The rains have come.

We woke up to a true Oregon day. Gray skies spit raindrops and filtered the soft morning light. It feels cozy. It feels like home.

Here's to making it all possible.

Today is the 939th unofficial birthday of the English language. It was on September 28th, 1066 that William the Conqueror invaded the British Isles. He would soon defeat the local king and begin the blend of Norse-Saxon and French languages that have bred our beloved tongue.

"The English language is the accretion and growth of every dialect, race, and range of time, and is both the free and compacted composition of all." - Walt Whitman

Source: The Writer's Alamanac

Two short poems.

Philosophical Optometry

His eyes were made unfortunately small
Through the thick, convex lenses
That pinched and pried at photon waves.

For one, clarity.
For another, distortion.
Like any lens.

...........

There Must Be Beauty

There must be beauty
behind our clumsy,
sexually loaded game.

Slightly averted eyes
speak their own rhymes;
how we love hating love.

But for the beauty,
I would nod to the loss
and walk off this field.

Name and title, please.

Bureaucracy can be so inefficient. It begins as a legitimate effort to streamline, to provide aid and services, or to centralize. Then it seems to always become a distancing mechanism. People are forced farther away from other people. Relationship is replaced with infrastructure. It makes me sad.

This human-to-system transformation happens on many levels. I experience it to a degree among the small staff structure of my own job. We see it affect the ability of aid to get to the needy like the recent Katrina catastrophe. Now it seems to be a barrier to helping those that are being oppressed in Darfur. I just get weary.

It translates easily to the personal level. We forget that life is about relationships. Every organization, government, or family is held together by human beings that are inconsistent, emotional, reactive and limited by physical and mental capacity. Our society values titles, capital, fame, and strategic association. We have this ridiculous value system that leaves isolated humans stranded in imaginary lives with money or reputation but without self knowledge or esteem.

I don’t want to play the game. I would rather anonymously clean bathrooms for the rest of my life and be in real relationships- be truly understood - than run the world and be known only by a title, position or degree. I can at least have some control over my own relational bureaucracy.

Real life occurrences.

This has been a pretty pivotal weekend for me. On Friday I visited the campus of a local law school to check out the classes and see if this crazy I idea of mine actually holds any weight in the real world. I loved-LOVED it. I am so excited about going back to school, and it seems like it could actually happen next fall. It comes down to taking the LSAT this winter and qualifying for as much financial aid as possible.

On Saturday afternoon I attended a memorial service for John Garang, the Vice President of Sudan that was killed in a plane crash during the summer. I went with a few of the good people that I will be traveling with this fall. Portland has a small Sudanese community, and it was a privilege to be included in their service to remember such an influential leader. The room where we met was full of kids and food and smiling faces. It felt like life. Ah.

I also helped my friends paint the interior of their new condo. For some reason I always get an inexplicable amount of paint on me whenever I am handed a wet brush. It was fun to be with the people that I love, but I was really tired by the end. It was a long day.

My brother and sister-in-law are passing through town this weekend. I like the energy that comes when my family is all together in one room. I have heard that it can be overwhelming for those that are unfamiliar with our little clan, but I call it inspirational. My family taught me how to really think- to analyze and respond. I enjoy the deep and truly weird conversations that we end up in.

I put two extra blankets on my bed last night. I think I hear them calling to me. My mind has been spinning with the rash of bombings in Iraq and the recent stirrings in Gaza after our brief peace, but those thoughts will have to wait until I have rested.

A little less conversation. A little more action.

I'm trying out a new blog look for the fall. I like blue. What do you all think?

Let me know if you have trouble with the template on any particular web browser. Sometimes what looks good on my screen may have errors on yours.

More writing to come...

I am a SpaceWar champion.

I was stuck at a grade school tonight for about 45 minutes between work and more work. I didn't have anything to read, so--after owning my cell phone for two years-- I finally decided to try out the games that came loaded on it.

My high score of 16,850 points is now a permanent record of my phone gaming stage.

I just thought that someone should know...

Ask me again in six years.

There are moments when I realize how different my exploration of faith has become in the last few years. I had one of those moments today.

The conversation started about the book of Jonah. Is it written as a literal, historical record, or was it intended to be a metaphor about the relationship between God and humanity? I have no answer to the question, but I admitted that I was open to the possibility of either. This admission was troubling to some in my company, and our conversation turned from discussing Jonah specifically to applying the concept within the entire Bible and toward the meaning of Holy Scripture.

I believe that Scripture is sacred. It has been designated, set apart, and shaped toward a specific function. It is holy and purposeful; it is different than any other document ever written. It miraculously carries the weight of the divine through human expression. But I do not feel that it has to function like a textbook to prove its credibility.

I have been on the other side of the debate. I have insisted that without absolute literal consistency the entire message is put in jeopardy. I have been afraid that bending on a bit of literal interpretation here would lead to the crucial tenets of my faith being thrown out there. But I’ve relaxed a bit in my old age. I’ve come to accept that there are places in Scripture that seem to speak more clearly as a piece of carefully crafted art. In the last four hundred years—conspicuously noticable since the Enlightenment—many believers have made it absolutely necessary that all Scripture defaults to a left-brained record of purely objective events.

Now please understand, I know much of Scripture was obviously written as a fact-to-hard fact account of history and personalities. But there are some passages that undeniably employ poetic imagery and metaphor to make absolutely true statements about God and humanity. Couldn't it be that there are others that we have read incorrectly? As a student of literature, I love the way that art can speak a higher, clearer truth than a cold record of events may attempt. Christ often employed metaphors to help his hearers find themselves in a fictional account of the deepest truths.

Our Enlightened, Western minds ask for absolute certainty, for closed-ended answers. It feels safe. It promises to cover any vulnerability. But we have forgotten that truth is not limited to historical records. It can be manifested in the art of paintings, poetry, and music.

We have been taught that gray areas and the unknown only exist to be explored and explained. We are uncomfortable with the mysterious. But as a created, limited being, I must recognize that I only see the faintest shadows of reality. A certain amount is revealed through Scripture, the use of our minds, the inspiration of an active faith and the community of believers. But ultimately there is so much both within and beyond my reality that I am incapable of knowing. I must acknowledge that any quest for unshakable certainty will always be limited by my entirely liminal existence.

St. Benedict helped me through the process. It was his quote, “All truth is God’s truth,” that blew the doors off the world for me. I realized that seeking answers to difficult, intimidating questions could only draw me further into truth, thus closer to God. And it helped me be comfortable in uncertainty. If I was in religious-philosophical limbo about a question, wasn’t that somehow better than being stuck to the wrong answer?

Real life is a balance between the known and the unknown. The early Christians passed down the Apostles Creed as the most basic statement of faith for being a follower of Christ. It speaks of certainties- choices of faith. It outlines the factual importance of the death and resurrection of Jesus. It affirms eternal life. These are the black-and-white pieces of Christian faith. So many other pieces were left open for discussion!

The story of redemption works beautifully with uncertainty, with grayness. We are given immense grace and security in the midst of our thick thought processes. We are not expected to have all the answers, but we are invited to be full participants in the conversation. We have been given good, creative minds to further our fascination with a God that has no explanation, no neat ending.

Thus it concludes.

At the opening of the UN Summit this week:

"The struggle against global poverty will define our moral standing in the eyes of the future." - British Prime Minister Tony Blair

After the UN Summit closed:

"It is hard to believe that the cry for justice has fallen on such deaf ears," - Christian Aid's Charles Abugre.

Love songs and basic astronomy.

Last weekend I was at the wedding of a family friend during which they played a slide show of the couple's lives set to pop love songs.

I like love songs. I think love is worth writing music about. I've even been known to get a little misty eyed at shamelessly melodramatic lyrics. But there was one song that they played which really drove me up a wall. It had a nice premise about how God creates individuals for specific relationships, but the musical bridge presented a hurdle that I just could not jump. It went like this:

He made the sun and made the moon
to harmonize in perfect tune.
One can't move without the other;
they just have to be together.
And this is how I know it's true
that you're for me and I'm for you...

Okay- bad, bad science. Perhaps I am overreacting in light of the intended romantic idea, but come on! Every eighth grader knows that the sun is not affected by the moon's movement. And the moon, although it's orbit is slightly bent by the sun, is primarily bound to the gravity of the earth. The analogy doesn't work in any way. And a lover who does consider the sun and moon to be in some sort of mutual-celestial bond is unfortunately stuck in the Ptolemaic, geocentric age of science. That is definitely not sexy.

But am I expecting too much? Am I just overreacting to a sentimental metaphor that everyone else takes in stride? I don't know. I can only hope that I never hear a song about how "you balance me like a leech for the humours." We have to draw the line somewhere.

Big problems require big answers.

Vibrant spent time tonight praying for those around the world that are trapped in poverty. The service was part of the 30,000 Campaign- an effort led by Sojourners in anticipation of the United Nations General Assembly that will be meeting on the 14th- 16th of this month. They will review the "Millennium Development Goals" that were set in 2000 which included cutting global poverty in half by 2015. Considering the recent news that the gap between the rich and poor is widening, we are not on track.

I wanted to share the Benediction that was given at the end of our service:

May God bless you with discomfort
at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships,
so that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger
at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection,
starvation, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
and to turn their pain into joy. And may God bless you with enough foolishness
to believe that you can make a difference in this world,
so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
- from the Franciscan order

But they didn't give me a sticker.

That is Polio, Yellow Fever, and Hepatitis A. The left arm got Tetanus and Meningitis.

I have Typhoid and Malaria vaccines to take orally in the next seven weeks, and that should be it. They should let me into Uganda.

The shots were not as bad as I expected. Really, the anticipation is the worst part of it. I've never had so many needles stick me in one day, but the dread is the same whether it is one or five. Might as well be five.

And most of these vaccinations are good for the next ten years, so I won't have to go through this again for a while.

Thirty five days without food.

At least eighty prisoners detained at Guantanamo Bay are rolling into their fifth week of a hunger strike. Some reports say there may be as many as two hundred participants refusing to eat. They are demanding that the camps abide by the Geneva Convention rules for the treatment of civilian detainees. They want a guarantee of humane treatment and fair trials. These prisoners hope to attract the attention of the world to their stagnant situation, and they are willing to risk their lives for the chance.

It is difficult to imagine how it would feel to be stripped of all personal freedom except the most basic action of feeding my body. Yet there is power even in this. If detainees start dying from starvation, the world will start looking at Guantanamo again. Self-starvation is a universally unnatural occurrence, and it embodies the most frantic cries for attention. The public may begin to wonder why trials haven't been offered and basic civilian rights have continually been ignored.

Unfortunately for the prisoners, the world isn't looking for news at the moment. There is so much happening between the hurricane relief, the new Iraq constitution, and the continuing Israeli withdrawals that there isn't much space left in the headlines for this new appeal. I just hope that this saga will end in positive change, not preventable tragedy.

"The Truth is far more powerful than any weapon of mass destruction" - Mahatma Gandhi

Poverty and pop culture.

According to a BBC article today, the gap between the rich and the poor is wider in 2005 than it was in 1990. Twelve of the eighteen nations that have lost ground are in sub-Saharan Africa. While the shift is tied into the prevalence of AIDS and civil war, it is also an indication of declining effective aid to those regions.

The timeline made me think back to what was going on in 1990. Personally, I was really starting to enjoy chapter-books, and I was spending time memorizing my multiplication tables. Meanwhile the world was undergoing some major changes.

The fall of the Berlin wall in January of 1990 directly preceded the collapse of the Soviet Union in February. Nelson Mandela was freed from prison in South Africa. The Simpsons debuted. The Hubble Space Telescope was launched. The Gulf War began as Iraq invaded Kuwait. MC Hammer was topping the music charts. Cellular phones and the internet were unfamiliar technology for most individuals. The Portland Trail Blazers were a decent basketball team.

We have come a long way since 1990. Information is faster. Transportation is easier. The world is smaller. The West is richer. And yet we have managed to leave a startling segment of humanity in the dust of our developments. I can only hope that the next fifteen years will show a move toward global compassion and economic equality.

Into the woods.

I just returned from an overnight camping trip with some of my college roommates and friends. We drove up into the forest outside Trout Lake, Washington, and we set up camp in the shadow of Mount Adams. The view was fantastic, and it was very relaxing to spend some unstructured time outdoors with my friends. Although the trip was short, we managed to fit in three fires, a few card games, and several good conversations.

Nature wreaked havoc on so many this week. I needed the reminder that the delicate relationship between humankind and the earth can bring more joy than pain.

The view of the valley from our campsite.

The crew hard at work.

Lauren and Erin check out the tent.

Sarah took this picture out the window on the drive home. It is the sunset and trees blurring behind the guardrail.

It's a beautiful omlette.

My friend Jenni came over tonight to share dinner, tea and conversation. We had quite a spread if I do say so myself. She brought a brilliant eggplant, tomato and basil salad which we ate alongside some very colorful omelettes. They included home grown tomatoes, cilantro, green onions, and cheese on top of fluffy, fresh eggs.

I love preparing food for friends. There is something profound about the simple act of making a meal for someone. It is ancient, beautiful and comforting. And it is a tangible way of caring for another person. You are meeting a very basic physical need, but it requires preparation, creativity and a bit of time.

We ate and talked, and then we enjoyed the dark chocolate that Jenni, in a moment of sheer genius, had thought to bring with her.

And now I've cleaned up the kitchen, wished Jenni a pleasant weekend, put Lady Day in the CD player, and generally settled down for the evening. I am looking forward to the long weekend. I'll see some friends, see some nature, and hopefully be able to recharge for the upcoming work week. There is nothing like spending some time in the Great Northwest to remind me of how much beauty there is to be seen in our world.

♪...Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day...♪

Billie Holliday in "The Man I Love"