With my glasses off,
the city lights look like a wall of a hundred frozen fireworks,
a parade of party-dandelions,
a choir of quiet crickets.
23.8.08
12.8.08
Long Live Life
I am loving life right now. I'll attribute some of it to the fact that I am done with the major Urban Term assignments. What a breath of relief!
Tonight, my family went to my grandparents' house because my cousins and uncle from Hawaii are staying there for a week. They visit us each year, and I'm glad to have seen them tonight. We're planning on seeing each other during this week before I head back to school on Saturday.
I brought a book with me that I intended to read during the car ride to my grandparents' house. It's called Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright, a theologian. My dad brought the book home from the library. It's about the implications of belief in the bodily resurrection of Jesus. I left it on the floor of my grandparents' house, and before we left, Ojiichan (my grandpa) was reading it. Neither he nor Obaachan are Christians, and when he handed the book to me, he said something like, "There's a lot of high thinking in this book." I told him, "Yeah. I just started reading it."
I hope he believes in Jesus. I hope he finds hope in the life that Jesus brings.
I think the main reason I am loving life is because of this idea that I've been hearing and reading about, the idea that God loves life; not just our souls, but our bodies, the works of our hands, the food we eat, the moonlight lying sideways on my bed, our gathering together. I've often felt like maybe God doesn't love these things because they are physical, and for some reason, sometimes I associate fleshly things with sin. But the fact that God became a human in Jesus, that God had skin on his arms and color in his eyes and pitch to his voice, suggests that perhaps God loves the life we live, the goodness of life, the goodness of creation. And while sin came to steal life from us, cursing us with death, Jesus triumphs over death. He is the resurrection and the life!
So if it's true that God loves life--the same righteous things we love, like hanging out, throwing a frisbee, listening to music, reading good, old books, writing, language, grilling cheese sandwiches, slicing apples, if these things can be considered righteous or, at least, good--then that gives me the freedom to love life. If it's true, then maybe I am loving life right, now.
Tonight, my family went to my grandparents' house because my cousins and uncle from Hawaii are staying there for a week. They visit us each year, and I'm glad to have seen them tonight. We're planning on seeing each other during this week before I head back to school on Saturday.
I brought a book with me that I intended to read during the car ride to my grandparents' house. It's called Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright, a theologian. My dad brought the book home from the library. It's about the implications of belief in the bodily resurrection of Jesus. I left it on the floor of my grandparents' house, and before we left, Ojiichan (my grandpa) was reading it. Neither he nor Obaachan are Christians, and when he handed the book to me, he said something like, "There's a lot of high thinking in this book." I told him, "Yeah. I just started reading it."
I hope he believes in Jesus. I hope he finds hope in the life that Jesus brings.
I think the main reason I am loving life is because of this idea that I've been hearing and reading about, the idea that God loves life; not just our souls, but our bodies, the works of our hands, the food we eat, the moonlight lying sideways on my bed, our gathering together. I've often felt like maybe God doesn't love these things because they are physical, and for some reason, sometimes I associate fleshly things with sin. But the fact that God became a human in Jesus, that God had skin on his arms and color in his eyes and pitch to his voice, suggests that perhaps God loves the life we live, the goodness of life, the goodness of creation. And while sin came to steal life from us, cursing us with death, Jesus triumphs over death. He is the resurrection and the life!
So if it's true that God loves life--the same righteous things we love, like hanging out, throwing a frisbee, listening to music, reading good, old books, writing, language, grilling cheese sandwiches, slicing apples, if these things can be considered righteous or, at least, good--then that gives me the freedom to love life. If it's true, then maybe I am loving life right, now.
8.8.08
Mark and his friends
Mark had been standing outside the laundromat when I walked in, looking for him. When I saw him leaning against the glass window, I wanted to pretend like I hadn't gone inside yet, so I went out again and greeted him as if I just arrived. He was wearing a ruby t-shirt, shorts, and an old baseball cap. We said hi, asked each other how we're doing, and went inside to sit on the benches.
The laundromat is like most laundromats I've seen, with about four rows of washing machines surrounded by dryers lined up against the walls. On either end of the room there are coin dispensers, and perched on one wall is an old TV. There's also a soda machine and an arcade system. Huge carts like shopping carts where people put their clothes are parked in some of the pathways, and of course, there are people. The main difference between Mark's laundromat and the laundromats I've seen is that his is always occupied with a handful of people. Based on what I've observed, Mark is like an older brother to many of them.
Once, when I had gone on a long walk, I stopped by the laundromat to say hello to Mark. The sun had turned my clothes into a drying machine and me into the pair of socks inside, so Mark put some quarters in the soda machine and gave me a cold iced tea.
Today, I was visiting Mark for an assignment for class. I needed to ask him a few questions about City Heights, since he's lived there for 18 years. Before we got into it, though, Mark told me that he's working on a few stories. One story, the Laundromat Saga, is based on his observations at the laundromat. He said he gets to meet so many different characters. One of these people happened to be sitting outside as we spoke. The man couldn't hear us, but Mark knocked on the glass to say hello. The man smiled and knocked back. This man lives in his car and works at a restaurant in La Mesa, but comes by the laundromat every morning.
Mark's eyes and voice are alive, and they express his kindness, his warm love. I look forward to reading his book. As our time together ended, my dad called to let me know he was at the library to pick me up; I had lost track of time. Mark offered me a ride to the library, which I accepted. He met my dad, and we said good bye.
"Rest"
I asked myself, who thinks so highly of himself, to tell me where is rest.
And I went to powerful youths who can draw forth attention from thousands of men.
We all shook our heads and gave me a smile as though I was asking a foolish question.
And then one Thursday afternoon I wandered out along Marlborough Street
And I saw Mark and his friends in the laundromat washing their clothes, watching TV, sleeping on the benches.
The laundromat is like most laundromats I've seen, with about four rows of washing machines surrounded by dryers lined up against the walls. On either end of the room there are coin dispensers, and perched on one wall is an old TV. There's also a soda machine and an arcade system. Huge carts like shopping carts where people put their clothes are parked in some of the pathways, and of course, there are people. The main difference between Mark's laundromat and the laundromats I've seen is that his is always occupied with a handful of people. Based on what I've observed, Mark is like an older brother to many of them.
Once, when I had gone on a long walk, I stopped by the laundromat to say hello to Mark. The sun had turned my clothes into a drying machine and me into the pair of socks inside, so Mark put some quarters in the soda machine and gave me a cold iced tea.
Today, I was visiting Mark for an assignment for class. I needed to ask him a few questions about City Heights, since he's lived there for 18 years. Before we got into it, though, Mark told me that he's working on a few stories. One story, the Laundromat Saga, is based on his observations at the laundromat. He said he gets to meet so many different characters. One of these people happened to be sitting outside as we spoke. The man couldn't hear us, but Mark knocked on the glass to say hello. The man smiled and knocked back. This man lives in his car and works at a restaurant in La Mesa, but comes by the laundromat every morning.
Mark's eyes and voice are alive, and they express his kindness, his warm love. I look forward to reading his book. As our time together ended, my dad called to let me know he was at the library to pick me up; I had lost track of time. Mark offered me a ride to the library, which I accepted. He met my dad, and we said good bye.
"Rest"
I asked myself, who thinks so highly of himself, to tell me where is rest.
And I went to powerful youths who can draw forth attention from thousands of men.
We all shook our heads and gave me a smile as though I was asking a foolish question.
And then one Thursday afternoon I wandered out along Marlborough Street
And I saw Mark and his friends in the laundromat washing their clothes, watching TV, sleeping on the benches.
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