Fuckin' Change

The other day I was rushing like normal, to work. On the way I passed this man sitting on the ground next to a women. Both were homeless, begging for change from the many people passing them by. I saw them of course, but my mind was set on the fact that I was already late. Stopping would take time, and it also meant I had to open my purse, find my wallet, and take out some money.

What an inconvenience.

As I passed by the man he looked straight at me and yelled "Give me your fuckin' change!" Mind you I had my earphones in and my Ipod was on, but there was no ignoring his voice.

I continued walking on right by without even giving him a glance, thinking 1) What right does this man have to treat me like that, and say something like that, and 2) Now I really don't want to give him any money.

A couple steps later I realized what I had just been thinking.

What right does this man have? He has every right. What right do I have to treat him like that? I have none.

So with my pride knocked down by the conviction of the Holy Spirit I reached into my bag, pulled out my wallet and turned around and back down the street.

As I approached him I looked him in the eyes and said "Hey man I'm sorry I ignored you earlier. I was late for work, but you don't deserve to be treated like that. Have a great day."

The man thanked me and smiled, and I continued on to work.

It was completely humbling.

Easy Distance

Sometimes it's just easier to give up. It's easier to just distance yourself from what you don't want to deal with. It's why people don't like to confront one another, because by not doing anything, we pretend that conflict doesn't exist, and by not existing we can live in our own world untouched by hurt, or the potential for hurt.

I think its the potential for hurt that gets us the most.

When there's a decision, a definitive outcome, it means that actions and emotions can be taken and felt accordingly. And even when there is a decision, sometimes they're subjective to both parties, which leads to confusion.

So as a result it becomes easier to simply choose the distance rather then to face the possibility of subjective discord between both parties. It limits awkwardness, potential hurt, and unwanted situations........or so it seems.

So the question is, what is a biblical response to all this?

Easy distance. Conflict. Emotional detachment. Patience. Confrontation. Obligation. Quiet acceptance. Trying to fight.

Or does it simply depend on what season of life God has put you in? What does "trust God" really mean in this context? Does trust = distance or diving in?

I don't have an answer yet.

But after all these years I'm still no good at understanding my emotions.

Confused...........but never emo.

Milk Not Pineapple Juice

To say that I'm scared would be an understatement. Terrified would probably be a better word.

"How are you feeling about this upcoming year?" was the very simple question asked by a very good friend, as we parted ways after another long summer.

And I think that up until then, up until tonight, I had been dreading my answer.

In Genesis 22, Abraham goes to offer a sacrifice to God. As he and his son Isaac travel on their donkeys, his son asks a valid question, "Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?." Little does he know that in fact he is the one supposed to be sacrificed. Just as Abraham is about to kill his son, he is stopped by an angel. Then the Lord says "Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld me from your son, your only son."

Fear of God.

And that's why I'm terrified.

Now don't take this the wrong way. By fear of God it doesn't mean that I'm like a mouse hiding in terror from the snake ready to devour it. Rather fear of God denotes a great deal of respect, a lack of power on my part, and a lack of control over my own life. Fear of God is acknowledging that you a rendered useless to the power of the Almighty. It's a humbling position really.

And don't take being terrified as a bad thing either. It's not that I find myself terrified of being struck down dead by lightening. Instead I find myself terrified because I don't know the outcome of this next year, the good and the bad. I'm terrified because I find myself at the feet of the Almighty Lord, waiting to see what he has in store for me. It's a good kind of terrified, but still a bit unnerving. I'm terrified because I know the outcome will ultimately be good, yet I'm terrified that the in between parts will be a mountain and a half to climb.

Another reason I'm terrified is because I know that this year will be more difficult than last semester, and that it'll mean I have to give out every last drop of milk that I have in my cup.

My brother made the analogy that whatever you fill yourself up with, you will over flow with. With glass of milk for instance, it starts off empty and dry, stripped down of any ounce of liquid. When milk is poured in, it not only fills the empty void, but eventually causes it to overflow. And out of that overflow, what drips over the sides? Milk. Not water, not orange juice, or pineapple juice, or Coke, but milk. And its the same with us. The more we empty ourselves, and let God fill us, the more we can overflow God out of our cups.

Throughout last semester God kept asking me if I trusted that he would get me through it.

 And he did.

Not only did he get me through, but he told me that by getting through it, by trusting Him, that it would be a test, a prelim for what was yet to happen this year. He told me that this year would be harder, more draining emotionally, and spiritually, but that it would be good for me. That by the end of it I would come out worn out, and beaten, but better. He told me to let my cup overflow and become as empty as it was before he filled it, to give my all in this last year.

And that's why I'm terrified, because ultimately I know the end goal will be far more then I deserve or could have dreamed of.

And that freaks me out a bit. ;)

Dancing Full Out

In dance, there's a phrase that's often used; dancing "full out." Performances are danced "full out" whereas rehearsals may or may not be danced "full out." What the phrase means is to dance at one's best, to dance to the fullest potential possible, to dance with passion, emotion, and energy. To dance "full out" is to give the audience the best of you, to become immersed in the character, to leave your heart out on the stage by the end of the piece.

And yet it takes a lot of work to dance like that.

First its learning the steps, the movements, the type of dance, the style, all the basic elements. It's about learning the timing, the dynamics of the piece, and mastering the difficult turns or jumps. Then come multiple rehearsals solely focused on memorizing and perfecting the dance. Most often this becomes the time when constructive criticism from the choreographer or director helps to "clean" the piece. All the while the emotions and passions of the dance slowly begin to build and take form, and every so often the dance is rehearsed "full out" so that the dancers can get a taste of what it's like to perform at their best. Then finally, the piece is performed completely "full out" to a live audience, and is received with a loud applause.

Dancing full out.

It's a lesson that I'm learning towards the end of this summer. To dance at my best, go at it hard, even though the rehearsals are difficult, draining emotionally and physically. To jump in with both feet, knowing that I'll land in the water, or rather in His arms. And even though I know that there is the possibility that sharks might attack me, that I might flounder in the water for  bit, or that I might even hit the rocks at the bottom, its learning to have the faith that I'll get out of that ocean current. Maybe a bit bruised and hurt, but ultimately stronger for having fought the battle, and hopefully a bit wiser.

And dancing full out is hard. You may know all the steps and be perfect at them, but it doesn't lead to a great dancer. Dancing full out means involving a bit of your soul in the movement, into the song. You have to be vulnerable enough to the possibility of exploring inner emotions, some of which could be painful. But yet the payoff is that the emotions, no matter if they are happy or sad, become a source of strength to the dancer. 

And this makes the dance and the dancer beautiful.

Of course there is a balance. Too much emotion and it becomes overwhelming, and even hinders the dancer from performing. Not enough emotion leads to a dull performance that no one wants to watch.

But with just the right balance and confidence, beauty arises with a grace-full twirl.

And faith leads to the sound of a brilliant applause.

Part 1 Euro-Extravaganza: Madrid

Part 1 of the Euro-Extravaganza began in the lovely city of Madrid. Having never been to Europe Madrid definitely showed off the good side of Europe. The people, the food, and the sights were all delicious.....yes ALL of them were. The city itself was very clean (this comment pertains specifically to the Metro which put the NY subway to shame) and more spread out then I imagined. All in all it wasn't too difficult to explore the city (even with my sad 5 year old Spanish skills) which is very tourist friendly.

Day 1: Saturday May 17
We began with a flight from JFK, and after purchasing a dinner of hummus to eat with our Trader Joe's Bagel/Pita chips, Kissa and I sat down and waited for our plane. The flight itself wasn't too bad (I have to admit I slept for the majority of it) and once again God blessed me with nice companions for the flight. Alessandro sat on my right, a blond blue-eyed Italian, in his late 20's who was had been visiting the city for vacation. We had a nice little conversation about a variety of things, and his biggest piece of advice? Make sure I go to Paris with my boyfriend because it is the "City of Love." Good thing I had Kissa with me to serve as my date/lover for the trip, haha. On the other side of of the row next to Kissa was Jorge, a very smiley and cheerful man probably in his early 50's. Jorge was definitely interested in us from the beginning, I think he was surprised to see two small Asian Americans sitting on a plane, trying to remember and practice any ounce of Spanish left in our bones. He was very helpful however, and was more than willing to give us tips on what to do in Madrid. Two important things: eat tapas and pulpo de gallega, both of which we did. Jorge also was kind enough to answer our questions about Spanish words, which ranged from asking him what to call a cup to what conseguir meant. And to top it all off he wished us good luck as we parted ways.

I like meeting strangers on planes. =)

Day 2: Sunday May 18
After getting into Madrid, we got our luggage and took a cab to our hostel. We found ourselves outside of a sketchy looking building, and walked into a darkened hallway, and into a really old school elevator. To get in you had to open the outside gate, enter through two swinging doors, making sure you locked the outside gate, and then up you went. Very quaint and old school, but awesome. We met Francisco who showed us our room (complete with a tv, 3 beds (yes 3!) and a desk. The bathrooms we shared with the rest of the girls on the floor, consisting of 2 showers and one toilet. The hostel we stayed at was a students hostel, and so every so often you'd hear some others conversing in different languages.

Once we were settled in at the hostel we went on to find a bank. Quite an adventure as we explored the city for the first day. First thing I ate was a boccadillo con jamon serrano, DELICIOUS. Boccadillo's are Spanish sandwiches, basically a baguette with ham (more like proscuitto then American sandwich ham, and therefore even more yummy.) We explored the Retiro Park for a bit before getting blown away by pollen and dirt (after we drank our first Spanish Coke - for the record it taste pretty good, maybe better than American Coke, and is always served with a slice of lemon.) From there we went to the Puerta del Sol where we encountered our first Museo Del Jamon. While it is most definitely NOT a museum, it has tons of meat, more like a deli. We stopped off to get some candy at a Haribo store, and then went home to rest up for the next day.

Day 3: Monday May 19
We started off the day at the Palacio Real, which was beautiful (thanks to Bekah who suggested it.) Large and picturesque were each of the rooms and the entire palace itself. After sneaking in an illegal picture or two, and taking absolutely too many between and through columns, we then went to the cathedral that was next to the palace.

It was interesting being in the cathedral. For one thing its different being in a type of church like it, because 1) Most Christian churches aren't built like cathedrals, and 2) it's also a piece of artwork. The stained glass windows, along with all the architectural aspects were simply amazing. The mosaic ceilings, were a blur of colors and images, and gave a sort of lightness to such a holy place. The second thing that interested me about being in the cathedral was that I felt the majesty of God in that place. I understood why Catholics seem to distance themselves from a personal relationship with God's to one where there God is the authoritative figure. Not saying its bad, if anything it was a feeling I haven't felt for a while. Few times do I ever feel that small at the feet of God, but in this cathedral, I felt God's power. I felt that I was in the presence of something so much bigger than me, that all I could do was be in complete awe as a result of his all mighty nature, and my insignificance.

From the cathedral we went to the Real Madrid Soccer Stadium. Too cheap to pay for a tour, we walked around the entire stadium (took lots of pictures for my brother) and even got to sneak a picture of the field through an opening where some men were doing construction. From then we spent the afternoon at Plaza Mayor, where I had my first chocolate con churros and cafe con leche (can we say YUM!), and then later had dinner at a nice restaurant.

For the sake of the length of this blog I will write a short description of the food, but let it be known that it was all sooo good. =)
Pulpo de gallega - buttery slices of potato, with tender pieces of octopus on top, with a splash of olive oil and a sprinkle of paprika
Stuffed Pimientos - Small red peppers stuffed with seafood in a tomato cream sauce.
Sopa Castilliano - Serrano ham based soup, with pieces of bread, and a fried egg at the bottom
Sangria - you better know what this is

Day 3: Tuesday May 20
On our last day in Madrid we visited the famous Prado Museum, which had a special exhibit on Goya. Not realizing the extent of our exhaustion and the grandeur of the museum we quickly went through it and took a short 10 minute nap on one of the benches inside.

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NOTE: Goya
So I learned about Goya in my art history class, and I never was particularly fond of his art until I was able to see it up close and in full scale. In particular one of his paintings, The Third of May 1808, never struck a cord with me until I got to see it at the Prado. In books you can't really see the man's eyes, but in person.....well the painting depicted so much humanity in the eyes of the man, ready to die. The exhibition displayed Goya's works that were based on his feelings towards war. Some of them are really difficult to look at, not simply because they are gruesome, but rather because they indicate reality.

In seeing Goya's work I had to admire the man. You can't look at it and not realize the heavy burden he must have carried. His heart obviously hurt for victims of war, for injustice that occurred. His mind must have been heavy as he tried to explain his complex emotions through art. I saw his paintings not only as an expression of the situations around him, but as an image of his heart, torn, broken, and burdened. Burdened so much so that he had to express himself in a way that affects so many future generations, people like myself. And while it may seem depressing at some points, it in some way encouraged me to have hope. It reminded me that everyone carries some sort of heavy burden, for all sorts of things in the world. It reminded me that its ok to share that burden too, because perhaps it can encourage others to do something about injustice, like how Goya's artwork has affected me and so many others.
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After the Prado we stopped of for lunch at Plaza Mayor one last time, for paella and mas churros. Interestingly enough we had a waiter who was from China. I finally had the chance to carry a conversation in English, Chinese, and Spanish. =) Then we went back to the hostel to pick up our stuff, drag it through the Metro, got on a plane, and flew to Barcelona.............where the real fun began.

A Lion's Head and a Potential for Piece

I sit in Kimmel on the 8th floor trying to finish my 15 page paper thats due by 5 PM this Friday. So far I have a little more than half done, not bad considering I have been pretty distracted in the last couple of days. Lots of lunches, late nights, and last minute conversations, but all in all not too bad of a finals week.

So as I've been writing I've noticed two things:

1) A Lion's Head

NYU has many unecessary things it does with its money, but there are sometimes where I honestly wonder who in their right mind thought of this stupid idea. I sit next to the large glass windows, with a perfect view of 5th Avenue across from me (along with a dirt image of where the fountain used to be.........I can't believe they moved it, but thats another blog), a comfy chair, a table to put my computer on, and a 3 1/2 foot statue of a lion staring at me.

I have to be honest, the lion doesn't look that bad, aside from the fact that it looks a bit neglected and dusty, more of a gray color than the pristine white I would expect of NYU. It also appears to be eating a tassle/piece of cloth/ sash, that I can't really figure out. It's altogether a bit confusing (well at least the lion looks confused.......I mean sitting on the 8th floor of Kimmel? I would be a bit confused too....)

However unecessary and absurd the lion's placement is (I might add that he actually does have a friend on the other side of the floor so he's not completely alone at night when everyone leaves) it has been a good companion for the past couple of hours. So maybe that was NYU's intent in placing the poor lion here. He makes sure students don't go crazy studying for finals, even though they might think they are hallucinating when they see him staring at them for 4.5 hours.

2) A Potential for Peace

I've been sitting here to finish my essay on the outcome of the Democratic primaries, which basically means I get to figure out if Obama or Clinton wins the nomination. It's not a terrible assignment, just a bit long. But while you would think that the past 4.5 hours of work would be among the most boring and grueling of hours..........it really hasn't been at all.

I've learned that I really enjoy writing. That for me, writing leads to a potential for piece or peace.

I've always enjoyed writing. Even from 5th grade I wanted to be an author. English has always been the easiest subject for me (minus writing the essay freshman year, which kind of counts as an English class.) I find that through writing I can piece together, or piece apart my thoughts, and figure out what to do with them, and start to understand them.

So the last few hours of work, well they haven't been too bad. Just some interesting topics, some (hopefully) good writing, and good music.

I'm set, lets finish this thing.

When I want to do good..........I just can't.

Sometimes it's hard to understand why hurt happens.

Why, in a world that is already torn apart and broken, do we choose to make it even harder than it needs to.
Why, in the moments where we could change things, in the moments we could actually lessen the potential for hurt, do we instead choose to continue on, leading us to hurt people we care about in the worst way possible.
Why, do honest answers seem to escape our lips, even though we know the truth will hurt less then the lie we continue to find ourselves in.

So many times, if we had just been upfront and truthful, would broken hearts have been spared, would the waterfall of tears been reduced to a simple stream.

And I understand that hurt of any degree probably feels the same to that person going through it. I'm not saying it would hurt less. But maybe the aftermath would be easier to heal if we could just be honest.

And I understand that it's hard to tell someone you've betrayed them, that you're going to hurt them, that you can't understand why you've acted the way you did, when you want to do what's right. It says in Romans 7, "For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me." meaning that our sinful nature is the reason why we do it, although it doesn't mean its right.

So while we want ultimately to do good, sin once again gets in the way, and THIS is the reason why God comes into the picture. Amidst our broken relationships, our imperfect lives, we try as hard as we can to make it better. We try telling the truth, we try being completely honest, we try to do good always. But its never good enough, because somehow its the sinful nature that continues to live and breathe in us, even when we think we've shoved it down to the deepest parts of the earth.

And then God comes in to make us whole, to overcome the sinful nature within us. He comes to defeat the "evil right there with me" in order that we may live a free life. He lets us DO the good we want because he provides strength to conquer our inner self and do what is right.

And this is why relationships without his presence fall apart, because there is no one to provide freedom so that both people can care and love each other equally.

If one person is stuck in the sinful nature while the other is free, it's like a person trying to free a prisoner. While the one person is free on the outside, they first have to break into the prison gates, past the electric fences and guards. Once inside they still have to sneak past more guards, and find the cell where the other person is being kept. After that there are thick metal doors to get through, along with the prison bars. Even after that, if the person happens to be freed, there's still the psychological and even physical barriers that need to be broken down before that person can even completely enjoy their freedom.

And that is why it's so hard to have relationships without God, because ultimately a normal person can't break that easily into prison.

Only God can.