winter runs

I went for a run today, the second within two weeks, which for me is a new record. It wasn't a really long run--maybe a mile and a half--but it felt wonderful to get outside. I should do this more often. It was in the mid-40s and sunny today, and when 2:30 came around and I was still sitting by my desk, I realized the days wasn't going to last forever.
Almost as happy as I was to get out in the fresh air and remind myself of that simple rhythm, I was pleased that I had shown some decisiveness. I really hope to work on that.

There's a trail that winds around our athletic fields, concealed by a grove of firs and bordered on one side by a river. After some gravel it gives way to roots and pine needle beds, and today, some ice. Under those trees with a western sun coming through, and the green boughs that had fallen, and the ice crystals sparkling, it made a beautiful sight. So after the loop I trotted back to my room and got my camera and ran back. Then I cut back to a stroll and had some fun taking photos.

sleepy

I've been tired since classes started on Monday, and I don't know why. I've had plenty of sleep. As soon as I sit down to study, I feel it.
So, I'm off to bed and it's only 10:00. The East Asian history will have to get finished tomorrow before class.


There, that was a simple little post. I hope I can find time to write real stuff on here amidst all the other pages I'll have to read and write. I can see it starting to swell already, and I'm praying for dilligence and joy in it all--that I won't be trying to enjoy the end before it's over. But it's hard.

One of those thoughts you have when you're brushing your teeth

During this five week vacation I have slept in eight different beds: seven in different houses, six in different towns, and three in different states.

Here they are, in order:
Middlebury, VT (home) - 1 bed - several nights
Hot Springs Village, AR (Grandparents' house) - 1 guest bed - 4 nights
Conway, AR (Friend David's house) - 1 bed (one night) and 1 couch (3 nights)
Conway, AR (Friend Kristen's house) - 1 bunk bed - 1 night
Ludlow, VT (Cousin Adam's house) - 1 piece of foam on the floor - 1 night
Manhattan, NY (Friend Kwabena's apartment) - 1 futon - 3 nights
Clifton Park, NY (Friend Charlotta's house) - 1 guest bed - 1 night

I hadn't really been keeping track, but when I thought back it startled me in a funny way. I started at 5, then remembered another and another. I feel like a real sojourner.

NYC

This morning I returned from a visit to New York City. What a place. The city is a different world than everything else I'm used to. Space and proportion and motion all take on radically new meanings in that pile of structures and sounds and lights and people. Up here in the simple country I can expect to enter a restaurant without contorting through a crowd; I can expect to pass recognizable faces on the street; I can expect to hear a car rumble by every few minutes; and most of all, here I can expect not to see anything that surprises me. I tried not to be rude, but in the city, I felt like every person I saw was a fascination to me. What is that one like? What makes him dress that was? Why is her face so sad? I almost had to catch my breath, walking those wide sidewalks brushing past so many individual faces. Thinking about the size of all those people's lives and stories all at once made my head spin. And it still does, as I remember they still exist--all in different places than when I saw them, all at their jobs or asleep in their beds or full of pain or joy.

It was a fun trip. I had some good time for conversation with friends, ate some good food, and felt the strain of relaxation and sightseeing as we tried to coordinate 3 or 5 or 7 people's schedules. Thank goodness for cell phones. Thank goodness for friends who know the subway system and the good places to eat. And thanks to Kwabena for letting me stay on his futon.

I'll have pictures soon here

post # 30: about redemption

This morning something crystalized for me that had until now just been vague ideas. Now they're connected, and I feel like I can say it. I hope it isn't in that category of "too personal."

I am able to look back across the last ten years and see them as a kind of time when I've moved from one unhealthy fixation to the next. From 12 to 15 or so it was mountain biking. I drooled over the catalogues, watched the videos, hung out at the bike shop. Somewhere in there I met the Beatles and grew an unstoppable appetite for their albums, trivia, lives. That brought me into a long period of soaking myself in music in general, in whatever I liked the sound of and could discover. This coincided with a mini-obsession with stereo and computer equipment, and with my own computer, before Napster was shut down, it was trouble. In late high school years I spent literally hours every day in front of my computer plugged into headphones, endlessly downloading and organizing and listening. I had at the same time been learning to play guitar with a similar kind of instant-gratification mindset, and plucked away at the things I could easily learn. Guitar met computer, and my time was consumed with experimentations and fiddling. I didn't have much to record, though, because songwriting was too much work. And all of these chapters in my life, from 13 onward, were connected and soaked though and through with a wildly lustful thought life. There were good and positive things in there, but mostly its nothing to be proud of.

Leaving home for college, finding Jesus on my own, things have changed. In my life now I see a real picture of what redemption is: God has redeemed my interest in music, allowing me to fall in love with the good and to develop healthy appreciation of all kinds, showing me moderation and truth. He has redeemed my guitar hands to bring me and others real joy, and to bring attention to Him in worship. He has pulled me out of the quicksand of lust and is helping me understand what He means by Love. Of my life that was so often defined by fixations, he has helped me learn to fixate on the One deserving worship. "Not that I have already attained it," like Paul says, but thanks be to God for setting my feet on the right path. That's redemption.

So this was my 30th post, according to blogger. Not much for 8 months, but it's fine with me.

pictures from Arkansas trip

Right here.
When I got back I realized I'm not a very thorough picture-taker. Maybe I'm embarrased to always be pointing a camera at things. Maybe I'm forgetful. Lessons for the future, I s'pose.

winter walks

My mom is an avid walker. She works at an elementary school, and when she comes home it's usually, "I think I'll go out for a nice 4-miler. Want to come?"
I usually do--and these days I make sure I'm bundled up with wool socks and long johns. It's a tough balance, because you work up a sweat fast.
We had to leave Oliver behind today, because he's had a lame leg for a while. Poor guy.

I like the excercise, but the real reason I go is to share the time with my mom. Walking always stimulates good talks. I think the best conversations happen side by side, moving in a common direction, instead of sitting at a table or looking eachother in the eye. I can't explain it, but they do. Words and motion seem to act together nicely.

We talk about difficulties and fears, mostly, and family, and about spots we're wearing thin and showing our frailness. There's just the steady pace of walking and words.
I feel I've gotten to know my mother in a new way, like a real person instead of a mother and all that role entails. I start to see my sister and my dad through her eyes, and this increases their humanity too. I start to see myself through her eyes, and see again the miracle and wonder of generations and inheritances.

Today we got back to the house in the dark, in a calm snowfall. The lights were on inside and a fire was roaring in the woodstove. I peeled off all my sweaty layers and had a glass of water.