Blessings

Rain is falling in Missoula today.


The autumn rains have come, washing away the last remnants of summer. The rain fell yesterday and all last night, soaking into my sleep and my dreams. The open window at the head of my bed let in the chilly damp air, and I layered the blankets in a warm cocoon and slept long and well.


After the brightness and sunshine of summer, this is a shock to the system. After the smoky, forest-fiery days of late summer, this is a welcome change. I am getting more ready for fall. The leaves aren't quite turning yet--there are a few light greens and yellows here or there, but deep summer green is still reigning for a few more days or hours.


I'm sitting in the warmth of one of the numerous Missoula coffee shops, surrounded by people studying or sipping their lattes or typing away at their laptops, as I am. Conversation fills the air, a warm, homey sound. I like the low lighting and the sound of the espresso machine and the dim grey daylight filtering through the windows.


School has started, and once again I've dropped a course to keep my sanity. I am taking only one course now, the Literature of Sustainability, and it will be a good class, I think, despite one or two rather pretentious peers who too much like the sound of their own voices. Insha'allah they will come down to earth relatively soon and start making comments with actual substance. The prof seems to be a kindred spirit, a judgment I'm making solely on account of the expressions that cross her face as the discussion circles round the room. She has a sense of humor, and cares about what she's teaching.


Work is also going well. I've asked for and received a raise--every little bit helps--and I'm shifting from being a clueless intern to becoming a more significant part of our small office. Office work: sigh. I admit, however, that there is something satisfying about keeping things in order and running smoothly. I find that I am also, in the course of working on various projects (updating our cruise listings database, writing up a new tour for Costa Rica, etc.), learning a little bit about other parts of the world, and a lot more about our company. Being able to answer people's questions is extremely satisfying. I also get to talk to some interesting people--a USA Today reporter going to the Galapagos, the private physician of a British lord (!), a woman in the Marines serving in Iraq--and, while talking on the phone is not as nice as interacting with people face to face, it helps me feel a little more connected.




I will admit that life has been difficult lately. I am trying to see the blessings in my life--and they are there, very much so--but so often the sad bits overwhelm the blessings. If I were to list the blessings and sadnesses in my life, the list of blessings would be so much longer, and yet the sadnesses somehow manage to seep through, infiltrating the core of every blessing, making it nearly impossible for this weak amalgamation of body and mind and heart and spirit to feel hopeful or content for more than a few moments at a time.


It is the human plight, I know. If someone as godly and wise and patient and insightful as Henri Nouwen could go through a period of time in which he could not feel the presence of God, then what hope do I have to wholly avoid such an experience? Yet God is very much present. I do not know where he is, and I do not know how he works, and I do not know how he communicates with us--but I know that he is present, and that is a comfort.


A few blessings (in no particular order):


*birthday cards in the mail
*candles . . . care packages . . . love enclosed in bubble wrap
*rain
*parents who believe in love and prayer
*good art
*a quiet, candle-lit Vespers service last week
*friends who are doing well and settling into their skins
*a possible weekend trip to Las Vegas! . . . at least it'll make a good story . . .
*hot homemade soup
*hot baths on cold and rainy days
*wonderful people to work with
*tea
*fuzzy socks
*Old Post nachos
*the fact that forgiveness and peace and reconciliation exist in this world, and that there are stories of such goodness coming out on top even in the darkest of circumstances
*Bethie coming to visit me next week!
*a certain Baltimore babe and the exciting things happening in her life . . .
*my awesome roomie
*being on Jen's family email list :)
*artistic friends who create hilarious cartoons based on real events
*good books
*Robin McKinley's uncanny and enviable ability to create fantastic and wholly believable Other Worlds
*feeling the presence of God even when I want to accuse him of not paying attention
*the fact that I'm not actually in control of my life (have you ever noticed that the more one tries to control things, the worse off things become? I think I just need to stop thinking I know what I want)
*friends who know an appalling number of things about my life and somehow still manage to love me anyway . . . I was thinking about this the other day: we don't love people so much for their generic good qualities as for their quirks, right? I love you because you are, all of you, a little wacky, a little strange, and you break the bounds of boring normalcy, refusing to fit into some predictable mold, refusing to think you have to do so . . . I love you for your rebellions!




Hmm. I'm STILL not getting homework done. MUST GET INTO HOMEWORK GROOVE. MUST. HOMEWORK GROOVE, OR DIE! Urgh. This anti-homework rebellion is going to get me in trouble if it persists for too much longer. One must choose one's rebellions, I suppose. There must be more appropriate things against which to rebel . . . any suggestions?

Pre-Birthday Jitters

Tomorrow is my birthday. My (gulp) 27th birthday. What's the consensus: Is this the official move from the Mid-Twenties to the Late Twenties, or can I still claim myself as Mid-Twenties gal?

I was looking at my hair today. I'm having a good hair day, which is nice since I'm partying tonight. My hair is brown, but has lots of golden highlights from the Montana sunshine. I like the color very much, I must say. But 27 is getting awfully close to 30, and 30 is getting awfully close to 40 (right?), and somewhere between 30 and 40 a woman can expect some gray hairs, right? When it comes down to it, I have a limited amount of time in which to enjoy non-gray hair. I don't think I'm quite ready for gray hair yet . . .

Don't worry, that's not the only thing I've been thinking about today. It's a smoky day today--lots of wildfires around the state, and the air is close and warm and hazy.


Yesterday Teresa and I wanted to take advantage of the warm weather to go for one last tubing outing of the summer. Unfortunately, the Blackfoot was FREEZING. We waded in, gasping, and by the time we got into water up to our knees we couldn't feel our feet. So instead of the two-mile trip we'd planned, we walked up about 100 yards, put our tubes in, and numbed our butts while we floated back down. BRRRR!!!! I suppose this means that summer is officially over, but what if I'm not quite ready for that?







However, there are some new beginnings right now, too. One of them is that Teresa just adopted a dog from the Humane Society! Her name is Sasha, and she's 83 pounds of sweet and mellow Keeshond-cross mutt. Today I took her down to the river, and discovered that she loves water. She waded right in, and took off after some ducks that were floating down the river on the far side. After several minutes of concentrated calling and whistling on my part, she came back. (The fact that the ducks were rapidly putting distance between may have had some small part in her return . . . ) She's quite the princess!

This past week was also the first week of school--yet another change I'm not ready for. I'm sensing that this will be a busy semester for me--two classes plus 30 hours of working. I'm more than a bit apprehensive, but I've given myself three-day weekends, so I'm hoping that will help. (However, throughout the course of this lovely FOUR-day weekend I have done only an hour's worth of homework, so obviously I'm going to have to work on things like efficiency and motivation. Plah.)


Life is good, though. I'm reading "Reaching Out" by Henri Nouwen, and finding that it has a lot of relevance at this point in my life. He talks about the distinction between 'solitude' and 'loneliness,' and I am constantly amazed by his wisdom:

To live a spiritual life we must first find the courage to enter into the desert of our loneliness and to change it by gentle and persistent efforts into a garden of solitude. This requires not only courage but also a strong faith.

Unless our questions, problems and concerns are tested and matured in solitude, it is not realistic to expect answers that are really our own . . . . A lonely person has no inner time nor inner rest to wait and listen. He wants answers and wants them here and now. But in solitude we can pay attention to our inner self. In solitude we can become present to ourselves. [In solitude] we also can become present to others by reaching out to them, not greedy for attention and affection but offering our own selves to help build a community of love. Solitude does not pull us away from our fellow human beings but instead makes real fellowship possible.

I love the paradox. I love also the challenge in Nouwen's words. Lately I have felt God showing me a vision of the kind of person I can be. I don't know exactly what kind of journey it will be; I don't know exactly what path I need to take. But the simple fact that there is a path, that God does have changes planned for me, is enough. I am girding my loins and gathering my oft-faltering courage, and am taking steps, tiny steps, and am mostly moving in the right direction. This is a good thing to do now, at the beginning of my 28th year.

Roller Coasters . . .

School starts next week. I am not at all ready for it. These last few weeks of summer break have flown by far too quickly--I have had no time to wind down, to prepare myself for the imminent beginning of the school year. And there are simply too many frustrating and confusing things going on in my life right now, and I feel as though I have no time to sort through them properly.

Last year at this time I was so happy, for the first time in a long time. I was so excited to be starting grad school, so thrilled to be meeting interesting, thoughtful people, so fully content with my life. I was coruscatingly joyful, one year ago.

I would wish to be in that place again. Why is it that most of the time we can't be that happy? I love the feeling that my horizons are opening up, stretching out, out, out, so that I can look up into an infinity of blue sky and know that anything is possible, and that all the possibilities are gorgeous beyond my wildest imaginings.














But most of the time I don't feel that way. Most of the time I feel a quieter type of contentment, a quiet happiness that I get to wake up in Missoula, Montana, every morning, a quiet enjoyment of the mountains, the clear air, the rivers, my friends, my apartment, my place here. And some of the time I am sucked down into darkness, in which there are no horizons, no possibilities, no joy, and my life seems frightening, its circumstances beyond my control.

Are those moments of transcendent joy worth the clinging darkness?

Or is it better to simply live calmly, evenly, with no violent upheavals of emotion?

I have to believe that those moments of joy are worth the darkness.



























They are.

summer song

New fav song for the summer: Set the Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol, from their new album Eyes Open. Enjoy!

Family Fun

So, for those who are far away, further pictures of the activities of Al, Dad and Mom.

Here's me at McDonald Lake, prior to some kick-ass rock skipping.














Mom and Dad taking in the view along the Going-to-the-Sun Road.















A trip to Glacier simply wouldn't be right without snowballs in July! Hee hee.















Now, back near Missoula, here's Dad and Mom and I at the top of the ski lift at the Snowbowl ski resort.















We went with Jacob and his mom to see the gorgeous view! We could see all of Missoula and far down the Bitterroot Valley. Glorious.

Current Activities

Because I always listen to my littul sisturr . . . a post of my current activities.

Mom and Dad are visiting this week (aah!!! A WEEK!), and we are having fun. What have we done already? We have visited the PEAS farm (the pigs are huge! there are 20 new chickens! the garlic has been harvested! the entire farm is LUSH!); had fish tacos (me and Mom), fish 'n chips (Dad), and good Montana beer at the Old Post; eaten sushi, calamari, and seaweed salad (go Mom and Dad! Such good sports.); experienced the divinity that is Big Dipper ice cream; hiked the M (only stopping at every other switchback for Mom to catch her breath); viewed the 204-foot-high Kerr dam at the end of Flathead Lake; and we are currently up at the Kuntz farm enjoying a sublimely beautiful evening. Mom and Dad are sitting out on the deck, reading, with the lake stretching blue beyond, and the sun easing its way behind the western mountains. Tomorrow we're heading to Glacier after breakfasting at the Echo Lake Cafe, which is supposed to have the best breakfast in western Montana. I'll let you know!

So, for all you poor people who aren't here, some pictures for your enjoyment. :)





Dad and Mom from the top of the M! They made it! Woohoo!



Me being triumphant, oh Great Hiker Al.



Yay for technology! Digital camera pics, a cool photo editing program, and voila! A gorgeous panorama shot of the Missoula valley from the M. It was the most beautiful day I've seen in quite a while, refreshingly cool and breezy.

Fear Not

"Do not fear, only believe."

Though the gospel reading was about Jairus's daughter and the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years, those five words were the ones that jumped out at me. Jesus said them to Jairus after they had been told that his daughter was dead.

I feel as though half the time I'm going through life feeling afraid, and the other half I'm doubting--my faith, my beliefs, my life, God. But listen, listen--

"Do not fear, only believe."

Perhaps this not fearing, this believing, precludes thought? Or perhaps Jesus is saying,

I know you've thought, and I know that your thoughts are torturing you.

Wait.
Breathe.

And know that you need not fear. Know that you need only believe.

Wait.
Listen.

Deep down, in your very core, you know what you believe. In love, believe it, and go forth fearless.

At least, that's what I heard whispered in my soul this Sunday.

Words of Wisdom

I seem to be so cheerful, always, on my blog.

Not that this is a bad thing, necessarily, but it makes me wonder if I'm trying to cover up the less-than-cheerful things in my life.

Words of wisdom from Paulo Coelho's Warrior of the Light:

When the master sees that the Warrior is depressed, he says:

"You are not what you seem to be in these moments of sadness. You are better than that.

"By now, millions of people will have given up. They don't get angry, they don't weep, they don't do anything; they merely wait for time to pass. They have lost the ability to react.

"You, however, are sad. That proves that your soul is still alive."


I take heart in this thought: I am sad, some days, and feel that there is too much darkness. But my soul is still very much alive.

Lately I have been feeling that the life I live is too selfish. I got an email update from a girl I went on MESP with, an amazing girl who has done and is doing so many things I envy--visiting Palestine, being deeply involved with and connected to her church, studying Arabic, working with a non-profit that helps children around the world--and I realize that it is not HER I resent, not really. Rather, it is my inaction, my selfishness, that I hate. Perhaps I do not need to do anything phenomenal, exotic, huge. But I want to start making changes on an incremental level, changes that move me from selfishness to selflessness, from living a life centered on only myself to a life that is aware of those around me.

It is a slow process, but it is one I have begun simply by recognizing that I need to begin it.


I have also been thinking about prayer lately, and God. I have told several of my friends that I will pray for them, which means I need to do it. I told them I would pray, knowing that it has been too long since I've prayed with any regularity, told them I would pray because I love them and am hoping that that love will encourage me to keep my promise.

More words from Paulo Coelho:

There are two types of prayer.

In the first type, the person asks for certain things to happen and attempts to tell God what he should do. This does not allow the Creator either time or space in which to act. God--who knows perfectly well what is best for each of us--will continue to do as he sees fit. And the person praying is left with the impression that this prayer went unanswered.

In the second type, the person may not understand the Almighty's intentions, bu he allows his life to develop according to his Creator's plans. He asks to be spared suffering, he asks for joy in the Good Fight, but he never forgets to add: "Thy will be done."

This is how the Warrior of the Light chooses to pray.


I wish it were easier. But any time I've tried to tell God what to do or who to be, I have been humbled. Which, I suppose, is good.

My heart has been sad lately. When my heart is sad, I find I want to tell God what to do, want to pray for certain things to happen. I feel as though I've been better at letting go this past year--letting go of me, of what I want, of what I think should happen, of my determination to have things my way--but I am still far from perfection in that realm.

How do I shift from asking God that certain things happen, to allowing my life to develop according to his plans?

I must remember to add "Thy will be done."

So I pray: Bring joy to those I love. Bring peace to the world, and to every heart within it. Make me a channel of your peace. Let me truly love those around me. Keep me from suffering. May I be joyful in each day.

Thy will be done.


It is very hard to say that.
It is very hard to say that and mean it.

I wish I could adopt a kitty . . .

Adorable Animals of the Missoula Humane Society
For Your Viewing Pleasure

Is this not an incredibly adorable puppy? He and his siblings are up for adoption at the Missoula Humane Society. I will not be getting one (sniff), but dang it, he's cute!

Just thought I'd spread the cuteness around. I don't (think I) generally succumb to cuteness, but I simply couldn't resist.

All right, while I'm posting pictures from the Humane Society, here's the cat Jacob got a couple of weeks ago (whose name has gone from Wylie to Whitman to Monkey to Bug Aurelius, and it had better remain at the latter since Bug is now the proud owner of an engraved name tag!).















And last but not least, here's Penelope, the cat I am still tempted to adopt (if I actually had the $250 pet deposit I'd need to give to my landlord, not to mention the $60 it costs to adopt, and all the expenses of litter and cat food, etc.). Someday . . .

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY . . .

I moved to Missoula! I can't believe I've been here for a year. I haven't been in one place for a year since I lived in Chicago. Happy anniversary to me! I had my first day of work at Adventure Life, which consisted of researching the geography and history and culture of Vietnam and starting to write up mini-articles on those topics, and mailing about 25 catalogs to random people. It's a good working environment--a small office, with the people very friendly and welcoming. I think I'm going to enjoy the work, though it's been awhile since I've worked in an office. I need to brush up on some long-unused skills. Like typing on a desktop system rather than a laptop, for instance!

Isn't it about time for me to post pictures again? Here's me and Teresa looking gorgeous (of course!), at our friend Erin's graduation party. It was a pretty wild affair--hors d'ouvres, live music, a professional drag queen performance . . .




The second picture portrays Al's Transformation From Iowa Girl To Missoula Girl. Note quintessential Missoula accessories: dog, Nalgene, bike, dorky smile, gaucho pants, olive oil, Western Family snack crackers (well, that's more a Poor Graduate Student accessory than a Missoula Girl accessory, but oh, well), and, last but not least, Chacos! Missing: devastatingly attractive curly-haired guitar-playing boy. Just squint and use your imagination. :)

I am 26, going on 27 . . .

Three months from today is my 27th birthday. I've become quite accustomed to being 26, and it has never, these past months, seemed old. So how is it that I shudder to think of turning 27? How can it seem so much older than 26? Although 27 is a nice, balanced number. Two plus seven is nine, which is one of my favorite numbers, and 27 is also divisible by nine. Besides, I like odd numbers. Well, perhaps turning 27 won't be so bad, after all. And I have three months to adjust myself to the idea.

It's a gorgeous day over here. I have done nothing terribly productive today (besides sweep my kitchen floor, put away the dishes, and put away my winter coats), but hey, it's summer vacation, right? My internship at Adventure Life begins tomorrow--exciting! So I should enjoy this day of not working. It's one of those gold and green and blue days, and the air is fresh and cool and spring-like, thanks to several days of rain. I suppose it will get hot and miserable soon enough.

Tricia and Benjamin visited me last week, and it was lovely to have them here. Unfortunately, I was sick--damn tonsils!--and not up to my usual energetic self, which was frustrating. I must say, though, Tricia and Benjamin took very good care of me, and it was very nice to have good friends around who cooked me yummy meals and did the dishes and made me drink lots of water. We camped out by Rock Creek one night, and had to fight the mule deer for our campsite; we had ice cream from the Big Dipper, and hit up the Book Exchange a few times, and ate nachos as the Old Post, and visited the Humane Society. I have decided that I am a catalyst to people adopting pets. Last summer, Tricia and Benjamin adopted Minuet from the Missoula Humane Society when we went together; this time around, it was Jacob who adopted a cat, a one-year-old black and white male whom he named Monkey. Over the past couple of years I find myself becoming more and more of a cat person. They have always seemed such unpredictable creatures (compared to dogs, that is), but I am coming to understand them better. There was the sweetest tortoiseshell cat there, and I am sorely tempted to go back to the Humane Society with Teresa and see what she thinks about Penelope . . .

All right, I think this is enough narcissism for the day. I just found out that Jen and Joe are coming out this way over the 4th of July! The three of us have a bit of a 4th of July tradition, though it's been put aside the past couple of years. (Uh oh, Joe, you're going to have an out-of-state license again! Do you think we can find another grocery cashier who will suspect you of being a raving drunk?) I love having visitors! And Amy Wojcik is coming out in about two weeks, and Mom and Dad are visiting in July . . . woohoo! It is good to have such things to look forward to.

And now I may call my friend Lindsay and see if she's up for a bit of a walk in this gorgeous Montana weather. I'm sitting writing this out on my balcony, with the sunlight dappling the leaves, and the breeze washing over my skin and tinkling my wind chimes. It is perfectly loverly.

a glorious evening

A storm blew up tonight, before sunset. I was sitting in El Cazador, eating a late supper, and suddenly the trees outside were lashing back and forth in the wind, and rain came down in the streets, hard and quick, and deep golden sunlight flashed beneath the clouds and lit up the green leaves and the slopes of Mt. Sentinel and Mt. Jumbo, while grey-blue clouds hovered above Missoula. By the time I left, the rain had let up to a misting drizzle, and the sun was resting right on the horizon.

As Jacob and I walked out, a perfect, gorgeous rainbow arced in a half circle above Mt. Sentinel, the colors glowing against the dark sky behind. One end of the rainbow rested in Rattlesnake Canyon, the other at the university. A faint second rainbow stretched above the first. The sunlight streamed past while the raindrops wet my skin, and a cool fresh breeze blew off the rushing wildness of the snowmelt-flooded Clark Fork River.

Oh glorious evening!

Oh, and did I mention that I'm finished with my first year of grad school?? Ilhamdulillah . . . and the summer now stretches out before me. I could canvass this summer if I wanted, and I think I might just do it--it would be fun to canvass in Missoula (and Helena and Bozeman and Billings and Kalispell and Whitefish), and I'd be walking a lot and thus be getting trim and fit, and the campaign is on global warming . . . it's nice to have the option, at any rate. Hmm.

And now, by gum, I'm going to go to bed because I am BEAT. It's been hot lately, and I don't like sleeping in the heat, but tonight is nice and cool, post-thunderstorm cool. Luffly.

Happy summer to all, and to all a good night!
(Three cheers for cheesiness!)

just a few more days

I am so close to being finished!

Here it is, Monday night, and I've just finished making intelligent and insightful comments on two long essays written by fellow students in my writing class. I have to comment on Teresa's essay yet before tomorrow night. Tomorrow I will be grading portfolios for most of the day, with a break around 1 o'clock for a last brief meeting with my Greening of Religion class. Tomorrow evening is my last writing class--we're having a potluck followed by workshopping. On Wednesday I'm handing back most of my students' portfolios, with a few to be handed back on Thursday morning . . . and then . . . I'm . . . done!! Ilhamdulillah!

Now to find a summer job. I have a couple of very part-time jobs already, but I'm going to need to earn at least a little more this summer. Wish me luck, these next few days and weeks, that I can find something interesting and challenging (but not too challenging) for these summer months.

On Saturday night Jacob and I drove up to his family's farm near Bigfork. It's on the east side of Flathead Lake, a few acres of land covered with 400 cherry trees, all of which are in bloom right now. The room I slept in has a window which overlooks the lake, and it was a lovely way to wake up, Sunday morning, to the sound of rain falling on the roof and mist creeping over the expanse of the lake. The smell of frying bacon wasn't too terrible of a wake-up call, either. Mmm.

It was so good to feel part of a family again. I love my friends in Missoula, but most of them are my age, or are at least at a similar place in life. I'm not close to many middle-aged or older couples--I have found no surrogate parents or grandparents here, and I miss that intergenerational interaction. So spending the day with Jacob and his parents and sister was wonderful. They welcomed me enthusiastically, adopting me with no questions asked. The warmth of their family combined with the beauty of the farm almost brought me to tears--I have missed light-hearted bantering and teasing, have missed my sister, my parents, have missed coming downstairs in the morning to a family breakfast, family prayer, family closeness.

Ilhamdulillah.

The trees are leafing out along my street, and shade falls beneath them during the day and in the twilit spring evenings. It has been a wet spring, and the grass is lush and green, and the smell of cut grass has begun wafting through the air on warm afternoons. The sun scatters light across the valley, and the mountains glow green and gold during the day, are tinted pink and gold as the sun sets, and loom dark against the sky as evening shifts to night.

So, who's going to come visit me this summer?

A True Montanan

A True Montanan

This morning I woke up just after six to go fly-fishing.

That's right, I went fly-fishing this morning for the first time in my life.

I am on my way to becoming a true Montanan.

!!!

Jacob invited me to go with him this morning, and how could I refuse an exquisitely beautiful morning standing on the bank of the Blackfoot River? He was very patient in teaching casting to a person who hasn't held a fishing rod in 15 years, and who has never done anything like casting a fly-fishing line. The long, narrow pole felt very awkward in my hands, and the mosquito-like fly kept getting caught in the napweed behind me. But after an hour or so, my hands chilled in the early morning air and beads of ice forming on the rod, I started to get the hang of it. Swish and swish and swish, back and forth, arm moving in a swinging rhythm, don't let the pole flick downward, try to toss the line straight out, don't let it bunch up as the fly hits the water . . .

I am beginning to understand the allure of fly-fishing, and why it draws so many people in. I think I need to read David James Duncan's The River Why again, and watch A River Runs Through It, too. For those of you who don't know, A River Runs Through It takes place in Missoula, along the Blackfoot River. And now I have tasted the sweetness of standing in the shadow of the mountains, fly rod in hand, the line spinning out above me and flicking out over a river running swift with snowmelt.

What's homework again?

Off the Radar . . .

Today's a gorgeous day. Breezy and cool, but the sky is cloudless and the sun is beaming down and green baby leaves are fuzzing the edges of all the trees. Spring!

My Earth Day service went really well today. Peter preached an energetic, mind-stretching sermon; I read the scriptures without stumbling over the words; and the singing was lovely. Plus, now people know who I am. :) There were even yummy desserts afterward, of which I partook liberally.

I am swinging into the last three weeks of school. As such, I'm going to be extremely busy--just thinking about the mountain of projects and papers and grading to hack through has me quivering in my Chacos. So I'm posting this as a warning that I'm going to drop off the radar until, say, May 11th. If you don't hear from me, that's why. If I don't answer your calls, that's why. If I don't post until then, that's why. I'm sure I will spend some time procrastinating, in the form of phone conversations or emails, but don't count on it.

I love you all, and I look forward to some good, long, lazy conversations when I come up for air in three weeks.

Many blessings!

Happy Earth Day, everyone!

Go out and appreciate creation!
Bike or walk instead of drive.
Eat some local food.
Plant a tree!
Hug a tree!
Thank people who give you crap for being a "hippie, liberal granola"! (Yes, it happens even here in Missoula.)
Calculate your ecological footprint!
Minimize your ecological footprint today!
Read Psalm 104 or 148.

Wish me luck as I attempt to do some marathon grading and bust through the 20 remaining argument essays this afternoon . . .

I'm happy because I found out yesterday that I got a scholarship. It's not too much, but every little bit helps. I also found out that I'm one of the substitute assistant market masters for the Farmers Market this summer. I get to fill in for the assistant market masters if they're gone, or I get to help out when the Market gets busier in July and August. Now for a job to keep me occupied during the week . . . wish me luck in that department, too.

Onward and upward!

ENERGY!

I just had a fantastic class! Some days I feel that I'm scarcely teaching, that I ought to be doing more, somehow, but today I felt such good energy spilling into the classroom. I began by reading some Wendell Berry poetry (thank you, Jacob, for illuminating me with the knowledge of more Mad Farmer poems!)--"The Mad Farmer's Love Song" & "The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer"--perhaps it's show-offy of me, but I really enjoy reading aloud to my students. I have to have some fun as a teacher, after all. And they seem to enjoy it.

Then we talked about revision modes and methods, and one of my students asked me to define "show not tell," which is rather difficult to do--really, it is a skill that must be practiced, must be shown, not told, not defined. But I did my best, and my students seemed to be following what I was saying or trying to say. At the end of class, one of my students asked, "So what showing is, is presenting the details to the readers and letting them come up with their own conclusion?" And I looked at him and thought, Wow, you just said in one sentence what I've been trying to say for the past 20 minutes. Aloud I said: "Yes, Gary, that's it exactly. Don't tell us what to think--give us the evidence and let us make our own conclusions." I looked around at my students, and I could see by their expressions that they got it, that they understood, and it was beautiful because it was one of the students who said so clearly what I was getting at--and once he'd said it, there was nothing more for me to say, so I ended the class.

Is this why it's so wonderful to be a teacher--simply being able to watch your students come to the point of understanding new ideas, to see the knowledge illuminating their faces? To be the catalyst to their learning?

O beautiful day.

Hump Day

Yes, it is Wednesday again, and I am glad for it. My Mondays and Tuesdays always seem so weighed down, but my class schedule lightens in the latter half of the week. This past weekend I was also working hard on an essay I should have been working hard on all semester, and I turned in the first draft last night. It is not brilliant by any means, but I like it. Writing it, I felt for the first time in a long time that I was creating something that has a purpose, that is going somewhere. This essay is taking on a life of its own, and I'm excited to see where it goes.

Tonight I am going out for dollar sushi and then to a concert-- David Boone and Tom Catmull--with my friend Jacob. This will be the third time in my life that I've had sushi, the fourth time I've heard David Boone, and the fifth time I've heard Tom Catmull. It should be a good evening--have I mentioned how much I love the Missoula music scene?

Last night I went to the Old Post and had Moose Drool and nachos for the first time in three weeks. Three weeks without Old Post nachos--well, it's not something that should ever happen again. There is an EVST joke about how quickly Teresa and I can put away a plate of nachos . . . we are pretty talented when it comes to devouring good food. Mmm, nachos.

I think I will post here the ending of my essay. I'm not sure that I'll keep it as the ending (it depends on how the essay itself develops and changes), but I like it. It's been raining every day this week, and the grass is turning green and the buds are appearing on the trees . . . spring is coming!

My essay is on communion, and Iowa, and manna from heaven . . . and unknown other topics, to be discovered in the next few weeks. Enjoy.

It is raining today, a quiet, washing spring rain. I heard it in those first moments of consciousness early this morning, heard it dripping on the roof, heard the water-muffled sounds of traffic outside my window, saw the gray dim light spilling into my bedroom. I walked out into the day, into one of the first rains of spring, and felt the cold drops on my cheeks and nose and hair. The grass will turn green now, and other flowers will pop up to join the fallen bits of crocus color that lie scattered on my neighbors’ lawns. And perhaps, along with the rain, sweet white flakes will come drifting down from heaven, falling down to rest on the glistening grass, and I will pick them up, filling my hands with what I need for the day and no more. My neighbors, too, will be out on their lawns, marveling at this gift from the sky. We will kneel to scoop it up; we will smile at one another across the street and over the fence. We will bring our brimming hands to our mouths, and the flakes will melt on our tongues, will be washed down with raindrops.

Spring Break Procrastination

My break is here, and I have loads of work to do, but not much is getting done. Why is motivation lacking when I need it the most? Why must my personal life get complicated when I need to focus on schoolwork?

I have been thinking about choices lately. I make so many choices daily--most of them little ones, I guess--and I am used to taking responsibility for my choices. For instance, do I mark research essays or go out to eat with friends? If I go out to eat, then the work load piles up for later--but I know that it is my choice, my doing, and I will live with the consequences. I've made some choices lately that I'm not sure about--that is, I'm not sure what the results will be. Funny how some things seem so lovely at the time and in retrospect I wonder what on earth I was thinking. And yet the choice has been made and I must live with the result, and if I am hurt in the process it is because of the decision that I made.

Taking responsibility for one's actions is a little scary sometimes.

I have also been getting periodic updates from a woman in my church in Sioux Center. She is pregnant, and her baby has been diagnosed with spinal bifuda (I think that's right . . . ), so she is undergoing special treatments in Nashville. She sends out an email update once or twice a week, and, despite the uncertainty and scariness of her situation, her faith in God is unwavering. She fully trusts that He is in control and is taking care of her and her baby and her family. Her faith humbles me and gives me hope at the same time. And I look at my life here, and the choices I am making, and I wish I had her faith and certainty. I wish, too, that I had as many people praying for me as she does--and then I think of all of you, all my friends wherever you may be, and I know that you are praying for me, as I am praying for you. That, too, is both humbling and hopeful.

I am experiencing so many new things here in Montana. The ways people think are so different--I am coming across myriad new ideas and worldviews. I am glad for this, but at the same time I am challenged. Challenged to consider these new perspectives; challenged to test them against long-held beliefs; challenged to fit new and old together in a way that makes sense; challenged to be faithful while simultaneously trying to define just what 'faithful' means. Challenged. I am glad for the challenges, but at times (such as now) I want to step back from them all and simply rest.

Today I called my friend Lindsay here in town, and we had tea and then took a walk in Rattlesnake Canyon with her two sons. Seth is only three months old, so I carried him in a baby carrier against my chest, and he slept the whole time, his few pounds no burden, his warmth comfortable in the coolness of the afternoon. Lindsay carried Corin in a child backpack, and we walked amongst the Ponderosa pines, inhaled the fragrance of the air, heard the water of the creek splash against the rocks, and talked; for those few hours I was able to step back and rest from the challenges and confusions of my life and simply enjoy the beauty of Montana.

The sun is setting now, and dusk is falling over the valley. It is a beautiful day, a beautiful evening. And my homework is calling to me, threatening to crash down upon me if I don't start working on the pile soon. So enough procrastination for now . . .

Happy Spring!

This morning was windy, but it was a blustery March wind, so, despite the cold, the smell of spring was in the air, blowing down the mountains and along the Clark Fork River. I can't wait until the trees start leafing out and the grass turns green. Crocuses are popping up in people's yards, and all the seeds in the greenhouse out at the PEAS farm are germinating, so spring is on its way. Bit by bit.

Spring break is coming up--it starts this Friday for me. I was hoping to be able to take off and do something wild and crazy away from Missoula, but then I looked at my work load and realized I can't afford the time. I do hope to get out of town for a couple of days, though. Even a day trip to the hot springs or to Glacier would be refreshing.

Last week I caught a nasty cold . . . my throat hurt so badly, and when I tried to swallow it was as if I had a golf ball in my throat. UGH. I thought perhaps I had strep throat, but I went to the doctor and she told me it was just a virus. But what a nasty fiend of a virus it was! I'm finally feeling better--I've been drinking lots of tea, getting nine hours of sleep a night, eating my vegetables, and slacking on my homework. Anything to get well again!

We are now getting more daytime than nighttime--I love having more than 12 hours of sunlight! I took a walk tonight at 7, and it wasn't even dark yet, though twilight fell as I headed along the riverwalk. I love the way the streetlights shine yellow against the sky, how they reflect golden on the dark smoothness of the river.

I can't wait until summer. Hot hot sunny days, rafting on the icy waters of the Blackfoot, sunlight streaming over the mountains, band playing in Caras park on Thursday nights, the Farmer's Market every Saturday, no homework . . . oh, glorious Montana summer!

In the meantime, however, I have work to do. And much as I'd like to just sit around and read non-school books for the rest of the evening, I really ought to mark some research papers . . .

Love to all!

When writing class gets boring . . .

we the writers get creative. Below you will find a conglomerate poem, written by Teresa, Christa, and myself (a.k.a. "Terry Christalson"). It's a bit of a spoof on the Camas submissions--Camas is the literary journal put out by the EVST department, the editorial board of which we are all members. Enjoy!

The Nature of the West: A (really, really) Profoundly Meaningful Poem

O Camas!
The quiet waiting-ness of your
sweet root in rich Western soil
The quivering shoot that culminates
in your crowning glory, sapphire flower
You put forth your Rooty sustenance
to keep flesh rosy on our bodies
A gentle whitetail doe,
quick, wild, free!
Steps among your shiny
profusion of azure blooms
You caress her legs, moving softly
As the prairie wind strokes your face
Breath soft with prairie spring
A Hawk soars, floating overhead
through blue sky that echoes your glory
He soars, then dives, and
Death blooms at your stems.
Your cool blue beauty is undisturbed.
The Death-Hawk
carries his prey over the
mountains with a cry
of Triumph.
The wind whispers through your leaves:
sssshhhhsssshhhh!
A tacit understanding
to hide the bloody kill
your flowers shield
one of your many silent secrets.
As summer glides, slow, into fall,
the whisper turns to the
rattle & rustle
of drying leaves
Blue bleaches into golden autumn
Then, the pure white shroud
of the Winter’s snow
is thrown upon the land.
Beneath it, your roots wait,
and with them, their Secrets.
Swelling through the long cold season
until the warm Spring’s wind
calls you forth
bursting with new life
to feed our rosy flesh again.
You are the Nature of the West!
O Camas!

The End.

up at the PEAS farm

Today I began my internship out at the PEAS farm. It is in a lovely spot up in the Rattlesnake Valley, a little ways out of town and surrounded by mountains. The rain was coming down gently when I got up, and its falling on the earth brought forth the richest, most springlike smell--of growth and soil and freshness. As I drove through town, the sun came out and a rainbow arched across the western sky and my mind was filled with hopeful thoughts, because what other thoughts have any right being in your mind when there's a rainbow in the sky?

We mixed potting soil today, too: 4 parts compost, 1 part sand, 4 parts peat, 3 parts vermiculite, and a tiny little bit of organic fertilizer. We sifted it all into a big pile on the floor, and then six of us walked around the pile with shovels, mixing and turning the ingredients together to create a light, rich soil. Then we filled up the planter boxes with our concoction and planted onions, thousands of them. I'm delighted to think of how they'll grow and grow and then, later this summer, I'll be able to eat them. Yum!

So it was a happy day. We worked in the greenhouse with the rain drumming on the roof, and we were all cozy and working hard inside. I am going to enjoy these hours spend on the farm, these hours of working and having something to show for it by the end--I've forgotten how satisfying manual labor is, especially when I'm laboring with other like-minded people.

Today is Tuesday, which means I have my writing class tonight, and nachos and Moose Drool at the Old Post afteward! Now there's a happy hour.

Things I'm Thankful for (in no particular order):

1. chocolate
2. icy cold weather!
3. clear skies and a gorgeous sunrise this morning
4. Old Post nachos (mmm)
5. Poe, very possibly the sweetest dog in the world
6. new pens
7. randomly running into people I know in little Missoula coffee shops
8. being done with filing taxes and filling out the FAFSA
9. young adult literature
10. students who ask questions
11. fuzzy blankets
12. sunshine coming in the windows and warming up the EVST lounge
13. granola from the Good Food Store
14. pictures of my grandparents when they were young
15. giving out silly Valentines
16. reading I Corinthians 13 this morning
17. talking to friends I haven't heard from in awhile
18. goofy pictures from various costume parties
19. the view of mountains out my window
20. the satisfaction of baking yummy things
21. getting to attend lectures by famous authors such as Linda Hogan
22. warm bus rides on cold days
23. a kick-ass roommate who makes scrumptious hummus and goddess dressing, among other things
24. the prospect of a Laura Ingalls Wilder-site-visiting vacation next summer
25. Lady Grey tea
26. that my sister came to visit me!

A bit of procrastination . . .

Not too many exciting things are happening at the moment, but requests have been made for me to update my blog. So here goes.

I decided this weekend that I'm going to drop the extra class I added. Saving a couple thousand dollars, frugal and economic though it would be, is not worth sanity, rest, and peace of mind. Or so I'm telling myself. After making that decision, though, I felt as though a weight had lifted: a good sign.

I'm enjoying my teaching so much this semester! I feel as though I know so much more. I don't, not really, but at least I have a semester's worth of experience behind me. I find I am able to field my students' questions much more coherently now. I had a good class today; nothing deeply profound occurred, but I felt as though my students were taking in what I was saying, and I was encouraged.

My sister is coming this week! She flies in late Wednesday night, and I'm overjoyed that she's coming. Hee hee. It will be so wonderful to show her around Missoula and UM, and have her meet all of my people here . . . oh joy. What a lovely event to look forward to!

I need to do some writing tonight. And then I need to print it out and run it over to school. You'd think that I could easily get the work done on time for a once-a-week class, but alas. I got most of my other work done in the meantime, though! And the apartment's looking much cleaner, and I'm suddenly inspired to do some baking tonight . . . in preparation for Andrea's visit, of course. Um. Strangely enough, I'm finding it far easier to write about subjects that have nothing to do with my essay. I am running into a mountainous mental block when I try to work on this essay, and I think I've figured it out: I want it to be perfect, and what's coming out of my mind and onto the screen is not perfect, and therefore I'm not getting anything written. I talk myself blue in the face telling my students that they need to give themselves the freedom to "write badly and silence their internal critics," but I can't give that same freedom to myself. Plah. Wish me luck.

This past weekend held a Big Labowsky party--imagine 40 grad students crammed into a medium-size living room, dressed as Big Labowsky characters, drinking White Russians, and watching the movie projected onto the wall. Just imagine. Afterwards, we all went out bowling (I bowled an 81! Woohoo! Or was it an 86?), and then Teresa and Jeff and Catherine and I went out to Oxford's Cafe for burgers at midnight, and Catherine and I played Keno--we put in 25 cents and got back 55 cents, so we more than doubled our bet! And people say they lose money gambling . . . I just don't understand it. Although I have this sneaking suspicion that if we'd gambled $250, we wouldn't have won $550, but who knows?

a few silly pictures

Jen and Joe and I also played cards . . . with their new plastic transparent deck. Who thinks of these things?

good friends

And a few more pics, so everyone I saw can feel loved and important and famous. :)




While visiting Tricia and Benjamin, we got to spend an evening with Erin and Brittany Goheen, friends from our junior high years. The evening involved card playing, of course.



After returning from Toronto, I headed up to the Twin Cities to see more friends. Janelley took me to a bachelorette party she was throwing for a friend, and we all ended up getting adorned with various funky accessories . . .



A typical picture of me and Linds. :) Love ya, girl!



My friend Beth was home from Palestine for the holidays!

A New Semester

So apparently it's just been way too darned long since I last posted.

Today was the first day of spring semester 2006. I taught a brand-new group of students this morning, and learned all their names in the first class, which impressed them all greatly. Now if only I can remember the names on Wednesday . . .

I'm teaching in Janette Rankin Hall (home of the EVST department), so I don't even have to leave the building. And I have a high-ceilinged corner room with lots of windows, and it's nice and large and has a good aura, no doubt due to the many wonderful EVST classes that have been held within its walls. I'm excited to get to know new students--there's something so delightful about watching them open up and become three-dimensional characters.

I also signed up for another class today--I'm excited about the class (The Literature of Nature Writing), but a bit apprehensive about the work load of the semester. However, I know that I am capable of being diligent, efficient, and motivated, and if I can somehow be all of those things this semester perhaps I can avoid the stress of last year. We shall see!

I'm going to post a few pics from Christmas break. I had a wonderful time, and saw a lot of you who read my blog--I did have a marvelous, friend-and-family-filled few weeks, and faithful Ishta took me from Missoula to Sioux Center to Grand Rapids to Toronto to Minneapolis and back again . . . so here are a few pictures for ya'll to enjoy.



I stopped in the Badlands on the drive home, right at sunset. Gorgeous!



Andrea and I embarking on our trip to Toronto, in a typical Iowa snowstorm.



Benjamin, Tricia, and I drinking tea and playing Euchre. Ah, vacation.

Finished . . . rested . . . home!

Finished . . . rested . . . home!

My first semester of grad school is finished! Woohoo, I am DONE! Final papers are written and turned in, portfolios are graded and final grades are entered, presentations are given and books are read, and I am now HOME in Iowa with my family. Oh, ilhamdulillah.

So life is good. I've gotten to see my adorable nephews, eat WAY too much yummy Christmas cooking, and sleep, sleep, sleep. That's the best part, actually.

Today I had coffee (well, hot chocolate) with my pastor here, and that was refreshing. He's a wise person, but beyond that he is simply kind and thoughtful, and he listens. So he listened to me today, gave me some good advice, and made me feel as though it's all going to be okay. :) As Lady Julian of Norwich said, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." After a wild and wonderful semester in Montana, I was glad for a quiet conversation in Iowa.

I'd forgotten how many people I know here. I went to Wal-Mart today (yes, Wal-Mart--honestly, it's almost the only place to shop here! At least, darn it, it's about the only place to get hair gel and contact solution--plah!) and ran into an old friend from high school who's just had her second child, and then I ran into an acquaintance from Dordt who knows some people that I know in Missoula, and then, of course, I still know half the people who work at Wal-Mart from MY days of working there . . . and then there's all the people I recognize as I walk down the street or through the mall--former profs, people from church, etc. It's good to be home; I've missed knowing every third person who passes by.

So I'm hoping to get some lesson planning done this break, as well as some writing, and some reading, too. I have about, oh, ten books that I've borrowed from various EVST friends that I'm going to try to read, starting with "Cadillac Desert" by Marc Reisner, a thus-far fascinating history of water in the American West. I'm starting with this one because I'm hoping it will help me to expand my water essay, which I'm excited to work on in the coming weeks.

Okay, I want comments from ya'll. :) So I'm going to give a prompt that I found on someone else's blog (and I think she found it somewhere else, too--let's pass it on!):

Make up a fake memory of us. That is, post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - but it has to be fake.

Hee!

Disco Fever!

Are we hot or what?!?

Heather, Catherine, Teresa, me, and Christa

Some Quality Reading

I just wanted to share a link to an excellent essay by David James Duncan that was in this year's July/August issue of Orion. I've chosen this piece as the focus of a response for my writing class, as DJD so clearly articulates many of the issues with which I've been wrestling for the past several years, issues which have bubbled up to the surface again in this first semester of grad school. Enjoy.

Insha'allah I will post again in the near future. But if I don't, know that it's because I'm frantically dog-paddling in a tsunami of end-of-the-semester research, papers, projects, readings, lesson plans, and gradings. WHOOSH, there I go! In three weeks I hope to be HOME, as in, Sioux Center, Iowa, a place I haven't seen since mid-June. But that's only if I somehow manage to survive the three weeks in the first place . . .


I must share a wonderful, quintessential Missoula moment:

Today I walked down to Bernice's Bakery to have a hot chocolate and cinnamon roll and do a little reading, and who should be there but my friend Jacob (from MESP) and his sister, and we sat and chatted for awhile, and then my friend Tim came in, so I introduced him to Jacob, since all of us know my friend Rachel (another MESPer), and it turned out that Jacob's sister knew Tim . . . Dutch bingo in Missoula! Ain't life grand. Then I walked home in the dark, invigoratingly cold evening, with snowflakes drifting down around me, glittering beneath the streetlights to create a shimmering fairy world. I love winter.

Halloween

And now, a picture from our Halloween party: me as a butterfly-fairy creature. Ethereal, aren't I? More to come . . .

Montana Gorgeousness

A few more pictures from way back over Labor Day weekend--just more Montana gorgeousness I had to share. In the top picture, Molly, me, and Christa. In the bottom picture, a view of Black Lake from above.

Time is but a river I go a fishin' in . . .

And boy is it flowing fast right now. Yeep. Can it really be November 18th? Three weeks left of classes, then one week of exams, of which I have none (woohoo!). And yet there's so much to do . . .

It's been a bit of a rough week. I had high hopes of getting a lot done, but due to some, um, emotional trauma, I ended up unable to focus on homework, so instead Teresa and I watched movies for three nights in a row. Not a particularly productive use of time, but necessary.



Despite some of the heartache, though--or perhaps through it?--God has been teaching me about forgiveness. I'd kind of forgotten about such things as forgiveness, grace, compassion. That is, I'd forgotten about them in the context of showing them to someone who hurt me. And I was reminded again this week that even when I'm not big enough or brave enough or strong enough to be gracious, to show forgiveness, that God is big enough and brave enough and strong enough in my place. And that's all I really need, isn't it? I'd forgotten what it was like to have God create that space in my heart when I wasn't capable of doing it on my own. And He did it so quickly, too--I am blessed.



I am blessed, too, by the friends I have here in Missoula. I was sitting in my writing class today, looking around at everyone, and thinking just how much I like them all. The people with whom I interact every day are wonderful and funny and kind and good; they have added a richness to my life that I haven't had in a long time. It's nice to have wonderful people nearby to complement all my friends scattered across the globe: I love you all.



Okay, when I get sappy it's definitely time to sign off. Blessings and peace to all of you, wherever you may be!

Snow!

Yes, it's snowing here in Missoula, Montana, and it's beautiful. Even if it is 5:40 p.m. and completely dark already. I woke up half an hour before my alarm this morning, and looked outside, and there was the lightest dusting on grass and trees and roofs, and I just had to be out in it, so I went for an invigorating walk. It was a lovely way to begin my day. And then I dressed up, feeling quite sexy and, of course, empowered. A good way to begin the week.


I might be going to New Orleans in January. A couple of profs from the EVST department are leading a class which focuses on environmental and social justice, and New Orleans seems to be a good place to examine both. I've signed up for the class, but I have to work out the logistics. My tuition is paid for, but I still have to get myself down there--I'm going to do my best to go, as I think it will be very worthwhile.


We have a short week this week (the first since Labor Day week!) because of Veteran's Day on Friday. Support your local veteran! Or something. It's also Teresa's birthday this weekend, so we're in the process of planning the party--or, I should say, the fiesta, since it will be Mexican-themed. Chips 'n salsa, margaritas, a piñata, strip Twister . . . oh, wait. :P We were asking for suggestions today from fellow EVSTers for fun things to do; fortunately we are under no obligation to implement any of them. Besides, we don't really have room to play Twister in our apartment. Hee.


Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!


(Okay, okay, I know it's not Christmas, but it's snowing for heaven's sake. It feels like Christmas.)

All right, all right, all right, I'm blogging!

What's a person to do when being harrassed by her sister?
I hope you're happy, Andrea!

I have half an hour before my class this evening. I hope it actually ends at 6:30 as it's supposed to, since I'm going to a play tonight at 7:30. Yay, theatre! I'm excited; I haven't been to a theatre performance since Dordt's Jubilee productions, and that's been a long time ago. The play is "Proof," a Pulitzer-prize winner about, well, math. Once I read the review I knew I had to go in honor of my dad.

I think life is simply stressful sometimes. I've been feeling overwhelmed lately--it's a constant state of being--and I'm suddenly very, very much looking forward to Christmas break. To go through a day without a list of things that need to be done! To sleep late! To read whatever and whenever I want to! I can't wait.

Today I woke up and noticed that everything seemed very frosty outside. After putting on my glasses, I realized there was snow up on the mountains, and I could see the line between snow and no snow, the line between "cold enough" and "just a tiny bit too warm" for snow. There's something so exquisite about white snow cover on brown mountains and deep-green conifers--it makes me feel as though I'm in this other, pristine, quiet world. I need to go hiking again soon.

This weekend looks to be good--we're having an EVST game night at Kylie's house--I'm going to make peanut-butter chip chocolate death cookies (I'm thinking of you, Janelley!)--and on Saturday night there's a contra dance (like square dancing but more fun, or so I'm told) to benefit Hurricane Katrina victims--and I could play touch football on Sunday morning, but I think I'll opt for church instead. Unless I go the early service . . . hmm. We'll have to see. I'm distinctly feeling the need for more exercise; if I'm not careful, I'm going to have a Wally of my own, Andrea! Would they be brothers??

All right. I hope this satisfies those of you who have been wanting me to update my blog. Please comment--I switched the settings so my blog accepts anonymous comments. Then I can get a warm fuzzy feeling knowing that all my friends are staying updated on my life. :)

Love to all!

Sacred Water

I am told I must keep up the posting, so here goes.

I admit to feeling rather stressed lately. I have not taken enough time out for prayer, meditation, reflection, and, two months into the semester, this lack is beginning to wear on me. I seem to do little besides work and study, though occasionally I'll go out for supper with friends or take a hike in the mountains or bake zucchini bread. But I am feeling the need to structure such things as exercise, prayer, and writing into my day, and that has not yet happened. The longer I live (and granted, 26 years isn't really that long), the more I realize that this is a constant struggle.

On the other hand, I've enjoyed going out to the Old Post the past couple of nights to watch games 3 and 4 of the World Series, and I'm thrilled that the White Sox won! Though I woudn't have minded six or seven games--the Astros could have put up a little more of a fight, couldn't they have? At any rate, last night I was there with several friends from my environmental writing class, and we got into an involved discussion about the definition of "environmental" writing. I realized that, while I do dream of writing a book and publishing articles in magazines, I haven't done much, yet, to focus myself in that direction. When I write, I write things I feel need to be written--but they are more for me than for any outside audience. Another challenge.

But here's some more writing, since I know I need to be sharing my efforts with others. It's an excerpt from my second essay for my writing class.


Sacred Water

The most beautiful sea in which I’ve swam is at Moon Beach, a small resort on the shores of the Red Sea in Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula. Egypt, land of desert, heat, and sun—a land that knows and cherishes every drop of water, that guards with its craggy hills and harsh desert this slim sliver of sea. No palm trees, no sage brush, no superfluous vegetation, just sun and golden sand and red-brown rocky hills, and the sea,

the sea,

of the most exquisite blue-green you can imagine, turquoise water stretching out to touch a sapphire sky, with the horizon glittering between, and a caressing breeze to bring the water’s freshness to nose and mouth and lungs.

I splashed into that clear sea, calm but for a few wind-made ripples, and swam out, out, out—and then lay, effortlessly buoyant, and let the hot afternoon sunshine and warm perfect water lull me into a state of rest and salaam. Peace.

One night I abandoned my bungalow to sleep on the beach, pulling the thick wool blanket off my bed to wrap around me as I lay on a soft-cushioned beach chair. I woke several times during the night to see the stars luminous, glowing huge in the black sky above, to hear the waves singing softly with the rolling sand, to feel the tears sliding down my cheeks. When the sun rose early the next morning, sending golden light to reflect on the dawn-smooth sea, I sat on the cool sand, blanket tucked around me, and watched as a school of tiny silver fish flashed upward, leaping above the water, glittering like tossed coins.

My last swim in that water was a glorious baptism of water and light. Both skin and soul quenched their thirst as I swam half a kilometer out into the gulf. The sun shone down, the water buoyed me up, and my body was not light as air but light as water, and I felt myself become as transparent and fluid as the aquamarine sea. And my soul hovered on the surface of the deep.

Writings: An Essay's Beginning

Wendell Berry knows the importance of place.

“If you have no land,” he writes, “you have nothing: no food, no shelter, no warmth, no freedom, no life . . . I don’t think that being landed necessarily means owning land. It does mean being connected to a home landscape . . . The land is a gift of immeasurable value.”

I have learned, in my wanderings from place to place—Iowa to Egypt, Chicago to Charlotte, Midwest to mountain west—how right he is, how, unless I am connected to the landscape, I am not connected to a place at all.

My earliest connecting place—and the one to which I somehow keep returning—is in Sioux Center, Iowa, a little town tucked away in the northwest corner of the state. My connection to this landscape consists of lying on a soccer field, feeling cool dewy grass beneath my fingertips and seeing bright stars glimmering in the dark sky above. In that simple act of touching the earth with skull, spine, calves, palms, I feel linked not only to rural Iowa but to all of creation—sky, wind, earth, breath—and to God. Strange, perhaps, that something as mundane as a soccer field could provide a path to God, could heal (without fail) my tired and bruised spirit; strange, yes, that spending fifteen minutes lying on the precisely-clipped grass will almost always calm and quiet me.

My place of quiet and calm shifted to the shores of Lake Michigan when I lived in Chicago. The vast stretch of water, shifting and shimmering from deepest blue to green to silver, reminded me of long rows of corn and soybeans, changing colors as they shivered in the wind. But I discovered a new love, sitting on the edge of the lake. My eye was constantly drawn to that line between water and sky: the horizon, luring me, causing tears to lodge in the back of my throat, inspiring profusions of words that poured onto the pages of my journal. In the horizon I discovered a physical representation of hope.

I have never owned land. But so long as I have such places, places as simple as a soccer field or a lake, a place to be silent, a place to be healed, I recognize, and am grateful for, the gift of land. And for those few moments, I am an owner. I have bought that bit of space with the weight of my body, the reverence in my soul.

Party Night!

 We did NOT plan the red, but doesn't it look cool? Me, Teresa, Peter, Jeff, Catherine (all EVSTers), Cindy (my friend from church), Ruby, Joel (another friend from church), and Jeremy (fellow TA).

Amusing anecdote from our party night: So I bought this corkscrew from a thrift store for 50 cents. Beware anything that costs so little! Anyway, the darned thing doesn't work. So we had this lovely bottle of white wine, and a dysfunctional corkscrew. Jeff attempted his hiking boot method (holding the bottle upside-down, bang on it firmly with a heavy boot until the cork comes out about three-quarters of the way, making sure to stop before it comes all the way out, unless you want wine all over your carpet)--but to no avail. (In his defense, I have seen the hiking boot method used successfully.) Then Joel brilliantly remembered that he had a hatchet in his 4Runner. Of course--why didn't anyone think of it before?? Doesn't everyone use a hatchet in lieu of a corkscrew? We all trooped downstairs, standing on the porch a safe distance from Joel, who performed his act in the middle of the front lawn. Holding the bottle with one hand, he raised the other arm and--whoosh!--sliced the hatchet through the neck. The top of the bottle shattered into the darkness beyond the small pool of light from the porch, and Joel leaped to grab the bottom half before the precious wine spilled into the grass. Approximately half the wine was left, which was good enough for us. After picking up as many shards of glass as we could find using a dim flashlight, we went back inside to enjoy our victory.

Kids, please don't try this at home!

Jeff kindly bought us another corkscrew, which is far superior to the fifty-cent one, the boot, or the hatchet.

And today Teresa got a package from her parents, and inside was another corkscrew with a note: "So you don't have to use an axe. Love, Dad and Mom."









This is the creek I cross on my way down to the trail that parallels the Clark Fork River.

it's been awhile . . .

Missoula winter cloudiness is settling in, and I'm realizing already how much I'm going to miss the sunshine. We had a glorious sunny day yesterday, so I sat out on the Oval at school and soaked up the sun rays. But today was cloudy and cold, so I came home from my office early to cuddle up with a blanket or two and my philosophy reading. Philosophy reading is not terribly cozy, but I had little choice.

Life continues busily along, filled with grading student essays, designing lesson plans, reading reading reading, writing writing writing, a little partying on the weekends, a little socializing here and there, and some darned good baking! I made challah for a party last week, zucchini bread this weekend, and a caramel-almond torte for a birthday dinner yesterday. I'm finding baking to be very therapeautic; it's a good break from all the studying, and provides me and Teresa (and other fortunate friends) with happy tastebuds.

I can't believe I'm in my seventh week of grad school already. It hardly seems possible! Where did September go? How can it be October 11th already? But I can tell we're getting later into the semester: the work load is getting heavier, though it's still manageable. I don't have much down time, however, and I'm starting to feel the lack. All this beautiful wilderness around me, and I've hardly been able to enjoy it!

Today I'm a little more on top of the homework. I have my readings done for Thursday already, so perhaps I can get started working on my philosophy paper (due the 20th) or my second essay for environmental writing (due the 24th). Getting ahead: what a concept! Or perhaps I'll just finish reading The Blue Sword, which I've read 40 times, yet I've been trying to finish it for the past three weeks. (There's telling evidence of how little free time I have!)

Blessings to you all!