this one's for you

I suspect I know who the first to read this will be. She needn't be named :) Thanks for the encouragement to put "pen to paper" and I hope this will open up a notebook for you as well.

My recent readings include mostly scholastic works centered around communication and leadership... working towards a masters degree will do that to your bookshelf. Today I read a few chapters in our next book, one that focuses on multicultural leadership. I want to share a pretty hefty quote with you and explore where it took my mind:

"Author M. Scott Peck, after searching for the keys to human fulfillment in his classic best seller The Road Less Traveled, turned his attention to the role community plays in people's well-being. Peck found that people thirst for a sense of place and belonging. He envisioned a world in which a 'soft individualism' acknowledges our interdependence. Rugged individualism demands that we always put our best foot forward, hide our weaknesses and insecurities, and don a mask of self-sufficiency. This leaves people feeling inadequate, exhausted, and alone. Peck believed that humanity stands on the brink of annihilation if community and interdependence are not rewoven, stating 'In and through community lies the salvation of the world.'"

The author goes on to explain how cultures embodying Peck's opinion value generosity and taking care of one another. Finally, claiming that this type of orientation can heal much of the social malaise that unbridled individualism, overwork and materialism have spawn. To paraphrase Alexis de Tocqueville, balancing individualism with the collective good will reinforce the social context and fabric of community because unchecked individualism has lead to emotional isolation and fragmentation.

As I was reading on my couch this rainy morning, I caught a glimpse of something probably eight feet away on a shelf: a wooden, hand-carved "Peace on Earth" that my mother gave me for Christmas this year. That's it. I'm not sure if Mom knew what she was giving me, but it embodies my desire for this life and what I believe to be a universal desire that gets clouded. If you were to ask anyone, a random stranger, if they desire peace on Earth, don't you think they'd say yes? I do. Wouldn't you say yes?

We are lacking peace. Not only do we inflict a lack of peace on others through our actions and words daily, but look at the world news today... it's not about one person causing harm to another, it's about natural disasters striking the nations one after the other. In the last three days, a major volcanic eruption in Chile and the largest earthquake of record to hit Nepal in the past 81 years are causing chaos across the globe. We are lacking peace. These natural disasters took over the news after over a week of stories surrounding the world's views on what the Ottoman Empire did to Armenian Christians in Turkey from 1915 to 1917. We are lacking peace, but maybe effort is and can be made to restore it?

Reading Peck's words about 'rugged individualism' makes me cringe a little bit. I recognize those tendencies in myself even as I attempt to extract myself from the U.S. individualism lifestyle everyday. I have felt the negative effects of living an individualistic life and I want to leave that behind. I want us, as a people, to drop our false-perfections in order to live realistically with people who come alongside one another through love and compassion as they encourage each other towards growth. We are a people created to be in relationship. Relationship with one another, with our Creator and with creation.

Ok, let's think metaphor. Fragmentation, as mentioned by de Tocqueville in relation to what will happen if we continue to live a life of unchecked individualism, still has the same definition now as it did then: "The process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts." Who would admit to wanting that? Fragmentation happens when marriages end, when families are split, when bones are broken, the list continues... None of these events have positive connotations in our society, yet we continue to involve ourselves in lifestyles that lead to them. The change won't happen over night, but it takes individuals willing to sacrifice their individualism for community every day.

I moved back and forth with the above-mentioned reading and Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire. In his introduction, Abbey cautions readers, "Do not jump in your automobile next June and rush out to the Canyon country hoping to see some of that which I have attempted to evoke in these pages." He goes on to explain that most of what he includes in the following pages no longer exists. This book, that dives into the Canyon country and the mystery within, is a memorial to what used to be. We have the chance every day to let what used to be lie and to see what is for the first time. We must walk into that. We must appreciate and learn from what was, and let it launch us forward into what is to come. There are days that I find myself afraid of what is to come because the outlook seems so grim. There are other days where I am elated with the thought of a distant or not-so-distant future that seems hopeful. As someone striving to live as a 'little Christ' in this life, I'm called to choose hope. To pray for peace. To walk boldly into this artistic creation that has been tainted by its inhabitants and still call it 'good.'

--With all do respect, E. Abbey, I will jump in my car and drive to the Canyon country. I will heed your careful advice, though. I will not expect to find the lands you describe. Nor will I expect to see perfection. That's where my understanding will shift and grow and morph. I will see it for the first time, knowing that it was different yesterday and will be different tomorrow, but trusting that God, in all God's glory, will show God's self to me within it. We may be really great destroyers, but somehow God sustains us and God's creation. I pray that I will always have my eyes open to see what the Lord has made.

Salsa, Soul, and Spirit: Leadership for a Multicultural Age by Juana Bordas
Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey

kitchen table. tea and toast.

Bundled up with a bit of snow left outside my window, I sit at the kitchen table. Alone. I’m still buzzing from the flurry that was my day. In an attempt to recollect my calm, I’ve made a steaming mug of tea and toasted a slice of homemade bread with my very own apple butter lathered on top. Dessert.

The days run out quickly as there is more dark than light this season. Winter is here. Pretty sure we’ve already gotten more snow than in full seasons prior. Eight inches could be an understatement; I didn’t get out the ruler. Actually, I don’t have a ruler.

(Regularly I walk the tightrope of living simply and being prideful about living simply. Hence, I almost deleted my sentence about not having a ruler.)

Life, my life, is in a constant state of change. That seems a bit ironic, I know, but completely truthful. Just when I think I’m rolling into a season that I’ve done before, that will give me more rest than the previous one, something shifts. Some outside force (not usually to be reckoned with) mixes up my life again. I hope I can always be, and come across as, grateful for these seasons, no matter how surprising or challenging they may be. Just as I breathe a sigh of relief that my fall filled with traveling to unfamiliar places filled with unfamiliar people is over, I realize I’m only sleeping my own bed for three weeks before I leave again. I’ll be headed to spend the Holidays with family back east.

For all of the abovementioned travel, I am unquestionably thankful. Getting to travel to faraway cities and states in order to build relationships with people as I introduce them to the organization for which I work, is quite spectacular. Conversation is most rich when it’s filled with passion, and I get that. After a long chat with someone hearing about their lives and sharing with them the opportunities that I believe could offer them even more growth, I am energized. Sure, after a week of those conversations interspersed with not-so-passionate conversations, I’m stinking tired. I wake early to carry my weary bones to the airport and unlike in the past, I hardly say a word to anyone I meet along the way. By that time I’m ready for rest. Ready for the comfort of a bed with month-old sheets and a hand-me-down couch. And quiet.

As far as the travel I’m about to do, it’s hard to explain my feelings towards it. I’m eagerly awaiting time spent with seldom-seen family… tossing little cousins in the air, cooking with aunts in the kitchen, joking around and drinking a bit too much with uncles and cousins-turned-friends after the kids go to bed, and most of all long mornings at the kitchen table with my folks.

Thankfully, even though the house isn’t the same, the kitchen table hasn’t changed. It’s the same kitchen table where we grew up having dinner at every night, blew out countless (well, I guess if I tried hard enough) birthday candles with friends and family gathered around, hid underneath when you couldn’t think of a better spot for hide-and-go-seek, did homework at until you cried because you just didn’t understand, and laughed, a lot.

Back to the point at hand, before I reminisced about our kitchen table… I’ll be spending two weeks back east for the Holidays. These are two of the three weeks I usually spend there each year. It seems like such a small amount of time when I put it into words. Yet, I recognize that I have a family here as well; as I’ve mentioned before, I have a home here too. There are people that I’d like to share more of this season with, families that have loved me really well, friends that have invested in me and visa versa. It’s a beautiful pull to have. With all of that being said, I know I will want to freeze time and stay longer once I get there.

Kathleen Norris has taken over a large percentage of my reading these past few months.

To quote Norris, “I have learned to trust the processes that take time, to value change that is not sudden or ill-considered but grows out of the ground of experience. Such change is properly defined as conversion, a word that at its roots connotes not a change of essence but of perspective, as turning round; turning back to or returning; turning one’s attention to.”

Followed by the ever-inspiring T.S. Eliot, “The end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time.”

Perspective. If anything changes more frequently than our perspective I’d like to become more aware of that thing. If I allow myself to venture down this road, I realize that my perspective changes with every experience I encounter. My perspective on God changes every time I read scripture and allow it to brew thoughts, during each service I attend and seek meaning and truth from the words being spoken, through conversation about life choices and direction with friends, when I see something or someone in a different light than I had before. My perspective on relationships changes every time I engage in one, whether it be new, old, challenging, exciting, scary, uplifting, draining, uncomfortable, passionate, fulfilling, confusing, what have you, because it’s real. And the next time I embark on that journey with someone, my perspective will be different than it was the time before, because of my experience, because of what I learned.

One frustrating thing… I’ll never fully understand someone else’s perspective. No matter how well I know them, no matter how open and honestly they share, it’s like trying to get behind someone’s eyes. Like trying to see the world through the lens that has been molded throughout their lifetime. It’s a bit disappointing. I treasure relationships. I enjoy investing in people that I care about, and being invest in by them. I have to remind myself that I will never fully know the inner-workings and the hidden perspective that has been so delicately woven into every ounce of their being. Hm. Will I ever fully know that of myself?

one of the stunning perspectives from Dewey Point

autumn arises

The fall colors surprised me. Driving from Oakhurst to Lone Pine, I wasn't ready for the aspens in their fiery state. I'm not complaining. The changing of leaves in autumn has always (for as long as I can remember) been a pretty special time of year for me. Growing up in Georgia, in a home surrounded by maples and oaks, I got used to watching the leaves make their shift as the air turned crisp until we gathered them all together on the ground and looked up at the naked trunk left in it's wake.

This past week gave me the opportunity to explore with a sweet friend of mine. We explored the depths of thought and experience as we traveled through the Eastern Sierra. We individually met with God at Convict Lake (pictured above) and then came back together in awe of our time spent there. We breeched conversations we'd never had, we found out things we hadn't known, and we shared wisdom with one another. It was life-giving. It was encapsulated by the greater experience of sloughing off the dead and dying leaves in order to give way to new growth. Aka, autumn.

psalm 25 - teach me your paths

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

O my God, in you I trust;
    let me not be put to shame;
    let not my enemies exult over me.
Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame;
    they shall be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous.

Make me to know your ways, O Lord;
    teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth and teach me,
    for you are the God of my salvation;
    for you I wait all the day long.

Remember your mercy, O Lord, and your steadfast love,
    for they have been from of old.
Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions;
    according to your steadfast love remember me,
    for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!

Good and upright is the Lord;
    therefore he instructs sinners in the way.
He leads the humble in what is right,
    and teaches the humble his way.
All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness,
    for those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.

For your name's sake, O Lord,
    pardon my guilt, for it is great.
Who is the man who fears the Lord?
    Him will he instruct in the way that he should choose.
His soul shall abide in well-being,
    and his offspring shall inherit the land.
The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him,
    and he makes known to them his covenant.
My eyes are ever toward the Lord,
    for he will pluck my feet out of the net.

Turn to me and be gracious to me,
    for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged;
    bring me out of my distresses.
Consider my affliction and my trouble,
    and forgive all my sins.

Consider how many are my foes,
    and with what violent hatred they hate me.
Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me!
    Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you.
May integrity and uprightness preserve me,
    for I wait for you.

Redeem Israel, O God,
    out of all his troubles.

I find myself... rejuvenated

Reason #1 for rejuvenation: 14 hours of sleep in my own bed
Reason #2: the creation of or rekindling of relationships in the Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia area
Reason #3: I filed my taxes. It's only February. I'm getting $1 from the US government.
Reason #4: I am confident that I'm supposed to be where I am
Reason #5: some espresso

The past 2 months of life have been pretty crazy...
2 weeks in Georgia - family, friends, learning, coffee, Christmas, New Years, new news
less than 48 hours in California - repacking my bags, details, friends
3 weeks in Ecuador - friends (new & not so new), mountain climbing, summiting, partnering, learning, loving, exploring
1 week in California - packing in tons of friend-time, details, working overtime, repacking my bags
1 week in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio - relationship building, exploring, driving, smiling, coffee, learning, new things, new people, new places, connections

I spent a lot of time looking out windows like this :)

Those short descriptions don't describe the experiences fully, but they give you an idea.
I can honestly say that I enjoy traveling. Sure, it makes me tired sometimes and I miss whatever home I'm not at, but it's good for my soul. In my mind, traveling means relying on other people (and Google maps), making new friends, rekindling relationships, surprises (which I love), long days of conversation followed by quiet drives heading towards hospitable homes waiting to embrace me (when traveling for work), and wearing the same pants everyday without hesitation because I hardly see the same person twice! Travel means opportunity. I became overwhelmed by the realization of what great opportunity sits at my doorstep every day (no matter whose doorstep that is). With that realization comes great thankfulness and eagerness to share opportunity with others.

If you've ever talked to me about what we do at Summit Adventure (the non-profit, adventure and service-based ministry that I work for) I can assure you that my excitement is always genuine, that my passion is never fabricated, and that my eagerness to hear more about you and your life is because I really want to know.

A friend and I were chatting the other day (go figure) and I was telling him about my new found excitement for what we call 'recruiting.' It's all about relationship. My desire is to build relationships with people. I want to know who they are, what are their desires and needs, where do they want to be in their next season of life, and what kind of experiences they want to have? If I can learn about them, I'm more capable of talking to them about the kind of experiences that we provide at Summit and where those could fit in their future.
You probably could've guessed it - I'm understanding that this relates to my life overall. Again, I desire to build relationships with people. I desire to connect people. I desire to see people's lives enriched. I desire to grow and see others grow. I desire to learn and see others learn.

Soon I'll walk out of this coffee shop, into the brisk February air of the Sierra Nevada foothills, and take my quiet drive to my quiet house to complete a quiet evening of reflecting on what the Lord has to teach me in this beautiful season he has me in. My mind is all but quiet.

Hymns of Autumn part1

The remainder of the summer happened, as did the changing of seasons since my last update.
My current state is bundled up in my home, on a comfortable couch, biding time before I go visit with some good friends, and a bit contemplative.

Things I've found myself contemplating lately are: my geographic placement, per usual - thoughts about what 'home' means to me and all the different places I find it, the ideas of contentment and discontentedness (brought on by a conversation with a kind coffee roaster friend), working myself out of a job (purposefully), friends moving, and dogs.

A few tidbits about my life recently… nothing too profound, just a couple things that have changed or happened recently: I bought new pants (if you know me, you know this is oddly a big deal… I'm frugal and I wear the same pants forever because it works), during my recent recruiting trip I spent time with 8 dear friends in the southeast (this was life-giving), I finished two books (the curious incident of the dog in the night-time and love does), Kristen (who Ben & I used to live with) and I are renting a house (I bought furniture and was given appliances, and am sleeping on a bed on the floor with my grandmother's quilt), I can't stop looking at the sky because autumn is turning into winter.

-- I took a little break from writing this post and am starting back up again --

Thanksgiving found me in Washington with these two friends who just moved to Camp Indianola and Kerri Ann, who flew in from Georgia, creating a new tradition. The hope is that for the next few years we'll spend Thanksgiving together at one of our homes on the "Left Coast" as Curtiss calls it.

Blogging at a coffee shop the size of my bedroom in a small town, full of conversation... not so productive. More later.

where does that leave me?

greetings friends, family, strangers even

It's been a long while since I wrote anything, some influence of a friend compels me. A new leaf has been turned, I'll say, as of yesterday. Maybe it's too soon to say, but I think saying it makes it more real. Being humbled by a 14,000ft peak has a way of moving something within me to change. Negative thoughts of inadequacy push me to take the reins and go forward. Quickly.

The city in which I sit will continue to be my physical home for at least the next 2 years. Consistency of the geographic location of my pillow is happening. Sort of. Tomorrow is the final push of moving out of my house for the past 9 months. I shared that 2 bedroom 1 1/2 bath with 2 people that I cherish deeply and know more fully because of our time there. Thankfulness seems like an understatement. The next 2 months will be spent sleeping outside at Base surrounded by anywhere from 1 to 13 people; depending on the night. After that - the unknown awaits. Looking for a place to rent for possibly 2 years. It's a wild reality, and a search that I haven't had the time to put much effort into, yet.

I've come to the realization that I am surrounded by astounding human beings. My friends are unique and amazing. Climbing 19,000ft peaks at 2am, toting toddlers every day with a smile, scaling the tallest granite monolith in the world (several times), serving selflessly in the community and their homes, cycling 100+ miles, running 20K+, and loving whole heartedly with gentle compassion. It took me struggling up a mountain and recognizing defeat to come to this realization. It's a no-brainer that feelings of inadequacy would creep up on me when I take a look around.
The learning comes in this: my worth is not found there. God has told me over and over that he doesn't calculate those accomplishments when computing my worth. The equation never changes, the numbers used were decided before my mother even knew my face. My worth is stagnant - never thought I'd use that word with a positive connotation. Sure, it's great and all to do what I do well and to be in the physical condition to excel at the above mentioned feats, but that's not where my worth comes from.

The change has been sparked in my mind, will occur more immediately physically, and my hope is that it will continue to be a shift in understanding and appreciation of myself.