Me encantan los domingos. Siempre para mi los domingos seran el sonido de hojas bajo pasos lentos, porque en los domingos los hombres con sus escobas y recogedores dejan que esas gemas de otoño tengan un dia de descanso. En los domingos camino con lentitud, porque los destinos de los domingos siempre me esperan y el sol parece fundirle la hora, y porque a veces mi destino es sencillamente andar.
Tambien me encantan los jueves. Los profesores de ese dia conocen la belleza de lo inutil, y despues, con una manzana saltando de mano a mano, camino en una direccion sin ruta especifica. Los perros me invitan a jugar en los parques, o el sol me invita a bañar en su calor, flotando encima de un mar de hojas verdes y suaves. En los jueves recuerdo, cada semana, ver a las caras viandantes, y siempre busco las hojas de domingos que se esconden en una esquina olorosa o en frente del edificio azul. Los jueves son preñados de posibilidad susurrando detras de un sol poniendo.
Apr 27, 2009
Apr 22, 2009
Pine Trees
Dear God,
Thank you for listening to my prayers, even when I forget to address them to you. Also, thank you for being wise even in my stupidity. I think you're great.
See you soon,
Catie
Last friday Molly and I had made plans to visit Pablo Neruda's other house that's here in Valpo, but the night before our friend Francisco invited us to an outing in the country, so we eagerly ditched our plans for city-ing in exchange for wide open spaces, beach, pine trees, and bonding time with this Francisco character, who we've come to realize lately is a really awesome guy and a great friend. As tends to be the case with chileans, we didn't really know what we were doing, but we hopped in the car and scanned the radio for some classic rock ballads to belt out our open windows as we kicked the city dust and grime off our heels. On the other side of a tunnel (that was too lengthy to hold your breath all the way through) we found ourselves immediately in the midst of nature-y goodness and pine trees. did i just say pine trees? yes, that's right. Just like east Texas. We zig-zagged down the side of a sheer cliff into the sleepy town of Laguna Verde, then bumped along the red dirt road leading to a cabin that Francisco's family has. My senses were overwhelmed with reminders of home -- the way the sunlight bounces off of the golden coating of red dirt on everything, the smell of fallen pine needles, the taste of clean air mixed with warm sunshine, even the smell of cow poop contributed its bit to the sensation.
The cabana looks out onto a vast valley of hills upon hills of pine trees pouring down into a skinny puddle after which Laguna Verde is named, and not too far out to the west you can see the ocean -- that is, the mysterious glow of ocean mist that one can see of the ocean from a distance. After the short tour of the cabana and a few necessary photo-opps, we hopped back in the car for the next destination.
Next thing we knew we were in some sort of "educational farm"(?) so we walked around and hung out with some bunnies, bigs, donkeys, and turkeys. it was a good time.
Finally we parked the car on a cliff, got out our things, and headed down the rocky slope to the beach. The pebbly sand massaged my feet and in between my toes as we explored the rocky crevices, played a table-less version of ping pong, took silly pictures, and dozed in the solar radiation. The frigid ocean water tickled our toes and sent us running and giggling, then we enjoyed a truly delicious picnic of ham'n'cheese sammiches.
Molly got a brief driving lesson in Francisco's manual 4x4, which was entertaining if not productive. We drove a little ways further to a big cliff with a light tower where the ocean wind was enough to knock us off our feet. Francisco even brought us coffee and sweets to snack on the the setting sunlight. Standing on the jagged, rocky cliff with my arms spread wide, I felt like I was standing on the edge of the earth. The surreal blue ocean waves faded slowly into tangible light that hid the horizon, giving the impression that perhaps Heaven's gates were just a bit further. Molly reminded us of Lewis's beautiful imagery in one of the Chronicles of Narnia, where the children are sailing on an ocean of light, where lillies grow up from the invisible depths to dance on the brilliant surface.
Anyhow, we headed back as the sun was disappearing into this brilliant white endlessness, sighing contentedly at our decision to ditch our previous plans.
Saturday was the big Despedida de David before his departure for NY on tuesday, so Molly and I headed over to his house early to have a quick once with him and his sister and cousins before everyone arrived. Mostly, Molly and I feel awkward at large gatherings of people, especially when they're in Latin America. We didn't really know most of the people there, so we sat awkwardly to ourselves hoping that our pina coladas might loosen our tongues enough to not feel awkward. It seems that everyone has to have at least one instance of drinking too much in order to realize that they don't want to do it again (or perhaps that they do?), and I'm just glad that I was in the house of a friend where I could be brought safely to a bed with Molly to sleep it off and not worry about being around non-trustworthy people. Our friends Marco and Francisco made sure we didn't make fools of ourselves, and our friend Karenth brought us in to her bedroom to sleep in her bed when it was time for us to retire. And hopefully it will never happen again.
David is a very good friend and we were sad to see him off (his despedida extended into monday and tuesday in the afternoons), but now he's in New York getting settled in before starting graphic design school. We will miss him dearly, but, if all goes well, Molly and I will be visiting him within a year.
Wednesday I had a test in my literature class, which was more difficult than anything academic I have ever done before. The night before my host mom had her prayer meeting here at the apartment, and they prayed for me in my test. It had been so long since someone prayed directly and intentionally for me, and I was amazed at how much more relaxed it made me feel. After that I was able to spend 5 solid hours studying the material before going to bed. The test was 4 essay questions (all in spanish, mind you), over material that I only vaguely understood. I can only hope that my professor will have mercy on my little extranjera brain and not completely fail me.
So, there's the past week. Uncensored (and unedited) for your reading enjoyment. But, you know, my writing is not free. It costs you ONE COMMENT. Now pay up, friend!
Thank you for listening to my prayers, even when I forget to address them to you. Also, thank you for being wise even in my stupidity. I think you're great.
See you soon,
Catie
Last friday Molly and I had made plans to visit Pablo Neruda's other house that's here in Valpo, but the night before our friend Francisco invited us to an outing in the country, so we eagerly ditched our plans for city-ing in exchange for wide open spaces, beach, pine trees, and bonding time with this Francisco character, who we've come to realize lately is a really awesome guy and a great friend. As tends to be the case with chileans, we didn't really know what we were doing, but we hopped in the car and scanned the radio for some classic rock ballads to belt out our open windows as we kicked the city dust and grime off our heels. On the other side of a tunnel (that was too lengthy to hold your breath all the way through) we found ourselves immediately in the midst of nature-y goodness and pine trees. did i just say pine trees? yes, that's right. Just like east Texas. We zig-zagged down the side of a sheer cliff into the sleepy town of Laguna Verde, then bumped along the red dirt road leading to a cabin that Francisco's family has. My senses were overwhelmed with reminders of home -- the way the sunlight bounces off of the golden coating of red dirt on everything, the smell of fallen pine needles, the taste of clean air mixed with warm sunshine, even the smell of cow poop contributed its bit to the sensation.
The cabana looks out onto a vast valley of hills upon hills of pine trees pouring down into a skinny puddle after which Laguna Verde is named, and not too far out to the west you can see the ocean -- that is, the mysterious glow of ocean mist that one can see of the ocean from a distance. After the short tour of the cabana and a few necessary photo-opps, we hopped back in the car for the next destination.
Next thing we knew we were in some sort of "educational farm"(?) so we walked around and hung out with some bunnies, bigs, donkeys, and turkeys. it was a good time.
Finally we parked the car on a cliff, got out our things, and headed down the rocky slope to the beach. The pebbly sand massaged my feet and in between my toes as we explored the rocky crevices, played a table-less version of ping pong, took silly pictures, and dozed in the solar radiation. The frigid ocean water tickled our toes and sent us running and giggling, then we enjoyed a truly delicious picnic of ham'n'cheese sammiches.
Molly got a brief driving lesson in Francisco's manual 4x4, which was entertaining if not productive. We drove a little ways further to a big cliff with a light tower where the ocean wind was enough to knock us off our feet. Francisco even brought us coffee and sweets to snack on the the setting sunlight. Standing on the jagged, rocky cliff with my arms spread wide, I felt like I was standing on the edge of the earth. The surreal blue ocean waves faded slowly into tangible light that hid the horizon, giving the impression that perhaps Heaven's gates were just a bit further. Molly reminded us of Lewis's beautiful imagery in one of the Chronicles of Narnia, where the children are sailing on an ocean of light, where lillies grow up from the invisible depths to dance on the brilliant surface.
Anyhow, we headed back as the sun was disappearing into this brilliant white endlessness, sighing contentedly at our decision to ditch our previous plans.
Saturday was the big Despedida de David before his departure for NY on tuesday, so Molly and I headed over to his house early to have a quick once with him and his sister and cousins before everyone arrived. Mostly, Molly and I feel awkward at large gatherings of people, especially when they're in Latin America. We didn't really know most of the people there, so we sat awkwardly to ourselves hoping that our pina coladas might loosen our tongues enough to not feel awkward. It seems that everyone has to have at least one instance of drinking too much in order to realize that they don't want to do it again (or perhaps that they do?), and I'm just glad that I was in the house of a friend where I could be brought safely to a bed with Molly to sleep it off and not worry about being around non-trustworthy people. Our friends Marco and Francisco made sure we didn't make fools of ourselves, and our friend Karenth brought us in to her bedroom to sleep in her bed when it was time for us to retire. And hopefully it will never happen again.
David is a very good friend and we were sad to see him off (his despedida extended into monday and tuesday in the afternoons), but now he's in New York getting settled in before starting graphic design school. We will miss him dearly, but, if all goes well, Molly and I will be visiting him within a year.
Wednesday I had a test in my literature class, which was more difficult than anything academic I have ever done before. The night before my host mom had her prayer meeting here at the apartment, and they prayed for me in my test. It had been so long since someone prayed directly and intentionally for me, and I was amazed at how much more relaxed it made me feel. After that I was able to spend 5 solid hours studying the material before going to bed. The test was 4 essay questions (all in spanish, mind you), over material that I only vaguely understood. I can only hope that my professor will have mercy on my little extranjera brain and not completely fail me.
So, there's the past week. Uncensored (and unedited) for your reading enjoyment. But, you know, my writing is not free. It costs you ONE COMMENT. Now pay up, friend!
Apr 17, 2009
babies, busses, and blisters
time flies between blogs, and crawls when i sit down to spell out events, emotions, and images in these poor excuses for words. first i'll go for the concrete stuff.
last thursday i went with my host mom to her daughter's house in Valpo for once and to meet her neighbor's new born baby. her house is a perfect example of valparaiso quirkiness -- built into the side of the same cerro (hill) as one of Pablo Neruda's houses, its precarious concrete walkway leads to a worn old door snuggled between tin walls. Inside the living room boasts creaky wood floors and high ceilings, the kitchen shares a concrete wall (and some dirt that periodically creeps in through the cracks) with the steep street outside. the stairwell to the second floor is vague as to whether it is indoors or out, and in the dark humid air you almost have to smell your way up the steep stairs to the upstairs bedrooms. it is small and without heating or cooling, but it is rich in character. i appreciate so deeply being reminded here how little we can actually get by on, and how extravagant i often allow myself to believe my "needs" to be.
her neighbors were equally charming, with their beaming, new-mom-and-dad smiles lighting up the whole room. they are both musicians, and the dad earns his living by playing his guitar and singing on the micros (minibusses) every day. the mom has a permenant smile on her face and an optimism that is almost as tangible as her sleek, black hair. we drank deeply on conversation and REAL coffee (not nescafe) until the night chill let us know it was time to part ways. in valparaiso at night the city lights immitate the stars in the upside-down dome of the sprawling cerros, twinkling with an orangey glow that floats on the allusive niebla.
friday i woke up entirely too early to catch a bus to santiago with nearly the entire congregation of my host mom's church (there were 18 people) for a country-wide Familia con Proposito easter celebration. we were corralled into the 3rd floor room by hugs and besitos, and promptly we began what would be about an hour and a half of solid praise music. it was sweet to remember what it feels like to be lifted up in collective song to be snuggled up close to our Lord's bosom. there was also a really long sermon, which i had a really hard time paying full attention to because i was falling asleep -- and because it was a lot of spanish coming at me very fast. later we broke up into smaller groups to pray for the country, its leaders, its people, and its churches. as glad as i was to be in christian community and as much as it was so refreshing in so many ways, i was also weirded out by many aspects of it, as has been the case lately with religion in general. i couldn't tell when they were speaking in tongues or just speaking really fast spanish, and when a woman started telling us to pray for the homosexuals -- 'Because we love them, we love everybody, but pray that their ways will be corrected' -- and i cringed. my stomach did a few flips, and i closed my ears to lift up a prayer for our poor human interpretation of Love, of right and wrong, and of morality in general. i wanted to leave the room, but i was glued to my seat by discomfort and unpreparedness. in my two years of liberal sheltering at st. eds i sometimes forget that other ways of thinking exist.
anyhow, besides this discomfort and a general sense that religion is a very strange thing and most definitely not the only way to reach out to God, the day was very enjoyable. the people were exceedingly nice, and i was able to relax in pleasant conversation with a girl who had just gotten back from studying english in Florida for 3 months.
saturday molly and i slept in, and the afternoon eagerly fled these city streets for some much-needed soul rejuvenation in nature. we left vina significantly later than we had planned, and ended up arriving at the park after it had already closed, but we wandered into the camping area anyhow and ended up sharing the last spot with another couple that had wandered in after hours. we lazily conversed over wine and sandwiches, and soon discovered a shared enthusiams for the Beatles -- which is hard to come by here in Chile. Molly and I excused ourselves to go see a break in the trees so we could see the stars. Stargazing is my therapy of choice; it reminds me to stop, to feel small, but at the same time big. And, as always, Orion was there waiting for us. We snuggled close in our one-man tent against the night's chill, and in the morning quickly packed up our things and headed up the mountain. actually, it's called a cerro, or hill, but in our own defense we have decided to refer to el cerro de La Campana as a mountain. it is large and steep, and i really feel that a 4 1/2 hour ascent deems it worthy of the title Mountain. after the first hour we were asking ourselves why we keep thinking that climbing up steep things is a good idea, at hour two the nearing peak gave us a small spark of hope, at hour 3 i was ready to give up, and at hour 4 we were mere meters from the peak. ultimately we didn't make it to the actual top because we had to turn back in time to get out backpacks from the ranger station before it closed, but the view was equally spectacular and we ate it up eagerly along with our sandwiches of questionable meat product and delicious cheese. after the 3 hour descent i was ready to fall over and sleep for a month straight, but instead we wandered down the dirt road until we found our bus and rested for the two hour ride home.
classes have been going pretty well, although overwhelming. i'm really frustrated that i can't fully understand everything we talk about in my literature class, because it is really interesting. during lecture i definitely catch the gist of what is said, but it's not quite to the level of perfect comprehension and certainly not enough so to be able to participate in discussion. there is an impossible amount of reading for that class, but i think i've come to terms with the fact that i will not be able to actually read all of it, so i'm feeling less stressed out. Italian is by far my favorite class, even though my head feels like it wants to explode after every class with foreign language overload. i had a test in Theory of Translation this week, and it was awful. it will be a miriacle if i passed. we've been talking about Kafka in my art class, and it's fantastic. except, i couldn't help but ache for Kafka as a person after reading all of his dark, depressing short stories about how awful society is and about the lies we live in. it is fantastic literature, but i wonder if he ever knew joy in his life. did he see things that were beautiful, too? what did he have to hope for?
our dear friend David is leaving for New York to study graphic design in 4 days, so this week we are squeezing in as much hanging out as possible. on tuesday we had a taco feast at our friend Francisco's house -- Francisco used to be a chef. it was delicious, and we topped it off by watching Into the Wild (which brought me to tears and touched the raw part on my soul that recently exploded before my last entry....) , listening to "El Curanto", eating freshly made kuchen, and singing/dancing to michael jackson music videos. it was the perfect way to spend the day, and on the bus ride back home that night molly and i thanked God for hearing our prayers for real friends and for hanging out time that isn't necessarily "going out".
my soul is learning and growing every day, which hurts sometimes, and other times feels really good. it's learning how to approach every day as a new adventure and also what God's hope actually means. mostly it's very thankful, and it's gobbling up that fresh new that that i've been breathing in.
now, it's your turn.
COMMENT!!!!!
last thursday i went with my host mom to her daughter's house in Valpo for once and to meet her neighbor's new born baby. her house is a perfect example of valparaiso quirkiness -- built into the side of the same cerro (hill) as one of Pablo Neruda's houses, its precarious concrete walkway leads to a worn old door snuggled between tin walls. Inside the living room boasts creaky wood floors and high ceilings, the kitchen shares a concrete wall (and some dirt that periodically creeps in through the cracks) with the steep street outside. the stairwell to the second floor is vague as to whether it is indoors or out, and in the dark humid air you almost have to smell your way up the steep stairs to the upstairs bedrooms. it is small and without heating or cooling, but it is rich in character. i appreciate so deeply being reminded here how little we can actually get by on, and how extravagant i often allow myself to believe my "needs" to be.
her neighbors were equally charming, with their beaming, new-mom-and-dad smiles lighting up the whole room. they are both musicians, and the dad earns his living by playing his guitar and singing on the micros (minibusses) every day. the mom has a permenant smile on her face and an optimism that is almost as tangible as her sleek, black hair. we drank deeply on conversation and REAL coffee (not nescafe) until the night chill let us know it was time to part ways. in valparaiso at night the city lights immitate the stars in the upside-down dome of the sprawling cerros, twinkling with an orangey glow that floats on the allusive niebla.
friday i woke up entirely too early to catch a bus to santiago with nearly the entire congregation of my host mom's church (there were 18 people) for a country-wide Familia con Proposito easter celebration. we were corralled into the 3rd floor room by hugs and besitos, and promptly we began what would be about an hour and a half of solid praise music. it was sweet to remember what it feels like to be lifted up in collective song to be snuggled up close to our Lord's bosom. there was also a really long sermon, which i had a really hard time paying full attention to because i was falling asleep -- and because it was a lot of spanish coming at me very fast. later we broke up into smaller groups to pray for the country, its leaders, its people, and its churches. as glad as i was to be in christian community and as much as it was so refreshing in so many ways, i was also weirded out by many aspects of it, as has been the case lately with religion in general. i couldn't tell when they were speaking in tongues or just speaking really fast spanish, and when a woman started telling us to pray for the homosexuals -- 'Because we love them, we love everybody, but pray that their ways will be corrected' -- and i cringed. my stomach did a few flips, and i closed my ears to lift up a prayer for our poor human interpretation of Love, of right and wrong, and of morality in general. i wanted to leave the room, but i was glued to my seat by discomfort and unpreparedness. in my two years of liberal sheltering at st. eds i sometimes forget that other ways of thinking exist.
anyhow, besides this discomfort and a general sense that religion is a very strange thing and most definitely not the only way to reach out to God, the day was very enjoyable. the people were exceedingly nice, and i was able to relax in pleasant conversation with a girl who had just gotten back from studying english in Florida for 3 months.
saturday molly and i slept in, and the afternoon eagerly fled these city streets for some much-needed soul rejuvenation in nature. we left vina significantly later than we had planned, and ended up arriving at the park after it had already closed, but we wandered into the camping area anyhow and ended up sharing the last spot with another couple that had wandered in after hours. we lazily conversed over wine and sandwiches, and soon discovered a shared enthusiams for the Beatles -- which is hard to come by here in Chile. Molly and I excused ourselves to go see a break in the trees so we could see the stars. Stargazing is my therapy of choice; it reminds me to stop, to feel small, but at the same time big. And, as always, Orion was there waiting for us. We snuggled close in our one-man tent against the night's chill, and in the morning quickly packed up our things and headed up the mountain. actually, it's called a cerro, or hill, but in our own defense we have decided to refer to el cerro de La Campana as a mountain. it is large and steep, and i really feel that a 4 1/2 hour ascent deems it worthy of the title Mountain. after the first hour we were asking ourselves why we keep thinking that climbing up steep things is a good idea, at hour two the nearing peak gave us a small spark of hope, at hour 3 i was ready to give up, and at hour 4 we were mere meters from the peak. ultimately we didn't make it to the actual top because we had to turn back in time to get out backpacks from the ranger station before it closed, but the view was equally spectacular and we ate it up eagerly along with our sandwiches of questionable meat product and delicious cheese. after the 3 hour descent i was ready to fall over and sleep for a month straight, but instead we wandered down the dirt road until we found our bus and rested for the two hour ride home.
classes have been going pretty well, although overwhelming. i'm really frustrated that i can't fully understand everything we talk about in my literature class, because it is really interesting. during lecture i definitely catch the gist of what is said, but it's not quite to the level of perfect comprehension and certainly not enough so to be able to participate in discussion. there is an impossible amount of reading for that class, but i think i've come to terms with the fact that i will not be able to actually read all of it, so i'm feeling less stressed out. Italian is by far my favorite class, even though my head feels like it wants to explode after every class with foreign language overload. i had a test in Theory of Translation this week, and it was awful. it will be a miriacle if i passed. we've been talking about Kafka in my art class, and it's fantastic. except, i couldn't help but ache for Kafka as a person after reading all of his dark, depressing short stories about how awful society is and about the lies we live in. it is fantastic literature, but i wonder if he ever knew joy in his life. did he see things that were beautiful, too? what did he have to hope for?
our dear friend David is leaving for New York to study graphic design in 4 days, so this week we are squeezing in as much hanging out as possible. on tuesday we had a taco feast at our friend Francisco's house -- Francisco used to be a chef. it was delicious, and we topped it off by watching Into the Wild (which brought me to tears and touched the raw part on my soul that recently exploded before my last entry....) , listening to "El Curanto", eating freshly made kuchen, and singing/dancing to michael jackson music videos. it was the perfect way to spend the day, and on the bus ride back home that night molly and i thanked God for hearing our prayers for real friends and for hanging out time that isn't necessarily "going out".
my soul is learning and growing every day, which hurts sometimes, and other times feels really good. it's learning how to approach every day as a new adventure and also what God's hope actually means. mostly it's very thankful, and it's gobbling up that fresh new that that i've been breathing in.
now, it's your turn.
COMMENT!!!!!
Apr 5, 2009
an explosion of sorts
the more i travel, the more i learn about the world. the more i learn about the world, the more i want to rid myself of that numbing illness called normalcy, which would have me sit in a pew surrounded by my own excrements rather than breathing the fresh air of the world. i want the dirt of all seven continents to stain the creases in the bottoms of my feet, the faces of the people who i will never meet in the walls of a church (you know, those buildings that cost more than some people will make working every day their whole lives) or in the blank glow of the internet -- i want these faces to decorate the walls of my memory and paint the outlines of my ideas. i want to act, to stop pretending. i want to pave my own path and laugh at forms and plans and economic aspirations and personal gain. i want to live off of other people's hospitality so that i will one day be able to offer the same to restless travelers.
these past several days there has been very little stopping me from throwing everything i own that is of value into the ocean and leaving the university with all its plans and paperwork and walls in the dust. and yet, at the same time, so much is stopping me. my fears: there are many. uncertainty: everywhere. security: it's a lie, but i'm so attached to it. i am so afraid of waking up one day many years from now only to realize that my hopes and dreams have been reduced to childhood naivity that i choose to forget.
i realized that the reason i was feeling so down about being here is because of this curse of normalcy -- the stagnant waters around me were making me nauseous and i forgot the power of the ocean, of movement. but then i remembered -- or rather, was reminded -- of who i am by the one who made me. i am made for great things, for adventure, for big love. and this love is fluid, always moving without beginning or end.
it all started with a tiny spark of inspiration that told me i wanted to go to bolivia. why bolivia? i didn't know, but i began reseraching. with 60% of the population currently living in poverty, this country has struggled under dictators, human rights infringements, and all manner of cruelty for as long as the history books can remeber. the most current president is the first to be of indiegnous descent, despite the fact that over half the population is indigenous, and another 30% is meztizo. a large portion of the population speaks the native quechua language, although most speak at least some spanish. the more i read about this country and about some of the nonprofits established there that are fighting for the rights of impoverished communities and family farms, the more confused i became as to why i have been walking on the paved road where the thorny paths are ever so conveniently hidden from view. even as i partake in this chilean adventure that started two months ago, i am so protected. everything is laid out before me, and it's all egocentric. my classes, my host family, my going out experience, my safety, my cultural experience, my my my... the same thing can happen regardless of what country i am in, and it is not merely a desire to go to bolivia that haunts me. i'm looking out again, and seeing the adventure of giving and of loving. i am so antsy to participate! i don't want to prepare any more, i want to DO. i want to cast off "plans" (they never follow through anyhow) and security, and DO. all these emotions and desires and realizations came like a flood, pinning me up against the compassionate shoulder of my best friend until all my tears had been squeezed out (mixed in with some snot, of course) and at last i took the first breath of fresh air that i've tasted for quite some time.
i don't have a solution, but that's not the point. i dont know why i'm still here -- whether it's because the Lord has more growth planned before tossing me out into the wild or because i am tethered by my own fears -- or where i am to go next. but i do have fresh air in my lungs, which gives me hope that i have not forgotten and have not been forgotten. and i am more certain than ever that this passion that sometimes explodes in various forms (tears, dancing, laughter, hugs...) is from the Lord and therefore will NOT waste away to nothing.
i am made for great things.
there are countless adventures not yet written.
so for now i'm breathing in deep. being thankful. watching for what's next.
these past several days there has been very little stopping me from throwing everything i own that is of value into the ocean and leaving the university with all its plans and paperwork and walls in the dust. and yet, at the same time, so much is stopping me. my fears: there are many. uncertainty: everywhere. security: it's a lie, but i'm so attached to it. i am so afraid of waking up one day many years from now only to realize that my hopes and dreams have been reduced to childhood naivity that i choose to forget.
i realized that the reason i was feeling so down about being here is because of this curse of normalcy -- the stagnant waters around me were making me nauseous and i forgot the power of the ocean, of movement. but then i remembered -- or rather, was reminded -- of who i am by the one who made me. i am made for great things, for adventure, for big love. and this love is fluid, always moving without beginning or end.
it all started with a tiny spark of inspiration that told me i wanted to go to bolivia. why bolivia? i didn't know, but i began reseraching. with 60% of the population currently living in poverty, this country has struggled under dictators, human rights infringements, and all manner of cruelty for as long as the history books can remeber. the most current president is the first to be of indiegnous descent, despite the fact that over half the population is indigenous, and another 30% is meztizo. a large portion of the population speaks the native quechua language, although most speak at least some spanish. the more i read about this country and about some of the nonprofits established there that are fighting for the rights of impoverished communities and family farms, the more confused i became as to why i have been walking on the paved road where the thorny paths are ever so conveniently hidden from view. even as i partake in this chilean adventure that started two months ago, i am so protected. everything is laid out before me, and it's all egocentric. my classes, my host family, my going out experience, my safety, my cultural experience, my my my... the same thing can happen regardless of what country i am in, and it is not merely a desire to go to bolivia that haunts me. i'm looking out again, and seeing the adventure of giving and of loving. i am so antsy to participate! i don't want to prepare any more, i want to DO. i want to cast off "plans" (they never follow through anyhow) and security, and DO. all these emotions and desires and realizations came like a flood, pinning me up against the compassionate shoulder of my best friend until all my tears had been squeezed out (mixed in with some snot, of course) and at last i took the first breath of fresh air that i've tasted for quite some time.
i don't have a solution, but that's not the point. i dont know why i'm still here -- whether it's because the Lord has more growth planned before tossing me out into the wild or because i am tethered by my own fears -- or where i am to go next. but i do have fresh air in my lungs, which gives me hope that i have not forgotten and have not been forgotten. and i am more certain than ever that this passion that sometimes explodes in various forms (tears, dancing, laughter, hugs...) is from the Lord and therefore will NOT waste away to nothing.
i am made for great things.
there are countless adventures not yet written.
so for now i'm breathing in deep. being thankful. watching for what's next.
Apr 1, 2009
and now for the other side of the hill...
Before traveling abroad, they go to great lengths to warn you about the inevitable crash-and-burn stage that follows the first month or so (the honeymoon period) abroad. I think it´s happening now, at least to some degree. I am frustrated by the lack of improvement in my Spanish, by my inability to make freinds with people at our univeristy, at the hours I waste in my room on the computer because I can´t figure out what to do with myself and can´t pull myself together to study, at the Literature class I signed up for that I recently found out will not include anything by Marquez, Neruda, or Allende -- why even call it latinoamericano literature without these guys??? Molly and I have come off of our week of carreteando with head colds and an insatiable sleepiness, and I am equally exhausted by the effort it takes to build up new friendships, and instead simply crave my apartment in Austin where I could always rope one of the roomates into playing a game or watching a movie, or walk over to good ole 321 for some N64 or old musicals. This morning I got up freakishly early to wait in line outside the Registro Civil to get my official chilean ID. Good news - chileans are very friendly and within a few minutes I was chatting it up with the people on either side of me in line. Bad news - my spanish sucks. I´m so tired of every other word that comes out of my mouth being "huh?" or "no entiendo". After four years of studying it, a month and a half in Spain, and two months now in Chile shouldn´t I speak better than that by now??? Chances are, it´s actually better than I realize, but my devilish perfectionism is coming out to play with my emotions.
Now I have to go to the literature class class, which I think I´m going to drop because I´m a coward, and taking Gringos101 sounds a lot more attractive right now than drowning in a sea of too much reading and not enough understanding.
beh.
I promise things are better than I´m making them sound... blogger just happened to catch me in a down mood.
Now I have to go to the literature class class, which I think I´m going to drop because I´m a coward, and taking Gringos101 sounds a lot more attractive right now than drowning in a sea of too much reading and not enough understanding.
beh.
I promise things are better than I´m making them sound... blogger just happened to catch me in a down mood.
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