An Easter Closet

All you see is darkness.  Your eyes are open and ... now your eyes are closed. Can you tell a difference? No. Because there is no light in here. I mean, there is a little bit of light.. maybe it forms a circle? or a rectangle? You wonder if that must be a way out because you can see something blocking it.  You can sort of see ...something. But it's so far away, or is it so close?

You can taste nothing, none of the richness you have only ever dreamed about.  You yearn to use your tongue, your teeth. In here, there is nothing for you to taste, to eat, to gulp.  In this dark place, you dare not even shout out ...

...because there's nothing to hear either.  The silence is so thin, yet so weighty.  There is so much of it.  What would happen if you break it? What would happen if you said your name aloud? How about if you whispered instead of shouted. In here, is there a difference? Who can hear your soft whimpers and your anguished cries?

And if anyone can hear you, does hear you, how do you find them? It's so dark, there are walls all around you, keeping you in one place, stuck.  There is no clear way forward. You stumble all around,  unsure of what steady stronghold exists for your feet. I wonder if you feel any at all, or if you just trip over and over,

face on the ground. Inhaling dusty and musty kickings-up of whatever may happen to line this space.  The scent of old-ness, clogged-ness, stuck-ness filling your nostrils, seeping into your lungs trying to give you life.. but can they?

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And then God rolled away the stone in front of the tomb. Jesus came out. Jesus came out into new life, into resurrection, into his fullest self.

Or, did God open the closet door? Did you come out? Did you come out into new life, into resurrection, into your fullest self?

~*bL0gging*~

There it is. The top of my tumblr dashboard.  This is my favorite social media platform and you'll never catch my denying it.  Although the first rule of tumblr is very similar to the first rule of fight club, tumblr is quickly becoming a safe haven for the marginalized and a platform for social justice bloggers. (It is also my #1 source on the internet for pictures of cute kittens.) I can post whatever I want of my own original content, and reblog the witty Iquips, photos, and musings of others.  Scrolling through tumblr is one of the ways I read real stories of real people.  Of course, I wondered what is being said about sex-positivism.

There were many photos.  Nude photos. People reclaiming their bodies. Bodies that had been told were not *whatever* enough: skinny enough, tan enough, fair enough, muscled enough, whatever.  There were personal stories about ways people experience sexuality in the world.  Sensuality and (deemed by some as) explicit content was revered, allowing those to be things to celebrate and share in safe spaces.  Some people responded to things like intimate violence and opened up about the ways sex has been very negative in their lives.

There were famous quotes, celebrities and authors speaking out about the ways bodies should be respected.  Some were critiqued for their behavior, designated as sex-negative or sex-positive.  The sex-positive movement was critiqued for being whitewashed, still shaming and excluding people of color, trans*folk, people who are asexual, and forgetting the sexual trauma experienced by too many people.

I scrolled through pages and pages and pages of tumblr and didn't see one mention of spirituality.  Not once was God mentioned in an affirmative way.  None of the work of my classmates and colleagues appeared.  Where is the mention of The Color Purple?  Where are the reflections on a sermon someone heard that conveyed a sex-positive message? Where is the Song of Songs?  Where are there photos of people in collars at protests and marches and rallies?  Where is the prophetic witness?

The work of the church needs to happen in a manner that is so bold, so transformative that people will talk about it.  We need to do work that will make social justice bloggers go nuts. Not just pastors-- if you are a parishioner who wants your children to have accurate and appropriate sexual education, approach your pastor about the Our Whole Lives curriculum.  Talk about these issues in adult education classes.  Let your values live in the organizations to which you decide to donate your mission dollars.

I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called. [ephesians 4:1]

Jesus Christ Superstar?

Last week, I watched Jesus Christ Superstar with my pal Kelsey.  (for homework! #realMDivlife)  It was later in the day and I was a little sleepy, so I decided that the best way to make sure I stay awake was to make every exaggerated claim about the sexual messaging in the film.  For example the hats in this photo are obviously a phallic commentary on the male-dominant power of the Pharisees.

As the evening went on and the sleepier I got, everything became a metaphor for sexual interaction.  The claims I was making got more and more ridiculous.  We laughed and had an awesome time. For homework!

As I've been thinking about it since our movie night, I have been feeling exceptional gratitude for the ability to have studied feminist and queer theory both in college and in seminary.  Whenever I encounter a piece of media, I can read it for its implications and messages that are laced with varying degrees of subtly.  While the vast majority of the comments I was making about Jesus Christ Superstar were very exaggerated, the same knowledge base I had to make those observances is the one I use when I analyze a Cosmo and see them claim that the best (read: only) way to be a woman is to be a heterosexual fair skinned woman whose goals are weight loss and increased male sexual pleasure.

And then I began to wonder about the women, the people, who don't have access to the kinds of formalized education to which I had access. I found myself praying for the lay leaders, the community centers, the after-school programs, the teachers, the pastors, the anyone who can take some of the responsibility for the sexual education of young people.

Sex and (hetero)sexuality wouldn't govern the majority of social exchanges if individuals were equipped and prepared to recognize the way sexuality moves in their own lives and how to appropriately express that in the public sphere.  A first step is talking about it, developing a common language around sexualization and making that accessible.  As an emerging leader in the church, I am eager to be part of this conversation.

Why Rape Culture Is The Worst

Last night, I was walking from a meeting to the bart station.  I walked past two men who were standing outside a fast food restaurant.  One of them said, “hello.” I looked up, gave a half smile (because I value looking at people who address me, affirming their humanity,) and kept walking.  He said, “what? you can’t even say hi?”  I said, “hello” and kept walking.  He said, “you lookin’ cute today.” I said “thank you” without looking and kept walking.  A handful of minutes later, a block from the train station, we met at the same street corner.  The same man said, “ohhh you again!” and kept walking with his friend toward the train station. I crossed the road, went a block, did a lap around a convenience store, and then went out and back toward the train.

The strongest sense of fear overcame me in those moments.  Every terrifying ‘what if’ scenario played through my head and was enclosed within my body.  I felt like I did not have a choice to but to say hi back to a man who made me uncomfortable and I feared what would happen if I did not respond to his “compliment.”

The feminist in me is so angry, so awake.  It knows that no man, no person, is entitled to my body, to talk to me that way without my consent as I pass by.  I do not owe him, or anyone, a response about my appearance.

And yet I feel myself wanting to say, “I was just wearing jeans and a sweater.” To defend myself. To prove that I wasn’t ‘asking for it.’  I do not believe that the victims of the male gaze need to defend themselves this way.  It doesn’t matter what a person is wearing; no person, no woman, deserves to be regarded this way.

The fear I felt was so overwhelming. My eyes filled with tears the entire train ride home, not escaping my eyes until my bestfriend recognized and said, “you have cry eyes.” I was back in my own city and still crossed the street when I saw other people coming down the block- for fear that they were like the man who commented to me.. who recognized me at a busy intersection.

Rape culture is real. This will happen to me again. This, and so much worse happens to women every.single.day. It has got to stop.

My Cup Overflows

In 4th grade, I picked up an oboe for the first time and didn't put it down for 9 years.  The echo of the last chord ringing through an auditorium fills my heart with extreme gladness.  I joined various choirs and to this day you will hear me trying so hard to nail every harmony in an Ingrid Michaelson song.  Over the course of 3 years in highschool, I made a dozen mix tapes for the boy I had a crush on saturated with secret messages of teen angst and unrequited romance.  

When I hear a choir singing a beautiful hymn, I am carried to a place of such deep spirituality.  When that same hymn is contemporized, the comfort swells inside me and I am reminded of expansive ways God is manifest in the world.  A Taizé chant softens my heart to God, to transformation, to the movement of the Holy Spirit.  Because of the solace I take in music, I am able to move through the world authentically without fear because a solid chord progression or key change can bring me right back to center instantly.

I get music. Music gets me.

When I was a senior in high school, my best friend told me that she had made a playlist of songs to listen to while making out.  Having never kissed anyone, I made a face kind of like this:

Freaks and Geeks (1999-2000)

I couldn't understand why that was even a thing. Do you stop kissing someone and say, "oh. hold on. I have a playlist for this"?  What happens when the playlist is done? Do people even kiss that long?  I just didn't get it.. at all.. why did she need to have both of these things at once?

And then I kissed someone.  It felt remarkable, not just physically, but in my spirit.  Because of kissing, I began to understand the world around me so much better because, at last.. finally, I could understand this body in which my spirit dwells.  It tapped into my belief that I can only exist because others exist. I finally knew, tangibly, that someone else existed.

Kissing and music are two elements of what makes my spirit come alive, what makes my heart rejoice and glorify God.  They are part of a myriad of experiences that add up to the way I bear witness to the revealed God in the world.  I can see, now, why my best friend made that playlist.  When you find things that make your spirit come alive, imagine the good it may do to experience both of those things at the same time.

And She Kissed Me Like She Meant It

On Ash Wednesday, many folk in the Christian tradition walk around with an ashen crosses on our foreheads.  We are reminded that humankind, in the narrative form, comes from dusty earth and it is there we will return.  One of the stories goes that God saw that the earth needed a lover, ones who will care for it and cultivate it, so God scooped up some dust and breathed into it.

God kissed us into existence. God's breath mixed with that which would be our own. God recognized that our breath was caught in our throats because we could feel God so close to us and we longed for it.  God released us from that tangled and mangled state into fullness.  A kiss is what brought humankind into its most authentic and original state.  God had breath to share and had to teach us how to gasp it in.  Dust cannot just be formed into the shape of persons and expected to live.  God had to teach us, God had to show us.

On Ash Wednesday, Christians acknowledge that moment of intimacy as part of our narrative.  We remember that God kissed our bodies into being, God shared His breath with us and our spirits grew from that longing.  If it is to dust we shall return when our days on this earth have finished, I pray that God will kiss me again.  I pray that the life I am leading as I walk this ground, the breath that I share so closely with lovers, will help me recognize God when She kisses me again, welcoming my body into the safety of dust.

Fluent in Love

I used to think that in order to love someone, I had to do everything. Take them out to dinner. Buy them flowers. Do their laundry. Tell them all the time how beautiful, kind, and smart they are. I would hug them and say, "I love you."  Spend every free moment with them. If sex was a part of our relationship, I would have sex whenever she wanted, however she wanted. If I loved someone, I would dream them. Adore them. Give everything of myself for them.

Let me say that for a long time, I tried to sustain this lifestyle-- not just with my girlfriends, but with my family and friends as well.  I wanted to say the kindest things.  Buy them the best gifts, even if I couldn't afford them. Stay up too late hanging out because how would they know I loved them if I didn't spend all my time with them?  You may be able to see how unmanageable and, frankly, irresponsible these behaviors are.

So when a friend sent me a quiz online that would tell me what my love language was, I felt kind of curious. I thought I had this love thing on lock. I nailed it. I was doing it right.  I felt this way especially because I come from the Christian tradition.  A tradition that, culturally, upholds the belief that sacrificial love is the ultimate kind of love.  According to any ol' Christian, Christianity will tell you that unless you give absolutely everything of yourself to someone else, like Jesus did, you aren't actually emulating the way Jesus loved.

What does this mean for someone whose love language is physical touch?  I am most meaningfully fulfilled through consensual and appropriate touch.  A kiss on the cheek from a parent. A hug from a dear friend. Sex with a lover. What happens if those things consume my life?  How unsafe is it for me to only know how to express romantic love through sex? What risks do I face?  How can I respect a friend who may have different physical boundaries around hugs or cuddles?  What if I cannot tell my parents and family that I love them without kissing them on the cheek?

It means that the Christian church needs to have a new conversation about what love looks like. Can look like. We need to look at the ways Jesus expressed love, and invited us into love.  Remember that Jesus asked us to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Jesus calls us to love ourselves.  Offer balance... forgiveness... compassion to our_selves. Jesus asks us to be fluent in our own love language.  To know how to use it to sustain us and give us life and also how to help us communicate the intricate parts of our hearts and spirits to others.

#okcupid #Christian #andveryseriousaboutit?

The other day, some friends and I were talking about dating and before too long, we got onto the topic of okcupid.  It's an inevitability.  1 out of 3 marriages begin online, and (if my own dating history is evidence) even more people meet their dates online.  70% of the people I have dated looked through my profile and felt curious enough to meet me in person.

Before our conversation gets too far, someone asks, "so.. do you list your religion or leave it blank?"  We're given such excellent options: 6 mainstream religions (Catholicism even separated from Christianity), atheism, agnosticism, or the (always helpful) "other."  The next drop down box is even more curious:

okcupid, among other dating sites, is one of the primary mechanisms people of all ages use to find everyone from a hook up to their forever love.  Integrating the concept of faith life into the mix is so challenging.  Faith can be just as diverse as the people and sexualities we can find on many dating sites. And yet they can feel to us as superficially related as we feel about a profile that barely reflects the depths of who we are.

So where do we begin?  Sexuality has already recognized that faith is a part of a person's life- and that there are many ways of interacting with it.  Maybe faith is something we are "very serious about."  Maybe we don't exactly know what's going on and are kind of bumbling through until we settle somewhere- and maybe we won't settle anywhere.

I wonder what it would look like if spirituality approached sexuality the same way.  As something to be discovered, a continual process of exploration, something we can take seriously or something we can have fun with.

From where I sit, there is only one place to start: honest expression of both.  I told my friends that on my okcupid page, I do share that I am Christian.  I don't indicate a level of seriousness because that can change a million times a day.  I feel very comfortable merging my faith life with my sexuality. Pouring my spirit into my sexuality.  Placing sexuality as my primary identity, and putting Christianity into it.

What I invite myself to do next is to pour my sexuality into my faith life.  Be a public witness to the way body and love have come together to sustain my spirit in ways equal to that of traditional worship on a Sunday morning.  In contexts where I am asked to be a spiritual person first and everything else second, weave in elements of the way healthy sexuality and bodylove have come to form me as a spiritual being.

Two parts. One whole.

I Made It Til Now

If you have seen me around the months of October and November, you know how strongly I feel about all things Christmas happening far too soon. I get so frustrated as soon as I see advertisements with jingle bells.  My toes tingle with fury at the manifestations of capitalism and addiction to material possessions that bombard every media outlet with which I come into contact.  I wonder why people feel so compelled to skip Thanksgiving and jump right to Christmas.  Despite all the horrid parts of history that are typically glossed over in Thanksgiving celebrations, I think there is value in expressing gratitude- especially in the hopes of encouraging humility.  Thanksgiving, for me, is an important holiday.

I have to swallow my poor attitude and acknowledge that right now, I have strung twinkle lights in my room, added a Christmas channel to my Pandora radio account, burned a spruce scented candle, and prepared hot cocoa (with a dash of candy cane flavored vodka.)  My poor roommates, bless their hearts, heard me belt out Silent Night, Silver Bells, and Baby It's Cold Outside.  My neighbors downstairs heard me hammering into the wall repeatedly in order to get the twinkle lights in just the right spot.  I have given in to cultural Christmas. (Only a week and a half early- mind you!)

The thing is, I miss winter. Snow. Chill. Scarves. Boots. Carols. Walking Tucker in the crisp evening. Decorating a tree. Giggling over old ornaments.  Setting up the manger.  As the semester grows closer to an end and my excitement grows for travels back to the Midwest and the East coast, I find myself longing for the sense of warmth I feel around holiday time.  A few days in December when Christmas feels like the Christmas I have always known is not enough for me this year.  I am hoping to create a sense of holiday, of anticipation of new life, of renewal right here in my own home. My tiny little room.

To those who have felt slighted or judged by my anti-Christmas-Before-Thanksgiving sentiments, I do apologize. I won't be as big of a Grinch this year.

An Act of Self Care

A couple weeks ago, I called my insurance provider and requested a list of mental health professionals within a mile and a half of my address. A list of 5 appeared in my inbox a few short minutes later.  After Googling each of them, I reached out to one. Her response also appeared in my inbox shortly after my request.

And then it sat there. As each day went by, I became more and more aware that the one time slot she still had open in her Berkeley office would probably be filled before I could wrap my head around being in therapy again.  In one of the few moments yesterday when I didn't feel grey and fuzzy all over, I e-mailed her to find out if that spot was still available. Weekly, on Thursdays. 10 am. Three blocks from campus.

On my way to class today, she called. We set our first meeting for this week. Two days from now.  As soon as I hung up the phone with her, there was a shift in my demeanor. I was cheerful, glad for the sake of being glad. Participating in class didn't take everything out of me.  I spent 5 hours with a new friend and conversation flowed easily.  The grey cleared, just for a few moments.

I'm very much looking forward to beginning therapy again.  Seeing Sarah in Nashville this summer helped me grow in ways I didn't know I could.  I am under no illusion that I will address everything that needs to be addressed, or that I will become a brand new person after beginning this new relationship.  What I am, however, expecting is to be a more authentic me.  Authenticity and integrity are two of my strongest core values.  Seeing a therapist empowers me to do both, gives me tools to do both.  While I won't be this public about the contents of my sessions with this new therapist, I will be public about my advocacy for all people to enter therapy.  Even if you don't feel grey or fuzzy, like I have been feelings for a few months, there is nothing as enriching and vibrant as growing further in your understanding of your_self.

here it goes

I am about to do a new thing;
   now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
   and rivers in the desert.
Isaiah 43:19

Here I am again, friends. Seminary is a great place to start shaking up some thoughts in my dusty spirit.  My life feels like that tingling sensation that consumes an appendage when it's waking up from being asleep. It's uncomfortable, maybe even painful, but soon enough (and maybe quite suddenly) the feeling is gone, and you're ready to go- better than you were before.

I hope to use this blog to record some of that tingle.  Seeking prayers on my journey.

A Wee Bit Early

I have figured out my new years resolution. Just one. It was brought to my attention in an adult education session at my church at the beginning of Advent. The idea is simple: spend according to your values. This idea has been on my heart during a season especially associated with spending money. Throughout the course of my life, it's very fair to say that I have not always spent money responsibly. I purchase things I want, or that others want. I don't really think about the impact of my spending.

In this new year fast approaching, I enter into covenant with God to identify my core values (via conversation with close ones and a prayer retreat offered by the leadership of my church); commit them to memory through meditation, prayer, and practice; acknowledge them daily in places I frequent (a list written on a note card taped to a mirror, a "sticky note" on my desktop, a list in my calendar); and make financial decisions based on these values.

I understand that there are portions of my financial commitments that cannot be changed (rent, bills, church pledge), yet there are things that I can control.

For example:

I do not value gluttony and excess, so I will not eat out as often as I have thus far in my life.

I do not value commercialism and materialism, so I will not purchase goods simply because they are on sale or because I have a coupon.

I do value equity and justice, so when I feel compelled to give someone a gift for a birthday or other special occasion, I will make a fair trade purchase.

There is much to learn, much to prepare. Praise God for the season of Advent, that has taught me how to wait and get ready. Amen.

What I Learned

Disclaimer: I could not be more grateful for my life and my family, and the opportunities that have been given to me over the last 21 years. I hope very sincerely that this gratitude is not doubted or forgotten.

That being said: people ask me what I learned in Ecuador. I tell them about language, about service, about culture shock, etc. One thing I shared with my best friend is this: this is the part where I live my life for myself.

In 7th grade, when I was a glorious pre-teen, we moved from Corning to Rochester. I had a new life, for the time being. I knew that when I graduated high school, there was a very good chance that Rochester would no longer be my home. As it was, my family was split up before I left. My mom and I ended up moving to Elmhurst to join my dad about 6 months after he accepted his call here. Home became Niebuhr Hall 211, sort of. Because then, it went to 3 Elm Creek Drive Apt 314, or Apt 116. Then home was West Hall 226A. Then it was Prospect Apt 4, but only for 4 months because then I lived at la esquina de Baron de Carondelet y Pablo Herrera for 4 and a half months. And now, I live at 1012 1/2 North Blvd Apt 42. My idea of home has rarely been defined about the physical place I live, but about the people with whom I share my life.

To be quite honest, I am sick of this. I want church community. I want to be able to serve on a committee and pledge. I want to quit filing change of address paper work. I want to get involved in my community. I want to go to seminary. I am called to seminary. Since sophomore year, I have felt called to Chicago Theological Seminary. I want to be in care with a solid church community. I want to belong somewhere. I want stability, and solidness. I want to be still. I want to get to know a place, and live in it. I want to explore Boys Town and Andersonville and Pilsen and ride the L.

I have spent my life moving and shaking in some way or another, and I really would like to take this opportunity to be still. Know God. Know myself. This weekend, I will be attending a Ministry as Vocation conference at the Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, California. After this weekend, I wonder how I will feel about seminary. I am wondering if it might be time...

Spring Break 2011

It's Tuesday, April 19. Christina calls: "Do you want to go to Galapagos for $400?"

And so it began. Instead of paying upwards of $1200 for a 5 day trip to the Galapagos Islands 525 miles off the coast of Ecuador, I paid $325. For this, I am very grateful. On the morning of Thursday April 21, I boarded an airplane with 15 others. With a stop in the coastal city of Guayaquil, we arrive in the Galapagos Islands early in the afternoon. Within one hour of landing, we've already seen crabs, sea lions, fish, and many different kinds of birds. I want to say that these islands are more beautiful than you've ever imagined. The sunset from our boat (Yate Amigo) was probably the most beautiful I have seen in my entire life. Many of us went to bed early the first night, after a brief orientation from our guide Andres and an excellent dinner, with the excitement bubbling inside for our first snorkeling adventure that we would have the next day.

And was it ever an adventure! Over the course of 3 days of snorkeling, we saw sharks, penguins, sea lions, sting rays, an octopus, and dozens of species of fish. The coral was beautiful. The current was strong and the water was warm. Snorkeling was also an excellent way to tan the entire back side of our bodies. I had never gone snorkeling before, so it was a really cool opportunity for me.

We did some walking on some islands to see things like sea lions and land iguanas. We also walked on an island that was a really cool mix of older island that had become more fertile and (relatively) fresh lava that had cooled in really neat patterns. I actually learned a lot. It was cool to pair that knowledge with the experience of sitting on top of our boat to really experience the way the waves crashed against the rocks in the distance or how the sun looked like it was just taking a rest along the horizon.

We spent two nights on the island of Santa Cruz. It felt so much different than Quito. Everyone and everything was more tranquilo. It was safe for us to walk around at dusk without worrying that our things would be stolen from us and without cat-calls. The first night, there was a small music festival that was really cool. The second night, I went to bed earlier to get up for an early flight back to the mainland. It was an easy day to travel- but I managed to take nearly every kind of transport Ecuador offers! We rode in a taxi/truck to a harbor where we took a boat across the way, took a shuttle bus to the air port, flew back only to take a typical taxi home, then to hop on an overnight bus to a beach! It felt like quite an accomplishment.

I went with some other friends to a beach called Puerto Lopez which is really close to a beautiful beach called Los Frailes. It was awesome as well because the beach was pretty empty since it was the middle of the week. We were able to leave our things on the beach while we all swam together, which was fun. We hiked up to a mirador to be greeted with a beautiful view of the sun kissing the cliffs in the distance and waves chasing each other to a distant shore. We spent a couple of our days there, being transported by (as Christina called it) a tuk tuk.

We also spent a day hiking around a place called Isla de la Plata. On the mainland, it's know as the "poor-person's Galapagos" because some of the same animals can be found there. It was a really cool day with awesome lunch on the boat before we did some more snorkeling. I also jumped off the top of the boat! It was a challenge for me because I'm not the biggest fan of heights, but it was something I wanted to do.

We headed back on Friday evening the 29 and it was one of the worst bus rides I've taken in Ecuador (second to Cuenca, where I was sick every hour) I made it, though, to gear up for the last week of classes and catch up on things before I head back to the states on May 15. The week is going well so far and I'll be back sooner than y'all know it!

Things of Late

01. Two exams, four essays, one presentation left: spread over 3 days of class.

02. Christina and I are in McDonald's and a little Ecuadorian girl says "hi girls" as she passes the first time, "hi girls again" the second.

03. We meet Marco from Germany. We proceed to prepare him his first ever s'more. He proceeds to eat 3 of them.

04. Quito floods- people evacuated from the Trolebús via little raft. Photo here.

05. The power goes out on our block because of aforementioned flood. I am showering, with shampoo in my hair and half of one leg shaved.

06. A lady is parked (literally) on the street corner. To my friend Juliana I say, "seriously?" The lady is right there and says "I'm sorry!" I see her son in the car and say "qué lindo!" (how pretty). I subsequently become the most awkward person of her day.

07. I pay a 25¢ bus fare with fifteen pennies and two nickels.

08. I take an Ecuadorian school bus a third of the way to school. For free.

09. I get irrationally possessive of the host family who is also wearing on me.

10. I register for my last fall semester of undergraduate work.

11. I become increasingly convinced that I will be the owner of a Mac before the end of summer.

12. I spend more than I earn in a month on gifts and souvenirs.

Ok I'm sick of writing like that haha. I really just want this semester to be finished (academically) and I am getting anxious to return to the U.S. but I also know I will cry my face off saying goodbye to my host family. I go back 4 weeks from today. By this time, I will be having Chinese food with my parents. I will go home and sleep in my own bed. I will get up the next day, get a hair cut then have lunch with Julie&Des&Laura. Then I will visit work, and the Niebuhr Center, and the Chaplain's Office. Then I will look for my roommate. I will ride my bike home alone in the dark and not be worried or scared. I am anxious for this..

I am beginning to dislike my volunteer work. It is strenuous to get up and go to work three times a week. I dislike being told the flowers I picked out are ugly. I dislike cutting my fingers when I prepare the vegetables. I especially don't like how I'm not convinced I made a damn bit of difference in the lives of the people I fed for 3 months. I am upset with my program coordinator for not having us write journals and cause us to make something out of this experiences. I am frustrated at the organization where I volunteer for not being more organized and having other things for me to do. I am, in general, just tired of this. Is it because I am not working toward justice?

I am also wondering if it is a spiritual thing. Lent has pretty much been nonexistent in my life while here. I have really not engaged with God in the ways I had hoped I would while here. The first time I prayed in a long time was when I found out Tucker (my dog) was showing signs of getting older and I asked God to help him wait until I got home so I could see him one more time. Between the service work I am doing and simply being in a new place, I anticipated being in a much different spiritual place at this point in my life. I'm not saying it's Gods fault; and I'm not necessarily saying it's my fault, either. All I feel confident in is the spiritual activity I will have when I return to a church community upon my return to the U.S.

So, I guess I am feeling a lot all at once but I also feel kind of disengaged from it.. I have my days and..there they are. I am running out of energy. I don't exactly know where to find it, either. Based on my last paragraph, you'd think I'd know the answer to that problem. I'll chug through the next four weeks and see where I end up.

Vlog

and these could be the happiest days of my life

There are not a lot of Ecua days left. It is kind of getting me down lately. I don't know how I want to feel. I love Ecuador. I am in love with Ecuador. I love the people, even when they annoy or scare me. I love the food, even after the fifth day in a row of having rice. I love the buses, even though they pollute the environment more than ten million aerosol cans. I love doing my laundry and hanging it up on the roof, even if that means nervously getting down to my last pair of underpants. I love the weather, even when I have the annoyance of carrying around a rain coat I won't use. I love the language, even when I have to ask my host family to repeat their sentences two and three times. I love my classes, even though I usually only understand about 80% of what is going on.

I am learning so much here, about myself and about others. I love that I can travel with such ease. It would appear that I'm going to be working intensely on spring break plans; I'm learning how to do all these things on my own. I learn how to ask for help even when I am scared to do so. I am learning how to have bad days and know that they are still a valuable part of my experience. Last night, I left my phone at the bar and I didn't freak out when I couldn't find it. I knew that it would all be alright. While I learned the phrase keep calm and carry on in England, I am learning how to live it in Ecuador. Things happen, but you just have to roll with the punches and work with what you've got.

It's easy for me to be frustrated. There are times when I ask a taxi driver if they know where a certain intersection or place is, and he says yes, and then proceeds to not know exactly where he's going. Or when my shades will not open for the life of me. Or when I trip over the comforter that is about twice as big as my bed. It's easy for me to get annoyed (at myself and others) when I can't convey what I want to say, especially when I feel like I have explained myself very clearly and they still miss the point (cough cough culture professor).

I know this is all over the place, but I just have so many feelings! I think putting them away is just a bad idea. All I really know is that I will not be here much longer and that is terrifying and exciting at the same time.

So, one time, I went to the Amazon

You heard right, loved ones. I spent last weekend exploring and living in part of the Ecuadorian Amazon. The university I attend co-sponsors a biodiversity station in a little place called Tiputini along the Tiputini River. The station is responsible for a lot of really cool research (more about that later) as well as hosting student groups like ours for trips as short as ours (a weekend) to some much longer (weeks or months).

Our trip began very early last Friday morning with about a 25 minute plane ride to a small city called Coca. Ecuadorian airport security is so much different than that in the US- as in, I accidentally got my pocket knife through security. We landed in Coca, which is about the smallest airport I have ever seen in my life. One could easily fit at least 100 of them in the size of O’Hare. We boarded a speedy little boat and set off for a two hour trip on the Rio Napo. We were also given (delicious) bag lunches. The ride down the river was absolutely gorgeous, despite the mud-brown water in which we were cruising. Milijana later informed me that it is that color because of different minerals and wildlife; I believe her. After that ride, we arrived at an oil reserve (which felt aptly out of place in the middle of a beautiful rainforest). Here, we had to go through a security check point and were prohibited from taking photos. We boarded a chiva which is an open aired bus. It was a pretty daunting two hour ride with little room to stretch. This was also a beautiful patch of jungle with some small homes here and there. We arrived at a bridge and climbed down a little path to the Rio Tiputini and got ready for another two hour ride to the station. On our way, we saw many birds and tortugas (turtles) hanging out on logs.

We arrived at the station and had a brief orientation then a break before dinner. We also met up to get our rubber boots that we used to hike all weekend. at this time, loved ones, the moment I dreaded most presented itself. I saw a tarantula. Thankfully, it was in the corner of a dark classroom we were not using. I said to my friend next to me while pointing in its general vicinity, “is that a tarantula?” She responded with, “I think so!” I promptly removed myself from that vicinity and hung out in the boot room. Everyone loved it, and I didn’t see another tarantula for the rest of the weekend! Dinner that night was pretty delicious, and we had so many Oreos. I wish I could remember what we did that night, but the memory se fue (say-fway). That was a joke of the weekend. Our guide, for example, would take us 50 meters off the path on a monkey hunt and then we’d get to where he thought they were and he would say “se fue”, “it left”. Anyway, the electricity is on during limited hours at the station, so we were in bed promptly at 9:30 when the lights went out.

It was appropriate because the next day we got up at 6 to be at breakfast by 6:30. Breakfast was also delicious. Pretty much every meal was delicious. We were in 3 groups; in the morning, the group I was in hiked to el lago (the lake). On the way, we saw many monkeys and insects, really cool plants and mushrooms. There are also hormigas (ants) in the rainforest that taste like lemon when one eats them. Guess what I did? That’s right! I ate ants. Live ones. Right off the stick! It was really awesome. We kept hiking to the lake only to find our little canoe FULL of water. Our guide, Ramiro, promptly began to empty out all the water while we all watched. I ended up in the front of the canoe with a paddle. I was grateful for all the canoe lessons at summer camp. We went for a turn around the lake, and it began to rain. And it rained REALLY hard. As in- all of my clothes were sopping wet. We had a boat ride back to the station because we didn’t have time to hike back. We had a break before lunch in which I changed my clothes (thank goodness). We had a delicious lunch then a descansa (rest).

After lunch, the group I was in went to the torre (tower)which rose to the canopy level of the rainforest. We were able to see birds and monkeys, as well as miles and miles of beautiful, uninterrupted rainforest. I can’t even begin to describe how surreal that was. We spent a good couple hours up there. We climbed back down (160 steps), hiked back, and had a little break before a great dinner. Then that night, we had a presentation about one of the projects the station is working on. They have set up motion and head activated cameras to take photos of nocturnal or rare animals. We saw photos of jungle cats, pig-looking things, and other different creatures. It was pretty stellar.

The next morning, bright and early, we went for a swim in the Rio Tiputini. It was so awesome; the current dragged us along the river in our lifejackets. There were no snakes or water tarantulas or piranhas, thankfully! We jumped off the front of the boat and the water wasn’t even that cold! I will be honest: I peed in the river. Four times. I promptly climbed back in the boat when someone mentioned seeing a water tarantula on the side of the boat. This was the best part: it began to rain, so what do we do? Climb out of the boat into the muddy jungle to look for monkeys. They were gone. So we pretty much just played in the mud.

We went back and had lunch; most of us just stayed in our swim clothes. After lunch, the group I was in went to the puentes (bridges). We were able to climb up about as high as the tower from the day prior and walk on rope bridges (with harnesses) between trees. There was also one that was 10 meters higher than where we were with a little platform to sit and stare around. Absolutely. Stunning. I can’t even think of a way to describe the creation I witnessed. I was terrified to climb the rickety ladder down, but it was still so amazing.

We climbed down, had a nice break then dinner. That night, we took a night trek through the woods with our guides. We saw spiders, some little snakes, and a ton of other bugs. My favorite part was when we turned off our flashlights and just listened to the jungle for a while. It was surreal and I felt so connected to everything. Absolutely amazing. I slept so well that night, so peaceful.

The next day, we did our travel in reverse and got back to Quito really late, but it was worth every second of downpour, every ounce of bug spray, and every terrified glance over my shoulder for a tarantula.

Thanks to my program, IPSL, for paying for this trip and giving me a fantastic opportunity to see part of the world otherwise hidden to me.

Love to you all.

Ecua Thoughts

Well, here I am, shockingly soon.

I was thinking today. I have forgotten what life feels like in the United States. It’s actually quite weird. I forgot what I do on the weekends, how I spend my time. I forgot how to procrastinate the same ways I always have (not to say I don’t procrastinate anymore). I have forgotten what it is like to always understand what is going on around me. I don’t remember (or maybe I have unlearned?) how to manipulate situations to make myself look better. [I’m actually hoping that one will stick…]

I think what I am feeling is humbled. Here, I am not always in control. I have learned how to be a student in a class, not a person who feels above doing homework. I do need to study, do my homework, manage my time. Here, school is coming first. While my classes are not always super, I always do the homework and try to do it well. Not being a master of the language has changed a lot of the way I live my life. I actually need to know the content of my courses because I can’t fluff up essays or quizzes like I could in English. I actually listen in class because if I don’t, I could miss something crucial to the lesson. Essentially, I have been reminded that I am only a person who still has a lot of learning to do, about a lot of things.

I mentioned a little bit about language; I’m kind of nervous to go back to the United States in 74 days. I am realizing that I am in love with Spanish. I want to speak it all day every day. I want to listen to it and talk with people in it. I am so scared that once I get back to the States, I will lose my language. [Shameless plug: if anyone would like to solely speak in Spanish together, please let me know.] I know I will need to make a serious effort to keep up with Spanish and keep learning, especially since I will have completed my major after this semester. Listening to Spanish music or watching tv/movies in Spanish is totally different (for me) than speaking and engaging the language. This will be a challenge, but I want it.

I also am feeling a little … unsettled in my Ecua home. There is nothing wrong with my lifestyle here, just more for me to learn. My apartment literally looks like a Pier One catalog. No one has their stuff anywhere; everything has a place, and if your things aren’t hidden away, it looks shockingly off. This is quite different from what I am used to. If anyone saw my bedroom (ever), one would see posters and pictures and things that individualize me all over the place. That’s something about the Ecua culture that I’m learning more about- collectivism. Just another challenge, but sometimes it gets to me. This morning, for example, I hung my towel over the shower curtain rod to dry properly (normally it hangs on my closet door handle). When I got home today, it was hung back on my door handle. I just didn’t understand why it needed to be moved when no one showered in that bathroom after I left today, no one was home during the day to see it, and we keep the bathroom doors closed almost all the time anyway. I am a person who likes a little mess in her life. It’s been a challenge to learn to live in a very clean, organized way. I will be anxious to see how I balance this in my own place when I get back to the States.

Logistically, I have one more day of both class and volunteering this week. I’ll likely end up leaving volunteering a little early on Friday. This weekend is extended (Monday and Tuesday off from school) to celebrate Carnaval, which is similar to Mardi Gras celebrations. Some of us are heading to a beach for the weekend, pending availability of bus tickets! Carnaval is a huge weekend here, so many people already have tickets. Hopefully we’ll get something worked out. Next week, I have some tests, presentations, and essays happening. It’ll be busy, but I hope to tackle it with a good attitude.

Love to you all.

For Nelson

I've been meaning to blog for a while, but Nelson finally called me out on not writing! So here's an update.

Today, I am sick. I woke up and decided that being around older people with older immune systems (let alone preparing them breakfast and lunch) was not the greatest way I could serve them. I subsequently told my host-cousin I was going back to bed and have been in it ever since. I slept until 11:30 and am on my second movie of the day. I know it might sound like I'm wasting a day, but I'd rather take this time to get better.

Last weekend, I went to a place called Baños. It was ...an adventure. I left volunteering early to head all the way to the south of Quito. I figured out how to get to the second bus station with the help of two other exchange students. I waited around for a bit; there were some scheduling changes with the folks with whom I was traveling. We got our tickets and headed out around 4. That put us in Baños pretty late, but we went out and had a great night. No Ecuadorian's asked me to dance, but that is perfectly fine with me.

We got up the next day and this began my adventure. We had a delicious breakfast at our hostel, then we went horseback riding. I had a hard time deciding if it was an ethical thing for me to do; I didn't like how the horses were dragging their feet or how they didn't get a water break the whole time we were out. I also didn't like that the guide would give them a smack on the hind legs with a thin branch to get them moving. Apparently, my horse was in a bad mood that day, according to my guide. And according to the fact that he kicked a friend's horse in the chest. We got to go see a cool waterfall, then we headed back. Some of the group went puenting, which is essentially bungee jumping without the bungee. I could never do it; I'm so proud of my friends who did.

At this point, I become super melodramatic. The wind blew some dust into my eye that didn't come out until we went to a clinic 4 hours later. More on that in a second. We went canyoning, which is repelling down waterfalls. It could have been a lot of fun for me, but I was mostly just crying and keeping my eye(s) closed because it hurt so much. It was cool to be lowered down a waterfall, but I wish I could have appreciated it more. After that, it was an adventure to the clinic for me. I really appreciate the people who were with me. While sand in the eye sounds like a pretty lame thing to freak out about, I was freaking out like you wouldn't believe. The doctor put some solution in my eye (and didn't poke me in the eye with a needle like I thought he was going to!), got a q-tip and removed the foul grain, as well as an eyelash. He prescribed some anti-inflammatory pills as well as drops (gotas) because the sand had irritated the surface of my eye. I went back to the hostel and slept until the next morning. Other folks went out for dinner, drinks, and a chiva (open bus with music) up the mountain. I was just glad to close my eyes.

The next morning, some of us went to check out the basilica in town, which was gorgeous. After that, we ran pretty late, but four of us took another chiva to see some of the waterfalls; they were absolutely stunning. We got to climb down a mountain and see a beautiful waterfall up close. The hike back up was intense, though! Our other friends rode bikes and went to a different waterfall; because of this, they arrived super close-to-late for our bus home. One of the people in our group did an awesome job stalling the bus for 15 minutes while people made their way. The bus ride home, after that, was restful. It was nice to get back to Quito.

Last night, I went bowling with my family and another exchange student who lives across the hall from me. It was fun. I scored a 44. Roughly. I got a strike on my first ball, and then proceeded to not knock down any pins for about 4 more frames. Yessss.

So, on the whole, I am tired. Mentally, physically. I am close to half way complete with my adventure here, and that scares me. It means that I have to start thinking about my future and I really don't like that. I am in a weird lull/funk and I hope to get out of it soon. Next weekend is Carnaval and so we have two days off from school; I don't really know where I'm going. We'll see! Sorry this isn't much of an entry, but it's still something, right?