2009-09-08T21:38:00.000-07:00

Growing up and growing older is funny.

Sometimes it hits me that I am on my own now, that it's been several years since high school, that I am way past the date I always had set in my mind that my life would make sense, or that I would have it all figured out. I think when I was little I always assumed that this age was around 16 or 18. Now, about a month away from 23, all I can do is chuckle knowing that in ten years I will still be growing and smiling at what I thought I knew and understood now.

I don't like moving.

That's not entirely true, because there is something beautiful and mysterious and new about leaving behind the familiar to embrace what is uncomfortable. It changes you. Most of my family and friends know that if anyone is prone to randomly decide to move to a new place on a moment's notice, it is probably me. So, maybe it's not the moving that bothers me. No, it's the packing. It's the memories that flood your senses as you pick up a picture frame or wrap up your history in cardboard and tape.

I chatted with my beautiful mom today for awhile as she packs away our belongings and gets ready to put our house up for sale; the place I have thought of as home for the last seven or eight years. While procrastinating on my homework I wondered at this mystery of life and love and moving on to new things. It's hard sometimes to set those old things on the sidewalk and walk away, and even harder not to look back and wonder if it was okay to just leave them there.

I had time today, for the first time in a few weeks, to just spend some time with myself. To just hang out, me and myself, listen to some beautiful acoustic melodies, play some of my own songs, and dwell on what is good and true in my life. I forget to take these moments for myself often, especially with school, work, my social life, and trying to cram in study sessions at all hours of the night.

It's times like these, when everything is changing and racing forward, that I realize how blessed I am to have those places I have called home. Within four walls can rest more memories than the ocean could hold, and I remember my sister Brittany and I sleeping under the glow of the Christmas tree to try to catch Santa (we were 18). I remember hard nights and tears shed, writing on the walls in our basement, relationships ending, campfires in the backyard, the conversations that changed me on the front porch. I remember my exhaustion and relief when I finally stumbled into the living room after my misadventures this summer to a room that I recognized and faces I love.

Sometimes I get lost in the moment, I freak out about the drama queens (and a couple kings) that dislike me for whatever reason, I worry about finances, or I dwell on things that don't matter. Days like today come along, when I can stand on my porch and watch the clouds changing colors, feel the cool breeze in my face, sip my coffee and feel autumn crashing in around me... and I realize that it's all okay. That I have the brains to ignore the superficial, the gift to write music, friends that are constantly coming into my life to bless me, and ramen in my cupboard to eat.

And I realize that I don't have to know it all. I don't have to have all the answers. I don't have to change the whole world, I just have to keeping working on myself. And home will follow me wherever I go, whether I'm moving or staying still.

on missing you

2009-08-03T09:48:00.001-07:00

Dear Open Road,

I miss you. I crave you like I crave coffee in the morning. In fact, I may crave you infinately more than that.

I think of you and I smile, as if you were a lover that I had and lost. I miss your beauty and the faces you would bring to my life. I miss traveling without an agenda and every day something and someplace new. I miss feeling like my life was a love affair with myself, finding and discovering a new layers every day... like I was an onion. Or something else with layers. I miss having no money and feeling more rich and full then I have in my life.

I think you are more important than school, and than settling down in Moscow, or than living what most people would call a life of normalcy. I think I could fall asleep on the streets of this world and be happier than anyone with a fancy car and 9 to 5 job. I think people that judge me for thinking that just don't understand and haven't met you yet. They should meet you. I think you would get along with them great. Well, not all of them... it takes a mindset I suppose.

I am planning to see you again, just so you know.

As soon as I can line up my ducks in a semi-straight row, pay off some of my urgent debt, get my license back, and convince my family that I'm not crazy (well, I wouldn't hold my breath for that one), I am setting out to find you. I will sell all my belongings that just end up owning me, I will say goodbye to the friends I love, I will quit my meaningless job, I will declare myself a nomad and kiss your sweet face.

I look around my apartment at everything I own, and I don't want it anymore. An unpacked backpack lingers in the corner of my room and all I want to do is throw it on and go out to meet the world. But I will wait a few months. I will pay my bills. I will be responsible about this whole nomadic thing. Get ready, though.

Because I have one life. One. I have one shot, and that's it. I want to know that if I died tomorrow, I lived for what was most important. Not some stupid materialistic dream, not the accumulation of worldly stuff, not a piece of paper that tells me I can make it on my own. Not those things.

I can't wait to see you again, and I will miss you every moment til I get there.
-Day

on love and the end of the open road

2009-07-16T14:49:00.001-07:00

My eyes are getting heavy.

It is 3:26, and not in the afternoon, and it seems as though all my waking thoughts and dreams are of travel and what I have learned and am learning. I have been sedentary for only five days, and the open road is already teasing me with sunsets and mile marker signs glowing brightly in my mind.

I have loved this last month. It has moved me and made me dance, and sometimes it has made me question everything. Not just question everything. But Everything, with a capital ‘E.’ In fact, just for dramatic emphasis, you can capitalize the rest of the word as well. EVERYTHING. Because I feel that the weight of this statement is still vastly misunderstood, I will also ask that you add an exclamation point at the end. EVERYTHING!

It becomes easy to question everything (capitalized-with-an-added-exclamation) when you begin to realize that really you know nothing. Despite our best efforts; despite how full of fervor some of our conversations or debates have been; despite how we often feel that our way of living is the way it should be… we don’t know everything, and we haven’t even scratched the surface. You think you have been open-minded? Yeah, I did too.

No matter how often we volunteer our time or money, regardless of how we may be studying to make a difference in this world, despite how we avoid Starbucks to make sure farmers get a Fair Trade price for what they grow, and even though we insist that we are NOT the center of the universe…. we still struggle with looking beyond ourselves and just LOVING. No agenda, no conditions, just love.

I write this now as if I have learned the secret to life, but the truth actually lies in some split-second a week from now when I will be the one honking at the car in front of me for not moving the instant that red turns to green. It becomes evident in the way that we judge strangers instead of hugging them, assuming that what the world sees as beauty, is in fact beauty. It is in every day, when we forget that other people exist and need us to notice that they exist. In the midst of trying to find love, we forget that others are looking as well.

In everything that I have been questioning, this has turned into my new mission in life.

I don’t give a damn whether I have a degree, pay all my bills, am dating anyone, travel the world over… if I have not loved and lived well, none of it will matter in the long run. So for the first time in a very long time, my mission is only to love. Wherever I’m living, whatever I’m doing… Love.

I have no doubt that I will spend a long time figuring out exactly what that means.

And that’s okay.

on the open road part IV

2009-07-16T14:48:00.000-07:00

It has been a month now since I set out on the road. 35 days, to be exact.

It all started at a local CouchSurfing barbecue, when my new CS friend Josh and I decided we needed to pack our bags and set out. All we knew is that we wanted to utilize CouchSurfing to meet as many amazing people as possible in as many places as we could afford, and that we needed to attend Tentsurf 2009 in Colorado. I have to say, quite honestly, that my life was changed.

I had some expectations, not a whole lot of money, no idea what awaited, and just carried the hope that this trip would be everything I wanted it to be. Now that I am sitting peacefully in my parent’s living room here in Seattle - the day after leaving the open road - I finally have the chance to piece together all that this month has meant to me.

There was camping at Tentsurf 2009 with a few hundred other surfers from around the world, where I was blessed enough to get to know at least a dozen people very well, and dozens more by their face and their smile. Within that event was a community like I had never seen… the sharing of food, water, and life stories. It was like nothing and everything belonged to me at the same time. There were community breakfasts with more than twenty people, conversations that changed me, and friends that I have no doubt will be in my life for years to come. There were drum circles around an open fire, thanks to Coyote Dave and his open heart and willingness to share the instruments that he makes. There was a wedding between two surfers, Anthony and Niven, and we were blessed enough to participate in it as friends and campers. There was a conversation between Houston’s CS City Ambassador Taryn and I that lasted hours on end, comparing and contrasting the roads of our lives and where we came from. Most of all, and most moving, there was deep and unconditional love, fueled by our spirit of surfing and our passion for our global community.

I spent the next three weeks visiting new hosts, and meeting up again with those I had come to know at the CS campout in Colorado. From having dinner at the monthly Salt Lake City meetup, to laughing on the front porch in Portland with Ben and Holly, to live music on the beach with my host Kasondra in Santa Cruz, to a barbecue with our host Rose Marie in Montana, to watching live jazz in the park and pub crawling with the local Denver group, it was entirely a CS trip.

What I walked away with, most of all, was a more important understanding of what CouchSurfing really is… the opportunity to know others and have others know you. The real you. The chance to learn to be and fall in love with who you are, unapologetically, and encounter others who love the person you are as well.

I have only been CouchSurfing since January, but I can safely say that I am a surfer for life. I can only hope that I get the chance to host - even more than I already have! - in my humble abode in Idaho! Forget the free place to crash… I have made friends for life on this trip.

And the world is welcome on my doorstep any time.

on the open road part III (or on sleeping on the couches of strangers)

2009-06-30T23:32:00.001-07:00

I just walked back inside through the screen door of this brilliantly-Californian evening. I took a stroll down a lane lined with palm trees, took off my sunglasses and let the sun hit my face. I stepped foward. I gave myself a moment to inhale slowly, to look around, and fully realize how beautiful I have allowed my life become.

It is beautiful, isn't it?

The last few weeks have been a montage of amazing memories that all seem to flow into one lovely chapter of my life... a chapter I have no desire to put a conclusion to. So I won't. It can only continue. People dream of travel and far-off places, of Italy, Brasil, Morocco... and being one of those dreamers myself, I can understand. But I'm starting to realize the depth and beauty of what is not so far-off in the first place. Who knew so many amazing people were within this half of the U.S.? And ones that wanted to meet me? And that I want to meet too? Who knew I would feel like such a dramatically different and free woman after only three or four weeks on the road? Who knew that I would find friends and relationships that would change me, would challenge me, would move me and that would provide for me when life on the road got rough?

The deeper I delve into CouchSurfing, the more I find how much of a family we are, how connected we all are. The reason? Most people aren't okay with that type of openness, that type of trust and adventure. Most people get uncomfortable with newness or with accepting how safe something like this could be if you use it with caution and correctly. As a result? Most people on CouchSurfing are some of the most amazing and experienced that you will ever meet. All the ones that wouldn't fit are weeded out by default. Which is not to say there isn't diversity within the community. I have met mothers, fathers, elderly, the newly-graduated, the homeless, the rich, the well-travelled, the well-read, the uneducated, the wise... the list goes on. I have met atheists,Protestants, liberals, conservatives, introverts and extroverts. I have partied hearty with hosts and I have just as happily rested in silence.

The point is that I am learning to be me, to be Dayna. To embracing this adventure without plans, without much money, without an agenda of where to go or see things... and it is completely changing me. To being okay with things and knowing it will work out when your ride takes off, or you're stuck in San Francisco, or you run out of money in Santa Cruz. To shedding things that I don't need and that don't define me. Who needs materialism and cute clothes that were made in Indonesia by sweatshop kids anyway? Who needs to spend an hour getting ready to know they are beautiful? (Not to say that I don't love cute clothes or going out and looking nice, but I am just realizing I can survive without it WAY more easily than I thought possible.) I am finding freedom in letting go, in realizing how little I need to get by, how easy it is to give away or recycle clothes that just make your backpack heavier along the way anyway, and might make somebody's day. You never know til you try.

What I'm learning most, even if you can't tell from this post, is that I know nothing. I know nothing! I thought I knew a lot. But I know what I know, which is so little. I thought I needed to travel the world to feel this content (not that I still don't want to, I'm stoked to be abroad again). I thought I needed to go to far-off lands to satisfy my thirst for travel and new faces. But let's hop back to one thing I said earlier: "fully realize how beautiful I have ALLOWED my life to become."

Allowed. It is up to me, and has always been up to me. It's always been up to me to wake up in the morning and say "this may just be the best day of my life, so I'm going to make sure I do my best to let that happen." Doesn't always work. But it almost always makes me grin in knowing it's quite possible, and if I try to MAKE it possible, it's way more likely to happen. If there is rain, dance in it. If there is a headache, curse at it but know it will go away soon. If there is sunshine, take a walk in it. If there is lightning, check out how crazy beautiful it is (then run away). Take Today and breathe in it, spit on it, swim in it, fall in love with it... just be there.

Be present in your own life. Be THE factor that decides if your day is going to be wonderful and good. That's not to say hard days won't come, or times won't get rough. But if there is one thing I was meant to learn - and have learned - on this trip, it is that.

Feeling very accomplished with this novel, I am signing out. Presently. Ha.

on kurt and saying goodbye

2009-06-28T10:55:00.000-07:00

You are deeper than the sea.

More complex, more God damn difficult,
more full of mystery and more profound
than words could ever know.
I like it that way. I do.

You drive with your eyes unfocused
until I steal a smile
when you catch me staring.
Your tattoo peeks at me from under your sleeve,
your arm tanned from our day on the beach
and the drive from Reno.

I like to look at you when you are serious
when I know you are thinking
-and likely worrying-
about money or your next pack of cigarettes
or where we will sleep tonight.

You are one of the few, you know.

One of the few that is real and true,
one who doesn’t waste words like so many people do.
You pick and choose, you don’t fill empty space with empty ideas,
and you aren’t afraid or intimidated by Silence.

Your New York accent draws a smile in the morning,
and I twirl your hair in my fingers and repeat after you.
It’s not coffee. It’s caw-fee.

You wince.

I’ll be missing you, but I think you know that.
I will miss your eyes, and the way they shine green
like emeralds.
Or something green like that.

I will miss looking left from the passenger side
and tracing your profile with mountains as backdrops
and open roads ahead.
But this is life, and life is an open road in itself.

Open roads are what connected us to begin with,
winding their way through our claustrophobic souls
until we screamed out loud to be nomads,
to live nowhere and everywhere;
to dumpster diving in Santa Cruz
and dreaming of painting curbsides in black numbers.

You will always have the road, and the road
could always lead you back to me.
Regardless, it led you TO me.
It is what it is.
For that, and for you, I am thankful.

on the open road part II

2009-06-27T18:02:00.000-07:00

June 21, 2009

It’s been eleven days since I wrote. Several times I have sat down with the intention of writing, but it’s so hard to spell out your heart in black and white when all you have seen is color and mountains and bodies of water passing you by out the passenger window. It’s hard to explain love in a language that is not embraces, smiles, or warm faces and hearts. But I will try.

Camping in Fairplay was life-changing. I knew this trip in itself would be, but I wasn’t sure in what way, or how it would come about, or who I would meet on the way and why. But as the days have passed me by the last two weeks, I have known nothing but laughter and fresh faces, new stories and mental snapshots to take with me.

I felt a sense of Utopia, an overshadowing feeling that in the midst of three hundred other people in the wilderness, I was special. I was important. And it wasn’t in a pompous way, or a conceited way, but you knew you were loved and wanted by everyone around you, and everyone wanted to know your name. There were no handshakes, there were embraces. There were no barriers or roadblocks to getting to know one another. It was like we had been on the road together the whole time to begin with.

I would wake up every morning to a community breakfast of thirty to forty people, offering blueberry pancakes, fresh fruit, eggs, bagels… it was as if nothing and everything belonged to me at the same time. People would wander into the camp, give us a hug in the morning, offer us whatever they had. It was a sense of community, togetherness and love, more so than any gathering or church service or group of friends I have ever experienced in this lifetime. There was love instead of hate. There was an overwhelming peace regardless of the storm in the world around us.

For me there were difficult moments as well as the sweet, which is to be expected with the way I bounce my heart around like a beach ball sometimes. But even in the brokenness there was something beautiful. If tears were shed, there were people that would find you, somehow, and just sit with you. No words to fill empty spaces, no false promises or superficial comfort. They would hold you, they would smile, and they would be there.

There was much that happened, so much beauty with a drop or two of pain, that I fear words won’t be enough this time. But I don’t want to forget the way that we loved for those five days. We were strangers but the closest of friends at the same time.

What I walked away with is, I’m sure, the reason I came on this trip. I walked away with a sense and a completely real awareness of myself. It was like I had been blind for so long, and the curtains opened and I realized how loved I am. How fun it is to be around me sometimes. How beautiful I am, regardless of popularity or repute. How talented I am as a musician, and how I have been wasting that gift for far too long. How I have the ability – if I use it – to draw people together and help facilitate new friendships and relationships.

I walked away being Dayna, without apologies, without doubts, without self-consciousness or fear. For the first time in a long time, I was so proud to be Dayna that I wanted to scream out loud from the rooftops, and declare that I was free. I wanted to open my arms up to this great big world and thank it for reintroducing me to my soul.

So I did.

on the open road thusfar part I

2009-06-15T10:49:00.000-07:00

June 6th, 2009
I packed up. I finished work. And then I set out.

It was raining, and as Josh and I pulled the Rodeo out of Moscow I was beginning to wonder if this journey would be as beautiful as I had been hoping and expecting. I began to doubt the purpose, began to wonder why it is that I feel a road trip at this point in my life would set me free, would make me more alive and awake. The clouds felt dark, and I still harbored a bit of excitement in between my nerves and my exhaustion, but it was overcast slightly in my soul as I thought of all that could go wrong.

At the precise moment that we rolled down the hill leaving Pullman, the sun broke through the clouds and the skies began to clear. It may be cliché that we compare our emotions and our moods to the weather, to the sunshine and the rain. But at that moment in time, at 7:23 pm, the sun washed me in light and I bathed in it and took it all in. I cleared my mind and began to realize that I could choose to make this journey wonderful regardless of circumstance.

One thing that my mother is beginning to learn and teach to me is the art of being present in the moment that you are in. To fully realize yourself, right now. To take the moment and talk with it, roll it around in your mind like a flavor on your tongue, and taste the bitter with the sweet. I resolved that this would be the focus of my road trip. I would look forward to camping in Colorado, but it would not be the highlight. Every moment would be the highlight. I wouldn’t waste today being excited about tomorrow or worrying about how to get where I needed to go.

I would embrace childlike wonder, fall in love with the open roads, the mountains, and the dozens of people I would meet on the way. I would meet with this vast and beautiful world, and reintroduce myself.

So I let the sun shine on my face, and watched the clouds come back a moment later, but in that moment I knew. I would learn more in these two weeks, with these friends I didn’t know a month ago, than I have in a very long time.

I smiled and watched the world behind me disappear into the rearview mirror.

June 7th, 2009

I couldn’t sleep last night.

Josh and I pulled into Gerene’s parking lot sometime around nine or ten, the Rodeo packed to the roof in both the trunk and the backseat. We stayed up late, exhaling. This was it. This was really going to happen. I tossed and turned once we finally decided to call it a night, knowing that this was the day that all I had saved up for and planned was really going to pay off.

And today, we drove.

Gerene and I took off in the Subaru, with Josh close behind in the beloved Rodeo. We watched the rolling hills grow into mountains; we saw the beauty and the wonder instead of the destination or the miles. I spent the good half of an hour with my window down, throwing my hand out into the wind like I did when I was younger, letting myself be amazed by the physics and the way all of this works.

Beyond the scenery, there was also depth and conversation. I met Gerene one time before yesterday, and I believe beyond the shadow of a doubt that we were meant to be friends. We were meant to take this journey together. The more I continue to learn about my new friends, the more deeply I believe this.

Gerene is beautiful. I don’t think she realizes how beautiful she is, or how heads turn when she walks past, but to be honest, her heart puts her lovely face to shame. She is deep and introspective, while somehow managing to be one of the most hilarious and generous people I’ve ever met. I’ve learned that she lost someone this year to suicide, someone who captivated her and made her whole. Gerene shared much of this story with me, and while some stories get old, I was fascinated by the strength in her heart and her desire to find out who she really is in the midst of this storm. This strength and desire is what drove her to answer my request for a carpool to Colorado in the first place, within just an hour of me posting it on the internet. I am moved by her, as I am moved by her story and her passion for writing and sharing.

Josh and I were instant friends when we met at the CouchSurfing barbecue that I planned, not even a month ago now. He is a self-proclaimed extrovert in the making, and has used our get-togethers as a way for him to be in situations that will stretch him and challenge him. I have completely fallen in love with his personality and who we are as friends, me letting him know that he should be himself more often, because he is a great guy, with a huge heart to offer anyone he calls friend. That’s when he gives me the look and tells me that when he tries not be awkward ‘things just get more awkward.’ It took me most of two weeks to convince him that he should skip a week of summer classes to come on a grand adventure with our new friend Gerene, who eventually made it down from Spokane to a CouchSurfing game night at my place.

During the two weeks planning the road trip, I found out that Josh recently lost a brother in a tragic accident. I drew a blank, speechless, moved beyond words by what he told me next. Josh wants to make the most of his life, wants to meet new people and hear their stories. He wants to learn to love being around people and learn to be himself in the process. He’s doing it for his brother. It’s what he would have wanted. Josh brought some of his brother’s ashes with us, and they sit between us on the consol of the Rodeo, every now and then reminding me how beautiful it is to be here and to be experiencing and breathing in this journey.

I know we have all loved and lost, and that this in itself ties us all together. But I never want to grow numb to stories, to open hearts and the opportunity to be a listening ear. I feel so challenged by these new amazing friends, by their openness and their willingness to transform what is ugly into something beautiful and life-changing. In turn, they are changing me.

Yes, there is music up loud, and sometimes we roll our windows down and let the wind play in our hair and over our faces. But there is a strong current of the Something Deeper that we were meant to find on this trip.

We arrived in Bozeman in the late afternoon, and our host Rose Marie greeted us with a barbecue and new friends. We met a couple from Switzerland, and a few other locals who made for great conversation over a burgers and pork ribs. We made our way to the local tavern to listen to Open Mic night. I got up onstage alone for the first time in years, and played and sang my heart out at a dive bar in the middle of Montana, with all of my new friends at a table nearby cheering me on.

Everyone went crazy, clapping and wanting more. It wasn’t their attention that made me so filled with joy, but the fact that I was doing something I loved and that complete strangers were loving it with me. I sat around afterwards, conversing with two nomadic musicians who play punk music and live on the road. One of them had several huge dreadlocks, but only in the front. Once you saw past them, there were deep and soulful brown eyes, and I could tell his heart was like mine… open, and ready for that Something Deeper.

I think we all are.

June 8th, 2009

Today’s drive seemed longer and more drawn-out than usual. The Bozeman group kept us up late with good music and conversation, so our sleep was fleeting and we woke up early to get started on today’s leg of our journey to Casper, Wyoming, about six hours away.

We picked up Seth this morning in Bozeman, another CouchSurfer who needed a ride to the campout in Colorado. He is reserved but insightful, and I think he’s a great addition to the group. I rode in the Rodeo with Josh for awhile, and in between singing along with some great music by Sublime and conversation, I had a lot of time to think.

We saw three rainbows today. I actually think it was the same rainbow, just from different angles, as it rose up and disappeared into the clouds that were hovering low to the ground. I chuckled at the clichés I always seem to come up with… we saw both ends of the same rainbow. We saw both ends of one story, both sides of the coin, regardless of what was in between. I hope that after this trip I am more well-rounded and aware, having heard more stories and opinions, more sides of the story than just mine. Maybe someday I’ll see the whole metaphorical rainbow, but I doubt it… I think life is about continuing to learn always.

We made it to Casper to our host Christine’s house tonight. She is a sweet lady with an adorable four year old named Christian. Christine, dubbed ‘Chris,’ is a travelling nurse. She has travelled the world, and has many stories for us. We were Chris’s first guests using CouchSurfing, and I was amazed that for her first time hosting she agreed to take in four of us. I am being constantly amazed by the grace and hospitality of our hosts along the way… I can imagine that this will only continue the farther we get in our journey.

June 9th, 2009
Oh the glory of sleeping in.

Christine let us stay in her home even after she left for work this morning, and showing that kind of trust to the four of us really humbled me. I’m not even sure I would be that trusting, especially as a woman who lives alone as a single mom. She was the perfect host, offering us anything she had to give, even though we really needed very little. She was one of those people you feel you could learn so much from, but just don’t have the time. We have to keep moving on…

I am typing this on the open road, while we cross the border into Colorado, headed for Denver tonight. We woke up to sunshine, and the ability to sleep in, which has proved to be VERY necessary to have a successful and happy day on the road. We took our time, lingering in Chris’s living room and checking our email, reading the books we brought with us, Josh doing homework to make up for the entire week of class he’s missing to come with us. I sat on top of the Subaru and ate half of a grapefruit, watching the clouds roll by and waiting for our caravan to finish preparing for take-off, so to speak.

We piled in, stopping to grab a couple cheap hot dogs at a convenience store to tide us over until we make it to Denver. Gerene and I found a great 80’s and 90’s mix, and danced in the car while the boys followed us in the Rodeo, probably wondering what the hell was going on up there. Gerene and I have decided that after the campout we will likely head to Arizona, then on to visit my sister in Los Angeles, heading up the West Coast for our route home. I’m excited to find a kindred spirit as free and wanderlust-filled as mine. We will drive. We will eventually make it home when we run out of money.

That’s all we know, and we like it that way.

We dressed in summer clothes, as it was hot this morning, but two hours into our journey, along the Wyoming/Colorado border we watched the storm come at us from the horizon, getting some amazing lightning from a distance, then eventually getting pelted by rain so heavy we had to pull off the interstate and wait it out.

We’re an hour outside of Denver now, and I can see the Rockies creeping closer through the clouds, their immensity too large for me to begin to understand. I see the snow on the peaks, the blue sky in the background, and signs letting us know our destination is coming soon… at least the destination for today.

The campout is tomorrow, and I feel far from prepared to sleep at 9,600 feet in the freezing cold in the Rockies. But that's okay. I'm sure it will be great.

on working double shifts and the two weeks left

2009-05-24T11:08:00.001-07:00

Two more weeks.

That's it. Two more weeks til I set out on the open road with next to no money, no job to worry about coming home to for a little while, no deadlines locking me in and new friends to keep me company. Two new friends I have met through CouchSurfing and I will set out to become better acquainted with one another, and more importantly with ourselves. We will drive. We will drive all day, with the windows down and the music up, making strangers into new friends and seeing more of this enormous continent that we sometimes overlook in our attempt to see the rest of the world.

I have been able to save enough money only for gas and a whole lot of ramen and granola bars. But that won't stop me. I need this trip. I need to do this. I have batteries for my digital camera, and a new notebook to capture my thoughts in. I have four days in Colorado to camp in the Rockies with hundreds of other travellers from around the world at Tentsurf 2009, with our guitar cases and hearts open to learn something new. After that? A week of unplanned and uncharted waters, with maybe a stop in Salt Lake City, or maybe somplace else. We don't really know. Maybe we will meet some friends in Colorado and feel like making a trip to kepe hanging out with them. The thing I love about Gerene, my partner in crime, is that she is just as open and receptive to change as I am. We are happy to be drifters, to be blown by the wind to new and beautiful places.

I have wanted my whole life to take a road trip. A real one. One that is not burdened with a detailed itenerary and landmarks I have to see. One that is for no reason other than for my own soul and my need for freedom from this corporate sludge I keep trying to break free of. We will make the mountains our landmarks and we will throw most itenerary plans out the window on our way there.

All these things I have to keep remembering as I work twelve hour days, taking any shift I can find, putting all my money in a 'deposit' envelope (to avoid myself from making any 'withdrawals' to have a night out on the town or go out to eat). I have to remember this when I feel trapped, when I feel like my life here is without purpose and mundane. I have to remember why I'm doing it all... why I am in school again, why I am working full-time, why I am not drinking much these days, why I am starting to walk places instead of drive.

It's so I can be new... free. Healthy and full of life.

It's so I can be the Dayna that I was meant to be, so that I can take road trips like I will soon and feel the wind in my hair, put my shades on, and enjoy the glare of the sun on my face. So, as I get ready for another long and tedious day of waiting tables, putting on my plastic smile and pretending to enjoy getting paid next to nothing, I will remember why. My plastic smile will turn into one that is genuine, and I will look forward to the open road.

Just two more weeks...

on california, and my flimsy piece of paper

2009-05-08T00:35:00.000-07:00

It's been two years since I left Azusa.

I spent some time today, in between homework and cups of coffee, thinking back on those days, and these days, and all the days in between. It's not that I'm unhappy now, or that I would wish to go back, because people change like the seasons and so does everything else, myself included. But I miss the sunshine and I miss my sister. I miss the palm trees and the way every day of class felt like the last one before summer break. I miss Ian's playlists and running to Donut Man in the middle of the night. I miss Long Beach and I miss Pizzamania with Brian. I miss a lot of things.

As a general rule, when I make decisions of any magnitude, I have to do it quickly. I have to put on my coat, say my goodbyes, and close the door behind me without looking back. It usually takes me quite some time before I sit and count my losses, or gains as the case may be. Tonight is one of the few nights since packing up my car and leaving behind my California world that I wonder if I made the right choice. I wonder if I chose the wrong life, or if I am just being useless in this sleepy town that I feel I can't make a difference in. I was in Azusa for a year. Everyone else was there throughout their entire college career. I was a blip on the radar, a passerby, someone to be thought of on ocassion when old pictures flash across the computer screen.

Then again, I am always a passerby, aren't I?

I wish I could decide. I wish I could decide whether or not I want to be sedentary for awhile so I can get a flimsy piece of paper to prove my worth, or whether I want to just chase what's important. Not a career path, not another trail of corporate waste and greed, but Life. Fresh Air. Love and Relationships. An open road before me and my belongings in a faded backpack, a heart ready to live nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Life is fragile anyway, right? Who's to say I will live past my twenty-somethings anyway? What if this is all I've got?

I am so ready to just lay behind everything this corporate-driven nation thinks is valuable or fashionable. I am so ready to meet the World, to sink my feet into it, to swim in it and to hear as many life stories and meet as many people as I can.

I'm just... ready. I'm ready for more.

on being crazy and a conversation with self

2009-04-26T02:09:00.000-07:00

I am sitting.

Where am I sitting, you ask? On my bed, if you must know, but that wasn’t really the point. I am sitting on my life, here in Moscow, and from time to time comes a night like tonight. Out of nowhere, I allow myself to fully realize my nomadic soul, and it glares me in the face and screams that it is dying. We have a brief conversation that I will let my mind linger on for awhile longer, sometimes an entire evening, and the talk usually goes something like this:

“Dayna, it’s me! IT’S ME! For the love of God, please stop… stop with the work, and the classes, and the boyfriend, and the friends, and your never-ending social circle, and your mindless browsing through Facebook, and all of that other crap you use to keep yourself busy… stoppit! Just STOPPIT and talk to me. I miss you, and I’m still in here, you know. In that thing called your heart. Talk? Now? Please?”

“Oh hey, sorry. How have you been Nomadic Me?”

“Damn woman, that took forever. I am suffocating, if you must know. I know we love Moscow, and that it is home and that those things will never change. But you know you don’t belong here, right? You are starting to scare me, and to be honest with you, I’m dying.”

“We went to New York City two weeks ago, didn’t we? Geez, I thought you’d be happy for a bit.”

“No, that’s the thing. It wasn’t long enough. It was like a teaser trip because the trip wasn’t your own. It was for the UN. I didn’t see enough. I mean, meeting up with people and seeing the town through a native’s perspective was so great, and you know how I love meeting new people in strange places. But you got so caught up in what most of your classmates were doing, all those dumb touristy things that millions of other people have done, you didn’t even let me truly breathe.”

“Of course you’re breathing, you idiot, you are me. I’m still breathing.”

“Smart ass.”

“Well, I have been busy!”

“No, you MAKE yourself busy! You make it IMPOSSIBLE to make time for yourself. Hell, we are sitting in bed having this talk, and in ten minutes you are supposed to be ready to go out with Danny and his friends. You don’t even give yourself time to be you, Day. Or for us to be us. I’m not really sure how this works. Anyway, I need you. I need you to recognize that I need you.”

“Fine. I recognize that I need you. And I do so much for you, by the way. I learned Spanish so it will be easier to travel and communicate with strangers, I am studying International Studies, for goodness sake, so that we can learn how to be better global citizens and how to work for more than just some stupid corporation… so we can live for something, you know? So that after I get my degree, we can peace out. We can live in Alaska and count fish, or we can go to New Zealand and live on an organic farm, or we can Couch Surf our way across Europe, you know? I am doing all this for YOU, Nomadic Me. You have some nerve, you know, showing up this late at night, making my day all crappy.”

“You need me too, you know.”

“That’s true. But still, I do a whole hell of a lot. My life is filled to the brim with things to be done, places to see, and you have to just LISTEN when I tell you that being sedentary for awhile is okay. I know we have been in Moscow over a year, and that you start to FREAK OUT at me when that one year marker goes by, but just chill out. Chill.”

“I have been chilling for a long time, D. I need to breathe, to see things, to meet people, to be filled with experience, to be a stranger in a land that you don’t have memorized. I need to hitchhike, to turn with my arms out to the open road, to put unconditional trust in humankind. You need all that too. I am you, by the way.”

“Now who’s the smart ass?”

“Me. Day, I love you. You know how beautifully made you are, and the way your soul is built is not a bad thing. Most people can survive and stay where they are. We were never that way. From day one you colored outside the lines –“

“Because I suck at art.”

“-you took your inflatable globe of the world and planned your life out. You wanted that, even then. You wanted to learn languages and find out more of yourself. The world will teach us what we need to know, why the hell are we still in school?”

“I need a degree.”

“Bull sh-.”

“No, that’s what the economy is. A degree is different. A degree is smart. Ask any college graduate.”

“Yeah, and hey, while you’re doing that, can you ask them how those student loan payments are going?”

“I’m serious, I need one.”

“No, you like learning, so you like school. But you don’t need to be here, Day, here in Moscow. You don’t need to have a stupid piece of paper to tell you that you can do good in the world. You don’t want money later in life, really, so what’s the point? People do it for job security, so they can get paid more, which makes sense. But if you don’t care about money and would live in a shack in Nicaragua, then why? So Mom and Dad will be happy with where you are at, and will say they are proud of you? So your friends that are already graduating anyway will think of you their equal? You already ARE their equal. Cut it out.”

“That’s not true.”

“It IS true. Stop being so defensive and listen to me. You want to travel, right?”

(sigh) “Sure.”

“Yes, you do. So, go teach English abroad. Go hitchhike for a weekend just to get your ass out of Moscow. I JUST NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!!”
“Calm yourself. Well, calm, me. We’re gonna work this out.”

“Woo, sorry. Freaked out.”

“I know, it’s fine. We’re cool. We will make a plan. We will get out of this awful place that we still are somehow madly in love with. I just need some time. Some space.”

“You have HAD your space, it’s my turn now.”

“There are no turns.”

“There are SO turns.”

“I will make a plan, don’t worry about it. We will save a few bucks and go to Spokane.”

“Not Spokane again.”

“Spokane. Or Seattle. Or someplace. Maybe find a way to get back to Azusa. I promise you this, we will not be stagnant or sedentary, we will not settle and we will not turn into a degree-seeking person. I mean, we will seek a degree, but that’s not what we’re all about, it’s just a way of getting there. And we will get there. We will go back to Andelfingen and see the sunset over the Alps, and we will go back to Valencia, and you will get to breathe the air of Eastern Europe, and feel the South American spirit floating through the Andes. I will not forget you, and you will not die out like so many dreams do. You are part of me, you know. And I do need you. People think I’m exaggerating when I say that my only passion is to travel and to see things and help people… they think it’s just A passion, or A thing that I love. No, it’s more than that. You take up more of my heart, my thoughts and my time than anything else in this world. This is who I am. I was meant to be a nomad, to be homeless, to live everywhere and nowhere at the same time, to throw away these stupid materialistic lives we get sucked up in, to sell it all and just go. To live on the road, and make money doing odd jobs and meet amazing people doing it.”

“Thanks Day. I really missed you. So, now that you have all that out… you won’t forget me?”

“I really never could, even if I wanted to. I promise.”

on the boulder in central park by the bridge at midnight

2009-04-19T22:47:00.001-07:00

I have wandered.

I have wandered and it has been beautiful. With the chilly air on my bare toes, sitting in Central Park on a boulder that was larger than life, looking at the skyline reflected in the water, the moon keeping me company, and the moving clouds a faded red from the city lights. I have seen. I have seen diversity, and more often than not I have seen beauty instead of ugliness. I have seen strangers become old friends, and I have seen beggars smile with all the riches of the world in their eyes. I have seen safety in what most would deem as dangerous, found comfort in the uncomfortable, found wisdom in what the high and lofty would deem as unwise.

I belong. As new-age as it sounds, as idealistic as I may seem, I have seen these things, and I have found that we are all connected. Somehow. I walk down the crowded streets, and the mostly-vacant ones, and as my eyes connect, I do something unexpected. I smile. Not the half-assed smile of a car salesman trying to sell you a Volvo, or the bartender that just wants her smoke break, but a brilliantly clear, honest-to-God, could-blind-you-in-a-blacklight smile.

And you know what happens?

They smile back.

Common courtesty? Sure, if you think so. What do I think? Connected. If I could spend the rest of my life just learning those connections, just finding that common thread in our clashing tapestries, just discovering new ways to be human and embrace that we are all messed-up and royally complicated... If I could do all those things, then I would die happy and complete, fulfilled in knowing that I learned this world and its people the best I could.

I think I will.

on five noble trees and monopoly

2009-02-23T13:15:00.000-08:00

I sip from my coffee cup slowly and feel the cool air hit my face and play in my hair.

I like our deck, but sometimes it feels too big for me; like I'm out in the open and exposed. Without any buildings nearby I feel a bit naked in front of the crowd. There are five very noble trees facing me in a row that I sometimes think are watching me... sometimes keeping me company, and other times just making me feel more alone. The wind blows and I can hear chimes singing someplace distant and the trees look like they are waving at me. I pull my jacket closer and cling to my coffee cup.

I wonder of life and it’s tragedies, of love lived and love lost, and then I stop to wonder if life is a game and I am playing it wrong; if I’m missing a game piece or not passing ‘Go’ and collecting two hundred dollars when I should. It could also be that I think life is a game when it’s really very serious and shouldn’t be taken lightly. Most likely, it could be that I’m too analytical and need to just be present and live in today, and take what I can from it and move forward.

I wonder if I am wrong sometimes because I look too far ahead in relationships and in planning in general. Today someone’s heart is hurting because of me, and mine feels devastated and broken too, but I feel like I don’t deserve to feel bad when it’s my own decision.

All day, while moping around and being a general downer, I have been asking myself one question. Why do we love, anyway?

Why do we let ourselves open up and share our own humanness and vulnerability, when we have read the statistics, we have heard the stories, and we know how most of the stories end? Why do we put ourselves out there, risk our hearts and share our souls? It seems so funny that we are surprised when the honeymoon is over, because life is so full of endings as well as beginnings, and letdowns often seem to come more frequently than successes.

After dwelling excessively on this question all day, I have no answer except that which is my own. Maybe that’s the best answer, for me and for this weekend, and tonight, and all of the hours I have spent over-thinking and asking myself if I am really being wise after all.

I have loved before, and lost just as often, but I think what is beautiful is who I am becoming through all of this, and who I am turning out to be. I think love is a choice and not a feeling. It’s that broken thing that all those movies are talking about, that love songs on the radio are singing about, and that people spend a lifetime trying to find and then another lifetime trying to figure out.

I think the reason we were born looking for love is because we inherently know that we need it. In our humanness we know that most of what we need to learn in life is not of ourselves… that the lessons we have to offer up to others pale in comparison with what others can teach us. It hurts when we lose and are let down, but the reason we keep getting back up is so we can try again. We might fall, we might fail, but we persist because we are always learning things, and sometimes we walk away from a relationship with a newfound sense of self and of what is real and true in life. Some people have taught me to laugh. Some have taught me how to cry and how to fear being alone, and others have taught me to dance and to just be Dayna, in all of her beauty, depth and imperfection.

Pain is real and true, and as deep as the sea, and as I’m sinking into it I’m beginning to talk with it, to feel it, to swim in it and to know that even though it is haunting and piercing it is also turning me slowly into something more polished and beautiful. For now rest is far from me and I am sleepless and contemplative, but maybe my soul can find rest in that. Let’s hope it can.

on life and hiro nakamura

2009-02-04T00:58:00.000-08:00

So beautiful.

Life, you are so beautiful, but you are so difficult and hard to understand sometimes.

Even when you are lovely and I am happy
-even when all is going according to plan –
you can find a way of baffling me.
Maybe there are worse things in life.
Maybe bigger struggles exist in this crazy world
than a silly girl trying to understand
what philosophers have spent lifetimes trying to spill out on paper.

Life, you are so beautiful, but I do not understand you.
If I have no time to waste – if you are as fleeting as I keep hearing –
then why am I sitting around?
Why haven’t I grabbed my backpack, sold my car, and fled the country?
Why do I spend time here when the world is waiting?
I’m sure Mexico wouldn’t mind someone immigrating south for a change.
As you know, I’m quite certain I would love it there.

Life, you are so beautiful, but sometimes I just can’t understand you.
Why change and why memories?
Why seasons and why trouble?
Why War instead of Peace? Hate instead of Love?
Why do the ones I love seem far-off and my dreams so many years away?
Why can’t I sell my possessions and go live as a nomad?
Contrary to popular belief, I still think I would be a great nomad.

It’s so funny, you and I. Even on my happiest days, with the deepest conversations,
I am wondering of my purpose and my plans.
I am nostalgic and simultaneously living in the future.
Top that, Hiro Nakamura. My space/time continuum is more messed up.

But, seriously, Life.
I love you a bit more every day, with your sunrises and the people I meet.
I love that I am living you with purpose.
Tan bella.

Vida, eres tan bella, pero difícil, y a veces no te puedo entender.
Cuando eres hermosa y me siento feliz,
todavía me confundes.

He vivido de una manera diferente a los demás…
lo he intentado todo.
Pero supongo que lo mío es vivir, como si fuera el último día.
Ayúdame. No puedo entenderte.
Así es.
And that’s okay.

on things that move me and nickles and dimes

2009-01-21T10:13:00.000-08:00

I love things that move me.

Sometimes it’s that glint of sunshine on my windowpane in the morning when all I had expected was a cloudy sky. Other times it is passionate conversation of politics, spirituality, feeding the hungry and seeing places far-off and foreign. Lately I have found that, more often than not, it is my life that is moving me and making me feel deeply more than anything else.

Granted, I am learning what it truly means to be your run-of-the-mill college student who pays for gasoline with quarters (and occasionally a handful of dimes that warrants a glare from the attendant). Despite sorting through every stash of change I can manage to find, my gas tank is usually no more than a bit above empty, and in my waking hours I am finding myself on campus more than in my apartment. I don’t have more than thirty dollars to my name (though if my negative balances and loans were reversed I would be very well-off for quite some time). I have yet to finish unpacking the daunting task that is my new bedroom, and there is always the voice screaming in the back of my mind that I should be picking up more shifts at work, getting another job, making more time for friends or even just for myself and my own heart.

But I cannot recall feeling this contented and learned and just… well, happy, in such a very long time. Using the word ‘happy’ feels like such a copout. In Spanish, I think it sounds more beautiful. Happiness. Felicidad. Finalmente, he encontrado felicidad. Finally, I have found happiness. Granted, happiness is an emotion and it is fleeting, and tomorrow I may be a thousand miles away from that sporadic feeling, but this week, this month, this moment and today… I have found it. I can rest in that.

I think if I would have stayed on the straight and narrow of academia – gone straight to school and skipped out on Europe, travel and other nomadic activities (and not instilled the fear in my parents that I would become a career-waitress and never recognize my potential) – I would not love school nearly as much or as profoundly.

I love my major. I love it a little more every time I walk through the Admin and see staff that is happy to see me and wave hello. I love that it feels like I have a support network and a family of sorts. I love that every class I have is filled with open eyes and open hearts that crave the things that I do… travel, feeding the hungry, adventure, compassion, politics, foreign cultures and languages. I love walking on campus when traces of snow still linger at the foot of the fading brick buildings, and I love it when I run into familiar faces that I somehow know after just a single semester here. I love that I am too busy to be stagnant and complacent. I am thankful that my classes are already challenging beliefs and my preconceived notions of the world, inviting me to become well-rounded and aware. I love that I am in a relationship that allows me to be busy unapologetically, that he and I can be content sitting in the same room together but focusing on essays and reading textbooks.

I am thankful for today. My eyes were heavy most of the day (much like they are right now, but that’s what I get for waking up two hours early to watch the inauguration), and I spent three hours in a library before trotting off to class, but I came home to a warm apartment that already has the personality of a home, and a roommate that I love living with so far. I have small quantities of food to eat when I wake up in the morning. I start work again tomorrow after a full day of classes. I will wake up bright and early, and probably be exhausted by the time I throw my keys on my desk after walking in the door.

It has the possibility of sounding like a drag, especially with my less-than-avid description, but my life has structure and purpose and meaning. That in itself makes it a thousand times easier to pull myself out of bed in the morning. I have lectures that I don’t want to miss, assignments to conquer, a man that I love spending time with, and a fireplace to curl up next to when I get home.

Life doesn’t get much better than mine is right now.

God, thanks for today. I loved it.

on lacking resolution

2009-01-15T12:37:00.000-08:00

Dear 2009,

I won’t lie, sometimes the idea of you frightens me.

It’s not because the years before you have not been good to me, but because with the way things seem to change in this swiftly-tilting world, I never know where I will be when you are over. But, as 2008 will tell you, I have been working on consistency, being balanced, and trying to stay in one place (I have been in Moscow for almost 17 months, which is a record since being on my own). It’s not that I’ve given up being a nomad or my passion for travel, people and languages. On the contrary, I have found that the quickest way to get where I am longing to go is through higher education and a degree in International Studies. Besides, Ecuador and Peru are waiting for me once your reign is over next January (knock on wood), and after that it’s just one more year until I can spread my wings, pack my bags, and set off on the grand adventure that will be my life.

So keep me focused 2009, because usually once March slips away into spring I find myself craving the kiss of summer and the rays of the sunshine playing on my face. Maybe it’s that lingering bit of California in my veins. Don’t let me slip into stagnancy in my schoolwork, and let your sunrises remind me that every day is new and spilling over with opportunities to change myself and the world around me.

Here are some hopes that I have for us and our relationship during your stay in my life: I hope that your days are beautiful and that I don’t waste them with empty words or broken promises. I hope that you give me rain as well as sunshine, so I can live deeply and know that regardless of the demons I am wrestling, it will all give way to brilliant and beautiful light again soon enough.

I hope you continue to teach me, as last year did, that listening is a more attractive quality than being filled with self and always knowing the right things to say. I hope that you help me learn humility and honesty, letting my pride give way to something more well-rounded and wise.

I hope the journey we are on together is one worth retelling someday, filled with mystery and wonder, new lessons learned and new faces to carry with me always. I hope the path I am walking is one that will radiate love and understanding, compassion and open-mindedness. I hope that I learn the uselessness of possessions, the depths of friendship, the fragility of my existence, the power of my mind, the hope in perseverance, and that life is as beautiful as I let it become.

Welcome 2009, it’s nice to meet you, and thank you for your lack of annoyance at my refusal to make resolutions this year. I am appreciating your kindness already.

on resolving my resolution

2009-01-03T00:20:00.000-08:00

On the 3rd day of last year – exactly one year ago today - I wrote a blog called ‘On Resolution.’

I don’t think of resolutions as things that are concrete or things that will give me reason to deem myself a failure if left undone. I don’t believe in social trends that come and go (not to say that I have never bought into them myself), and I don’t think all of life’s problems can be solved by losing weight or changing your fashion sense. I also don’t think, as my best friend does, that people who set resolutions are morons (I laughed out loud when I read that, but only because I love you so much my Natalie).

I do think it’s important to set goals, however, even if those goals end up changing, or turning out to be not-so-important in the long run. On this note, here is 2008:

~

Be more socially active instead of asleep. Read articles. Learn geography. Challenge yourself to be involved in the world any way you can, even if it's uncomfortable. Check. Thanks to a geography quizzing website, I am now knowledgeable about many areas I was clueless about before… Eastern Europe, Asia, Oceania, and all those random countries in Africa that actually do exist. If you feel so inspired: www.lizardpoint.com/fun/geoquiz/. Getting involved can weigh heavily on your heart, especially when you begin to learn about concentrated wealth and how very easy it would be so solve third world issues if the wealthy of the world thought as one.

Strive to be more organized. Who knew that Dayna would turn into an anal-retentive, not-always-fun-to-be-around roommate who flips out when she occasionally has to do dishes or step in a plate of chicken. Check; but I may have taken it too far (Thanks to Adrienne and Senja for always putting up with my weirdness and my newfound love of bleach and Windex).

Begin to collect ideas for a book. Compile them in a notebook labeled 'Memoirs of a Life Deliberately Lived.' Then try to promote consistency by living deliberately. Sort of a check, I collected ideas for a book, didn’t label them though, I felt like my life is too outrageously spontaneous and random to fit into one title. I sort of lived deliberately…

Intentionally befriend people who defy social norms. One or two checks. No names though.

Frequent pawn shops and garage sales, and start collecting records. Organize them by artist, color, genre, or date released. This will perhaps help with the enjoyment of the organization. Upon rediscovering the typical ‘starving college student lifestyle,’ and paying for meals in quarters on occasion, this aspiration was promptly discarded.

Begin to read more foreign authors. Search for perspectives you may not have experienced before. Soak in the themes and even if they seem too complicated, try to get what you can from them. No checks here, though I did really enjoy some poems by Spanish-speaking authors, particularly ‘Bajo un Palmar’ by Pedro Flores Córdova.

Play guitar with a homeless person.< Check. Summer 2008, Seattle.

Dwell in scripture; not in the amount read or the pages you turn in a day, but in the content of the message, and the weight of the words. Do not underline what is read, in case someone else might notice. Try to let it rest in your heart. Nope.

Everything is going to be fine. Work on realizing this when in a bind or having a rough day. I would like to say I have discovered the secret of not being stressed out or turning into an occasional basket case, but as of a few weeks ago, while trying to move and find a way over the pass, while working 30 hours a week and studying for finals… and subsequently wanting to end my life, I am okay with not checking this one.

Attempt to understand the subtle nuances between coffee blends. Also, and probably more socially helpful, wine. It would be nice to learn more about wine; goes nicely with cheese. No checks, and no newfound knowledge about coffee (except that really cheap, pre-ground coffee from Winco starts to sound really good after paying for Starbucks drinks in quarters). I do, however, still claim that wine goes nicely with cheese. A few new favorite wines of the past year: Zen of Zin, Big Red Monster, Lo Tengo, Martinsancho Verdejo, Prosperity Merlot, and 3 Blind Moose. Most are affordable occasionally for the average college student.

Learn how to photograph professionally. Not just take pictures, but to capture the essence of someone's heart in a frame. I would especially like more pictures of inanimate objects, sunsets, and facial expressions. Perhaps this is not the most pressing issue in my life.

Give more. Whether that means around the house I live in, my family, financially, or the giving of my time to organizations that need it. Could’ve done better.

Listen more. Talk less. I have heard (from Shani) that I am getting better at this. I definitely still have a long way to go, but I have made some headway.

Write as often as inspiration strikes; a sunrise, an open door, a brightly painted windowpane... create, be moved, help to move others, be inspired and open. I wrote a lot this year, and am proud of most of it.

Get at least another semester of school done. If financially possible, finish your AA. I think this was my favorite thing to finish this year… I managed to get a 3.0 GPA, which could have been higher, but I am just content to be back in school and chasing after what I want to do in life.

Reach the intermediete level of the Italian language. Spanish is great, and when you begin to struggle with the nuances of a different tongue, try to realize the benefits you will reap when you can carry on a meaningful conversation with millions more people than you could have before.< Upon getting back into school, I did, in fact, decide that pursuing fluency in Spanish was more important and useful to me than Italian right now. I would love to learn it someday, it is such a beautiful language, but I decided that I have my lingual hands full for now.

Think of something more creative than stickers and pictures to send to my 3 sponsored kids. They are in need, and they deserve the best. Poor kids.

Write a song of thanks and gratitude for someone else and the impact they have had on your life. I did start writing one for Popo, my grandpa, if that counts. And I sang my mom the song I wrote her two years ago for Mother’s Day…

Host a Compassion Day at church. There’s always next year.

Make amends with people you have wronged in your past. Whether that is asking forgiveness or letting them know you care. I wasn’t stellar in this area.

Live with purpose and stand for things that need defending: children with empty bellies, families with no roof over their heads, stories that need to be told, and hearts that need friends.< I genuinely, honestly, feel like I am doing this. Finally! The entire focus of my education right now is learning about the international community, and what will come of that eventually will hopefully be a career that I can actually help people with… not help people that just want to make more money… not help the people that don’t need it… not putting more money in the pockets of the world’s wealthy… not working for a self-serving company… but finding solutions to get a step closer to eradicating poverty, getting water to villages in Africa, pushing for peace over violence, and most of all trying to make sure that we as a generation did the best we could with what we were given.

Live intentionally. Love more and more unconditionally. I believe this phrase will always need working on, and it’s a lifelong pursuit. For all of us.

Welcome 2008. I think we will get along just fine.< For the most part, I think we did. On to the next adventure…

on adrienne and my constant

2008-12-17T00:39:00.001-08:00

Adrienne,

You are beauty.

Those are the first words that come to mind as I sit trying to think of what to write of you, of wishes I have for you, and things I remember and love about you. You are beautiful; who you are becoming is beautiful, and so is the person that I have known since day one.

It’s hard to believe there are only a few days left before you pack up in the car and we drive off our separate ways. I know you’re coming back; I know that our friendship is deeper than distance in miles or measurements. I’m not worried about losing you. At the same time, though, I realize that this era, this year of our lives together… it’s done. This is an ending, but also a stunning and brilliant beginning. When we reunite and have the chance to live together again, life will have taken us down different roads, both good and bad. Who knows what those paths will be… who knows what mistakes and triumphs we will have felt.

I know that when you read this you will smile and chuckle on the inside, calling me the nostalgic one between the two of us, especially with such finality seemingly ringing in my words. I guess it’s because I know more than most that so many things can change so quickly, and I am saying goodbye to you with the understanding that we may not get the chance to walk in the door and call eachother ‘roommate’ again. Things change, and that’s okay. I am at peace with whatever future awaits us.

Adrienne Salome, you have changed me (in a good way). So much will I take with me of you, wherever I go, and so many memories I guarantee I will laugh about for years to come. There was turning our balcony into a nest of blankets and sleeping outside all summer under the stars, a drive to Seattle with our bare feet out the open windows and the music loud, becoming close to our neighbors, sitting in the stairwell bundled up in blankets as summer began to slip into autumn.

The most beautiful about your spirit and your heart, though, is not that you were there on the sunny days. You were also there when it rained; when it poured. You were the shoulder I depended on during the most hurtful and drawn-out breakup of my life; you were the one who told me I was not being the intellignt woman I was designed to be; you were the one who curled up next to me on the floor when I found out that a love from long ago was engaged; you were the one who made sure I finished the application to get back into school to pursue my dreams; and more often than not you were the one to set me straight and tell me I was meant for something more.

What might top the cake is tonight. The walls in our apartment are stripped and boxes line the walls where our furniture used to be. It doesn’t look like home anymore. Our lives are packed tightly in cardboard and duct tape, ready to be whisked away to wherever we are headed next. You and I pulled the couch to our sliding glass doors to look out at the brilliance of the fresh snow on the mountain and over the city lights. We put on our shoes, bundled up in blankets, and flung the door wide, just to feel the 7˚ winter wind in our faces and know that we were alive. We turned the music up loud, you put your head on my shoulder, and every few minutes we would sigh. Several moments of silence passed us by.

“How are you?” You asked me.
“I’m happy. Content with where I am at,” I replied.
“I am too. I can feel that God is bigger, and that He is in control, and that His plan is bigger than mine.”

We sat in silence and let the wind sting our face, taking in every word and gust of the breeze. It was simple, but it was one of my favorite memories with you; finding contentedness in life’s small pleasures and moments of peace.

Adrienne Salome Forsythe, you are valient and fearless. I know you admire those traits in others, but I have found them in you. You are my soulmate, my other half, my best confidant and secret-keeper. If I show up out on the town by myself, there is something missing, and everyone knows it. They ask me where you are, why we are apart, why we are doing our own thing. Even the world knows that I was not meant to be having the time of my life without you.

You have been my constant, my deepest friend, my fellow nomad, and the heart beating for the both of ours when my own seemed to flicker and fade.

Thank you. I love you. I can’t wait to see where the road of life takes us.

on beautiful days and giving thanks

2008-11-23T18:54:00.000-08:00

It was a beautiful day.

It was one of those days where you keep trying to take a photograph in your mind of every moving moment and every time the light from the sun catches on your face. A day when finally your soul can rest in the comfort of converation and cups of coffee, when the people you are with are the people you love and the sky seems so wide and full of wonder.

I am so blessed. Some people say lucky, and others say fortunate, but I feel like those words can be a copout because they don’t imply that what you have is given from someplace else.

Two friends and I drove up to Spokane today to take my roommate Adrienne to the airport, to kiss her forehead and tell her we loved her and can’t wait til she is back with us. The dimensions these friends and neighbors of mine have been constantly adding to my life lately is astounding; I keep being amazed by the grace they have for me and that we have for each other ever day. It’s like every day another layer of ourselves is pushed aside so we can grow deeper and closer and more real.

To be honest, my heart craves to leave Moscow some days. I feel suffocated here sometimes, with the nearest city being over an hour away, and where I can’t go anyplace without running into a familiar face. Sometimes I feel like I am trapped, and I look at the next two or three years I will spend at the University of Idaho as a neverending stretch of time.

But more often than not, I realize that my life has found the consistency that it has been lacking for so long. This place, Moscow, is where I belong right now. I realize that these friends – these people I have been able to surround myself with – are my lifelines. My constants. My makeshift and dysfunctional family that supports and loves one another no matter what goes down, no matter who or what wins the battle. And sometimes we fall short, and we lose, and we are let down. But I think that’s okay.

I think we are learning through the rain to appreciate days like today even more deeply. A day when I start my morning dancing with my roommate to Aretha Franklin and ACDC in our pajamas, and cups of coffee with pumpkin creamer sit beside me while I open the shades to let the sun shine in to flood our apartment. A day when my friends and I serenade my mother over the phone singing ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,’ and when the open road in front of you seems like the most wonderful thing on earth.

Thanksgiving week is here and soon the day will come crashing in around us and be gone again without warning.

But when I give thanks, I give thanks for today.

I am thankful for this moment, new beginnings, for my friends and neighbors that have come to support me through the sleepless nights and the rainy days. I give thanks for right now, for the ability to change and to be changed, for how bright the sun can shine, even in my small town, and even in November.

It is true; I am exactly where I was meant to be, and for that, I am grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

on fighting for the logical and late-night revelations

2008-11-14T19:07:00.000-08:00

I lose myself in thoughts sometimes. Times like tonight.

Trying to be profound and say all the right things. Trying to spill my heart out in a way that is appropriate and politically-correct. I fight for the logical, wanting to badly to make sense of all these things, of all these events and people and places around me.

I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that life doesn't make sense.

I'm finally beginning to realize that I can't control other people. I can't make them want me, I can't make them be friends with me, and most of all, I can't always be friends with everyone in life, no matter how challenging that is for a people-lover like myself. For someone that is used to being the girl everyone wants to be buddies with, that is becoming difficult for me. To know that my actions don't always define what will become of something. To know that I am not always supposed to steal the show and know all the right things to say and when to say them.

It's not about me.

It's even hard to see that spelled out in black and white, because in our culture we are so accustomed to fighting for our individuality. We are raised and trained-up to want to be recognized. In our country especially, we whore ourselves out to the spotlight, wanting to draw attention in whatever way we can. Uniqueness is a wonderful thing, and life would be monotonous without it, but I am finding that there are some things that are more important. Recognizing the everyday blessings, seizing what is nearest and making the most of it, loving the friends that you have and the place you are at in life.

That is difficult for me, lately. Though I'm not sure why.

Maybe it's because for the first time in my life, I actually care what people think about me. I actually worry about it. This is odd, because one of the things I have always taken pride in is my self-reliance, my confidence and security in who I am and what I am chasing after in life. I am still chasing after those things, but I doubt myself some days. I doubt that I am beautiful, that others think I am beautiful, that I am worth chasing after and pursuing. It's not that I don't have people interested in me, it's just that it doesn't seem genuine, and usually they are intoxicated or desperate - sometimes a frightening combination of the two. Finding men-folk to hang out with that can actually carry on a profound and meaningful conversation are few and far between, let alone ones that I am attracted to and that feel the same way.

It's not all about intimate relationships, though. Then again, it rarely is. And, as previously established, it's not about me.

What is it all about, then?

I often think that it is love; that this is the one thing that makes us different from animals and our ancestors. We have the ability to love, to be self-aware, to extend that love to others and to see the fruits of that as we grow older and have deeper and more meaningful relationships with others. I find that the older I get the easier it is to spill out my life stories to whoever wants to hear them, unashamedly. Because I love where I have been, where I am at and where I am going. That's it. Life is about love. Love of neighbor, country, yourself, and dreams.

One of the things I love about Spanish is how it differentiates between different kinds of love, and for this reason I feel like that language is so much more expressive and passionate about deep thought and emotion. In English, we say we love our spouse and that we love food in the same sentence. We equate how we feel about a movie with how we care about our deepest friend. In Spanish, they have a word for loving an inanimate thing, for liking a thing, for being in the midst of falling in love with someone, and for actually being in love with someone. The verb for loving a sandwich or the weather is a completely different and unrelated word to the love you have for human beings and for lovers. I love that.

Yes. That's it. It's all about love. Love is all you need (mentally humming the Beatles).

That's my 2:45 revelation for today. Tune in next week for my views on developing nations and indigenous rights (not really).

on ethics and preserving the yanomami

2008-11-07T04:39:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish I didn’t care so much.

At times I wish that I had the ability to turn off compassion, to be able to sleep at night even knowing that others are suffering. That's probably not true, in reality. But I am sleepless, yet again, and for a group of indigenous people I have never met.

In my anthropology class we are involved in a project designed to bring attention to one of the field’s biggest controversies – the Yanomami people of Brazil and Venezuela, and their plea to the international community for help. In the 1980’s, anthropologist Chagnon and genealogist Neel took blood samples from these indigenous people, offering to trade them goods and weapons in exchange for their blood. They promised them that it was for medical research; to find out more about the Yanomami people and their diseases and more importantly, to help them find a cure that would improve the quality of life among their people.

In short (very short), because I spent twelve hours reading up on this today and have no good way to sum it up, here is what I learned:

The Yanomami have had no results back, and have received little to no assistance with the epidemics they are facing because of the exposure to the team back in the 1980’s. Neel has been accused of intentionally giving them inappropriate doses of a vaccine to see how it affected them, while Chagnon has been accused of dishonesty while gathering the samples, not getting adequate permission to use them as he intended, and for misrepresenting this group as an overly-violent people.

What’s even more disturbing, in Yanomami culture, all remains of their deceased are to be destroyed. If this is not carried out, they believe that the dead will wander, unable to leave earth, and will furthermore cause problems among the living out of anger for their part in keeping them from eternity. This is as foundational a belief to them as Heaven and Hell is to most of us in our culture. Today, the blood samples taken decades ago are still being stored throughout several locations and universities in the United States, and some Yanomami are outraged. No one told them that the samples would continue to exist, even some beyond their donors’ deaths, and some claim that they were deceived into thinking differently by the scientists.

Again, in short, I am sleepless tonight thinking of all the sleepless nights these people must have endured, knowing that their loved ones are not at rest, that they were deceived because of their previous lack of exposure to the Western world. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep knowing that mothers have mourned their children, without knowing if samples of their blood were still in existence someplace else, preventing them from their designed course into afterlife. It is as hauntingly and terribly moving as thinking of our loved ones in hell. And it could be prevented.

I am not claiming I believe or find personal merit in any of their religious beliefs, but in a practice like anthropology where ethics and honesty should be key, there is something deeply disturbing to me about this whole situation. It is unethical. It is dishonest. It is destroying the culture of a people most have never heard of. Most of all, it’s just wrong.

Here is the letter I wrote as my assignment… it is a joint letter to Dr. Joseph Fraumeni (of the National Cancer Institute which is facilitating the return of the blood samples on the American side) and to Carlos Eduardo Oliveira (the key official on the Brazilian government’s side) to try and urge them to sign the waiver to begin negotiations to find a way to resolve this issue. I spent hours on it, so I figured I would post it just in case anyone cares enough to research it a little on their own and see what they can do. Pressure from university students nation-wide is what prompted negotiations in the first place.

Think what we could accomplish if more people were aware, eyes open and listening.

Here is the letter I submitted for my assignment.

-----

Dear Dr. Fraumeni and Mr. Oliveira,

There are many controversies in the field of anthropology demanding attention. There are many issues, on large and smaller scales, all crying out for the day when they will reach resolution. It is understandable that proceedings for any of these items are carried out cautiously and with ample time for the voices of all parties to be heard. One cannot deny the importance, however, of an immediate intervention in the case of the Yanomami people. I am writing today in hopes of turning your attention toward the urgency of their predicament; inspiring you to take action and sign the pending waiver agreement as quickly as possible so that one of today's most pertinent anthropological issues may be one step closer to reaching resolution.

First off, when looking at this issue in its entirety, the "Do No Harm" standard should not only encompass physical or tangible harm but also that of emotional and spiritual well-being. I, personally, believe that part of the beauty in anthropology itself is that it studies not only the physical properties of the human race, but also the importance of their beliefs, ideologies, customs and religions. The American Anthropological Association clearly states in its Code of Ethics that “researchers must do everything in their power to ensure that their research does not harm the… dignity, or privacy of the people with whom they work, conduct research, or perform other professional activities” (AAA 1998). How can one deny, then, the significance of honoring the religious beliefs and customs of the Yanomami?

I have recently been provided with ample information and resources on the subject of the Yanomami and the storage of their blood samples in various facilities across the United States, and have been moved by their plight for our international attention and action. In our culture here in America (and in many other countries worldwide) it is customary to bury our dead, to join together with others in reverence for their lives, and to know that they are resting safely in whatever eternity we believe awaits them. If that right were to be taken away, what consequences and what turmoil would that stir up in the hearts of the affected? We would feel violated - we would cry out, we would stand up, and we would make our voices heard.

Unfortunately, the Yanomami do not have access to the same resources or technology that much of the world is now accustomed to. It is much more difficult to make your opinions heard in the international community without these things, and thus they are looking to influential leaders like yourselves to help further their cause and amplify their voices. I am asking you on their behalf because I believe that without ethics and respect for other cultures and beliefs, the foundation of anthropology is no foundation at all. Regardless of the original intentions for use of the blood samples by other individuals, the power to formally return them and to initiate proceedings to resolve this issue lies in your hands.

All in all, I know that I do not have all of the answers - I, personally, have little say or influence in Yanomami affairs. Being aware of your key position in this matter, however, I encourage you to take into consideration the burden this situation has placed on the shoulders of the Yanomami and the way it has challenged and upset their very core beliefs about life, death and spirituality. The responsibility to act has been entrusted to you, and I believe that a resolution in the not-so-distant future is very much within reach.

Sincerely and with hope,

Dayna Buri

on the good in me

2008-10-21T16:56:00.000-07:00

This was hard to make myself actually write, but I feel like I have been a downer lately, and that I should take better care of my soul. So this is for Me. Go me.

Positive things about me. In no order.

I am outgoing.
I have great friends.
I have a nice smile.
I am friendly, even when people sometimes aren’t friendly back.
I am faithful.
I have a heart for the poor and needy.
I am an intelligent, deep-thinker.
I have a great family.
I am a leader.
I laugh. A lot. And it spreads to others.
I give my time and effort to people that seem like they need friends.
I confront issues instead of being passive.
I have beautiful eyes.
I am fairly open-minded.
I don’t judge books by their covers.
I (have heard that I) am a good cuddler.
I am passionate.
I am not scared to show emotion, even if others think it is weakness.
I love all kinds of people.
I am, as a general rule, very upbeat and uplifting.
I love the little things.
I am usually the first to reach out to newcomers.
I try to be well-rounded by reading books and trying to learn from them.
I am a dreamer.
I have a great voice.
I can write songs that move people.
I have good fashion sense, though I usually can’t afford it.
I am always down to try new foods.
I do sweet things for other people to let them know that I love them.
I am back in school.
I have a roommate and neighbors who love me.
I know another language and am passionate about learning more of them.
I have a great sense of humor.
I know so many freaking people.
I work hard.
I would drive for hours if someone needed me.
I learn from mistakes, for the most part.
I like to share what I have, when I can.
I am attractive, inside and out, even if I don’t see that sometimes.
I love to dance.
I embrace the journey instead of a destination (usually).
I can write beautiful things.
I am getting better at calling people back and staying in touch.
I find beauty in the most random things.
I could, hypothetically, tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue.
This has yet to be proven.
I am good at taking pictures so I have things to look back on.

Things I need to work on but that are completely possible and within reach:

Having a consistent attitude instead of being so up or down
Working to be more passionate at my job
Being more responsible with my money
Give all I have to my schoolwork, all the time
Try not to take things personally
Find a job that pays the bills but where I am happy simulateously
Get in shape enough to where I feel more confident in myself
Keep my attitude in check when I am wronged or let down
Listening more
Not getting attached to friends or other relationships so easily
Get more sleep on the nights I need to
Work on my music more and use it as an outlet
Not being influenced as much by what people think of me
Be passionate still, but don’t settle into unguided passion
Finish school before I become a nomad and travel the world

See, me? You are actually really cool.

on the rare ocassion that I feel like a letdown

2008-10-02T01:46:00.000-07:00

Another night. Another sleepless one, no less.

I spent most of it sitting on my balcony with the cool air in my face and my enormous quilt wrapped around me. The Nyquil is making me drowsy, but sleep has yet to join me and I am lost in thoughts and my funk that I get in sometimes when things don’t seem to make sense.

I get down sometimes. It’s difficult to say why, and there usually isn’t just one reason, but every now and then when the lights go out in the rest of the world, my eyes stay open and my mind is awake and dreaming of different times and places.

Often I think of the beautiful moments, and the memories and life experience that make up who I am and I reflect on where I have been with fondness and nostalgia. But tonight, for some reason, all I can dwell on are the things out of my reach, and how much I have failed at so many things when I am still so young.

I turn twenty-two this month. Twenty-two. Somehow it has been ten years since the divorces, unfamiliar heartache, family drama and all those other nights that were sleepless, only for different reasons. Somehow I am growing more and more distant from the girl that I was, the girl whose old stories and writings I read to look back on, and the girl that was so much younger than I am now, but who seemed to know so much.

How did I get so far? How does a person completely, entirely change?

I am usually an optimist. While I used to struggle with thoughts like these constantly, it has been awhile since I have sat and counted myself as a letdown.

I am a bad friend. Not always, and not entirely, and it rarely goes mentioned, but the more I think about it the more that I realize that it must be increasingly difficult to be friends with me. I have a really hard time calling people back, or remembering to be there for them when they need me. I am a wanderer, and never seem to be happy where I am (take now, for instance). I can’t stay in one place for too long or I feel stagnant and sedentary. Moscow, for example? I feel like I’m suffocating in this place. I am nostalgic and wish for times past (even though when I was there, I most likely was feeling the same way about some other era of life). I can’t imagine what my friends go through, having to listen to the same stories over and over again, having to be there for me and be strong when all I want to do is break out of where I am and change the world.

Oh yeah, and my dreams are impossible. I want to go everywhere. Literally. I spent part of today looking at places to volunteer abroad, and narrowed my selection down to about fifteen or twenty places. I will, likely, never see most of those places. I can’t afford to travel when I can’t even afford to live where I am now.

And that’s another thing. How can one person be so terrible with finances? I am, literally, thousands of dollars in debt. Granted, a lot of it (most of it) is from school, but not in student loans, because I am ridiculous and didn’t research my options before decision-making. But I am working thirty hours a week, barely breaking even as it is, let alone making enough money to pay off minimum payments on a credit card that I never should have obtained in the first place. Now I have no car that functions (until I magically come up with money to buy a new alternator), no money to spend on anything except for very-cheap and inexpensive food, a cell phone that is insanely-simple and frequently runs out of minutes, leaving me feeling even more lonely that I was already. There is nothing worse than a night like tonight, when all you feel like is a failure, and all you want is to hear the voice of a friend that loves you, and you have no minutes to call people with.

Seriously. I have given up playing music as often because even some of my closest friends make me feel like it’s nothing special, especially when they say things like, ‘well I would compliment you on it, but I am really just as talented and we are the same, so I know we don’t really need that from one another’ or ‘when you play I think it’s just because you cling to that as something that will make people like you.’ No, that’s untrue. People like me very easily and I even gave up performing entirely for a long time to make sure that it wasn’t just a way to get attention. I was gifted with a really cool talent and ability, not just the ability to sing some notes, play some basic chords, and make them resonate correctly, and can actually write songs that make sense and move hearts, and I don’t use it. Not even a little bit. I sit on my own time, when no one is home and within earshot, and then and only then do I express myself the way that I used to. It is only then that I play real and sing out loud, because I don’t want to appear to be self-glorifying and conceited in front of others. So thank you world, now I have a complex.

Moving on.

Spirituality? I have no idea where I am at or where I am going, or what I even want from God. Even then, I’m not sure if he is still waiting around to listen after all of my bitter diatribes about me feeling badly when really I am just too lazy to chase after him. Honestly, a whole huge part of me wonders how it is that the entire world has thousands upon thousands of belief systems… what makes my specific choice the right one? Doesn’t every single person in the world feel that their convictions are the right ones, and that there is no possible way beyond the path they are walking? That their path is the true path to enlightenment and offers the best answers for the basic questions we all inherently have inside us? I do believe in God, and I do love him, but it is a love that is somehow always changing and being redefined by my experiences. I know that faith is the unwavering, illogical faith in what is unseen, but at the same time, how do you sleep at night knowing that if you die in the morning, you might have lived and died for all of the wrong reasons? I can’t sleep.

This fluxuates from month to month, but sometimes I drink a little too much and when I drink I am not a happy drunk the majority of the time. In fact, most of my biggest fights and tears have happened over alcohol. Might as well start calling me by my father’s name. And I have taken up the ocassional habit of smoking while in bars here in town, because they allow cigarettes. Mmm… breath that smells of ashtrays and the wafting scent of liquor.

Relationships? Oh don’t even get me started. I have been needy, desperate, dependent and relient, and while I wouldn’t say I am those things in my relationships now, I still always seem to seek out and find guys that are incompatible with me. Not better or worse, not angels or assholes, just different. Just wanting different things than the other could ever give them. How is that fair to either of us? Besides, if we both change to be what the other one needs, we will cease to be who we really are and will cease to chase what we really wanted in the first place.

But I digress, and I sincerely hope that this is Nyquil talking instead of myself (I really think it is, because reading over this, it doesn’t really sound like me at all, and I am bordering on exhaustion… and exhaustion without rest always means over-thinking).

So, just a recap: not a great friend, impossible dreams, lack of vehicular transportation, financial
disaster, ocassional-drunk, chain-smoking, musical dropout, spiritually-apathetic, relationally-retarded, nostalgic mess of a human being. Beyond all of those things, I also have the uncanny ability to be two-faced, can have a really bad work ethic, I procrastinate (though I do somehow manage to get everything done), I have problems following through, and I lie ocassionally to make myself look good.

The personal ad writes itself. I am going to bed now.

postscript: I know I have to 'be the change if you aren't happy' and 'be your own person' and 'follow your dreams' and 'explore your talents' and all of those cliches. I also am aware that they are mostly true. I just was up way too late to have anyone remind me.

on eyes opening and instilling curiousity

2008-09-26T02:33:00.001-07:00

Sometimes my life and my brain turn me to face strange directions.

I will think nothing of a topic for days at a time, then all at once it seems like all of my experiences, conversations, wonderings, and even topics in my classes seem to point me towards something. Indefinite as it may be, it’s just the concept in general that lingers there, somewhere in the back of my mind.

So, my friends, here is the concept of the moment: differences. Why are we created different, with diverse political opinions and varying aspirations and talents? What good does it serve? There is the cliché of the betterment of the general world, that we are all special in our own ways, that we all have the ability to make a difference. But beyond those stereotypical responses, what is left?

My sister, Brittany, and I chatted briefly last night about how differing we are; about how it is even possible that out of all the combinations of siblings we could have acquired by marriage, it was us. Polar opposites, inside and out. My petite and athletically-gifted sister has straight, blonde hair while I am taller with unruly brown hair and curls that can’t ever seem to stay put. But beyond the superficial and less-important, our differences lie in so many other areas.

Despite the many things we talked about, the one thing that resonated with me was how we agreed that our difference inspire one another. That when she is passionate about something, it make me passionate about it as well, or at least instills in me the curiosity and desire to find out why it is so important or applicable to her, and vice-versa.

I think that is beautiful.

Do we, as a general rule, function that way with the rest of the world? Seeking to understand passion that is not our own? Trying to examine the world through new eyes? By enlarge, I think that we don’t.

Maybe that’s the reason we are meant to be different and unique, swimming in the knowledge of our own individuality. To inspire. To put forth ideas and beliefs that are new and true and relevant. Open-mindedness does not mean changing your views or believing that right and wrong is different for everyone, just as it doesn’t mean conforming or subscribing to organized religion in order to see where they are coming from… it just means that your ears are open. That your heart is open to love, regardless of differences in culture, personality, or preferences. That you seek to be inspired instead of deterred by differences.

Sometimes I think our eyes have been closed our whole lives, and we are going about this thing all wrong.

I am going to try opening my eyes differently tomorrow.

(Or at least in five hours when I wake up to go to class...)

on cups of tea and old-fashioned letters

2008-09-26T02:00:00.001-07:00

Ah, relationships.

For whatever reason, I have been thinking of them today. My history, my memories, my photographs, the tattered, old-fashioned letters I keep stowed away. I have so many great things in my life, my friends and past-relationships being most of them. I have slips of paper with ‘I love you’ scrawled across them, from friends and loves that have come and passed.

I am coming to realize a few things about me lately. There are a lot of them. One of which is that I am happiest when I am in the company of someone else, and I tend to cling to relationships to define me. Another is that I am nostalgic to a fault.

My roommate and I sat out on our patio overlooking Moscow last night, the cool autumn wind in our faces. We curled our fingers around warm cups of tea, and enjoyed the rare treat of a cigarette. Bundled in blankets with my head on her shoulder, we admitted secrets to one another; secret worries about the other, musings about our lives and where we are going, and the always-necessary recounting of our separate experiences that day.

“You just always seem to be looking for what’s going to happen next; where you will live or your next relationship, or you are the polar opposite and dwell on what’s been and the places you have lived and want to return to. But you can never go back, really, and you need to be a whole person… I don’t think you have ever felt the need to be your own person outside of a relationship before. But I think you would like it,” she told me, “and I think you need to give it a try. Really give it a try.”

I felt like that’s what this past year has been spent trying to reach.

Parts of me know those things are true, for the most part. Relationships to me, while various other people see them as hard work or exhausting, are a challenge that I enjoy. It is a chance to be more than yourself, and to focus on letting that person know you care, and that you are invested in their life and their happiness. It gives you the chance to be thoughtful, to be considerate, and to realize things about yourself that you may not have found on your own.

But where is that balance?

Between being happiest in the company of others while learning to make your own happiness of the utmost importance? Between loving being with someone and feeling like you need them? Between hoping for the past and future while living in the present?

I would like to say that I know, but the answers are still hazy in my mind.

Going through the box of letters and memories today gave me gratitude for all the amazing men I have been able to date in my life, and all the different ways I have been blessed by them and inspired and driven by them. They each have their own place in my history, and a few ended painfully while others are still my closest friends. Granted, there are a few I with I hadn’t wasted so much time and emotion on. Granted, the endings weren’t always beautiful. It is definitely a funny thing, this life.

The truth is, I have loved a lot in my life, and been loved by many. In the grand scheme of things, that in itself makes me blessed.

In this process of becoming myself, this unending walk of mine, I wonder if I will get to a place where I can be content without needing to have the knowledge that someone is content with me and thinks I am lovely. Who I am should assure my soul that I am safe. That I am beautiful. That I am cared for and appreciated regardless of circumstance or status.

But on nights like tonight, I just want someone to sing me a love song. I hope that’s okay.

on developing nations and the morning breaking

2008-09-19T04:55:00.000-07:00

It is four a.m., and the morning is breaking but sleep is far from my mind.

I spent my late-night moments composing a speech to give to my United Nations class just a few short hours from now, and there is something stirred so passionately inside me that keeps me awake and wondering. Tonight, more than ever, I am thankful that I am pursuing a career and an educational journey with the purpose of working towards betterment in the world instead of just my own personal gain and interest, my own eventual wealth and accumulation; how empty that would feel and how fruitless it would be, in my own heart at the very least.

In a few of my classes we are studying developing nations and smaller-scale communities that most people have never heard of that live in the outreaches of the civilized world. I have been reading about how they function and breathe, how they form relationships and how they make do with what little they have, and it is so interesting to think of how little we know of what they live daily.

The funny thing is, when we hear about people like the Australian Aboriginees, or the San people in the Kalihari Desert, we think of them as uncivilized and in need of our assistence to help 'catch them up' to the present day, so to speak. We think of them as our pet-project that needs a helping hand to become just like us economically, socially, spiritually and educationally.

What often goes unrealized is how beautiful simplicity is. In my own mind, at least, I have always assumed that hunting and gathering groups lived a rough life and must spend days on end just scavenging for food, living in unrest and in relentless pursuit of life's necessities. What is really never presented to us is that they really only spent three to five hours a day collecting food in an intricately-organized plan to minimize effort. They live this way so that the rest of their afternoons and evenings may be spent focusing on what is important: relationships and conversation, story-telling and feasting together on the things they are thankful for. They have more complex kinship systems than we do, with more elaborate ways of categorizing relatives and more ways to interact in an egalitarian society where no individual is elevated above the rest of the group (though I'm sure there were exceptions).

How amazing it would be if we still all felt equal. If instead of working for yourself and your own friends or family, you give what you have to the group and it is shared equally. So if one person is unsuccessful, it goes unnoticed because of the achievement of someone else. I am well aware that in our society today, that would never work, I am not implying that at all (save the speech). Most people would have an issue with that today because they would have no chance to stand out or shine, to 'show what they've got,' so to speak, and would get consumed in not getting noticed and not getting enough attention for their achievement (which some would argue is essential to American culture, and I would agree, though I think it is self-motivated and self-seeking). The more I'm learning, the more I realize that the richer countries of the world always seem to think they've got it right, and become stuck in ego centrism, evaluating other cultures based only upon the perspective of where you come from, drawing from the data bank of your own experience instead of reaching out for what could be newer or richer.

My speech I finished tonight is about developing countries, and what role we as independent and developed nations should play in the course of their future. The first thing that usually comes to mind, for me at least, is sending over heaps of money that will hopefully reach the right people and work towards the right things when it gets there. But how do you find that balance? There has to intensive framework in place to ensure that the small percentage of rich people in those poor countries don't receive some more pocket change. There is also the issue of corrupt governments, and people trying to get ahead on what should have been someone else's gain.

How crazy and complicated and complex is our world?

If there is one thing I am learning in my International Studies major, it is that all cultures evolve at a different pace, and that is a beautiful thing. Even recently I looked down at certain cultures for being not as 'caught-up' with the present day as we are. For not embracing our clothes or culture or monetary system. We think of them as unrefined or savage, as naive and ignorant of the world growing and changing around them. I am learning to disagree with what I have always been taught. I am learning that most people we would call 'indigenous' loathe that term and consider it offensive. They scoff at how we fumble trying to classify them.

I don't want to try to classify cultures that are misunderstood or misrepresented anymore. I just want to reach out, to understand, and to get some sense of how they live and why. I want to stretch myself and experience, to open my mind and heart to how I can help them be who they are, originally, apart from who we would desire them to be.

It is so great to be learning again. I just can't wait til I get in my Issue Emphasis classes about Global Resources and Development. Way excited to know how I can get more involved in the right ways.

I will keep you posted. = )

on fancy words and elaborate things

2008-09-17T02:10:00.001-07:00

God,
Sometimes want to speak to you in fancy words and of elaborate things because that’s what I think is beautiful. But I know you want my honesty and the openness of my heart.

I miss you.

I haven’t been talking to you as much lately, partly because I am so preoccupied with all of the newness of my life and all of these changes that are crashing in around me. I get busy. I push you aside. I settle in where it’s comfortable and where the pangs of conviction can’t quite reach my restless soul. I reach for what is lesser and temporary.

I know you are well aware by now, but I am selfish. I have my own agenda, and all of these things in my life that I want to get done my way, and in my time, and by my own feeble hands. I have my own demons that I refuse to let go of, my filthy habits and my half-hearted relationships I cling to so desperately. I just won’t let go. I enjoy addiction to lesser things and tattered worldly glory because it’s easy. It’s comfortable. Mediocrity can be soothing at times.

Despite what I like to tell myself, I am really not all that great of a person; my plans for my life are self-seeking and egocentric. You know this. I want to travel so I can say I have been places. I want to learn languages so I can appear smarter or more accomplished than other people, even though I really do enjoy the learning aspect as well. I stretch the truth. I bend the rules. But how long can I bend and not break?

I do love you. I really do.

Sometimes I talk at you when I am alone, when I am under a sky of stars that you created. I tell you of my day, about lessons learned and things I am wrestling. But more often than not, my voice echoes back at me, and I wonder if you have heard; if you have been hearing me at all. My whispers are met by the crickets and the faint sounds of cars someplace distant. I exhale slowly in the near-silence and wait for you to answer me.

Someplace inside though, I know you hear. I know you listen. If there is a listening deficiency, I am more than certain it is on my end. But I am not hearing you tonight.

So with your ever-constant heart, I hope you hear that I love you still. That I still long for you. That despite the inconsistency of my actions at times – most times – I still know that your way is the best way, and that your love is the greatest and most beautiful.

Someday I will learn to overcome my humanity and learn to let go. But until then, I know you will be waiting. Thank you for always waiting for me.

on conversations with popo and hospital rooms

2008-09-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

I am up in Spokane tonight, spending time with my grandpa while he waits to undergo surgery tomorrow. These are words and stories that poured forth in moments that often go unwritten. This is Popo's story... the words I clarified for him are in brackets.

I heard an Illustration that was used once at a conference in Colorado Springs, someone asked one of the pastors that never flew anyplace, ‘Why don’t you fly, you always use the train’ ‘Well the Lord never said he would protect me on a plane’ ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ ‘He said ‘low I am with you always.’

This next [illustration] was told as a real story but I’m not sure if it is or not… [it was] about a beautiful large church, kind of upper-class, so to speak, and it was right across the street from the University. [One Sunday] this kid came into the church wearing his worn-out sandals, and he walked in, the church was full and he couldn’t find a seat. He had jeans and a big beard, and he walked all the way down to the front and he folded his legs and sat on the floor right in front of the front pews. The whole time he walked, people that thought they were all ritzy were astounded, and then all at once in the quietness they heard an older gentlemen get up, a man with a cane, and he walked all the way to the front, and as difficult as it was to sit down, he sat down next to the young man, and put his hand on his shoulder. The pastor couldn’t preach his sermon or anything, it blew the church apart when they realized ‘we think we are so hot, and here is this guy who goes and sits down [on the floor].’

And that’s the way it should be… if Jesus was walking down the aisle people would say ‘he doesn’t belong in our church.’ It was told to me as a true story but I don’t know if it is or not.

So I talked to [my old friend] Rich on the phone… the talk came around to age eventually… he said ‘Floyd I’m going to be sixty soon’ so we got to talking about this and that, and anyhow, long story short, I felt led to preach a sermon last Sunday on something I have never preached on because it didn’t appeal to me and that is on the subject of age and getting older. I can’t remember exactly, I think it's Psalm 37, it says something like, 'I was young once, but now I am old, and I have never seen the righteous go hungry'...

I preached [a sermon called] ‘come and grow old along with me’ and so I brought out some of the aspects of what it meant to be aged, what transpired [in our lives], what can benefit people... Some people in their eighties that I know minister more [to the community] than their pastor.. they fold bulletins for three or four thousand people downtown… some have a food pantry, some friends of mine, Lee and Glenda Gwin and I think she is eighty-something and he might be right at ninety, and they go down and work in the food pantry [downtown] and feed people that need food, and some markets give them vegetables and stuff like that… [it goes to show that] even in your older years you can still be doing something for the Lord.

People [at church on Sunday] said it was interesting that I took a subject that maybe would be unappealing because none of us really like to get old because there are various things that can happen to you, but there are still a lot of good you can do for the cause of Christ… I had about five points but I can’t remember all of them… I talked about [the] advantages of being old, and about your family. You have a tighter knit family sometimes and you have long relationships that have gone for a long time, years and years, and one of the things about your children is that you wake up one day and realize that your children are your friends… when they’re growing up you’re not sure and you’re not always looked well upon by your children… but when you get older, your kids are your friends not just your kids.

Someone asked me a week or two ago if I was walking and I said ‘yeah I only walked two blocks last night, got tired in front of the funeral home and sat down out front waiting for them to open up.’

All in all, Dayna, I just like people. And I think when you like people, they like you too. I think it’s like the Bible says, ‘to have a friend you have to be a friend,’ or something along those lines… it’s just always been my 'thing'… for lack of a better term. I love people. And because of that, people by enlarge love me too. I don’t have many enemies.

When they told me I had to have this pacemaker opened up again and have this other surgery a few weeks ago because they thought something was flipping out in my heart... There was a nurse I hadn’t seen before, and when I told her my age she said ‘you couldn’t be that old!’… and that makes me like them whether they like me or not! We got to talking and I told her I was a pastor, and she said ‘I just can’t believe that, and that you are 83’ so when I got ready to leave Judi and I were walking down the hallway, and the nurse was getting ready to leave down the hall in front of us. She turned around and blew me a kiss… it almost made me tear up, it was so sweet. A neat little nurse. I just really love people.

more to follow.

on august the twentieth

2008-08-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

Three days.

In less than a week I leave my year-long hiatus from higher education and try to realign my life with the goals and pursuits that sometimes seem in the past instead of in my future.

It’s funny to me that in order to make money later in life you have to spend so much now, and for what? A piece of paper that tells me I am accomplished? A pat on the back or more security in job interviews several years down the road? What if I spend all this money only to decide that I want a lesser-paying but ultimately more fulfilling career? Will I think of this time in my life as wasted? And regrets? I don’t believe in them, but I fear having them one day, though it may be far off from this moment.

Don’t misunderstand; I want always to pursue thought and reasoning, to push myself to see the world with new eyes when the scenery appears to be the same. I think the moment stagnancy enters the picture something is broken inside. But I have always taken pride in following a less-beaten path, enjoying the journey instead of spending the present on worrying about the future. It has always been with confidence that I tell people I have never regretted taking time off to explore this world and my music and myself. But with that same confidence I know that the things I need to do in life to reach my potential has to be reached through school, instead of shortcuts or other paths. I have explored, I have seen some of this earth that I wanted to see, and now it’s time to settle in and discover who I was made to be.

I am sensing rough waters in my life soon, but in those waters will be security and purpose. I will fight those sixteen credits with all the mindpower and confidence I can find in me, and I will think because I was gifted with a mind that is able to learn and stretch and grow.

I can only hope that whatever path I take leads me to a place where I can give back to the world I was placed in like the people in it have given back to me.

Selah… let it be.

on magic carpets and grownups

2008-06-15T23:56:00.000-07:00

I have been out of school for a year now (though eagerly anticipating my rejoining of the academic world in the fall), but it amazes me how much I am still actively learning. I wonder if life will always be this encompassing and new, in the sense that I am constantly experiencing and enjoying new aspects of my life, my relationships, and my spirituality. It is beautiful; I hope so.

Coming home is not always a vacation for me, mostly because there are so many people to see and things to do and shifts to pick up at my old restaurant. There is rarely time to relax and to exhale, though it is always a bit relieving to finally be surrounded by people I have loved and missed so terribly. In the chaos of it all it is easy to lose track of what I wanted from this week in the first place.

Intentionally and with purpose, I had set aside the first five days of this journey back to Duvall for two reasons, and two reasons alone: to find a few moments of tranquility to be alone with my own soul, and to spend as much time with my family as humanly possible. Just setting those goals for a few days has made all the difference (although if you have met either of my two brothers, in any length of time, you are probably aware that those two goals can’t usually coexist peacefully).

There are a few lingering moments in my life, happening more frequently as of late, when I look around me and suddenly realize how beautiful the moment is that I am in, along with all the potential it contains and, at last, all the mysteries and answers in my world and mind seem to be at rest. This happened yesterday at my brothers’ graduation party that carried on throughout the evening.

I am learning to live deeply in these moments. I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, sighed, and then took a look around me. Loved ones and friends wandered around our backyard, music wafting through the air in the background, surrounded by laughter and sunshine, a game of volleyball at hand, the barbecue making the yard smell like a summer dream. It was a celebration of endings and beginnings, and as my eyes darted from face to face I realized that there was a smile on every one of them. I sat at a table with a book in my hand while my shoulders took in the last rays of sunshine. I was captivated. And I watched.

I vaguely remember hearing someone sitting next to me say to their child, “No honey, not right now, I’m spending time with the grownups.” After a moment went by it began to register… she is talking about where I am sitting. I am a grownup.

I am a grownup?

For some reason, it’s such a bizarre concept for a girl who was a tomboy until middle school and didn’t learn to properly apply makeup until quite a long time after that. Forget that I turn 22 this year; I am still deciding on my major and worrying about the FAFSA and gas money.

I used to think that when I hit a certain age, my life would magically unfold… like a magic carpet would roll out like a scroll on the ground in front of me and give me all of the answers. It would pay my rent and make sure I was driving the right car and dating the right person. Somehow, at this magical number of acquired wisdom, this would all come about. I think I decided that age was 16 (this was, of course, when I was 9, and sixteen seemed years ahead of me instead of a mile marker in the road behind me). If my theories were correct, then by some stroke of evil luck I am still paying rent on my own, driving a car that is paid for, but far from perfect, and not dating… at all.

Now, however, none of those things seem like a burden, and instead seem so beautiful and such a part of my adventure and my life. I wonder why it is that our perceptions of success change so much with each era of our lives. I used to fight for wealth and possession and now I fight for wisdom and cultural understanding. I used to long for a job where I would be materialistically satisfied, and now I only long for one where I can be encouraged and at peace with who I am and who God has created and intended for me to be. I used to fight to find a relationship, no matter how damaging they were for me, or how needy or desperate I was for them. Now I desperately want to just understand myself and who I am apart from the men I have been blessed to have in my life.

I have been reading a lot this week about mindfulness and meditation, on focusing on what is good and true, and learning to dwell in that, in the here and now. I am not talking about new age religion or things like that, but about learning to be conscious in the moment. My favorite way it was described is that ‘mindfulness is essential to spiritual practice, for no matter what spiritual tradition we follow, we must have a mind that is able to stay in the present moment if our understanding and experience is to deepen.’

One of my favorite verses in the Bible says ‘Be still and know I am God.’ So simple. Yet He knew how we would wrestle with it, and how our minds tend to wander and focus and dwell on lesser things and that which is temporary. So, slowly, I am learning to be here. Present. Engaged in how stunning this moment is instead of how great tomorrow looks on my calendar. Learning to look around and be thankful. The process is slow, especially for me, but I am learning to love my life, my struggles, my personal victories, my disagreements, and my families, blended and beautiful and overflowing with love.

Three years ago I walked down the aisle of a ceremony and was handed my diploma, leaving behind the world of high school and all it represented. Some moments it feels like yesterday, but most times it seems another lifetime behind me. On Friday night I watched both of my brothers do the same, smiles on their faces and tassels on their hats… I listened to one of them speak words of wisdom to his classmates as salutatorian, and I beamed with pride. They are both so individual and unique… good at so many different things but yet completely different in their countenance.

It has been a week of learning, for me; learning more about myself and the aspects of my heart and soul that need work and maintenance. Learning more about how to gracefully interact with my family, even if I disagree, and even if I sometimes think that I am hardly in the wrong. Learning to stay silent more often and to listen more (although this is obviously still a work in progress). More importantly, about recognizing how beautiful my life is, no matter how flawed or how imperfect it may seem.

I can only hope that all of life is filled with learning and knowledge and relationships like my journey has been this year, with a thirst to learn language and people and history, and a desire to deeply know my God and myself. I just want to know. To reach. To move others and be moved, to teach and to learn. To continue to reach for the stars, and to refuse settling comfortably on the nearest mountaintop.

In the end, I think all of that is up to me.

I’m ready to reach.

on missing my california

2008-06-05T01:35:00.000-07:00

I am missing my California.

There are days when I think it was all just a dream; that I have really never left this place where I grew up at all. Did I ever leave? Was I ever really gone? Moments come when I can’t picture the faces anymore... I can’t piece the memories together and I don’t know what it’s like to feel the sun shine on my face the way it did then. It was another time in another place. I had a different heart, different hopes and different loves.

It is early in my story still, or at least that is what I like to believe when the end seems too near. If it is early, in fact, then I am led to wonder why my mind feels so aged and so accustomed to change. I am led to wonder why I am so numb to that change when it is crashing in around me. It seems as though my heart never registers what is going on until it’s too late to go back and start again. I wonder if God intended it that way… a fail-safe in case I dare to look back to where I came from and change my mind. By the time it hits me what I am letting go of it is already gone and over.

I guess all those things can be said less eloquently: I mourn later than everyone else. Granted, when I rejoice and when I celebrate something in my life, it is glorious and good. But when I do mourn or when I encounter this funny thing called nostalgia, I fall into the memories and I fall hard. I stumble into the ‘what if’ trap, and I fight off the feeling that I didn’t try hard enough or I didn’t choose wisely enough. If not the ‘what if’ trap, then it is the trap of good thoughts and recollections, and wondering if my heart will ever sigh so happily again; dreaming of better days instead of living in today. Physically aching to be somewhere else in a different era of your own life.

Life is so good and so rich. I have been saying that a lot lately and it is still so very true. But today I wanted nothing but to be in Azusa with my sister, walking to a coffee shop and driving to the beach with the wind in our hair and the world at our feet. I wanted to be walking in the evening air from my apartment to Bowles housing… to clutch my sweatshirt closer to my chest and know that a handful of my best friends were only a moments walk away. To rest in the comfort of knowing that God did make the rain, but he made the sunshine so very reassuring and full of hope. Today, I wanted yesterday so very badly.

The funny thing is that even if I returned, it would be so very different. If I were there, I would only wish to be somewhere else. The people have changed, just as I have, and the apartments are different and the friends have shuffled around and discovered new relationships, new paths to walk and new struggles to fight against. It’s called ‘my California’ because it is different than yours, different than anyone else’s.

Do you ever sit and wonder where you would be if you had only changed one thing? If you had only missed one conversation that changed you? If you had stepped back from your calling in life so that you could have it a little easier? I am recovering from a severe cold, so keep in mind that any of this could be the Nyquil talking, but tonight I want my California back. I am sitting here watching night turn quickly into morning, with a candle lit by my side, and I wonder what I could have changed. I wonder if I made the most of my time there; if people still remember me and if I am ever in their thoughts like they are in mine.

Life is so beautiful, and I am so thankful for today. Thankful for my two roommates who I adore and who lift me up and who hold me when I can’t keep the tears inside anymore. Thankful that I have two sets of parents who love and adore me, with more siblings than I could have ever hoped for and more love for and from them than I have ever dreamed of.

I am thankful but I am looking back.

California, rest in peace.

on stories

2008-05-15T00:07:00.000-07:00

I drove slowly as the country road was winding its way into the distance out my rearview mirror. Fresh flowers sat in my passenger seat; the ones I picked myself just minutes before.

I exhaled.

It was that kind of day, with my window down and traces of the summer to come sinking into my senses; the smell of fresh-cut grass and the way the hills are alive with a vibrant green you can only see this time of year. I love this season. The old has faded away and given birth to what is new and fresh. Life. Summer is around the corner, but if you look for it too closely you will miss the beauty that is springtime. I am beginning to understand that there is rarely anything more symbolic of the human heart and spirituality than seasons; until you have braved the coldest winter you will never come to love summer nearly as much or as deeply.

I flipped my turn signal on and pulled my car onto the gravel road that would take me where I was going; the local cemetery. I have never been to a cemetery that I loved, and in fact, most of them aren't places I would choose to go of my own volition. But in Colfax, you stand at the top of the world and look out over creation and the whole town is at your feet. You can see the sky change its color and watch the moon rise over the horizon. My Neenee is here – my grandmother. I parked my car and made my way to the most beautiful headstone of them all and laid my flowers right under the verse 'where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.'

I sat down, leaned my back on the tombstone and closed my eyes, wondering what she would think of the seasons of my life that she has missed, or rather, that I have been missing her. Anyone you ask who knew her would tell you that she was the most beautiful of them all; everybody loved her. When I stop and visit where she was laid to rest, I think about life and legacy and love unconditional. I usually sit and stay awhile, and tonight the sun sinking had set the clouds on fire, and there were colors I had only seen on canvas. I breathed it in and brushed my hands against the cool grass.

I wonder what will become of my story when I am no longer here to tell it. I wonder what will be said, and whether I will be remembered and whether or not I was a friend to be trusted and counted on. When all that is physically left of me is a stone on a hillside, will my memory stir love and will it move people to do things that matter? Will I have moved enough for what matters?

As time goes by, I ask these questions less and less, mostly because I realize that either way, she would have been proud of me. She would call me beautiful and she would touch my cheek and tell me that I belong and that my eyes remind her of the blue of the ocean or the sky on a sunny day. She would tell me to be more present and mindful in the moment and to not wish time away because it dissolves into yesterday so quickly. Some of the decisions I have made would not impress her, and there would be no hesitation in her telling me so, but she would be proud nonetheless. She would love nonetheless.

My eyes and thoughts wandered from one headstone to another as I imagined what their lives were like and who their children were and if they loved and laughed enough. They were doctors. They were mothers. They were life-changers. They wrestled their giants and sometimes they won. They were lovers and fighters, winners and losers.

I am captivated by stories lately, and not the kind you hear from the grapevine or the gossip on the nightly news. I am drawn to life stories: struggles, strengths, addictions and triumphs. I have noticed something in almost every story: there is conflict to separate the good seasons, a winter of sorts, to bring a more full appreciation of the day that the traces of snow will finally melt away to summer.

I like stories.

Sometimes I don't like that they wait to resolve, and I want conclusion or the promise of a happy ending. Then I realize that what is beautiful is today, and new mercies, and this moment and all the challenge and potential that is in it. Right now. That I have the power to change, and to be changed; to love and be loved. That the reason those 'choose your own adventure' books have such a draw is because they were meant to echo reality. We really do choose our own adventures, and we really do have the power to write our own endings and everything that rests between the first and last pages of our lives.

Neenee's story spoke and it is still speaking. More than anything, I want my story to speak of love and wisdom and passion. Of mercy that was not wasted and grace that was not taken for granted.

I drove home newly purposed.

on rico's and cinnamon rolls

2008-05-13T21:02:00.000-07:00

Life is so very rich and full.

I know we all have our days when the walls seem to crumble down, and the rain seems to fall heavier than usual; your head seems to hang a little bit lower. I have come to know those days well, especially throughout this last year. But it is so comforting to have a day like today, when I feel successful at work and in my spiritual life and in relationships; comforting to smell the air after it rains and know that summer is on its way. I woke up this morning to a cup of coffee and a kiss on my forehead. I also ate a cinnamon roll. If you ask me, getting out of bed doesn't get easier than that. Work felt fruitful, and I threw my heart into the small tasks at work, knowing that I am appreciated and that I am where I need to be.

Two of my best friends and I laughed until we cried today. Sitting inside Rico's in the cozy armchairs, rain falling outside the windowpane, with oldies echoing off the walls... sipping on a Mexican coffee and talking about life, love and God and how amazing and hilarious it can be to interact together. I am so in love with who we are as a trio; with Adrienne and her stories and tales of adventure from the world of her work, with Senja and the way she quietly tolerates my often obnoxious sense of humor. We quote Brian Regan and Borat excessively and in socially awkward situations. We remain addicted to Pandora and cheap jewelry.

It is so relaxing to be who you are, unapologetically, knowing that you have two people that love you. Without conditions. Without strings attached. No matter where you have been or where you are going. It's like exhaling after holding your breath for far too long.

Life can be far from beautiful sometimes. But I never want to overlook the simple days. When life is good and true friends are few but faithful. When laughing can bring me to tears and friendship can bring me to my knees in gratitude.

When I give thanks, I give thanks for days like today.

on the simple life

2008-05-06T20:34:00.001-07:00

It seems I am embracing the country lifestyle I ran away from for so long. At least for now. I do enjoy the city; the glow of streetlights and the sound of traffic on the pavement just after it rains. I especially miss Seattle, with the alleys and coffee house and walls boasting of local art. Oh, how I do love the city.

I have been staying with my family in Colfax, however, and it is glorious.

There is something so beautiful about the simplicity of country life. Maybe its the open space of it all, with room to run and stretch and breathe. Maybe its the way country music blares out of our 1910 barn with the men working in the shop while us ladies sit in the sunshine and entertain my baby brother (I have always loathed country music, but I have found that in the right environment it has the potential to be quite charming). There is a quiet, and a peacefulness. There are birds chirping and a tractor plowing over the nearest hillside. We drink lemonade in the spring afternoons and sit on the lawn in laughter and in silence.

It's almost as if by slowing life down a bit you are quicker to be mindful of the smaller moments, and the beauty of the often-overlooked.

on intersections and blemishes

2008-04-22T14:35:00.000-07:00

I’ve reached one of those points in life where everything you are living and breathing seems so beautiful and new, and everything you have left behind you seems so tragically detached from the person you are now. You walk toward better days with your head facing backwards trying to recapture all that has been. You take two steps forward but you always seem to be looking three steps behind you.

It seems I am sitting at this intersection in my life where all the different roads I have been down and all the different lives I have led have to come together somehow; they have to find a way to comfortably coexist in my history while somehow letting me move forward. There are some people who believe that when you turn your life around in a positive direction that you are supposed to somehow ignore all those raw and dirty places you have been; you have to whitewash them from your mind or they will sneak back in and destroy you. But I wrestle with that because I know that those mistakes and those blemishes help make me who I am; that those lessons I have taken with me have made me both stronger and wiser. I admit they were not all the brightest decisions and that I was designed for greater things… but I think it is foolish to think that those days in their entirety were useless or wasted.

Yes, they were convoluted and my heart oftentimes felt twisted; like a rag being rung out to dry. Yes, there was devastation and sleepless nights; brokenness and drama, but there was also beauty and love, passion and depth. There were conversations by candlelight and peace in the quiet moments. And as wrong as they were at times, I don’t want to forget.

Lately I have been struggling to reconcile these different pieces of me; to somehow figure out how they got there and what purpose they serve; to sort through the desires of my heart and why they exist and how I can cultivate all of them to make me a more beautiful and well-rounded person. But it’s rough, sometimes.

I have so much in my future, Lord willing, with a new job starting and getting ready to move in with two amazing girls. I have so much to reach for and to be excited about, and I am. But I don’t want to be a person that thinks it is essential to forget where you have been to fully be where you are.

God, help me wrap up all the pieces of my heart to be more present in the moment; to let go gracefully instead of clinging to a past I can’t change. Help me to appreciate the fallen times and the broken moments.

I just want to live deep and full.

on the joy of baby brothers

2008-04-19T12:24:00.000-07:00

There are few things as beautiful, hilarious and fun as he is.

I give you my baby brother... :) He is a little over 4 months now.

on jeanine and friendship

2008-03-30T02:02:00.001-07:00

'It's time to go.'

I have said these words before; once upon a time before I left Duvall for the City of Angels. They are hauntingly familiar. A season of my life is quickly coming to an end, and I more than most know what it feels like to buckle up and move forward; I know what it's like to pack up your life in flimsy cardboard and packing tape. I know what it's like to leave ones I love behind and to chase after the future with all that is in me. To be honest, there is always a part of me that is thrilled with the prospect of adventure and with the opportunities of what is to come.

But leaving for me is not so easy this time.

This year has been more up and down for me than most years I can remember; my spiritual life has been fighting for air while the flesh and humanity in me cries out for what is momentary. Jobs have been temporary, friendships I thought were deep at times have proved to be fleeting, and overall there has been an inconsistency that I had never before experienced. Throughout all of that, though, there has been onething that has stayed constant and true, and that is Jeanine.

I usually tend to avoid talking about people by name when I write, because I think usually the lessons learned in life are more important than attributing them to one specific person. But her heart and her character continue to overwhelm what I know as normal or preconceived, so I suppose part of me deems it necessary to recognize that spirit in her; to glorify the woman that I have been blessed to know and live beside this year.

Friendship with me is not always an easy ride, mostly due to my spontaneity and wanderlust, but she took it in stride, and counted it a blessing more often than not to fight my demons alongside me. There were many sleepless nights when I couldn't fight fear any longer and would crawl in bed beside her; there were days when all I needed was a shoulder and a sleeve to cry my heart out on. There were many trying moments; relationships in life fell apart and, more often than not, the plans that I made for my life proved to be futile.

There were all of those things, the tears and difficulties. But above
all else, there was permeating joy. I suppose more than anything I just wanted to remember; to make note in my mind of those everyday moments with her heart that changed me. I never want to forget, you know? I never want to let go of lessons learned and memories made.

Tonight our smiling faces flickered in the glow of candlelight, and our
seemingly dysfuntional family came together, probably the last time before my move, to celebrate one another and to dwell on what is good and beautiful and true, especially in Jeanine. We raised our glasses to friendship and to blessings; to recognizing that true and unconditional love is blind to flaws and wrongdoings. There was laughter, teary eyes, and lessons on packing with aluminum foil instead of newspaper.

This year held so much for both of us; conversations by the light of the fire, flickering shadows on the walls and watching the snow falling in the light outside the sliding doors. There was Christmas in October. There were autumn leaves and Friends marathons, moments of family crisis and spiritual healing. There was decorating for the holidays, our haphazard attempt to tie a tree to the roof of my car; birthdays and hard days, and sometimes they were one and the same. I remember tears and laughter, struggles and victories; I remember lighting candles, and days when my head was heavy and there was a bath drawn for me to wake me up for work that morning. I remember hand-scrawled notes left on my dresser, to remind me that God is good, and that every day is a new beginning.

It is with gladness that I know it is not the end; that I know our story remains unfinished and beautiful in being undone. It is with a smile that I look forward to days to come; that I know the day will arrive when we will 'remember when,' and revisit these times that our lives seemed broken but new. I will miss crawling into bed beside her, and I will miss our neurotic Tessie-dog making sure we are safe from harm. I will miss having someone ready and waiting to hear each new song that I write. But most of all, I will just miss my Jeanine, my constant... my mentor and friend.
I have been blessed with our season, and it is time to go.

There are friendships in life to look back on and only remember the life-changing moments, the hightlights. But there are others still that make the most of the journey; when every day is a highlight and every moment has the potential to be life-changing. I am proud to say that ours is the latter.

I love you J. I can't wait to see where our paths take us.

on sight and provision

2008-03-25T03:41:00.000-07:00

My heart is overflowing, but somehow there aren’t words to say. I wish sometimes that emotions were tangible enough to spell out on paper; that I could take you to where I have been and have you know my heartbeats. It is hard to write your footsteps in black and white, but I have been given a voice, so I will do my best.

Jehovah Jireh.

I have heard the name, had it echo in the walls of my mind, but it has never felt as real to me as it has this week. Jehovah Jireh… the God who sees and provides. I have slowly been learning the different names of God; names that we can use to see him and his heart more clearly. It has been changing the way that I pray; changing the way that I cry out to him in my midnight moments.

He sees. Not only does he see me in my entirety, in all of my faithlessness and brokenness; not only does he see all that, but he loves me regardless and unapologetically. He provides. As if a gruesome death and humiliation weren’t a big enough price to pay; as if unconditional love wasn’t sufficient for my wrongs… He still provides those basic needs that I am coming to appreciate more each day.

Last night, I cried out on my face for direction. For a way to pay my friend for what she has done in my life, for a way to have finances to survive til a paycheck, for a way to know which job I should pursue, and on top of all of that, for a place to live for the summer. I just want what you want for me, God. Help me seek You out and help me follow through.

Throughout today, every prayer was answered without me doing a thing on my own.

Without discussion, two members of my family slipped me enough money to pay my rent and to get me through til a paycheck. Without searching, I had a phone call with a place to live, followed by a text message of encouragement that I was pursuing the right job. I know that my answers will not always be so easily found, but I am so thankful when He is bold in letting me know I am walking the right path.

Great are His ways, and while I will never understand why I am found so priceless by Him, I am finding that it is true. To Him, I am captivating and I am worth it. He is good, even when I doubt, and he is God, no matter where I am at or what I need for the day.

Jehovah Jireh. Saying and singing a name has never been so sweet.

on an honest prayer

2008-03-16T23:58:00.000-07:00

Father, God,
Sometimes I don’t get it. Sometimes I can’t blog, and I can’t find anything more poetic or true than just talking to you. There aren’t any beautiful phrases in my head that could fit this moment perfectly, and you haven’t really given me any random or inspiring subject to bless me or my readers with, like falling snow or puzzling vacuum cleaners. So, here it is.

I don’t get it.

I don’t get any of this life sometimes… I don’t understand the people you have put in my life, or why… I don’t understand why they hurt me sometimes, and why others can be so uplifting. I don’t understand why you would speak different things into the lives of others that I am somehow not let in on. And sometimes, God, it even feels like you have left me out of the loop; like I’m missing something that you intentionally kept from me. I don’t understand why I would feel called to a relationship when the other person wouldn’t; why I would feel chemistry and they would not… and I furthermore don’t understand what I was supposed to learn from any of these trials lately. Did I not seek you out enough? Did I not hand it over to you enough, or was it just a stupid move in general to seek a relationship through the means that I did?

Why? And why do I feel so forsaken?

Why is it so easy for me to slip into faithlessness? Why is it so easy for me to fall back into the same mistakes, when I have asked you to make me a new person, with new desires and new passions? Even when I try my best to let you do your work in my heart and my life, I mess up. And they aren’t new mistakes, they are the same friggin things I have wrestled with my whole life. I just want to be free God! I just want you to make me new, and to take those parts of me that I don’t know how to surrender, and make them beautiful. Yet, every time I have earnestly surrendered my heart to you, genuinely and faithfully, it is swept away by the world again. I would ask ‘is it my doing or yours,’ but I know that somehow the blame rests in me. It is always me, and it always has been.

You say that like a dog returns to its vomit, a man returns to his folly. Why does it have to be that way? Why do I have to keep seeking out this stuff that I have already tasted and experienced; things I already know don’t mesh well with who I am inside? And why are those things still so attractive to me? After every mountaintop, God, you have given me a valley. Or placed me there, whichever way you want to look at it. And now that I am here, and off of my joyride down the hillside, I just don’t want to lose heart. I just don’t want to sink back to the places I have been and the things that have already damaged me.

So would you help me out? Would you give me some hope? Would you point me in the direction I need to go; with finances, relationships, school… I so badly want to be where you want me to be. It is just so hard to get there sometimes or even just to figure out where those places are. Be in my relationships, stay in my heart, and thank you for not giving up on me on night like tonight, when the doubts are creeping in and my relationships and plans seem to be falling apart.

I don’t know a lot, God. But I know that I love you; that I want this thing between you and me to work out, and that I want my life to be for you. I’m for you.

Would you help me live that way, think that way, and breathe that way? Because at this point, that's all I can ask for.

Amen.

on lingering snow and mountaintops

2008-03-12T01:52:00.000-07:00

At the top of a hill where drifts of snow still linger, my car came to rest.

We didn't know why we had come; maybe it was just to get away from all the noise and flashy lights. It is tiresome sometimes, this fast-paced world we're in. But now the world was at our feet. Senja and I exchanged glances, and rolled down the windows; felt the breeze brush our faces and dance in our hair. Soft sounds from the stereo melted perfectly with that moment. The world of city lights at our feet, and another world of lights in the sky above us.

I live for moments like those.

When I try to count the stars and get lost in the beauty. When the only light is the moon, and staring at the heavens feels like catching a glimpse at the face of God. When you have a friendship that is deep enough for silence, and real enough to know that sometimes there aren't words to speak.

I am blown away when I open my eyes to the wonder around me. That I know the Creator of it all intimately, and, more impressive, that He knows me better than I know myself. He knows my fears, my loves, my passions and my struggles. And the stars in the sky? That number I can't count to because I run out of fingers and toes? Those are the number of His thoughts about me.

It's always hard to leave a mountaintop in your life. I whispered to God that I would like the superhuman ability to stay in this moment forever; to stretch myself out under the expanse of sky and rest in knowing He made it all. But softly in my mind, I heard Him whisper that it was time to go.

I'm starting to realize that most of our lives will be lived in the valleys below; that mountains will be hard to reach and I might not always end up standing on top of the one I planned to scale. But I think He gives us mountaintops to prepare us for the valleys and the shadows; gives us glimpses of the Heaven that is our Home so we know what we are fighting for.

I wanted to linger a little more; to be surrounded by the traces of snow that are fighting the spring and to feel God brush my face in a breeze again.

But He's calling. And it's time to move forward.

on praising in the storm

2008-03-09T15:18:00.000-07:00

My cries broke the silence.

There was a plea in my heart for another way… another way that somehow the plans I had for my life could succeed, despite the Godly hesitancy and the reasons why… or in this case, why not.

A nearly empty room, my legs tucked under me in an armchair… back at home in my parents’ house, the familiar being twisted around the unfamiliarness of that night. I buried my face in a blanket, and cried out loud:

God, what happens when I don’t understand You? When I want to encourage and nothing I can do gets through? What happens when the desires of my heart are not what You have for me, even though maybe they could be good for a season? What happens when my job feels like a train wreck, my education is a joke and what hope I have for relationships sometimes doesn’t match up with Yours? What happens now, God? You said you would give me the desires of my heart. And tonight, I am not getting what my heart wants and longs for. I know Your plan is bigger than mine, and that you can see the horizon better than I can… but why would you bless me with something for a season only to take it away? Why struggles and why pain? Why can’t I make sense of any of this, even though I’m seeking You?

I think more than anything, God wants our honesty; our open prayers and questioning, our fears and our failures and our beauty. I spent the week with an amazing friend, who mentioned this morning that without some of his struggles and ongoing issues in life, that he would turn to God less. That in a crazy way, he can be thankful for those things he wrestles with; that if we never struggled, and if life were perfect on its own, we would have a more incomplete picture of who God is. I think that is beautiful and true.

In some ways I am learning to be thankful for the things that turn me back to face the right direction, and the One who is Direction. To have joy in the midst of whatever is going on inside of me, whether or not my heart is in pain. I am thankful for all I am learning, and all that He is teaching me through others; thankful for joy and hope, even when they seem fleeting and out of my grasp. I am thankful for weeks like this one, when I am drained emotionally and physically, and when my heart is tired. When I am drawn to look at the goodness of my God; at the way He waits to hold me in the midst of nights like these.

I am thankful that I am incomplete; that the beauty of me and my life is that we are both being pieced together more each day.

There is tomorrow. If nothing else, I can rest in that.

on dancing and the author of joy

2008-02-29T13:52:00.001-08:00

The moments are rare when I embrace God as the Author of Joy.

Sometimes I tend to look at the guidelines He gives us for life and I forget that they are to give us peace. I forget that they are there to keep my heart safe. As the church we tend to lose ourselves sometimes in the difficulty of the boundaries He sets in our lives. We spend more time sidestepping failure and sin and skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk then dwelling, walking and dancing with God.

What is so amazing to me is that when we are ready to find joy, it is available. When we are ready to crack open our hearts and recognize that life is greater than ourselves, we will find Greater Joy. It is waiting.

And it is so filling to get lost in the romance that is Christ. To be swept off our feet by the wonder of forgiveness and creation. To be brought to tears knowing that His love for us has not grown cold. He waits patiently for us to realize that what He wants for us is not a dull or boring life, but one of unconditional love and adventure, of challenges and battles, of warriors and victory.

I think He smiles when we finally realize that it is okay to dance. That it's okay to want to throw your hands up in the air and twirl like a child. It's okay to get lost in a breeze and sing out loud; to jump around when something moves inside of you.

I danced with Him today. Felt His hands in mine, pulling me to my feet and later bringing me gently to my knees. Felt my body so full of joy that I learned to forget myself and get lost in Him. More than anything, what I felt was perfect peace knowing that my life is ransomed. That I am new. And that, most beautiful of all, it has nothing to do with me.

I began to remember today why He is the Author of Joy. Because nothing I have ever felt or experienced has come close to fulfilling me like He did today. As a person I can be easily distracted and quick to compromise, but I hope when those moments of decision come I reflect on today, and I remember that we danced. That it was beautiful. That even if just for a moment, I knew it was okay to dance like a crazy person and to jump around in joy, because that's the reason I was made.

I was made to love.

on the empty nights

2008-02-15T22:30:00.001-08:00

If only everything made sense. Followed some sort of logic, even.

Some days are so wonderful, and the sun shines down and the coming of spring is evident. The grass is green and all is well.

But I wonder sometimes why there are hard days; days with tears and frusteration and uncertainty. Days when all you need is to cry out, but you can’t find the words. Even if you could find them, the people you need the most seem to be occupied or the timing is unfortunate.

And so a cry breaks the silence. The tears are shed alone. Not quite alone; though God seems sometimes as far off and as vast as the sea. It is hard to understand the ways of Someone bigger than I could understand. Alone is how it feels, whether it remains true or not.

When everything falls down, and the walls are stripped away; when friends aren’t around and peace is hard to find… maybe that’s where I will find Him.

I hope it’s true.

on roses and sushi

2008-02-15T00:47:00.000-08:00

My hair is pushed back from my face, my hands still smelling like soy sauce and bleach from the long day finally behind me. I still have Korean menu items and sushi specials floating around nonchalantly in my head. It is hard to find peace in my heart and to leave the rush of Valentine’s Day dinners and hour-long wait lists behind me. But now? There is silence (save the Alexi Murdoch songs playing faintly in the background of my evening).

Now there is peace.

There are days when I feel like I am not getting far in life. I feel like I will always be waiting tables, always searching for a way to get back into school; forever the could-have-been. When I got home, Jeanine and I had a conversation tonight about goals in life, and about where this world places your ultimate value, whether in business accomplishments, retirement plans or a 401k.

“I don’t have those things,” she stated, “but I have found self-worth in things that are eternal. When I think on it, I have had a great life. I have lived in India, traveled the States, spent time in Seattle and Los Angeles, and I have my son Ben. I always want to keep learning in life… to keep finding out new things and new perspectives. I never want to feel retired to doing nothing when I am helping so many people in my job now. I am helping to change lives.”

When I first started my job waiting tables full-time in Tokyo Seoul, a sushi and Korean barbecue restaurant, I didn’t see the opportunity in it at all. In fact, God pretty much had to corner me into working there after other options just didn’t come through. I was a little bitter, thinking I had left my waitress and bartending days behind. I long for the day when I don’t have to pull out a pen and a pad with a plastic smile and ask if my guests are ready for dessert.

I can be very wrong sometimes, searching for the answers in life thinking they are hard to find.

One cool thing I am learning about the Korean language, as I struggle to keep up with it in my everyday life at Tokyo Seoul is this: depending on the intonation of just one syllable, it can turn a question into an answer. I think that is beautiful. That the answer to our questions can be so close, that the answer might already rest in our heart’s vocabulary someplace.

Because I am surrounded by a language barrier everyday, I am learning how important actions are instead of words. I am learning that making somebody coffee because they look like they might be having a rough day in the kitchen is more important than just asking how their day is. I am finding that being open to other cultures, traditions and the strange foods they may offer you out of love, is important because it helps those people feel like you are trying to meet them where they are. When action is the only thing you have to show you care, you learn to appreciate the essence of actually doing instead of just talking about doing.

Every morning a Korean immigrant named Ashjima makes me soup for breakfast. I can’t tell her that I have already eaten, or that onions and raw fish don’t really suit my taste buds at ten-thirty a.m. But she invites me to sit and eat with the four other Korean employees with a tug on my arm. She doesn’t speak more than three words in English, but I know she cares about me, and I know that she values my presence and my attitude in the restaurant. She is shorter than I am, with kind eyes and a soft spirit. Through her I am learning to speak more in what I do and how I do things than in words that seek to be high and lofty.

I am so thankful for this journey. I’m so thankful that I don’t need to have things all figured out; that maybe having goals and running toward them is more important than whether you get there in the end or not. I am thankful for today; I am thankful for roses sent to my work, and for a heart that is quickly captivating me. Thankful for Ashjima and sunsets and sushi, for family and for failures I have learned through.

Thankful for today.

on salsa and imperfections

2008-02-02T02:03:00.000-08:00

I watched ‘El Cantante’ tonight.

I rented it for the music, really; it’s about a salsa vocalist. To be honest, I never really cared for salsa music until I learned to dance with it. To feel it in your heart, and in your emotions. I had to see people passionate and in love with salsa before I could learn to love it on my own. To my friends it was more than just a genre or a defined set of dancing rules. It was feeling, and raw emotion. They would cry out in angst or shout with joy when they felt something move inside them, and somehow it melted into the melody perfectly every time.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a dance, and I am missing some of the steps. It’s like I’m still learning to love the person that I am, to be passionate about remaining that person no matter what comes. I have trouble sometimes realizing that that person is beautiful. I slip up sometimes. For some reason I am a lot harder on myself than anyone else is; I am my biggest critic. And in those moments when I lose my footing, it can be hard to find the beat again. To rise above a mistake or decision and realize that in my weakness, God is still good. He is not invisible when we cry out. He hears us when we are troubled.

Somebody else’s heart is troubled tonight, and my own heart is the cause. I have a way with words, and they can be good or they can be restless and exhausting. When it is the latter, I am prone to make others anxious with me… to drag them through my own insecurities or pain. I am learning, through that someone and through their words, that it is important to dwell on what is good. On things that are beautiful and true. Even in myself.

I get so caught up sometimes in my flaws, and forget to stop and be thankful for how far I have come. For the mountains I have climbed, or more frequently, been carried to the top of. For the flaws in my humanity that give me need of a Savior. For the dance through life, the missed steps and the beauty of sinking your feet back into the rhythm again.

Spinning and swaying through life is not always easy, and it is not always beautiful. But I am coming to find that in those moments when you have to come face to face with yourself; when you have let somebody down or you should have left things unsaid, hope can still be found.

There is a line in one of my favorite songs by Switchfoot that says, ‘Maybe Redemption has stories to tell; maybe Forgiveness is right where you fell.’

I think that is beautiful, and I am finding that to be true. We search so hard sometimes to have all the right answers or the perfect things to say. We read books that give us plans and formulas on how to seek God, when really, He is already beside us in those fallen moments. The broken moments. The times in my life when I have been the most awe-stricken by God is in the depth and totality of His forgiveness.

I have spent three hours trying to put this in black and white, in words that make sense and are logical. But it’s hard to resolve a story when you are still in the midst of it; when the ending lingers out of sight. It’s even harder to write about self. For me it’s easier to address broad and general issues, like problems in the church, or world hunger. But talking about flaws and imperfections in me is a whole different challenge, and it’s one that I usually try to avoid because it’s uncomfortable. It’s risky, and to be honest, I just don’t like it. I fidget a lot. Play a few games of solitaire to get away from it. Reheat my cup of tea. Things of that nature.

But somehow, in almost all of my favorite movies, the hero or heroine is made relateable to the audience by their weakness; by their fear. We love them because that is the one thing that we all share; it’s the greatest appeal to the human emotion because we have all been there. We have all felt our weakness. We all know what it’s like to fall short and to crave that second chance. In the movie tonight, the main character’s wife talks about how his main struggle in life was being unaware of how loved he was by others. She said he had so many people that loved him and he just couldn’t see it about himself; he didn’t understand why.

That is my heart sometimes, and that is one of my greatest struggles. I was comforted in knowing that others wrestle with the same things. So just maybe those things we are afraid of sharing are the things that tie us all together. The things that make us human. They are proof of the God at work in us.

I am thankful for the dance, and for God at work in me. Thankful that I am not who I was, and that the person I will be is wiser than the person that I am today. I am thankful for the steps that I missed along the way, not because I fell, but because it is beautiful to be picked back up.

And I will always be picked up.

on jeremiah

2008-01-29T01:21:00.000-08:00

I have been wanting to write for several days. But sometimes words are tricky, and sometimes they are fleeting. They are hard to capture in the right moments, and even harder to spell out in black and white. And even if you catch them, they might not mean to anyone else what they mean to you.

God is good.

I have lived a lot of different lives, beautiful and heart-wrenching. My eyes have seen places beautiful and foreign. My spirit has been defiant sometimes, rebelling for the sake of being different; trying new things only for the sake of not following everyone else. Crying out when the world is silent, and sometimes being silent when the world is crying out for me to speak. I have fought with all that’s in me to find a path that is for me, a story that I can call my own, and a faith and a spirituality that is unique and personal.

But no matter which road I find myself at the end of, those words ring truer than anything I have ever known. God is good. Whether I find myself on a mountaintop or on my knees at the end of the day, I’m coming to find that He is good. That He has always been good. That my efforts to be self-sufficient are fruitless for a reason. I was made to love, and be loved by Him. I was made to seek after Something bigger than myself… bigger than worldly aspirations, relationships, alcohol or sleepless nights.

Lately I have been trying to follow through with one of my resolutions for this year. To dwell in scripture. To breathe it in, and exhale it. To rest in it. To let it ring true. The last few days I have been in Jeremiah, and it is changing me. When I think of the God of the Old Testament, I usually think of fire and thunder and might; of jealous love and righteous anger. To be honest I get nervous around that image of God; I would rather think of the storyboard characters made of felt that I grew up with in Sunday School, with sheep that were disproportionate to the shephards, and that sort of thing. It’s more comforting to my superficial soul sometimes.

Jeremiah is about a love affair.

In our culture people think that it’s weird being passionately in love with God. It’s a foreign concept for a lot of reasons. What I have read so far, is all about God chasing after the Israelites, in spite of their unfaithfulness. He gives the prophet Jeremiah words to give to the people of Israel, and they are heart-wrenching. At first I read quickly over the paragraphs, not really soaking it in at all. But when I dug deeper into how deep His love runs for His people, my heart broke with His. Not because I have been wronged that intensely, but because it’s the same thing I do to Him in my own life.

(2:2)
I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride,
how you followed me into the wilderness.
(2:5) What wrong did your fathers find in me that they went far from me,
and went after worthlessness, and became worthless?
(2:27) For they have turned their back to me, and not their face.
But in the time of their trouble they say, “Arise and save us!”
but where are your gods that you made for yourself?
Let them arise, if they can save you, in your time of trouble;
for as many as your cities are your gods, O Judah.
(3:1) You have played the whore with many lovers;
and would you return to me?

Those are the words that resonated with me the most. I chase after things that are temporary and worthless so often in life. I give up what is eternal to embrace what is momentary. I make idols out of materialism, and relationships, and money. I juggle priorities around to fit what feels convenient. Yet so often I am faithless like Israel, turning my head back around to ask God why He hasn’t shown up. I ask Him to hold me, and wonder why I get nothing. I have my back turned to him, and wonder why I’m not receiving comfort.

I think the most beautiful part of this story is that I know the ending.

(29:11) For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you.

I will be found by you… those words are so powerful. It is possible to find peace and joy and relationship with God. Some people spend their whole lives searching for those things, wondering why no other spiritual substance seems to satisfy. Wondering why the human caress or praises of men don’t fill them up inside; seeking fulfillment and uncovering emptiness. But I’m so happy it doesn’t have to be that way.

God is good. And I want to find Him. If nothing else, that is what I am discovering lately.

on falling leaves and the evidence of grace

2008-01-21T00:51:00.000-08:00

[something I found from September 21, 2007, that I found strangely true today... only replace 'leaves' with 'snow.']

The sun shone today.

Fall is coming, and it's evident in the cooler air and in the way leaves twirl in the breeze on the sidewalk. There is something beautiful about this season, and everything it represents. The old is being shed to the ground to wither away, never again to weigh down the tired branches. And while evident that a winter will come, the spring will come with life that is new and fresh. Abundant. I am ready for the struggle, and even more ready for the spring.

I have been discovering God in the most abstract and unthinkable ways lately. He is in the air. He is in conversation over gourmet coffee in a dim room. He is in relationships, and the skip in my steps. My relationship with Him is becoming, in every aspect, a sacred romance. For the first time, I realize that my name is not Deserted or Alone. It is Pursued. Sought After. Captivated. Captivating.

I am learning to listen instead of talk. To open my eyes and ears instead of my mouth. To give thanks and seek His feet before seeking the hands that give me so much blessing. To seek relationship and not rules or religion. And I am learning that everything good and true in my life, has not come from me at all. That the goodness of my life and my legacy will never depend on the good that I myself have done.

I was given a beautiful image and picture in my mind this week, and it is this: I don't have to perfect myself before moving towards God. I don't have to make sure I am 'right' or 'clean' in His presence. I don't have to take care of things, and then move In... instead, I move In, and those things that weigh me down, and the things that have become my struggles will be stripped away. Wiped clean.

Praise God it doesn't depend on me.

on being a nomad

2008-01-19T00:53:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder why it is that God let me have this life.

Out of any lifetime, or ethnicity, or country, or heritage, I am meant to lead this one. Some entire countries are starving, while other people are drowning in their own wealth. I am far from complaining, I am so thankful. But why me? Why do I get the ability to write, and sing, and move and create things? Why was I blessed with a supportive family while others struggle to be understood? Why am I reaping blessings I could never deserve, while other honorable people are fighting for their lives?

Don Miller says "We have one story, you and I, and that is it."

Today I was struck with the fact that I need to be more efficient with my time here on earth. That I need to be more attentive to God, and to the plans He has for my life. Sometimes I box myself in, and say that since the world says I need a degree, and the world says I can't succeed without one, that I need to spend four years of my life earning one. I'm not saying I don't want a degree, and I think a lot of people that follow that plan live amazing, adventure-filled lives. But what if I'm wrong?

I had dinner with my Popo tonight, my grandpa. Over decaf coffee and fettucini, we had a great conversation.

"Popo, sometimes I think I would be a great nomad... Jesus was a nomad. He travelled by foot and ministered to people. Sometimes I think I could do that. There are a lot of times I want to embrace the mystery of leaving it all behind. Of living for more than the accumulation of worldy possessions that the Bible says we aren't supposed to value anyway."

He paused for a moment, and I talked about wanting to live with a family in Europe for awhile, learn a new language, a new way of life, appreciate a culture different from my own. Maybe backpack across South America, meet my sponsored children, see the Andes and the way the sun sets over the South Pacific. He smiled.

"You have so many gifts, with your writing and singing, and your ability with languages... if you wanted to be a nomad, then I think you would make a great nomad. In fact, the more you talk about it, the more I think you would fit that perfectly."

I smiled back at him.

"Not only that, but you are blessed with a personality that is content anywhere, that can adapt anywhere... and very few people have or even want that gift. Maybe God has a purpose for it all."

"If not permanently, then maybe for a season of my life. Temporarily," I responded.

When I travelled to Italy, one of the most defining moments of that trip for me was in Venice. Not in seeing the Grand Canal, or in feeling like I was walking inside of a postcard. It was at the top of the Rialto Bridge, when I heard an acoustic guitar coming from one of the stairwells. I met a man who was not homeless, but was a self-inflicted nomad. Indian-style, he sat with a faded guitar in his lap and a case open on the ground in front of him. He was from Hungary, but spoke perfect English; he played Spanish, Latin and some classical Italian songs. He was a seeker; a wanderer. The thing that struck me, was that he seemed more well-grounded, and seemed to know his purpose more than a lot of college graduates or long-time business partners.

It's not that I am trying to escape getting a degree, or that I am trying to talk myself out of one; I actually really want one. Contrary to popular belief, I enjoy school, and learning in whatever way I can.

But if there is more than that - if I am really here to live one life, then I want to live one with adventure, and outreach, and purpose. If I only get one story, I want to live one that is filled with the capturing new experiences, of reaching out, of being socially active. Of helping others and volunteering my time and effort. If the gifts I have been given are ones of language, and adaptation, and other cultures... then I should embrace them as often as I can, and at every opportunity.

Jesus said He came to give me life, that I could live it more abundantly. Even if that goes no further than the town I live in, or the people I interact with daily, I want to know that I did my best with the things I was given.

God, let it be so.

on open roads and steam in candlelight

2008-01-15T00:11:00.000-08:00

Last night I was driving home under a cloudless sky. The highway was almost deserted; a melody drifting through the speakers of my radio. It was an empty road, with the clock winding closer to midnight.

I let the stars out the window to my left catch my eye. My jaw dropped. And it was amazing. I mean, one of the clearest nights, with the most defined constellations, and there I was in the middle of this universe that suddenly seemed larger than life. I almost pulled over, just to get outside my car and look up. The crescent of the moon looked enormous, hung right above the horizon. The illuminated half was so bright and brilliant that you could almost define the edges of the rest. It looked so close.

Larger than life. And I am so small.

On those days when the world seems so all about me, or my issues or problems; on the nights when I feel so comforted or so alone... all of this beauty exists outside of me. It's nights like those that I wonder how someone could think it all happened by accident. How someone could think up the formulas, theories or equations, or believe that by a million chemical accidents, I am here contemplating my own existence. How light exists outside of time, and how when I look up at the stars I am looking back in time.

How could it ever be by chance?

I guess having grown up going to church, I was exposed to Creationism early on. And it's not that I haven't had those doubting periods, or days when evolution and the big bang seem to make sense, or moments that I have wanted to leave the deity of God behind. But more often than not, I am just struck with beauty. With perfection in details. With the Someone Greater that I know had a hand in it.

Tonight it was snowing, and at the same time lightning was making the sky glow (which was a crazy combination I have never witnessed). I took a bath by candlelight, and watched the steam rise into the air. And even that seemed glorious all of a sudden, because I realized that in front of my eyes, steam is rising. And catching the light flickering from my candles.

And people will likely think I'm crazy for thinking it was so amazing. But the deeper people, I hope, will appreciate the magic that is creation. Even if you don't think God did it, it's still so amazing. Mind-boggling. Huge. The fact that leaves crack and wither and fall in the autumn, and that winter holds the ground in silence to be melted by the spring. The fact that the earth is tilted so we can experience seasons. The fact that I can see steam in candlelight. The fact that we will never be able to wrap our minds around exactly how small we are in comparison with everything else.

But we still matter.

I think above all the other magical things, that one is the most beautiful.
That I matter. That my heart and my passions and my goals in life matter. That I am unique and different, and that I am worth dying for. That a bigger hand holds my world in place, and it is steadfast.

And to think I am this amazed by looking up or seeing steam. Life is so great.

on finding my place

2008-01-10T00:56:00.000-08:00

I feel like me being here is finally falling into place.

That being in my town and my church is good,and makes sense. That my faith and spirituality are mine, and not hand-me-down religion. That even if I feel alone, I'm usually not. That even if I have acted like someone I'm not at times, I can still change, and there is Hope. That even if finances are tough, and my job is tough, and getting into school is tough, and getting readjusted to living here is tough... that it is all going to be okay.

It all sounds simple enough, and even looks simple in black and white.

But you have no idea how great it feels to say that and mean it.

Thank God. Really and truly.

on defining moments

2008-01-09T12:56:00.000-08:00

11 p.m. Snowed in.

There were a lot of things I wanted to do. Go down to Cafe Morro, drink a caramel latte, maybe wander to Rico's and get a Guiness. Read a book. Write some. Listen some. Spark a conversation with someone I don't know.

But there I was, watching the sky fall to the ground in snowflakes, building up out the window on my patio. There are a lot of things I miss about living in Seattle, or L.A., but I forgot about this. I forgot the way the whiteness covers everything. The way it washes everything. The way you can watch it fall in the glow of a streetlight. The way you can forget yourself in the magic of it all.

I had to go.

Five minutes later, a determined 21 year old opened the front door. Red, plaid pajama pants. A jacket too big. Two hoods tied around my chin like a child. Pants tucked into my shoes. The snow made it hard to push the screen open, but I slipped out, not quite as effortlessly as I would have hoped. I probably looked really awkward, but mentally, I was beyond that.

All I could do was stand in wonder.

I walked a little, feeling the snow under my feet, and in my shoes, watching the way it fell around me. I stretched out on my back and let the snowflakes fall on my face, eventually creating a haphazard snow angel. Honestly, I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself.

So, I went inside and got my sled.

The first attempt made me hope no one was watching. I slid down the middle of our snow-packed road about ten feet before I stopped, disappointed, wondering if my childhood sled-magic was gone. I tried again. Twenty feet. "Progress," I mumbled. A neighbors light went on in the front room.

Time to relocate.

It was a bit of a walk with the snow, but I dragged my sled behind me until I reached a spot that looked out over the city of Pullman, the lights glowing like coals in a fire, put under a haze by the blanket of falling snow. I found a very dignified looking evergreen tree to plop myself down beside. It sounds crazy, but I felt comforted it was there. Together we watched the snow fall in the orange glow of the streetlight, watched the sky fall to rest in a million pieces.

It was so silent that it was beautiful, the only sound being my exhaling, the snowflakes hitting the hood of my jacket. It was like this whole world was created as a gift for just me to enjoy.

There are few defining moments in my life. When I feel safest. When I feel close to God; closer to somehow understanding this mystery of life and beauty and pain. This was one of them.

"Thank you," I whispered to God for giving me the snow, and this moment.
Then, I was off. I smiled in delight, shoved off the top of the hill, and flew. It was not the most magnificent of sledding runs, but I felt the wind in my hair, the snow in my face, and when I wiped out, it was legendary. I sat where I fell for awhile, watched the cars pass by, watched the snow build up on my coat.

Cotton pants are not the best choice of sledding garb, if you want to know the half of it. I made a few more runs, laughed to break the silence, then treaded my way home.

I fell asleep counting my blessings. It was a great day.

on resolution

2008-01-04T21:36:00.000-08:00

Be more socially active instead of asleep. Read articles. Learn geography. Challenge yourself to be involved in the world any way you can, even if it's uncomfortable.

Strive to be more organized.

Begin to collect ideas for a book. Compile them in a notebook labeled 'Memoirs of a Life Deliberately Lived.' Then try to promote consistency by living deliberately.

Intentionally befriend people who defy social norms.

Frequent pawn shops and garage sales, and start collecting records. Organize them by artist, color, genre, or date released. This will perhaps help with the enjoyment of the organization.

Begin to read more foreign authors. Search for perspectives you may not have experienced before. Soak in the themes and even if they seem too complicated, try to get what you can from them.

Play guitar with a homeless person.

Dwell in scripture; not in the amount read or the pages you turn in a day, but in the content of the message, and the weight of the words. Do not underline what is read, in case someone else might notice. Try to let it rest in your heart.

Everything is going to be fine. Work on realizing this when in a bind or having a rough day.

Attempt to understand the subtle nuances between coffee blends. Also, and probably more socially helpful, wine. It would be nice to learn more about wine; goes nicely with cheese.

Learn how to photograph professionally. Not just take pictures, but to capture the essence of someone's heart in a frame. I would especially like more pictures of inanimate objects, sunsets, and facial expressions.

Give more. Whether that means around the house I live in, my family, financially, or the giving of my time to organizations that need it.

Listen more. Talk less.

Write as often as inspiration strikes; a sunrise, an open door, a brightly painted windowpane... create, be moved, help to move others, be inspired and open.

Get at least another semester of school done. If financially possible, finish your AA.

Reach the intermediete level of the Italian language. Spanish is great, and when you begin to struggle with the nuances of a different tongue, try to realize the benefits you will reap when you can carry on a meaningful conversation with millions more people than you could have before.

Think of something more creative than stickers and pictures to send to my 3 sponsored kids. They are in need, and they deserve the best.

Write a song of thanks and gratitude for someone else and the impact they have had on your life.

Host a Compassion Day at church.

Make amends with people you have wronged in your past. Whether that is asking forgiveness or letting them know you care.

Live with purpose and stand for things that need defending: children with empty bellies, families with no roof over their heads, stories that need to be told, and hearts that need friends.

Live intentionally. Love more and more unconditionally.

Welcome 2008. I think we will get along just fine.

on crying out

2008-01-04T17:32:00.000-08:00

Do not turn a deaf ear to me
or ignore the pleadings of my heart.
For all in all, I only want to be near to You.
To soak you in
to breathe you in like the something beautiful that You are.
But my actions they speak of some other wantings
the wantings of the humanity in me
that I've come to know so well.
How can I lay the world aside
in exchange for something greater?
How can I push aside the worthless wine and sleepless nights
in exchange for the childlike faith I once knew?
The days of my youth, while still somewhat here
are fleeing me faster
than ever before
and chasing after them is beginning to feel
more and more fruitless and
empty.
Bring me back to the days when I knew Your Words
and chased Your thoughts.
When all I wanted was to feel
my heart beating in sync with Your own.
Some people say that
knowing You is only in my head - a psychological deity
to sooth the depths of my lonliness...... the humanness I feel.
But something in me knows that it's all a lie.
Something screams within me that I need You
that You are the blood in my veins
the pathway to my heart
the Creator of my soul
the only spiritual substance that can satisfy.
All the things in this world I have tasted
have only left me wanting -the human caress
another emptied bottle
praises of men
academic achievement
or musical success.
It's all worthless you see.
Proclaim off the rooftops that my Jesus
is a manmade deity, a figment of my imagination
or a storybook hero.
Claim all you want that the Bible
is interpreted and innaccurate
is flawed and fallible
is inapplicable and imagined by man.
People can claim whatever and whichever they choose
but un-erased is the way I felt alive
the way that I moved and breathed
when You and when I were one and the same.
Explain that away, you who doubt.
His love is the greatest thing there is.
It's greater than your one night stands
it's bigger than your ocean of need
it blows away all preconceived notions of life and love
in all of their mystery.
Yes, I am a hypocrite.
a human, a liar, a worthless rag
-as we all seem to have become -
yes I will claim the Word but I will fall
and I will fail.
But the fault you find in me will not be found
in the One who is without fault.
And regardless of who and what you turn your life over to
He will love you the same.
If you are looking for perfection and a lack of hypocrisy
stop looking behind church doors
it is, after all, made up by people who are flawed and fallible.
I won't lie and say that I'm never far
from where I need to be
because lately it seems like that's the only place I am from Him.
God, when You feel far away from me
who moved? who relocated?
It was me.
I gave you up and my walls broke down
and the world of alcohol
and lonely sleepless nights crept into my routine.
Save me from my own ambition.
Save me from my aspirations.
Save me from thinking I'm immune to failure.
and take me back to the place when You were all I needed.

Because it's true
and You are all that I need.

on fitting the mold of stereotypical american ignorance

2007-12-25T00:14:00.000-08:00

Somehow, even though it just started, the end of the Christmas Season is crashing in upon us, and in twenty-four hours, to me at least, it will probably seem like lifetimes ago. I have learned a lot of lessons these past two seasons. Fall and winter, that is. I think there are periods in every person’s life that tend to feel more like learning seasons than others; this is one of mine.

Tonight my family and I went to see ‘Charlie Wilson’s War.’

We were some of the first people arriving, so obviously picked the best seats for optimal viewing pleasure. Brittany and I propped up our feet happily on the chairs in front of us, thinking it was Christmas Eve and it would probably remain a mostly-empty theater. Much to the peril of our legroom, however, an enormous family event or gathering came and filled up half the theater. My sister and I exchanged glances, or at least I did, and reluctantly confined my legs to the space in front of me.

The movie was about the Cold War, about people in the Middle East getting butchered by the Soviet Union. They showed clips of refugee camps, of children with arms that had been blown off, heard one little boy’s testimony of how a child he knew got split in half thinking a shiny bomb was a toy. Tents and poverty stretched as far as the eye could see. At one point, one of the characters from America asks a little girl, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” with good intentions. I mentally winced when I imagined what the response might have been.

‘Alive,’ I thought. Just alive.

My car is packed and ready to drive home from here in Seattle tomorrow, and it is loaded with more presents than half the world could ever hope for, and as the credits rolled, I realized how petty my worldview has become, and how shallow I can be. There are countries filled with people who, from our standpoint, would have no reason to wake up in the morning. They worry about bombs, or open gunfire, or their children being blown into unrecognizable pieces.

And I worry about legroom.

I’m so tired of being an ignorant nation. Of people who turn on each other, and people who claim to hate those on the opposite end of the political spectrum. Of people who focus so much on differences than the aspirations we all share. I’m so tired of being part of a people who can rest easily knowing the conflict is far away tonight; knowing that at least we have a safe roof over our own heads. It’s so easy to ignore genocide and war when it’s not in our backyard isn’t it? I, like most, am also thankful for a roof over my head; for gifts and new memories to take home with me. Those are great things, and I’m not implying we should not enjoy them. But unlike most, for some reason I can’t just rest easy anymore. My heart is filled with unrest, knowing that my world is changing, and I know nothing of it. Political boundaries are being defined, nations are being crumbled, people are dying and I don’t even know where most of those countries are on a map.

I was really convicted today.

Bill, my stepdad, was sort of weird this morning, a little bit left-of-center. We opened stockings this morning (we celebrate a day early because us kids leave tomorrow) and he didn’t seem quite right. “I just feel that there are needy people, hungry people, in our area, and we spent all this money on knick-knacks and things we don’t really need,” he explained, after being approached. “We, unlike half the world, have everything we need, and almost anything we want. When will we ever use this, or that?”

Our family’s table sat in uncomfortable silence.

“I agree,” someone voiced. “Then let’s pick up all our presents and give them to a kid in downtown Seattle,” Bill retorted, knowing it was easier said than done. In the end, we decided to work out a plan next year with fewer gifts, and more giving. Surprisingly, the whole group of us was excited about it. But the way he was passionately disturbed about it struck a chord in me. I want to be that passionate about things that really matter. Not my Christmas list. Not the new iPod, or the new laptops, or the latest fashion trends.

We are blessed beyond what we could ever dream, in abundance or need. I know not everyone follows Jesus, and I’m not saying I do the greatest job, but even if you just think he was a great guy, he pushed feeding the poor. The hungry. The needy. He pushed for love over hate and peace above violence. Most of all, just love.

And I want to be more like that. Socially conscious and active instead of asleep.

I know the world is big, and we individually are small. I know sometimes in the rush of life, it’s hard to stop and take a moment to think of those less fortunate than you are. I know we get consumed in our coffee cups every morning, in traffic and in the work days that never seem to end. But I suppose what I’m getting at is that change starts with attitude in one. And when that attitude turns to an action, even if it seems small, it’s still getting us someplace.

Have a great rest of the season… enjoy time with others, in your relationships and the way you interact. And when you give thanks this year, be it in prayer or just in your soul, be sure to give thanks for the little things.

Because I’m realizing that it’s the little things in life, that make life everything.

Merry Christmas.

on how christmas haunts me

2007-12-21T01:41:00.000-08:00

I am often haunted by Christmas.

I don’t mean that it’s evil or that it carries negative connotations, or even that this ‘haunting’ is something bad. But Christmas for me is something that year after year continues to defy what I think it is, and what I think it will be. It’s daunting. I think I have my definition all packaged and under my sleeve, and then it slips between my fingers again. It’s much like the word ‘home’ in that it is relative, and you could stop ten people on the street and ask what it means, and come up with ten different responses. It’s also like the word ‘home’ in the sense that it’s constantly changing.
Our whole lives will be spent redefining what it means.

Growing up in a Christian home, Christmas it has obviously always meant the birth of the One that came to save me. That came to wear the skin of all of us. This definition hasn’t really escaped me, it’s just that more and more I’m realizing how deep and profound this season of the year really is. I’m beginning to think that the older we get, the more complex our perception of it will be.

During and shortly following the divorce it was redefined as ‘the switch.’ Christmas Eve with one parent, Christmas Day with another. We would be bundled up in the snow of Eastern Washington, our bags packed, parents exchanging cold greetings, and then the awkward silence of the car ride home. I might envy people whose parents are still married just for not having ‘the switch.’ It hardly felt like the season to be jolly when all you could think about was the other parent driving back home alone.

When I was in my first serious relationship, it became the time to share our families, our traditions, and our first gift exchange, all smiles and good memories that I still have today. To me, nothing compares to sharing those things because they are so inherently a part of who you are. Even if you try to escape your history, it will always find you.

As of this week, with the birth of my new little brother Paul, it has come to mean new life. New little eyes that squint open and look at you fascinated. It means new tiny hands and feet to be fawned over by the family women, a new heart beating in a chubby little chest. A whole, tiny, complete little person that can fit in the nook of my elbow, who will have his own dreams and hopes and wishes, and family memories. It doesn’t matter that he is only half my blood. He is entirely my brother. And I will punch anyone who tries to tell me otherwise.

And now that I have arrived to celebrate Christmas on the west side of the mountains, it means reconnecting with the sister I love and miss living with. Reconnecting with old friends and catching up with more recent ones. Visiting places I used to work and know so well, and being happy that my life hasn’t taken me farther down that same road.

I get stressed out and frustrated sometimes about stupid things, especially during the holidays. There are things I spend my time worrying about that will matter no more in a year than what the weather was this afternoon. I worry that I’m not where I’m supposed to be, geographically and spiritually, and I wonder if I will ever be content with where I am. I suppose if you asked me though, I would say I never want to be content where I am. I hope I never am. It’s when people get comfortable in only living where they live, in only seeing things they’ve seen before, and in only reading about the rest of the world in books and magazines that we become stagnant. And I’m guilty of that too sometimes.

I’m happy to relay to you that this Christmas I have come to realize how blessed I am. I have not one, but two halves of my family that love and adore me. Where there once was one sibling, there is now four. Where relationships have ended, new people have come to fill my life with laughter. There are gifts downstairs enough for a small country, underneath a beautiful Christmas tree, it’s white lights glowing like smoldering embers in a dying fire. I have a couple bucks in my bank account, a roof over my head, and a job to go home to.

I might not ever be able to define ‘Christmas,’ or ‘home.’ They may always haunt me, continuing to change with every year that passes. And although that used to bother me, I’m starting to be okay with it. Maybe defining words like those is what life is about. Finding new meaning to add to tradition. Finding new ways to count blessings.

I know that I have already found many.

on that night on beach boulevard

2007-12-15T03:24:00.000-08:00

It could have been me.
I'm happy that you are happy, finally.
And I am even more happy that you found someone happy to be with you.
Because that's what you deserve.

Sometimes I get down on myself for the way it ended.
For the way you won't return my messages.
The way I dragged you through my dreams
kicking and screaming.

But the more I think about it the more I realize that this is life.
It is learning through mistakes
growing through pain.
It's being mature enough to see a picture of someone you used to love
with someone they love now
and smile because they are where they need to be in life.

It is difficult sometimes,
but when I smile, I smile because I didn't settle.
I didn't settle for what we were
even though sometimes that was beautiful.

It could have been me in that photograph
all smiles and eyes glazed over in happiness,
but I know when the flash ended
and the camera was put away
we would have been where we started.
Finishing another bottle
probably beginning another endless argument.
Me running down Beach Boulevard with you chasing after me,
my head in my hands,
your heart beneath my feet.
Huntington Beach had never seemed so cold
as you found me sobbing on a street corner
in a parking lot far away.
Making promises you couldn't keep down on your knees
and me making them right back at you.

I was so good at stepping on your toes
and claiming that you were crowding my dreams.
You were so good at accepting me for all I was.

I'm sorry, for what it's worth.
Not because I would wish us back
or because I would ever try to pry you away
from the happiness you have found.
But because it's a shame we have to be happy apart,
with no promise of friendship or ever keeping in touch.It's a shame our paths can't cross again.

So stay warm in the California sunshine;
I still have my mix that makes me think of you.
We listened to it when times were easier.
With the windows rolled down, my feet on the dashboard,
the sun glaring off the windshield and slicing
between the boughs of the palm trees.
And you know how I loved the palm trees.

I don't wish you back. But I wish you well.

on simplicity and seasons changing

2007-12-10T03:19:00.000-08:00

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Even though I've seen it a hundred times, falling snow is one of those sensations in life, for me anyway, that can't be explained. It gets me giddy like a child inside, and I watch the way the flakes fall to the ground with wonder. How can something so simple be so beautiful?

I think that maybe it's the way that snow makes everything look more simple. More perfect. There are no blemishes, no muddy colors to cloud the purity.

I used to feel a little melancholy whenever the snow season would come crashing in around me. It felt gloomy, like some shadow was being cast over the earth. But now I feel like life is somehow mirrored in this scene.

There is a purpose for the seasons, and for change. When things fall down or drift away in the autumn; when everything stands still in the winter, it is only making way for spring. And in the same way the ground is, I am covered, to be made new in the coming season.

With my cup of tea in hand, in the middle of this night, I'm finding comfort watching the sky fall to rest on the ground. Hope.

on openness and delicious ambiguity

2007-12-10T03:09:00.000-08:00

Sometimes there is so much to say, but so little that can actually be said. I have felt that way a lot lately. Struggling to stay open when this world is screaming at me that being open is dangerous. Risky. Foolish, even. That spilling my heart out on my sleeve is overrated. That 'open-ness' belongs in fairy tales and PG-13 romantic comedies.

Lately I have been less than the person I want to be. I'm sure that most people come to that point in their life and spirituality, where no matter how hard you fight to stay sane, insanity comes crashing down on you regardless. Self-inflicted sometimes; more difficult. It doesn't seem to make a difference whether you have been following all the rules of right and wrong, turning left when you get green arrows and skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk. Outwardly you can look like you have it all together, that you live life as it should be. And maybe you do.

But what I'm finding more and more lately is that I don't think there will come a day when you wake up and say "I made it. I am who I always wanted to be, and all of my finish lines are now behind me." I think life is beautiful because you can wake up every morning and start over with everything new. You can open your eyes as if for the first time and see it. New weather. New mercies. New blessings. Sunshine on my window pane and a couple of dollars in my wallet.

Jeanine (the friend I live with) has been teaching me a lot lately. She has become a mentor of sorts, one who has more wisdom than I do and one that has lived a life for others. When I stepped in the door tonight, she couldn't wait to give me two things she bought for me today at the Co-Op.

"Look, Dayna, check this out!"

She smiled and handed me a bag of cashews. I was momentarily confused.
My eyes slipped over the packaging until I saw the name. 'Sing Buri' Cashews. I smiled and her eyes caught mine. I might be cheesy, but I felt like that was meant for me today. Sing, Buri. Sing Buri! Not just literally, but resonating in who you are. Life is a song to sing. If you aren't who you want to be, and if you wake up wondering where you're going, the fight doesn't have to be over.

Jeanine handed me my second gift. A magnet with a quote on it. "I just felt like this was totally you," she said.

'Some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, and taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.'

If I am learning anything through the difficulty that is this year, I think it can't be said better than that.

on personal politics and closed mindedness

2007-12-10T03:07:00.000-08:00

"Nothing on earth scares me more than a conservative Christian." -random person at work

How did America get to this point?... this point where name calling and finger pointing are what we spend our time and energy on? When did some "open minded" liberals give in to the notion that everyone in a category is alike? That because of outspoken extremists, we are all ignorant and lofty.

To me, nothing is more ironic than a closed-minded liberal, standing on a soapbox pleading for the peaceful existance of society... and in the same sentance assuming that the entirety of a political or religious group is corrupt.

I'm not claiming a lack of hypocrisy or a wealth of perfection on either side of the spectrum, but one must realize that (for instance) the small percentage of Muslim extremists who spread terror and destruction do not speak for the entirety of their (inherently peaceful) faith.

So it is with Corporate Christian America.

You can't only focus on the TV evangelists and grand Presidential failures, but on the hearts of the people inside the faith. Most of this is often overshadowed by the media frenzies and the recent marraige between political parties, their candidates, and their assorted faiths. But look close, and hidden closely behind the flaws in our humanity is a heart of love.
THIS was and still is the real message of Jesus, who, instead of pursuing politics and personal gain, dined and dwelt among the least of us... the lowly, the tax collectors, the prostitutes, and those deemed unfit for society.

If Jesus was visibly walking through the streets of today, I think he would hang out in the corners of the world that most 'Christians' would be terrified of. With a homeless man on his street corner, in gay bars, on the front steps of whore houses, and in soup kitchens. THIS is the real message of Christianity, which is misrepresented in the church mostly because we ARE human and make mistakes, both in our thinking and our actions.

Anyway. It's a saddening thing to me that what people (including Christians) live for these days are the things that divide us instead of the things that unite us. That people would rather picket and make rash generalizations than actively pursue chage. And by 'pursuing change' I don't mean bashing liberals or putting down conservatives... I don't mean standing up for your own personal politics. Who really cares? I'm talking about feeding the hungry. Uniting nations instead of waging wars. Fighting for equal educational opportunities and for understanding among all people.

As a nation, we stand divided. As a people we are rich in our differences and perspectives. We all see the horizon differently, the light hitting our faces at different times and in different ways. Why do we find it so difficult to grasp the world of the things we share? Is it because we dwell in the realm of our differences?

In this supposedly 'great' country, the reasons we can't see past the end of our own metaphorical noses are endless. But I think mountains could be moved if we would drop our assumptions, break apart our soapboxes and recognize that the problem is not, in fact, in one political party or in one particular religion, but it is in each of us. It's me. It's you. It is statements like the one I heard in passing today.

"I am not everyone, but I am one." -Helen Keller

You have the power to choose (and I'm talking to my fellow moderates and conservatives as well as anyone else). To choose between ignorance or open-mindedness. And true open-mindedness is recognizing that we will never see the sun set or rise the same way. It is the humbling of ourselves and the understanding that the different ways we exist and were created is not a burden...not the root of another problem. But it's a blesing to help jump start us closer to getting a more complete understanding of this world we find ourselves in.

Seeing the horizon from five different angles can only help us paint it better.

But I digress.

on the beautiful nights

2007-12-09T02:57:00.000-08:00

Apr. 21, 2007

Summer has never seemed so cold.

As May approaches, bags are being packed. Plans are being made for next fall as the new season comes crashing in around us. Some faces won't be back when September rolls around, and it's hard to feel like this year is really this close to over. I know most people are just telling me not to worry about it, because fall will come, and with it will be new friendships and faces new memories and certainly new Facebook albums (psh, of course). But every year is different, and while I know a lot of things will be the same, there will also be a million things different.

I came to this place skeptical of what it could offer me. Still clinging to my past back home, I was slow to pursue a life here and slow to make attachments. I was quick to judge and hesitant to really get involved.

But over time, I noticed that few things can compare to walking down the street with the California sun on my face and some good tunes in my ear. To living vicariously through APU, and getting to know some amazing people in the process. To standing at the top of a mountain looking down on the valley with some of the people you love the most. To getting to know my beautiful sister in a totally new way. To the nights I would bring pie to Bowles on Waffle Wednesdays. To Richie's juice party. To driving with the windows down, wind playing in your hair and face, looking out on the ocean. To driving down the PCH singing along with songs from the 90's. To Ian's playlists. To donut man runs at 1 am. To really living instead of just existing.

This year I feel like even though I made some mistakes, no one cared less about me because of it. It's one of the first times in my life I felt like I was really accepted not just for who I am, but for who I am supposed to be, and everything I'm going to be.

So thanks to all of you who made this year what it was. Because to me, it was everything I had wanted and more. I can't wait for more memories, more laughter, more new friends and another new beginning.

Live it well.

maybe our eyes have been closed our whole lives

2007-12-09T02:55:00.000-08:00

Mar. 27, 2007

We try so hard to fight past the facades
and the faces we put on to look stronger or better; faster or wiser.

We're not fooling anyone.

Our faces scan the crowds for a heart
that could maybe give us that much needed shoulder to lean on.

We've been searching for love since the day we were born
looking in every corner of every empty room
and broken heart.

We put up walls to protect ourselves from the hurt that might get us
while spending our free time breaking down others.
What are we searching for?

What are we looking for?

It seems like the whole world just wants something worth fighting for
or worth dying for.
A hand to hold on the open seas when the tide is coming in too fast.
Could it be the answers to life are easy to find?
Easier than we ever expected?

Could it be that maybe the kinship we've been longing for
is in the one beside you in an elevator
or behind you in line?

Could it be that maybe our eyes have been closed our whole lives?
Everyone has a story.

there's something about california

2007-12-09T02:54:00.000-08:00

Feb. 19, 2007

There is something beautiful about the way the sun sets in California. I don't know if it's the palm trees, the smog, or just my imagination, but it's true.

There's something hopeful there; you can drive around aimlessly with the mountains beside you and sun sinking behind the L.A. skyline, and know that when all is said and done, you're going to be okay. Life will go on. The way your relationships come and go does not always reflect who you are as a person. And even if thinking all that isn't enough, you can look out your window at a passing palm tree and say, "Screw it, I'm in California, it's 85 in Februaryâ€¦ what else matters?" Then take a moment to laugh at yourself because you sound shallow and uneducated (but you still know that it's true).

I'm not going to lie; life for me lately has been a little less than beautiful.

Life throws you a curve, and all of a sudden everything you had planned out is now unscripted and improvised. But I think the moments and days I live for, are the ones when I realize that life isn't about beauty, it's about perspective. It's not about your petty struggles or the way your last relationship ended. The best thing about it all? That it's not all about you. Not at all. In fact, no matter how many mistakes you make today, or how many people break your heart or let you down, the world will turn tomorrow.

You can either let that depress you because you feel like you aren't the center of attention, or you can look at it like I do. If the rest of the world is still functioning, so can you. Most of the world knows what it's like to love and be let down. You're not alone.

If nothing else, and if it's not about being in California, then that's why my sunsets are beautiful lately.

I know that there are millions of people out there looking for the same things that I am, searching for a heart that beats the same way. Trying to find someone to understand you in all your imperfections and dreams; trying to be someone more than just a face in a crowd. I guess I find comfort in knowing that right now, someone else is wide-eyed awake wanting what I want. They are unsettled, just like me.

Even though what I have in life now is not what I always thought it would be, I wouldn't trade where I'm at for anywhere else. What I have is beautiful, and it's an adventure, it's an opportunity to make a life for myself somewhere new, and it may be far from ordinary, but it is mine.

And that's all I could ask for.

go ahead and chase your youth

2007-12-09T02:51:00.001-08:00

Feb. 11, 2007

I would have given you the world -
or at least as much of it as I could've salvaged.
I moved my personal mountains
and offered to give you my heart and my devotion.
I gave you pieces of myself that I won't ever get back. Can't get back.
You say you like being free? You say you like doing what you want?
Then go ahead. I will genuinely support you.
Chase after that, and see how long it takes
to realize you are unfulfilled.
To realize that when the day is done and the bottle is empty
you won't have me to come home to.
No, I am not the most beautiful, or the most perfect;
not the most interesting or the most wise.
I may not light up a stage again or sing another song in my lifetime.
But I would've given you my everything.
I would have given the world to see you smile
to hear your heart beat for awhile.
No questions asked.
Maybe that's not enough to make you trust me -
I guess I don't understand why it's scary to let me love you.
Life is putting yourself out there. You take a chance.
And it's true. You might get burned.
You might get torn down, and ripped apart
but you can keep running.
Don't be scared to walk the line; I believe in you
and I know you can do it.
So make your decision, and make it wisely -
I honestly just want you to find happiness, whether that is with me
or without me.
But I can't wait around forever
for you to realize that while I am not perfect, I am still priceless.
While I am not the most beautiful, I am the most passionate.
I may not be able to give you the world, but I gave you my songs -
my chords and melodies.
The most intimate thing I could ever give -
words I wrote in my deepest moments.
So go on; chase your youth. Live the (single) life.
Pursue doing what you want to do.
But when you come home at the end of the night
and flip the light switch on,
and no one is home to throw their arms around you
to tell you how much you mean to them...
it won't be because I didn't want to be there.
Because more than anything... that's what I wanted.
Just you.

when life is crazy

2007-12-09T02:50:00.000-08:00

Nov. 23, 2006

Sometimes the combination of a bunch of seemingly random things... can make life so hard. So there isn't even one thing wrong really, it's just the culmination of all the small things.

And most of them are your own doing, and some of them you couldn't change. But in the end, when it all comes down to it... you just want to change everything.

Life is funny, and so beautiful. But sometimes it throws me a curve I wasn't ready for. Sometimes the people that know you the deepest and the best are the hardest to approach with problems you need to let out. Especially when you just need to feel beautiful, and loved, and to curl up in one of your friends arms and just cry. Like maybe being closer to the situation makes it harder to understand.

I don't know what I'm getting at. Happy thanksgiving.

on liars and actors

2007-12-09T02:49:00.000-08:00

Nov. 14, 2006

It's hard to be different sometimes.

Different from what the world or your friends tell you to be. Different from what your culture or your family predetermined you to be. Hard to push past the surface and ask yourself... 'who do I really want to be?'

I know a lot of people that change who they are depending on who they're with. Not just little things... they change completely. Like two separate people. It would be easy to judge them, only I am sometimes guilty of the same thing.

Why can't we all just be real? Why can't we all just be who we are, and let that be that - no facades or fakers, or liars or people who pretend to be something they aren't?

Why can't people be genuine? And committed? And true?

Why. This world is so messed up.

Be who you are.

on hollywood and broken dreams

2007-12-09T02:47:00.000-08:00

October 10, 2006

Walking down the crowded streets of Hollywood.

People of every shape and kind and color wander these streets, each for their various reasons. Some are snapping pictures of theaters or things they have only read about in books. Some are selling their faces in costume for the benefit of making a dollar by appearing in the photographs of tourists. Some wander without a cause. Some are looking for fame and the American Dream of rags to riches.

I take a look around me at the empty faces and vacant stares of some, and the hopeful and innocent eyes that belong to others. And I wonder: how many dreams were born and buried on this avenue? How many seeds of ideas were born, and hopes turned to dust because of the hold that the idea of 'Hollywood' has on people? Are we all just actors on a stage as life is being played out or our actions the result of Something Greater... something that we, as finite humans, could never understand?

What is it that we find so captivating about the faces on the screen?

Is it their unattainability, their distant status? Is it the way they display many of the universal human emotions with such accuracyâ€¦ or sometimes inaccuracy? They stun us with their beauty and shock us by always knowing what to say and when to say it. We marvel over their perfect homes and beautiful lifestyles. After all, that's what television and movies have become. Beautiful plots with beautiful characters who lead beautiful lives.

We love them in all of their glory and perfection, and we despise them for somehow attaining the lifestyles we will spend forever trying to achieve.

What if we were content with the simple life?

I know that in dreams there lies something beautiful. I know that there will never be any harm in reaching for the stars and that there is something simple and amazing, human and finite in the way we will all cling to hopes that we know might not ever be completed.

What if there is something more that I'm missing?

I spend my days dreaming of the ways I could change the world, if I only had the abilitiesâ€¦ or the moneyâ€¦ or the supportâ€¦ or the experience. I dream of changing people with my lyrics and appealing to the human heart and the human experience. I cry out for passion, and for peace. I dream of getting the high and lofty to look down at the mess we've made of what we were given. And we were given so much.

I hope someday, one day, I can be satisfied with where I am.

It seems as though I'm always wishing time away; wishing I were older or wiser, wishing for the days that my eyes will finally see the rest of this world, longing for days when I won't be plagued by school and its rigor. Always wishing for tomorrow, never lingering in today. How much more effective would I be if I would live in the moment instead of yesterday or the days to come?

It's easy to wish time away. I think at one point or another, we all do. But today is all I will ever have. It is all I can grasp. It is all that I can fathom. More importantly, it's all that I can change.

There's nothing wrong with shooting for the stars, and only making it to the moon, as long as you remain content with what you have and where you're at. I look up at the big TV's and the billboards, the skyscrapers and the empty looks in peoples' eyes. I look down this boulevard of hopes and fears and dreams, and I see beauty. Beauty in the hope that one day I won't long for all of this material compensation. Beauty in the dream that one day I will reach what I'm running towards, and I won't have sold my soul in the process. Beauty in that one day I might have the courage to look beyond my own needs and use what I have to fulfill the needs of others.

There is beauty in looking beyond circumstance and into your undiscovered future. My dreams are to change the world. But it first has to begin in the changing of myself.

And therein rests the journey I will come to call my life. I wonder where the path will lead tomorrow, but more importantly: how I will walk that path with what I have been given today?

on the beauty of sponsored children

2007-12-09T02:46:00.000-08:00

Oct. 2, 2006

Entering my apartment is always the same routine.

Juggling books and my overweight purse and trying to dig for keys in the rubble that I can't ever seem to find time to clean. I flick on the lights and try to find some sense of order as I kick off my shoes and look around to see who is home.

Yesterday after this routine was all but played out, I noticed the mail on the counter. Two letters from two of my three children that I sponsor. There is nothing more beautiful to me than the letters I get from these kids. Always overflowing with gratitude and excitement from the last letters I sent them, they thank me for every sheet of stickers I send them and they tell me how much they and their families love me. Yes, I am a pansy, but I am brought to tears almost every time I open one.

Geographically, they are so far away from me.

From Peru, to El Salvador, and into the jungles of Rwanda, my letters somehow make it to each of them. Somehow, I get this amazing opportunity to give these kids some part of myself. About five cups of Starbucks coffee that I don't drink gives them everything they need to excel in life, and gives them the chance to make that difference that we are all craving to make in this world. They get food. Clean water. Vaccinations. Materials for school. Bibles to read. Tutors to help them study. I can't even comprehend how giving so little can produce so much in their lives.

I get caught up sometimes, in these petty struggles of daily life. Of paying bills and getting to work on time; of finding my keys in the abyss of my purse and worrying that I won't quite make a grade in psychology class. Then I get these letters... that are so full of hope, and gratitude, and childlike faith, and I realize that life is about so much more than what we make of it.

I daydreamed tonight about getting to someday go to El Salvador and meet Jennifer. I can imagine it all in my mind; the way that she would smile at me, and the hope and beauty that would be in her eyes. I can imagine the way she would take my hand and show me her family. I can picture trying to communicate with her in my limited and broken Spanish, and I can hear her laughter as I mispronounce every other word. She calls me 'Tia Dayna'. Aunt Dayna. She draws me pictures with broken crayons on the back of every letter.

And to me, they are the most beautiful pictures this world has ever seen.

There are many places in this world that I dream of visiting. There are scores of civilizations and peoples that I am passionate about visiting and experiencing. But I think that the day I get the chance to throw my arms around one of my little boys or my beautiful little girl will be one of the most spiritually satisfying days of my life.

I think that they bless me infinitely more than I could ever hope to bless them.

on riding waves and rising above

2007-12-09T02:45:00.000-08:00

Sept. 3, 2006

I am the type of person to get annoyed when people use metaphors excessively or in situations that are out ouf place. Fully aware of this, I apologize if this fits the mold.

Today I was out at Huntington Beach with Brittany and Cody, and it was wonderful. We dropped our stuff off and headed into the waves. We kept trying to get out past where the waves were breaking so we could ride the swells as they were on their way into the shore.

And it hit me tonight that that's what life is about.

Living life isn't about riding waves the way you plan to. Life is about working hard to get to where you want to be; you won't always get there, and most of your time and energy will be spent in the journey. Sometimes it will be easy to just float past things and let things go and other times you'll get knocked over and knocked down and get metaphorical saltwater in your nose. Sometimes it gets hard to fight all the nothingness that crashes in on us, and we give up, and we lose hope, and we give in to the notion that we won't ever be where we need to be. And the harder we fight it, the more endless we feel.

But there is hope.

And when you can't win over a wave by hiding beneath it or fighting it head on... sometimes you just have to take what you get. And you might get pushed back, and ripped apart. But there is beauty in the fleeting moments that we can rise above the swells to see the bigger picture. There is peace in those few seconds when we almost get swept away by a massive wave... but live to ride the crest of it and know its power.

It is only when we have been crushed and knocked down that we begin to realize how beautiful it is to finally defeat that which often defeats us.

And we will overcome, after all, in the end.

I know where I'm going.

on the unsatisfaction of an empty life

2007-12-09T02:43:00.000-08:00

Sept. 1, 2006

Does life ever just creep you out?

For no apparent reason? The fact that time is around us and passing us by just hits you, and you realize that life is short. Life is valuable. And we waste it. Or don't recognize it.

I was browsing through the madness that is myspace tonight. And it is madness. I know so many people that it's insane, but it's always fun to skim the pages of my friends and see how people are doing when I get the time. It's weird to catch up with people via myspace because you have no idea where they're at or what they've been through since the last time you heard from them. All you have to go by are these pictures, or their words, or the people in their Top 8 (or top whatever). And whatever ties you may have had with this person, whether it be work, school, friends... those might be gone now.

You realize that change happens. People change. People change what they value and who they want to be. And that in itself changes who they are.

For some reason, life never seems as simple to me as it does to most people. I dig for complexity. Hidden meanings. Lost relationships. I struggle with finding a spirituality that fits me... it's Christianity. Yet the way the 'church' runs things sometimes is just so foreign to me. I try to make friends on all ends of the spectrum, in all walks of life, and try to discover their secrets. What do they find happiness in? Why do they struggle? Who do they value? What are their dreams? Why do we all unravel at some point?

I'm happy, but I'm discontent.

I was singing a song I wrote awhile ago called 'Song for the Unsatisfied.'

And I think I will always be unsatisfied. I think that humans were designed to always feel like there was a little something missing... some part of them that is incomplete. So that in the places that we lack, we can realize that outside of this life there is Greater, and there is More. I am unsatisfied when I can't be there for someone. I am unsatisfied when I feel like I'm not reaching my potential. I even get unsatisfied if I see that 47 people look at my blog in a day and not one person has anything to say. Isn't that silly?
We live lives based on the responses of others. We live for their encouragement, and we run from their critiques. We strive for social perfection and shy away from inner beauty.

What a funny thing, this life.

on chasing rainbows and faded dreams

2007-12-09T02:42:00.001-08:00

August 26, 2006

Chasing our dreams can feel fruitless sometimes.

We spend our days wondering what waits at the end of this road we're on. We dream of changing the world, and touching the stars, and making a difference. We make plans, and set goals. Some of us spend our days in full pursuit of the things that inspire us, while other saunter casually down the road of life, knowing that the end of the road will rise up to meet them regardless of their pace. We are all so different from one another. But so much alike.

We bump our way along this road we travel, and at an obstacle or trial we bail out or compromise. We settle for less. While shooting for the stars we settle on a mountaintop and set up camp, because it's safe... it's comfortable. Men and women who dreamed of feeding the hungry or becoming doctors instead become janitors or telemarketers. One of the most promising minds in a college drops out because he feels inadequate. A girl walks away from being a dancer for a better paying and less satisfying job. Every day thousands of people just let life pass them by, deciding to put their energy towards being the best they can where they are at.

Look around you.

The grocery lady in her faded uniform who smiles gracefully as she slips into middle age. This was not her dream. When she was asked as a child who she wanted to be when she grew up, this was not her answer. The man in his fourties flipping burgers didn't always aspire for a 40 cent raise. It's hard stuff... this chasing of the pot of gold that may or may not be at the end of the rainbow. And who really knows? Who is to say that it won't be full of something worthless when you finally arrive? What defines who you are if the rainbow you've been chasing your whole life turns out to be a false promise?

I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life and the person I want to become; the musician that I long to be, the dreams I want to call my own, the wife I want to be someday to someone, and the mother I want to be to my children... the legacy that I will leave behind when I am gone.

Chances are, the world won't know my name. My face won't illuminate a billboard or rest on the cover of a magazine, and that isn't the way I always dreamed that my life would be. I dreamed of people singing along with my music, or sitting on a stage with my guitar in hand, and knowing that things that I wrote somehow made a difference. That they changed something.

I'm not implying that my life is over, or that those dreams aren't possible now. But I've realized now that making a difference or changing the world is something I can accomplish without my name being known. Who ever said that the healing of a wound was more dramatic than the healing of the human heart? Who decided that being a full-time mother was less noteworthy than going platinum or gracing the pages of a medical journal?

What does it really take to change the world anyway? And what's stopping you?

I will dream. I will sing and I will dance. I will aspire and I will change things. And while the world may not know my name, I will know the difference between a failure and a success. While my music may never make it past the ears of the people that love me, it might make a difference in one of them. And the smallest difference might mean the world to someone else. Life is a chain reaction. It is the dedicating of yourself to the people around you and the surroundings that you're in. It's doing the best you can with the things you've been given.

Maybe chasing our rainbows isn't so fruitless after all.

when you remain

2007-12-09T02:40:00.000-08:00

August 21, 2006

There comes a point in every sleepless night when everyone else has long turned out their lights and closed their eyes to the world.

And you remain.

No traffic whizzing past your door, no friends awake to remind you of your inner beauty, and no song to play that could perfectly fit the loneliness that matches your mood. Because you aren't really alone; because really, across the expanses of land and ocean, there is someone somewhere who is lying there awake and dreaming the same dreams and naming their fears. Just like you.

This world is such a funny thing. How could I feel so alone when I'm in the middle of one of the world's most densely populated landscapes? Surrounded by city lights. When I'm blessed with friends beyond compare, in numbers some can only dream of?

I know we all feel a little bit alone sometimes. Like we're lost in the blur that becomes our days. Like we're just a face in a crowd. But knowing that other people feel the same never takes away from the odd and not-quite-melancholy sensation that comes at this ungodly hour of the night [that has somehow become morning].

But it's alright.

Come tomorrow morning when I roll out of bed, this will have passed. I'll forget for awhile how I could have ever been this empty. And the sun will shine, the traffic will fly past my street again and the palm trees I can see from my window will look as Californian as ever.

And life will go on.

the people collector

2007-12-09T02:38:00.000-08:00

August 9, 2006

It's time to go.

Leaving almost anything is difficult for me. I'm one of those people with a cluttered life... I don't mean cluttered as in messy, and it's not for a lack of cleanliness. I have a hard time letting go of anything, whether it be people, old CD's, books I will probably never read again or trinkets that for one reason or another used to hold some unique significance to me. Between all of those, it's mostly just people.

I am a people collecter. Some people collect beanie babies, others collect their stamps or old fashioned model cars. But me? I collect people. I revel in memories of people, the outcasts and the beautiful, the ones that are going places and the ones that are going nowhere, the bold and the meek alike. My soul rests in the comfort of knowing that I have spent every day investing myself into the lives of others.

So I suppose it's natural that now, upon the leaving of the place where most of the people I love remain, that I feel a sort of disconnectedness with the idea of leaving them. Like everyone else is staying while I'm taking a step in another direction, unsure of whether returning to this place will ever be in my future again.

Loving people is such a funny thing, in a completely serious way. You live your life surrounded by them, guided by them, befriended by them, betrayed by them and loved by them. They each make you who you are, their actions shaping you in a different way. Life consists of the making, breaking, changing and letting go of relationships, so it's odd that letting go of them sometimes feels so hard. There will obviously be the whole-hearted attempt to still know people back home as well as you always did... but I know that things change. I can only hope that I made a memorable difference in at least somebody's life while I was here.

I think that's all any of us could ask for.

the vision of starbucks

2007-12-09T02:37:00.001-08:00

August 9, 2006

There are few things comparable to a cup of coffee at the original Starbucks on Pike Place in Seattle. I don't mean just the cup of coffee. I mean the entire experience it takes to actually receive that cup of coffee.

The aura is intoxicating, with rich smells of coffee beans from all corners of the earth filling the air; coffee grown in places like Guatamala, Kenya, and Indonesia, the names of which you only know in text books or by pictures in geography class. The titles of the present blends available, 'Kopi Kampung,' 'Sumatra,' or 'Sulawesi' roll off your tongue as exotic as a midnight in Morocco must be. It is a whirlwind of activity, with people calling out drinks and crowding in and out of the door to catch a glimpse at the Mecca of native Northwesterners. The smart natives however don't get their coffee from this establishment on their way to work every morning. No, they go up the street a block to avoid the often irritating swarm of tourists who pronounce the name 'Starboo-ks' and can't ever decide what the word frappucino really means (it's a blended cup of frozen goodness... why is it so difficult?).

Sometimes, though I've been immersed in this place of madness many times, I return to it again. There is something charming about the chaos that hits me the instant I walk through the door; the cashier expertly tossing the newly designated cups to the baristas waiting behind the counter. It's like a perfectly choreographed dance, people's cravings for both history and coffee being fulfilled while a trio of soulful black men sing a capella outside the front door to a clapping audience on the sidewalk. The refrain from 'My Girl' wafts through the air and the iconic image of a Siren graces the beverage of every satisfied customer.

The truth of the matter is that the rest of the world does not understand our undying love and passion for a steaming cup of coffee brewed by our favorite baristas nor the necessity we have for a Starbucks on every other corner. I will let you in on a secret. I think people go to Starbucks for the ideal it represents and the lifestyle it promotes. It is an advocate for conversation and for good company. It extends an invitation to walk inside its doors and put life on hold for a moment while taking a sip of your favorite beverage; you know, the one that will help fight alongside you the headache that is the rest of your day.

I'm not assuming that Starbucks coffee has magical properties, or that coffee is the maker of all things good, or that life without coffee is an empty existance. Just simply stating that when people from 'out of the area' (you know, those people that carry umbrellas... we call them tourists) think of us as being addicted to the coffee, or the caffeine, or the mochas that they deem as overpriced, that they are misunderstanding the entire concept of why we do what we do.

It's about people. It's about community. It's about relationships. It's about feeling a part of the world that is so much bigger than just yourself and who you are with (if anyone). It's about an idea: that people can gather together for the purpose of good conversation, or reading a good book, or just enjoying a tall nonfat black and white mocha with no whip, and know that thousands of miles away, at a Starbucks somewhere in Philly, Madrid, London, and Zurich, someone else is doing the same thing. Coffee is just a wonderful added bonus. Yes, the topic of conversation varies. Yes, the prices vary from dollars, to pounds, to franks, to euros and back to dollars again. But somewhere in the world, as you read these words, someone is seeking familiarity and comfort in a cup of coffee. It would be silly to say that all my memories are measured tall, grande or venti... but a good portion of them are.

So if you're ever in need of the chaotic ambiance and familiarity of a place that is both contemporary and classic, charming and alive with activity, or you just want your grande iced caramel machiatto without diversion, the original Starbucks represents a shining beacon of hope for all who are seeking.

the road less travelled

2007-12-09T02:32:00.000-08:00

August 8, 2006

Isn't it amazing how drastically things can change in the course of a week?

A little over a week ago I was given the opportunity to hang out with some of the coolest junior high and high school kids ever. I spent my days playing games, sitting at the lake, in the sun, on a boat, surrounded by sunshine and good conversation. I got a chance to get to lead worship and be a counselor.

That was last week. When I'm scanning ahead seven days, I see something completely different. While it looks beautiful in its own way, part of that beauty is found in the mystery of the unknown. I have no idea what it will be like. I don't know where I will work, who my friends will be in a month (although my amazing sister is a given), what our apartment will look like, or where I'll be at spiritually.

It's like this larger-than-life question mark over the next year of my life.

I worked my last shift at Ruby's tonight.. my home away from home for the last three years. I did my walk through of the empty and dark building as usual, and it just felt okay inside. It's unreal that I'm leaving on Thursday, but so much of me just feels at peace. About everything. About leaving my family, my good job, and all of my friends. Like a part of me knows I need to go. To get out. To kick off my shoes and experience something new, whether I end up liking it at the end of the year or not.

It will be new. And different. And scary. And beautiful.

There's no doubt that it's hard to leave a few things behind for awhile, but there's something about an empty and untraveled road that will always appeal to me. So I will step forward in anticipation. And hope that the road is there to meet my feet even when I can't see the ending.

Selah.

another sleepless night

2007-12-09T02:30:00.000-08:00

June 19, 2006

Sleepless nights always keep me awake.

I know that sounds sort of redundant, but when I am already awake at an indecent hour of the night (or morning in some cases), I am already thinking about so many things and people and situations, and just life... so much that my head is spinning. It just makes it impossible to get any good rest at all.

Someone told me today, "Dayna if your life was to be lived in a straight line.. you know, the 'four year' school plan, and knowing exactly where you want to be a year from now... just like everybody else seems to be doing... I don't think you'd be happy. Now, we know that the shortest distance from one place to another is a straight line. But in your case, the journey getting there matters as much to you, if not more, than where you end up in the end."

I would have to agree.

I know that I'm looked down upon a lot by people I know (not all, mind you but a good portion) as just having no goals, and not knowing where I want to end up because I'm apathetic towards living life. People think this because I go to community college. Because I haven't picked a specific major. Because I don't go to a four year like most of the 'upstanding citizens' of my generation (not downing on people that go to those at all, because some of the finest people I know are taking that track, and are loving it, and they totally made the right decision).

But she's right. I want to enjoy the journey.

The days. The moments. The small things. The walk in the sunshine from Ruby's to Starbucks every morning. Getting to go work out with my beautiful sister. Having a new chance every day to start over. I'm not saying it's impossible to enjoy these things by following that straight path. I just mean that for me, I want getting there and finding out where I'm going to be half the fun. I have goals: to be the best I can wherever I'm at. To continue writing. To keep singing. But to be honest, knowing what job I want to end up with in four years is the least of my worries.

Just because I spend my days at Ruby's doesn't mean I'm going to be waiting tables forever. Just because I don't follow a four year plan doesn't mean I'm not going places. I am going places.

on the definition of home and belonging

2007-12-09T02:29:00.000-08:00

May 15, 2006

Coming home can be difficult and beautiful.

Especially when 'home' itself is undefined; it is relative and changes person to person. What is a home anyway, and what constitutes the name of 'home' in a certain place? Is it the people that remain there, or the memories latched onto small things, like buildings, facades, or porch swings? Does 'home' mean a place where a certain feeling is felt?

Because when I am in Seattle, among the buses whirring by, and the sights and smells and sounds, with the Olympic mountains decorating the horizon, I feel like I am home. But so much of me wanted to remain in Moscow this last weekend... where I touched up on memories I felt were left unfinished and was given the opportunity to meet new people as well. The rolling hills and the hearts of the people captivate me, and I am at a loss.

'Belong' is probably a word that is relative too.

Because I couldn't pick a place where I belong above the other. And wherever I am, it seems like I am wishing to be living someplace else.

A mystery.

this makes no sense

2007-12-09T02:27:00.000-08:00

April 28, 2006

The silence is deafening as I sit alone, watching credits of yet another late night movie rolling by. I flip on a few lights and migrate to change into a sweatshirt, when my reflection catches my eye. I spend a few moments pouring over my exhausted blue eyes, my faded brown hair... "You look sad," I whisper to the stranger I see. "Keep your chin up. There's tomorrow." A melody sings from my stereo as I steal a quick glance around my room. A picture from tour catches my eye, and I rest for a moment in the smiles and the laughter I remember so clearly.

Flashes of time are spinning before me, and I see Brenton singing to Miranda, and Becca wiping away my tears one lonely night, and Seth whipping out his guitar, and Faith kneeling beside me to hold me. I remember lives changed, and every night a new stage. I remember what it felt like to change the world and to feel the world changing. It all seems so distant now, so many months later. I wonder how things have fared for them. Were they really 'committed' like we all claimed? Or did they slip at the first opportunity to fail miserably. Like me.

Late nights have a tendancy to get me down. And I don't really have nights that aren't late.

Definitely not by my own choosing. The hours dwindle away and I try to avoid watching the clock, but when it reaches midnight and I have no physical desire to sleep yet, there just isn't any place I can go.
It's empty here, at this hour. And it's dark. But it's a waste of money to just turn on lots of lights for my own self satisfaction (there's always the Oreck I suppose). It's too early to go out to Denny's. It's too late to make phone calls that wouldn't freak people out. I spend countless hours watching movies by myself just passing time hoping that my eyes will get tired. All the while I assure myself that, no, I am not without many friends that care about me. No. I have many friends. The problem doesn't lie there.

Is it in my dreams? I feel like it is sometimes. Does the issue lie in the places I long to visit and to see. Is it wrong or weird to want to just skip out on all the tourist attractions and GPA's and transcripts, and just go feed someone who's hungry? Or play the guitar with a homeless person? Or hug the little girl whose school and food I have the honor of paying for? It's a small price to pay for a life. A small thing to sacrifice so that a little girl can know she is loved.

I sit here useless. I dream of change, and of living in Buenos Aires and studying to become a teacher so I can teach people how to read and write in countries less fortunate than ours... yet here I stand. On the western coast of one of the biggest empires this world has ever known, more blessed than 97 percent of the rest of humankind. And my hands sit idle. I dream of visiting the families I met in Spain, and getting to know their culture and their lives and their hopes and dreams... the things they wake up every day for... I want to know all of that.

Maybe late nights just make me frusterated. But it's me! It's Dayna! My life is supposed to change lives. I'm supposed to actually do something with my guitar instead of just sit on it. I'm supposed to make a difference instead of just talking about making a difference. These eyes were meant to see the world... to walk the sands of Egypt and to see the mountains of Peru. To teach little kids that they're loved, and that they have potential, and that they can read and write.

I want to make a difference. And on nights like these it eats away at me like some disease. DO something... anything!... GO somewhere... anywhere!

There is so much of me that is kicking and screaming to just live. To really live. Not just exist somewhere, on one planet out of trillions in a universe of endless proportions. No. Not for me.

I will not go down without a fight. Apathy won't get me.

an ode to coffee and my girls

2007-12-09T02:26:00.000-08:00

April 25, 2006

I have a deep appreciation for people who love coffee as much as I do.

I have an even deeper appreciation for the girls that introduced me to my loving of coffee. It's true. Before moving here, I had coffee perhaps once a week. Maybe twice if I was feeling in the mood. It was reserved for days that I would, for one reason or another, deem worthy of a cup of steaming hot goodness. After moving to the 'other side' of the mountains, however, and becoming assimilated into their culture, I have come to find something very important. The most seasoned of my memories with 'my girls' over here; the memories with the most passion and spirit and adventure; the ones that carried the best conversations and the heaviest debates; the ones that helped us along the journey to making decisions that will shape the rest of our lives... they all happened over coffee.

I'm not assuming that coffee has magical properties, or that coffee is the maker of all things good, or that life without coffee is an empty existance. Just simply stating that when people from 'out of the area' (you know, those people that carry umbrellas... we call them tourists) think of us as being addicted to the coffee, or the caffeine, or the mochas that they deem as overpriced, that they are misunderstanding the entire concept of why we do what we do.

It's about people. It's about community. It's about relationships. It's about feeling a part of the world that is so much bigger than just yourself and who you are with (if anyone). It's about an idea: that people can gather together for the purpose of good conversation, or reading a good book, or just enjoying a nonfat black and white mocha with no whip, and know that thousands of miles away, at a Starbucks somewhere in Philly, Madrid, London, and Zurich (yes I've been to all of them, so I know they exist), someone else is doing the same thing. Coffee is just a wonderful added bonus. Yes, the topic of conversation varies. Yes, the prices vary from dollars, to pounds, to franks, to euros and back to dollars again. But somewhere in the world, as you read these words, someone is seeking familiarity and comfort in a cup of coffee. It would be silly to say that all my memories are measured tall, grande, or venti... but a good portion of them are.

And that leads me back to the beginning. My girls.

There is something beautiful about being able to call up Bri and meet her once again at the Starbuck on Rose Hill, even if all we will do is laugh about good memories and sigh about when Brittany is coming home and how much we wish Shani was there too. Even if no life changing decisions are made, and no new favorite memories are created, it is the beauty and grace of something so simple as knowing you have gone through think and thin with someone, and still meet them for coffee.

We're getting older, and making decisions, and getting our apartments for the first time, and getting ready for the great reunion of all of us girls again for the few precious months this summer. We will laugh, and we will lay in the sun together, and we will drink coffee together in Kirkland again. I have no doubt that before it's started, it will be over again, and we will be sorry to see another summer come and go so quickly. But I also have no doubt that come the holidays, and come the following summers, we will still carry on.

We are intrepid. We are timeless. Our friendship runs deeper than geographical separation and time between our visits. That's the beauty of true friendship. We represent everything... art, music, athletics, writing, conservatives, liberals, blondes, brunettes, introverts, extroverts, and beauty of every kind and color and fashion. We think alike. And we think differently. It has been proved that no matter how long it's been, we can always pick up where we left off. That is what's beautiful about who we all are, individually and as a whole. At the end of the day, whether I am singing to people someplace random in Europe, or sitting back in my living room in Duvall, I know that there five girls out there that know what they believe, why they believe in it, and are intensely passionate about living life, and living it well.

I will always love them. And I will always love the thing that brought us together the most often... coffee.

"Let the world change you, and you can change the world." -Ernesto "Che" Guevara

vacant dreams

2007-12-09T02:24:00.000-08:00

April 9, 2006

An empty page.

It glares up at me like I'm guilty of wasting the trees that were cut down to somehow formulate itself. There's a pencil in my hand, and something in me is crying out to write something, but no words will come. Sighing in annoyance at my lack of originality, I pick up the notebook and rest it on the higher octaves of my piano keys to use later when words will come. I adjust the mic stand so that it rests a few inches short of my chin, and I routinely go through a check of the keyboard.... power on... reverb off... classic and modern piano combined... the mains are on... it is finished.

I take a sip of the chai that rests a few feet away on a desk, and then turn to face the monster that is my own lack of genious. It couldn't have been this hard for all those bands that have come before me to just come up with some stupid lyrics to sing. Why does it suck so much for me? I wonder as I chuckle a little, thinking of all the people who admire my few songs.

Good Lord, I haven't done this forever. The light is subtly reflecting off of my guitar [Lailani] resting in the corner; I'll tackle that later. For now the mass of black and white keys is what concerns me. An empty audience of chairs and moniters and music equipment watches me as I tentatively graze the surface of the keyboard with my fingertips before letting a melody fill the empty corners of the garage.

It's my typical progression (C, Am, G, F, and C again) that I always use when just starting out with a new song. To find my pitch. To figure out whether I want to let my voice ring high or reverb low. That might be the hardest part of this whole thing. Thinking of how I must look makes me feel a little dumb. Just standing there in my all american rejects shirt and torn up and faded jeans, my hair pulled up into something messy, just waiting. For what, I'm never exactly sure. But I probably look odd regardless. Unsure.

What will it be like someday, if everything is how I want it to be? If I finish college and get to just sing for awhile? If I get to do concerts again and sell CD's again, and get to just write. When the lights fade and the curtain falls will I still feel the same? When I sign a few autographs here and there like I got to do last summer, will it bring back the same adrenaline and spirit that it brought me before?

My dreams seem so vacant sometimes; like they aren't mine anymore, they're just things that have to be done. Like trying to write a song today. Who am I writing it for anyway? How many worthless pages will I have to go through until I find another song that actually means something to me? I have a few that I love to play; that make me feel something when I sing them; that make me relive the way I felt when the words were first poured out. But the rest are just... missing something. And I wish I knew what it was.

Empty pages are the bane of my existance.