Bad Reviews

I found where the bad reviews come from. You know how sometimes you'll be online reading reviews about a place or product, and there's always one that's way more negative than all the others? Yep, I found the source.

Today I was (well, still am) at my favorite cafe in Berkeley. Cafe Milano. It's great. They play classical music, the workers are super friendly and greet me by name, they reset to internet when it's not working with my computer, they talk to me in Spanish because they know that I spent my summer in Costa Rica and that I'm trying to practice, their food & coffee are both delicious and reasonably priced, and if something costs $2.68 and you give them $3.00, they'll give you $0.50 back instead of weighing you down with change. They're great. Period.

But today I saw where the bad reviews come from. There were some women here, maybe 50-something, who spent a long time waiting at the "pick-up." When I saw they were holding money, I asked if they were waiting in line to order (they were), and I said, mentioned that they could order at the cashier's counter (I pointed). They reminded me of an older version of the wicked step sisters . . . I can understand their frustration, because they had been waiting a long time at the wrong counter, but that's not an excuse to be rude. So then they were rude to me in their response to my suggestion, and then rude to the guy working at the counter. They all ordered at once, all thrusting money at him at once. One of them speaking loudly, as if the cashier didn't speak English (he does) and speaking louder would somehow help the language barrier, one of them saying, "NO MUSTARD AT ALL!" (what's wrong with, "without mustard, please."?), another was mad that they were out of the kind of soup she wanted, and the other forgetting her change, so the cashier gave it to her friend, who got flustered with the responsibility fo $3.75 and somehow wasn't able to give her friend the $0.75 part, so her friend who the change belonged to came back asking for her seventy-five cents, to which the cashier said her friend had it, who was eventually able to find the $0.75 that she had forgotten to give to her friend. Confusing? I agree.

I was glad I was after them, so I could give the cashier a little encouragement and help to pick of the pieces in the wake of their storm.

I can't image those women would have written a good review about Milano. But I also don't think that their view of Milano through their bitter, demanding glasses is a fair one.

And for me that was really an eye-opening moment of how the lens through which we look at the world really does impact our perception of reality (duh). I'm not saying that bad things never happen to good people, because that's obviously not true. But I think that if you find that everything bad always happens to you, and everyone you meet is an incompetent idiot, and everywhere you go has something wrong with it, the problem may be with the glasses you're wearing (. . . or the glasses I'M wearing), and not with the world outside them.

Cliff Notes

I keep thinking that I'll have time to catch up on everything extensively, but whenever I feel up to catching up, that means I feel up to going out and doing other fun things. And when I don't feel up to going out, well, I don't feel up to catching up.

But I'm leaving tomorrow morning, so I figured I better catch up before I leave and forget the whole thing ever happened. (Which is what tends to happen, odly). SO, I'm giving you the cliff notes version of this past week, except for what I did today. THAT will be in more detail, only because I'm copy and pasting it from an e-mail. So here we go:

Saturday 7/16
Finished my final paper in the morning in a cafe in Ciudad Colon. Then I bussed into San Jose, bought bus tickets for the next mroning, and I chose a hostel that I suspected my best-Upeace friend would pick for her overnight in San Jose. Then I went to a museum. When I got back, my UPeace friend Natalie was at the hostel (I was right!). We at dinner. Then I met up with a friend that I had met in Costa Rica, and we went "Jazz Club," which is a bar/show place that in no way reflects jazz. The singer of the band reminded me of Stuart. It was a super fun night. Slept at the hostel.

Sunday 7/17
Early (6:00am) bus to the Carribean side of Costa Rica. The bus let me out at the SLOTH SANCUTARY! Saw grown up sloths and baby sloths, took a small boat tour, bought a corny t-shirt, and I was very happy. Then waved down another bus and it stopped on the side of the road to pick me up. Super awkward because I had my backpack, which usually isn't a big deal for busses because you just throw it in the under-compartment, but I couldn't do that because I wasn't a real stop, so I brought it on with me, and then I was that obnoxious tourist with their huge back pack on a crowded bus. So that was embarrassing. I got off at the next stop: Chauita, population 600.

Wandered around Chautia, chose a hostel, and went to the beach for what I thought was like 3 hours, but in ended up only being a little over an hour and a half. Then I came home and went to sleep (at about 4:15pm) and slept 'till morning.

Monday 7/18
Woke up, went to the beach all day, almost got attacked by crabs (seriously!!!), got sunburnt out of my mind despite my (albeit hastily applied) sunblock, rented a bike and rode it all around for an hour, $2.00 hamburger for din-din, Sleep.

Tuesday 7/19
Woke up, bus to Sixatola, walked across the bridge to Panama, weird visa nonsense, bus to random town I can't remember the name of, water taxi to Las Bocas Islands, found a hostel, rented a bike, rode a lot, jumped in the water (in my clothes), rode back to town, met friends, explored, went to dinner with new friends, drinks with friends, sleep.

Wednesday 7/20
Woke up, packed, stored my stuff, bought boat/bus ticket for later, water taxi to Isla Bastilmientos (I don't think that's really the name. . . but I'm forgetting it), hiked a giant hill, went to this really cool organic coffee & chocolate shop/cafe on top of the hill, played go-fish and uno with a 6 year old and a traveler from South Carolina for an hour (the 6 year old won every game), hiked down to Wizzard beach, went swimming, discovered riptides, ate a pb&j, hiked back over the hill/mountain (why do I keep hiking??!!), water taxi back, ate some food, bought a hat, picked up my stuff, water taxi, real taxi, and then got on a night bus.

Thursday 7/21
Night bus dropped me off in Panama City at 4:00, which is exactly the time I didn't want. Taxi to Luna's Castle (hostel), they squeezed me in (even though there was a loooooooong wait list. Hurray for taking pity on me!!), and I went to sleep. Then I woke up. Then I did the stuff that I wrote to Stuart about in the below e-mail:

This morning I wandered around Panama city for a looooooong time, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable. I dunno why. But I think it was a combination of me being tired, taking a night bus last night and not sleeping well, feeling done with stupid small talk, and being SO SICK of men/guys/boys/whatever yelling at me and whisteling at me. And I didn't want to talk to anyone or do anything. Super exciting, I know. But I was (am!) tired.

So I went to the Panama Canal, which was incredibly boring. EXCEPT that there were TWO football (football = soccer) teams there! TWO! One from Nigeria, and I didn't know where the other one was from because they were all super stuck up and had their own room and ice tea and such. (A guy just walked by with a tattoo that I'm sure would be cool if he lifted up his arm, but right now just makes it look like he has exceptionally hairy pits. Don't do that). Anyways, OBVIOUSLY I wasn't going to miss my chance to meet Nigerian football players, so when they were doing that awkward camera trade off where someone is taking the picture and then they all shuffle around so someone else is taking the picture with someone else's camera stuff, trying to make it so they all got pictures with themselves in it, I walked up and asked if they wanted me to take a picture of all of them. They said yes, and then they all wanted pictures with ME! I was like a celebertity! I don't even CARE if it's the blonde hair and blue(ish) eyes, it was awesome! So we parted ways, but then a little later there was the movie thing about the dumb canal, and I was sitting by myself, and then they all came and sat with me! So that was fun. And they all wanted my facebook and for me to come to Nigeria, and when we were talking things came up like, "Oh ya, my sister got married in the states last year, but I couldn't go because I was in South Africa." And I was like, "oh" but in my head I was like, "FOR THE WORLD CUP!!!" Needless to say, it was pretty cool. But at the end, I was glad to leave because they were still guys and I have lots all my tolerance for guys hitting on me. Even if it's a entire soccer team of very beautiful people.

Then I went to the mall and watched Harry Potter. . . twice.

I would call today a SUCCESS! And I'm tired and taking it easy for the rest of the night. (You: But it's your last night! You should go out! Me: No, I don't want to.) I'm very happy chilling here on the couch. Maybe I'll go grab a beer. But that would require me getting up. . .so maybe not.

Conclusion
So, that's it. I'm tired. It's 8:30, is that too early to go to sleep? Maybe I'll shower. Either way, my computer is going to die, so I have to stop writing this. NIGHT! See you soooooooooooooooooooooooooooon.

(Future Plans: Sleep in Luna's Castle, tomorrow flight to texas to los angeles to fresno, conference in fresno, drive to sc, chill/sleep in sc, drive to berkeley.)

Coming Up For Air

I just realized that my last post was my 100th post. I should have done something special. . . oh well.

Anyways, this is me coming up for air and letting you all know that I'm alive!

I can't write much, because I have to go catch my boat.

Paradise

I can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow. I feel like I just got here. . . Probably because I DID just get here. It's only been, what?, ten days?

I have so much I want to write, but I don't have the time. Every second that I spend here at the computer, I'm not spending with the grandkids & family at the house.

I almost started crying yesterday because they keep giving me things. (Okay, that's a lie. I DID start crying. But not 'till I was in my room by myself). The whole family does it. The grandma bought me jammies, the kids are giving me their stuffed animals, the parents gave me a mini mug and some old indeginous statues. The things that have practical uses (they try and give me jackets, etc.) I can refuse by saying that I don't need it, and they understand. But all other protests ("no, it's yours, I couldn't take it from you." "No really, you should keep it." "I couldn't possibly take that. It's beautiful, but it belongs here.") are futile. They won't accept my excuses, and they look increasingly more hurt with all of my refusals. But when I accept their gift, their faces light up!

But I feel so bad, because I don't have anything to give back!!!!!!!!!!!! I've told them this, too, and they instantly point to the post cards from Berkeley that I've given them (that they have all FRAMED and hung in their respective houses) and then they say that I gave them the gift of me and my heart.

BUT THAT'S NOT ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (that's what I'm yelling in my head).

I've exhausted the rest of my duct tape (1/2 a role, maybe more) making crowns and bracelets and jewelry for the kids. I've bought out the town of art supplies (a total of $7, if that), but everything that the kids make THEY GIVE TO ME! Today I made a rule that they could only make things for their parents and grandparents, which proved to be effective.

But I just feel so bad, because I don't have anything to give. All the clothes that I have with me are dirty & gross, and it's not like I'm carrying around lots of "trinkets" when all I have is a backpack. All my nice stuff were gifts from other people down here. The only thing that I might be able to give is a t-shirt from UPeace, but how to do give a t-shirt to a family of 10ish people that live in different houses without causing problems? Especially when the kids already fight over . . . everything? And can't go buy them something because a) the only money I have left I need for my bus ride home & they don't take cards here, b) I feel like buying them some little piece of crap would de-value everything they've given me, & c) I wouldn't know what to get.

So I guess my only option is to accept their more than generous gifts with as much gratitude as I can translate, keep loving on and playing with thier kids, and promise myself that someday I'll come back and spoil them all rotton. They deserve so much more than what I am able to give.

I just feel so blessed that I've been able to be a part of this family for the past 10 days. They've really made my experience here incredible. They've been more than generous with their love, patience with my spanish, drawings, time, food, etc.

EVERYONE.

Not just the family (my family, I mean grandparents that I live with and MULTIPLE sets of cousins/aunts/uncles). But everyone in the community.

Oh ya, now I remember what I was supposed to write about here. I wanted to write about those "life doesn't get any better than this" moments. And how I've had more than my fair share of them, whether it's with new friends in a foreign country or with my family Christmas morning when were all sitting contently in the same room and not fighting about Catan. I've had so many. And I was going to write about how on Sunday I had one, standing in the back of a pick-up truck holding onto the bar thing that goes over the cab as we drove through the Costa Rican high lands. And this was with a family that I didn't even know 11 days ago, and it's was an entirely different family than the one I'm living with.

A whole other set of people that I'm so grateful for. They brought me to this little place that you have to drive through this dirt road to for a long time that was apparently "the place to be" on a Sunday afternoon, because practically everyone I've met here was there. Just the drive alone was enough to satisfy me (probably my least favorite thing about the states it the illegality of truck-bed riding). But this little place was a paradise. I got to go FISHING and I caught 3 FISH! (Fishing may be a bit of an overstatement. It was a stocked pond). But I caught the fish on my stick with string! The son Brando, who is 11, caught two also, and then we ATE them. It was awesome!!

And there was a rope swing and nice people and a waterfal. In the middle of the Costa Rican highlands.

I'm in paradise with some of the most generous people you'll ever meet!!!!!!!!!! I really can't believe how lucky I am.

I know I've mentioned this before (a long time ago), but one time when I was in Yosemitie with my family, my unlce mentioned something that's stuck with me. He said, "It may get different-beautiful than this, but it doesn't get more beautifult than this."

I may have different-amazing experiences than this, but life doesn't get any better.

(But I still wish I had more to give back. . .)

Fantasy World

(7/7/11 @ 19:46)

I really just can’t get over how magical this place is. I couldn’t figure out the adjective for awhile, nothing seemed to fit quite right. But then I got it: magical.

It’s like it came right out of a fantasy book. Lord of the Rings or something (ha, ya, like I’ve ever read that). But it’s the kind of place that I can picture heroes of a book stumbling through in the middle of their quest.

The town of Llano Bonito really is right at cloud level, so there’s a 33.33% chance the clouds will be overhead and you can see the lush, green coffee valleys below. And there’s a 33.33% chance the clouds will be BELOW you, so that your mountain and all the other mountains poke out as if islands in a sea of clouds. And there’s a 33.33% chance that the clouds will be exactly on you, so that you will see – nothing. Literally living in the clouds.

Time and distance mean nothing here. I asked someone where the school was, and they pointed to a tiny blue roof way in the distance on a different mountain. Then we walked there.

All of the houses are bright and colorful. My house is bright green – inside and out. I feel like I’ve been shrunk down and am living inside of a bowl full of lime jell-o. Other houses are orange, purple, blue . . . A common get to know you question is “what color is your house?”

When I went on a walk today with my host-family, I had an “ah-hah!” moment about how Costa Rica (“Rich Coast”) got its name. Although I’m not actually on the coast, I did see the richness of the country, so I’m saying that it counted. We walked (hiked!) for maybe an hour, and we ate so much fruit. On every bend was a new tree, and in a heart-beat the kids were up there throwing fruit down. So much fruit that I’ve never even heard of before. There was this one fruit that looked & felt like a green egg, and when you break open the hard peel there are a whole bunch of pomegranate-like seeds inside. You have to suck out the seeds, because you can’t eat the shell/peel. I kept asking myself: how is this real?

I think I get kind of annoyed when people wish different worlds existed (except Harry Potter. That one is an acceptable wish . . . and Narnia). But when people just watch movies and wish for the world to be like those in the fantasy movies, I want to tell them to get off their butt, go outside, and open their eyes.

If we had fairies, would we appreciate them any more than we do humming birds? If we had Avatar’s tree-network, would it get any more attention than the already existing networks of red woods? If we had plants that light up, would we care about them any more than the plants that close when you touch them? If we had dragons, would they mater more than fatty, 10m long crocodiles? Would we care about mermaids any more than we care about fish & whales & sharks & dolphins? Is Atlantis somehow more majestic than Machu Picchu or Angkor Watt? The whomping-willow compared to giant carnivorous plants?

Anything you want,* we have a version of.

I wasn’t planning on this being a “save the trees” kind of blog, but I do wish that people realized that their actions have consequences. And while they’re spending their time day dreaming of a different, somehow better or “cooler” world, they’re chipping away at the already amazing one we all have right under our feet. It doesn’t make sense to long a different world while simultaneously destroying one that is pretty close to fantastical.

Sometimes I just want to shake people and buy them a plane ticket.

*Except for a) talking plants/animals, & b) flying animals that you can ride on, which I think is our greatest short coming.

What The Place Holder Was Holding

7/4/2011
19:21
Warning – I am the bad combination of exhausted + coffee. Just so you know what you’re getting into.

My head is spinning. I’m been living in Spanish, and I just had to write in my log for the day for school, and there’s other stuff that I want to write here, and then I have my journal-journal too, plus I just want to go to sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
Entonces, I’ll just write about a couple things. Ok, there are two things I want to write about here: 1) Storms, & 2) Matilda.

Part 1 - Storms
Have you ever driven through an electrical storm? I don’t mean under where it’s raining on you and you see the flashes of lightening ahead of you, I mean THROUGH.
Like instead of seeing a fork of lightening, the whole world flashes as if God flicked on & off a light. Like instead of hearing a boom somewhere off in the distance, you hear it as if you’re in the belly of a dragon and it’s growling? Like instead of having water pouring down on you, you might as well be driving through a pool or sitting under a waterfall? Like instead of seeing the angry storm clouds above you, you're in them?

I did that today. It was AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Part 2 - Matilda

Have you ever seen the movie Matilda? If yes, proceed on. If no, go watch it right now, because I don’t know how we’re even friends if you haven’t seen the movie Matilda.

To those of you who have seen it, welcome to this part.

To those of you who STILL haven’t seen it, wow, okay, you haven’t seen it AND you’re continuing on. Fine, I’ll explain what I’m going to talk about, since you obviously can’t be troubled to go watch a movie for an hour and a half (don’t pretend you have a life – you’re reading my blog). Anyways, in the movie there’s a scene where Ms. Trunchbule (excuse spelling, I have no internet and therefore no imdb access) makes Bruce eat a whole chocolate cake about the size of a 4th grader curled up in a ball.
I’m Bruce.

They just keep feeding me here – AND I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!! I’m going to burst. But it’s super rude to not finish what you’re given, and I’m never there in time to stop them from heaping SO MUCH food on my plate. Seriously, they’ll give me a plate full of food that is probably about the equivalent of what I normally eat in a DAY, PLUS fruit, PLUS soda, PLUS weird cookies. OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!

For example, this morning my host-mom packed me 3 sandwiches, 2 apples, a box full of 10 servings of chocolate cookies, and a soda for what I ASSUMED was lunch.

IT WAS A SNACK!

After eating 1.5 sandwiches (and nothing else because I was still full from BREAKFAST), I came home to a HUGE plate of food bigger than my head. I got up the nerve to ask for smaller portions – saying that I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVED the food, I just couldn’t eat very much – and they took off maybe . . . 2 tablespoons worth of food from a plate with 4-5 cups worth of SOLID food (chicken, potatoes, rice, beans. . .). And I had to eat it ALL.

Like I said, I’m Bruce.

Ugghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . this is going to be a problem unless I figure something out. I’ll keep you posted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

7-7-2011

The food situation has improved a little. I was able to let them know that their food is DELICIOUS, but I only have a small appetite, so I can't eat that much. So now they've cut my portions down to enough to feed. . . a small army.

But at least now it's only a SMALL army!

Oh my gosh, and I'm exhausted ALL THE TIME. My mind is tired from living in Spanish, my legs are tired from these hills, my arms are tired from making shampoo, and my body is tired from being at such high altitude & DIGESTING ALL THIS FOOD.

But I'm very happy. The people are amazing, and every time I get home, I have some collection of grandkids waiting for me. Which is fun.

Oh my gosh, I'm so tired.

Happy, but tired.

Tired.

OH! The tree that we have in our front yard that nobody knows what it is, THEY HAVE THEM HERE! They're all over. I wrote down what they were called, but then I forgot the paper I wrote the name on. Nipero. . . nispero. I think that's it. Hold on. . .

YA! Here it is -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%ADspero
Look at the picture in the middle! Super good.

Bon Jovi is playing in the background right now. First English in awhile.

Place Holder

I have a very insightful, deptful, entertaining, and wonderful post to put here, but I forgot to put it on a flash-drive so that I could put it here. (My computer that I write on is my computer, the computer I use the internet on is a public computer).

So this is saving a space, and somewhat of a sneak peak.

Okay, it´s not really a sneak peak, because I don't want to write anything. I just want to go check my e-mail.

And just so you know, the post I'm going to post is no more insightful, depthful, entertaining, and wonderful than all the other ones. So don't get your hopes us. It's just normal.

Okay, e-mail.

Clouds

Dude! I'm living in the clouds right now! I'm living in a tiny town that is LITERALLY in the clouds. I couldn't find it on a map, and I don't know exactly what I'm doing here, but I'm very happy.

I was a little nervous at first, because exaclty 0.00000% of the people here speak english, and I'm okay with spanish one on one, but it gets a little difficult when EVERYONE is speaking it quickly and AT THE SAME TIME. I'm able to understand everything, but I'm not able to understand everything AND TALK. It's hard & exhausting. But then two little girls (the grandkids of the woman I'm staying with) took me under the 12 & 13 year old wings, and they're helping me!!

(LITERALLY an answer to prayer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This afternoon I was like - God, what the heck am I supposed to do? I'm working so hard to understand, that everyone thinks I'm an IDIOT. - Then the little girls popped up. YAY!!)

I can practice with them and not feel dumb, and then go out into the real world and talk to the grown ups. Plus they're super fun. We play games and do each others hair, and it's like having little sisters. Yay!

Okay, I have to go, but I just wanted to give a quick update. Also, I am largely without internet, but I just wanted to let you know what's going on.

Okay, that's it for me.

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

New Chapter

I was going to title this "end of chapter one," but that seemed dumb because I'm really on chapter 4,234,536,234,456,748 or something. And who am I to say when one chapter ends and the next begins?

BUT what I can say is that as far as this trip is concerned, one chapter ended today and another starts tomorrow.

I feel like it's a pretty good transition. I ended this chapter by going bungee jumping off a bridge this afternoon, and just now e-mailing off one of the hardest assignments I've ever had. DONE!

Tomorrow I pack up everything I own (okay, everything I own down here) into a little backpack and get on a bus that's bringing to me a city that I forget the name of to do something that I can only hope I'll get more information about once I'm there. Because right now I don't know what's going on.

But what I DO know is that right now someone on my street is playing music, some dogs somewhere are singing along, and I'm exhausted.

Goodnight.

Dear Bugs (Part 2)

Hello Bug Warriors,
Though I appreciate your continued avoidance of the facial-region, your recent behavior is unacceptable and can only be understood as a declaration of war. I realize that I hold the responsibility of being the bigger person, being that I am both bigger and a person, and I should stop the maddness by refusing to escalate the violence, but you have left me with little choice. Your actions and creation of a ping-pong ball sized welt on my wrist will not go without consequence. Consider yourself warned.
Kindly,
Lila Carpenter

Dear Bugs

Dear Bugs,
I don't know why it is that you've decided to spare my face while continuing to cover other exposed inch of my skin with your eternally painful little love-bites, but I just wanted to say thank you for sparing the money maker.
Love,
Lila
P.S. Just in case I didn't make it clear before, if I catch you in my territory (inside enclosed walls, on my body, etc.), I'll kill you.

Forgiveness & The Future

I should be working right now. I have class in 23 minutes, and I should be working.

But during lecture today - which, by the way, was one of the best lectures I've ever had the honor of hearing - te professor mentioned something that started a train of thought I felt like sharing.

He was talking about Islam, and he said that in Islam there is the theory that when given the opportunity, it is better to forgive. And better, not necessairly for the person being forgiven, but for you, the forgiver.

I agree. I remember a very distinct sense of forgiveness I felt a couple years ago. Someone once said that holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. When I forgave, it was like I was given the antidote to the bitter poison I had been drinking.

I applied to work at Camp Hammer the summer after my freshmen year. This had been my plan for. . . a decade leading up to it. I poured my heart into my application and waited with great expectations.

I was rejected.

It was heartbreaking for me, and I was angry. I felt like I had gone through a break up. Camp Hammer had been a big part of my life for a long time, and the dream of working there had been constant since I was 7 and first went to mini-camp. Whenever I saw someone wearing a Camp Hammer sweatshirt or talking about Camp Hammer, I felt personally insulted. I was bitter about all thing Camp Hammer related, and didn't want to see, hear, or be a part of anything affiliated.

I forget what the switch was, but eventually I came to accept the situation. I felt like God must have bigger and better plans for me (that's what I'm supposed to think as a Christian, right?), and eventually (LONG eventually), I came to be okay with not working at Camp Hammer. I forgave Camp Hammer (as weird as that sounds) for rejecting me.

That same afternoon that I forgave Camp Hammer in my head, I got a facebook request for the Camp Hammer fan page. I remember starring at the invitation with the "accept" and "reject" buttons staring back at me.

I chose "accept."

That's when the flood came. I remember it so clearly. It was - literally - like being washed with cool water. Any bitterness left in me was gone, any anger burried deep inside vanished. I felt clean and light and free.

That's the feeling that I thought of when Dr. Amr Abdalla mentioned that forgiveness is good for the forgiver.

Then I started thinking, "hmm...what ever happened to that summer?"

My next thought was: "Holy Crap."

The summer I had planned to go to Camp Hammer, I actually ended up staying in Berkeley. That was the summer I took my first PACS course. Having that summer free let me prepare for and go on Semester At Sea, which fed my desire to travel; allowed me to travel the world; solidified my desire to be a PACS major; flipped my faith on it's head which evnentually made it stronger; put me in some of my most challenging and fulfilling classes that I still reference and refer to; and introduced me to my two best friends without whom I would not be the same person.

If I had worked at Camp Hammer that summer, I'm not sure if I would have been on Semester at Sea. . . Knowing me, I probably would have, BUT I wouldn't have had nearly the same experience without going in knowing what I knew from that PACS class. That one PACS class (that, according to me 3 years ago, I wasn't supposed to take because I was supposed to be at Camp Hammer) changed my life. I got to study under Francesca Giovani, who is phemoninal, and it gave me a lens through with to see and apply everything I learned during SAS.

I wouldn't be the same person if I had been accepted to Camp Hammer. I DEFINITELY wouldn't be hear studying at the University of Peace in Costa Rica for the summer had I not have taken that class what seems like such a long time ago.

This is one of those things that just adds to my faith in God. Things like that don't just happen. I was the perfect candidate for Camp (well, according to me). I wanted it SO BADLY. If I had control, I would have given myself the job, and then where would I be now?

I'm so happy that I don't control everything. I'm a firm believer that things happen for a reason. I'm also a firm believer that you get to create your own destiny. That I get to create my own destiny.

But I can't do that by holding a grudge that something didn't work out or that someone did something I didn't like. Only when I forgive them can I stop dragging a ball-and-chain around and give myself the freedom to create my own destiny.

You can't bend me out of shape if I'm flexible, and you can't weigh me down if I refuse to carry the grudge.

So future, watch out. I'm coming for you.

Mountains & Me

I don't like mountain climbing or hiking or death wishes or whatever you want to call it. I don't. They're not fun for me. I don't "enjoy the process" or "take in the view" or whatever.

So then why the heck do I keep going on these stupid hikes?????????????


I thought about it, and there are two reasons:

1) I don't like being left out. If something is happening, I want to do it to.
2) If I didn't do it, it would be because I thought I couldn't. And the second I think I can't do something, I HAVE TO DO IT to prove to myself that I can. I don't like people telling me what I can & can't do - even if the "people" are inside my head.

So I climbed a mountain today. It was HUGE! The hike started a 5:40am and went until I was about 30 seconds from death. PLUS it was a whole bunch of supper fit Chris-like kids that were all "let's run it!" Ridiculous.

Luckily I had a patient budy (Marian!!!) who was about my pace. . . okay, she made herself about my pace so that I wouldn't feel bad (don't you just love people like that?).

And we eventually made it to the top! Hurray!!!

The whole time up, I kept thinking "What is WRONG with me?!" I think of all the dumb mountains that I climb - Machu Piccu in Peru, the tallest mountain in Ghana, even just the little one we did a little bit ago here - and I DON'T LIKE THEM.

But I knew what kept me pushing forward.

It's the sumit.

Not necessarily looking around the summit. The views are usually nice, but, today for example, I was a little distracted trying not to keel over that didn't really notice anything but the blurr of green.

Nope, it's the feeling of reaching the summit. Of knowing that I did it. Of knowing that I did something that, if I had all the information in the beginning about how hellish the hike would have been, I wouldn't have thought that I could do. Knowing that something was physically and mentally difficult, but that I did it.

I just feel. . . powerful. Empowered.

It's addicting.

And as grueling as the hike was, I would do it again. I mean, not in the FUTURE I wouldn't (hell no!), but if I could go back to yesterday and talk to the me that was debating wheter or not she should go, I would tell her to go.

I'm so impressed with myself for making it to the top. (Does that sound conceded? Hmm. . . I don't care. You have to give credit where credit is due, and I deserve credit).

It was one of the hardest climbs I've ever done. And I did it.

=-)

Sloths, Conflict, & Communism

Hey everyone. This entry may end up being cut short because class starts soon, but right now I have to stay at the computer because I'm trying to make a zip file and it's downloading and I feel like if I leave, the computer will fall asleep and I'll have to start ALL OVER. And that could take awhile. So I thought I'd blog for a bit until I have to go to class.

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Change of plans. (it's 5 minutes later from the line above). I am now quitting the zip file zipping (it says it's going to take MORE time than it said 5 minutes ago, and it won't finish before school anyways). So instead of blogging, I'm going to go find coffee. Maybe I'll be able to get back on here during lunch. . . or maybe I'll sleep in a hammock. Either way, I'll finish this entry today. Because I really do want to talk about sloths, conflict, and communism.

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It's now lunch time and I am (again) in the computer lounge waiting for stuff to load. So now I'll write.

Part I: Sloths
I saw some sloths this weekend, which was awesome. It would have been a little more awesome if they were wild and out in nature (we were at the "Peace Lodge" and it was like a fancy zoo. Apparently there's good reasons for the animals being there. . . rehabilitation or something), but I'll take what I can get. This whole weekend was a lot of fun! Saturday we went up to a volcano, which was cool, and then over to the Peace Lodge where we saw sloths and butterflies and jaguars and other cool animals. And had a delicious lunch. And did other cool stuff.

And YESTERDAY we went rafting, which was AWESOME! Super, duper fun. Here's a little tip for when you go rafting (one that I've mastered): don't choose your boat, choose your GUIDE. I chose (and convinced some people I like to choose) Kevin. He was great. Super funny and super fun. At one point, he had one side of the boat sit backwards so that when we all paddled, we would spin in circles. He let us, one by one, "ride the bull" down some of the smaller rapids, meaning sit on the front of the boat and hold on with one arm. He told us all the places that were calm that we could jump out and swim along side the boat. He let us jump off a big rock into the river! (none of the other boats got to do that). He showed me which trees the sloths live in (. . . as hard as I looked, I never saw one. But that wasn't his fault). Basically, he was awesome. I think everyone had a really great time - even if they weren't on our boat.

At the end of the trip, we had the options to buy photos. We could either divide it between boats (each boat pays $40 and gets all the pictures/videos taken of their boat) or divide it between everyone (everyone pays $6 and gets all the pictures of everyone). This leads me to my next topic: communism. (Apparently I'm rearranging topics).

Part II: Communism
I wouldn't say that I was ever a "communist," but I did see the value in it. Working together for the betterment of the community, everyone doing their own part, etc. etc. . . . It sounds nice. A little utopian, perhaps, but it still sounded nice. And perhaps. . . possible?

But I get it now! I get why it won't work!

When we were deciding how to do pictures, I asked everyone "who really, really doesn't want to pay for pictures." There were 5 people, so we just took them out and had everyone pay $7 for everything instead of $6. Still a pretty good deal. But then later a girl, let's call her Barbie, was talking and she said, "I just feel bad, because I know I'm going to get the pictures or someone else is going to put them of facebook or something, but I just don't want to pay for them." (For the record, it was said more whiney than sincere). In my head, I replied, "Well there are two ways to make yourself feel better: a) pay for what you're getting, or b) don't take it when it's offered to you, untag yourself from pictures, whatever." I didn't say that, though, because I knew Barbie would be defensive and not at all receptive to what I had to say. Instead I kept my mouth shut, and I'm glad I did because that's when Jamie (one of the leaders on the trip) said something super simple: "Well, that's communism."

AND NOW I GET IT. The reason why communism would never work is because it involves PEOPLE.

I expect people to be willing to work for the betterment of the group, or for the benefit of other people, witht he expectation of "what goes around comes around," because that's basically how I work. But I forget that I'm not everyone, and that's not how people work in general. I didn't really care about the pictures, but I know that for some people it was really important to them, and they wouldn't be able to do it unless the whole group pitched in. So I pitched in. I know that Barbie could have done it, even if it wasn't super convenient, because I'll bet you anything that if that trip cost $96 instead of $90, she would have still been there. But people (in general, not just Barbie) live by the mentality of "What do I want, how can I get it, and how will this benefit me?" And this totally isn't a judgement call on my part. We all have our different vices, we all have our different experiences that make us the way we are, & if you're feeling defensive, it means that I've said something wrong because that wasn't my intention at all.

My intention was to share my realization that people will put their own needs/wants over the needs/wants of the group. Somehow, in my last 21 years, I missed that! So that's all I'm going to say about that. Moving on.

Part III: Conflict
Ironically, I think studying here at the University for Peace has taught me more about conflict than about peace. So often at Berkeley I hear PACS (Peace & Conflict Studies)kids say, "well, why don't they just solve it diplomatically?" or "why don't they just talk it out" or "if we could just get the leader in a room together, we'll be able to solve everything."

Nope.

I am surprised about the level of communication skills. Or rather, lack there of. These are some of the brightest undergraduate and graduate students in this field, and you put us in a room together and give us a subject . . . AND NOTHING GETS DONE!

Why?

Because nobody is listening. It's SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO frustrating. I just want to yell at people, "Shut up! We've heard your opinion 14 thousand times. We get it! We know what you think! Just shut up for 10 minutes and listen to what the other people have to say!" (wow, apparently inside my head is really angry). Of course I'm not speaking about everyone in the program, but I feel like a lot of people come in with a plan to show everyone why their solution is the right one, or why their way of thinking about a problem is the correct one. When other people are talking, they're not listening. They're thinking about what they're going to say next. If they ARE listening, they're listening to figure out how to rebuttel. THIS ISN'T DEBATE CAMP! WE'RE ON THE SAME SIDE! People cut each other off, shoot down each other's solutions, don't let people talk. . . it's embarrassing.

No wonder states go to war when they have a conflict! Here are kids that are all on the same side trying to solve the same problems, and we can't communicate! How could you possibly expect leaders of countries who are far more embedded in their way of thinking and invested in the results of the negotiation to do anything more than argue, when all we do is argue ourselves?

(But it's secret arguing. Not much yelling, mostly this phrase: "That's interesting, but. . ." Translating to, "What you said was dumb, here's the right answer. . ."

On the one hand, I'm excited for our future, because if these are the leaders of tomorrow, there's one thing that you can deffintely say about them: they're passionate about good causes. On the other hand, though, it makes me kind of nervous that everyone keeps yelling, "Communication! That's the way to solve the world's problems!!!!" . . . yet it seems like nobody knows how to communicate.

Everyone here knows SO much, and I am SO enjoying being able to sit it a room with so much wisdom and experience (even if it is being shot across the room like bullets) and soak it all up. And I'm (DEFINITELY!!!!) not saying I'm a perferct communicator. But I do wish that people would recognize that we have two ears and one mouth, and they should be used proportionatley.

Alive

Hey everyone.
I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm alive and exhausted.

School is awesome.
The people are awesome.
Costa Rica is awesome. (it rains a lot).

And I get to go white water rafting tomorrow.

I have to be AT the bus stop at 5:30AM, so I'm going to pack my bag and go to sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. But I just wanted to let you know all is well.

Night.

Empowerment & Mountains

"Seek first to understand, and then to be understood."

That's the quote I'm trying to live by here at UPeace. I already know what I think, but right now I am surrounded my SO many people from SO many backgrounds. Why waste my time announcing what I think when a) it's not asked for, b) I already know what I think, and c) there are probably other people that have more first hand experience on the topic we're learning about that I can learn from, as opposed to me inserting my researched or assumed opinions.

If someone asks me, I'll talk. Or if I feel like something is missing, I'll add it. But for now, I'm incredibly happy soaking up the knowledge that I have the blessing of being surrounded by.

We had our first day of real class today, and then our first discussions. It was . . . awesome. To have so many different experiences, backgrounds, and point of view all in the same room, ready to learn from each other was really cool.

"Seek first to understand and then to be understood"

That quote was running though my mind the whole time. I didn't have to worry about trying to come up with MY response, I could just listen. I didn't have to distract myself by seeing how their opinions compared to MY opinions, I could just use all my energy to try and understand what they were saying as fully as possible.

It was freeing. And one of the best educational experiences I've ever had.

And now it's my turn to talk. Forgive me, but this will be more processing aloud instead of a fully formulated thought.

Today we talked a little bit about "empowerment" and someone brought up the alternative title of "capacity building" or even "capacity opperation." But the term "empowerment" got to me. I hear so often of empowering this group or empowering that group. Empowering women. Empowering the rural population. Empowering . . . whoever.

And it got me thinking. . . can you do that? I mean, can you really do that? It sounds like you're granting them power, but is it really power than after all?

I just looked it up.

Empower: to give power or authority to; authorize, especially by legal or official means.

See, now that just brings up so many issues for me. The first is obvious - Who are we to empower anybody else? What authority do we have to grant anyone power at all?

I feel like other people could agree with me on those questions. The other issue I have may not be so popular.

How can power that is granted not earned be effectively, consciously, and responsibly used?

Have you ever climbed a mountain before?

Picture this with me.

You're climbing a mountain. You start off not really knowing what the trail will look like, but knowing you want to get to the top. You start off, and it's not so bad. A log is in the way, but you step over it. There's a muddy spot, but you avoid it. The mountain gets steeper, and you're breathing harder now. A nagging voice starts up in the back of your head telling you that you won't make it, and maybe you should just turn back. You take a book out of your bag and drop it to the ground - unecessary weight. Steeper still. You climb. Your lungs feel like they won't fill to capacity, and you've worn the wrong shoes. The voice in your head gets louder, but you ignore it. Luckily for you, the sound of your heart pounding so hard in your ears overpowers the nagging voice in your head. Your head feels like it might explode, and you rest for a second. The voice comes back louder, and you consider turning around. But you don't know how much further it is to the top - maybe just around the corner, and you can't turn back now. You push on. One step in front of the other, you climb. You're limping now, and you find a walking stick to help support yourself. Panting, sweating, you finally enter a clearing. You have made it. You crumple to the ground and lay on your back, watching the clouds slowly pass by. You've made it. You made it up the mountain. Once your breath comes back to you and the inner pounding stops, you roll to your belly, get on your hands and knees, and then to your feet. For the first time, you're able to take in the view. On the left, you see the ocean. It sparkles and dances out as far as you can see. On the right, you see green. Just green, except for the few spots marking the towns. You've made it. It's the most beautiful view you've ever seen, and you're proud of yourself for making the climb. You didn't know if you could do it, but you knew it was important to you. You knew you needed to be here, looking at this view, having this victory. You earned it.


Now picture this: Someone tells you to get into a helicopter at the bottom of some big hill and you get in. It's a cool ride and in three minutes you're at the top. It's a pretty view. Water on the left, some trees on the right. Cool. You feel satisfied, saw all you need to see, and are ready to leave.

So I guess my question is, by "empowering" people, are we really cheating them? Are we pushing them into something they don't want to do? Are we taking away their chance for personal ownership, victory, and accomplishment?

Do I think that everyone DESERVES gender equality, access to education, safety, health, fair representation, etc.? Duh. But I also think that along with that, people DESERVE ownership of their lives and the ability to make their own choices. Being shoved into a helicopter - however well intentioned the shove was - is not freedom.

When people walk up mountains, they are fighting mental demons on the way up. They have to constantly have in mind their goal, whether it's reach the top or put one foot in front of the other. When they reach the top, they are stronger for it, both mentally and physically.

Now compare this to development or peace building, or whatever have you. As they climb the mountain, they are batteling deamons. They may have things they need to unpack from their backpack in order to reach the top - policies that aren't working, counter productive leaders, etc. - they may need to take on new tools to help in their journey - education, financial redistribution, whatever - in order to help them on their way. By the time they've reached the top of whatever mountain they've chosen to climb, they're prepared to be there. Through trial and error, they've constructed a program and plan that may not be perfect, but a) it's theirs, b) they have ownership and commitment to it, c) it worked well enough to get them to the top, and d) they've altered it before and are able to alter it again if the need comes up. They are prepared to face the challenges that will undoubtedly eventually face them.

On the other hand, stick a bunch of "rural, indegenous, tribal" women on the top of a mountain and call them empowered, and you'll have a mess on your hands. They may not want to be there, they may try and get off, they may not understand what it means to be on that mountain or what they're supposed to do now that they're there, they may not be able to face the challenges that come with that mountain. The list goes on.

To me, "empowering" people is dropping them on top of a mountain. I don't care whether it's "empowering" them through educaiton or whatever. It's dropping them on top of a mountain. We may know that the mountain is good, but that doesn't matter. It's imperialistic, neo-colonial, and egotistical.

I think a better option would be to say, "Hey, here's this mountain. We climbed it, and this is what it did for us. If this looks like something you want, we can help you get to the top." Then be a RESOURCE. Tell them what you did, your failures, where you slipped up. Give them your experience and wisdom, and then give them the freedom to make their own choices. When they get to a fork in the road, let them ask your advice, answer, and them watch them as they choose a direction. Don't push them down a road. Once you start unloading and repacking their back pack, pushing them down certian paths, or worse, pick them up in a helicopter and drop them at the top, the battle is over. I don't care what mountain it is: democracy or gender equality or whatever. If once they get to the top, they don't feel like they earned it and they don't feel like they did it themselves, they won't feel like they can handle it, or they'll feel like they can handle it, but they won't really have the right tools and experience to do it, or else they will be forever dependent on those that got them there.

This is NOT the ladder of development. I'm not saying boost the low ones to the ladder and they're good to go. What I'm saying is . . . well, exactly what I said. People & groups with success have a lot of experience to share and a lot they can contribute to those looking to change their situatin, but forcing someone or some group into something they don't want to do - however excellent we think the mountain is - ultimately won't help anyone. Once they say they want to climb the mountian, be their biggest and best resource. But until them, doing any more than offering is a voilation of their soverignty as a human, group, state, etc.

(As always, I reserve the right to change my mind about anything).

I’m On a . . . Plane

So here we go, onto the next adventure. It’s kind of fun having a compact little computer. I haven’t had this experience before. I’m sorry if you get overloaded with blogs because of it. I’ll try to keep myself under control.

Anyways, I’m currently on the plane heading into Costa Rica. Probably about 40 more minutes, and we’re there! Yay! It’s so weird that it was only 13 hours ago I was waking up at home. Well, 14 hours by my clock now, but there’s the time difference.
I met Manae. She’s a girl from Japan who is doing the same program as me. She left Japan at 5:00pm on Sunday and landed in Huston at 3:00pm on Sunday. Good luck wrapping your mind around THAT one.

It’s weird, because I feel like so much has happened and like so much time has gone by, but it’s been largely uneventful. Airport. Plane. Airport. Plane. Guess what comes next. . . AIRPORT. But we’re not quite that far yet.

I don’t know what this adventure will look like, but I’m excited for it. I also forgot toothpaste. Oh well. I remembered my passport, and that’s what matters.
When packing for a trip, I really only need to make sure I have two things: passport & credit card. All the rest is gravy.
Let the adventures begin!

(that was written yesterday. Since then, I have met awesome people, climbed a mountain, and missed my tele-bears).

. . . wow

I sailed around the world awhile ago. I don't know if you remember.
Sometimes I forget.
I was in Vagina Monologues.
Changed my life.
I quit a journal,
and started another.

Four years ago, all I wore was pink.
I now own nothing resembling cotton candy or 80s carnations besides my fluffy slippers.

I've changed.

I've lived in the dorms, a 4 person apartment, on a boat, in a sorority house, in south america, in a 2 person apartment, my car, and now in a brothel (not a real brothel - 10 ladies, 1 house).

All in three years.

I've met two best friends and lost touch with others.
I've questioned my faith, forgotten about it, and slowly started to rediscover it.
I embarrassedly saw the Vagina Monologues - wondering if it was against my religion - and two years later spread my legs in front of 2,400 people as the opening act.

I now even cuss occasionally.

I've changed.

I want to mention now that somebody recently complimented me on my writing, which, as extremely flattering as it is, makes me super nervous. I feel like I have to produce some excellent blog worthy of compliments, when all I want to do is sort through my recent and not so recent past. Why I choose a public forum like a blog when I don't want to care about what people are thinking is a god question, for which I have no answer.

But I'm finally putting my head down to write this. Literally. As I lay here ont he carpet in the middle of my room in the brothel, my face is literally smushed into the leftover carpet from my Santa Cruz house. Yep, I still like writing and doing homework sprawled out on the floor. Some things never change.

I can't believe I keep changing. Every time I go through a major transformation, I think something down inside me says, "okay, now I get it." I don't know what "it" is. Life? How everything works? A bit presumptuous, I think.But if I'm not presuming that I understand something so large, then why am I continually surprised when I change again.

Side note: Another thing that hasn't changed is that I still hate being told what to do. Hate it. Want me to not like you/be seriously annoyed? Want IMMEDIATE results? Tell me what to do on anything I didn't ask your advice or opinion on. Works every time. I know it's something I should be more graceful on, but until I work that kink out, just don't do it. I mean, really, that's not a road you want to travel down. After you do it (especially if you do it repeatedly!), I'll avoid you like the plague.

But back to the things that have changed. . .I don't even know where to start. Which I guess is okay, since I already started. But do I go chronologically? Categorically? How do I explain all the ways I've changed?

And where is my jumping off point? You know? Where's my baseline that I'm showing my deviation from? And I'm nowhere near a finished product . . . so just how do I go about doing this?

I don't think I can.

How do you compare the changes between a bundle of balloons and a Picasso painting? They're different. Some similarities, maybe, like the shapes or colors. But very different, and in a such a way that you don't even know where to start.

Uhh. . . one's a bundle of balloons and the other is a Picasso painting?

Exactly.

One is me before and the other is me now?

Sounds okay to me.

So I don't think I can sum me up in a blog post. I don't think that I can show my changes. I think the best I can do is talk about who I am now, and let you see the changes for yourself. These posts go back quite awhile, and I'll try to be more consistent in the future.

So who am I today?

Lila June Carpenter. 21 years old. Christian & questioning. PACS major Global Poverty & Practice minor. I love sleeping. I have great friends from Semester At Sea, Berkeley, and Santa Cruz that I love dearly. I don't always get along with my family. I hate it when people tell me what to do. I am more confident in myself than I was before, but still sometimes need encouragement. I love dancing. Although I don't think I'll be spelling it "womyn" anytime soon, Vagina Monologues gave me a new appreciation for women and the strength in being one. I am highly sensitive to stereotyping and assumptions, and as a result started and run a new publication of campus called the Human Journal. I like long walks on the beach, sunsets, and poking dead thing with a stick. I'm a work in progress.

Because, Hell, Why Not?

A conversation tonight made me realize that though a lot of people (kinda-sorta) know (basically-ish-ugh-kinda-not-really) what I believe, they don't really know why. I recently applied to BWAP which is a Christian organization that does service in SF, and they had this question: "Describe your relationship with Jesus Christ." For my answer I wrote what you'll find below. I was going to put it up earlier, actually right after I wrote it, but it seemed kind of . . . like I didn't want to. Partially because of laziness and partially because . . . I don't know. I think most of it was laziness. Actually, that's a complete lie. Part of it might have been because I know a lot of the people who read this blog disagree with what a believe or don't know parts of my life story that were in my answer to this application question. And I was scared that if they knew all of it, they'd be weirded out or think I was crazy or stupid or something. There's stuff in here that some of my family doesn't know about (and won't like) and other parts that friends don't know about (and will think I'm crazy for). And believe me, there are a lot of things that you're about to read that at one point or another I would have pointed at someone else who was going through it and said they were stupid for it. But I think that's part of the beauty of growing up and living in a non-stagnant world; I get to change my mind and my perception of the world I inhabit. And I think part of what goes along with that is the people in my life have the freedom to change their mind and perception about me. It's only fair, right?

I thought about editing it down to make it "blog appropriate" for all my various readers (which there are surprisingly many of. I'm always thrown off when different people mention different things from my blog that I think only a handful of people read). But I realized that if I edited it down first for what my grandparents don't know, and then for what one group of friends doesn't know, and then for what another group of friends will think I'm crazy for, and then for what will scare my family (don't worry, mom, it's not that bad). . . There would be nothing left.

So I'm about to go open up the document that I wrote a couple weeks ago and haven't looked at since, and copy and paste it onto here. Honestly, I don't remember what I wrote, and I'm not going to reread it until it's up and posted because I don't want to be tempted to edit it down. So here it is, I"m going to post it right now.

Because, hell, why not?

Describe your relationship with Jesus:

Jesus and I are tight. We’ve gone through some rocky times, but I feel like we’ve grown a lot this past year and a half. I grew up in a Christian-ish home (Mom was Christian, Dad wasn’t), and my faith was always a huge part of my life. I feel like there have been a lot of steps where I’ve “made it my own” over and over. I think that’s important. As I enter new phases of my life, I have to reaffirm my life to him at each phase. I know that once he’s in my life, he’s in my life forever. But still, it’s helpful for me to recognize the new stages of my life and realize how my relationship with God has changed at each one. My life isn’t stagnant, and neither is my faith. The first time I made my faith “my own” was when I was five and accepted Jesus into my heart. A year later, my mom got cancer, and I made my faith “my own” when we no longer went to church as a family-ish unit (my dad never went), but instead I had to ask my dad to drive me every time I wanted to go. When my mom got cancer again when I was in sixth grade, I again had to work for my relationship with God, asking my dad to drive me to both church on Sundays and youth group mid-week. Every time I was sick – in sixth grade with pneumonia for two months, in seventh grade for mono for three months – I had to reaffirm my faith in God and his ability to get me well. Through every best friend who abandoned me and decided I wasn’t “cool,” enough, I had to make my faith “my own” again and remember that He will always love me. Junior year when I missed six(?) months of school because of an illness that tens of doctors couldn’t identify, I again made my faith “my own” as I trusted that God would get me better, since nobody else could. Freshmen year at Cal I started treatment for an eating disorder that I had developed in high school, and again God was the only one I could lean on. Sophomore year my world was flipped up side down when I circumnavigated the globe, seeing poverty, hardship, slums, townships, other religions, other cultures . . . My world that had before been drawn in black sharpie on white paper became a blur of colors and confusion, and I was terrified I would lose my faith. At first I didn’t want to tell anyone I was questioning, because I thought questioning meant doubting and doubting meant that I was a “bad Christian.” But I didn’t understand how a loving God could let parts of the world be that horrible, or how whole countries filled with people who practiced different religions would be sent to hell. I didn’t understand how to reconcile the more comfortable idea of “everyone has their own truth and you just need to do what’s right for you” with the idea I had grown up with “Jesus is the only way.” I got a tattoo of a Jesus fish on my head. In Roman times, slaves would get tattoos to show commitment to their masters. I thought that if I committed myself in the form of a tattoo, I would somehow have to stay Christian, because I couldn’t not be Christian and have a Christian symbol on my head. I stopped reading my Bible after a year and a half of reading it everyday. The following summer I took a break from Christianity. I went to South America and didn’t even bring my Bible; this compared to a time when I read my Bible everyday while I was traveling around the whole world. The only two times I went to church in South America, I was almost sexually assaulted. Coming back to Cal, I knew that things had to change for me. I felt like I understood “God.” I knew that there was a God, because there have been so many things that I don’t think could “just happen” and so many beautiful things that I don’t think could just “happen to look that way.” And I knew that God was loving, because I have been so incredibly blessed and have felt so incredibly love by God, that I knew that He loved me. Like one time on a retreat, we had “quiet time,” and I decided that instead of talking to God and praying, I would listen. So I sat there . . . and “listened” . . . and got really bored. Then when it was time to go in, I saw had an acorn and had a really, ridiculously strong impulse to pick it up. I don’t know why, and even my head was like, “What are you going to do with that acorn?” But I pocketed it anyways and went on with my day. When I got home later, I went on facebook bumper stickers, and the first bumper sticker said, “Here’s an acorn. I love you.” with a picture of an acorn. Weird, I know. But it happened. So, like I said, I have felt loved by God, and I don’t think that I’m the only one in the world He loves, so I have to conclude that he is a loving God . . . But then I got to the “Jesus” part, and I got stuck. I didn’t know how to think of Jesus, I didn’t have any “proof” of him. I was stuck. I knew I wanted Him back, and I knew I wanted Him in my life, and I knew what that peace of knowing Jesus felt like. But I was still stuck. So I joined the leadership team at church and started leading a triplet, which seems like a weird step. But I knew that they only way I would get anywhere was if I was in the word about it and in discussion about it, so I had to be committed to something. I was upfront about being in a weird phase of questions, but still knowing that I wanted to know Jesus. So I lead a triplet, was a leader for the triplet leaders, was involved in church, talked a lot to Nick, and prayed a lot. I still know that there are a lot of things I don’t know, and honestly I think if I was back in Jesus-times I would sometimes get really annoyed with Him, but I know I love Him, and I know He loves me, and I know about the graceful sacrifice He made for me. He is teaching me His grace, and He is filling me with His joy. And now as I’m slightly homeless and in the dregs of finals, I can still be graceful to those who have hurt me, and joyful in the face of suckiness. And it’s all because of Him. Like I said, we’re tight.

P.S. For the record, I don't think I've "arrived" at all in my spiritual process, and there are still a lot of questions that I don't have the answer to, but I'm going to be corny for a second and say that life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey, and it's not about getting the "correct" answers, it's about asking the hard questions.