three more weeks

I once told a friend "Don't count the days. Make them count."

Tonight I got out the calculator and tallied up all the different reports, reflections, and essays that I have to write in the next three weeks. It came to sixty-three pages.

Now that I've counted, I must make these nineteen days count.

like I never do

I took one last glance out into the dark,
like I never do,
and I saw something beautiful.
Two foxes play fighting
on the volleyball court below my window.
Their shadows pounced
in the gleam of the lights of Tibstra hall.
They didn't care about the stress inside this dorm
just like I was probably the only one to see their struggle.
It was beautiful.
And the beauty of their freedom,
and their play,
and their energy,
called up to me,
telling me to let down my hair,
no longer carry my cares,
to let love climb up inside me
and make me whole.
I rest now,
reminded I am a little jewel
in the crown of God's beautiful creation.

Prickly Pear

Now we see the prickly is prickly free.
So what's the disparity in this pair of pears?
I don't care. They both taste good to me.

Hurdy Gurdy

Today:

I was trying to make it to a Chicago Humanities Festival Event that started at 10am, but a long train came across my path and then my debit card wouldn't work in the CTA's machine, so I had to use up all my cash, and then I was several stops down on the orange line when I realized that, once again, I had forgotten to shove the $2 into the little pay-for-parking slot. I got off the train and waited on the chilly platform for the next outbound train, which I took back to Midway. Since I didn't have any cash and I knew the ATM would charge me and not even give me the correct bills, I just went out to the parking lot in defeat. I was tired, in a very relaxed way, and it didn't bother me that I was just going to have to face the fact that I had not been paying attention to anything all morning and that I had to go back to Trinity, find some cash, and regroup.

So I'm driving down Cicero and suddenly I find myself turning into a strip mall's parking lot. I finally wake up and realize that this is good because I can get something I need and get cash back and get the correct bills all at the same time. So after that my day stopped being so lame.

Downtown again, I stopped by the Cultural Center to view the crocheted coral reef, then took my chance to wander around the Art Institute before the event there started. The event was a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, done skillfully by four violins, a cello, a bass, and a harpsichord. It was so good that a joyful laughter was mixed with my applause. After exiting the auditorium when the concert came to its too-soon end, I realized that my very important name badge had fallen to the floor. I returned and found it in the hands of a volunteer who was cleaning up trash. While I was there, I noticed that several audience members had gone up on stage to talk to the musicians, and that there were two little girls oohing and awing over the beautiful harpsichord.


I saw my chance to make this not only the first day I've ever seen a harpsichord in action, but also the first day to see how a harpsichord works. I watched as he removed the board that covered the hammers and explained the acoustics of the instrument. The little girls moved on to looking at the painting on the underside of the harpsichord's lid, the harpsichordist asked me if I would like to try it out, and the harpsichordist moved on to talking to another audience member.

That is how I ended up seated at a harpsichord on the stage in the beautiful concert hall in the Art Institute of Chicago, playing "O Lord, You're Beautiful," not only because that is one of the only songs I have memorized, but because it just fit.

The next event I went to was a reenactment of a Mediaeval Bible play, Noye's Fludde. Part of the accompaniment to the song and dance was a hurdy gurdy, which I saw up close at the end of the performance.

I walked around Chicago for quite some time, enjoying just being alone, without a schedule, and yet still surrounded by activity. Then I went to an event called "Wars of Scarcity," in which they interviewed Valentino, a man who lived through war, estrangement from his family, refugee camps, and a transition to life in the United States. He is raising awareness of Sudan's plight while he finishes his education, which is preparing him to return to his country as a leader.

After some more wandering (Not all who wander are lost: during my wanderings, a passerby asked me "which way to Chestnut?" and I could tell her, thanks to my previous wanderings, in which I was kind of lost, I guess.), I found a secluded seat on the CTA and traveled back to Trinity.

Fresh pain wouldnt hurt either.

This was a line from the customer review of a resort were I might work next summer. The reviewer wasn't very impressed by Sol Duc Hot Spring's state of maintenance.

Please pray for me as I make decisions about this upcoming semester, the next summer, and even next school year. Pray for smooth transitions, good relationships, and fruitful ministry. Please pray that any fresh pain won't hurt.

a relaxing weekend

Every year, a committee in Chicago puts together a series of cultural events downtown that runs for about three weeks and focuses on an apt theme. This year's theme was climate change. Apt indeed. The events include panels, movies, concerts, and speakers. Hmm. It sounds like I'm advertising. But seriously, it's quite nice.

Trinity gets to send four students as Chicago Humanities Festival fellows each year. This is my second year going, and both years I've really enjoyed the experience. This was an especially fun weekend and I found it to be quite relaxing, actually.

Friday: Finished up classes and around-campus errand running. Carrie and I spent some good side-by-side time. I tried to do a little homework, but then I ended up talking to my long-lost friend Amy on the telephone, trying to catch up on a trimester of happenings. Talking to Amy comes before homework any day, especially Friday. Then I filled my camelbak, a pleasant reminder of many happy adventures, with stuff for the weekend, left my laptop on the desk and the books on the shelves, and headed off to the train station with my friend Kendra.

We armed ourselves with three-day unlimited CTA passes and rode the L downtown to the hostel, where we soon went to bed. I got more sleep than I had gotten in a long time, but Kendra couldn't seem to sleep. One of the things she kept thinking about was how we had completely forgotten to pay for parking. When she told me this the next morning, I shared in her sense of alarm, but there was nothing we could do about it.

After breakfasting at Panera, we attended The Paper Bag Players presentation of On Top of Spaghetti which really had nothing to do with climate change and was geared for 3-6 year olds. It made us laugh a lot. Next was a panel entitled, "What do philosophers have to offer?" (A lot.) Then we went to a concert of the Chicago Complaints Choir. Here's the general idea: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eBPHDyu9jE. Hilarious and inspiring.

While waiting for the next event, "Writing Nature," I wrote my own list of complaints, including "the dishes fill up the sink within a few hours of washing them," "there is a whole in the bottom of my right foot black croc," "my joints pop," and "people are too refined in the wrong way." Now I just need to set my complaints to music.

Saturday's evening event was by far my favorite event of the festival. One eighty-year-old man performed the entire Apology of Socrates from memory with skill and humor. It was incredible to watch because I felt that this man was actually Socrates. Who knows, maybe instead of executing Socrates, they actually froze him and thawed him out just recently so that he could speak to us. And indeed, Socrates has much to say to our generation. A favorite quote: "The unexamined life is not worth living."

Incidentally, this performer also performs this work in the original Greek when he is called upon to do so.

When we returned to the hostel, still reveling in our encounter with the real live Socrates, we set the alarm for 7:00. Thankfully, this was on a auto-resetting cell phone, so we did take advantage of the extra hour of sleep. I wonder if Spain has daylight savings time. Will I have to loose an hour sometime next semester, or will I just throw that in with the jet lag?

Sunday morning we breakfasted "with" and listened to E.L. Doctorow at the Symphony Center. I've never read his works, but he sure is a great guy to listen to. Next we heard Kim Stanley Robinson talk about how much fun it can be to combat climate change. He asked us to examine our activities with these questions: Did I pay for it or do it for free? Did I do it indoors or outdoors? Did I do it alone, or did I do it with others? Did I watch someone else do it or do it myself? Usually the latter answers to these questions are both more fun and better for this planet. I also appreciated his renunciation of monocausotaxophilia.

We topped off the festival festivities by attending a panel called "Religion and the Environment." The Muslim representative talked about Islam's tradition of setting aside land for sanctuary. The Jewish representative talked about the idea of the Sabbath, even suggesting that America should take a sabbath year to reflect on where to go from here and realize that it isn't true that 'the more we have, the more we are.' But the Christian representative had few positive things to say. He could've talked about the purpose of God's creation and the Bible's explicit call for stewardship. Instead he focused solely on the reasons why evangelical America has failed to respond to climate change. As much as I was upset that Christianity was not fairly represented, I agreed with what he had to say. When we evangelicals see humans as exclusively important, expect a rapture at any moment, fear agreeing with New Age followers on any issue, and value objectives by corporate interests, it is no small wonder that we fall short of doing all that we can to care for the beautiful creation God has formed.

When we got back to my car, there was no ticket waiting for us, and we rejoiced in an answered prayer. We returned to this campus refreshed and ready for the Social Justice Chapter meetings, homework, and piled-up emails that awaited us.

And look up at the sky

Something remarkable: tonight as I strolled from South to Tibstra, thinking about the beauty and diversity of relationships, my head tilted back and my eyes opened wide. There above me were stars. Normally I can only make out about five stars thanks to the city lights and smog. But tonight I saw more stars than I've ever seen from the suburbs. I saw the Pleiades, I saw Orion, and I saw Cassiopeia.

"And I do this to remind me that I'm really very tiny
In the grand scheme of things and sometimes this terrifies me."