On a Contrary Note

I really don’t want to be doing this.

I don’t want to be studying for two more years so I can get a higher paying job.

It’s one of these moments again where I remember that all I want to do is open a haven of good coffee, used books, and local art, and/or start it all over again and become a potter or a linguist.

I don’t care about those high-power jobs lurking in the future. I don’t mind being broke. I just want to revel in the simple things.

And right now, I am, honestly, perfectly, happy.

I like living in my tiny apartment with three other women, with light switches and outlets and thermostats all hung at crooked angles, cranking the heat down in the winter to save electricity and walking around wrapped in my blanket toga.

I’ve got a kettle for my tea, a press for my coffee, and loads of British TV on youtube. I’m unsure what else I could need.

I’m worried that my aspirations for the future will be far below my pay grade, and I’m worried that I’ll mind.

It might just be one of those cold days where drinking tea seems like the world’s best occupation, and the 2×4 of reality will hit me upside the head tomorrow.

In other news, I have just burned a second batch of rice.

The Reichenbach Fall

I may or may not be slightly convinced that there’s a phoenix on this seal. Thoughts?

From the As-Yet Unpublished Archives

This post is dedicated to two excellent individuals. First, to Mr. Nathan Biberdorf, who actually reads my blog. Second, to Mr. Fenton McKnight, who composed this excellent piece with me over four years ago. Something reminded me of it, so I thought I’d post it, mostly for no good reason.

A Ten-Second-Long Discourse on Peas
by Fenton McKnight and Sylvia Daire

Ew peas.
Ew texture.
Ew taste.
Too sweet.
Yes.
Texture mushy.
Yes.

And now that you’ve been sufficiently enlightened and bestowed with knowledge, good night!

El Fin

This, my friends, is the end. Here, at the end of all things … well, just two. My twitter account and this blog. And honestly, it’s not forever. If I am in dire straits and posting “SOS” on hashamayim.wordpress.com will save my life, I will have no qualms whatsoever.

The intent of this discontinuation is the re-evaluation of my public vs. private life. Why do I have a twitter? Why blog at all? Primarily, it has been a good venue for expressing my thoughts, but when it comes down to it, I have to wonder–to whom? So, I leave these public arenas for more private reflections, for several reasons.

First, for security concerns. I’m not sure that broadcasting such varied information about myself so openly is as great an idea as I thought.

Second, for humility reasons. It’s so easy for me to hope that someday I’ll be a well-known blogger, or even that my friends who do read this blog will be impressed with what I write. I don’t need any more pitfalls in my life where pride can easily lurk.

Third, for lifestyle reasons. All in all, I desire that my trajectory in life would be one of more simplicity than the norm. For this purpose I purge my closets, hang my laundry to dry, and recycle, recycle, recycle. And I’m learning to sew. Technology is not, in and of itself, an evil, but I have found that for me it can become a dangerous distraction. Thus, the less I entangle myself the better. Besides, I’ve been woefully neglecting my own personal journal, which is really what has benefited me most in the past.

I will now be spending any social networking time on facebook. This is ironic, because the next blog post I had planned was to explain why I liked twitter better than facebook. (It’s true–facebook is hypocritical and calls the people you stalk and who stalk you “friends,” while twitter is much more straightforward and calls them “followers.” Etc.)

However, for my intents and purposes (maintaining friendships), facebook is much more useful, seeing as I know more people on facebook than on twitter, and communicate with them more there than on this blog. Maybe someday I will return, when I have more maturity to deal with technological clutter, but for now it’s goodbye.

Pondering.

“…but I don’t need her love to love her all I can.”

Andrew Peterson, “The Coral Castle”

But is that emotional expense even worth it?

Bad Idea #473

….Considering using the clothesline as a zip line.

And, to counter this bad idea (which I didn’t actually carry out, by the way), a good idea, some gratitudinal thinking:

#37 – Evidence of the Spirit working in my heart.

#38 – Knowledgeable doctors

Fear

I can look back now without trembling or anxiety. But at that moment, the Enemy seemed unconquerable.

The back roads of Tennessee had never felt so frightening, but almost exactly one year ago, I couldn’t explain the depths of the fear I felt as we drove down them in the dark. Even more eery was the fact that we all felt something amiss; one of us said the night was reminiscent of a supernatural thriller.

But even when I stepped inside that warmly lit kitchen in the house of my family, I couldn’t shake the fear. It gripped me and I knew this was not ordinary.

We ran through a multitude of verses courageous and I already knew them but they wouldn’t travel from my head to my heart. We prayed and cried out for Jesus’ protection of my heart and soul and mind.

Tonight as I thumbed through pages 510-511 of my Bible, I came across Psalm 118:17, double underlined in black and blue: “I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord.” And written next to it in my handwriting: “April 4, 2010: Yahweh has power over fear!”

And on last year’s April 4 I murmured that promise, that challenge, that choice to myself as I fell asleep in my cousin’s bed. As I laid there, I imagined a huge fortress wall around the bed, and my Father God whispering to me,  ”I will fight for you, you need only to be still.” And I claimed Psalm 4:8 over and over: “I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, oh Lord, make me dwell in safety.”

As they say, the battle was won, but it was just the beginning of the war. For months afterwards, uncontrollable fear was a constant adversary. The only way I could sleep was to claim the power of Jesus over me, to rest in his strength, to give the fight to him. And finally, on August 10, I wrote: “Recently I was lying in bed and realized that not only did I not have thoughts of fear at that moment, but I had conquered them through Jesus. Fear was gone.”

I don’t particularly know why I share this with you now, but it’s probably because I see myself as only a small part of this story. I am honored to have been given a glimpse into the miraculous power of Jesus Christ.

So Here’s the Problem.

So now, for those whom I haven’t alienated by seeming exceedingly arrogant, I’ve got thoughts on education.

I’ve always been a good student, and I like learning. Yeah, I’m one of those. Now one of my part time jobs is being a classroom aide, and I get to see my own high school teachers’ perspectives on educating. The English teacher I work with says that it’s so much more fun and rewarding to teach students who may not get the best grades but who are engaged in the material, as opposed to kids who put forth effort only to get the grades, putting no heart into their work.

As an obvious college expert (having graduated two months ago), I’ve seen this same attitude in the typical undergraduate’s approach to college, especially general education classes.

I don’t mean at all to place myself outside of my scathing comments, having made many of these remarks myself, doubting the value of a class, bemoaning the ineptitude of a boring professor.

But what’s got me thinking recently is the common expression, “Why do I need to take [Class X]? It has nothing to do with [Profession/Major Y]!”

I can see two problems with this line of thinking. First, career paths change, and many graduates follow completely different paths than their majors would suggest. So it’s not too far to suggest the possibility that a class will have bearing on a future profession. Still, it is a stretch to imagine that Finite Mathematics will come into play much in the life of a studio artist, and that’s where my second point comes in.

It seems to me that we’ve lost the desire to become Renaissance men and women. We’ve gone so deep into our specialties that it’s no longer valuable to have a breadth of knowledge or skills. Our view focuses so much on what I want to do but forgets that that’s not the only element in who I want to be.

I often mention what I would have done in my “other lives,” interests I would have pursued if I weren’t going into counseling. These include photojournalism in dangerous/obscure locations, potter/hermit, teaching literature, and linguistics.

The difference between these pursuits and gen ed classes is the fact that I’m actually interested in these while the typical student wants nothing to do with “pointless” classes. But they’re similar in the fact that both are completely unrelated to my future profession.

Part of education’s purpose is to give us tools for our professions, but there is so much more to it than that. We are being equipped to be better, well-rounded people, members of community, citizens of the world. It saddens me to see that in so many ways we have lost the love of learning, only seeing it as a means to an end.

But without more than a basic understanding of science and math, I could not appreciate books like these as fully. Not that I’ve read that book specifically. That’s definitely beside the point.

Pertinent (Perhaps) Ponderings Pertaining to Pacifism and Present Political Powers

I’m not against personal pacifism; as a matter of fact I am all for it. It’s signature of one part of my heritage, so I guess you could say it’s in my blood. But it’s also a deliberate choice I’ve made, a way I’ve decided to orient my life.

But in this world that’s become increasingly restless in the past few months, I have begun thinking of the implications of a more general, national pacifism. What does it look like for a nation to take this stance? Is it even practical or possible?

NPR has interviewed various figureheads recently about the multilateral involvement in Libya. One pundit praised the intervention, and another questioned its needfulness. After all, this is Libya’s own private civil war, so why should the international community get involved? I found myself tending to agree with him, wondering why the US always felt the need to stick its grubby hands in everybody else’s business.

And then they interviewed a Libyan man who used to be high up in Gadhafi’s government but defected to the rebels, a man who could not tell the interviewer his location because Gadhafi currently has a price on his head. His response to the international involvement? “This needed to happen. It prevented a massacre.”

A massacre.

And suddenly my thoughts fell back to a bench outside the Genocide Memorial Centre in Kigali, Rwanda, where I sat weeping. Of all the turmoil in my mind that sunny June day, the one thought that surfaced the most was, “Why did no one care?” From my journal, June 11, 2009:

One part of the museum dealt with genocides that have happened throughout the 20th century … and for every single one, the international community did nothing. There were always individuals who helped, who loved their neighbors, but never the international organizations. The UN? They removed troops from Rwanda. Not that troops would have really implemented peace. …

Why does the world not care? Why do we let it happen? Why have we NEVER DECLARED A GENOCIDE until it’s already passed? Have we so little concern for our brothers? How can we be so selfish? If it’s not happening to us, we look away and ignore countries, ethnicities, religions that are cut with wounds so deep they may never heal.

I shrink from ever advocating violence. But everything within me retches at the thought of allowing a massacre. During the killing days in Rwanda, so many world figures knew the situation, yet so few acted. The majority created loopholes to jump through and excuse themselves from being responsible.

So what can a nation do against angry autocrats who won’t lay down their arms? Is violence the only answer? Are air strikes justified if they prevent a massacre of the innocent? The conscience of nations is still plagued by the lakes of blood spilled in Rwanda. But is the only retaliation to spill more? I can’t believe it is. But I don’t have an answer.

I am the Keeper of Much Useless Information

That is, useless to many other people. I find my stockpile of knowledge quite useful for myself, but there are two areas in which I seem to have just too much information. I will share these with you in case anyone besides myself can be benefited. Or, in the least, that these tidbits can reside other places than my cranium.

1. I have been window shopping used cars on Craigslist recently, so it is now fairly easy for me to look at a sedan’s tail lights and be able to tell you the car’s make, model, and generation.

2. I present for you the normal weekday schedule for KERA, 90.1 (Your source for NPR news and the BBC world service!). This comes from much attentive listening (and is all from memory, so pardon the misspellings).

5am – 9am: Morning edition
9am – 11am: The Diane Ream Show
11am: Fresh Air (with Terri Gross)
12pm – 2pm: Think (with Chris Boyd)
2pm: Tell Me More (with Michelle Norris)
3pm – 5pm: PRI’s The World
5pm: All Things Considered
6pm: Marketplace (with Kai Risdall)

Fridays: 12pm: A Way With Words, 1pm: Anything You Ever Wanted to Know, 8 or 9pm: Radiolab

Saturday mornings feature  Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, Saturday afternoons A Prairie Home Companion, and Sunday mornings CarTalk.

Phew. I love me some NPR.