Two days ago was June 1st. Not only does this date represent things like the end of school nearing, Memorial Day weekend recently occurring, and summer on its sweet way, for me it represents the fact that I've been away from home, from the States, from free refills and delicious Tex-Mex, etc, for over 3 months.
As you know, Alex has already returned home. He's now happily off at camp as a counselor for the summer, living it up on the lake and keeping the children in line.
You may be wondering, "What am I still doing here?" I've been asking myself the same question, not out of despair, but in the ongoing search for purpose and direction.
From the beginning of this trip, I had a transferrable flight. I forsaw the possibility of not returning with Alex, in fact, I planned for it. Because while Alex had certain things for which he wanted to make sure he returned, I practically said goodbye to the life I'd been living when I stepped on the plane, determined to be fully in the journey, and to potentially uncover what it was in life I wanted to pursue, where I wanted to be, perhaps even discover a vocation to which I felt called and within which I felt inclined to serve.
As we traveled around Europe, we met so many people involved in really incredible jobs, lives, journeys of their own, ministries, and dreams, a lot of which have opened up doors to some neat opportunities. As it were, my cup currently overflows with possibilities of communities to spend time, trips I can volunteer for, new friends to go visit, etc. For example, there's an organization in Belgium that works in student ministry for middle school and high school students of military parents stationed overseas. Towards the end of June I'll join them on two trips with their students to visit more parts of Italy, to hang out, be in the presence of incredible company, have tons of laughs, and be a part of student ministry once again for a couple weeks.
But in addition to this opportunity, from the beginning of planning this trip there were a couple communities in the Europe area I thought I might want to visit once Alex headed home and I was exploring on my own. You read about one in the last post (Taize), and that's where I went when Alex left. There's another community, similar to Taize, called Iona, and it's located in Scotland. From what I've heard, it's beautiful, and about a month ago I applied to serve as a volunteer at Iona, a term that would include a minimum of 6 weeks. The type of position I'd fill would be something like kitchen staff or housecleaning, a task necessary to keep the community functioning and flowing, and while it seems menial, I really love the idea of doing that for 6 weeks. As I mentioned in my last email, there's a type of meditation that can develop from the monotony, and Iona's beautiful vision is that work and worship are one and the same; there's no need for them to be two separate activities or perspectives. It's this philosophy that captures my attention and interest in Iona. In essence, if God is available in all moments and situations, I want to experience that presence everywhere, at all times. After all, it seems to be that's what Jesus was getting at, "always one with the Father" and what-not. So I really latched on to the idea of practicing remaining mindful of the Lord and pursuing Him in all moments, great and small, whether those moments found my time spent washing dishes, walking, reading, sleeping, partaking in food, conversing with a new friend, writing an email to an old friend, praying, enjoying a glass of wine with a dear friend, or whatever the case may be. Plus, Iona's in a beautiful area, and from all the referrals I've heard, the people are incredible, kind, open, inspiring and authentic. What's not alluring about such a place?
So I applied. And a few days ago, I heard back, after an anxious month of waiting. Iona has offered me a position on the housekeeping staff for 6 weeks later this summer. They provide room and board, a weekly allowance, and I've already described how much I like the atmosphere, the people, the vision. I will arrive on August 18th, and leave Iona September 29th.
For a long time on this journey in search of path and purpose, I thought Taize would be a place I'd arrive and spend an extended period of time. They allow people from the age of 18 to 29 to spend up to a year or two there, simply serving as part of the community and enjoying the serenity and simplicity of lifestyle Taize has to offer. This sounded like a lovely retreat, a place to really get in touch with the internal, to pray, reflect, breathe, observe, listen, and grow. So when I arrived the day after Alex left, I had every intention of staying at Taize until it was time to head to Belgium for those trips, about a month over all.
But, have you ever had an experience where you get all the way to the Emerald City, and realize you had the ruby slippers on the whole time?
In March of 2009 I left the church I was working at with this verse on my heart: "But he said to them, 'I must preach the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns as well; for I was sent for this purpose." There was a vision of travel and movement in life, but I wasn't quite sure which direction. I used to do a lot of searching for purpose, vision, calling, path in life, etc. In my experience and conversations, I've realized that a great many people, especially around my age, want to know what the heck they should be doing with their life. Regardless of beliefs, they want something to fill their day, they want something they enjoy, that they're good at, and that they can survive from, be passionate about, perhaps even make a small difference in this world because of it.
Moving to Houston was part of my journey. Living in the DFW metroplex was part of the journey. Going to seminary for a brief stint instead of the full 4 years was part of the journey, as was spending a few years feeling like I was stumbling around in the dark. The journey certainly didn't begin the minute Alex and I stepped on the plane, nor does it end when I finally make it home.
Getting to Taize was part of the journey, as was deciding to leave after only a week of spending time there, instead of taking the option and original plan to stay longer. Because I realized something at Taize: In all this time (over two years) of journeying, walking, exploring, questioning, seeking, and often feeling like I was in a world of darkness, I'd been learning all along the way I feel called to live my life, that I had the answers for which I'd been searching. I had arrived at my spiritual/journey equivalent of the Emerald City (internally), and realized I was already wearing the ruby slippers.
Simply put: to Love. To love people, to walk with the Lord in all my moments and steps, to strive to practice His presence constantly, to listen when I have the opportunity and to continue learning in all circumstances. To Love in every opportunity I have, to serve, to walk this earth living the best way I know how, and Loving those I share this planet with every opportunity I encounter.
I don't think this is just my calling. I think our vocation is to Love, and I refuse to be silent about it. I've been having great conversations with people, and some of the most fascinating ones have suddenly taken a dive into the depths of the heart, and discussed humanity and the question of Love. And I think I have the great pleasure to simply walk this earth, and Love the people I encounter. It comes out in the neatest ways, as cultures interact without judgement, as people share in some tea, enjoy a laugh over something silly, wash 4000 dishes and try to figure out songs everyone knows to sing to, in order to make a mundane job more fulfilling and fun. I have the great opportunity to love the Frenchman who sells me my train ticket, despite his rough day reflected in his coarse demeanor. I have the great opportunity to love my brother who, like me, although not as bad as I can be, wasn't always cheerful or awake or excited about what the day held. I have the great opportunity to love the Lord by trying to really trust that He means what He says when He promises He is faithful and won't forsake me. The opportunities to Love are endless, and the need for Love in this world is boundless.
A dear friend recently asked me what my definition of Love is. Honestly, this is a tough question, because to Love finds such versatile application, depending on the context, the person, the situation, and I think I'll always be figuring out how it looks. But I think it is, in essence, to serve, fearlessly. To love, in a way that sets someone free into a life of fulfillment. To inspire. To help. To be with. To appreciate. To value. To challenge. To teach. To listen. To give someone value, in your eyes and in theirs. To enable them. To pursue them. To forgive them. To be kind, kinder than necessary. To value that they are alive, and recognize it is good, just as you are alive, and it is good. I honestly have no idea how to sum in up in a vaccuum. But I know it is something I must do, because it not only heals others, it heals me. It is good for all souls involved when Love is applied and chosen, instead of fear, hatred, selfishness, etc.
These are the things I've been learning, a myriad of ways in which Love applies, and I hope that the rest of my life is spent discovering more ways to Love in this life. And I think now is not the time to continue reflecting on such lessons, but to begin putting them into practice, and reflect as I go. There is a world out there filled with people, and every moment of our lives we have the opportunity to love our neighbor as ourselves, to recognize that they are alive, that it is good, and that we are alive, and it is good. Because I think I have been learning how to live, and so live I must, not isolated and retreating from society, but in the midst of society, daily, in the regularity. It would be naive to think such lessons only apply out in the wilderness, during the travels, on the vacation.
So I left Taize. I have learned that there is a difference between what is necessary and what would be procrastination. If there wasn't a vision, a purpose, etc, then yes, I'm sure it would be phenomenal to continue to kick it around Europe exploring and traveling for 8 out of 12 months this calender year. But where there is purpose and vision, let us not hesitate to set it into action. Because I have learned what I set out to learn, and I realize that as each day passes I will continue to learn, grow, travel, and explore, wherever I am. But as Paul realized after his experience on the road to Demascus, the time is now to begin to practice what you've been taught.
So I won't be going to Iona. Perhaps another time. But for now, it's not necessary, and I've realized it would be procrastination.
I've come what I came to do. I've backpacked around Europe, had phenomenal adventures, met a serious amount of friends I'm looking forward to staying in touch with for years to come, started to learn what it looks like for me to be in relationship with my God, started to learn what it looks like to listen and to Love, and I have a solid vision on what life looks like for me in the next chapter.
But now I realize that chapter is fast approaching.
In other words, I'm coming home.
Sometime this summer. ;)
"One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak." -G.K. Chesterton
"The mountaintops are only noble because from them we are privileged to behold the plains. So the only value in any man being superior is that he may have a superior admiration for the level and the common..." -G.K. Chesterton
"I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of this glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance that I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended." -Nelson Mandel, "The Long Walk to Freedom"
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
We may be right, but it's irrelevant.
Let's talk about Taize, because such a place is worth discussing.
I wake up in the morning, in either a tent or a barrack with multiple beds (much like a hostel), and first thing, I head off to morning prayer. Prayer at Taize consists of singing a great many hymns, with the brothers that live at the community, and the rest of the current Taize congregation. We sit on the floor, and lift our voices in a variety of languages, depending on the hymn. It's one of the most serene experiences I've ever encountered, and it's really beautiful to listen to.
After prayer, we head off to breakfast. At Taize, everyone gets a job when they walk through those welcoming doors. Everyone participates in the rhythm and chores of the community, participating in creating the lifestyle in which the community lives from week to week. That being said, the job I signed up for was washing dishes for breakfast and lunch. As menial as this job sounds, washing the dishes became one of my favourite parts of the day, and definitely a task I was always looking forward to. I'll explain later. Because I was part of the dish-washing crew, I was able to be one of the first to get breakfast and lunch, which is a killer perk, let's be honest. So I leave worship, and head straight to the outdoor dining area, where I meet up with the rest of the dishwashing crew and don the oh-so-stylish plastic apron. We make sure there are enough hands to handle the load of washing that the meal will bring, and then we go through the line to secure our meal.
Taize has a vision of simplicity, among other things. While the bulk of Taize's vision I will touch on in more detail later, the aspect of simplicity hits you immediately when you partake in a meal. Coming to Taize, you can't expect to find gourmet. But Taize is a bit like camp, so even though the food isn't something normal standards would deem high quality, you're so appreciative to be eating three square meals a day that it truly does feel like you're being spoiled when they feed you. Breakfast was my favourite, especially because at the beginning of the week, breakfast and I had a love/hate relationship. Breakfast at Taize include a small baguette (roll of bread), a single serving thing of butter, and a couple sticks of chocolate, with either tea or hot chocolate to drink. What people proceed to do with this assortment of ingredients is the following: tear open bread, apply butter to the inside. Then, as if you're making a sandwich, apply chocolate between the pieces of bread, upon the butter, close pieces of bread, and eat your freshly made chocolate-butter sandwich.
I don't know about you, but this is wierd to me. Thoroughly wierd. I realize I'm in Europe and they're all about Nutella here, but Day 1, it feels too early in the day to be having chocolate. However, by Day 3 I'm hooked to the idea of having chocolate each morning, although I never converted to the "butter and chocolate sandwich" idea. But the chocolate Taize serves is beyond delicious, and I enjoyed my bread and butter with chocolate for a breakfast dessert every single morning. (That being said, the chocolate and tea ALONE is worth coming all the way to Taize. Truly, it's the best I've ever had).
Now that we're done with the meal, we get ready to start cleaning the entire community's dishes. For breakfast, this isn't so bad. Here at Taize they use bowls for the cups, and the bowl/cup for the tea or hot chocolate is the only dish utilized for breakfast. However, when lunchtime rolls around, all dishes are on deck, including trays, plates, a bowl/cup for the beverage, and a spoon as the sole utensil, utilized creatively as a spoon, a fork, and a knife. (You learn quickly when you must make use of what you have. And you're only frustrated by the solitary utensil until you consider how long it would take to clean dishes for 4000 if forks and knives were added).We get the giant vats of hot and cold water ready to receive the dirty dishes, and anywhere from 10-20 sets of hands remove jewelry and watches, and proceed to scrub down the incoming dishes. This is a monotonous task, and often perceived as menial. But when you're making new friends as you wash, and eventually start singing tunes to make the job more fun, it's not long before meeting these great people twice a day and partaking in an hour of sillyness with fellow soldiers in combat against the war of dishes becomes the favourite part of the day, and certainly a time anticipated with much joy. Truly, with the exception of one or two, I met my dearest friends from Taize while washing the dishes. I had challenging and beautiful conversations, I learned new words, and together we created memories, song lyrics, and friendships that I anticipate will last a lifetime. Speaking of which, Taize is a place that seeks to help people find the presence of God in their lives. Personally, I believe that God is available in all places, circumstances, trials, and days. Verena, one of my new friends from Bavaria, commented that in the monotony of washing dishes, a sort of meditation emerges. How beautiful a perspective, to find meditation in the midst of monotony. See what amazing and wise people I was getting to spend time with daily? I think these are the people whose company I value the most: the type of people that inspire me. Not people I always agree with, but people who inspire me and challenge me.
Between breakfast and lunch, the younger people had a bible reflection, while those of us that are older, i.e. 25 and up, had free time. I spent a great deal of this time doing one of two things: either I was in conversation and fellowship with one or more of the people I just washed the dishes with, OR I wandered down to a nearby village to spend some quiet time in prayer in their chapel. In the French countryside, Taize finds a very tranquil environment. It's impossible to hear the noise of trains and rare to hear the sounds of cars driving by, but it's common to hear the wind rustling through the grass and trees, and to hear the noises birds make as they celebrate their existence. I loved this type of silence, especially in these simple and beautiful chapels. It can be terrifying, because you can actually hear yourself think, and if you aren't ready for those thoughts, often noise is the preference. But these became some of my favourite times as well, learning not only to silence my verbal communication, but try to silence my head and my heart as well. I wonder, what does it really mean to listen? With each circumstance I admit I'm still figuring this out.
At 12:20 midday prayer happens, and again, the majority of this time is spent in song. The brothers will read some scripture, and utter some prayers, although in multiple languages, but all in all, it's a beautiful and peaceful experience, one I came to really enjoy. Then we lunch, and this repeats the breakfast process, except, as I mentioned, all dishes available are on deck, so it takes at least twice as long. But to me this only meant more laughter, songs, and times of fellowship, plus we still get to eat first. :)
After lunch, there's a longer stretch of free time, available to be filled with the "25 and up" bible reflection, in addition to some worship each evening. For a couple days I did the bible reflection, but as the week progressed I chose to spend the time in other ways, which usually consisted in conversation, fellowship, or times of prayer at my beloved chapels.
Then in the evening we had dinner, sans cleaning up dishes for Stephanie, then evening prayer, following much the same format. The prayer times usually lasted from 45 minutes to an hour, and the evening prayer could potentially go longer, but only if some people wanted to stay.
After evening prayer, there was a spot that served drinks that had a great location for people to congregate, and sometimes I'd go and join in the celebration of existence. But often prayer ended at 21:30 or 22:00 (9:30 pm or 10:00 pm), and frankly, I was tired, since we wake up at 7:45 or so to make it to morning prayer.
Besides the loose schedule, the times of peaceful prayer, and the glorious beauty of the French countryside, the appeal for me with Taize is the vision behind the community. Not only is it beautiful physically, but the beauty emanates from within. It is a community intended to welcome people from all ethnicities, backgrounds, beliefs, perspectives, histories, genders, and ages, for a week at a time, into a place where reconciliation is the aim. It it a place that aims for a Love between all people as the Lord defined it, in the unconditional sense. (The Greek word is "agape".) And so, when you arrive and live at Taize for your week or perhaps longer, you find yourself amidst a constant interaction with other cultures, languages, affiliations, and experiences. It's phenomenal. I rarely met another American while I was there, instead the people I spent most of my time with were from Hamburg, Bavaria, Slovakia, Latvia, Austria, London, France, Ireland, etc, some of which I truly hope to visit later on this summer, if possible. And as you wash dishes, engage in service of others, and share in laughter and song, you find authentic friendships developing, with no regard for whether this person's views of the world align with yours ideologically or on any other front. You find the vision of Taize coming alive in the smallest of moments, and as you put a face and friendship on the "other" you once feared or misunderstood, all you know is this: I am alive, and it is good, and you are alive, and it is good.
There once was a young woman.
Like any honest human, all this woman wanted out of life was to be loved. Not just adored, not simply cherished, but loved, seen, known, appreciated, enjoyed, and valued.
But when a person goes out into this world and begins to feel like love is out of reach, well, they'll begin to settle. And often the way one settles when in search for love is in the arms of any person that will show them even the slightest glimpse of affection.
Which is what this young woman began to do. Eventually she finds herself engaged in adultery.
But for a while this pursuit of love really worked for her, and she thought she'd really found a place where she was cherished.
Until one day she was caught. Not just caught, she was exposed, dragged into the light, and publicly humiliated.
Somehow, the public officials, government officers, and religious leaders discover her infidelity. Upon making their discovery of this woman, caught in the midst of her intimate moment, they drag her out of her privacy and into the public streets, through the dirt and the grime.
Welcome to the climax of her shame.
They pull this woman through the city, through the streets, up a hill, and into a crowd of people, all the while she is completely helpless to fight back, stop the embarrassment, or cover herself up at all.
Who's ever had the dream about being completely naked at school?
This day is worse.
But back to the woman.
She's being dragged, half-dressed, in her shame, through the dust. The leaders of the society that regularly play golf with her parents, the religious leaders that used to be her Sunday School teachers, the elders that once dealt so kindly with her as a child, that she's always looked up to and respected - they are now dragging her by the hair through town.
Eventually they slow down and let her fall. She drops to the ground, and for a moment she can't tell where she is or who else is around. All she can hear are the men who towed her halfway across town yelling, and as her eyes adjust to the light and she regains her vision, she notices their shouts are all directed at one man.
Suddenly they're lifting her up onto her feet, and the attempt she had made at covering herself with her hands becomes futile. As she squints in the morning sunlight, she's facing hundreds of men, and some women and children. The group of men that have dragged her and been yelling are there holding her up and surrounding her, and behind the man they continue to yell at is a crowd of people sitting down attentively.
This is really the last type of audience she wanted to have in her moment of ecstasy, in her quest for love and acceptance, which has now been transformed into a deep sense of disgrace.
As she looks out on her neighbors, her peers, her friends, her relatives, among others, she suddenly feels the pain that comes from being surrounded by people but completely and utterly alone.
Suddenly the yelling ceases, and her escorts are now speaking more understandably. They refer to the man they've been yelling at as "teacher," and she realizes it's a class that they've interrupted with her indiscretion.
They explain where they found her, how they found her, and she feels the knot develop in her stomach, because she knows what's coming...
...Then they explain that because of her crime (adultery), the punishment is death.
By stones.
They propose, to this teacher whose class they have just interrupted, that they put this woman up against a wall.
They propose that everyone present take a rock/stone in their hand.
And they propose that everyone present precede to throw these stones at the woman up against the wall, until she dies.
Brutal.
Now let me pause here for a second. Because you should know that so far in this story, while these guys may seem like jerks, they are completely in the right.
Let me repeat that: they are absolutely right. They're justified. Validated. Not in the wrong. They win.
What they have said is not against the law, it is not false, nor is it even indecent in the sociological context.
To be fair, these guys are worried about what's best for their society, and maybe a little bit about themselves. They feel threatened, and feel allowing any indecency to occur in their midst would enable crumbling in their system, which has worked well for them for years. They're tough on the rules, because otherwise the entire structure and support everyone counts on would collapse. Who can blame someone that wants to protect what they think is best for their children and the society in which they live?
The one that's in the wrong is the woman. She cheated. Committed adultery. She is messing with the family genes and is therefore deserving of punishment. This punishment. "Stones thrown at you until you're dead" punishment.
The man they're saying all this to knows this, the rules and what's right in this situation. The poor woman can only look on, horrified, as she knows exactly what's coming for her.
The man doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he bends down and starts to write on the ground. The woman looks on anxiously, wondering if he's attempting to start class again. Maybe he didn't hear them, although she's not sure how that's possible.
Her accusers repeat her crimes, demanding the man respond.
The woman wonders if there's more to this story than her recent indiscretion - these men seem to be keen on getting an answer from this man, and she wonders why they haven't just started throwing rocks at her. What's one less arm throwing a stone going to really do to the process of a slow and painful death for her?
After they continue to question him, the man stops writing in the dust, and stands up. He turns to the men who dragged her here, who are still holding her up, who are accusing her and questioning him, and simply says that whomever has never done anything wrong should be the one to throw the first stone at this woman.
Then he drops down to ground level and takes up his writing in the sand once again.
As the men accusing and the religious leaders yelling and the audience crowding around with their stones in hand hear this, they pause. A wave of hesitation sweeps over the anxious crowd. The woman looks around, and you can almost sense everyone at once stand up slowly, as their thoughts drift back into the depths of memory. They remember their own pasts, recall their own mistakes, and shudder, as they are forced to look back at ways they too have been imperfect.
One by one, beginning with the oldest, those with the longest histories, the people leave. The woman watches on, dumbfounded, as the crowd begins to dwindle.
Soon she is standing alone with the man who writes in the ground, the teacher, whose opinion every was so keen on hearing.
"[The man] straightened up and asked her, 'Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?'"
"No one," she said.
"Neither do I condemn you," Jesus said. "Go now, and leave your life of sin." (John 8:1-11)
Why does he let her go? It's not that he's unaware of the law. To be clear, he's completely aware of the letter of the law. But still, he lets her indiscretion slide. Why?
Because of what He understands. He knows her search for love was fruitless, that it was settled for in all the wrong places. He knows that when a person commits adultery, or another sin of any sort, the damage they're really doing is to their heart, and there's a longing inside that isn't being filled in the way it was meant to be filled.
So instead of condemnation, which locks a person to their mistakes and failed attempts at wholeness, he offers grace, and sets her free.
She's pursuing love, so what would condemnation do? Trap her.
What does grace do? Sets her free. To find what she really needs.
He leaves her with the command to leave the life she's been living, knowing that her heart longs to be filled, and the path she's been pursuing will not reach her desired destination. He sets her free to experience the full life she was meant to experience.
And regardless of the fact that the religious leaders and teachers and elders and men of authority were right, it was irrelevant, because there was something more important than being right.
In one of the enjoyable times of fellowship and conversation with one of the dishwashing staff at Taize, my dear friend Sona made this brilliant comment, "People have stones in their hearts, but we should give our stones to God." I don't think she realized at first how profound she'd just been. We'd been discussing Taize and the brilliance of its vision of reconciliation, and the beauty that emerges when people of all different varieties can come together to serve, to live, and to love one another. And I think to love, in the agape, Jesus-sense of the word does just that: it gives up the stones it carries, which imply both that we have something to throw, and a hardness of heart.
Taize's view of reconciliation and love is brilliant because it lets go. We drop our stones, and we pursue people instead. We pursue life for people and for ourselves, and a beautiful, fulfilled way to live it. We pursue wholeness, healing, unity, fellowship, and community.
Needing to be right can lead us to sacrifice that which is most important: the fact that there is a situation, a human, a circumstance right in front of us that needs to be loved, inspired, set free from the bondage from whence it came. We may be right at times, but it's irrelevant unless we're loving, i.e. seeking the best for someone. After all, Jesus gave us two commandments that unite them all: Love, and Love. (Matthew 22:36-40)
So, let us LOVE.
You or I may be right, but without loving someone in the process, it's irrelevant.
"If I have all abilities, all knowledge, all sacrifice, but have not love, I have nothing, and I am nothing." -1 Corinthians 13
Let go of the stones. Drop them. And let Jesus teach us about grace.
At the end of the story, notice that everyone leaves. Personally, I wish they'd stuck around, the ones with stones, the onlookers, etc. Maybe they could have learned something.
But then again, as Mother Theresa once said, "it was always between us and Him anyway."
“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” –Mark Jenkins
"Under the surface, we're all the same. Searching for purpose, running from shame..." -Wideawake
"The most effective medicine here on earth is love unconditional." -Sri Chinmoy
"And they will know you [those who know Me] by the way you Love." - Jesus to the disciples
I wake up in the morning, in either a tent or a barrack with multiple beds (much like a hostel), and first thing, I head off to morning prayer. Prayer at Taize consists of singing a great many hymns, with the brothers that live at the community, and the rest of the current Taize congregation. We sit on the floor, and lift our voices in a variety of languages, depending on the hymn. It's one of the most serene experiences I've ever encountered, and it's really beautiful to listen to.
After prayer, we head off to breakfast. At Taize, everyone gets a job when they walk through those welcoming doors. Everyone participates in the rhythm and chores of the community, participating in creating the lifestyle in which the community lives from week to week. That being said, the job I signed up for was washing dishes for breakfast and lunch. As menial as this job sounds, washing the dishes became one of my favourite parts of the day, and definitely a task I was always looking forward to. I'll explain later. Because I was part of the dish-washing crew, I was able to be one of the first to get breakfast and lunch, which is a killer perk, let's be honest. So I leave worship, and head straight to the outdoor dining area, where I meet up with the rest of the dishwashing crew and don the oh-so-stylish plastic apron. We make sure there are enough hands to handle the load of washing that the meal will bring, and then we go through the line to secure our meal.
Taize has a vision of simplicity, among other things. While the bulk of Taize's vision I will touch on in more detail later, the aspect of simplicity hits you immediately when you partake in a meal. Coming to Taize, you can't expect to find gourmet. But Taize is a bit like camp, so even though the food isn't something normal standards would deem high quality, you're so appreciative to be eating three square meals a day that it truly does feel like you're being spoiled when they feed you. Breakfast was my favourite, especially because at the beginning of the week, breakfast and I had a love/hate relationship. Breakfast at Taize include a small baguette (roll of bread), a single serving thing of butter, and a couple sticks of chocolate, with either tea or hot chocolate to drink. What people proceed to do with this assortment of ingredients is the following: tear open bread, apply butter to the inside. Then, as if you're making a sandwich, apply chocolate between the pieces of bread, upon the butter, close pieces of bread, and eat your freshly made chocolate-butter sandwich.
I don't know about you, but this is wierd to me. Thoroughly wierd. I realize I'm in Europe and they're all about Nutella here, but Day 1, it feels too early in the day to be having chocolate. However, by Day 3 I'm hooked to the idea of having chocolate each morning, although I never converted to the "butter and chocolate sandwich" idea. But the chocolate Taize serves is beyond delicious, and I enjoyed my bread and butter with chocolate for a breakfast dessert every single morning. (That being said, the chocolate and tea ALONE is worth coming all the way to Taize. Truly, it's the best I've ever had).
Now that we're done with the meal, we get ready to start cleaning the entire community's dishes. For breakfast, this isn't so bad. Here at Taize they use bowls for the cups, and the bowl/cup for the tea or hot chocolate is the only dish utilized for breakfast. However, when lunchtime rolls around, all dishes are on deck, including trays, plates, a bowl/cup for the beverage, and a spoon as the sole utensil, utilized creatively as a spoon, a fork, and a knife. (You learn quickly when you must make use of what you have. And you're only frustrated by the solitary utensil until you consider how long it would take to clean dishes for 4000 if forks and knives were added).We get the giant vats of hot and cold water ready to receive the dirty dishes, and anywhere from 10-20 sets of hands remove jewelry and watches, and proceed to scrub down the incoming dishes. This is a monotonous task, and often perceived as menial. But when you're making new friends as you wash, and eventually start singing tunes to make the job more fun, it's not long before meeting these great people twice a day and partaking in an hour of sillyness with fellow soldiers in combat against the war of dishes becomes the favourite part of the day, and certainly a time anticipated with much joy. Truly, with the exception of one or two, I met my dearest friends from Taize while washing the dishes. I had challenging and beautiful conversations, I learned new words, and together we created memories, song lyrics, and friendships that I anticipate will last a lifetime. Speaking of which, Taize is a place that seeks to help people find the presence of God in their lives. Personally, I believe that God is available in all places, circumstances, trials, and days. Verena, one of my new friends from Bavaria, commented that in the monotony of washing dishes, a sort of meditation emerges. How beautiful a perspective, to find meditation in the midst of monotony. See what amazing and wise people I was getting to spend time with daily? I think these are the people whose company I value the most: the type of people that inspire me. Not people I always agree with, but people who inspire me and challenge me.
Between breakfast and lunch, the younger people had a bible reflection, while those of us that are older, i.e. 25 and up, had free time. I spent a great deal of this time doing one of two things: either I was in conversation and fellowship with one or more of the people I just washed the dishes with, OR I wandered down to a nearby village to spend some quiet time in prayer in their chapel. In the French countryside, Taize finds a very tranquil environment. It's impossible to hear the noise of trains and rare to hear the sounds of cars driving by, but it's common to hear the wind rustling through the grass and trees, and to hear the noises birds make as they celebrate their existence. I loved this type of silence, especially in these simple and beautiful chapels. It can be terrifying, because you can actually hear yourself think, and if you aren't ready for those thoughts, often noise is the preference. But these became some of my favourite times as well, learning not only to silence my verbal communication, but try to silence my head and my heart as well. I wonder, what does it really mean to listen? With each circumstance I admit I'm still figuring this out.
At 12:20 midday prayer happens, and again, the majority of this time is spent in song. The brothers will read some scripture, and utter some prayers, although in multiple languages, but all in all, it's a beautiful and peaceful experience, one I came to really enjoy. Then we lunch, and this repeats the breakfast process, except, as I mentioned, all dishes available are on deck, so it takes at least twice as long. But to me this only meant more laughter, songs, and times of fellowship, plus we still get to eat first. :)
After lunch, there's a longer stretch of free time, available to be filled with the "25 and up" bible reflection, in addition to some worship each evening. For a couple days I did the bible reflection, but as the week progressed I chose to spend the time in other ways, which usually consisted in conversation, fellowship, or times of prayer at my beloved chapels.
Then in the evening we had dinner, sans cleaning up dishes for Stephanie, then evening prayer, following much the same format. The prayer times usually lasted from 45 minutes to an hour, and the evening prayer could potentially go longer, but only if some people wanted to stay.
After evening prayer, there was a spot that served drinks that had a great location for people to congregate, and sometimes I'd go and join in the celebration of existence. But often prayer ended at 21:30 or 22:00 (9:30 pm or 10:00 pm), and frankly, I was tired, since we wake up at 7:45 or so to make it to morning prayer.
Besides the loose schedule, the times of peaceful prayer, and the glorious beauty of the French countryside, the appeal for me with Taize is the vision behind the community. Not only is it beautiful physically, but the beauty emanates from within. It is a community intended to welcome people from all ethnicities, backgrounds, beliefs, perspectives, histories, genders, and ages, for a week at a time, into a place where reconciliation is the aim. It it a place that aims for a Love between all people as the Lord defined it, in the unconditional sense. (The Greek word is "agape".) And so, when you arrive and live at Taize for your week or perhaps longer, you find yourself amidst a constant interaction with other cultures, languages, affiliations, and experiences. It's phenomenal. I rarely met another American while I was there, instead the people I spent most of my time with were from Hamburg, Bavaria, Slovakia, Latvia, Austria, London, France, Ireland, etc, some of which I truly hope to visit later on this summer, if possible. And as you wash dishes, engage in service of others, and share in laughter and song, you find authentic friendships developing, with no regard for whether this person's views of the world align with yours ideologically or on any other front. You find the vision of Taize coming alive in the smallest of moments, and as you put a face and friendship on the "other" you once feared or misunderstood, all you know is this: I am alive, and it is good, and you are alive, and it is good.
There once was a young woman.
Like any honest human, all this woman wanted out of life was to be loved. Not just adored, not simply cherished, but loved, seen, known, appreciated, enjoyed, and valued.
But when a person goes out into this world and begins to feel like love is out of reach, well, they'll begin to settle. And often the way one settles when in search for love is in the arms of any person that will show them even the slightest glimpse of affection.
Which is what this young woman began to do. Eventually she finds herself engaged in adultery.
But for a while this pursuit of love really worked for her, and she thought she'd really found a place where she was cherished.
Until one day she was caught. Not just caught, she was exposed, dragged into the light, and publicly humiliated.
Somehow, the public officials, government officers, and religious leaders discover her infidelity. Upon making their discovery of this woman, caught in the midst of her intimate moment, they drag her out of her privacy and into the public streets, through the dirt and the grime.
Welcome to the climax of her shame.
They pull this woman through the city, through the streets, up a hill, and into a crowd of people, all the while she is completely helpless to fight back, stop the embarrassment, or cover herself up at all.
Who's ever had the dream about being completely naked at school?
This day is worse.
But back to the woman.
She's being dragged, half-dressed, in her shame, through the dust. The leaders of the society that regularly play golf with her parents, the religious leaders that used to be her Sunday School teachers, the elders that once dealt so kindly with her as a child, that she's always looked up to and respected - they are now dragging her by the hair through town.
Eventually they slow down and let her fall. She drops to the ground, and for a moment she can't tell where she is or who else is around. All she can hear are the men who towed her halfway across town yelling, and as her eyes adjust to the light and she regains her vision, she notices their shouts are all directed at one man.
Suddenly they're lifting her up onto her feet, and the attempt she had made at covering herself with her hands becomes futile. As she squints in the morning sunlight, she's facing hundreds of men, and some women and children. The group of men that have dragged her and been yelling are there holding her up and surrounding her, and behind the man they continue to yell at is a crowd of people sitting down attentively.
This is really the last type of audience she wanted to have in her moment of ecstasy, in her quest for love and acceptance, which has now been transformed into a deep sense of disgrace.
As she looks out on her neighbors, her peers, her friends, her relatives, among others, she suddenly feels the pain that comes from being surrounded by people but completely and utterly alone.
Suddenly the yelling ceases, and her escorts are now speaking more understandably. They refer to the man they've been yelling at as "teacher," and she realizes it's a class that they've interrupted with her indiscretion.
They explain where they found her, how they found her, and she feels the knot develop in her stomach, because she knows what's coming...
...Then they explain that because of her crime (adultery), the punishment is death.
By stones.
They propose, to this teacher whose class they have just interrupted, that they put this woman up against a wall.
They propose that everyone present take a rock/stone in their hand.
And they propose that everyone present precede to throw these stones at the woman up against the wall, until she dies.
Brutal.
Now let me pause here for a second. Because you should know that so far in this story, while these guys may seem like jerks, they are completely in the right.
Let me repeat that: they are absolutely right. They're justified. Validated. Not in the wrong. They win.
What they have said is not against the law, it is not false, nor is it even indecent in the sociological context.
To be fair, these guys are worried about what's best for their society, and maybe a little bit about themselves. They feel threatened, and feel allowing any indecency to occur in their midst would enable crumbling in their system, which has worked well for them for years. They're tough on the rules, because otherwise the entire structure and support everyone counts on would collapse. Who can blame someone that wants to protect what they think is best for their children and the society in which they live?
The one that's in the wrong is the woman. She cheated. Committed adultery. She is messing with the family genes and is therefore deserving of punishment. This punishment. "Stones thrown at you until you're dead" punishment.
The man they're saying all this to knows this, the rules and what's right in this situation. The poor woman can only look on, horrified, as she knows exactly what's coming for her.
The man doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he bends down and starts to write on the ground. The woman looks on anxiously, wondering if he's attempting to start class again. Maybe he didn't hear them, although she's not sure how that's possible.
Her accusers repeat her crimes, demanding the man respond.
The woman wonders if there's more to this story than her recent indiscretion - these men seem to be keen on getting an answer from this man, and she wonders why they haven't just started throwing rocks at her. What's one less arm throwing a stone going to really do to the process of a slow and painful death for her?
After they continue to question him, the man stops writing in the dust, and stands up. He turns to the men who dragged her here, who are still holding her up, who are accusing her and questioning him, and simply says that whomever has never done anything wrong should be the one to throw the first stone at this woman.
Then he drops down to ground level and takes up his writing in the sand once again.
As the men accusing and the religious leaders yelling and the audience crowding around with their stones in hand hear this, they pause. A wave of hesitation sweeps over the anxious crowd. The woman looks around, and you can almost sense everyone at once stand up slowly, as their thoughts drift back into the depths of memory. They remember their own pasts, recall their own mistakes, and shudder, as they are forced to look back at ways they too have been imperfect.
One by one, beginning with the oldest, those with the longest histories, the people leave. The woman watches on, dumbfounded, as the crowd begins to dwindle.
Soon she is standing alone with the man who writes in the ground, the teacher, whose opinion every was so keen on hearing.
"[The man] straightened up and asked her, 'Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?'"
"No one," she said.
"Neither do I condemn you," Jesus said. "Go now, and leave your life of sin." (John 8:1-11)
Why does he let her go? It's not that he's unaware of the law. To be clear, he's completely aware of the letter of the law. But still, he lets her indiscretion slide. Why?
Because of what He understands. He knows her search for love was fruitless, that it was settled for in all the wrong places. He knows that when a person commits adultery, or another sin of any sort, the damage they're really doing is to their heart, and there's a longing inside that isn't being filled in the way it was meant to be filled.
So instead of condemnation, which locks a person to their mistakes and failed attempts at wholeness, he offers grace, and sets her free.
She's pursuing love, so what would condemnation do? Trap her.
What does grace do? Sets her free. To find what she really needs.
He leaves her with the command to leave the life she's been living, knowing that her heart longs to be filled, and the path she's been pursuing will not reach her desired destination. He sets her free to experience the full life she was meant to experience.
And regardless of the fact that the religious leaders and teachers and elders and men of authority were right, it was irrelevant, because there was something more important than being right.
In one of the enjoyable times of fellowship and conversation with one of the dishwashing staff at Taize, my dear friend Sona made this brilliant comment, "People have stones in their hearts, but we should give our stones to God." I don't think she realized at first how profound she'd just been. We'd been discussing Taize and the brilliance of its vision of reconciliation, and the beauty that emerges when people of all different varieties can come together to serve, to live, and to love one another. And I think to love, in the agape, Jesus-sense of the word does just that: it gives up the stones it carries, which imply both that we have something to throw, and a hardness of heart.
Taize's view of reconciliation and love is brilliant because it lets go. We drop our stones, and we pursue people instead. We pursue life for people and for ourselves, and a beautiful, fulfilled way to live it. We pursue wholeness, healing, unity, fellowship, and community.
Needing to be right can lead us to sacrifice that which is most important: the fact that there is a situation, a human, a circumstance right in front of us that needs to be loved, inspired, set free from the bondage from whence it came. We may be right at times, but it's irrelevant unless we're loving, i.e. seeking the best for someone. After all, Jesus gave us two commandments that unite them all: Love, and Love. (Matthew 22:36-40)
So, let us LOVE.
You or I may be right, but without loving someone in the process, it's irrelevant.
"If I have all abilities, all knowledge, all sacrifice, but have not love, I have nothing, and I am nothing." -1 Corinthians 13
Let go of the stones. Drop them. And let Jesus teach us about grace.
At the end of the story, notice that everyone leaves. Personally, I wish they'd stuck around, the ones with stones, the onlookers, etc. Maybe they could have learned something.
But then again, as Mother Theresa once said, "it was always between us and Him anyway."
“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” –Mark Jenkins
"Under the surface, we're all the same. Searching for purpose, running from shame..." -Wideawake
"The most effective medicine here on earth is love unconditional." -Sri Chinmoy
"And they will know you [those who know Me] by the way you Love." - Jesus to the disciples
Monday, May 17, 2010
Blisters.
Alex left for London yesterday, and will be Stateside tomorrow! What a lucky guy. Make sure to give him tons of hugs, and ask for pictures of his hair if you don't see it before his haircut. Those locks are a crazy long length at this point!
I'm currently still in Paris. But today I take a train out to a really neat community in the French countryside, where I'll be for a week or a number of weeks, no telling yet. After that, I'm just not quite sure about what the specific logistics will look like. I may head back to Italy for a bit, do some more exploring. Eventually I'll head to Belgium in June to serve with an organization called MCYM, which is student ministry for the kids of parents in the military. Very cool organization, we'll be taking kids on a couple youth trips, and I have the great pleasure of volunteering on those trips. Very exciting stuff. :)
Then after that I really have no idea. There's a possibility to head to Scotland to volunteer at another amazing and highly reputable community, but I'm still waiting to hear back. Fear not, you'll know when I'm back Stateside.
But until then, I'll be updating when I can, because the lessons and adventures on this trip are not even close to being finished.
What's funny to me is what a trip like this makes a person look like once it has taken its toll, and I mean that physically, mentally, spiritually, physiologically. At day 77, Alex and I have had more than our share of experiences, embarrassment, laughs, frustration, surprises, simple pleasures, confusion, being lost, new friends, taking too many pictures, not getting enough sleep, sleeping in the strangest places, trying to find our way, etc. We've handled tons of maps, broken English directions, metro and train tickets, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, foreign currency, host's keys, etc. All our clothes are dirty and there's a bit of fraying, and we're basically tourist-ed out. We're now used to sleeping anywhere as long as we're horizontal, but every so often we'll find a few hours of REM sleep even sitting upright on a train. We're ready to not be on the move every few days, and while I'll still be traveling even though Alex gets to head home, the blessing is I'll be able to be in one place for a longer amount of time than what we were clocking before.
Not only do we have the pictures and blog and stories and worn backpacks to prove the authenticity of this trip, (That's to say, we haven't been hiding out in a basement somewhere back home faking a 7 hour time difference), but Alex is a little bit scruffier, both of us have crazy long hair, and to look at us you'd notice we're a little worn from the type of living we've been doing. Although, I think he's made it out more unscathed than I have.
On this trip I have had what I believe was food poisoning, and a strange stomach resulting from that experience for about a week and a half. I currently have what look like zombie eyes because of a blood vessel issue in both eyes, so I wear my sunglasses at night (in addition to indoors and out during the day) to avoid frightening little children. The blisters on my feet are on their 6th or 7th generation. Honestly, I never thought I'd get used to walking on blisters, and no longer find it uncomfortable. But truth be told I've grown used to my blistered feet, they no longer cause me pain, discomfort, nor do I really take much notice anymore. A trip like this is guaranteed to take its toll on a person, and would be letting you down if it didn't change you.
In Isaiah there's a verse that says, "How beautiful are the feet of those that bring the good news." (Isaiah 52:7). Take a minute to think about the kind of feet referred to here. I seriously doubt they're foot models. Considering these, and the feet of Jesus and the disciples, those feet have seen a lot of walking in their constant travels, as was necessary to communicate any sort of message to more people than in your small community. I imagine their feet would shock the Vietnamese woman giving pedicures as I'm sure mine would, if not more. Travel, specifically travel by walking, was a staple for the lives of those who wanted to get a message out, and especially a staple for the disciples, etc. And I now have first hand experience of what the feet of a traveler that does a tremendous amount of walking look like.
I'm thankful for the blisters, because they mean we've been traveling. They mean we've gone places, seen things, met people, had experiences, made ripples in the water of this world, experienced growth, and perhaps places and people are different for having met us, or are inspired from having known us, as I know for certain we are different and inspired for having been to those places and met new people. I'm thankful for the callouses that develop from the blister process, for on this journey we have lost layers, of skin, and more importantly, of who we were, layers we thought we needed, only to find that they have been replaced by new, stronger layers underneath.
Did you know that the Monarch butterfly, in caterpillar form, sheds it's skin/shell 4-5 times before it actually undergoes the butterfly transformation process? When it does finally go from caterpillar to butterfly, the emergence from the cocoon is a great struggle for the butterfly. But it is this struggle that gives the butterfly its beauty, and its wings the great strength needed for life. For the more the butterfly struggles when coming out of its cocoon, the stronger and more beautiful its wings will be.
May we grow to be grateful for the struggles and trials we are enduring, whether at home or abroad, knowing that there is a strength and perseverance building up from enduring such things, a beauty soon to behold, a great change going on within. I agree with Paul when he says, "For I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18)
"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like an answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of the affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account."
“To get to know a country, you must have direct contact with the earth. It’s futile to gaze at the world through a car window.” – Albert Einstein
I'm currently still in Paris. But today I take a train out to a really neat community in the French countryside, where I'll be for a week or a number of weeks, no telling yet. After that, I'm just not quite sure about what the specific logistics will look like. I may head back to Italy for a bit, do some more exploring. Eventually I'll head to Belgium in June to serve with an organization called MCYM, which is student ministry for the kids of parents in the military. Very cool organization, we'll be taking kids on a couple youth trips, and I have the great pleasure of volunteering on those trips. Very exciting stuff. :)
Then after that I really have no idea. There's a possibility to head to Scotland to volunteer at another amazing and highly reputable community, but I'm still waiting to hear back. Fear not, you'll know when I'm back Stateside.
But until then, I'll be updating when I can, because the lessons and adventures on this trip are not even close to being finished.
What's funny to me is what a trip like this makes a person look like once it has taken its toll, and I mean that physically, mentally, spiritually, physiologically. At day 77, Alex and I have had more than our share of experiences, embarrassment, laughs, frustration, surprises, simple pleasures, confusion, being lost, new friends, taking too many pictures, not getting enough sleep, sleeping in the strangest places, trying to find our way, etc. We've handled tons of maps, broken English directions, metro and train tickets, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, foreign currency, host's keys, etc. All our clothes are dirty and there's a bit of fraying, and we're basically tourist-ed out. We're now used to sleeping anywhere as long as we're horizontal, but every so often we'll find a few hours of REM sleep even sitting upright on a train. We're ready to not be on the move every few days, and while I'll still be traveling even though Alex gets to head home, the blessing is I'll be able to be in one place for a longer amount of time than what we were clocking before.
Not only do we have the pictures and blog and stories and worn backpacks to prove the authenticity of this trip, (That's to say, we haven't been hiding out in a basement somewhere back home faking a 7 hour time difference), but Alex is a little bit scruffier, both of us have crazy long hair, and to look at us you'd notice we're a little worn from the type of living we've been doing. Although, I think he's made it out more unscathed than I have.
On this trip I have had what I believe was food poisoning, and a strange stomach resulting from that experience for about a week and a half. I currently have what look like zombie eyes because of a blood vessel issue in both eyes, so I wear my sunglasses at night (in addition to indoors and out during the day) to avoid frightening little children. The blisters on my feet are on their 6th or 7th generation. Honestly, I never thought I'd get used to walking on blisters, and no longer find it uncomfortable. But truth be told I've grown used to my blistered feet, they no longer cause me pain, discomfort, nor do I really take much notice anymore. A trip like this is guaranteed to take its toll on a person, and would be letting you down if it didn't change you.
In Isaiah there's a verse that says, "How beautiful are the feet of those that bring the good news." (Isaiah 52:7). Take a minute to think about the kind of feet referred to here. I seriously doubt they're foot models. Considering these, and the feet of Jesus and the disciples, those feet have seen a lot of walking in their constant travels, as was necessary to communicate any sort of message to more people than in your small community. I imagine their feet would shock the Vietnamese woman giving pedicures as I'm sure mine would, if not more. Travel, specifically travel by walking, was a staple for the lives of those who wanted to get a message out, and especially a staple for the disciples, etc. And I now have first hand experience of what the feet of a traveler that does a tremendous amount of walking look like.
I'm thankful for the blisters, because they mean we've been traveling. They mean we've gone places, seen things, met people, had experiences, made ripples in the water of this world, experienced growth, and perhaps places and people are different for having met us, or are inspired from having known us, as I know for certain we are different and inspired for having been to those places and met new people. I'm thankful for the callouses that develop from the blister process, for on this journey we have lost layers, of skin, and more importantly, of who we were, layers we thought we needed, only to find that they have been replaced by new, stronger layers underneath.
Did you know that the Monarch butterfly, in caterpillar form, sheds it's skin/shell 4-5 times before it actually undergoes the butterfly transformation process? When it does finally go from caterpillar to butterfly, the emergence from the cocoon is a great struggle for the butterfly. But it is this struggle that gives the butterfly its beauty, and its wings the great strength needed for life. For the more the butterfly struggles when coming out of its cocoon, the stronger and more beautiful its wings will be.
May we grow to be grateful for the struggles and trials we are enduring, whether at home or abroad, knowing that there is a strength and perseverance building up from enduring such things, a beauty soon to behold, a great change going on within. I agree with Paul when he says, "For I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18)
"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like an answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of the affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account."
“To get to know a country, you must have direct contact with the earth. It’s futile to gaze at the world through a car window.” – Albert Einstein
Monday, May 10, 2010
Invisibility on the Metro.
Imagine a train station. Imagine high ceilings, long hallways, and lighted boards constantly flickering, displaying destinations and times and platform numbers. Imagine directional signs guiding a person towards luggage storage, the ticket counter, the toilets, the exit, and the nearest metro station. Imagine escalators and stairs going in every direction, leading the masses to various platforms, through security checks, to local restaurant flavor and shopping for the traveler to nourish their needs and spending desires. Imagine flurries of people with suitcases, backpacks, pets, children, guidebooks, cell phones, and maps, meandering through such a scene, all in a hurry, trying to avoid all obstacles, human and inanimate, that may be in their frantic way.
Imagine a metro station. Imagine a dark tunnel, with one or two sets of rails parked in between opposite platforms. Imagine a row of ticket machines with lines of people in front of them, all fishing through their pockets for change as they navigate the 21st century touch screen. Imagine the crowds pouring down the escalators from upper to lower levels, and the stairways packed with people moving at a slow pace that allows no one to be in much of a hurry. Imagine rows of turnstiles checking your purchased ticket that's small enough to be impossible not to lose, with all but two of the turnstiles in either direction out of order. Imagine colorful maps and color-coated signs directing the masses to the correct destination and line. Imagine trains that run on time and follow the "every two minutes" time clock on the one board per tunnel, but train cars that are so packed that you can often forget about sitting down, in fact, you're always breathing in the flavor of someone else's chewing gum, your hands slip due to the humidity of so many people from the bars that are meant to help stabilize as the train weaves through the winding tunnels, all the while you're wishing you could be one of the people only carrying a purse instead of the giant backpack your current lifestyle demands.
These days, these are the places I live.
And these are my neighbors, the people I sit next to but never speak with, the people whose personal space I have invaded and they've invaded mine but we've never introduced ourselves, the people I've spent hours with going from one country to another but have never known what their passions are or who their dearest friends are, nor do they know this information about me.
These are my neighbors, and half the time, I don't even see them. Perhaps they don't even see me. (Although, when Alex and I have the backpacks on, everyone sees us.) This isn't an animous or bitter observation, because especially on the metro, we aim to go unseen. Not only can it be awkward to make eye contact, but you're focused on going from point A to point B, you're counting the stops until yours, and a person hardly has time to concern themselves with who else is riding the same metro. People on the metro avoid eye contact, put on their headphones, stick their noses in books; they stay in their own world for the same reason I dress even more conservatively than I do back home: we don't want to be noticed. We're aiming for invisibility.
And this makes sense in the context. You're on your way to or from work, your mind is in another place, you're trying to get something done, etc. Perhaps it's purely an effort to mentally use the time efficiently, or it could be that after a long and trying day, it's nice to get some quiet and not have to interact for your 30 minute commute home. Perhaps you just don't want to be a possible victim of the common theft that often occurs in such places.
The invisibility can be quite appealing, I imagine. Whether traveling from city to city or enjoying the personal seclusion of the crowded metro, you're never really staying long enough for people to actually see you, or for any sort of responsibility or ownership to settle in. We've been traveling for over two months now, and honestly, we make new friends every single day. But even if we spend a few days exploring cities and sharing in laughs with these people, we don't ever get the pleasure of really getting to know their depth, or letting them know ours.
And the cities, don't even get me started on how much we don't see in each city and country. It's impossible to do unless you have months and years of time to dedicate to each. When backpacking, time really only allows you to scratch the surface with people and places, and honestly, you really only get to wave at them, then bid them the best of luck in their travels.
Most of the time, this is acceptable, at least to us. Because we're on a mission to see places and keep moving, and it's not all that sad to leave things behind with such a bright future ahead. But then again, every once in a while you meet someone, or you encounter a place, and leaving doesn't become so easy anymore.
Did you know that when you ride the metro, you purchase a ticket in the denomination of "journeys"? Meaning, you can purchase one "journey", or you can purchase, let's say, 10 "journeys", which is a handy purchase for the tourist/traveler such as we are.
But one "journey" is defined as the distance from where you first enter the metro, to where you last exit the metro. That being said, a "journey" could consist of riding only one line, if that's all it takes to get to where you're going, or it could involve two or three metro lines, and multiple interchanges. From when you first enter the metro system to when you eventually exit, this is all under the definition of one, single "journey."
So theoretically, if a person had the time and desire, for the small price of a "one journey" ticket, one could just ride the metro all day long, never exiting to return up above to the hustle and bustle of life, never getting off at a stop to go out and participate in the world around. A person could just keep on riding the metro, to their heart's content.
Come to think of it, it seems entirely possible that a person could spend their entire life on the hypothetical metro, never getting off at any stop, never actually participating in a life where people see you and know you.
I suppose you could be anyone on the metro, or while traveling. The other day, we were at a hostel in Lisbon, and the 47762657th person asked me what I would do when I went home/what I did when I wasn't traveling. Instead of giving them the honest epic tale briefly telling of 2-3 years searching for purpose and enlightenment, which is still ongoing, I thought I'd spare this stranger/potential friend the bore, and instead provide some lightheartedness between us. So I simply responded,
"I'm a ninja."
And without missing a beat, he was clever enough to respond with comments about the job security of such a career and his personal struggle with tapping into such a secretive job market. It's always a good day when you find someone so quick-witted and easygoing as that with which to banter.
But the thought then occurred to me how easy this would be to do everywhere. One city I could play the ninja card, then next city or country I'm an underwater basket weaver, another I'm a pirate on leave, and the next perhaps my life consists of circus performances and finely tuned trapeze skills.
And like the hypothetical metro, I would remain in a perpetual state of invisibility, because no one would ever actually get to know who I really am.
For the last 6-7 years, I've lived a life that many would consider nomadic. Never quite satisfied with where I was, the place and the path I was pursuing continued to change every few months or year. A mentor once said I was simply having trouble adjusting to the point in life where it was time to lay down roots. But at this news I was appauled - I had no intention, at the time of that conversation, to lay down any roots anywhere. It wasn't that I was having trouble adjusting, it was that I was adamantly rejecting the idea! That was 3 years ago. Now, I'm beginning to see that traveling is teaching me what it really means to be somewhere, and the type of place I'd really like to be, what it means to really get to know a place, a city, etc, not to mention the type of person I'd really like to be. (Yes, a ninja.)
Traveling can be so glamorous, but as we move from place to place I begin to hear the Postal Service's cold words in the back of my head, "I am a visitor here, I am not permanent..."
I think after a while it will be time to get off the hypothetical metro, and hopefully we all find a place where we can do so. There's something very beautiful about finding your way home, to the people that you'd like to let go of the invisibility for. I suppose it can be frightening, letting down one's guard, because what if they don't like what they see, or we don't like who we really are behind the fun and entertaining "ninja" mask? But to have a place where people know you, where you're really seen in a deep and powerful way, can be the most incredible feeling and reality to discover. I know there is great beauty to be found in places I can visit. But what can be said about the beauty of a place you don't want to leave?
Perhaps we're all trying to get home, to a place where we can let down our guard, and be visible, to people. Except I wonder, if you ride the hypothetical metro long enough, do you forget how to be anything but invisible?
If you know and see me, you can inspire me, encourage me, support me, cry with me, laugh with me, gently help me see my faults and blind spots, grow with me, and share in all things that life entails with me. If I know and see you, I have the great pleasure of doing the same, and I can share in your life with you. But as exciting as it can be to constantly be on the move, unless we get off the metro and dig in somewhere, we will never be able to experience more than this surface level joy with people, or with the places we visit.
It doesn't even have to be literal travel. Like I said, the metro could be hypothetical. Proximity to someone does not automatically mean depth of relationship, and your literal neighbors could be just as foreign to you as those I ride the metro with daily. On the other side, there are those that I do not currently see at all that know my heart more deeply than everyone else on the planet. I think, like in the case of the metro or the ninja question, it all depends on how much we let someone else see into who we really are, and if we're actually listening when someone decides to let us see who they really are.
My hope is that whatever our travels may be, we are learning what it means to dig in to a place, to fully be known to people and to fully know people, to stop 'flirting with life' and to start building solid relationships and legacies. Because it is becoming increasingly obvious that it is people that make up the stories worth telling, that make the memories worth reliving, and that make the journey and places come to life.
"Everybody's talkin' in words I don't understand
You've got to be the only one who knows just who I am...
Cause you make it real to me" -James Morrison
"We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend." -Robert Louis Stevenson
“Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’” –Lisa St. Aubin de Teran
Imagine a metro station. Imagine a dark tunnel, with one or two sets of rails parked in between opposite platforms. Imagine a row of ticket machines with lines of people in front of them, all fishing through their pockets for change as they navigate the 21st century touch screen. Imagine the crowds pouring down the escalators from upper to lower levels, and the stairways packed with people moving at a slow pace that allows no one to be in much of a hurry. Imagine rows of turnstiles checking your purchased ticket that's small enough to be impossible not to lose, with all but two of the turnstiles in either direction out of order. Imagine colorful maps and color-coated signs directing the masses to the correct destination and line. Imagine trains that run on time and follow the "every two minutes" time clock on the one board per tunnel, but train cars that are so packed that you can often forget about sitting down, in fact, you're always breathing in the flavor of someone else's chewing gum, your hands slip due to the humidity of so many people from the bars that are meant to help stabilize as the train weaves through the winding tunnels, all the while you're wishing you could be one of the people only carrying a purse instead of the giant backpack your current lifestyle demands.
These days, these are the places I live.
And these are my neighbors, the people I sit next to but never speak with, the people whose personal space I have invaded and they've invaded mine but we've never introduced ourselves, the people I've spent hours with going from one country to another but have never known what their passions are or who their dearest friends are, nor do they know this information about me.
These are my neighbors, and half the time, I don't even see them. Perhaps they don't even see me. (Although, when Alex and I have the backpacks on, everyone sees us.) This isn't an animous or bitter observation, because especially on the metro, we aim to go unseen. Not only can it be awkward to make eye contact, but you're focused on going from point A to point B, you're counting the stops until yours, and a person hardly has time to concern themselves with who else is riding the same metro. People on the metro avoid eye contact, put on their headphones, stick their noses in books; they stay in their own world for the same reason I dress even more conservatively than I do back home: we don't want to be noticed. We're aiming for invisibility.
And this makes sense in the context. You're on your way to or from work, your mind is in another place, you're trying to get something done, etc. Perhaps it's purely an effort to mentally use the time efficiently, or it could be that after a long and trying day, it's nice to get some quiet and not have to interact for your 30 minute commute home. Perhaps you just don't want to be a possible victim of the common theft that often occurs in such places.
The invisibility can be quite appealing, I imagine. Whether traveling from city to city or enjoying the personal seclusion of the crowded metro, you're never really staying long enough for people to actually see you, or for any sort of responsibility or ownership to settle in. We've been traveling for over two months now, and honestly, we make new friends every single day. But even if we spend a few days exploring cities and sharing in laughs with these people, we don't ever get the pleasure of really getting to know their depth, or letting them know ours.
And the cities, don't even get me started on how much we don't see in each city and country. It's impossible to do unless you have months and years of time to dedicate to each. When backpacking, time really only allows you to scratch the surface with people and places, and honestly, you really only get to wave at them, then bid them the best of luck in their travels.
Most of the time, this is acceptable, at least to us. Because we're on a mission to see places and keep moving, and it's not all that sad to leave things behind with such a bright future ahead. But then again, every once in a while you meet someone, or you encounter a place, and leaving doesn't become so easy anymore.
Did you know that when you ride the metro, you purchase a ticket in the denomination of "journeys"? Meaning, you can purchase one "journey", or you can purchase, let's say, 10 "journeys", which is a handy purchase for the tourist/traveler such as we are.
But one "journey" is defined as the distance from where you first enter the metro, to where you last exit the metro. That being said, a "journey" could consist of riding only one line, if that's all it takes to get to where you're going, or it could involve two or three metro lines, and multiple interchanges. From when you first enter the metro system to when you eventually exit, this is all under the definition of one, single "journey."
So theoretically, if a person had the time and desire, for the small price of a "one journey" ticket, one could just ride the metro all day long, never exiting to return up above to the hustle and bustle of life, never getting off at a stop to go out and participate in the world around. A person could just keep on riding the metro, to their heart's content.
Come to think of it, it seems entirely possible that a person could spend their entire life on the hypothetical metro, never getting off at any stop, never actually participating in a life where people see you and know you.
I suppose you could be anyone on the metro, or while traveling. The other day, we were at a hostel in Lisbon, and the 47762657th person asked me what I would do when I went home/what I did when I wasn't traveling. Instead of giving them the honest epic tale briefly telling of 2-3 years searching for purpose and enlightenment, which is still ongoing, I thought I'd spare this stranger/potential friend the bore, and instead provide some lightheartedness between us. So I simply responded,
"I'm a ninja."
And without missing a beat, he was clever enough to respond with comments about the job security of such a career and his personal struggle with tapping into such a secretive job market. It's always a good day when you find someone so quick-witted and easygoing as that with which to banter.
But the thought then occurred to me how easy this would be to do everywhere. One city I could play the ninja card, then next city or country I'm an underwater basket weaver, another I'm a pirate on leave, and the next perhaps my life consists of circus performances and finely tuned trapeze skills.
And like the hypothetical metro, I would remain in a perpetual state of invisibility, because no one would ever actually get to know who I really am.
For the last 6-7 years, I've lived a life that many would consider nomadic. Never quite satisfied with where I was, the place and the path I was pursuing continued to change every few months or year. A mentor once said I was simply having trouble adjusting to the point in life where it was time to lay down roots. But at this news I was appauled - I had no intention, at the time of that conversation, to lay down any roots anywhere. It wasn't that I was having trouble adjusting, it was that I was adamantly rejecting the idea! That was 3 years ago. Now, I'm beginning to see that traveling is teaching me what it really means to be somewhere, and the type of place I'd really like to be, what it means to really get to know a place, a city, etc, not to mention the type of person I'd really like to be. (Yes, a ninja.)
Traveling can be so glamorous, but as we move from place to place I begin to hear the Postal Service's cold words in the back of my head, "I am a visitor here, I am not permanent..."
I think after a while it will be time to get off the hypothetical metro, and hopefully we all find a place where we can do so. There's something very beautiful about finding your way home, to the people that you'd like to let go of the invisibility for. I suppose it can be frightening, letting down one's guard, because what if they don't like what they see, or we don't like who we really are behind the fun and entertaining "ninja" mask? But to have a place where people know you, where you're really seen in a deep and powerful way, can be the most incredible feeling and reality to discover. I know there is great beauty to be found in places I can visit. But what can be said about the beauty of a place you don't want to leave?
Perhaps we're all trying to get home, to a place where we can let down our guard, and be visible, to people. Except I wonder, if you ride the hypothetical metro long enough, do you forget how to be anything but invisible?
If you know and see me, you can inspire me, encourage me, support me, cry with me, laugh with me, gently help me see my faults and blind spots, grow with me, and share in all things that life entails with me. If I know and see you, I have the great pleasure of doing the same, and I can share in your life with you. But as exciting as it can be to constantly be on the move, unless we get off the metro and dig in somewhere, we will never be able to experience more than this surface level joy with people, or with the places we visit.
It doesn't even have to be literal travel. Like I said, the metro could be hypothetical. Proximity to someone does not automatically mean depth of relationship, and your literal neighbors could be just as foreign to you as those I ride the metro with daily. On the other side, there are those that I do not currently see at all that know my heart more deeply than everyone else on the planet. I think, like in the case of the metro or the ninja question, it all depends on how much we let someone else see into who we really are, and if we're actually listening when someone decides to let us see who they really are.
My hope is that whatever our travels may be, we are learning what it means to dig in to a place, to fully be known to people and to fully know people, to stop 'flirting with life' and to start building solid relationships and legacies. Because it is becoming increasingly obvious that it is people that make up the stories worth telling, that make the memories worth reliving, and that make the journey and places come to life.
"Everybody's talkin' in words I don't understand
You've got to be the only one who knows just who I am...
Cause you make it real to me" -James Morrison
"We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend." -Robert Louis Stevenson
“Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’” –Lisa St. Aubin de Teran
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Some days you turn 25.
Like today, for example.
Some days your birthday is on Mother's Day, and the two go poetically hand in hand, since you're her oldest child. :) You're thankful she decided to be a mom, that she keeps deciding to be a great one, and you're thankful to be alive yet another year, breathing oxygen and all that jazz.
Some days, you're traveling, backpacking through Europe with your 19 year old brother.
Some days, like today, you sleep and wake up on a train, even if it's your birthday. Because the day still has its priorities and demands, and right now the priorities and plans involve travel.
Some days, you're surrounded by strangers that have no idea today is so special in your world, as my current neighbors are always strangers, and my current neighborhood(s) are metro and train stations.
Some days are better than others, especially when traveling.
Some days, despite your careful planning, volcanic ash and other things in the universe cause your well-laid plans to go awry, and instead of making it all the way to Italy tonight, you find yourself stuck in places you didn't plan to be.
But some days being stuck isn't so bad.
Because some days do take their own course, but often, if you listen as the day unfolds, things can turn out quite better than you'd planned, people can surprise you, and a day you might have thought to be regular and a birthday you thought might pass by rather unnoticed can turn out to be absolutely blissful.
Some days you end up sleeping in Barcelona rather than on another night train. Which means that some days, this 25 year old gets the opportunity to get a shower and sleep in a comfy bed rather than a train seat, go for an evening run on the beach in Barcelona, enjoy a free meal, use the free internet to receive her warm birthday wishes from her thoughtful friends and family, and go to the zoo with her brother and their new friends to celebrate her 25 years of existence.
Some days, much like this trip, are nothing like I expected. But when given the chance to run their course, most days, especially this trip, are everything I hoped they would be. Some days are not what we imagined, but exactly what we needed.
I love days like these. :)
“To travel is to live.” -Hans Christian Andersen
“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey.” -Fitzhugh Mullan
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” -Martin Buber
Some days your birthday is on Mother's Day, and the two go poetically hand in hand, since you're her oldest child. :) You're thankful she decided to be a mom, that she keeps deciding to be a great one, and you're thankful to be alive yet another year, breathing oxygen and all that jazz.
Some days, you're traveling, backpacking through Europe with your 19 year old brother.
Some days, like today, you sleep and wake up on a train, even if it's your birthday. Because the day still has its priorities and demands, and right now the priorities and plans involve travel.
Some days, you're surrounded by strangers that have no idea today is so special in your world, as my current neighbors are always strangers, and my current neighborhood(s) are metro and train stations.
Some days are better than others, especially when traveling.
Some days, despite your careful planning, volcanic ash and other things in the universe cause your well-laid plans to go awry, and instead of making it all the way to Italy tonight, you find yourself stuck in places you didn't plan to be.
But some days being stuck isn't so bad.
Because some days do take their own course, but often, if you listen as the day unfolds, things can turn out quite better than you'd planned, people can surprise you, and a day you might have thought to be regular and a birthday you thought might pass by rather unnoticed can turn out to be absolutely blissful.
Some days you end up sleeping in Barcelona rather than on another night train. Which means that some days, this 25 year old gets the opportunity to get a shower and sleep in a comfy bed rather than a train seat, go for an evening run on the beach in Barcelona, enjoy a free meal, use the free internet to receive her warm birthday wishes from her thoughtful friends and family, and go to the zoo with her brother and their new friends to celebrate her 25 years of existence.
Some days, much like this trip, are nothing like I expected. But when given the chance to run their course, most days, especially this trip, are everything I hoped they would be. Some days are not what we imagined, but exactly what we needed.
I love days like these. :)
“To travel is to live.” -Hans Christian Andersen
“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey.” -Fitzhugh Mullan
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” -Martin Buber
Sunday, May 2, 2010
15 days until the next great adventure.
15 days until Alex and I part ways. He'll head back to the States and I'll head to the French countryside for a bit.
We're currently in Barcelona, and tomorrow we leave for Madrid.
I turn 25 in one week. And all I ask for my birthday is that you have and enjoy some Taco Bell, on May 9th. That would be the best gift ever. :)
We're still having a great time. But I think in some ways we're ready for what's next. For Alex, the land of the free and the home of the brave, complete with free refills, Taco Bell, good friends and loved ones. For me, a time of some very cool and highly recommended communities where I get the chance to volunteer, meet some incredible kids, go back to Italy for a while, go to the French countryside, go back up to Scotland, and hopefully be completely ready for the path and graduate study I'll pursue when I do finally return to the States. We'll see how it all plays out... :)
For Alex the trip is almost over, at least the trip abroad. J.M. Barrie said, in his tale Peter Pan, "To live will be a great adventure."
For me, I haven't even hit the halfway point for being abroad yet.
Unbelievable.
It's funny to me to think how life goes on, even when we may feel the world should stop turning because of an event or circumstance. Someone dies, and the rest of the world gets up the next morning and drives to work and goes about their business as if they're unaware that our world has stopped. Someone leaves/moves, and even though they're missed, we carry on, we go about our days. 9/11 happens in the States, and Texas still has their football games and practices. The London Underground is bombed, and the British still carry on, business as usual, by riding the Tube, as if nothing happened. It's not insensitive, and it's not just the sorrowful moments. It's actually quite brilliant. For if the world stopped turning every time an event of great magnitude occured, at the macro or micro level, nothing would ever get done, there would be no force of time pulling forward the grieving/healing process, and we'd all have a bit of metaphysical whiplash from the world constantly slamming on the brakes.
Alex and I, we've certainly changed. We may not be aware of how we've changed, or that we've changed at all, but after visiting over 50 cities in 2.5 months, meeting a handful of people in each country, and sharing in meals, laughs, and adventures with those people and the various cities, a person can't go through such things and not come out the other end different than how he or she went in. Absolutely unavoidable.
And yet, you've changed too. You've had days and seen things and had experiences that we haven't been able to share in with you. Life has carried on back home even though we weren't there to live it with you.
When we return home, you may think our stories are more exciting to hear and tell. But I beg to differ, because where you were, life was happening and people were interacting and transportation was necessary and not always predictable...and we're going to want to hear about it.
We promise to tell you our stories, and hopefully avoid too much embellishment. Hopefully up until this point you've felt like you've been able to join in some of our experiences. But you should tell us yours too. Because we're coming home, to reinsert ourselves back into your lives, and we have every intention of having just as much fun in the day to day, as we had here in Europe, living the alleged "adventurous" life. Because I agree with J.M. Barrie. I think, among the people that we love and cherish and have missed ever so much, the people we can't wait to get home to, to laugh with and hug once again, to meet at Starbucks, Taco Bell, or anywhere conducive for some phenomenal conversation, to watch hours of tv series marathons and movies with and live the daily life with - to be back among our people and living, that is the next great adventure.
Personally, I am so looking forward to it. :)
"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." - Lin Yutang
"I should like to spend the whole of my in life travelling abroad, if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend afterwards at home.” – William Hazlitt
“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” – George Moore
We're currently in Barcelona, and tomorrow we leave for Madrid.
I turn 25 in one week. And all I ask for my birthday is that you have and enjoy some Taco Bell, on May 9th. That would be the best gift ever. :)
We're still having a great time. But I think in some ways we're ready for what's next. For Alex, the land of the free and the home of the brave, complete with free refills, Taco Bell, good friends and loved ones. For me, a time of some very cool and highly recommended communities where I get the chance to volunteer, meet some incredible kids, go back to Italy for a while, go to the French countryside, go back up to Scotland, and hopefully be completely ready for the path and graduate study I'll pursue when I do finally return to the States. We'll see how it all plays out... :)
For Alex the trip is almost over, at least the trip abroad. J.M. Barrie said, in his tale Peter Pan, "To live will be a great adventure."
For me, I haven't even hit the halfway point for being abroad yet.
Unbelievable.
It's funny to me to think how life goes on, even when we may feel the world should stop turning because of an event or circumstance. Someone dies, and the rest of the world gets up the next morning and drives to work and goes about their business as if they're unaware that our world has stopped. Someone leaves/moves, and even though they're missed, we carry on, we go about our days. 9/11 happens in the States, and Texas still has their football games and practices. The London Underground is bombed, and the British still carry on, business as usual, by riding the Tube, as if nothing happened. It's not insensitive, and it's not just the sorrowful moments. It's actually quite brilliant. For if the world stopped turning every time an event of great magnitude occured, at the macro or micro level, nothing would ever get done, there would be no force of time pulling forward the grieving/healing process, and we'd all have a bit of metaphysical whiplash from the world constantly slamming on the brakes.
Alex and I, we've certainly changed. We may not be aware of how we've changed, or that we've changed at all, but after visiting over 50 cities in 2.5 months, meeting a handful of people in each country, and sharing in meals, laughs, and adventures with those people and the various cities, a person can't go through such things and not come out the other end different than how he or she went in. Absolutely unavoidable.
And yet, you've changed too. You've had days and seen things and had experiences that we haven't been able to share in with you. Life has carried on back home even though we weren't there to live it with you.
When we return home, you may think our stories are more exciting to hear and tell. But I beg to differ, because where you were, life was happening and people were interacting and transportation was necessary and not always predictable...and we're going to want to hear about it.
We promise to tell you our stories, and hopefully avoid too much embellishment. Hopefully up until this point you've felt like you've been able to join in some of our experiences. But you should tell us yours too. Because we're coming home, to reinsert ourselves back into your lives, and we have every intention of having just as much fun in the day to day, as we had here in Europe, living the alleged "adventurous" life. Because I agree with J.M. Barrie. I think, among the people that we love and cherish and have missed ever so much, the people we can't wait to get home to, to laugh with and hug once again, to meet at Starbucks, Taco Bell, or anywhere conducive for some phenomenal conversation, to watch hours of tv series marathons and movies with and live the daily life with - to be back among our people and living, that is the next great adventure.
Personally, I am so looking forward to it. :)
"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." - Lin Yutang
"I should like to spend the whole of my in life travelling abroad, if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend afterwards at home.” – William Hazlitt
“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” – George Moore
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Public transportation: 2. Stephanie & Alex: 0.
Time for an update, for you, the Reader. It's Day 57. In exactly 21 days, Alex heads back home. Can you believe it's gone by so quickly?
Now, to catch you up, let's answer the question we get at least once a day, as we're meeting tons of new people and everyone wants to hear about our travels thus far:
"Where have you been so far?"
I'll tell you.
England (London, Windsor, Manchester, York, Bath, Salisbury)
Scotland (Inverness, Aberdeen, Edinburgh)
Wales (Cardiff)
Ireland (Dublin, Rosslare)
France (Cherbourg, Paris)
Belgium (Brussels, Brugge)
The Netherlands (Leeuwarden, Amsterdam)
Germany (Berlin, Munich, Frankfurt, Konstanz)
Switzerland (the Alps)
Finland (Lahti, Helsinki)
Sweden (Stockholm)
Norway (Oslo, Bergen)
Denmark (Copenhagen)
Czech Republic (Plzen, Karlovy Vary, Prague)
Austria (Innsbruck, Salzburg, Vienna)
and
Italy (Venice, Varese, Milan, Bologna, Florence, Genoa, Latina, Rome)
Thus far.
Like I said, there's still three weeks left of the backpacking portion of this trip, and more sights, cities, delicious food, and people to meet.
Since we're moving at such a rapid pace, it was nearly impossible to prepare ourselves Rosetta Stone style for all the communication. But you'll be happy to know, we're learning at least one new language:
The Language of Public Transportation. (Not yet available in Rosetta Stone.)
Now, to catch you up, let's answer the question we get at least once a day, as we're meeting tons of new people and everyone wants to hear about our travels thus far:
"Where have you been so far?"
I'll tell you.
England (London, Windsor, Manchester, York, Bath, Salisbury)
Scotland (Inverness, Aberdeen, Edinburgh)
Wales (Cardiff)
Ireland (Dublin, Rosslare)
France (Cherbourg, Paris)
Belgium (Brussels, Brugge)
The Netherlands (Leeuwarden, Amsterdam)
Germany (Berlin, Munich, Frankfurt, Konstanz)
Switzerland (the Alps)
Finland (Lahti, Helsinki)
Sweden (Stockholm)
Norway (Oslo, Bergen)
Denmark (Copenhagen)
Czech Republic (Plzen, Karlovy Vary, Prague)
Austria (Innsbruck, Salzburg, Vienna)
and
Italy (Venice, Varese, Milan, Bologna, Florence, Genoa, Latina, Rome)
Thus far.
Like I said, there's still three weeks left of the backpacking portion of this trip, and more sights, cities, delicious food, and people to meet.
Since we're moving at such a rapid pace, it was nearly impossible to prepare ourselves Rosetta Stone style for all the communication. But you'll be happy to know, we're learning at least one new language:
The Language of Public Transportation. (Not yet available in Rosetta Stone.)
For those of you that have experience living in a big city with lively and fully functioning public transportation, this is probably a language you already know. But coming from a small town near a big city that relies on the automobile for a person's main means of transport - the public transportation system is not our first language, or forte.
But, rule # 7 is this: If you learn how to navigate the public transportation system, it will be almost as if you actually speak the language.
For example, I don't speak Dutch, French, German, much Italian, or any of the Scandinavian languages, but within seconds of entering a train station I can now find the information booth, and know which word means platform, train number, etc. I never understand what the people on the overhead announcements are saying when they speak to the passengers, but I have learned how to recognize when it's time for our stop. (For the most part - more on that later...) I know now what "next stop" is in multiple languages. I know when they want to see my ticket/rail pass, even though I never understand what they're saying.
I've learned to simply recognize the word of the stop, and can successfully communicate to a native where I need to be. I never have a clue what the rest of the words are, and I couldn't carry on a more detailed conversation with any of the natives in the countries, but I can successfully count the number of stops from where I am (insert the name I just read from the sign here), to where I need to be (insert the name of the location I need here).
But just because we're learning a new language doesn't mean we always win when it comes to speaking this language.
Most of you know this, but I'm going to state it anyway. Alex and I, we're Texans. Not just any Texans either, we're from the DFW/Houston/Austin areas. Those are the places Alex and I have spent the most time while living in the Lone Star State. Those of you familiar with said cities and our state are familiar with the lack of a public transportation system that could legitimately rival Europe's.
Just when we thought we'd really conquered the train system in Europe, this occurred:
16:37 we're supposed to leave from Florence to Pisa. Italian trains are notorious for running on their own schedule, and true to form, our train pulls away from the station at 16:57. Given this delay, I mentally factor in an extra 20 minutes until we're supposed to arrive at our destination. The train to Pisa is roughly an hour.five long. We didn't sleep the healthy 8-9 hours the night before, so on the train Alex dozes off. He usually seems to count on me to be on top of the game when we're on the train and he's tired, and I don't mind. But after being on trains for 2 months on a regular basis, we've caught on to when we can relax and when we need to keep alert. This train on the schedule appears to be ending in Pisa, and that kind of stop is nearly impossible to miss. So while I never doze off on the train, I definitely nod off once or twice. And at one point, I start to think "we should have made it to Pisa by now." But as I'm aware of the reputation of Italy trains, I'm not concerned. Although...it's never served me poorly to ask for directions, so I walk up to an old woman with kind eyes, and ask her how far to Pisa.
"Pisa?"
"Si."
(Points over her shoulder). "Back. We...already pass. You miss."
"Oh."
Honestly, I'm not concerned, or really jilted. It's just one of those moments where I realize, what the heck are you going to do?
So I return to my seat and inform Alex. He responds with the same composed demeanor. I mean honestly, what are you going to do at this point? So we at first consider getting off at the next big stop. But after one smaller stop, we begin to think it could be quite a while before we get to the next major station. So we get off at the next stop, anticipating a train will come through heading in the opposite direction to take us back from whence we came.
The lady with kind eyes gets off at the same random stop we chose: S. Stefano Magra. (Actually, it's a beautiful place, definitely not a bad place to get stranded.) The lady continues in her kindness by asking again, "You go to Pisa, no?" We nod, and then explain we'd like to get there or to Rome. She proceeds to explain to us that this isn't a major station, and we can't get to Rome from here. But we can get back to Pisa, or carry on to La Spezia. She runs off to check the schedule. (This should be known - we're under a bit of a time crunch. From Pisa, trains don't run all night to Rome, and we're currently running the risk of missing the last train of the day. This fact is in the back of our minds the entire time.) Turns out there's a rain leaving within the hour that gets back to Pisa, but it doesn't arrive until roughly 15 minutes past the last train to Rome. The reason we're so keen on getting straight to Rome tonight is this: we have a Couchsurfing host there awaiting us, and not only would we prefer not to pay for accomodations if we already have them lined up, but we're anxious to get to Rome, meet up with Allison, and explore.)
So we hope the next train to La Spezia at 19:28. Arriving at La Spezia Centrale at 19:46, we have roughly 14 minutes to catch the train to Rome, the last train of the evening. But, it requires a reservation, and we've arrived a few minutes late. So I drop my stuff down with Alex at the platform, and race off to secure a reservation for us. (If you don't make a reservation for a train that requires one, you can incur a 40 euro fee, if not more.) But not only am I running short on time, but I really have to pee, don't have any time to do so, and while a nice Nigerian let me go in front of him in my angst and rush, the two Chinese girls at the counter in front of me did not share my passion for alacrity at the moment. By 19:58 I figure it's worth the 40 euro fee as long as we catch our train, and I run back to the platform where I left Alex. Right as I run up the stairs, the train pulls up, and we quickly grab our bags and hop on. I explain I didn't manage to get reservations, but Alex, noticing the lack of humanity aboard said train, doesn't think it's going to be a problem.
Now we're on the train. Insert sigh of relief here. There aren't many feelings better than catching the train you needed when you thought you surely wouldn't make it. We've experienced this feeling multiple times during our travels. As Christian would say, we're "time optimists."
I drop my stuff in our seats and run off to find a bathroom, glad we can finally relax from this minor catastrophe of ending up in the unfamiliar small towns of Italy.
But as I'm walking around the train, I'm recognizing that for a "reservation compulsory" train, it's rather dingy. My first opinion is only confirmed when I try the first bathroom, the lock is broken, and I nearly walk in on someone doing their business.
"Mi dispiace."
Second bathroom is unoccupied, but the toilet is missing a seat cover, toilet paper, paper towels, and soap. What it does have is a faucet that works, but only for 2.7 seconds, and all that time it merely sputters out. Beautiful.
I return to my seat, to find my observations confirmed: the dingy-ness of this train does not match up to the typical train that requires a reservation. Why? When I return to my seat, Alex looks at me and exclaims, "I think we're on the wrong train."
You're kidding me.
Turns out we hopped the train on platform 2, and we should have been on platform 3, the one directly behind the wrong one we took. (There are downsides to the flexibility a rail pass provides.)
So now we discover, after my broken Italian words helps me ascertain information from the only other person on the train, that we're bound for Genova/Genoa. We will be arriving there at 21:30.
At this point there's no hope in making it to Roma tonight, as we're only getting further away, and the train system is nearly completion for the day. Fortunately, and for this I'm quite thankful, the city towards which we are headed is in our guidebook, and I am able to call and reserve us a room so we have a place to sleep that night. What awaits us is a very nice bed upon which to sleep, with breakfast included in the price, and the most cheerful and welcoming Italian concierge we've ever met.
On the plus side, I am thankful for guidebooks, our pay-as-you-go-phones, and a God that provides. Not to mention, who knew one could get access to your email, Facebook, and bank account from the Kindle experimental basic web feature? Nifty.
But just because we're learning a new language doesn't mean we always win when it comes to speaking this language.
Most of you know this, but I'm going to state it anyway. Alex and I, we're Texans. Not just any Texans either, we're from the DFW/Houston/Austin areas. Those are the places Alex and I have spent the most time while living in the Lone Star State. Those of you familiar with said cities and our state are familiar with the lack of a public transportation system that could legitimately rival Europe's.
Just when we thought we'd really conquered the train system in Europe, this occurred:
16:37 we're supposed to leave from Florence to Pisa. Italian trains are notorious for running on their own schedule, and true to form, our train pulls away from the station at 16:57. Given this delay, I mentally factor in an extra 20 minutes until we're supposed to arrive at our destination. The train to Pisa is roughly an hour.five long. We didn't sleep the healthy 8-9 hours the night before, so on the train Alex dozes off. He usually seems to count on me to be on top of the game when we're on the train and he's tired, and I don't mind. But after being on trains for 2 months on a regular basis, we've caught on to when we can relax and when we need to keep alert. This train on the schedule appears to be ending in Pisa, and that kind of stop is nearly impossible to miss. So while I never doze off on the train, I definitely nod off once or twice. And at one point, I start to think "we should have made it to Pisa by now." But as I'm aware of the reputation of Italy trains, I'm not concerned. Although...it's never served me poorly to ask for directions, so I walk up to an old woman with kind eyes, and ask her how far to Pisa.
"Pisa?"
"Si."
(Points over her shoulder). "Back. We...already pass. You miss."
"Oh."
Honestly, I'm not concerned, or really jilted. It's just one of those moments where I realize, what the heck are you going to do?
So I return to my seat and inform Alex. He responds with the same composed demeanor. I mean honestly, what are you going to do at this point? So we at first consider getting off at the next big stop. But after one smaller stop, we begin to think it could be quite a while before we get to the next major station. So we get off at the next stop, anticipating a train will come through heading in the opposite direction to take us back from whence we came.
The lady with kind eyes gets off at the same random stop we chose: S. Stefano Magra. (Actually, it's a beautiful place, definitely not a bad place to get stranded.) The lady continues in her kindness by asking again, "You go to Pisa, no?" We nod, and then explain we'd like to get there or to Rome. She proceeds to explain to us that this isn't a major station, and we can't get to Rome from here. But we can get back to Pisa, or carry on to La Spezia. She runs off to check the schedule. (This should be known - we're under a bit of a time crunch. From Pisa, trains don't run all night to Rome, and we're currently running the risk of missing the last train of the day. This fact is in the back of our minds the entire time.) Turns out there's a rain leaving within the hour that gets back to Pisa, but it doesn't arrive until roughly 15 minutes past the last train to Rome. The reason we're so keen on getting straight to Rome tonight is this: we have a Couchsurfing host there awaiting us, and not only would we prefer not to pay for accomodations if we already have them lined up, but we're anxious to get to Rome, meet up with Allison, and explore.)
So we hope the next train to La Spezia at 19:28. Arriving at La Spezia Centrale at 19:46, we have roughly 14 minutes to catch the train to Rome, the last train of the evening. But, it requires a reservation, and we've arrived a few minutes late. So I drop my stuff down with Alex at the platform, and race off to secure a reservation for us. (If you don't make a reservation for a train that requires one, you can incur a 40 euro fee, if not more.) But not only am I running short on time, but I really have to pee, don't have any time to do so, and while a nice Nigerian let me go in front of him in my angst and rush, the two Chinese girls at the counter in front of me did not share my passion for alacrity at the moment. By 19:58 I figure it's worth the 40 euro fee as long as we catch our train, and I run back to the platform where I left Alex. Right as I run up the stairs, the train pulls up, and we quickly grab our bags and hop on. I explain I didn't manage to get reservations, but Alex, noticing the lack of humanity aboard said train, doesn't think it's going to be a problem.
Now we're on the train. Insert sigh of relief here. There aren't many feelings better than catching the train you needed when you thought you surely wouldn't make it. We've experienced this feeling multiple times during our travels. As Christian would say, we're "time optimists."
I drop my stuff in our seats and run off to find a bathroom, glad we can finally relax from this minor catastrophe of ending up in the unfamiliar small towns of Italy.
But as I'm walking around the train, I'm recognizing that for a "reservation compulsory" train, it's rather dingy. My first opinion is only confirmed when I try the first bathroom, the lock is broken, and I nearly walk in on someone doing their business.
"Mi dispiace."
Second bathroom is unoccupied, but the toilet is missing a seat cover, toilet paper, paper towels, and soap. What it does have is a faucet that works, but only for 2.7 seconds, and all that time it merely sputters out. Beautiful.
I return to my seat, to find my observations confirmed: the dingy-ness of this train does not match up to the typical train that requires a reservation. Why? When I return to my seat, Alex looks at me and exclaims, "I think we're on the wrong train."
You're kidding me.
Turns out we hopped the train on platform 2, and we should have been on platform 3, the one directly behind the wrong one we took. (There are downsides to the flexibility a rail pass provides.)
So now we discover, after my broken Italian words helps me ascertain information from the only other person on the train, that we're bound for Genova/Genoa. We will be arriving there at 21:30.
At this point there's no hope in making it to Roma tonight, as we're only getting further away, and the train system is nearly completion for the day. Fortunately, and for this I'm quite thankful, the city towards which we are headed is in our guidebook, and I am able to call and reserve us a room so we have a place to sleep that night. What awaits us is a very nice bed upon which to sleep, with breakfast included in the price, and the most cheerful and welcoming Italian concierge we've ever met.
On the plus side, I am thankful for guidebooks, our pay-as-you-go-phones, and a God that provides. Not to mention, who knew one could get access to your email, Facebook, and bank account from the Kindle experimental basic web feature? Nifty.
“A good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” – Lao Tzu
"Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travellers don’t know where they’re going.” – Paul Theroux
"Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travellers don’t know where they’re going.” – Paul Theroux
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