Michele on the Road

A Fresh Coat

2012-01-30T08:50:00.001-08:00

Dumpster. Seward, Alaska c. 2008

Sometimes the most beautiful things come from broken fragments.

Sometimes our dreams can only be formed into reality by that wish we which to forget.

Sometimes the best psychotherapist can be a paintbrush.

A Repost

2012-01-24T06:36:00.000-08:00

Flowers in the Queen's garden. Buckingham Palace.

With hopes that spring is just around the corner...

Hope grows
From a seed encased in an unyielding shell
Buried amidst the remains of decaying refuse.

Hope grows
From a tiny tendril reaching ever upward
When upward seems to be everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Hope grows
From a green stalk of organized living
Striving towards the light while living in the dark.

Hope grows
From every living stalk
That passes through decaying soil

To become beauty.

A New Year, A New Space, A New Me

2012-01-15T18:00:00.000-08:00

"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."

C. S. Lewis

I love this quote from CS Lewis, eccentric, insightful theologian that he was. I think it may be motto for 2012. 2012 holds a lot for me. For one, it's a new year. It's also the year I'll start a new decade of my life even though a small part of me insists on seeing everyone through the eye's of a kindergartner on her first day of school, afraid of the traffic patrol kids and arriving to school 30 minutes before every other student only to have to sit by herself at the small wooden table, playing with toys in a plastic turquoise bin. Anyways...

It's also a year of moving into a new space. A space all of my own. As much as I love people, I don't necessarily like living with them. Ok, so maybe I like living with them, but I don't like living in poorly-decorated, cluttered, dirty spaces. Though medicine taught me that my health depended upon prescriptions and physicians and a healthy dose of faith, I've learned that the places we inhabit inevitably shape who we are. Studies show there's more crime in broken-down, ugly spaces and that a person's blood pressure drops when they spend time outdoors.

So New Year's Resolution #1? Promote health and world peace. Live in a beautiful place with views of the outdoors.

Though medicine taught me that my health depended upon prescriptions and physicians and a healthy dose of fate, I've since learned that our bodies are innately complex implicitly beautiful structures that need to be taken care of, maintained, and tuned-up from time to time. They can't be traded in and break-downs are expensive to repair.

Mine's already had two expensive repairs and I've seen the effects it had not only on my body but my psyche and soul as well. So right before the new year began, I started with a major "oil, lube, and filter." I went to Mexico for almost two weeks and practiced restorative yoga at least 90 minutes a day, gave up caffeine, ate vegetarian food, and indulged in a liver/detox 7 day cleanse. I was almost in heaven but my body felt like hell for a few days. It makes sense, I'd let anything and everything toxic to my liver (Rx drugs, a little ethanol, loads of sugar, etc.) try to filter through for 20 something years. Needless to say my body was a bit clogged.

So New Year's Resolution #2? Maintain my body. Worship the Trifecta: Pilates, Yoga, and Feldenkrais.

Though medicine taught me that my health depended upon prescriptions and physicians and a healthy dose of fate, I have learned that my life story is my own. For too many years my life script has been written by well-meaning friends, family, and "fathers of the faith." No more. It's time to make up my own life. One day at a time.

New Year's Resolution #3? To go be the best darned hatched egg I can be. Besides, who likes rotten eggs anyways?

A Chance Encounter

2011-12-19T18:16:00.000-08:00

Sometimes our best encounters can be found in our own backyards:

Dear stranger,

I wonder if you felt the pressure of time.

I did. I almost didn't notice you,

As I fumbled through my cave of a purse.

Looking for often-lost, rarely-found keys.

You were searching, too.

Body half buried in the cavern of a metal bin

Your eyes were fixed attentively

Examining its inside contents ,

Much the way that a surgeon looks,

Hoping to find the last remnant of a tumor.

You withdrew from your cave for a moment.

A breath of fresh air? I needed one, too.

Our eyes met.

Yours were hidden under a face,

Traversed with the crevices of life,

Sheltering stories I'll never hear.

I said, "Hello."

You nodded and clasped your hand,

Bandaged and bloody.

Bar fight? Broken glass?

I wondered.

To that one word you payed more attention

Than most people I know.

Yet, which words you often hear?

"Hobo," "vagabond," "crazy?"

Maybe "hello" is what you were searching for.

Maybe keys were what I needed to lose.

Dear friend,

Thanks for the brief moment of kindness and the chance encounter.

-MG

Upstream

2011-10-24T09:39:00.000-07:00

I love the LEAF festival: 3 days of music, dance, healing arts, and good ole' family fun all staged in a beautiful valley in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It's no wonder then that I have withdrawal symptoms and new thoughts every time it ends.

In order to curb my withdrawal symptoms, there will be new thoughts on athispage in the form of a blog post: "The Demise of Willow Grove: An Unhealthy Government Decision."

But for now, break's over. Back to finding creative ways to make Tennesseans healthier....

An Ode to Lake Eden Arts Festival

2011-10-18T19:35:00.000-07:00

Kudos to the Quakers

2011-09-20T09:39:00.000-07:00

It's time for an update. For now here's an I.O.U....

Can You Can?

2011-08-28T19:28:00.000-07:00

It was a bitter cold morning (by Nashville standards) last January, and I still wasn't settled into my new life here. Though the snow lay light and fluffy on the ground, my heart was heavy. Then I saw a jar of peaches on the shelf: several yellow smiles floating in a light syrup behind a wall of glass, bringing a smile to my face as well.

I pulled the jar off the shelf, opened it, and scooped out a few slices and placed them on my bowl of yogurt. As I slowly ate the ambrosia-like mixture, savoring the taste of last summer and appreciating the fragrance of semi-fresh fruit, memories came to mind. Memories of a lovely summer July evening in Shady Valley, Tennessee spent nestled in a farmhouse over a hot stove amidst good conversation and good women as we packed little pieces of creation into old glass mason jars.

Come January 2012, once again I hope to open a big jar of peaches and turn my winter blues into smiles of memories of summer, memories spent in an eclectic, well-designed condo over a hot stove while sharing good company and listening to Patty Griffith.

My food may not come from a box nor a big box store, but it does come with a lot of good memories...an a smile or two.

14 jars of strawberry preserves
15 jars of blackberry jam
5 quarts of peaches
3 pints of tomato sauce
3 pints of tomatoes
1 1/2 pint of tomato paste
Packages of dehydrated blueberries, watermelon, honeydew melon, cucumbers, and squash
Several bags of frozen peas
One container of sauerkraut

A few more jars of sauce, beets, and melons to go....

Eat local, eat well.

Words, Stories, and a Question

2011-08-17T08:56:00.000-07:00

Words. Four, six, eight, ten letter amalgamations of characters on a page.

With them we consecrate a relationship between two individuals, bestow identity onto new life, and usher our communities into war and peace. With them we also cheer on our favorite team, curse our neighbor, and label a person we've never met.

These creations produced from the altar of our mind and carried on the incense of our breath through the temple of our mouths for the world to hear give meaning to our life and render the lives of others meaningless.

So needless to say, when I heard ETSU was offering a course on global storytelling with Eth-No-Tec, Hannah Harvey, and Joseph Sobol, I signed up. An opportunity to use words to connect thoughts and ideas across time, space, and culture was something I couldn't pass up, nor did I. Last week was almost bliss as I sat in a room listening to stories, telling stories, and creating stories with ten other story-driven souls.

And an unexpected thing happened during this process. I was reminded of various moral lessons I had forgotten, of values I had held, and that others (though different from me on many levels) shared some of these same values and morals. And when I heard these moral lessons I wasn't offended. It wasn't as if someone was nagging me. Rather, through a story, the moral lesson had the time and space to sit and meander through my heart, soul and mind until it gently sank in my memory as a bird of happiness or a clever, honest monkey.

And something else unexpected happened. I remembered the power that a story can have: for the teller, the one about whom it is told, and for the listeners. As a response to one of the stories we heard, I had the opportunity to tell a story about my grandfather's experience in World War II. Not only did it become a story, but it also became a time for me to show honor to a courageous man and to give honor to the two (presumably) homeless veterans who were in the audience at the time of the telling. Likewise, when one of my classmates told her story about ringing the freedom bell at the end of a inter-state tour of the Underground Railroad, many of us felt the joy and celebration that she exuded.

For me, taking a global storytelling class was a means for me to learn that stories provide an opportunity to connect words, ideas, and values regardless of location, time, or belief. It also was a means for me to learn two important things about myself: I like stories. I like telling them.

So my question is: where have the stories gone? Why don't we tell them? Are we content with letting poorly-written plot lines that send messages devoid of any moral teaching in the name of technology or entertainment be our only source of "stories?" And why do we represent cultures with lists of labels and statistics and reports? Where are their stories?

Perhaps the answer to world peace involves good stories...and good storytellers....

I've Got a Story (or two) to Tell You

2011-08-12T21:55:00.000-07:00

Later.

Promise.

Pinky swear promise...

The Secret's Out

2011-08-08T16:31:00.000-07:00

Asheville ranked #1 on Good Morning America's "Most Beautiful Places to Live" list released today. It's no wonder I was bummed when I found out I had to move to Nashville last summer. At least I get to spend this week back in my "home" territory. Yay for "work" trips.

Picture: Sunset from a friend's cabin 30 miles from Asheville.

Bears, Backpacks, and Beards...Oh My!

2011-08-06T16:22:00.000-07:00

"If you give a mouse a cookie he might eat it, if you put a girl in a forest of burned down trees she might just...."

So I'm en route back to Nashville after a super work/vacation trip to the Bay Area and other parts of California. Lots of new experiences, friends, and thoughts. More to come when I have more time to pay attention to the screen in front of me instead of the announcement on the intercom above me....

Our Bodies Aren't Plants...

2011-07-19T02:23:00.000-07:00

...but maybe we should treat them like them like one.

I hope to develop this thought further when it's not 3am, but it's an idea I've been chewing on lately.

As many of you know, I'm somewhat disillusioned with the field of "healing" I chose to study. Lately, this disillusionment has been further nurtured by some careful observations.

This summer, when possible, I've been helping my friends out on their farm as well as worked to grow a few things in a small garden at our house. It's been a wonderful experience as I've learned first hand how life can trickle up out of the ground and with proper nurture and attention, can spring forth into a delicious carrot or a mess of savory greens. I must confess. This endeavor is turning me somewhat into a food snob. After realizing that I hate eating fresh carrots from the store, finding them bland and somewhat slimy, I realize that I love eating fresh carrots harvested directly from the ground, crunchy and sweet.

I've also realized that my body, just like the plants in the ground, is a living being...and maybe I should treat it like one.

I find it interesting that though our bodies are composed of the same organic matter as plants (give or take) that we assume a disconnect between our brains, our tastes, and our well-being. Growing up I was taught that drinking Dr. Pepper and eating Little Debbie snack cakes was a healthy diet. I also seemed to miss a lot of school for being sick. A correlation? Perhaps.

If plants need a certain amount of micro and macronutrients, water, and cultivation, don't we? Can we assume that we can pour any amount of processed "food" into our body and that we will somehow function well? Can we assume that our mind, made of the same organic matter, will function well, too, without these vital elements? Yet, I would assume that many of us don't provide our bodies with the proper nutrients, live in an environment not conducive for growth (i.e. bad soil), "water" ourselves with sugary soft drinks and then cry out when we feel withered and droopy. I then find it interesting that our health care system then tries to patch our withered selves back together without looking at these essential elements of nutrition, hydration, and structure.

But maybe it makes sense. We grow crops in poor soil and then pump them full of fertilizer to make them "healthy" for consumer consumption. Seems like we do the same thing with our bodies and if you'll run with me on this analogy, spend lots of $$$ building better fertilizer machines instead of working on good ground and proper cultivation.

Hmm...I'm not a rocket scientist or a world class farmer, but it doesn't make sense to neglect a living organism, ourselves, and then expect it to grow and produce properly for not only one season but several. And if those store-bought "healthy" carrots are really good and healthy, then why do the ones from the ground or sold at the farmers market, better-tasting?

My body isn't a plant....but maybe I should treat it like one...

Quick Summer Thoughts: A Draft

2011-07-06T03:23:00.000-07:00

Dew on the lawn

Greets morning fog

A condensed kiss from the same breath.

The rooster crows

Another life is born for the taking

Enveloped in a white casket.

Globes of ebony

Ripen on the vine

Ready to hide behind glass walls.

Beetles and bugs idle.

Legs, leaves, and teeth intertwine.

In a synergistic tussle for life.

Summer is more than here in the mountains.

The 4 Letter Question

2011-06-27T23:01:00.000-07:00

Though my distaste for the four letter word "residency" has lessened, my dislike for the question, "So what are you going to do with the rest of your life?" has increased. After a relative asked me this question yesterday despite not having seen me in over a year, I decided it was time for divine intervention.

After work I was ready to march down to the church where I had worshiped (i.e. gawked at the architecture, appreciated the choral music, and tried not to fall asleep halfway through the Nicene Creed) a few times, rally the troops and have a good ole' fashioned prayer meeting. But, remembering my Southern heritage, I first rang the church secretary. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: So I was wondering if there was a priest or someone available for prayer.
Sec: What?
Me: You know. Someone to pray with. I'd like to meet to pray with someone.
Sec: I'm sorry, we don't have a priest on call today.
Me: So there's no one who could meet with me today to pray?
Sec: No, they are only available on Sundays.
Me: Oh, I suppose God only works on Sundays, too.

Click.

Sigh. Even the man upstairs has a full appointment book on Mondays.

Truth

2011-06-26T19:38:00.000-07:00

"I've had years of cramped up city life trapped like a duck in a pen..." well so maybe my life doesn't quite mirror Rocky Top...but I have spent way too many years trapped in a classroom and a pew. In an attempt to make amends with my body and soul and the creation around it, this weekend I decided to venture out into the wilderness.

Ignoring the possibility of rain and accompanied by one of my favorite adventure companions, I wandered off into the wilderness to find Virgin Falls. What we found was not only a pocket wilderness but also several pockets of unadulterated wonders: cave crickets that make their abode alongside tunnels of water, amphitheaters of stone whose only audience waits for the rocks to cry out, water who commits suicide with a 120 foot leap, and a myriad of roots, rocks, and trees. It was a lovely jaunt, a wonderful summer afternoon, and a chance to be reminded of truth.

In an era where reality is relative and I am supposed to believe that electronic signals represent musicians, actors, and my friends; in an era where I'm told that sitting in a pew will somehow make me stand up for Jesus; and in an era where everything is changing, it is wonderful to be surround by images of truth.

That's what I love about nature: it's truth.

If I jump off a cliff, I will fall, if I go into a cave, it will be dark, and if I touch water, it will be wet. Nature is a healing place because I can believe its authenticity and I can trust its stability. Nature may be harsh, it may be unfeeling, but at least its real.

I appreciate that.

Thanks friend for the reminder and the wonderful hike.

Here's a few nature quotes and hoping I'll have more weekends out in the woods and on the water:

Look at the trees, look at the birds, look at the clouds, look at the stars... and if you have eyes you will be able to see that the whole existence is joyful. Everything is simply happy. Trees are happy for no reason; they are not going to become prime ministers or presidents and they are not going to become rich and they will never have any bank balance. Look at the flowers - for no reason. It is simply unbelievable how happy flowers are. ~Osho

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.... People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~Alice Walker, The Color Purple, 1982

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. ~e.e. cummings

The poetry of the earth is never dead. ~John Keats

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. ~John Muir

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein

Watching clouds roll by
on a sunny day
Who needs church?
Nature is divine.
~Carrie Latet

Here's a Thought

2011-06-23T07:56:00.000-07:00

Is it better to wander the world, lost, or find yourself right at home?

Mortgage on the Wall

2011-06-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

If I didn't have a mortgage hanging on my wall,
I might just feel,
A bit taller and a bit wiser,
Perhaps a bit finer,
Just being me.

But for now my mortgage hangs on my wall
10 years of my life.
Gone.
For a dream I once held,
Of doing good and doing well.

If I didn't have a scar tracking cross my foot
I might not stay in place
I might just dance, and sing
And paint a life
That might be great.

But for now my scar tracks cross my foot
A reminder of months, years.
Gone.
Because I had to be well.
And surgery was the only way to health.

Ok. Time to stop listening to old time tunes and get some fresh air. Geez.

Green Yourself for God

2011-06-16T08:07:00.000-07:00

According to the Federal Office of Faith-Based and Community Partnerships:

"If American houses of worship all reduced energy waste and saved a modest 10 percent of current use, they would achieve:

Savings of about $315 million that could be redirected to programs and ministries

Prevention of more than 1.3 million tons of greenhouse gas emissions-equivalent to the emissions of about 240,000 cars, or to planting nearly 300,000 acres of trees."

Hmm..

Regretsy

2011-06-15T07:41:00.000-07:00

So some of you may be familiar with the site Regretsy which spoofs items sold on Etsy. Here's my version found on Etsy.

This "beautifully handcrafted origami F-18 fighter jet" can be yours... for $15. The bills are new and unfolded (really?) and can be used for legal tender. "It would make a perfect Father's Day gift."

Really? $15 for a folded $1 bill? Now there's an investment. Why didn't I think of that?

A Moment on the Way to Emmaus

2011-06-15T07:21:00.000-07:00

When I didn't find the day as I wanted,
I angrily raised my hands to the heavens and asked for a companion.
When you didn't find the bus stop you needed,
You kneeled and humbly prayed a ride to take you from here.
We found each other.

Two strangers on a broken pathway.
You, walking purposely for God.
Or so you told me.
I, wandering, for something.
Or someone, perhaps.

My tires, bare from trails and trips,
Caressed the pavement.
Your shoes, soles worn,
moved one in front of the other.
Beside me, you traveled.

People passed us quickly.
The miles came slowly.
You wanted to turn back.
I needed you to go on.
We looked for common ground on a broken path.

Together we spoke, and walked, and shared,
A piece of a moment,
The light as the sun settled into its home below the trees
Your thoughts of a temporary abode.
The call of a red-winged bird.

Neither of us found what we were looking for
That summer afternoon.
But for a few miles and a few hours
Our hearts burned.
On a road to Emmaus.

Maybe I get God. Maybe I don't get Jesus. But if God is real and Jesus is, too, then God I hope he looks like a ruddy-faced schizophrenic woman I met the other night. He sure would be lovely that way.

A Novel Idea

2011-06-13T20:27:00.000-07:00

So here's a story/movie idea:

Straight-laced religious girl who spends most of her time sitting in a pew or reading her Bible and wondering why she can't get God, one day wakes up from her religion...

...and...

...becomes a folk dancer...and travels around the world learning about folk dancing and then finds out that the "God" she's been searching for all along was actually in the beauty of humanity around her, not in a stale sermon from a pulpit.

This random thought brought to you by seeing Czechs, Puerto Ricans, and Appalachian-Americans being told to "promenade" around a small stage in a Nashville park. The things you can find for free...

Status

2011-06-06T19:14:00.000-07:00

Some of my favorite status updates:

"The problem with the "normal" Nashville guy as noted by an astute female: "You know I really like him. But I'm afraid he really likes Jesus. He works at this hip indie coffee house. But I think he got the job because he worked at Starbucks for 5 years before that." Sigh.... Loneliness can be underrated."

"I think I must have been a bull in a prior life. I've recently had a proclivity for buying red things."

"Counting down the hours to my mini retreat in the mountains. Mountain music, mountain moves, mountain men, mountain meals. It should be a memorable Memorial Day weekend. This status update brought to you by the letter "M."

Greens in the ground, peppers in a pot, herbs whose roots head down.
Pungent soil, vibrant colors, air full of sunshine, warmth, and expectations.
The season of growth has begun.

Produce, neatly-packaged, in a row.
Like coffins in a mausoleum, labeled: 99 cents/lb. 2 for 5.
Cool, fluorescent lights. Plastic bags, sterile floors.
Health food.

"So if eggs are bad for your cholesterol, then why is it after eating 6-12 of them a week, that my total cholesterol is less than my weight? I think eggs are excellent!"

"Kill anger with creativity and practice prophylactic forgiveness. Please forgive me for anything I may have done or that I may do."

today's "Christian" bumper sticker message brought to you by Michele's walk to work: "Be friends with Jesus. If not, that's ok. I'm sure Satan will take you back."

"Glad to know her hotel has no tornado contingency plan."

"Activism may be attractive, but personal responsibility and good policy are more practical.""West African dance class: $, gas to get to class: $, food to give you energy to make it through class: $. Making a complete fool out of yourself in front of a bunch of Southern Ivy profs and students while wearing a smile on your face and having a good time?: priceless."

"Dear God: I know you said "thou shall not covet" but what about the red snakeskin boots at the thrift store? They don't belong to anyone...yet..."

"Thinks that in Tennessee's next Health Plan, she should write in a strategy to eliminate the months of January and February. She thinks would improve mental health and decrease violent crimes and obesity."

"T-3 days til old man winter and I part ways (and FB). I find old guys creepy anyways ;o) "
"Perhaps the best thing we can teach our children and ourselves is that the world is broken, people are broken and broken things can be beautiful even in their state of brokenness..."

Most annoying conversation of last weekend:
Guy: So you come here (Grey Eagle) often?
Me: I used to but I moved to Nashville a few months ago
Guy: So you come here to dance every Monday?
Me: I did when I lived in Johnson City, but now I live in Nashville so no.
...Guy: So you used to live here?
Me: No, I never lived here. I just came here to dance on Monday nights.
Guy: Have you ever been to Knoxville?

"Cold weather, grey skies, and brown everywhere is so last month. Where's spring?"

A Session on Status

2011-06-06T13:46:00.000-07:00

Why can Hondurans have it their way and get twenty cent Jalapenos on their Whopper and I'm lucky if they remember to leave off the mayo?

During my next moment of boredom (due to occur in approximately one minute...work day will you end, please?), I think I'm going to harvest some of my favorite status updates from Facebook and post them here. Now all my non-Facebook friends can enjoy the benefit of any thoughts that have leaked onto the screen. Besides, since I'm not traveling anymore (little Civic refuses to make the drive from Nashville to Asheville anymore), I have to have something to do, right?

Thunderstorms and Thoughts

2011-06-05T18:47:00.000-07:00

I was excited today...I was going to a picnic with people from a church to talk about care of creation. But when I arrived I saw boxes of fried chicken purchased from a large retail chain and heard cries of delight when someone plunked a bag of potato chips down onto the table. I sighed. Perhaps one day there would be time to educate the masses on the beautiful relationship that can exist between our heart, our mouth, and our mind...that food doesn't have to be produced in some anonymous disconnected manner and that even though there may be some labor involved, it's a joyful process to grow, harvest, and preserve those elements which sustain us. But that's another thought for another day...and one I wasn't ready to share with this group of almost strangers.

I left and went to the lake to meet my dad for a hike only to take shelter from a thunderstorm. As we took shelter from the rain and I took the time to review what I learned in a dulcimer workshop yesterday, we came to a conclusion: I'm a storyteller...and a writer. And I haven't been doing enough of either lately.

So.... with that thought in my head, I'm looking at a couple of options (and pondering many others) for another book or two:

1. The Gospel According to Life
This is an idea that's been floating around for awhile....the thought being that most of the lessons we learn about moral living have nothing to do with a pastor or a pulpit. Rather, they are learned experientially and in community. Stories could include:
Hospitality in the Hebrides
If the Burning Bush had Butterflies and Moses Wore a Baseball Cap
There Are no Wild Chickens
Yes you Can
If Farmers were Artists
Dear Rock: I think You're Beautiful
Where Can I Find a Recovering Perfectionist
One Big Messy Canvas
Change Without Catastrophe
Singing with Saints and Spaniards
A bus, a boat, and a mass of Catholics
Trains, planes, and a Saint Bernard

2.Perhaps recounting my lessons/encounters from my trip to Europe (though looking at the previous list, most of these could tie into this).

Hmm. This is making me want to plan another trip...another story perhaps...

One Year Anniversary

2011-06-02T20:17:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I found myself in the middle of nowhere Appalachia sleeping in a rambling old farmhouse in honor of the opening of the Appalachian Trail Institute/Folk School. Old friends, old buildings, old shoes, but a new dance floor, a new school, and a new opportunity.

I also realized this past weekend was also a mixture of old and new. It was approximately the one year anniversary of attending the Duke Div School Summer Institute which I blame for changing my paradigm (or perhaps consolidating many ideas floating in my head) about my purpose and how I view food. It's also approximately the one year anniversary of venturing over the mountain and discovering the other side of contra dancing in Asheville, NC. Those these events are almost a year old, they've brought many new experiences, people, and thoughts into my head over the past year.

But more on that later. It's late. It's late. And...I have a very important date early tomorrow morning: Pilates and my PJs. I love work from home days. Yay technology. Yay old traditions. Yay for both affecting my life in a positive way.

PS: I still miss the mountains: the music, the meals, the movement, the meaningful and abundant way of living...Sigh...

PPS: Could someone do me a huge favor and cut out the part of I-40 from Lebanon to Knoxville. That'd make it alot easier to visit the mountains...

RePost

2011-06-01T09:21:00.000-07:00

I came across this post while perusing my old blog (original post written Novemer 2004 on my "Michele in Med School" blog).

http://michelegourley.blogspot.com/2004/11/devaluation-of-american-society.html

It seems to be an appropriate post given my recent Etsy addiction, reflection on community, etc.

My apologies for the poor writing.

More to come soon...

New Spin

2011-05-04T10:24:00.000-07:00

So I'm thinking about starting a new blog around health. I went into the healthcare industry thinking that being the stereotypical "good doctor" would be a great way to help people become healthier. I was wrong. 15 minute consults, all night shifts, and a myriad of checks and boxes to fill in left me feeling unhealthy myself and ill-prepared to help others along their journey of health. However, my four yeas of med school "hell" along with personal studies and endeavors did give me a depth and breadth of knowledge which I feel obliged to share at some point.

Thus, I'm thinking about starting an informal blog with weekly posts centered around health (physical, mental, social, spiritual, etc.). Our health is a journey and a communal one at that.

Stay tuned...

"Good health and good sense are two of life's greatest blessings." -Pubilius Syrus

Sojourns

2011-03-26T21:26:00.000-07:00

So the journal and my camera were in my backpack, in the back seat, in a locked Land Cruiser, at a guarded Burger King...in Tegucigalpa. Anything wrong with this picture? Tegucigalpa. Oh how I love you you big, dirty, corrupt, economically disparate city you. And you took my backpack and it's contents...or at least one of your residents did. Puchica. Que barbaridad. At least you left the dulcimer that was sitting beside it in the vehicle. Gracias mi amigo. At least I had something to take out my anger and sadness on ("Angeline the Baker at the age of 43..."). Give me a few days to recreate my "Off the Map" adventures and describe the lovely photos I took. For now I'll just say it was a "Addicts and the Arts, Off the Map, Church Leaders and Cycle Beads, Diving Wannabe Diva, Sunburn on the Sand, the Rich and the Jealous, Miner from Missouri, Forgotten Birthday Cake, Produce Before You Die, Poverty vs. Poor People, Broken Down Buses and Turned Over Trucks, Dulcimers and Dona Dora, Chewy Cashews, Gringas on Mules and Guys in Trucks" kind of trip. Geez I miss my journal and pictures. If there are any of these topics you'd like me to explore, please let me know and I'll try to cover them in my posts. Cheers!

Goodbye!

2011-03-09T14:02:00.000-08:00

I know. I said I'd blog while I'm here. But new friends, working with patients at CEREPA, teaching American dance to latin music, booking flights to Roatan, and sleeping and eating and enjoying warm weather means that I'm not going to have time to blog or checking email. Sorry. Feel free to leave encouraging messages here. I'll mostly be in the mountains (i.e. no cell service and NO internet) for the next week but I'll be happy to read anything when I get back.

Hope things are well for all of you! Lots in the journal. I'll try to post pics and such when I return. Cheers!

Estoy Aqui

2011-03-07T07:27:00.000-08:00

A 30 minute car ride, 4.5 hours of flight time, a 3.5 drive, and I'm here. And happy. And feeling as if were just yesterday instead of 3 years ago.

You learn some interesting things while traveling. Like apparently giving English grammar adavice on the difference between "and," "or" and "like" is perfectly normal at 4am in the morning at the Nashville airport. Also, if you carry an instrument case in the Nashville airport people give you the "you must be some famous musician but I have no idea who you are and feel embarrased because I don't know" look.

I've also realized it's "Spring Break Mission Trip" season. The airport was littered with college students laying on the floor asleep in their PJs and pseudo-Jesus hipster guys sporting neatly-trimmed goatees engaged in conversations like this while their overly skinny wives enviously eyed every well-dressed women that passed their table in the food court:

"Now remember, we're going down there to help the people," Jesus hipster guy.
"Honey, I think I found the word in this English/Espanyole dictionary," Jesus' guy's wife.
"Oh, we can look it up when we get there." Jesus hipster guy, storking his goatee and looking pensive. "Right now we need to focus on what we're going to do there."
"This is the last salad I'm going to eat for a week!" Jesus hipster guy's female team member.
"And don't forget the water. They can drink it but we'll get sick," Jesus hipster guy.
"What about Ephesians 3? That's my favorite chapter of the whole Bible," Another female team member.
"Oh I got it right here!" Jesus hipster guy's male team member dressed in gym shorts and a bandanna. Proceeds to read Ephesians 3.
"Amen!" Jesus hipster guys. Jesus hipster guy's wife stares at another well-dressed woman that walks by their table.

Sigh. Ghandi once said he'd become a Christian if it weren't for Christians. Te entiendo, Ghandi.

So people have been asking me what I'm doing here. I can tell you what I'm not doing. I'm not building a house (especially with a tile roof since that increases the risk of Chaga's disease in endemic areas), I'm not seeing patients (especially since most medications can be purchased without a prescription and since there is no chance for follow up), and I'm not handing out candy and playing with children (since sugar increase the risk of cavities).

So what am I doing? Being. Just being. Perhaps it's the best gift we can give each other: ourselves. So far that looks like joking around with the crew that came and picked me up yesterday, teaching exercise classes at CEREPA, sharing tea and conversation at the house I'm staying at, hanging out at the gym, and working with an employee wellness program and maybe finding time to practice the 4-5 songs I know on dulcimer.

But speaking of, it's hard to be when I'm thinking about blogging so I expect my posts to be sparse. I've got lessons to create, classes to teach, and a country and town to explore.

Hello Olancho! Hello 80-90 degrees. Hello "mission" trip.

"If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up in mine, then let us work together." Lilla Watson. Aboriginal activist.
"

Signing Off

2011-03-04T22:38:00.000-08:00

Church of the Notre Dame, Luxembourg (or perhaps Nashville)

If you ever happen to be in Nashville on the first Friday night of the month, I highly recommend that you come and see a few sacred dancers and hear the liturgy at Christ Church's Sacred Spaces service. It's like Hopwood's Adoration service, Anglican style with a few extra hundred people and some dancers. Though I would claim a religious title just as quickly as a recently divorced woman would claim the last name of a new lover, I do find comfort in good words to live good lives. I appreciate spaces, temporal and physical, to allow the mind to process things greater than ourselves that such services provide. And did I mention? There's free cheese and wine afterwards served in the library that houses books by authors anywhere from Brueggeman to Bredesen and anything in between.

So Nashville's growing on me. It's not a perfect space but I have to remind myself that I don't live in heaven. However, my job, and my schedule, and this place are providing me a space where I can start to find some of that balance between music (did I mention I was asked to start practicing with a newly-forming contra band?), and writing, and spiritual things, and agriculture, and language and health and dance and community... Could someone put a few mountains and waterfalls here and remove some of the cliche, consumer, "I love Jesus and that's all I need to do with my life" culture? Then I think I could stay awhile...

We'll see. For now, I need to pack. According to a guy at the dance tonight, Honduras is close to Russia. That's a long way from here...

"Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice" TS Eliot "Ash Wednesday

Checking it Twice

2011-03-03T20:19:00.000-08:00

A slightly startled Mijat and a happy Michele. c. 4/2008

...sunscreen, swimsuit, sturdy shoes, smile, shirts, socks...got it. I'm ready. Actually I haven't even started packing (!). It's just two weeks. It's just some place I should have returned to a long time ago for a long time. But sometimes fear and life and people and indecision get in the way.

But not now.

So what am I doing? That's a good question. Since this trip is entirely funded by Delta and myself (unless some kind soul would like to help with incidental costs), I have complete freedom to do as little or as much as I want or see necessary.

But I do have an agenda...kinda...

1. To go back and be with the people of PREDISAN, people who embraced me in a difficult time in my life, who opened up their hearts, homes, and lives for a few weeks so I could learn from them and they could learn from me.

2. To find beauty in brokenness. It looks like I'll get to do this through PREDISAN's alcohol and drug treatment center CEREPA. They're giving me space to bring a mixture of music, movement, and mujeres together to hopefully create something beautiful in the midst of what is usually considered an unbeautiful time in life.

3. Space. I need it. To sort things out. To sort out my upside down, long-held, now-discarded paradigm. I don't know what this will look like yet other than an almost-empty journal (put pens on the packing list) and an overflowing mind full of ideas.

Mountain dulcimer, me. Passport, PJs. Jars of jam, jeans. I've got some packing to do...

Two More Reposts

2011-03-01T18:10:00.000-08:00

or shall I say relinks?

http://michele-on-the-road.blogspot.com/2009/11/think-im-caught-up.html

http://michele-on-the-road.blogspot.com/2009/10/be-ye-perfect.html

Gosh. Reading these reposts is making me want to travel...

All I Need to Know in Life...

2011-02-28T20:40:00.000-08:00

...I didn't learn in the pew or a pulpit. The last part is going to be the subtitle of my next book.

Sometimes you need to write a pissed-off paper, address it to a particular person, and then pitch it in the trash can. I dedicate tonight's PO'ed paper to my Left Ankle Surgeon who told me I could never be a surgeon, wear high heels, or do other things becuase she was going to "fix" my ankle problem and to many former pastors who claimed that the pleasure of dancing wasn't worth the consequence of perdition. To these people I say...well...I'll keep it couth...Mr.Pastors, the pleasure of dancing may not be worth the consequence of perdition but at least when I'm 92 and laying in my nursing home bed, I will have a few pleasurable memories. To my ankle surgeon I say, though my ankle is still screwed up because of you, wearing heels is not impossible and I didn't want to be a surgeon anyways.

So I've learned that just like there are creepy old guys in contra (COGs), there are creepy old guys in swing. There are also a lot of fun young ones, too (FYGs)! A scenario tonight went something like this:

"Was be"
"What?"
"Was be"
"What was?"
"My name is Wasbi," the attractive olive skinned young man said to me as he attempted an awkward lilt from side to side in time with the music followed by a string of very smooth connected spins and gyrations that threatened even the best dancer's sense of balance.
"Oh, ok. Nice to meet you," I replied as my head and body spun around the room between lilts.
"I'm new at this. Usually I salsa."
"That's ok. I'm new too. I contra."
"Huh?"
"Nevermind. Let's dance."

So I dedicate one chapter of my proposed new book to dancing. You can learn a lot from it. And have fun. And bring joy to others. Knowledge, fun, joy. No wonder I've found myself on the dance floor more than an hour or two a week. From West African dance I've learned that sometimes words are superfluous and to commit to an effort, whether it be work or dancing or both, with your whole being. Why complain to everyone about having to wipe the sweat from your brow when you can demonstrate such a motion in a melodramatic, hip flinging way?

From contra I've learned the value of equality and being part of a community and no matter what you think of the individuals, they're necessary part to make the whole thing work.

And from my latest endeavor, swing, I've learned the joy of putting motion and expression to music (whoever came up with the idea of sitdown concerts must have been related to my ankle surgeon). Perhaps swing dance is to jazz music what theatre is to the written word. Or perhaps it's a short cut on the road to perdition.

Lots of learning about life outside an institution. But there are other topics to explore. Space, music, shared meals, work, language, and farming are other chapters to add..

Anyways...I have lots of stories but it's time for bed..maybe one day I'll write a real post...until then there's rants and dance! :o)

Bedouin musicians

Another Repost

2011-02-27T20:47:00.001-08:00

"Beati voi poveri"-a tribute to Taize via Iona rocks

I promise to write new stuff soon. Pinky swear. Until this crazy week is over, here's another repost:

http://michele-on-the-road.blogspot.com/2008/03/if-you-bring-me-one-problem-bring-me.html

So this one was a bit long to copy. It's one of my favorite stories. It's in the book. I promise it's true.

Aren't baby chickens cute?

So if cows calve, do chickens chick? What about goats? They've got to be kidding...

Reposts

2011-02-27T16:41:00.000-08:00

Three days ago I almost got carded at the reception after a conference. Yesterday I was told I couldn't be a day over 18. Today I was called "sweetie" by the male gas attendant. I suppose the short hair and eyeliner don't make me look older. The good thing is, I should be able to pick up 30 year olds when I'm in my 40s ;o).

McGill Students in Ottawa, ON.

In honor of the upcoming trip, I'm reposting a few oldies but goodies. Enjoy!

"Numbered Days"
(originally posted March 2008: reposted in honor of what would have been my gpa's 93rd birthday on February 28, 2011)

I think chicken noodle soup must be the universal cure for all aches and pains. Doña Concha, my house mom, had prepared a bowl for me, albeit an imported instant ramen noodle bowl, when I arrived home last night from a 3 day stint of surveying in the mountains. I needed the warmth and comfort because when I arrived, I found out my grandfather in Tennessee had passed away Tuesday night.

He would have been 90 yesterday. It's a strange feeling to lose someone so close to you when you're so far away from them. I knew it was coming. I had said goodbye and received his semi-lucid reply before I left. While in the mountains this week I was actually thinking about him. I imagine that growing up in rural Appalachian Tennessee in the 30's wasn't much different than the communities I've been in this week. Dirt roads, no running water, no electricity, and a lack of quality education and opportunities. One found pride in the deal made with one's neighbor, happiness in a too-young wife, and work wherever one could. Not much different than these mountain communities.

I doubt that my grandparents ever finished elementary school, or if they did, they never made it to high school. I often wonder what my grandfather would have been if he had been given an education and an opportunity. Though I suppose the series of events that led to my existence probably never would have occurred had he had those two things. Yet he seemed to get by well enough without. At least until the war.

I wonder what he would have been like had he heard a gospel of love and hope instead of a fear-filled, fire and brimstone gospel of do's and don'ts that was often preached in that area. Would it have helped him feel less guilty for being the only survivor in his foxhole on Iwo Jima? Would it have helped him cope with the stark contrast of life as a soldier in WWII and life as a farmer and factory worker from a now-under-a-TVA-lake town in Tennessee?

Foxholes and factories. Dirt roads, the Depression, and detrimental religious messages. I have wonder "what if?" I have to wonder "what if?" for those around me here.

And as I think about these things, I find peace in knowing that though there are several children in the communities I've recently visited in this same situation that my grandfather was in many years ago, they can have a chance. Perhaps. I find peace in the preachers who walk 3 miles each Sunday to tell of a message of life-changing hope (at least it's my hope that that's the message and not some fire and brimstone dogma). I find beauty in my roommate's role in procuring scholarships for children so they can have a shot at an education and a world of opportunities. I find hope in seeing so many dedicated Christians committed to making people and communities healthy in all aspects both here and elsewhere.

The funeral's tomorrow. My family will be there. I won't. But I find hope in Psalm 90:12-17 and realize that God knew the number of days my grandfather would live, and perhaps He knew that I would be in Honduras when the last day was counted. Triste? Of course. Tranquila? Yes.

Chicken soup and community development. It's a good start for a sad ending...

Comings and Goings

2011-02-25T20:26:00.001-08:00

So I'm starting to wonder why I'm going to Honduras. Well, I know why. Delta inadvertently refunded me all of my ticket to Israel which I have to spend before the middle of April. I wonder if I should come back sooner...if 2.5 weeks is too long. I've settled into a nice routine here in Nashville and have to say I may miss it. Dance lessons, French lessons, Spanish lessons, Dulcimer lessons. Can we say that I'm a nerd and am addicted to learning?

And they don't call Nashville the Athens of the South without reason. This week I've been reminded of the wonderful academic resources that exist here: I've met people that work firsthand with issues of global health and international educational policy, world class musicians, and experts in issues of mental health. I have to say that my job has even turned toward the better as the past two weeks I've spent time working on two topics I'm passionate about: school health and mental health. Did I mention that not only do I get to work on these issues but I also get to talk to people who can actually do something about them?

Though I miss going to the mountains, perhaps coming back to my roots isn't such a bad thing. Perhaps when all that we've grown in life is threatened to be cut down, coming back to our roots, the only thing left, isn't a bad decision. We'll see. For now I continue to walk that ever-undulating tightrope of my life as I try to seek balance between the spiritual and the intellectual sides of me and everything in between.

So I'll let you know over the next few weeks why I'm in Honduras. If nothing else, perhaps it's just a time when I can sleep in and breathe and start to write down all these thoughts I have on paper. We'll see...

Honduras, here I come. Nashville, I'm going to be back...at least for a little while...

To FB or Not to FB?

2011-02-20T18:42:00.001-08:00

Friends can be good. Publicity can be good. Sharing can be good. But sometimes there can be too much of a good thing. As of late I've been on and off of FB, our lovely social network that tries to connect the whole world. I've often thought about chucking the whole thing.

First, there's the trouble with making clean breaks with relationships that need to be broken. Second, there's phishing attempts (those emails you get when your email is sometimes picked up by a third party and they try to access your account). Third, there's the possibility of someone wanting to disable your account. Fourth, there's "unfriendings" and blocks. Fifth, there's more information about you than I'd like to know.

Regardless, my account is non-functional at the moment. I don't know if it will ever be functional again. I don't know if I want it to be. Perhaps I should go back to blogging and good ole' face to face contact. A book of faces; a face full of books. Reading and photo albums sound like a lovely way to pass an evening. No worries about identity theft or how "popular" I am. No pictures I feel obligated to see.

For now, call me or email if you'd like to contact me.

2 weeks til Honduras. Plane ticket is covered. If you'd like to help out with incidental expenses, please let me know.

Cheers and happy facebooking!

News

2011-02-14T15:25:00.000-08:00

"All the guys I like are married, gay, dead, stupid or play the banjo." That's why I'm sitting at my computer on Valentine's night...according to a bumper sticker I once saw.

My book is available for pre-order at UT Press: http://utpress.org/bookdetail-2/?jobno=T01471&authorsm=Kronick,%20Robert%20F.

I'm going to Honduras for 2.5 weeks in March to reconnect with those at PREDISAN.

I bought a dulcimer and am going to start taking lessons.

I still miss Asheville and wonder why I work in a cubicle I'm still trying to like.

My Affair with Aville

2011-01-17T16:17:00.000-08:00

While I'm sitting at the Grey Eagle, waiting for tonight's dance to begin, I thought I'd fill you in on all things good about Asheville, my favorite place to visit at the moment (even more so than Grindlewald, Switzerland or Papay, Scotland).

Here's a list of good things to do and see (in no particular order) while stopping through Aville:
1. Dance: There's lots of dancing in Aville. On Monday nights $6 will get you three hours of heart thumping, feet pounding, opposite gender-holding fun at the Grey Eagle. Stop by Warren Wilson College on Thursday night for a similar evening of contradancing. Swing, zydeco, and even Cape Breton style step dancing can also be found in the area.

2.Eat: OMG where do I begin? Some of my favorite places are:
The Chocolate Lounge (highly recommend the liquid truffles and lavender hot chocolate)
Salsas (anything here is good!)
West End Bakery (where else can you eat where the food is local, scraps are composted, and the use of solar powered electricity is above average)
RootsCafe (located inside the Grey Eagle)
12 Bones (two thumbs up from the president)

3.Hike: Lots of great hiking around here. Some of my favorites
Max Patch (just don't get stuck by lightning)
Mount Mitchell (the highest peak east of the Mississippi)
Graveyard Fields (go in the summer and take a bucket to pick blueberries)
Dupont Falls (not really a hike but great water falls)

4.Play: musicians abound in the region. Grab an instrument, find a group, and play! Every Friday night go to Pack Square (triangle) and join in the drumming circle

5. Speak: At least once a month you can vent your feelings at Asheville's Poetry Slam

6.Listen: Great local and national artists stop through town on a regular basis

7. Sleep: The Grove Park Inn is a cool place to see and if you stay there you'll be one of many famous and not so famous people who have done so.

8.Dress: In a town where yellow tights can be worn under blue dresses with purple suede ankle boots, anything goes (but please don't forget the deodorant!). Lots of cool vintage shops to augment your wardrobe as well as a stellar 3 story shoe store downtown.

9.Heal: Complementary therapies abound in this small town. Whether it's Reiki, yoga, acupuncture, herbs, or something else you're seeking, Asheville is sure to have it.

10. Tour: Home of one of the largest houses in the US, the Biltmore Estate is a must visit. The entrance fee is a bit pricey but includes admission to the winery and all of the other amenities of the estate.

Now will someone please tell me why I'm not living here?

Still Out

2011-01-15T14:52:00.000-08:00

Has it been a month since I last posted? I promise I'll catch up....soon...

Until then think about:

Freshly fallen snow
Close-knit communities
Joyful faces
Rhythmic feet
Lively music
Berries and flowers and all things spring....

Waxing Poetic

2010-12-14T07:24:00.000-08:00

I attribute this sketch/draft to cold weather, my boss's homemade Bourbon balls, attending Asheville's poetry slam a few weeks ago and a slow work day:

They said I'd find you
In a book, on a bench, in a building.
And the preacher in the pulpit proclaimed
The you could grant me my genuine desires,
Like a genie in a glass bottle.
If I sang, startling the silence, for salvation.

They said I'd find you
In a rigid, routine of religious
Kneeling, and knowing, and never...

And one day offering me
To empty myself beside you
On a seat, your visage etched
With wrinkles like the crags
In a rock I climbed in a desert.
Teeth in pearly rows, lips gating a smile.
Hands withered from work wrapped around mine,
Flesh on flesh, blood pulsing together
In holy communion I found you.
Love.
God.
There you were.

Pandora Recommendations:
My Morning Jacket
Patty Griffin
Ben Sollee

Book's Out

2010-12-13T07:10:00.000-08:00

You've all heard me blabber about my upcoming book about service learning.

Well....it's out.

Check the UT Press Spring 2011 Catalog and buy a couple of copies. I'll make about a soda's worth of change per book, so if you buy a few copies, I can take you out for coffee and we can talk about it!

Experiencing Service Learning
Robert Cunningham, Michele Gourley, Robert Kronick

If you'd like more information or know someone who'd like to use it, please email me and I can send you the appropriate information. I think it could potentially be a great resource (otherwise I wouldn't have added it to my to-do list during med school) so I'd love to see this used and read.

Thanks!!!

Alaska Bound

2010-12-07T07:18:00.000-08:00

"Alaska bound and I can't get home. Alaska bound and I can't get home. Alaska bound and I can't get home. Way down to North Carolina." (yes I just mutilated the lyrics to "Water Bound" it happens...).

More to come soon about the past few months (Asheville, Nashville, Pigeon Forge, DC, Georgia, Alaska). I'm looking forward to spending the holidays in one place and catching up on some overdue writing that has nothing to do with health policy or health planning.

Think warm thoughts, breathe cold air, eat well, and don't forget to dance.

Life

2010-11-17T19:36:00.000-08:00

What am I doing?

New Post to Come Soon

2010-10-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

I've left the mountain cities and healthy living for music city to write Tennessee's health plan...more to come soon...

Until then:

Eat local, dance often, and take time to look at the sky!

(PS I have 42 jars of jam at my house hand picked and hand packed by moi...if anyone needs a "local" supplier)

Missing the Mountains

2010-10-05T20:09:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving. A place I've called "home" or "lived in" on and off for the past 6 years. It's an unexpected place. One I'd never heard of and one I never expected to move to.

I came here sure of my "religion" and my "vocation" and I leave with uncertainty regarding both. I came here knowing no one, and now I think I leave with a least a few I can call "friend." I came here clueless about community and now feeling as if I don't want to leave the community I've found.

This place has given me a lot of heartache and has borne a lot of pain. Here I have cried, I've bled, I've been broken physically, mentally, and spiritually. This place has given me sacred sunrises, deep conversations, cherished moments of shared solitude, and the chance to be.

Here I have learned:

To dance

To appreciate the body

To appreciate the mind

To appreciate the soul

To appreciate the beauty in the skies above me and the food in the soil below

To value the culture in which I live, and the culture from which I come

To seek adventure in the daily

To never give up on one's talents...even if they don't fit your career:

-music

-writing

-making things

That eating a good meal alone is a poor substitute for eating a bad meal in company

Medicine doesn't equal health

The importance of an afternoon spent over soup discussing spirituality

The importance of an afternoon spent in creation

That my life is not defined by a three word religious title

The value of knowing one's neighbors

Mountains are therapeutic

Wide open spaces are necessary

To make space for the unexpected (events and people)

The value and strength of words

To choose wisely whom you listen to and what they say

The value of a wise person's words

That community is perhaps the root of all good

That life is about more than cheap food, flashy entertainment, and fancy shoes.

However, I have to admit, living in JoCy is becoming like trying to put on my favorite T-shirt...that I bought when I was 12. It may still fit, but it's not quite comfortable. There's not an intellectual challenge here for me...at the moment...but the rest of life is...well...quite comfortable.

I don't think I'll ever figure out Johnson City. There are still many days when I wonder if it was a good idea to move here and what I may have missed out on by being "here" instead of "there." But I guess what I can say is that, "I'm leaving." Goodbye mountains. I'll miss you.

"I put into Nashville, Tennessee, but you wouldn't even come around to see me
And since your headin' up to Carolina, You know I'm gonna be right there behind you." -Ben Harper

All Who Wander

2010-09-03T18:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers (if you exist and speak a language other than Chinese):

I'm still around...I've just been....well....as the title implies....on the road. It's been a lovely summer that has been filled with putting jam in jars and thoughts in my head. Things are slowly starting to sift out but I'm still not quite ready to make a meaningful post of the past few months.

I once saw the following quote on a dumpster in Alaska:

"Go out for adventure and come home for love."

After an adventurous past few years, I decided to stay "home," my home not being my physical birthplace but linked instead to the community where I have found a spiritual and emotional place to settle. Though I find it funny. By taking a loose vow of stability for the summer, I still managed to come across adventure: icy dips in waterfalls and streams, graceful dips on the dance floor, and late night dips into the jam jars (yes I'm a self-proclaimed berry addict!).

But there's been a common, somewhat unexpected theme throughout the summer which I hope to write about soon: Contradancing. No this isn't your auntie's clogging routine or your gym teacher's square dance fiasco. I liken it to church: only without the guilt, narcissism, and bad upholstery (maybe just bad dance attire). It has the same sense of community, music, and equality (I've danced with 85 yr old men, 45 yr old women, 15 yr old boys, doctors, musicians, business people, unemployed, Yankee Doodles, Dixie Chicks, and anything in between) coupled with a permission to play and to do so imperfectly. It's nice. Not to mention you inevitably find yourself on roadtrips to obscure places like Valle Crucis, NC and Marietta, SC.

I highly recommend it.

In the meantime, between do-si-dos and gypsy/swings, I'll leave you a quote or two:

"I would believe only in a God that knows how to Dance." Neitzsche

"Music begins to atrophy when it departs too far from the dance... poetry begins to atrophy when it gets too far from music." -Ezra Pound

HodgePodge

2010-07-06T22:04:00.000-07:00

The Things you Learn on the BBC:

Prozac excreted in the waste of humans is affecting our food chain. Shrimp ingest the chemical and are more prone to swim toward the light which leads to more "fish food."

Things you Learn on the Dance Floor:

Dancing for 2.5 hours in a type of dance that allows for reasonable boundaries leads to lots of laughs, lots of exercise, a sense of community and overall improved mood.

Combine the two aforementioned statements:

If you like shrimp cocktails, save the shrimp: stop the Prozac and go dance.

Things I learn on my blog:

Only people who write in Chinese read this. Is this true?

Sometimes it Pays More to Spend More

2010-06-23T20:19:00.000-07:00

I love EarthFare. It's our local, Asheville-based, version of Whole Foods. I've loved it ever since it opened a few years ago. I love it so much that Artie, the guy who works behind the coffee counter and raises goats on his property, expects me to stop by there every morning to pick up a 12 oz coffee ($0.99, $0.49 if you bring your own container) and doctor it up with free soy milk and agave nectar. I love it so much that I sent them a note of thanks. Here's what they wrote in reply.

"Hello Michele,

Thank you so much for your kind e-mail and support!

We are passionate about what we do, and committed to our Mission ; to feed and inspire the healthy person inside us all. We are also committed to eliminating childhood obesity in the communities we operate in. We too see and understand the effects of harmful ingredients in our food supply, which is why we are so passionate about getting folks on the journey to health. It is so important to hear from our customers, like yourself who appreciate our efforts and help us succeed. Again, we appreciate your support and feedback!

If you haven’t signed up for our weekly e-mails, please go to www.earthfare.com and enter your e-mail address at the bottom of the page. You can also log in to our site by clicking “start my health journey.”

Please let me know if there is ever anything we may help you with.

Have a wonderful and healthy day.

Kind regards,"

If only all grocery stores had this motto perhaps 2 out of 3 Tennesseans wouldn't be overweight. Sometimes it pays to spend a few extra pennies to support the local guy. Or perhaps nothing if you use their free coupons every week.

If We Are What We Eat

2010-06-10T16:18:00.000-07:00

"You are what you eat," says the old cliche. If this is the case then in the days of old we might consist of salad greens, grass-fed beef, and farm fresh eggs. Sadly, when I think of the composition of many Americans today it might look like a soggy Cheeto trying to stay afloat on a meat patty on a sea of soda.

I became interested in "health" food ironically while studying medicine, curious about how our body processes all the chemicals we ingest (if LSD can show up in our system years later and antibiotics from things we eat can show up in our urine then isn't it reasonable to assume that perhaps maybe we are what we eat?). Somehow the thought of putting something into my body whose ingredient list was longer than the ingredient list on a paint can, didn't sit well with me.

Since then, there's another component of food that isn't "health food" that doesn't sit with me either: the way "normal" food is produced. For a more complete description please see the following video:

Paying the Price: Migrant Workers in the Toxic Fields of Sinoloa

These 36 minutes tell a story. A story that begins in mountain villages like I served in in Honduras and ends on our plates in the name of cheap food.

Most see a bargain at the Super Discount Foods. I've come to see another casualty in the holy sepulcher that we call a supermarket. Aisles and aisles of neatly packaged boxes, caskets, labeled "cookies" "meat" "milk" and "eggs," the pretty facades hiding the ugly story behind the label. The labels with their litany of nutrition facts and ingredients don't display the dark, crowded conditions of the animals of the product or of the workers who labored, sometimes without family and sometimes without hope, to make the food.

So why is it that we see such casualties as a "deal?" Perhaps it's because we see food as a commodity, something to be consumed, something that comes in a box, something fast, something convenient. But what is food? Is food not the substance which sustains us? The substance by which we meet and share our lives with others?

....to be continued....

Embracing Lament

2010-06-07T20:29:00.000-07:00

Women at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem

"Suffering is not a negative in the Bible. It is a verb," he said with authority. And he had the authority to do so. John Perkins had lived a life peppered with suffering but the lines chiseled on his face were not those of bitterness but of determination and a commitment to a faith that was solid like a rock. Soon after he spoke those words, the lyrics to a popular song sung in childhood and in youth group flitted through my mind:

"Blue skies and rainbows and sunbeams from heaven are all I can see when my Lord is living in me..."

Oh the irony. Did the author of that song read a Bible with the book of "Lamentations" ripped out of it? Or maybe the verse about Jesus weeping (though it would be easy enough to overlook)? Perhaps he missed the few lines in James that followed the popular verse that talks about drawing near to God and he'll draw near to you (I wonder if anyone has ever mistaken that verse to think that God likes art studios...)?

Then again, I think we've all skipped over those texts in favor of more important passages about floods, loaves and fishes, and anything that fits in the 5 steps of our particular denomination's plan of salvation. But the verses exist. Lament exists.

As Emmanuel Katangole stated, reconciliation is not an achievement, program, or methodology. It is a journey. A long journey. And just as any of you who have hiked more than the few asphalt-covered feet from your car to the store, you know that the path isn't full of sunshine and daisies. Sometimes, even when we pass places where there should be daisies they won't be there. It's not the right season. The path may be broken. And as God equips us for the journey, he gives us lament to help us recognize, name, and traverse those broken places. Those places where the flowers should be blooming but aren't.

About this time last year, my dad and I were hiking in Acadia National Park. We were told the trail was "a little rough" but that the view was worth it. As we hiked, the trail was more than "rough." It was little short of a bouldering experience as we scrambled up the rocks and the trail grew steeper. We had to recognize and name the path "rocky and steep" or risk stumbling off the side of the trail that had been named as "a little rough." Though our name was unexpected, we continued our traverse until we reached the summit and rejoiced in the view spread out below us.

Lament is a gift. It steers our thoughts and emotions away from the denial of perfectionism (everything's great in life all the time for to admit otherwise would be calling myself a failure and I live in a failureless society), from overwhelming feelings of guilt (I'm such an awful good for nothing person), and from the temptation to whine and complain (Gee, Moses I think even baking bricks in Egypt would be better than bread sent from heaven!).

Just as our body sometimes needs physical emesis to purge the physical toxins, sometimes our souls need emotional/spiritual emesis of lament to purge the unseen toxins that have accumulated in our lives. Lament allows us to acknowledge the brokenness in our lives and the lives of those around us. It allows us to acknowledge that although we are insulated in our climate-controlled buildings and lives, that a real world still exists outside the boundaries of success and progress. From this acknowledgement we are then able to move forward from the pain and into the possibility of creating something new (Jeremiah 31:15-22).

So as Emmanuel stated in his talk on lament, let us learn to do the following:

1. To unlearn the numbness and privatization of suffering

2. To stand in broken places, places of exile.

3. To not offer cheap consolation but to name things as they are.

4. To learn when to say "enough is enough."

5. To practice lament as a discipline

6. And to not forget that lament and praise can go together, like peanut butter and jelly....or sunshine and daisies.

Let us praise. Let us lament. The gospel can be, but isn't always, blue skies and rainbows.

"They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. 'Peace, peace,' they say, when there is no peace." -Jeremiah 6:14

The Art of Reconciliation

2010-06-05T20:32:00.000-07:00

Painting in a gallery in Vieux Montreal

The Art of Reconciliation

A palette of fresh paint

and faded colors.

A canvas. Smudged,

with marks of beauty,

curves, bright circles,

half-drawn faces, subtle hues.

Erasures. Few straight lines.

Hanging from a cross

in the gallery of heaven.

It's All in a Name

2010-06-02T18:45:00.000-07:00

If I could share with you every nuance of the conference, I'd do so with joy. The songs, the laments, the scripture, the table conversations. But I can't. You're not here. Instead here is a brief post that reflects on something I mentioned in an earlier post in May.

As the story of reconciliation begins in the garden so does our story of the land for we cannot be involved in reconciliation without talking about land. The garden is where our story began, the story of man, formed from earth (and better translated as earthling), and his role as caretaker of creation. One of the first tasks God gave man was to name the other creatures. To name something is to domesticate it. Our names for things establish relationships with the things named. The description of a plant governs how we will relate to it and will differ based on whether we call it weed, flower, or strawberry plant.

And what does this have to do with reconciliation? Reconciliation is about how we relate. Our naming of something will or will not allow us to recognize something's integrity. So what is the vocabulary we should use when we talk about the world in which we live? How we name our relationships helps us reconcile our place in the world.

Words like "nature" and "environment" separate us from the world in which we live, but "creation" invites us to recognize that the world in which we live is also part of God's creation. Adam came from adamah. Yet isn't it strange that many who already use this word "creation" are also the ones destroying it? Is this not like saying "I love you" to your spouse or children right before you beat them?

We can take this a step further by recognizing that we can name an entire group of people to exclude them as children of God. Labels such as "Indians," "Jews," and "blacks" have all been used as justification to segregate and separate those made in the image of God from ourselves. Just last week while in an urban city in the US, my own misnaming perhaps led me to not treat a fellow creation of God as I should have. My surroundings had been named "dangerous neighborhood" and my fellow creation had been named "panhandler." Perhaps if these had been named "neighborhood where people different from me live" and my fellow creation had been named "war veteran" or "man who might not be handling his situation in life in the same way that I would" my interaction would have been different.

I'm amused that only a few weeks ago I wanted to eschew all labels in an attempt to free myself from boxes. Perhaps some labels are good, but let's name things in a way that reconciles us to each other, to the land, and to God.

Thought of the day: How do the names you assign to people, places, and things affect your relationships with them?

"We see with positive prejudice: every human being is a gift of God and has gifts to offer." Father Elizando

Growing in Reconciliation

2010-05-31T20:42:00.000-07:00

We come together from 27 states and 8 countries. We work with the alcoholics in Connecticut. We farm the land in South Carolina. We preach the gospel in Sudan. We are Baptists who read the Bible. We are Episcopalians who value liturgy. We are Mennonites who promote peace. We are Quakers who maintain silence. We are Catholics who promote one church. We are Evangelicals with energy. We are students. We are teachers. We are lay people. We are clergy. We are men. We are women. We are broken. We are healed. We are people.

Yet we are one. We come together. In a chapel. In a classroom. In song. In prayer. We share. Meals. Scripture. Time. Thoughts. Vision. Space. Lives.

We will separate. In the in between times for it is in those times when God often works. In our parting when we return to our lives and carry this message with us.

Yet we will remember. Man's story began in a garden. Man's process of reconciliation began in a garden. It is only fitting that tonight we began our story of working toward reconciliation in the gardens at Duke. We are members of the Duke Summer Institute 2010.

"Taste (experience) and see that the Lord is good... Seek peace and pursue it." -Psalm 34

Pondering Creation

2010-05-31T19:54:00.000-07:00

We were only a few feet from the top where a 360 view of jagged peaks awaited my mountain-starved eyes. My hiking partner, Steve, stopped suddenly and sat down by a rather non-descript bush. "What are you doing?" I asked him. "We're almost to the top!"

"Look," he replied and pointed to the bush. There weren't flames but hundred of orange butterfly wings danced in and out of the bush. In a calm voice he said, "Michele, I know there are mountains to see, but God made this bush...and these butterflies. Do you think he didn't put just as much effort into these tiny little wings as that massive peak? Doesn't he want us to appreciate all of his creation?"

I didn't know what to say. "Ummm. Sure."

My hiking partner had hiked alot of miles: the entire Pacific Crest and almost the entire length of Israel. I suppose when someone spends this much time on the trail perhaps one actually begins to appreciate all the things the God has created. While after a few moments of "butterfly appreciation" my steps and my gaze wandered up to the peaks, but Steve sat and stared at this seemingly insignificant bush of butterflies for at least half an hour.

From a small bush and some small insects I learned an important lesson that day: take time to appreciate God's creation. All of it. Even the insignificant parts.

And so I share with you some portraits of this creation so that you can appreciate it too. In our society where art is judged by beauty and personal taste and perfectionism reigns in the hearts of many, it's easy to rank and classify God's creation. However, I ask that as you meander through the following that you take each one as a separate incomparable work of divine art. Ponder the significance of each creation...and enjoy.

Need I say more? Do we not live on a gloriously created planet? Can we maintain such a gallery of creativity?

Man, the Land, and God

2010-05-24T19:43:00.000-07:00

Berry picker near Nome, Alaska

"I'm just a stupid drunk Eskimo," he said to me, his words slurring and his eyes about as open as mine were at this early morning hour of 3am. I didn't know what to say to him. He was right about being drunk and Eskimo , but I had no authority to label him as "stupid."

Though I didn't know it at the time, I'd say my patient was more intelligent than many of my twenty-something year old peers. Maybe he didn't have a bachelor's degree and couldn't tell me how to calculate the hypotenuse of a triangle or the significance of the date 1066, but he was Inuit, a people who had survived for years on a land that many would label as vast and barren. He had a degree in survival in community and stewardship of the land.

To live on such a daunting expanse of land requires a formidable community and a respect for man's and the land's limitations. And it is such a community that the Inuit developed- one that respected the animals with whom they lived in close company, following their migration habits, honoring their presence even after death, and instilling a culture of self-discipline, respect, and hard work that is necessary to survive in small, close-knit communities. It is a culture which inherently identifies itself with the creation that surrounds it.

"I don't have anywhere to go," my patient complained. He was right...and perhaps wrong. There aren't many places to go at 3am in Nome, Alaska. The bars are closed and 24/7 superstores don't exist. At the same time, he was surrounded by the land which had sustained him and his ancestors for centuries.

East Tennessee farmland

I, too, identify myself with the land. I am a farmer's daughter...rather, a farmer's granddaughter. Though he worked on souls during the weekend and worked on the soul of society during the week, somehow my grandfather managed to find time to work the soul of the land...300+ acres of it. Though I have my share of memories of video games and Saturday morning cartoons and other typical childhood memories of my generation, I also have plenty of memories associated with this piece of land of my grandparents.

I remember the softness of spring grass as I lay down in it, face to the sky, on a warm April day in one of the unused pastures. I remember the pungent smell of manure and feed and hay that would greet me every winter morning as I let my horse out to pasture to share with me in the greeting of a new day. I remember looking out on rows and rows of freshly-cut hay, like long tan caterpillars who had fallen asleep on the gently rolling land. I remember hearing the sound of milk glugging in the bottle as my new baby pet calf eagerly sucked it down. I remember the tart taste of a wild blackberry as it went inside my mouth instead of inside my bucket. For me, the farm was a sacred piece of space.

When my grandmother passed away, the land passed into other hands. I no longer had a place to "come home." Sure my parents' house was still around but that space which had given me so many memories and sustained my development was sold to someone else, someone who only saw it as "something to develop." They didn't know all of it's nuances and nor did they care. I shed tears over my grandmother's death but it's possible that I shed as many tears over the land. This small piece of earth contained a small piece of my soul.

Perhaps this is how the "stupid, drunk, Eskimo" felt. Maybe he saw Nome and the evolution of the traditional way of subsistence living into the modern society permeated by Western culture as a loss of his piece of sacred space. Perhaps he was drunk and Eskimo, but I wouldn't call him stupid. I would call him human.

I know what you're thinking, "Nice stories Michele but where are you going with this? Aren't you supposed to be blogging about your time at the Duke Divinity School Summer Institute?" That's exactly why these stories are here and why when I found out that the original seminar I had signed up for "Medicine, Faith, and Suffering" was canceled, I chose "Land, Covenant, and the Gospel of Reconciliation" for my seminar.

The Bible begins with the story of creation and man has always had an intimate relation (whether restorative or destructive) with the land. Though the story of creation continues to permeate the message of the Old Testament and the New, in many churches it somehow seems to be left in Genesis. Yet we cannot embrace the full message of the Gospel without acknowledging the world in which we live. I have personally experienced the joys of what the land can give and the grief that comes from it's destruction. I cannot imagine that I'm alone in this experience.

I have several days and several blog posts to explore this intersection of faith, the land, and humanity (and health) so I'll leave you with a question to ponder and my usual "random" quote.

What is your relationship to the land and how does that affect your relationship with God?

“I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods.” -Wendell Berry

Good Words

2010-05-16T13:26:00.001-07:00

I came across this quote from a friend of a friend:

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer." - Rainer Maria Rilke

It's been a few days of living this quote. Life's good. So are sunny days, runs in the park, drum circles, tulips, strawberry socials, and Montreal. I'm going to miss Hab town.

Out of the Box

2010-05-11T19:19:00.000-07:00

I love this picture. It's me c. Christmas 1985. I had just woken up and found "Santa's" gift for me under the Christmas tree in our new house. I think it does a great job of summing up who I used to be and who I've decided I want to become. This was a girl who religiously watched Knight Rider (enough to want a Knight Rider Big Wheel for Christmas), had her mom paint her finger nails with Revlon "Dragon Red" fingernail polish, and walked around with a big smile on her face (some of the time). This was the girl who routinely took her Big Wheel flying down a long cement sidewalk and caught air on its curb which stood as tall as about 10% of her total height at the time. A tomboy who took fearless risks yet still remembered her feminine charm with a smile and some red polish. I think I'm starting to find her again.

I think, until recently, this girl might have been put in boxes which society imposes on us: boxes of status, of career, of religion, of culture, and of everything that restricts us from becoming who God wants us to be. Yet, after spending some time in nature and spending almost the entire day at an art museum, I realize there are few straight lines in life not imposed by man and even fewer boxes. I also realize the enormous amount of creativity and diversity in nature and wonder why we don't allow ourselves to reflect that in our own lives.

So in a nutshell, I suppose I'm trying to say that I don't fit into a box. Please don't try to put me in one. I'd rather not be defined by a religious group, a specific career title, a culture or any of the restrictions that go along with those definitions. I can say that I'm a person created in the image of God, my parents gave me the name of Michele, I enjoy life and the many opportunities that it brings each day, and I like helping people create beauty from brokenness through whatever means that may be.

Could I say that I wish I had flown out of my boxes years ago? You bet! It'd make life a heck of a lot easier right now. However, I'm content at the moment and am wiser for my time in them. But don't think I'll be going back in anytime soon so please don't ask it of me. Maybe this decision won't leave me with a large house, a white picket fence, a nice car and 2.3 kids.

I hope what it will leave me with is a lifetime of great memories and obscure talents so that when I'm in a nursing home (God forbid I should ever go to such a place) I can use them to cheer up all my nursing home comrades. Then again, at some point in my life, it only took a modest house, some fingernail polish and three wheels to make me happy. Has life really changed that much?

So there you have it. Sometimes you not only have to think outside the box but also be outside. Unless you live in a warehouse, our God created a world that doesn't reside in a series of boxes. He gave us a world of beauty through diversity and uniqueness. So go. Challenge your boxes, get out of your warehouse and discover the beautiful, bright and creative world that exists around you.

PS: 1 out of 1 Chilean bus riders in Montreal agree.

"Life is like a box of sardines and we are all looking for the key." -Alan Bennett

Summer Reading List

2010-05-10T17:11:00.000-07:00

Hey guys or girls (I have no idea who reads this other than people who keep posting comments in Chinese)!

I'm slightly bored (yeah, I know I'm in a large city but the weather outside has been a bit frightful and the individual heating unit in my room is somewhat delightful...yeah...) so I thought I'd update the blog.

Lots of profound thoughts currently running through my head but I'll keep it light for the evening with a reading list to add to your Amazon queue this summer.

An even better idea would be to add these books to your queue and invite your friend Michele over once a week for a book discussion (good coffee and real croissants sil' vous plait). So without further adieu, here's some books you must add to your reading list (in addition to the ones in the previous posts):

Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl

If you read nothing else on my blog or ever, please go read this book. I just finished it. It's life changing.

I Shall Not Hate by Dr. Abuelaish

I heard him speak a week ago here at McGill. He's got an incredible story to tell accompanied by an incredible message. I can purchase an autographed copy for anyone who would like one (c. $30 CAD).

Reading Jesus by Mary Gordon

Yesterday, after services at Christ Church Cathedral here in Montreal, I heard an interesting discussion about this book which centers around a novelist's reading of the four gospels from a literary perspective, challenging her traditional Catholic upbringing.

Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner

An oldie but goody. In an age where friendships are transient and superficial, this is a gentle reminder of the depth and joy that comes from a long investment in the lives of others.

The World in Six Songs by Daniel Levitin

Some of you may be familiar with his work: This is Your Brain on Music. This McGill professor has recently released another book. I haven't read this one, but I'm sure I'll sing its praises afterwards.

The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck

Another oldie but a must read

Gilead by Marilyn Robinson

It came out a few years ago but still one of my favs.

Go spend money or check them out. You won't regret this decision :o)

Another Journey

2010-05-06T18:16:00.000-07:00

Two good things have happened today:

1) My book Experiencing Service Learning is officially going to press. The UT Press officially approved it this afternoon. Publication is pending final edits, but I expect it'd be within the next 9-12 months. If you're interested in purchasing a copy or know someone who might want to use it in their class, please let me know.

2) I was officially accepted to the Duke Divinity School Summer Institute. The Summer Institute, sponsored by the Duke Div School Center for Reconciliation consists of a week spent with a cadre of theologians, scholars, and those working in the US and abroad to bring one of the crux of the gospel message, reconciliation, to reality. This year is the inaugural year for a track on medicine/health and reconciliation. I haven't officially heard, but I expect this is the track I will attend. I anticipate that this will be an incredibly formative week and opportunity to take some of the things I've been learning this past year: spirituality, ecumenism, health, trauma, the arts and combine them through meaningful discussion into a possible plan or series of ideas that will help make people physically and spiritually healthier.

Though I have been given a scholarship to attend, I am still responsible for the remainder of the tuition and I will be missing a week of work and those earnings.

If you'd like to help cover some of the expenses of this week, please let me know.

If you'd like to hear some of the past lectures, go to iTunes U, look up "Duke" and "Summer Institute 2009"

It took artists and sculptors 14 years to complete the facade of the Duomo in Milan. It took me 6 years to bring my manuscript to publication. I'm learning that beautiful and meaningful things take time to develop. I feel like my experience in Montreal and at Duke and whatever else happens this year are all small bits and pieces of a wonderful palette of opportunities God has given me to create something beautiful.

Please continue to keep me in your prayers as this plan unfolds...

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live." Ecclesiastes 3:11-12

MMMMmmmm.

2010-05-06T10:43:00.000-07:00

Michele, Montreal, McGill, marimba, mountains, music, marshmallow cream pies... Ever noticed how the best things in life begin with M?

Things are going well here in Montreal. The course I am taking is wonderful and I think it's going to be another wonderful opportunity to learn about the interface of trauma, health, and .... well..... life. I don't have an incredible amount of time to recap the past 48 hours but I thought I'd share a funny clip from a conversation I had today and a recommendation of a book you should read.

The book is I Shall Not Hate by Dr. Abuelaish. This is a personal account of a Gaza physician who lost his 3 daughters in 2009 during a bombing and how he (very nobly) chose to respond to the situation. He also addressed using health as a means of diplomacy and promoting peace and reconciliation.

Perhaps the greatest part of cities is the random encounters. Since Montreal lies in the francophone region of Canada, I thought it might be a good idea to take a few French lessons while I'm here. While walking from the Anglican church after midday Eucharist, I passed by the office of a well-known language program. Being a curious person, I decided to stop in and see what courses they had. After filling out a short form, one of the representatives, originally from Syria as I learned in our conversation, sat down with me in his office and we began to talk about possible options of taking French lessons. During our conversation, I asked him about opportunities regarding the when/where/how of studying Arabic (another language I'm interested in learning).

Taking me completely off guard, he responded, "Well, you could date me." (C'est moi?)

(I sincerely appreciated his forthrightness regarding his interest in me especially considering that his American counterparts' expression of interest is usually a better kept secret that the army's next strategic reconnaissance mission in Afghanistan. Then again, after listening to a series of lectures recommended to me by a friend, one shouldn't date unless they plan to marry within a year and unless they're certain that they could know this about their date within 3-4 months. Sigh. Dating. I think getting through medical school was an easier process. Anyone up for starting a chapter of non-Catholic nuns?)

(could dating be considered a means of diplomacy and promoting peace and reconciliation in the Middle East?...wait...dating doesn't exist in...)

Taking the sage advice of the recent series of lectures I had heard and realizing that I probably wouldn't know whether or not I wanted to marry a language representative from Montreal within three to four months (not to mention two weeks) I responded, "Yeah, I'm not sure that'd be a good option."

He was quick. "Then you should look for an Arab guy in....where did you say you were from?"

"Tennessee," I replied.

"Right, Tennessee."

(Do you know how many Arabs live where I do? Unless I'm interested in the 50 something year old married Egyptian attending or perhaps the random IM resident....)

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to be feasible."

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "So what do you think about the French lessons we offer?"

"Let me think about it," and I excused myself politely and walked out and back to my apartment where one of my roommates (after hearing about my incident) gave me an old French book he had used in class. "Here, I think this might help."

Men...an M word I'm still trying to figure out....

In the meantime, I think it's time to go explore some more of Montreal....

Early Morning Musings

2010-05-04T03:15:00.000-07:00

Hey gang (whoever you are)!

I blame this post on early morning flights out of Tri-Cities. I can't complain. The sun is rising over the hills surrounding the airport (6 gates) and casting a myriad of rosy hues on the morning sky darkened by a few lingering rain clouds. I'm finally adjusting to small town life. I've learned the key to surviving in a small town is:

1) finding a town that has a reasonable appreciation for arts, culture, and academia
2) connecting with the people

The #2 point has become evident in the past few weeks. Last week while teaching Pilates at the gym, I was chatting with one of my students who informed me that there's a local community band which hosts open rehearsals. After attending said rehearsal, I picked up the number (from a former professor who also taught me as a first year medical student) of a guy in the area who teaches percussion lessons (who also happens to be the principal percussionist of a regional symphony nearby). Last weekend one of my river guides on our kayaking "final" trip down the Nolichucky is a surgeon that I scrubbed in with as a third year medical student. This morning I parked my car for free at the church across the street from the airport after my friend told me that the pastor welcome travelers to use the church's parking lot.

Life's a lot about who you know and as the links continue to expand between who you know, you learn never to burn bridges. However, sometimes you have to leave a small town for the big city as I am this morning. I'm off to Montreal for what I think will be an exciting course: a chance to learn about how trauma and suffering can affect those community links and our relationships with others. If you'd like to follow along, you can read the following books:

Social Suffering

Understanding Trauma

To those of you in Nashville, my thoughts and prayers are with you. Looking forward to keeping you all updated!

True Spirituality

2010-04-28T18:40:00.000-07:00

So I thought I was done posting for awhile. Then I went to class today and realized that today's discussion is worth a read by many. Here goes a feeble attempt to recreate a worthwhile discussion:

We began the class with a discussion of Henri Nouwen's book "The Return of the Prodigal Son." In this book, Nouwen places himself in the role of each character in the story: the prodigal son, the dutiful son, and the father. One of the comments that came from this discussion was the lack of joy in the life of the dutiful son (who had seemingly done everything right) and his unwillingness to participate in the joy of his brother's return.

Oftentimes we, too, attempt to "do the right thing" but fail to nourish our souls with one of the essential fruits of the Spirit: joy. Perhaps this is because we come from a society that applauds individualism and teaches us to be each others competitors. We would never think of not rejoicing with our young daughter or son or niece or nephew or brother or sister's moment of joy upon achieving something (even if it is just a piece of refrigerator art), yet when a fellow brother or sister of the body of Christ triumphs or rejoices, we find tendrils of jealousy and roots of bitterness sprouting up among our thoughts and our heart.

It is easy to join peers in a festival of complaints about life's woes and hard knocks, but how often do we share in each others' joy? Yet if we place ourselves in the role of the father, he is joyful despite the tragedy of his sons and shares in the joy of others. Perhaps we should practice the discipline of remembering to be like the father and share not only in suffering but also in joy. If God rejoices when we rejoice, should we not rejoice in each others' rejoicing because God rejoices, also?

It isn't necessary to be joyful to allow others to rejoice. A classmate recounted the following example: She has a good friend who is always swinging a golf club. She finds this to be a very annoying behavior but doesn't put her friend down or discourage his action because she can tell that it brings him joy to swing the club. Last weekend I visited my nephew. We were at a science museum and he wanted to play with the boats in the water....over and over and over again. After about the second time I was quite bored with the activity but did I tell him to stop playing and quell his joy? Of course not.

Sharing in each others' joy protects us from the self-absorbed, jealous, narcissistic attitude that society cultivates within us and a road that leads to perfectionism. It keeps us from sacrificing the bonds of relationship with each other in attempt to "one-up" each other and with God because of envy.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

During the entire class we have been discussing spirituality and ways to foster spirituality in day to day living through disciplines such as prayer, hospitality, lectio divina, solitude, service, reconciliation, etc.. But what is spirituality? For many of us, the term "spiritual,""spirituality," or "life in the spirit" conjures up the idea that we have to do a bunch of stuff in the right way to somehow be closer to God. The more we do, the better a person we are. However, life isn't about doing. It's about paying attention and being aware of what God is doing around us and finding ways of plugging ourselves into that which already is.

We closed with the following story:

A novice went out to visit the desert fathers and asked the following question:
"What can I do to become more spiritual, to become closer to God?"
The fathers answered him:
"You can only do as much to become more spiritual as you can to make the sun rise."
Discouraged, the novice replied, "Then what is the purpose of the disciplines of prayer, worship, scripture reading, fasting, etc...?"
"It is to make sure you are awake to see the sun when it rises."

And so it is with our lives. The spiritual disciplines cultivate within us an awareness of God's presence so that we realize communion is more than bread and wine, baptism is more than water, a painting is more than paint and canvas, that a shared meal is more than food, and the human touch is more than touch. Instead each of these has the potential to draw us into deeper relation with God. In fact, there isn't anything in God's creation that can't be changed and used to draw us into deeper relation with Him.

In a society where we are encouraged to be endlessly distracted, the spiritual disciplines draw our attention to see what God is doing in us, around us, and through people. So let us not lead lives that consist of one distraction after the other. Go. Pay attention. Be filled with joy and be blessed.

Almighty God, Father of all mercies,
we your unworthy servants give you humble thanks
for all your goodness and loving-kindness
to us and to all whom you have made.
We bless you for our creation, preservation,
and all the blessings of this life;
but above all for your immeasurable love
in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ;
for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.
And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies,
that with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise,
not only with our lips, but in our lives,
by giving up our selves to your service,
and by walking before you
in holiness and righteousness all our days;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit,
be honor and glory throughout all ages. Amen.

-Book of Common Prayer

More (late night) Musings

2010-04-27T22:13:00.001-07:00

Sometimes our perception of the Kingdom of God is like a building with a smiley face and a scary french fry waiter outside...

I blame this late night muse on singing too much scripture at Adoration and realizing I would have to say goodbye to such an incredible service for the summer. Perhaps pieces of heaven will be like that...the church singing to God what God has already communicated to us and sharing in the body and blood of Christ, broken and poured out for us. Thanks be to God.

So I forgot to include a key piece in my last post (earlier today...or yesterday...):

I think one of the best (and perhaps most difficult) lessons I've learned from this class is that the neat little checklist of rules that I was nurtured on as a young Christian doesn't really exist. When one takes the approach of applying the gospel to every aspect of life, of trying to have God's kingdom come, it makes living out the gospel a bit messy. It also provides a wonderful opportunity to exercise our God-given creativity in a joyful way to share Him with the rest of the world.

Example:

A "Christian rule" of not drinking when applied from this new perspective turns into a principle of "I won't drink enough (or perhaps not at all) such that my behavior is inhibited in such a way that might hurt my relationship with another human being."

A Christian rule of being at a church every time the doors are open turns into a desire to fellowship with the body of Christ with a realization that situations or people may come into your life that give you an opportunity to glorify God which may conflict with being at a particular physical place.

A duty of serving others such as cooking a meal at a homeless shelter turns into an opportunity to create meaningful space for many people to share a meal, and thus share their lives, with each other.

And perhaps the messiest change is that our life at home mirrors our life outside. It is no longer enough to run our checklist in the home of: "I don't use drugs, I don't steal, I don't lie, I don't sleep around, etc."
It now becomes: "Did I do the dishes in such a way to ease the burden of my fellow man or do I find joy in doing laundry because I am lifting the burden of another or did I complain and rend the soul of one of my housemates over a piece dirty unrended cloth?" By no means am I saying create a new, obsessive perfectionist checklist. Just perhaps a new way of looking at things.

And in this manner, the importance of large over-arching principles are balanced by the attention to the small details in life. Life then becomes less of a checklist and more of a question of "How can I bring God's kingdom to earth today and to my fellow man?" Clear cut and easy to define? Probably not. Exciting. Probably so.

It's a new discovery I've just made...I'm eager to test it out...

Musings and Montreal

2010-04-27T13:16:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago I promised you faithful readers a weekly update from my "Spirituality and Everyday Life" class. Obviously that hasn't happened, and tomorrow marks the final day of the best class I never officially took. It's been an incredible journey of learning that the gospel is not confined to a series of misaligned proof texts; rather it is a wonderful corpus of God's communication with mankind. We've traversed the various expressions of what it means to live out the gospel: in the quotidian details of life and the major decisions, in solitude and in community, in prayer and in speech, in hospitality, in times of land disputes and times of shared space, in times of shared meals and in times of interaction with those with whom you seem to share nothing in common at all, in times of silence, in times of reconciliation, in liturgy and lectio divina, in the sacraments and in the mundane tasks, in contemplation and in celebration.

Perhaps one day I'll try to post a brief synopsis of each book. For now, intend to add the following books to your Amazon queue and prepare for some lovely reads (and perhaps discussions around a shared meal of soup):

Streams of Living Water Richard Foster
Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of the Gospel Luke Timothy Johnson
Paul, the Spirit, and the People of God Gordon Fee
A Testament of Devotion Thomas Kelly
The Way of the Heart Henri Nouwen
Sacred Reading: The Ancient Art of Lectio Divina Michael Casey
Praying the Psalms Walter Brueggemann
New Seeds of Contemplation Thomas Merton
How to Become a Saint Jack Bernard
Discipleship Dietrich Bonhoeffer
There is No Future Without Forgiveness Desmond Tutu
We Belong to the Land Elias Chacour
The Return of the Prodigal Son Henri Nouwen

These are roughly in the order we read them (Foster's book was integrated throughout the course as we discussed the various "streams").

As for me? My passport is pining for use so I'll be flying to Montreal next Tuesday for a couple of weeks to take a course on. ? Yep. Trauma and Recovery. I've become fascinated by the concept of reconciliation and the role trauma plays in keeping God's children from reconciling themselves to each other and to Him. I'm also hoping this will be a much-needed time for reflection, perhaps a re-read of some of the aforementioned books, and a time of discernment for future plans (please don't ask me about them...and I'll try not to ask you about when your next job change, date, move, marriage, haircut, educational opportunity, etc. will occur). However, prayer is always appreciated, and I should be blogging/updating during this time.

But anyways...speaking of reading, I have a stack of policy papers and a Nouwen book that are begging to be read before 8am tomorrow morning...time for some R&R in the hammock...

Go. Read. Reflect. Reconcile.

“Have compassion for everyone you meet, even if they don’t want it. What appears bad manners, an ill temper or cynicism is always a sign of things no ears have heard, no eyes have seen. You do not know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets the bone.” -Miller Williams

Life in My Own Backyard

2010-04-21T00:42:00.000-07:00

Roan Highlands

The past few weeks have reminded me that sometimes the best trips are the ones in your own back yard-the ones that happen simply because you live there and you know people and you just...well...are present. Johnson City isn't the most well-known area on the map...not even close...but the past few weeks have reminded me of why I sometimes acknowledge the "love" part of my love-hate relationship with this community. Here's a quick rundown in no particular order because it's ridiculously late (or early depending upon how you look at it):

1. Backpacking Carver's Gap to 19-E. Do it. Even if you're not a backpacker.
2. Watching clouds form while laying in a meadow at 6,000 ft up and having a 360 view of your "community."
3. Playing with a delightful lesser-known Celtic band and having a personal tutorial on how to play the bodhran (I'm not in favor of drums I have to hold with my armpit).
4. Dr. Kenneson's Spirituality and Everyday Life class at Milligan. Need I say more?
5. Having the opportunity to film and share stories of how one person can make a community different.
6. Washing each others' feet.
7. Adoration. Be there. Hopwood. 9pm. Tuesday nights.
8. Scratch's Pizza
9. Planting seedlings
10. Finding an unexpected waterfall in an unexpected park while hiking unexpectedly in flats and dress pants
11. Biking "up" the Creeper Trail
12. Singing Adoration songs on the Creeper Trail
13. Laurel Falls
14. Contra dances
15. Shared meals
16. Sunrise service
17. Front porches
18. Drinking hot lavender chocolate
19. Pilates
20. 6:45 cycle classes
21. Being trapped underwater in a boat on purpose and learning not to panic (kayaks...don't worry).
22. Country roads and country drives
23. Wildflowers
24. Appalachian sunsets
25. Moonshine on a campfire

Laurel Falls

Appalachia's not a bad place to be. At least not in the spring....

Almost on the Road

2010-03-27T17:34:00.000-07:00

new post to come soon with new updates....for now...here's a poem a friend shared with me today while eating lunch on a remote mountain ridge in East Tennessee:

Banyas, Israel

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
wich is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

-ee cummings

Create Your Own Residency

2010-03-14T17:35:00.000-07:00

"God Creates" original work on rocks at St. Columba's Bay, Iona.

When I was an undergraduate student a program existed (which I didn't find out about until it was too late) called College Scholars. It was basically a "create-your-own major" program with the requirement of a culminating senior project. I wish residency could be that way. I supposed Family Med is in a sense but even there there are several restrictions. If I could create my own residency it would look something like this (in no particular order):

1 month Developmental/Behavioral Pediatrics
1 month Orthopedics
3 month child psych (outpatient-maybe inpatient)
3 month adult psych (outpatient-maybe inpatient)
1-2 months psychotherapy/trauma/PTSD
1-2 month Infectious Disease (child/adult)
2-3 months Surgery (General/Plastic/Trauma)
3 months Emergency Medicine
1 month Wilderness Medicine
1-2 months Adult Outpatient Medicine
1-2 months Occupational Medicine (maybe agricultural medicine)
2 months Quality Improvement
2-3 months Preventive Medicine
1-2 months School Health
1 month Critical Care
8 months Away Electives

If anyone could find me such a wonderful schedule, I'd give you half of my first year salary (or maybe just very nice publicity instead...)

Sigh...

The Universal Language

2010-03-07T17:39:00.000-08:00

During this Lenten season I have another confession to make: I have a pet that I don't feed and that I don't take to the vet. He's real. He's orange. He's fat. And he's not mine. My neighbor's cat, Garfield, loves to remind me to practice the gift of hospitality by showing up on my doorstep at will and demanding to become part of the household (if only for a brief period of time). It's a win win situation. He continues to believe in the delusion that he owns every house on my street and I get to have a warm ball of fluff to pet that doesn't need food (and no kitty...you're not allowed to eat the birds or the rest of Sarah's Belgian chocolates...).

But confessions aside, lately I've been pondering the value of music as a means of healing. After singing John Bell's "I Will Arise" in choir practice today, I couldn't help but think of how all the broken families in the world might react to such a moving hymn. Having spent 4 years of my life locked in the halls of medical academia, I realize the value of what the majority of us think of as medicine. However, I can't help but think that perhaps there is something more to health. What would Haiti look like if we sent not only containers of medical supplies and physicians but also choirs and perhaps musicians? In a place coping with the tragedy of loss, could not something be gained by the joining of several human voices in emitting the universal language: music?

While the spoken word is powerful, there seems to be something about singing that trumps the normal voice. For example, reading the Psalms alone is one thing. Reading the Psalms out loud to a group is another. Singing/chanting the Psalms in community is...well...there are no words. I dunno. I like music. Music crosses all languages and ethnicities (though Guatemalan marimba players are not impressed by young American girl's techniques). It unites. I daresay it heals. I think its something worth investigating. Prokofiev instead of Prozac? It's a possibility.

I Love One Liners

2010-03-06T19:31:00.000-08:00

"So, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Only for the blind."

Smile. Do Good. Someone loves you.

Chapter 13: The Devil is god

2010-03-01T18:46:00.001-08:00

photo of The Good Samaritan from Abbey in Iona

So I promised you an update on the class I'm taking. Here it is in the form of my posting regarding Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation:

Wow. What a wealth of wisdom to unpack in these 200+ pages of Merton's book. I think each chapter has enough material to lend to a discussion as many books I've read.

Perhaps having grown up in the buckle of the Bible belt where several notches think the other notches are only suited for a "destiny of fire and brimstone" and where crossing a street in a town where all types of humanity intersect could lead to a confrontation about one's salvation, this chapter resonated with me. I fear that many well-meaning churches, intent on proclaiming the truth and a personal Lord and Savior, may be in fact more aligned with an unintended worship of the devil through an unhealthy preoccupation with sin and an "obsession with evil," as Merton states.

With so much focus given to avoiding sin, one does seem to run a risk of becoming an "unconscious hater of other men." I cannot count how many times that I have heard those who call themselves "Christians" remark pridefully about the heathen of a certain country, the evilness of those who belong to a certain political party, or the right that one group has to annihilate another in the name of faith. Though I know our Savior often spoke strongly. I can scarcely see him carrying a big stick ready to beat someone over the head in the name of abolishing evil.

And if one follows this brand of philosophy, this obsession with evil, and stands under an umbrella of exclusivity in which he/she is right as indicated by the "nice warm glow" inside or the title of the group of Christians to whom he/she belongs, it seems that one may very likely become complacent with his/her life and not actually strive to achieve those characteristics which Christ taught such as agape love, mercy, patience, gentleness, etc. I find it ironic that places such as Koinonia, an interracial community that sought to live out these characteristics, were often attacked and berated during the racial conflicts of the 50's and 60's by those who called themselves Christians. My grandfather was asked to leave the church he preached at (which ironically is the one I attended for much of my life) because he tried to integrate a "colored" congregation down the road.

Though the acknowledgment of evil and sin is perhaps necessary, does it provide us a banner big enough to allow us to act however we please based on our perception of sin/evil's existence in the world?

"We get tired of this faith that does not do anything to change reality. It does not take away our anxieties, our conflicts, it leaves us prey to uncertainty. It does not lift all responsibilities off our shoulders...It does not thoroughly convince us that God is satisfied with us, or even that we are satisfied with ourselves." I am intrigued by this comment and cannot help but wonder if much of what Americans call Christianity cannot be summed up in these few statements.

Perhaps in our attempt to eradicate evil, we have unintentionally cultivated more evil within ourselves...

From Monks to Mardi Gras

2010-02-27T16:26:00.000-08:00

During this Lenten season I have a confession to make: I like to watch people. My favorite and least favorite job during high school was working for the Grand Ole Opry. While I hated staring at a cubicle wall as I tried to handle customers who insisted that their names should be aligned on the program with the Opry greats, I loved sitting in the new mall and being paid to watch people.

Ok so not only do I like to watch people, I like to speculate about their lives, imagine them as kids, wonder where they are coming, and guess where they are going. Yesterday, while sitting at a diner in New Orleans, I couldn't help but wonder about the life of the matronly waitress that brought me a small cup of gumbo, her hands like weathered ebony and her skin graced with the wrinkles of the stress of life.

I also like to think. Alot. Perhaps too much. Today as I was watching people traverse the quaint streets of the French Quarter, New Orleans I couldn't help but let my thoughts meander to where I was last week: praying with monks at St. Meinrad, Indiana. What a juxtaposition of images that followed as I recreated the scenes of the monastery in my head-serene and silent-while in front of me mimes bounced and bumped to their boombox and a girl planted a kiss on the cheek of her partner as they strolled across the street. I suppose such a juxtaposition isn't a strange event. Sometimes I feel as if my life is one great juxtaposition.

Spending time in places such as monasteries leaves me feeling satiated in my soul. Yet, I find my thoughts wandering during prayers, straying to the next task at hand, pondering the lives of those clothed in black (did I mention I like to watch people?). This week as I listened to lectures from the relationship of psoriasis to cardiac disease (really...who comes up with such topics), presented my own lecture about the nutritional status of children in rural Honduras, and watched every size and symbol of humanity intersect on the streets of New Orleans, my mind rested in a happy place of fullness. Yet, I lacked that full sensation in my soul that I had experience the week before. I suppose it will always be a struggle-balancing the intellectual with the spiritual. Can a balance ever be achieved? I dunno. For now, I suppose I will oscillate from a monk-conducive environment to a Mardi Gra-celebrating place.

Soup for the Soul: The Living Jesus

2010-01-21T12:25:00.000-08:00

"Let our sons in their youth be as grown-up plants, and our daughters as corner pillars fashioned as for a palace." Psalm 144:12

Coming soon...

Back in the Classroom

2010-01-13T17:08:00.000-08:00

So...I couldn't resist....

After graduating less than a year ago, I find myself back in the classroom. Rather than a typical classroom of fiberglass desks, powerpoints, and heavy textbooks, I find myself in different settings. A quiet pew or sitting around a kitchen table, reading well-known 20th century theologians and the book of common prayer, and participating in lively discussions instead of copying powerpoints.

I'm auditing a class at Milligan called "Spirituality and Everyday Life." 15 weeks. 15 books. 15 simple shared meals of soup and bread. ~15 students. 3 hours per week. A side trip to a monastery. Some of my friends have said this was the best class they ever took while at Milligan. It's the only one I've ever taken. We'll see. It should be fun. I'll keep you posted.

Honk Honk Rattle Rattle Rattle Crash Beep Beep!

2010-01-08T15:04:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the most interesting part of traveling to other places is the opportunity to take public transportation. Here are a few stories from a recent (and much overdue) trip to visit some friends in Costa Rica:

We had just entered the taxi, bound for downtown San Jose, and per usual were chatting in English. Perhaps feeling left out of the conversation, to our surprise, the taxi driver suddenly began speaking in English as well. He asked the other person in our taxi, a middle-aged lady:

"What is your name?"

(I refrained from blurting out, "What is your quest?")

Even more to my surprise, the other passenger responded, "My name is Elizabet."

The taxi driver began to chuckle and said "How are you?" and I couldn't help but join in the laughter.

"Thank you very much!" he said. Then he proceeded to tell us that he spoke several languages, counting each one on his finger.

"Spanish, English, German, and Nica."

(Nica I thought? Did I miss an opportunity in college? Oh wait, I get it. Nica as in Nicaragua....)

By this time we had arrived at our destination, a swank restaurant in downtown Chepe known for its international fare.

"Thank you very much!" our taxi driver said again.

"Your quite welcome!" I replied.

On the taxi ride to the airport:

"So where did you learn Spanish?" the driver asked.

"It's kind of a long story," I replied and then proceeded to tell him about the mixture of classes and cultural experiences that had led to my fluency.

"And how old are you?"

"How old do you think?"

"I'm terrible at these questions."

"Just guess."

"Um..23?"

"Almost. 27."

"Really? Do you have a boyfriend?"

(Does jumping from age to relationship status constitute tangential speech?)

"No."

"Really? 27 and no novio?"

(Just because I live in Appalachia and visit Latin America doesn't mean I have to be married with three children by the age of 27)

"So what do you think about guys who are 30?"

"I think they're guys."

"Well...if you need a novio, I'm available."

(Hmm..I'll have to add that to my potential suitors list: 30 year old Costa Rican taxi driver).

"You can also say anything to me. What's said here stays here."

(Wow. Not only do I get a discounted fare to the airport, but I also get a free counselor to boot. What a deal!)

Not wanting to pass up the offer for free advice (you get what you pay for), I chose my question carefully.

"So what's the best type of ceviche?"

"Ceviche?" he responded, as if he expected a question like whom should I marry, etc.

"Yes, what's the best type of ceviche?"

"Sea bass," he replied. "Nothing else. Don't eat tilapia. You might as well eat raw dirt."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Sometimes life's more interesting from the back seat of a cab.

Another Good Read

2009-12-09T16:17:00.001-08:00

Here's another one to add to your wish list:

All Saints: Daily Reflections on Saints, Prophets, and Witnesses for our Time by Robert Ellsberg. I don't really believe in saints, but I'm fascinated by what people do with the word of God and others' responses to their actions. This book, to be read in daily increments or several entries at one sitting, is a conglomeration of some people who've lived out the gospel in incredible life-changing ways and others who may have had mental illnesses disguised by religious pursuits.

At any rate, it's an interesting cross-section of humanity from the time of Christ to present day from all corners of the globe. engaged in meaningful or meaningless acts that at least added them to the roster of the saints.

Read This

2009-12-08T16:45:00.000-08:00

Check out "The Wisdom of Judaism" by Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins. If we could incorporate half of these priniciples into many "Christian" congregations I can't think of how the world would be. Highly recommend it. Shalom!

My Personal Statement

2009-12-03T17:24:00.000-08:00

So here's my personal statement. It may be too late for this year...

"I had just removed my hiking boots, dusty from the trail, flexed my scarred ankle, and looked up and saw the following quote inscribed on the wall of a hostel in a small alpine village in Switzerland: “Never give up on something you can’t go a day without thinking about.” I had traveled to Switzerland on my return to the United States after taking a course this past summer at Hebrew University in Jerusalem about trauma and resilience. Though some may say that trauma is just a state of mind, as a medical student I had seen the physical and social effects of trauma in the lives of my patients and their families. I had seen the effect of trauma on my own family as my grandfather struggled with PTSD after serving on Iwo Jima in World War II. I wanted to know more. For two weeks, I worked with psychologists, psychiatrists, and educators as we learned about the significant role trauma often plays in a person's overall well-being. Additionally we learned about ways to build resilience and means of coping in both individuals and communities in order to prevent poor mental outcomes after traumatic events. The course confirmed that mental health was the “something” that I couldn’t give up thinking about.

I decided to become a physician after seeing the physical needs of patients while on a mission trip to Honduras the summer before entering college. During college this interest was heightened while working as a volunteer school nurse at a Title I school. Providing only basic first aid and with no means of prescribing medications, I spent most of my time putting band-aids on cuts, giving bags of ice for headaches or reassuring the students that their tummy would feel better. Sometimes their problems would seemingly resolve with a coloring book or an ear that would listen to their problems at home. Other times they needed a medical intervention that I could not prescribe. Working with these children for three years exposed me to the psychosocial issues that often underlie physical disease.

Upon entering medical school, though I had entered with the intent of learning how to address the physical needs of underserved populations, I was continually reminded of the role that mental health plays in our overall well-being and the many factors involved. Some of these reminders included a man in the psychiatric unit who attributed his alcoholism to his parents’ divorce when he was a child, a mother at a rural Appalachian clinic whose chief complaint was a desire to have her back pain alleviated but whose wrists showed the physical signs of abuse, an Inuit woman in the emergency room in Alaska who was being treated for multiple injuries following an ATV accident but who cried out “Don’t abuse me!” and whose breath smelled of alcohol, and a visit to an alcohol and drug treatment center in Honduras while conducting research on health and nutrition in children. Though I had entered medicine to treat the physical needs of patients in underserved communities, I was beginning to realize that many of these physical needs were dependent on mental health.

Realizing that the health of an individual depends on the health of his or her environment and community, I decided to obtain a master’s in public health and also interned at the Tennessee Department of Health to learn about the role policy and workforce play in the provision of healthcare. Realizing that many issues relating to mental health stem from events that occur in childhood, I sought to receive ample training in pediatrics and child development while as a medical student, focusing on using schools as a means of promoting health.

Finally, as I began to enter the match last year, I dislocated my peroneal tendon, and the subsequent surgery precluded me from continuing my medical education. Though a hindrance, going through the process of surgery and recovery exposed me to the many factors that lead to healing. For me, congenital laxity in my tendon predisposed it to dislocation. My own behaviors, hiking and playing intramural sports, had possibly exacerbated the problem and led to the eventual dislocation. Non-medical intervention, physical therapy, was tried to improve the problem, but eventually surgery was a necessity. After the intervention, I learned of the importance of other supporting factors that contributed to my healing such as having family members to take care of me and transport me to appointments, having medical insurance that covered my treatment, attending physical therapy sessions, and avoiding activities that might lead to reinjury while my tendon was still healing.

As I was recovering from surgery, I began to think that mental health could be approached in a similar manner: observing predisposing factors and behaviors that could lead to mental illness, recognizing when non-medical and medical interventions were necessary, and ensuring that the necessary supportive measures were in place to aid a person in the recovery process.

I am currently looking for a program that will allow me to learn and participate in a comprehensive approach to the diagnosis and treatment of mental illness as well as investigate the preventive side of mental illness through such means as policy; education; community initiatives through already established groups such as schools, religious organizations, or other social establishments; and resilience-building activities on both local and global levels. I am looking for a residency program whose “something” is also mental health.

Cess

2009-12-01T19:44:00.000-08:00

We all have it. Those moments in our lives that make us feel inferior. I recently heard that the trauma, the vileness in our lives, is like an obligate anaerobe. Once it is brought to the surface, it cannot survive. Yet, our society teaches us to stifle the thoughts and feelings that long to escape. How do we bring them to the surface when our church and environment tells us to deal with it, pray more, or just keep it under wraps?

I also heard recently that many behaviors such as having multiple sex partners, alcoholism, and other unhealthy behaviors stem from a lack of feeling connected. A desire to be loved, to be heard and perhaps a desire that was never fulfilled as a child. A church that based its doctrine on rules and rituals leaves many spiritually trapped and emotionally lacking.

With this in mind, I've decided to become a shrink. It's probably too late to apply for a program this year, but there's always next year. Mental health is an incredibly under-recognized and overly-needed issue to be addressed in our society. It's not a problem at home but also overseas. I recently spoke with a professor who works with a program that brings the arts to war-torn communities in Eastern Africa. She admitted that while art helps, they have nothing to cover the many wounds of the soul.

So I went into medicine to become a church of Christ missionary doctor somewhere in the bush of Latin America. My path's changed. I'm going to help people heal mentally and hopefully work to promote change in policy in our government and attitudes within the church. It'll be a long and tough road as it's been this far, but as I learned while traveling, the most beautiful creations take the most time. For now, prayer's a good thing to help this creation come to fruition.

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too -John Mayer "Daughters"

Who's to say
I can't do everything
Well I can try
And as I roll along I begin to find
Things aren't always just what they seem-Jack Johnson "Upside Down"

I Have a Dream

2009-11-23T21:31:00.000-08:00

Or perhaps two or three.

Since I'm not traveling, I suppose it's not appropriate to post on my blog. Then again it's my blog.

It's fun to dream, to create, to let one's mind wander and explore endless possibilities. It also opens up a can of worms....a large one!

Here are some dreams/ideas as of late:

1. Explore the role of autism in mental illness such as schizophrenia (I attribute this one to having just seen The Soloist (great story. poor cinematography))

2. Explore the role of music in helping children at risk (orphans, refugees, etc. ) and children with developmental disabilities

3. Evaluate whether or not music could be used as a "potential space" for adults to cope with traumatic events and memories

4. Use schools in developing countries as a means of promoting health (stole this idea from PREDISAN). Perhaps we shouldn't send bags of food. Perhaps we should send bags of seed and establish drip irrigation programs and school gardens at every school in Africa (what a concept!!). If you give a man a carrot, he may eat it in a few minutes. If you give a man a bagful of carrot seeds, he might be inclined to plant a garden and give himself a chance at dignity. (google Malawi Project for some interesting ideas about sustainable development)

5. Incorporate non-happy songs into worship in an attempt to restore the reality of the continuum of emotions that exist in life. The Psalms express these. Jesus probably sang the Psalms. Aren't we supposed to do what Jesus did?

6. Attempt to encourage people not to use the words "horrible, awful, terrible" and the phrase "those poor people." I think we're all of the intelligence to create more realistic expressions of our feelings and those whom we serve (I suggest learning the names of the people you serve. "Victorina," "Marvin," and "Alvino" are more fun to say than "poor people.")

7. Develop a trauma-prevention/resilience-building program for the community health aides and schools in Alaska, specifically those in the Norton Sound Region.

There's some of my ideas. Any feedback, funding, or funny comments are most welcome. Cheers!

"UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not." - Dr. Seuss

Missed the boat?

2009-11-15T16:37:00.000-08:00

According to my personality type, these are the careers I should be: Hmmm.

Career counselor
Special education teacher
Alcohol and drug addiction counselor
Universal design architect
Holistic health practitioner
Diversity manager/trainer
Speech/language pathologist
Environmental attorney
Director of religious education
Therapist
Editor / art director (web sites)
Writer
Mediator / conflict resolver
Planned giving officer
Religious educator

Think I'm Caught Up

2009-11-11T11:38:00.000-08:00

My journal has a tea stain on it. Half the pages have separated from the binding, a result of three months of repeated openings. On the outside corner of every page the ink mixed with spilled perfume to leave a diluted seal of authenticity and smeared words. It was the one thing I wouldn't come home without. Here's some more excerpts:

C'est la vie. I've heard so much about trauma, about the tragedy of life of which poets write and of which musicians sing. One of my classmates made a good point: How do you grieve the loss of the desire that was never fulfilled or the part of you that will never be?

For me I think every trauma is inherently linked in some way to sin. The ambivalent, free-flowing attitude toward sex in the 60's coupled with the lack of communication and committment fostered by the promotion of "the pill" contributed to the increased rate of divorce which is now felt by my generation. We don't want to marry. We don't want to commit. We've seen the consequences of the sins of our fathers and they lie unacknowledged in our laps. But perhaps relationships break because we fail to realize the brokenness we each bring to the relationship. The brokeness of unattained dreams, of lost people, of those words that slit our hearts while sticks and stones left our bones unscathed.

....

"We come to the wall, touching it, lifting up our prayers toward the temple mount. We stand in the presence of the essence of God, feeling the power and taking the power out away from the core, the center of God's head, God's heart. We carry it out to the world.

....

"But with beauty comes sin. You know Satan was beautiful. The most beautiful of all the angels. Crusted with jewels. But he fell. And now I think he distorts the beautiful. If you think about the most beautiful places in the world, they are usually also the largest cesspools of humanity."

...

Simplicity. We try to make our religion complex with ornate rituals, mosaic-tiled churches, robes, incense, icons, pews, positions, building funds, cookies, projects, softball leagues. Perhaps they cloud the simple image of the cross. We find simplicity in sharing in the bread and the wine, the staples, the items offered to Abraham by Melchizideck. A common gathering to share common staples...I think peace is found in simplicity, I think peace is found in fellowship, I think peace is found in the story of Christ: the divine living simple, caring greatly, teaching often, and loving always. Here on the shores of Galilee.

...

If one is not to throw pearls to pigs, then one certainly shouldn't throw food scraps to pigeons. Without signal, after one pigeon had found a crumbe I had inadvertently dropped, 20 more quickly waddled into my vicinity. Such opportunists!

Wandering the streets of London is like having an infinite number of potential spaces in which to let ones thoughts wander and sort, using the people as imaginary actors to sort out the situations of life. I think the best way to resolve ethnocentrism is to ride the subway and to rub shoulders with every walk of mankind, to observe and ponder the life of everyone from the man on the street corner distributing newspapers to the Royal Queen herself.

More Excerpts

2009-11-10T20:48:00.000-08:00

In no particular order...

"I suppose to see the fingerprints of the divine, we must leave the footsteps of man. Yet existing on a planet where so many walk, it's almost impossible to extract ourselves from the mundane."

"There's a difference between beautiful and exploited places and peaceful places. I'm looking for a peaceful place."

"When we lose our sense of rest, our sense of refuge, we lose our ability to appreciate the small moments of life."

"Our time in the ivory tower ill prepares us for submersion in the community."

"Sometimes we have to remove ourselves from neatly contrived boxes of success and employment and hop on a train that takes us past the gym we visit everyday, past our usual stop, and up to the mountain air. With a clear view and a fresh perspective we can gaze down upon our life and see what a bloody orderly wreck we've made of it."

"We are continually being created, renewed, and destroyed."

"Perhaps the greatest things of beauty are those living statues of humanity that pass us on the street."

"You can succumb to the stress of the city--or see it as an infinite possibility of creativity."

"I love reading the Psalms. Like panes in a stain glass window, each one gives a tiny glimpse of God."

"Stones. 1000's of them. Like a little child I scooped up a handful before the next wave carried them away...I sat. I watched. Alone....I did nothing. It was glorious."

"Anxiety, fear, and timidity rob us of the opportunity to received whatever potential blessing God may have for us."

"God has a sense of humor. He leads me to an unbeautiful place only to show me the beauty of humanity."

"Solitude is not merely an absence of words or pursed lips. It is not merely audible silence. It is an intentional setting aside of those visual and audible distractions so that our soul may settle and find its place."

If Heaven's Not My Home...

2009-11-10T16:27:00.000-08:00

...then take me back to Gimmelwald...

Perhaps the message of the gospel should start with: God is kavod. He is incomprehensible. He is unable to be contained or completely perceived. I'm staring at a mountain and I cannot comprehend it. My eyes follow the rivulet of water coursing through the rocks but divert to the glaciers above, muddied from summer runoff. Yet, I'm still left with the grass carpeting the rocky escarpments or the forests of trees. I cannot contain the mountain within the confines of my mind.

I used to wonder what glory meant. I thought that maybe it meant that I should sing louder in church or maybe I should try to ponder solemnly on the words of the song or think about God more often. I didn't have a clue about glory. I still don't. I think glory can be like tonight, lying on my back on a cold bench in a middle of a small village in the Alps, watching the stars appear one by one and then occasionally fall out of the sky like the last embers of a Roman candle.

I'm glad I've taken God out of a box. He makes more sense as a mountain. Christ is our reconciliation, our means to appreciate God's glory. Communion isn't a ritual. It's the celebration of this reconciliation where we can look at one another and recognize the return of the prodigal son in each of us...

...Though we have to go to the desert at times, we cannot remain there. We have to deliberately choose to set aside time to look up at the face of God and contemplate his glory. ...

...Being holy then ceases to become the ends of perfectionism, the goal of legalism. Rather, it becomes our offering to reflect the glory of God.

"May God's face shine upon us so that his ways and salvation may be known throughout the earth." Psalms 67

Another Journal Entry

2009-11-10T16:07:00.000-08:00

Still catching up...here's another one from August:

Every noise and every conversation is a possible intrusion or conflict to the reminder of God's goodness in our lives. I wonder about the lives of those who lived in places like Castle Chillon. How did the church, which earned 1/2 million francs per year, functioning as a social and political entity, affect the lives of those around it? Does church still affect our lives more as a cultural entity or as a life-transforming power?

I think we've adulterated the idea of missions. We've turned the concept of doing the best with whatever God has given us into this idea that we have to go somewhere and be something. We have to "take" Jesus to people groups who are "lost." They're not lost; they're just not aware of the goodness of God that dwells in and around them. Are we?

We praise and magnify the name of those serving in a foreign country while the work of the saints at home goes unnoticed. We use souls as benchmarks and instead of trying to elicit God's goodness from each other, we attempt to push people into our mold of Christianity.

Talk is meaningless unless it brings life to the soul. Everything we do engages us in the pursuit of life or death, including our speech...

...

In my very best French accent, using a few of the previously mentioned 20 or so words I knew, I told the man at the train station, "I'd like to buy a ticket to Gimmelwald."

"Where?" he asked.

"Gimmelwald," I said, this time in English with my attempt at a German accent.

"Oh, you mean ____wald," he replied, the missed word sounding something like he had just choked on a baguette.

"Ummm. Sure."

He began to print the ticket when I noticed that the ticket was for "Grindlewald" not "Gimmelwald."

"No," I interjected. "Gimmelwald not Grindelwald."

The man behind the counter stared at me for a moment, confused. "It doesn't exist!" he proclaimed. "I've never heard of it."

Refraining from discussing the logic of his statement I said, "Of course it does! I have reservations to stay there tonight."

Still looking confused, he returned to his computer. After a minute he raised his eyebrows and said, "Oh...I guess it does," handing me a ticket to "Gimmelwald."

Catching Up

2009-11-08T17:52:00.000-08:00

I think I'm officially over jet-lag and culture shock, justifying a new post. I thought I'd share a few thoughts from a journal excerpt or two from my trip. I had lots of time to think...and write...

Here's one of my last entries in it's typical stream-of-consciousness style:

"This is first class, madam. Your ticket is for second." the porter said in stilted English with a slight German accent. I looked around, but the only difference I could see was the color of the seats. Still breathing heavily, having barely made the train and only due to the assistance of my new friends guarding my suitcase and running to the ticket office with me, I obliged and traded my red seat for a slightly worn blue one...

The clouds this morning hovered in the valleys like sleepy children under the covers, refusing to arise to the morning sun. It was a beautiful ride to Clervaux. I arrived at the Abbey shortly before mass. As described, the architecture resembled Cluny, only brand-new and unruined. The ceiling with its massive gothic arches lifted toward the sky. An elderly couple sat near the front, slightly resembling the monks with their kyphotic backs and trench coats for habits.

The monks filed in one by one and began to lift their voices in Gregorian chant. In Latin. Proclaiming the Psalms. God's word manifest in the unified monotone of human voices. The power to come together and create something holy, something lovely and something that united them before God was almost palpable in the all-but-vacant sanctuary. Yet, by the time it reached me, it seemed somber and lifeless. Dissipated. I closely watch their faces as they filed in and out. Very few smiled. We shared the sign of peace with each other, yet I didn't feel peace present.

As I left, I stopped by the gift shop to purchase a token postcard. The monk behind the counter said something in French that sounded like "1 + something." I handed him 1 Euro 40 cents. Surely a postcard would cost less than a Euro. Again he muttered something in French. I handed him a few more cents, beginning to think that this postcard would cost more than I had expected or perhaps he needed exact change. More French. Using 5 of the 20 French words I knew, I told him I didn't speak French.

"Italiano?" he asked.

"Espanol," I replied.

"Ah, you're Spanish!" he said, his eyes lighting up.

I didn't even try to explain.

.....

Throughout my trip I have seen how insignificant my life seems to be--amidst 1000's of years of history. Yet I have also seen how important one life could be. Just one person. St. Wilibrod, St. Columba, Hitler, Jesus, the Queen. All single people amidst 1000's of years of history. History is stories. I think that's what I love about Europe. It's not just places. It's people. It reminds me that my story matters and so does the story of others.

I finished the day watching clouds lazily move across an almost cloudless sky as the sun sank lower toward its meeting with an earth that had already donned its autumn palette. I love fall. The colors. As if its creation's last hurrah before ceding to the bleakness of winter. I wonder if farmers ever look at the fields and think of it as a creation, as a work of art. A piece of art that gives life to others. Farmers as artists--what a concept. I thought the field I saw today was a lovely painting.

In quietness and rest we find our confidence in God, in taking time to watch a sunset, to appreciate the faces of humanity. Taking time to realize the joy that the Creator finds in His creation.

Be Ye Perfect

2009-10-16T16:35:00.001-07:00

It's been a broken and beautiful week. Kind of like the rocks in the picture. A week of coming home and realizing that though my soul may be on the mend, many things I left behind are still broken. A week of renewing old friendships. Friends that serve our fellow man, friends that have the perspective to appreciate small things in life like ducks on the shore and that spread a message of hope despite a contrasting past of anxiety and despair.

And I suppose that's a life-saving message that I learned while overseas. Beauty can be found in imperfection. In brokenness. I suppose our society's Puritan foundations lend us to strive to be perfect in everything. I even heard the other day of a nearby farm that was throwing away hundreds of pounds of "good" tomatoes because they were "slightly imperfect." I'm sure my stomach wouldn't have noticed.

Richard Winter, a psychiatrist, says that Perfectionism is the "road to hell." Yet most of us, grew up striving for the best. Many of us grew up in religious organizations, myself included, that said we should "pray more, study more, be more ____." We should be better. Right? Perhaps we can pray, study, and serve to death. Without ever realizing why we do these things in the first place, only striving toward some unobtainable goal of perfection that our ancestors and society have instilled in us. As someone on a train to Luxembourg told me, "We can be successful/busy to death." I've learned that the best isn't always the most beautiful nor the end which is always expected. If perfectionism were the goal in life then wouldn't all mountains be Everest, all beaches Caribbean, all sheep be white, and all weather be sunny? Perhaps perfection is that which completes us. Or completes life. Or maybe I'm discussing beauty.

So who is a perfectionist?

According to the lecture I heard while at L'Abri, some of the signs of perfectionism can include:

All or Nothing Thinking

Intolerance of Ambiguity

A Tyranny of Should/Ought to/Have to Thinking

Fear of Committment (yes I spelled that word imperfectly!)

Fear of Rejection

Fear of Weakness

Fear of Losing Control

And in striving to be perfect, one refuses to take risks, one separates thoughts from feelings, and one sacrifices the joy of simply being and being with others.

Being in creation has given me alot of time to think about...well...creation. Creation isn't perfect, but it's beautiful.I think creation might be an antidote to perfectionism. Let me explain:

One doesn't strive to play every note perfectly. Rather, one creates a piece of music through a series of notes. If imperfectly played notes detract from the overall beauty of the piece, then perhaps something could be (not ought or should) done to make the piece more beautiful.

One doesn't fret over an upcoming exam or cram material into their head merely to answer as many questions as possible correctly. Rather, one learns the material simply to enjoy the process of creating new knowledge or ideas from what they have learned. If not knowing certain pieces of information could hinder this process, then perhaps one could study more.

One creates, appreciates, and enjoys the joy of living, accepting mistakes as part of the broken yet beautiful canvas of life.

Ok. So I suppose this theory may not fly in our success-driven society and it's certainly making me rethink my success and perfection-driven career path. For now I suppose I'll try to appreciate (not more) the beauty in life around me. Even the broken beauty. I'm a recovering perfectionist. I suppose most Americans are.

So Much to Say

2009-10-10T18:51:00.000-07:00

I'm still recovering from jet lag so I don't feel up to writing anything original. However, throughout my travels I've collected a series of quotations that I thought I'd share. Enjoy.

"Ultimately our gift to the world around us is hope. Not blind hope that pretends everything is fine and refuses to acknowledge how things are. But the kind of hope that comes from staring pain and suffering right in the eyes and refusing to believe that this is all there is." -Rob Bell

"If you find God with ease, perhaps it's not God you've found." -Thomas Merton

"Love...achieves its creativity by being perceptive." -Oliver O'Donovan

"The process of art can be likened to a long term relationship in which we grow to understand and accept what we like and dislike." -Shaun McNiff

"God's beauty embraces death as well as life, fear as well as joy, what we might call the ugly as well as what we might call the beautiful." -Karl Barth

"Jesus wants to heal our souls, wants to give us the shalom of God. And so we have to stop. We have to slow down. We have to sit still and stare out the window. We have to listen to what our inner voice is saying." -Rob Bell

"Beauty that we've left behind, how shall we tomorrow find. Set aside our weight in sin so that we can live again." -Ben Harper

"It is not speaking that breaks our silence, but the anxiety to be heard." Thomas Merton

"Psalms may evoke reality for someone who has engaged in self-deception and still imagines and pretends life is well-ordered when in fact it's not." Walter Bruegmann

"An American pastor came but he couldn't talk to us. He could only talk from up to down." Man on South Uist Island.

"Although Ecclesiastes says there is a time to rend and a time to sew, sometimes the time to rend leaves deep scars." -Paulo Coelho

"Hands that flung stars into space, to cruel nails surrendered." -Graham Kendrick

"It's always hard to see that doubt, fear, and indirectness are eternal aspects of the creative path." -Shaun McNiff

"Music does not integrate itself into the world of the eye." -Victor Zuckerkandl

"Everything from prayers to garbage is a manifestation of God." L Kushner

"We are filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." -Habakkuk 2:14

"When everything gets answered, it's fake. The mystery is the truth." -Sean Penn

"The human conscience is like the police. It may be eluded, stifled, drugged, or bribed but not without cost." -Meninger

"It's impossible to detach ourselves from the love of material things unless God gives us a love for things invisible." -Mother Teresa

Space

2009-09-18T11:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Scottish Airforce,

Please don't fly over small, peaceful islands. You make the sheep run and the birdies fly away.

Dear lorry driver,

Please stop when old ladies cross the street. Otherwise innocent ears might hear "Up Yours!"

It's been a crazy adventurous past few weeks. A "watch butterflies on top of a mountain on the Swiss/Italian border," "Have tea with Germans on an island in Scotland," "Listen to an Italian Klezmer band by the ocean" kind of experience.

I wish I could share everything but time is money (about 3 pounds per hour at the moment!)

They say Iona is a thin place. A place where the soul and the divine are barely separated. I'd have to agree. The past week has been a wonderful opportunity to participate in an experiment in which Christians live together, freed from the distractions of media, careers, visual and verbal noise, and given the opportunity to commune and work toward small common goals. Throughout the week I haven't been able to help but notice Creation and the sense that the work the Creator has done exists not only outside, but also inside each one of us as well. I've also learned it takes time to appreciate such creation.

With that thought, I'm continuing my journey to quiet places and spending some time in the Outer Hebrides this week. It's an attempt to slowly unpack the thoughts and feelings of the past five years and allow God space in my life. Allow myself time to appreciate his kavod (It's a Hebrew word for those of you who are wondering...) I wonder if sometimes it's not that our prayers aren't answered but that we surround ourselves with such noise that we can't listen.

So with that thought, I leave you with a verse that's been on my heart:
Isaiah 30:15

Cheers and blessings...

Still Around

2009-09-10T10:14:00.000-07:00

Hey guys,

Still around. Haven't had much time to post due to no free internet. Currently in Scotland with plans to visit the Iona community on Saturday for a week. I'll be back around the 8th of October. Cheers!

Tah Dah!

2009-08-26T04:45:00.001-07:00

So I finally have another post...this time from Gimmelwald, Switzerland (can you see a theme of visiting obscure places?). Life has been good the past few days: hiking, hot tub, nutella sandwiches. I can't complain. I left L'Abri for reasons mentioned in a previous post (which I later removed). It was nice to be able to mix studies about art and theology with a lecture on perfectionism topped off with a viewing of Georgia O'Keefe's works and a walk in the mountains. However, as I'm learning, it is the people who make a place, and my company was not that which I wanted to keep.
I'm headed down the mountain for a few days to Istlewald and then on to Italy. I hope that hot sunny Tuscany is worth the trade off for cool mountain air. We'll see. Lots of thoughts in my head. Little time to write...

Parlez Vous Espagnol? Reflections on Time in Taize

2009-08-16T08:43:00.000-07:00

The bells ring and the sound cuts through the last remaining wisps of morning fog, dispelling any restless thoughts that have already penetrated our freshly-awakened minds. The myriad of tones seem to reflect the diversity of cultures and walks of life that have assembled to allow the voices of humans to mix with the breath of the Spirit in worship of God and the glory of the gift of His son. Thus another morning begins in a small community in rural France.

So why do thousands of young (and not so young) people gather every week in a such place? Why spend a week without chairs, spoons, or cups? Why eat bread and hot chocolate for breakfast every day? Why spend a week praying and singing three times a day? Why stay up until 2am worshipping God, hours after the recognized times of worship? Why voluntarily spend a few days or a week in silence?

There are many answers. Some come for the cultural experience. Some come for the music. Some come for the experience of meeting people from many different cultures. Some come for the opportunity to discuss theological or philosophical topics without the fear of being judged or condemned for their perspective. Some come to learn how to integrate the disciplines of prayer and being in God's presence into their own frantic lives.

I think last night's service sums it up for me. At the end of the service, the little children sitting with some of the brothers came to the front of the church and lit candles. They walked up the aisles, lighting the small candles each of us had been given until the entire room glowed with the light of thousands of little flames. Within each of us burns the small flame of hope and love which is the reflection of God's creation and goodness, but in a world of darkness, our lights sometimes dim and need the light of others to fan that flame. Over the past week, our flames have been re-ignited by the smiles, the conversations, the songs, and the prayers of those surrounding us. Our hearts have been refreshed and our spirits lifted as we've sang, prayed, and studied God's word. Brother Paulo made the statement, "It's as if a small miracle occurs here each week. A miracle that doesn't come from us." I think he may be right.

I once heard about a study that said that in order to create a mega church, in order to attract the masses of souls that need saving, one needs a charismatic speaker, a band worthy of signing a record label, and women's restrooms in pristine condition. At Taize our speaker was the Word of God, our band was the voices of thousands, and the restrooms were not "pristine." And it's ok. Perhaps you could call Taize a megachurch. Perhaps we should just call it the body of Christ. I think in a world of noise, of clamor, of commercialization and Christian catch phrases, my generation hungers for a place where we can rest our minds and souls. We thirst for a place where we can play with the ideas and perspectives we've been taught in the safety of a group that is doing the same, and a place where we can allow the life saving message to settle inside of us while quietly working on our souls and our hearts. Taize is such a place.

"When we have really met and known the world in silence, words do not separate us from the world nor from other men, nor from God, nor from ourselves because we no longer trust entirely in language to contain reality." -Thomas Merton

PS No pics for awhile. My computer's in another country at the moment.

Free and Fun in London

2009-08-06T11:41:00.000-07:00

I now understand why Europeans are slim: food is expensive and they walk everywhere. I realize that some of you may not be regular blog readers so I suggest you scan down a few posts to find out why I'm discussing Europe in the first place. For the rest, I thought I'd share three free places slightly off the beaten path to explore if you have a few days in London (kudos to Jo for giving me the scoop about these!)

1. Postman's Park (as seen in the images)

A small park tucked away amid the bustle of London. It's known for it's memorial to those who gave their lives in "self-sacrifice." Plaques such as the one pictured above give (sometimes in great detail) the story of their heroic efforts.

2. Hunterian Museum at the College of Royal Surgeons

Yes, I'm a nerd. Anything and everything that's been used in surgery can be found here as well as anything and everything that can be embalmed. An interesting history of the "slice and dice" section of my profession.

3.Sir John Sloame's Museum

Along the lines of the weird and weirder is this gentleman's house which served as a veritable warehouse of odds and ends of artifacts. You can find anything from 18th century paintings to an entire Egyptian sarcophagus.

So there you have it. If you still have an appetite after all of this, grab a pasty and an English Dr. Pepper. And don't forget your slickers and knickers. I saw my first drop of rain in 6 weeks today. Cheers!

PS: For those of you who are wondering...I leave for Taize Saturday night with a group from Westminster Cathedral (not Abbey). Until then...

Three Hours

2009-08-05T11:10:00.000-07:00

They told me to arrive three hours before my flight. They weren’t kidding. Neither was the girl at the first security checkpoint, stationed before I even arrived to the ticket counter, as if I had to prove my worthiness to leave this 60 year old nation.

“Why did you come to Israel?” she asked me.

“To study at Hebrew U.”

“What did you take there?”

“A course on Trauma and Resilience.”

“For 4 weeks?”

(Actually it was only two but I wasn’t in the mood to elaborate on what I could tell was already going to be a long story)

“It was a short course.”

“Where did you live?” (Are we playing 20 questions?)

“At Hebrew U.”

“Yes, but where?”

“The dorms.” (2713 to be exact…the dirtiest apartment ever…probably a health code violation).

She pauses.

“I see you went to Jordan.”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“5 days.”

“Did you go with anyone?”

“No.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Did you meet anyone there?”

(Well, actually the whole reason I went was to fulfill a request I had found on a Jordanian dating site….)

“Yes, I met up with some friends at Petra.”

“And how long have you known these friends?”

“Ummm. Well, actually, they’re friends of a professor of mine from college.”

(so actually he wasn’t my professor but I wasn’t about to go there…)

The skeptical look on her face persisted.

“What do they do?”

(Make pizzas and sell them to unsuspecting tourists….)

“He’s a professor.”

“Did they give you anything?”

“No…” (Were they supposed to? Did I miss out on my chance to win the Jordanian lottery?)

(And why are we talking about Jordan anyway? Am I not leaving Israel?)

Needless to say the grilling continued for several minutes., I received the dreaded #5 sticker on my luggage which meant almost an hour of going through bag checks (I’ll refrain from telling the rest of the story…let’s just say that anything is subject for questioning including arab writing on bits of newspaper wrapped around breakable objects) and random questions.

So while my parents’ generation were celebrating drugs, sex, and rock and roll, the Jordanians occupied half of the Old City of Jerusalem which apparently to this day still generates a raised eyebrow, a slight sense of hostility and considerable searching of luggage at the very mention of the name (isn’t there a peace treaty between the two countries?).

Fortunately, by the time I arrived to London, the British had all but forgotten about the little tiff in the Boston harbor over some tea and a few redcoats roaming the wilds of what would later be called New England. “You’re doing a bit o traveling, eh?” the lady said to me at the counter after a brief questioning about my visit to London and future plans.

It took me three hours to leave the Holy Lands and thirteen minutes to enter the Mother Land. God bless us everyone.

PS My arrival on European soil means that I am not going to guarantee any frequent posts. I love you guys, but I'd rather spend my pounds seeing lovely London and beyond. Take care. You can call me (I have a phone and I can text cheap...send me your number if you like).

Ani lo medaberet ivrit!

2009-08-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

My latest hobby has been creating my own version of whatever the lifeguards yell in Hebrew. I have no idea if my interpretations are accurate but I find them amusing:

"Are you sure you took surfing lessons?"

"That swimsuit should have been retired two seasons or ten pounds ago."

"Why are you sitting in the water? Do you think this is some kind of Jacuzzi or something?"

"The Reef Cafe closes in 10 minutes. Get your ice coffees now!"

"Please ignore the herd of Israeli soldiers running by on the beach"

I also had no idea what the girl who sat beside me in the water was saying either. I kept saying "English" and she kept smiling and motioning with her lit cigarette (which she later accidently dropped in the sea) toward some people on the beach. Perhaps it's best that I didn't understand. Oh well. At least where I'm going tomorrow they speak English..

Mosiac

2009-08-02T12:12:00.000-07:00

The convenience of playing ping pong by the shore of the sea comes in the moments when the ball catapults into the water only to be eructed by a flurry of water and foam back onto the shore, ready for the next volley. At least that's how it seemed as I watched an elderly couple play this afternoon.

Over the past few weeks I've seen a lot of mosaics. Mosaics from the Roman era, from the Byzantine era, near here and far away. And like the small pieces of painted stone, my mind has been tumbling around large collections of thoughts and ideas, breaking them down into smaller, more-concentrated thoughts awaiting their proper place. In the meantime I have questions. Many questions.

If seeing is believing, then I believe that much of what I've been taught regarding the Bible and Christ and much of what is written may only be an outline of the reality of events. For example:

How is it that the disciples decided to follow Jesus? It's not like he approached them and said, "Hey I'm Messiah. I'm going to save the world. Come follow me."

Why did Jesus take Peter all the way to Caesarea Philippi to tell him that he would be the rock upon which Christ would build the church? It's a several day walk from Galilee.

Yesterday, I stood near where Paul was imprisoned at Caesarea. I couldn't help but
a) wonder if Cornelius, told the good news by Peter, would have still been a centurion that might have been present and
b) wonder about all the churches that Paul planted. To our knowledge, none of the original churches still exist, yet Paul gave up a career and colleagues to follow Christ. Was it worth it?

Why would people expect that John the Baptist's teaching that immersion in water somehow compensates for the massive slaughter on the temple mount with regard to sin?

How did Christ feel after so many deserted him after his teaching at Capernaum, the headquarters of his missionary effort so to speak?

Why wasn't the majority of Christ's life spent in God's city: Jerusalem? Why Galilee?

So I wonder and don't necessarily expect or need an answer. Some pieces don't need to be put together. There's already enough well-pieced mosaics. :o)

On the Road Again

2009-07-30T02:01:00.000-07:00

On a hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee

Shalom y'all!

Recent travels have left me with little time for blogging, lots of time for thinking, and ample space in my brain to conjure up a new itinerary. Yes, you heard me correctly. I'm staying on this side of the pond...until toward the end of September.

As many of you know, for several months I've been seeking ways of spiritual renewal and pondering many places to go such as Taize, Iona, and L'Abri. I had originally planned to spend three months abroad in Europe starting around September and staying until November, but due to a scheduling conflict in which I have to be in the States in early October, and the opportunity to come to Israel my schedule's been rearranged. The original plan had been to come back to the States and prepared my documents for residency. Then I realized that plane tickets would be prohibitively expensive to fly home and fly back and that my documents could be just as easily prepared here as there.

So I consecutively began to give up the dream of going to Europe and searching for a way to go. Due to a fluke/providential opportunity, I found that for around the price of a plane ticket to the West Coast, I could re-route my flight home through London and book a one-way ticket from Tel Aviv to London. To make a long story short: I'm going to Europe. On Tuesday!

During an exercise on spirituality and resilience building, we were working with some cards with verses from the Psalms. One of my classmates drew the card with the following verse:

"Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage." Psalm 84:5

If I hadn't been accepted to medical school, I had intended to attend seminary. Obviously, my route went through the means to learn to take care of people physically, but I still feel inadequate to take care of people spiritually. Spending time in Jerusalem and most recently, in the Galilee, has further laid upon my heart the desire to learn more about God and the Christ who walked the shores of such a beautiful lake, changing the lives (spiritually and physically) of those communities, and later the world.

I suppose I'm stuck between the "fair-skinned, blue-eyed, perfectly styled hair, immortalized by icons and statues" Jesus and the "you can be a rock star, look at the cool place I went to summer camp, just stand up say hallelujah, I'll slap you on the forehead, and you'll be saved" Jesus.

I just want to know the guy who liked to fish, who had compassion for strangers, and who embodied and embraced the wonderful sovereignty and mercy of God. I don't want to only be able to "quote Scripture" but also to be able to let the Spirit and Scripture work through my life.

My heart is set on pilgrimage. My theme is Psalm 84. My destinations?

Friend's house in Cambridge/London. August 5-8.

Taize, France. August 9-15.

L'Abri, Switzerland. August 16-September 5.

Travels. September 5-10.

Iona, Scotland. September 12-18.

Reflection/Visit friends/Return to England. September 19-27.

Will I miss you guys? Absolutely!!!! However, I think this time spent in prayer, reflection, community, and worship will make our relationship better. I'm blessed that many of the relationships of those reading this blog are because of our common love for Christ.

Those growing the garden better save some veggies and those who love coffee better save a cup, because I'm looking uber forward to catching up. Until then, enjoy the summer, keep in touch, pray, be encouraged and be blessed.

Bendiciones!!!

New Post Coming Soon...

2009-07-29T13:16:00.000-07:00

....I pinkie promise...

In the meantime, enjoy this video of Polish "pilgrims" enjoying their ride on the "Jesus boat."