cell phones...

i was walking to class one day and everywhere i looked people were either texting or talking on their phones. no one was just simply walking, enjoying the scenery or being really present. granted, it was about 15 degrees and rather blustery, but obviously warm enough to use hands to text.

this got me thinking, what is the obsession we have with cell phones, with constantly needing to communicate with those who are not physically present with us. i came to two conclusions:

1) we are never satisfied with where we are at. we have to constantly electronically transplant ourselves to wherever the other person(s) is so that we don't have to be where we currently are. we can't be content unless we know exactly all of the options of where we could possibly be if we were where every person in our phone book is.

2) more true, i think we're not content with who we're with. we're always thinking there could be more, could be another person we'd rather be with, another circumstance or something. we've lost the sense of being, of being present with whomever we find ourselves around. there is some enticing addiction to imagine ourselves with someone else which i think is a terrible way to live to always be on the look out for something better.

the worst is when i see two people eating dinner, both on their phones. this technology is wonderful and brings together people all the time, but what have we lost in all of this? can we ever be simply present with people?

art

what is it about art that stirs our soul? it is something unique, it catches our attention and ties us to all sorts of people and places only imaginable. take a beautiful piece by Monet or Picasso, what were their lives like? what did a day in their shoes look like?

good art has the potential to unleash memories and stirrings within us. it taps through the surfacy thoughts into feelings and emotions that sometimes are so difficult to access. lately i have been obsessed with sabrina ward harrison. her art is more of journalling or art therapy. it is honest and allows for mistakes and oops. she journals her soul in the pages of her books and phrases on her canvases. it moves me, challenges me and makes me think of my creator. it makes me want to go feel deeply as she does and journal and tell about it.

ultimately, good art moves people to create something of their own. it is not a stand alone piece, but a movement of viewing and interacting that prompts others to do something as well. so today, go create something.

i wish i knew a mailman.

as i was running this morning, there was the cutest mailman delivering mail. he was walking through the freshly fallen snow with the cutest acrylic scarf and little messenger bag. its probably the hipster in my to think that an authentic us postal service bag is cool, but hey it is what it is.

mailmen must be the toughest people out there. they have to put up with some pretty crappy stuff. i mean there is the nasty dog that lives on smith street and the snow that never ceases in michigan. in fact, there's probably some people who put mean things in the mailbox just to spite them. sad.

but, here's to you, mail women and men. thanks for your work.

thanksgiving...

this year i have so much to be thankful for. maybe there isn't more to be thankful for, but perhaps i'm a little more aware. in church this morning (after a traditional breakfast of cinnamon rolls) our pastor talked about the importance of not just giving thanks in general but actually saying who you're giving thanks to. you're not married in general, but to a specific person and the same goes to being thankful.

so, dear God, I thank you for the numerous blessings in my life. your love and faithfulness. my family and friends. my warm (or semi-warm) house. my 97 year old great grandmother who still knit me bed socks. my body to run with. my mind to do school and work with. your people to share my blessings with.

Dayenu: that alone would have been enough. but for that alone we are grateful.

a four friends kind of day.

yesterday was a four friends kind of day.

i was walking across the blue bridge by grand valley, it was windy and a bit chilly and the leaves were blowing all over the place. i got that ache in my belly on how it used to be walking across the bridge after class to go to work on those cool, fall days. i remember walking into four friends with yellow leaves blowing in the door with me and a little bell ringing. i can still smell the familiar smell of that place and know exactly where all the cracked tiles were from hours of mopping them.

i wanted to be able to walk right into work, confident and content that i was capable and knew what i was doing. i wanted to eat a monaco sandwich, made just the way i like it and put on the old panini machine. i wanted to grab the cold milk picture and steam up some good milk and make lattes, and mochas and other warm drinks all night long. i just wanted to be in that space, with those funny people all working together to pay for school and make it in this world.

four friends has such significance for me because it was the first place that i actually got to know people who were quite different from me. i now know its a 'hipster' lifestyle that i was hanging out with but back then it was just a bunch of people who didn't shower everyday or wear make-up all the time or have the latest fashions. we were quite the bunch, playing what we wanted to listen to over the speakers, making what we wanted to drink, and giving away left over scones to whom we wanted to.

there were some crazy regulars that made that place feel like two worlds colliding. there were the business men who came in with there business partners all polished and clean, ordering the same drink and expecting you to make it that way. then there were those without a home who came to sit in a warm place for a little while, sometimes buying a drink, sometimes not. we even had one lady who we would tally hot chocolates for. she could pay them sometimes and other times not, but at the end of the day, did that matter?

so, thank you four friends. thank you for being a place that i could discover more of who i am. thank you for being offering me a skill that i have found is my passion. thank you for being a place where a bunch of college crazies could work together on coffee and life and make grand rapids a better place because of it. i miss you.

get shaky...

in australia there was a song called "let's get shaky after school" and it was played constantly wherever we went. whether we were in clubs, the mall, or a coffee shop, this song was always on the radio. i remember dancing at clubs when this song came on and a feeling akin to the feeling a middle school-er has when she skates with the boy she likes at the skating party would overcome me. i got so excited and nervous and filled with adrenaline that my friends and i would scream and shout and, well, dance.

i listened to the song the other day and almost laughed. it is really the most ridiculous thing ever and not a very high-quality song when looked at in perspective. but, like most things, it has memories attached to it. it was practically the theme song of my time in australia which means it brings places, people, and things to the present that are now completely removed from my current life. in fact, instead of breaking out in a dance when i hear it, i now want to shed many tears for all that i miss about that time of life.

it is this way about so many things in life, particularly songs. there is something about them that jog our memories and bring us back to a time when that song reigned in our lives. they connect us to times and places that are long gone or far away. its amazing, really, how our brains can process one little tune and make so much more out of it. it becomes not so much a mere tune, but a musical photograph of memories. if the eyes preserve memories in snapshots and visions, then the ears do so with sound and songs. together those two senses make up memories and visions that no words can do justice to.

so, when i say, "let's get shaky after school" and it sounds completely and utterly ridiculous, it is. for me and my friends in australia, that song meant everything. ultimately, getting shaky after school.

sixty-fourth street...

there is a road by my parent's house that i have grown up running on. it is exactly one mile from my driveway to the first stop sign and made the perfect bench mark for runs. it is mildly hilly, fairly shady, the pavement is full of cracks and patches, and there is virtually no traffic. it has an interesting way of bridging suburbia and rural areas: one side has clipped lawns and cookie cutter houses (with a target and meijer thrown it) and the other is fields and farms, all in one mile.

i cannot tell you the numerous times i have run on it: i've trained for cross country, i've thought deep, deep thoughts, i've survived winter blizzards and i've run there when the world seems too much for me, when i need to cry and be alone. it was mile one of my run and it welcomed me home when i was exhausted from the journey in between.

i know this road. it is as familiar to me as the breath i breath. i know exactly how long it takes for me to get from my house to the first corn field, to the house with the BIG dog, to the yellow stop sign warning sign, and down the hill to the actual stop sign. i know which pot holes are where and at what points i get tired. i can hear my footsteps on the pavement.

this road represents peace and continuity. so many times when life was out of control, it was here that i went. we all have places like this- places we call our own and flock to when nothing seems right, when we're feeling a bit claustrophobic of life. this place also represents god to me-it is my temple. it was on these runs that i would meet God, where i could clearly see what he was doing. it was here, along this road where i could begin to make sense of life, or at the very least, feel God breathing with me with each breath i took. he was telling me to keep going, to keep journeying, feeling and exploring, which was what i often needed most.

so, sixty-fourth street, here's to you. keep being, cracks and all, a peaceful road where people can unwind and have space. where people can experience a bridge from new to old, madness to peace, and chaos to God.