Having immersed myself in conservation-minded environmental writers as of late, an abundance of similarities between some of the more prominent conservationists of our time has inspired the following thoughts. The three books I would recommend reading are John Muir (his essay on Hetch Hetchy and My First Summer in the Sierra are referenced here), Aldo Leopold's Sand County Almanac and E.O. Wilson's Creation.
Muir, Leopold and Wilson, all writing about 50 years apart from each other, reached similar solutions to furthering the conservation movement. However, it must be recognized that the difference in decades has an impact on their method of raising a national environmental ethic. For instance, Muir wanted to pave roads through Hetch Hetchy, acknowledging that the more people witness the national park, the more likely they would feel a need to keep and fund it. However, all had one idea in common: we really must feel the wilderness to fully understand why it must be saved.
Muir, like Leopold and Wilson, understood that people needed to see, touch and experience to understand the need for wilderness. Sitting at a desk or never leaving city boundaries for the entirety of one's life will leave little opportunity to understand the importance of conservation.
In Muir's time, there was no idea of the value of untouched, wild lands, hence the installation of roads and hotels in our national parks. Anything that ensures safety from the savage wild- comfort in the wilderness that otherwise does not provide "easy comfort"- would actually benefit Muir's Sierra, and more specifically, Yosemite because of an increase in visitors. Obviously he did not foresee the incredible influx of outdoor recreation and the impact it would ultimately have on our national parks. However, his goal has been realized more than for which we give him credit. The amount of people retreating to the outdoor areas for reprieve from city life has increased - largely due to the industry of outdoor recreation and the comforts it sells. Regardless, city slickers come in droves and find reason to preserve natural lands for the purpose of having a place untouched.
Aldo Leopold, writing in the late 1940s, also recognized the importance of education via wilderness experience. By the '40s, an idea of conservation had been blooming, and, although not always spot-on by today's ideals, was beginning to influence the observation of the human impact on wilderness- that perhaps wilderness does not exist solely for the purpose of man.
Leopold promotes a movement of back-to-basics ethics. Go-light hunting (without gadgets and excessive bullets), low-impact farming and forestry are the topics he ponders. He holds himself to a more rigid standard- one of citizen scientist and observer. He lived on a farm but doesn't farm, thus does not change the landscape, yet he hunts, fells trees and bands birds in an effort to be in touch with his land. He holds the view that education and observation is what will save the little untouched wilderness we have left. Inspiring people with the wilderness out their doorsteps will not only further the study of the world around us- it will also encourage those citizens to realize the delicate details of the biological world: how every soil, bug, bird, tree and mammal has a purpose. Upon this enlightenment, perhaps citizens will reform their impacts.
Leopold calls for a conservation ethic. He asks sportsmen to reconsider their idea of "trophy hunting" and what prize they are getting from fishing out of a stocked pond with a fishing guide to tell them which flies to use and where to locate fish. He also pins the government agencies and their management practices, along with the farmers and ranchers who complain about government intervention for the purpose of conservation, but refuse to make changes to benefit the environment on their own. He illustrates how man historically creates his own demise by lacking foresight and exhausting resources in the quest for immediate human need. No land can go back to being untouched after man has had his way. So much of conservation ends up being retroactive which, unless we change our ways, will no longer serve a purpose because there will be nothing left to save.
Much like E.O. Wilson, Leopold mourns the loss of habitats and the havoc wreaked, consequences of man's actions. Prairies, deserts, forests, Grizzlies, big horn sheep, birds and healthy soil have been, mostly unintentionally, changed because of our thoughtlessness (and lack of education concerning impacts). A little too late we are left to step back and observe the damage with hands tied; damage the directly effects us. The smart ones will say "let us not allow this to happen again." The rest, not learning from history, move on to degrade the next available resource with no thought to an inevitable end.
A similar method is used by E.O. Wilson in his plea to religious leaders. He identifies that an ethic, common to all, is needed to save our few untouched places and save a world that we need, but that doesn't particularly need us. Wilson builds on the ideas of both Muir and Leopold in pointing out the necessity of a wilderness education for the public to better understand what a great, valuable resource we have in leaving wilderness areas untouched. He identifies the need for civilian scientists, just as Leopold, and proposes the idea of large and small-scale "bioblitzs," where people go out in designated areas or regions (one was even held in Central Park) to identify as many species as possible in a set amount of time (usually a week or a weekend). What a spectacular way to get people to observe and help catalog, while experiencing and learning about entire ecosystems in their own backyards.
While this is a great idea, it does not happen on a large enough scale to take place of a more "formal" conservation education. Schools should take part in educating the young- getting them out of the classroom to experience wilderness while learning.
However, Wilson has reached a conclusion that even this will not be enough, and proposes that it is time the spiritual leaders, with their extreme influence over large congregations, support a conservation ethic.
In general, this has not been a priority in the different churches, as most religions preach that time on earth is short, and soon this gross, terrible earth will be left for the beauty of heaven. Therefore, nothing that happens to Earth matters once dead. Wilson pleas for a change so that man does not run himself out of planetary resources by destroying one ecosystem after another with reckless abandon.
How about caring for all living things, not just the human race? How about finding the beauty in all of God's creatures - and recognizing their place in this vast planet that we share? Where in the Bible does it say we shall destroy the creation of God? How about responsible foresight in our land uses, recognizing that we are not the only generation who will be on this earth.
It's time for everyone to tap into what Muir had, even before an established 'ethic.'
The mountains can be a sanctuary.
It is possible to feel close to a higher being while far away from road and building.
There is divine beauty in interactions between soil and insect, trees and birds.
There is a place for wilderness, untouched and simply observed, in our souls.
There is room in there for awe, fear, joy, and the unknown.
If one can tap into this emotion, can experience the burst of the wilderness in one's innermost being, perhaps it will be possible to save these places as we do other temples of worship. Hold them sacred and care for them for generations to come.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Farting is always funny
During yoga class, everything flows freely ... even gas. I've become accustomed to people around me farting in class. It doesn't happen all that often, but when it does, it really doesn't bother me. YOU try to hold it in during rabbit pose. Not so easy.
However, going to a class with my roommate, I realized that not everyone is as comfortable with farting. It's still socially unacceptable and makes people uncomfortable even though it is a natural bodily function, like sneezing, burping etc. I don't know the history behind farting becoming taboo, but it is and Domonique couldn't hold in her laughter when the guy next to us farted.
Ok, you ask, what's the point? Farting is funny to most people? Gosh... brilliant.
No, my point is this: There are certain things that have become socially acceptable and things that are frowned upon simply because of culture, age and religion (and probably a few other things). Often these social norms are norms for a reason: they are the healthy way, or the best for a large number of people (think political systems?).
But I'm finding that more and more elements of my life and way of living are being deemed outside of "the real world" by my family and co-workers. What my parents' generation deems weird, not-acceptable, disappointing, selfish, foolish, etc, is what I'm finding to be my chosen and accepted way of life.
Yes, I want to spend every waking moment outside of my job working out, playing outside and being with friends. What's wrong with that? I don't have a family that is relying on me to cook them dinner and pick them up from soccer practice. Yes, I am a 'stuck up Boulderite' when it comes to what I eat. I refuse to put crap in my body and I think that I get more value from eating less, but fresh and organic, food than eating cheap McDonald's. I prefer living on less income to enjoy more free time while I still have the ability to run, jump, climb, bike and travel than working my ass off until I'm 65 and can't do all of those things. I enjoy change and not sitting in the same windowless office for 35 years for pure survival. What's the point? No, I don't want to settle down immediately and have tons of children and a dog and a picket fence, and a suburban and a dog. No, I'm not sure if there is a God, but I'm also not saying there isn't a god and I'm respecting your opinion. I'm still living my life following moral and ethical codes that are reflective of "Christian" ethics, but removing the judgment. I know God judges, but I'm choosing not to.
My biggest problem is communication. When discussing these ideas and ways of life with my parents, there is no common ground. Our goals are different, our ideals are different, our views are different and our way of listening is different. This leaves me with two options: deny myself and way of life to please my parents, or go my own way and hope they love me enough to eventually realize our differences, get over those differences and accept me with all of those differences included. Heck, they raised me to be the person I am. They sent me to good schools that taught me to look at things in depth before taking what someone tells me as absolute truth. They taught me to love unconditionally. The fundamentals were placed there by them. Now, to get them to understand...
However, going to a class with my roommate, I realized that not everyone is as comfortable with farting. It's still socially unacceptable and makes people uncomfortable even though it is a natural bodily function, like sneezing, burping etc. I don't know the history behind farting becoming taboo, but it is and Domonique couldn't hold in her laughter when the guy next to us farted.
Ok, you ask, what's the point? Farting is funny to most people? Gosh... brilliant.
No, my point is this: There are certain things that have become socially acceptable and things that are frowned upon simply because of culture, age and religion (and probably a few other things). Often these social norms are norms for a reason: they are the healthy way, or the best for a large number of people (think political systems?).
But I'm finding that more and more elements of my life and way of living are being deemed outside of "the real world" by my family and co-workers. What my parents' generation deems weird, not-acceptable, disappointing, selfish, foolish, etc, is what I'm finding to be my chosen and accepted way of life.
Yes, I want to spend every waking moment outside of my job working out, playing outside and being with friends. What's wrong with that? I don't have a family that is relying on me to cook them dinner and pick them up from soccer practice. Yes, I am a 'stuck up Boulderite' when it comes to what I eat. I refuse to put crap in my body and I think that I get more value from eating less, but fresh and organic, food than eating cheap McDonald's. I prefer living on less income to enjoy more free time while I still have the ability to run, jump, climb, bike and travel than working my ass off until I'm 65 and can't do all of those things. I enjoy change and not sitting in the same windowless office for 35 years for pure survival. What's the point? No, I don't want to settle down immediately and have tons of children and a dog and a picket fence, and a suburban and a dog. No, I'm not sure if there is a God, but I'm also not saying there isn't a god and I'm respecting your opinion. I'm still living my life following moral and ethical codes that are reflective of "Christian" ethics, but removing the judgment. I know God judges, but I'm choosing not to.
My biggest problem is communication. When discussing these ideas and ways of life with my parents, there is no common ground. Our goals are different, our ideals are different, our views are different and our way of listening is different. This leaves me with two options: deny myself and way of life to please my parents, or go my own way and hope they love me enough to eventually realize our differences, get over those differences and accept me with all of those differences included. Heck, they raised me to be the person I am. They sent me to good schools that taught me to look at things in depth before taking what someone tells me as absolute truth. They taught me to love unconditionally. The fundamentals were placed there by them. Now, to get them to understand...
Sunday, December 27, 2009
"If yo' problems ain't sovled after a trail run, they ain't gettin solved."
When do things generally come crashing down the hardest? When falling from a really, really high place.
Or in my case, 4 miles out on a snow packed out-and-back trail run.
Today was perfect. Rarely do I use cliche, overused words, but "perfect" is the best way to explain the 4 miles out on the Mesa Trail out of Chataqua. Thanks to cross-country skiers, a majority of the trails were fairly well-packed despite several inches of snow that fell a few days ago. Throwing on my Yaktrax, the mountainous powdered landscape was mine to explore for the afternoon.
Almost through "Born to Run," a book about ultra distance runners and the Tarahumara (a Mexican tribe known for their ability to run hundreds of miles at a time), 8 or 9 miles seemed hardly lifting a finger compared to the Leadville 100.
With this in mind, I threw my head back ... and ran. It felt perfect.
Generally when I run, I do have a goofy smile plastered on my face (especially when I'm in better shape!), but today my lungs felt great, the snow nicely cushioned the downward striking of my feet, the sun burned in a cloudless sky and the 27 degree temperature felt more like 50, leading me to greet every person I passed with a maybe-too-chipper "Hello!!"
When I reached one of my stopping points, I wasn't ready to turn around, so I just kept running. I set out for a favorite, lesser-known trail that, due to bear activity, can only be safely navigated during winter months. The trail cuts between what I assume to be the back of the flatirons and Eldorado Canyon. In short - it is in the midst of some of the most magnificent rock structures I can name and adding snow makes the grandeur even more of a present.
This particular trail was slightly harder to maneuver, but so worth it for the views. Following along the ridge with gigantic formations zig-zagging the skyline to my right, it was hard to stay on the narrow, snowy trail. A few times I gave up, stopped running, and just took it all in with a hint of a tear in my eye. It was truly that peaceful.
As the trail continued upward, the sun began to drop behind the ridge and although still feeling strong, lack of direct sunlight made the winter temperatures seem more real. Content (and then some) with the meditative experience, I flipped a U-turn to head home.
On the way down, feeling even better at the declining elevation, I began thinking what my next blog would entail. Perhaps discuss running injuries and how, according to "Born to Run," running barefoot and childlike embodies how we are supposed to run. Since moving back to Boulder, I've really started to embrace this mode of running. Screw fancy running shoes and people's idea of "perfect form." I run because it makes me happy! And I feel great! My knee (which has a dull ache due to a fairly regular 'giving out' due to too much tennis I think) hasn't even given out in over a year! Smiling HAS to be the best training method.
OW!
And that's when it hit me. The all-too-well-known misstep/wobble feeling that I've grown to fear like the second coming of Christ. My knee goes one direction, the rest of me goes the other, and a sound that only I can hear (maybe I've just made it up and think I hear), like a thick piece of rubber being stretched and then released, only to bobble back and forth until finally settling in equilibrium, makes my stomach churn.
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT OW OW OW OW OW OW OW.
I grab my knee and limp off to the side of the trail (to get out of the way of what? The elk?)
Oh good Lord, I'm 4 miles out in the middle of nowhere, on a snowy trail, I haven't seen even a cross-country skier in 20 minutes and I can't walk. Awesome.
Traditionally when the knee goes out, I immediately hit the couch for a few days to let the swelling go down and then spend up to a month rehabbing and going to the chiropractor. That option was not readily available. In fact, the only option was to walk; mostly downhill on a snowy trail. For 4 miles. In 27 degree weather and setting sun. In only running tights, a drenched base-layer and a thin fleece jacket.
Um, Jess, you can do this. Stop whining. People are starving all over the world in places much colder than sunny Boulder, Colorado. Get over it.
The "people starving" has been my mantra the past month when training begins to hurt. The way I see it, I am lucky to have the time, energy and resources to go running instead of searching for a way to feed my family. I CAN'T complain. Plus, it was only 4 miles. Big deal. Remember the people running a hundred?
Luckily this attitude (and perhaps the perfect day) helped turn what could have been a fairly miserable walk out of the park into a delightfully brisk time of self-reflection and planning. With this injury in the past, it is customary to wallow, call mom and opine the good days when I was never injured, get depressed, and long for running more than I probably do when I am able to run.
Instead I walked. I paid attention to how each step affected each ligament and muscle, how to best walk uphill and avoid the twinge of pain and how to place my heal correctly to keep my knee aligned when going downhill. I thought about my rehab options: Bikrham style yoga, cycling and swimming. After all, I was just saying yesterday that I needed to get back in the pool!
So there you have it. I made it back to my car, home to a hot shower and a roommate asleep on the couch knowing nothing of my "epic" adventure, and with some fresh ginger tea I have a chance to reflect on one of the more beautiful days of running I've experienced in a long time. Had my knee not given out, I probably would have jotted down a few quick ideas about running barefoot and you, reader, wouldn't have been able to share in my delightful adventure.
I suppose everything really does happen for a reason, huh?
Or in my case, 4 miles out on a snow packed out-and-back trail run.
Today was perfect. Rarely do I use cliche, overused words, but "perfect" is the best way to explain the 4 miles out on the Mesa Trail out of Chataqua. Thanks to cross-country skiers, a majority of the trails were fairly well-packed despite several inches of snow that fell a few days ago. Throwing on my Yaktrax, the mountainous powdered landscape was mine to explore for the afternoon.
Almost through "Born to Run," a book about ultra distance runners and the Tarahumara (a Mexican tribe known for their ability to run hundreds of miles at a time), 8 or 9 miles seemed hardly lifting a finger compared to the Leadville 100.
With this in mind, I threw my head back ... and ran. It felt perfect.
Generally when I run, I do have a goofy smile plastered on my face (especially when I'm in better shape!), but today my lungs felt great, the snow nicely cushioned the downward striking of my feet, the sun burned in a cloudless sky and the 27 degree temperature felt more like 50, leading me to greet every person I passed with a maybe-too-chipper "Hello!!"
When I reached one of my stopping points, I wasn't ready to turn around, so I just kept running. I set out for a favorite, lesser-known trail that, due to bear activity, can only be safely navigated during winter months. The trail cuts between what I assume to be the back of the flatirons and Eldorado Canyon. In short - it is in the midst of some of the most magnificent rock structures I can name and adding snow makes the grandeur even more of a present.
This particular trail was slightly harder to maneuver, but so worth it for the views. Following along the ridge with gigantic formations zig-zagging the skyline to my right, it was hard to stay on the narrow, snowy trail. A few times I gave up, stopped running, and just took it all in with a hint of a tear in my eye. It was truly that peaceful.
As the trail continued upward, the sun began to drop behind the ridge and although still feeling strong, lack of direct sunlight made the winter temperatures seem more real. Content (and then some) with the meditative experience, I flipped a U-turn to head home.
On the way down, feeling even better at the declining elevation, I began thinking what my next blog would entail. Perhaps discuss running injuries and how, according to "Born to Run," running barefoot and childlike embodies how we are supposed to run. Since moving back to Boulder, I've really started to embrace this mode of running. Screw fancy running shoes and people's idea of "perfect form." I run because it makes me happy! And I feel great! My knee (which has a dull ache due to a fairly regular 'giving out' due to too much tennis I think) hasn't even given out in over a year! Smiling HAS to be the best training method.
OW!
And that's when it hit me. The all-too-well-known misstep/wobble feeling that I've grown to fear like the second coming of Christ. My knee goes one direction, the rest of me goes the other, and a sound that only I can hear (maybe I've just made it up and think I hear), like a thick piece of rubber being stretched and then released, only to bobble back and forth until finally settling in equilibrium, makes my stomach churn.
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT OW OW OW OW OW OW OW.
I grab my knee and limp off to the side of the trail (to get out of the way of what? The elk?)
Oh good Lord, I'm 4 miles out in the middle of nowhere, on a snowy trail, I haven't seen even a cross-country skier in 20 minutes and I can't walk. Awesome.
Traditionally when the knee goes out, I immediately hit the couch for a few days to let the swelling go down and then spend up to a month rehabbing and going to the chiropractor. That option was not readily available. In fact, the only option was to walk; mostly downhill on a snowy trail. For 4 miles. In 27 degree weather and setting sun. In only running tights, a drenched base-layer and a thin fleece jacket.
Um, Jess, you can do this. Stop whining. People are starving all over the world in places much colder than sunny Boulder, Colorado. Get over it.
The "people starving" has been my mantra the past month when training begins to hurt. The way I see it, I am lucky to have the time, energy and resources to go running instead of searching for a way to feed my family. I CAN'T complain. Plus, it was only 4 miles. Big deal. Remember the people running a hundred?
Luckily this attitude (and perhaps the perfect day) helped turn what could have been a fairly miserable walk out of the park into a delightfully brisk time of self-reflection and planning. With this injury in the past, it is customary to wallow, call mom and opine the good days when I was never injured, get depressed, and long for running more than I probably do when I am able to run.
Instead I walked. I paid attention to how each step affected each ligament and muscle, how to best walk uphill and avoid the twinge of pain and how to place my heal correctly to keep my knee aligned when going downhill. I thought about my rehab options: Bikrham style yoga, cycling and swimming. After all, I was just saying yesterday that I needed to get back in the pool!
So there you have it. I made it back to my car, home to a hot shower and a roommate asleep on the couch knowing nothing of my "epic" adventure, and with some fresh ginger tea I have a chance to reflect on one of the more beautiful days of running I've experienced in a long time. Had my knee not given out, I probably would have jotted down a few quick ideas about running barefoot and you, reader, wouldn't have been able to share in my delightful adventure.
I suppose everything really does happen for a reason, huh?
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Paint the world yoga and glitter
Perhaps it was yesterday's snow hiding the sun that powers me, or maybe I had a case of the Mondays; whatever caused the mood in which I found myself by 2 p.m. was no good thing.
Every once in a great while when not peeing glitter, I find myself in an introspective mood, which generally results in secluding myself to the floor of the living room, surrounded with paints and a playlist labeled "Thinking Songs" blaring, leaving only to go to yoga class(es). Art has been the outlet lately, when I was younger I used to write in the same manner.
The thing about painting is that it never gets me out of my mood; rather, it enables the mood and allows introspective thoughts to get significantly more intense - almost trance-like. When someone eventually walks into my house I snap out of what feels like a crazy dream.
I had a few good, pure hours sans interruption to wander and several times met with anxiety over my world trip. I am being selfish in doing this trip, the only reason I am helping at the orphanages is to make myself feel better about this ridiculously amazing vacation, what is going to happen when I get back home and I have to re-start my life in the midst of everyone else whose life never stopped, I'm going to be a different person, can I handle myself on a world-scale, how am I going to make this work financially, I can't even be away from my family for the holidays - how will I manage for an entire year, there is no way I am going to find the right place to study yoga in India - have you SEEN the size of that country??!?!?! On the flip side ... what if I don't want to come home.
I have a feeling that i will look back on the questions in two years and laugh at myself. Luckily that is a skill I have already mastered.
The clock stopped the train this time; 6:15 yoga class proved itself a humble adversary to my distraught world. The class after that one was even more cleansing and I returned to the living room several hours later to art supplies everywhere with little desire and no clue as to where I was just a few hours earlier.
I put away the paint and glitter and went to bed content.
Every once in a great while when not peeing glitter, I find myself in an introspective mood, which generally results in secluding myself to the floor of the living room, surrounded with paints and a playlist labeled "Thinking Songs" blaring, leaving only to go to yoga class(es). Art has been the outlet lately, when I was younger I used to write in the same manner.
The thing about painting is that it never gets me out of my mood; rather, it enables the mood and allows introspective thoughts to get significantly more intense - almost trance-like. When someone eventually walks into my house I snap out of what feels like a crazy dream.
I had a few good, pure hours sans interruption to wander and several times met with anxiety over my world trip. I am being selfish in doing this trip, the only reason I am helping at the orphanages is to make myself feel better about this ridiculously amazing vacation, what is going to happen when I get back home and I have to re-start my life in the midst of everyone else whose life never stopped, I'm going to be a different person, can I handle myself on a world-scale, how am I going to make this work financially, I can't even be away from my family for the holidays - how will I manage for an entire year, there is no way I am going to find the right place to study yoga in India - have you SEEN the size of that country??!?!?! On the flip side ... what if I don't want to come home.
I have a feeling that i will look back on the questions in two years and laugh at myself. Luckily that is a skill I have already mastered.
The clock stopped the train this time; 6:15 yoga class proved itself a humble adversary to my distraught world. The class after that one was even more cleansing and I returned to the living room several hours later to art supplies everywhere with little desire and no clue as to where I was just a few hours earlier.
I put away the paint and glitter and went to bed content.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Meditative motion
I was reminded by a friend that some of you whom I do not see day in and day out may want an actual life update and not just religious musings. Hence, this extravagantly snowy day seems ample to type an update of sorts.
Still working for my father's asphalt company has finally reaped rewards as the snow falls. Seasonal work on a salary doesn't get much better in Colorado, where climbing, running, etc. can still be done in the winter. However, office work in general has me antsy ... which was more than to be expected when taking this position. Luckily two dear friends of mine, Chase and Johnny, and I are planning to travel the world come next August when our leases expire. We've been saving for 3 or 4 months and have 9 more to go. We are planning on buying tickets in a month or so. I have NOT spilled the beans to the parental units yet, (although the can of beans will be spilled this week) but I'm hoping dad lets me keep my job until I leave, under the threat of me moving back into the basement unemployed, indefinitely.
Our hopes are to take a year for the trip (or until funds expire), however the list of visits has not been finalized by any means at this point. All three of us are climbers so undoubtedly there will be some scaling of rocks. If anyone has contacts anywhere remotely interesting, please send them to me because we would love to save money anywhere we go by crashing on floors and helping out any way we can in return.
I plan on taking a yoga teacher training course in February and toting my yoga mat with me around the world, learning and teaching yoga wherever possible. The inspiration for this element of the trip came from the complete and euphoric end that comes from yoga, tied with the realization that Corepower yoga in Boulder is certainly not close to the deepest spirituality one can experience in the practice. Additionally, I'm hoping that this is a way to meet people of similar interests in different cultures. Perhaps it will be a common ground on which to compare beliefs and practices all over the world, not to mention that in my experience, I generally learn more when teaching.
Prior to leaving I am also hoping to get involved with Kimmy's House, an orphanage in Hyderabad, India that my dad visited last year. The founders of the orphanage are friends of my parents and started the orphanage after visiting India and seeing a need for housing and care of disabled children. They are also starting a similar orphanage in Haiti, and I would love to help out in both place if at all possible. It is so easy for trips of this manner to be self-centered and all about my personal experience, but I am going to make an effort to give of myself as much as possible.
Realizing that I have huge hopes and quite a lot of plans for this trip, I am also going into the whole thing knowing I will have to be extremely flexible and patient and let things happen. Being 23 years old and not tied down, this is an opportune time for travel of this sort. I welcome any advice, encouragement, thoughts and prayers.
Other than this trip which has become the inspiration to go to work every day, the only other updates are: I'm not climbing as much as I used to, which is sad in more ways than one. I am working one night a week at the Spot (climbing gym), reading a ton, painting, running and doing yoga with Domonique about six days a week. Johnny is living in my basement with me (I have the bedroom and he has made what used to be my "study" into his room, which has worked out well) so all four of us in the house are only paying $300 a month for rent, which in Boulder, is ridiculously cheap. I'm happy, but ready to explore. Boulder is getting small and as much as I love it, I have begun to realize how much of a bubble it really is.
I think that should sum it all up. I would love to get updates from those of you I haven't spoken with in a while.
Prior to leaving I am also hoping to get involved with Kimmy's House, an orphanage in Hyderabad, India that my dad visited last year. The founders of the orphanage are friends of my parents and started the orphanage after visiting India and seeing a need for housing and care of disabled children. They are also starting a similar orphanage in Haiti, and I would love to help out in both place if at all possible. It is so easy for trips of this manner to be self-centered and all about my personal experience, but I am going to make an effort to give of myself as much as possible.
Realizing that I have huge hopes and quite a lot of plans for this trip, I am also going into the whole thing knowing I will have to be extremely flexible and patient and let things happen. Being 23 years old and not tied down, this is an opportune time for travel of this sort. I welcome any advice, encouragement, thoughts and prayers.
Other than this trip which has become the inspiration to go to work every day, the only other updates are: I'm not climbing as much as I used to, which is sad in more ways than one. I am working one night a week at the Spot (climbing gym), reading a ton, painting, running and doing yoga with Domonique about six days a week. Johnny is living in my basement with me (I have the bedroom and he has made what used to be my "study" into his room, which has worked out well) so all four of us in the house are only paying $300 a month for rent, which in Boulder, is ridiculously cheap. I'm happy, but ready to explore. Boulder is getting small and as much as I love it, I have begun to realize how much of a bubble it really is.
I think that should sum it all up. I would love to get updates from those of you I haven't spoken with in a while.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
BSF Week 2: Greater, less and the lesson in selflessness
Week two of Bible study passed much more smoothly than week one, perhaps due to preparedness. One of the greater challenges has been to maintain an open mind in hopes of applying some of the great life-lessons present in the Bible and put aside disgust for organized religion.
Although not completely convinced of the spirituality of Jesus and God, Jesus' teachings, and the events surrounding his time here, are timeless and have thus far proved introspective. John the Baptist has become a favorite character of mine, as has "doubting Thomas." John the Baptist because of his unquestioning loyalty, devotion and selflessness, and Thomas because of his questions and need for concrete, physical evidence.
John knows his entire life that he is serving one purpose: to make a path for Jesus' arrival. His comment, "He must become greater, I must become less" (John 3:30) speaks of his devotion to Jesus, but also inspires placing others before ourselves. If this Christian belief were more wide-spread, perhaps there would be less need for government intervention because the world would be filled with Mother Theresas.
On a personal scale, Dad brought my own selfishness to my attention and (unintentionally) made me realize that my perspective of "selfishness" was mainly in relation to tangible objects (the child's version of selfish ... not sharing toys). I always wonder how my family is always calling me selfish when I have minimal possessions, never ask for anything, etc. However, family demands time. Perhaps it is flattering that there exists a group of people happy simply with presence. Friends are the same way, and we Boulderites are potentially the worst group of people when it comes to spending time with friends. I've heard people admit (and others who just do this unintentionally) that they make multiple commitments to friends for the same time-slot and pick whatever is most interesting or sounds like the most fun at the time. I can't think of a more selfish mindset. What's worse, I'm guilty.
So, although that was quite a tangent, John the Baptist has led to reassessing priorities with friends and family in an effort to put others first, and at least be honest and realistic with time management.
More on Thomas later ...
Although not completely convinced of the spirituality of Jesus and God, Jesus' teachings, and the events surrounding his time here, are timeless and have thus far proved introspective. John the Baptist has become a favorite character of mine, as has "doubting Thomas." John the Baptist because of his unquestioning loyalty, devotion and selflessness, and Thomas because of his questions and need for concrete, physical evidence.
John knows his entire life that he is serving one purpose: to make a path for Jesus' arrival. His comment, "He must become greater, I must become less" (John 3:30) speaks of his devotion to Jesus, but also inspires placing others before ourselves. If this Christian belief were more wide-spread, perhaps there would be less need for government intervention because the world would be filled with Mother Theresas.
On a personal scale, Dad brought my own selfishness to my attention and (unintentionally) made me realize that my perspective of "selfishness" was mainly in relation to tangible objects (the child's version of selfish ... not sharing toys). I always wonder how my family is always calling me selfish when I have minimal possessions, never ask for anything, etc. However, family demands time. Perhaps it is flattering that there exists a group of people happy simply with presence. Friends are the same way, and we Boulderites are potentially the worst group of people when it comes to spending time with friends. I've heard people admit (and others who just do this unintentionally) that they make multiple commitments to friends for the same time-slot and pick whatever is most interesting or sounds like the most fun at the time. I can't think of a more selfish mindset. What's worse, I'm guilty.
So, although that was quite a tangent, John the Baptist has led to reassessing priorities with friends and family in an effort to put others first, and at least be honest and realistic with time management.
More on Thomas later ...
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Oh Lord Jesus, Jesus God, Savior Jesus, father God ...
"Disappointment is missed expectations": one of my father's favorite quotes that best explains an uncomfortable experience of late.
My parents, being very rooted in the Baptist religion, have for some time been concerned for my soul. Being raised in the Baptist church, their feelings are understandable and appreciated on my end. I have learned over the past four or five years that it is far easier to accept their concern, attend church on occasion with the family, keep my mouth shut about my doubts and ask "good" questions once in a while to maintain a healthy relationship with the 'rents.
In exchange, there are few judgmental, harsh arguments and the emotional conversations are kept to a minimum. If this happens on purpose, I'm not sure. But I like to think that we had reached an equilibrium.
Notice the use of the word "had."
Scene: I am now working for my father. He owns a business where every employee in the office is openly Christian. Being the wonderful human being that he is (honestly, the person I admire most), he allows the ladies in the office to attend Bible Study Fellowship during work hours.
*Definition: Bible Study Fellowship- A 50 year old organization started by a reputable missionary woman. The study takes one book of the Bible over 6 months and studies it in depth. There are groups all over the world: men's, women's, youth, young adult, etc. that all study the exact same thing. The group meets once a week in small groups to discuss a series of study questions, some directly relating to the Bible passage and some concerning life application. This is followed by a lecture.
My parents have both been doing BSF since I was a small child. In fact, my sisters and I went to BSF with my mom instead of attending preschool. My dad is a group leader and my mother is a children's leader. One lady told me, "you come from a BSF Nazi family!" like it was a good thing...
But of course I digress...
After several tearful discussions with my father about his supreme disappointment that when we both die he won't have one of his best friends (me) with him for eternity, he started bringing up me attending BSF. Not being one for organized religion at all, I told him no. He then went on to explain that BSF is non-denominational and that he has even had men of varying religions (Hindu, Muslim) that simply wanted to study the Bible. He promised that there is no praying except over group meals occasionally, I will never be asked to pray and people aren't allowed to discuss what religion they are or from which church they come.
Being out of school and not having directed learning has been getting to me lately, and I admit I had a weak moment when he brought up the word "study." I told him I would think about it.
We walk into the office and what does Daddy-o say to the very Christian ladies? "Guess what? Jess is going to do BSF with you guys on Wednesday!" Response: "YEY!!! Oh we are so happy!! We've all been praying for you!"
Me: "Dad. Your office. NOW."
Needless to say, I was douped into going to BSF. Dad and I came to an agreement that he would pay for half of my yoga teacher training in February if I go to BSF. So, I've been doubed and bribed. Regardless, I'm going.
I spent all of last weekend catching up since I started two weeks late. I went into last Wednesday feeling prepared and relaxed.
Until I walked into the Circle o' Feelings.
The Circle is homogeniously comprised of white, Christian, married women ages 26 to 40 who either have multiple children or are on the way to having multiple.
The answers that I labouriously prepared all weekend, quoting text from other books of the Bible even, were brushed off with polite smiles while answers relating to how Jesus changing water into wine made one mother feel she needed to change how she dealt with her oldest son who had organizational problems were greeted with applause. This went on the entire time. I did learn a few things from one person who actually worked with the text instead of her feelings. That was nice. One person out of 11. It's a start.
After we went over prayer requests and discussed the upcoming fellowship "where we can get to know each other by sharing how God has changed our lives," I made it back to the office in a dazed mood, got back into my car and started to cry.
I wasn't sad, that's for sure. Probably a little sorry for myself. I was part mad at my father for deceiving me and manipulating me into a situation where I'm completely out of place, awkward, and hardly learning. But most of all I think I was just mad at the women, which I know is not fair. There was one question that I knew upon answering it was a complete and total joke: "How do people show 'false faith' in the present day?" My answer was that the majority of Christians I see go to church on Sunday, decide they are going to heaven and can therefore judge those who, for some reason, they have deemed part of the group not getting in, and lead normal, largly secular lives (other than telling everyone they will pray for them) the rest of the week.
The funny thing is, most of the ladies had similar answers. And they allllll rolled their eyes and openly judged "those people who do that" and then ended with a prayer that started something like, "Oh precious, Lord Jesus God almighty ...." (Why can't you just speak to him normally? Why the show?). It was more than I could take. So, tears.
Anyway, more to come next week I'm sure. Jesus just changed water to wine (we are reading the book of John), so we have a few miracles left and then rising from the dead so it's bound to get better, right?
My parents, being very rooted in the Baptist religion, have for some time been concerned for my soul. Being raised in the Baptist church, their feelings are understandable and appreciated on my end. I have learned over the past four or five years that it is far easier to accept their concern, attend church on occasion with the family, keep my mouth shut about my doubts and ask "good" questions once in a while to maintain a healthy relationship with the 'rents.
In exchange, there are few judgmental, harsh arguments and the emotional conversations are kept to a minimum. If this happens on purpose, I'm not sure. But I like to think that we had reached an equilibrium.
Notice the use of the word "had."
Scene: I am now working for my father. He owns a business where every employee in the office is openly Christian. Being the wonderful human being that he is (honestly, the person I admire most), he allows the ladies in the office to attend Bible Study Fellowship during work hours.
*Definition: Bible Study Fellowship- A 50 year old organization started by a reputable missionary woman. The study takes one book of the Bible over 6 months and studies it in depth. There are groups all over the world: men's, women's, youth, young adult, etc. that all study the exact same thing. The group meets once a week in small groups to discuss a series of study questions, some directly relating to the Bible passage and some concerning life application. This is followed by a lecture.
My parents have both been doing BSF since I was a small child. In fact, my sisters and I went to BSF with my mom instead of attending preschool. My dad is a group leader and my mother is a children's leader. One lady told me, "you come from a BSF Nazi family!" like it was a good thing...
But of course I digress...
After several tearful discussions with my father about his supreme disappointment that when we both die he won't have one of his best friends (me) with him for eternity, he started bringing up me attending BSF. Not being one for organized religion at all, I told him no. He then went on to explain that BSF is non-denominational and that he has even had men of varying religions (Hindu, Muslim) that simply wanted to study the Bible. He promised that there is no praying except over group meals occasionally, I will never be asked to pray and people aren't allowed to discuss what religion they are or from which church they come.
Being out of school and not having directed learning has been getting to me lately, and I admit I had a weak moment when he brought up the word "study." I told him I would think about it.
We walk into the office and what does Daddy-o say to the very Christian ladies? "Guess what? Jess is going to do BSF with you guys on Wednesday!" Response: "YEY!!! Oh we are so happy!! We've all been praying for you!"
Me: "Dad. Your office. NOW."
Needless to say, I was douped into going to BSF. Dad and I came to an agreement that he would pay for half of my yoga teacher training in February if I go to BSF. So, I've been doubed and bribed. Regardless, I'm going.
I spent all of last weekend catching up since I started two weeks late. I went into last Wednesday feeling prepared and relaxed.
Until I walked into the Circle o' Feelings.
The Circle is homogeniously comprised of white, Christian, married women ages 26 to 40 who either have multiple children or are on the way to having multiple.
The answers that I labouriously prepared all weekend, quoting text from other books of the Bible even, were brushed off with polite smiles while answers relating to how Jesus changing water into wine made one mother feel she needed to change how she dealt with her oldest son who had organizational problems were greeted with applause. This went on the entire time. I did learn a few things from one person who actually worked with the text instead of her feelings. That was nice. One person out of 11. It's a start.
After we went over prayer requests and discussed the upcoming fellowship "where we can get to know each other by sharing how God has changed our lives," I made it back to the office in a dazed mood, got back into my car and started to cry.
I wasn't sad, that's for sure. Probably a little sorry for myself. I was part mad at my father for deceiving me and manipulating me into a situation where I'm completely out of place, awkward, and hardly learning. But most of all I think I was just mad at the women, which I know is not fair. There was one question that I knew upon answering it was a complete and total joke: "How do people show 'false faith' in the present day?" My answer was that the majority of Christians I see go to church on Sunday, decide they are going to heaven and can therefore judge those who, for some reason, they have deemed part of the group not getting in, and lead normal, largly secular lives (other than telling everyone they will pray for them) the rest of the week.
The funny thing is, most of the ladies had similar answers. And they allllll rolled their eyes and openly judged "those people who do that" and then ended with a prayer that started something like, "Oh precious, Lord Jesus God almighty ...." (Why can't you just speak to him normally? Why the show?). It was more than I could take. So, tears.
Anyway, more to come next week I'm sure. Jesus just changed water to wine (we are reading the book of John), so we have a few miracles left and then rising from the dead so it's bound to get better, right?
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