Apple Cinnamon

This past weekend, some friends and I went apple picking in Vermont because we had a hankering (that's right folks, I did just use the word "hankering!" Look it up; it is in fact in the dictionary) for homemade apple pie... it was a fantastic time; I even took the time to perfect my apple pitching ability... and no, we did not eat any worms!

As a result of said apple picking, however, I have found myself up to the elbows in apples for the last day and a half... apple pie, apple butter, apple sauce, raw apples, etc etc... and yesterday, as I was pealing roughly ten gazillion apples, I had a moment of waxing nostalgia to the scent of apples and cinnamon. My mom would always flavor our house with apple cinnamon before company came over. It was her way of providing a welcoming atmosphere...

In fact, I was telling my roommate, one of the things that I really value about my mom is her attention to and appreciation for the little things in life. So, in honor of her, I wanted to take a moment to comment on a few of the little things in life that I appreciate, or that mean something to me...

• I am grateful for the mornings when my roommate makes the coffee for us...
• I love it when my house smells good when I walk in...
• I love it when students ask how I'm doing and wait for an answer
• I love it when strangers smile at me in non-creepy ways
• I love it when people put up quotes in their bathrooms, so you have something to read while taking care of business
• I love watching my dying plants perk up when I actually remember to water them
• I love the smell of apple cinnamon... or lavender and vanilla
• I love seeing my breath when I walk outside on a cold morning
• I love love love the moment when you realize that a stranger has become a friend!

What do you appreciate in life? What makes you smile?

into the depths

My mom always used to say that "the eyes are windows into the soul" (a statement stemming from an old Yiddish proverb) and that "looking directly into people's eyes is one of the most intimate interactions that you can have, without physically touching."

I think there is some truth to that statement. There is an intimacy in eye-contact that one rarely ever finds outside of physical contact. It is a naked and beautiful depth and warmth, that almost makes you uncomfortable, if you maintain it for too long.

It is also one of the things missing in most casual encounters. Passing on the streets. Walking in the park. Driving in the city. People do not look you directly in the eyes. In fact, at times, it more comfortable to look anywhere and everywhere else.

Intimacy lost. Depth compromised. Anonymity preferred. Life is too fast and too busy for intimacy. We prefer "git her done and moving along." So here's the challenge: take the time today to look someone in the eyes. To see them. To take back, to honor, the depths. To acknowledge, once again, that they do in fact have a soul.

I am now getting off my soap box...

Stretching...

A few weeks ago, a few friends re-introduced me to rock walls.

For someone terrified of heights and falling, these are perhaps a very bad idea. But, for someone who likes a challenge, who likes being physically and mentally stretched, they're quite a lot of fun! For me, the one who falls into both camps (terrified and liking a challenge), they are quite terrifyingly intriguing.

But the interesting thing about rock walls is that as you are climbing, you often times have to move a foot from a secure pivot, through a moment of uncertainty, and stretch to reach a new foothold. Often times this feels incredibly dangerous, risky, and well, if you hate heights, terrifying.

But here's the catch: unless you stretch, take risks, and move from security through the uncertainty, you will never reach the top of the wall.

I think the same thing is true in life as well. Often times, we are more comfortable on our secure pivots and grips, and unwilling to continue to stretch. And we might achieve mediocre views, relatively good heights, and the safety and security of our comfort zones. We will temporarily have a strong grip on life: it will feel manageable, even under control. But eventually, our arms and legs strength will give out, and we will fall from that mediocre height because we will have never truly reached the "safe place" at the end of the climb.

In the end, settling half-way, even though it seems less risky and less dangerous at the time, is never truly a place of safety or security.

With liberty and... uh... justice?

This past Sunday, Dr. Um made a statement which I thought was fascinating. He said,

"The survival of the fittest mentality fosters injustice not justice because survival of the fittest is not about fairness or equality for all, but rather, a pragmatic system in which the strongest survive." In other words, the individual is dispensable; the system must be upheld. This idea of "justice" goes to pot, figuratively speaking.

He went on to say, "There has to be a moral framework outside of ourselves for there to be any real sense of right and wrong, justice or injustice." In other words, a competitive system of survival mechanisms does not in and of itself produce an understanding of and longing for a just world.

I hear the words "social justice," "just cause," "justice being served," "striving for justice" and others, all the time, working on a college campus. They are, in a sense, the buzzwords of the day for those savvy and in the know. But maybe its time to take a step back and ask ourselves a few really important questions:

1) What is justice? What does it look like?
2) Where does it come from? How is it attained?

And may I preemptively state that if you think justice comes from education... take a look at how some of the most educated societies in the world have historically handled justice. Might I suggest looking at the Babylonians and Assyrians, the Romans, the United States, the Russians, the Germans, the Japanese, and the Chinese?

Or if we go by statistics, check out some of the most literate nations in the world and consider how literacy correlates to standards of justice. I find countries one and two particularly interesting.

How about the education level? Take a look at the "most educated nations" ... are they upholding justice yet? Yes, maybe their justice doesn't look as bloody and violent; their forms of injustice are more sophisticated, more surreptitious, and more insidious. If you look at statistics like corruption rate, and total crime level, we see some repeats of countries from the most educated list... it doesn't appear that education level radically transforms a society from an unjust one to a just one.

So, we come back to the original question... where does justice come from? And what is justice, at its root level? Thoughts? Questions? Observations?

I'll post on this further in the near future. But for now, the floor is yours!

Gradual ripening

Sometimes, life is marked by gradual and ordinary changes...

These are fresh tomatoes, sitting on our windowsill, ripening day-by-day. When we initially placed them on the windowsill, they were entirely green, and rather unappetizing. Now, they are a pleasant shade of orangish-red. The transformation was not momentary, nor instantaneous, but it happened none-the-less. We didn't see the change happen, but over time, we saw the "fruit" of the change.

Sometimes life is like that... we pray and ask for change. We long to be transformed. But transformation doesn't happen over night. None-the-less, God is at work, gradually transforming us into more and more of his likeness. In some time (sometimes days, weeks, months, years even), we will look back and be able to see the results of that change, even if we couldn't actually see the change as it was happening.

Within :: Without

in the desert
springs
a bruised reed,
a wilting flower,
a thorn with no rose.
from such great heights
none can dare imagine.
yet life within
overcomes
death without.
barren wastelands
give birth to beauty.
from the ashes,
arise prosperity.
from the desert,
springs anew.
the misshapen stone
becomes the cornerstone.
majesty in mystery:
darkness, stripped off,
light shines forth;
thorns renounced,
beauty unveiled;
in the desert,
springs
life anew.

Ordering the Chaos

In the course of the past few weeks, I think the word that I have most often used to describe my life has been "chaotic" or "disorganized."

I have been living out of a suitcase for the last two months.
A month ago, I moved 14 hours north of my hometown.
Three weeks ago, I started work on a new campus.
Two days ago, I moved into a new apartment, sans furniture of any form.

Yet today, suddenly, I feel a tad bit calmer and more settled. What changed, you might ask? Well, friends, that's quite simple:

I installed a rod in my closet for hanging clothes and I built my own dresser (save the applause; I already know that you're impressed!).

And, lest you be thinking... "uhhhh, KG, are you sure that you haven't been dipping into the wacky tobaccy? Cuz that doesn't sound particularly logical to me..."

Before you write this off as a sappy and irrelevant rambling, allow me to make my point: I think there is something in all of us that longs for order. Systems. Guidelines. Parameters. Some semblance of expectations. There is something indescribable about feeling like you have a "place," even tangibly a "place" to put your stuff. Even the free-spirits among us seem to thrive more when given a system to rebel against.

For those of you who know me well, you know that I am not a stickler for order. Just look in my closet for proof. I thrive on not conforming to social norms. I enjoy being unexpected. And I have never been particularly organized. Myers-Briggs, I am almost entirely a "P." But at the same time, there is something in me that longs for things to "fit together," "to feel right," "to belong," "to be understandable." In other words, to have some semblance of order.

Maybe, just maybe, this is because we were created for one system, wherein everything had its place, there was beauty in the disarray and in the meticulous arrangement, and each part of creation belonged. Each part knew its role, its place, and its individual and communal beauty.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something in us that knows we were made for something better: a place not of inexplicable chaos, but a place of "belonging."

And maybe for me, that is reflected in my longing to unpack.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go place my shoes in their proper place: haphazardly strewn on the floor.