fifteen year old wisdom.

"i want a job because i want money but i don't want to have to work."

don't we all, dear, don't we all.

what we talk about.

A few days ago, I sat at the dining room table in my friends' house. There were four of us, sitting around the table, college friends drinking tea and catching up on each other's lives.

A scene playing out, not for the first time.

Only this time, the dialogue took a slightly different turn.

Our conversations used to revolve around such topics as classwork, professors, global injustices, relationships, philosophical principles, how little sleep we'd gotten recently, and how much better Wegmans is than any other grocery store.

This time: rising public transportation costs, healthcare benefits, networking and applying for jobs, other people's weddings, our respective jobs, gardening, and how much better Wegmans is than any other grocery store.

A lot changes as we grow up.

But some things never change.

Like how wonderful it is to drink tea with old friends.

The Thing about Knowledge.

Towards the end of his memoir, The Worlds of a Maasai Warrior: An Autobiography (1986), Tepilit Ole Saitoti reflects on the educational opportunities that he sought and received in the UK and US. Contemplating the increased awareness resulting from his cross-cultural and inter-continental experiences, he writes:

"By then I had come face to face with the painful realities of knowledge. One who understands is freer in the head but sadder in the heart. It is sad to know that there is so much wrong in our world, and for the most part we are helpless to do anything about it.

...

Western education had opened up so many vistas for me, and made me aware of so many complications. It confronted me with the broader spectrum of things within which I live. My brothers live according to the seasons and accept death and rebirth as normal. They are spared the anguish and the failures I sometimes experience."

'cause everything is never what it seems.

a few weeks ago, i spent a saturday evening hanging out with a very good friend in harrisburg, pennsylvania. we went to midtown scholar for coffee and to browse the shelves of used tomes. i searched through an entire wall of poetry shelves but found nothing from africa. which was sad.

far more enjoyable, however, was encountering another good friend, who just happened to be working at midtown. our conversation started with her informing me - quite emphatically - that i was now dating my boyfriend, a surprise that had absolutely delighted her when she was facebook stalking one or the other of us. the evening progressed: coffee, smuggling food into the theater, (2d) alice in wonderland, film criticism in the car. all good times.

at the end of the evening, liz gifted me with some old calendar pages she had found while cleaning the bookstore. use them, she told me, for some creative purpose. such a delightful charge.

so tonight, i did.

a few old calendar pages, a handful of glue sticks, some coloured paper. the result: a pile of eclectic and quirky postcards. such fun :)

*note: should you appreciate such craft enough to desire such items yourself, i may consider selling some of them. interested? send me a message.

Vocation.

During my undergraduate years, "vocation" was one of the buzzwords we heard often. Recently, it's been on my mind again - the concept more than the word.

The future looms high, a blanker slate than I've seen in a very long time. At this point, I know where I'm planning to be living a few months from now, but really, I have no idea what I'll be doing. As I start to apply for jobs and contemplate the possibility of graduate school, I have high hopes - but also more than a little fear. It is exciting to think of walking unknown paths, in part because they are likely to hold both joy and sorrow, blessings and frustrations.

In a couple months, I will be starting again - again. New place, new people, new job (hopefully), new routine and rhythm of life. As I navigate yet another transitional space, I find my mind naturally contemplating my own identity - and my vocation. I think about who I am and who I want to be, and I am drawn ever more to writings that reflect those thoughts and challenge my imagination.

Below, two pieces which have been floating in my mind today.

The first, a quote that I heard at a church service this morning. My immediate response, after hearing it, was to wonder what currently developing, formerly colonised country the speaker was from.

"If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us walk together."

--Lila Watson, Aboriginal activist.

And the second, quite possibly one of my favourite poems, which was posted at the Reconcilers blog this morning. Written by Wendell Berry, it captivates my thinking anew every time I hear it. It is the last line I have been contemplating most today: the mandate to "Practise resurrection." It is, I do believe, the most perplexing line in the poem, in part because "resurrection" is a concept foreign to my daily existence. But there it stands, the closing line, as if to summarise all the rest, calling the phoenix to rise from the ashes and beckoning light into dark places.

Manifesto:

The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise, vacation with pay.

Want more of everything ready-made.

Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.

Not even your future will be a mystery anymore.

Your mind will be punched in a card

and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something,

they will call you.

When they want you to die for profit,

they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something that won't compute.

Love the Lord. Love the world.

Work for nothing.

Take all that you have and be poor.

Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace the flag.

Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands.

Give your approval to all you cannot understand.

Praise ignorance,

for what man has not encountered, he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.

Invest in the millenium.

Plant sequoias.

Say that your main crop is the forest

that you did not plant

that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into mold.

Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus

that will build under the trees

every thousand years.

Listen to carrion - put your ear close,

and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come.

Expect the end of the world.

Laugh.

Laughter is immeasurable.

Be joyful

though you have considered all the facts.

So long as women do not go cheap for power,

please women more than men.

Ask yourself:

will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child?

Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.

Lie down in the shade. Rest your head in her lap.

Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos can predict

the motions of your mind,

lose it.

Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail,

the way you didn't go.

Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary,

some in the wrong direction.

Practice resurrection.

A Guest Entry

Life has been busy and full lately: I haven't had much time for reading or writing of any sort. Perhaps you've noticed (or not) my lack of recent blogging; my journal has been receiving a similar dearth of ink. Even having someone comment daily on my non-blogging hasn't helped. All of my good intentions - and occasional thoughts of "I should blog about this" - haven't amounted to much. I'll be back here before too long: the writing urge will overcome my tiredness one of these days. But for now, thanks to those who check in every so often just to see if there's anything new. Slowly, slowly, it will come.

And in the meantime, mostly because it amuses me in the grandest sort of way, I thought I'd share a piece written by my youngest sister, Rachel. She recently found a box of old photos and school papers. Sorting through it tonight, she came across an essay she wrote at the beginning of fifth grade. Titled "Pillars in Person," it required her to write about a person who demonstrated the school's six pillars of character: trustworthiness, respect, responsibility, caring, fairness, and citizenship. Our school system enacted the Character Counts program when I was in middle or high school: the thing that I remember best about it is that our book covers contained the same typo for years, "repsonsibility" instead of "responsibility."

But here, dated 1 September 2004, and written in her very best cursive handwriting, is my sister's essay. Clearly she paid a bit more attention to the character pillars than I ever did...

Pillars in Person

My essay is about my older sister Kristina. She is 18 years old and her birthday is in November. She is taking classes at Messiah College in Pennsylvania this year.

Kristina is a very caring person. She often baby-sits my brother Nathan and I to help out my mom. She also forgives people very easily. For exampale [sic] if we keep bugging her while she is trying to do her homework she will say "will you please stop" instead of yelling at us. She shows this in many examples here is one, if we have a homework assignment we do not understand she will help us with it.

Kristina also shows that she is a good citizen by encouraging us that we can do anything we set out to do! She also shows this trait by respecting my mom even when she doesn't like what my mom wants her to do. She also shows this by not littering even if it's very tempting.

Also Kristina shows that she practices the character pillar of trustworthiness by never cheating in card games such as Bridge and Spades. She shows this trait also by never lying about grades or anything else. She never breaks promises, and is usually on time. Kristina is the best example of a person I know showing these character traits.