if one wants to laugh.
one must go here.

enjoy your weekend!

"I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time."
~ Jack London

"Eventually, mind discovers that it's free, that it's infinitely out of control and infinitely joyful. Eventually, it falls in love with the unknown. In that it can rest. And since it no longer believes what it thinks, it remains always peaceful, wherever it is or isn't."
~Byron Katie

the perfect kind of day.

my favorite hair cut of all time. yes, christmas decoration that are not read or green are all still up.

\the day began with a quick run outside with ballerina slippers to engage the clean air, test the wet (here they are drying after a scrub down) ground & pick up the consequences of accumulated winter trash that has been hibernating under the snow over the past two months. plastic bags shown after our weekly washing. christmas lights over the shower (since we moved in) as a gift from my husband to make it feel like every shower i take feel like it's under the stars.

such a beautiful warm day the rainbows & chacos were singing from the closet sweet words of potential spring/summer days.

edgar stopped over for quite some time to help jake work on the motorcycle and received his favorite treat - sweet butter corn muffins.

an early blossom.

each weekend we make our way over the John & Elaine's home to rest for a couple of hours. with conversation, laughter, rest & sweet treats they have become our surrogate grandparents in this cold city. on this particular day John did not bother to find Elaine upstairs. we think he just needed some time with us by himself. as we rested in his stories he shared memories of his childhood, feelings related to being a parent, his struggle with alcoholism and together we entered into a sacred time of passing on some of what he shared he has not even told Elaine after 40(ish) years of marriage.

I like this.

Everything's Amazing, Nobody's Happy.

articles that riled me up over the last couple days.

I quit, I think.

The Most Radical Thing You can Do.

V-Day.

question.

i'm a little angry this morning - the right kind of angry. the kind of angry that gets your blood boiling, arms waving, and husband saying, "please don't yell at me, i'm not the one you're angry at." still - he is the perfect kind of partner and takes the verbal abuse and confusion.

today's topic of conversation: are we really animals? do we, the greater society, really not think before acting? if so, how can this be? if not, how can we reconcile accountability for what we have done?

how do we reconcile patterning all of our children after each other by sending them all to public schools instead of letting them invent themselves and supporting them in doing so?

how do we reconcile watching men, groups of men, rape and abuse women across the globe with no recourse?

how do we reconcile the pressure to stay away from home, the essence of who we are and where we grow roots?

how do we reconcile city life, lack of health care (i spoke with a man for 10 mins. this morning outside of Aldi who has no insurance, is a roofer who feel off a roof this past summer and is now in poverty with limited options outside of begging), lack of forethought, insight, and long-term consequences?

are we really that animalistic?

"you do realize that if i was able to record and video tape your behavior in this house i would be able to receive some type of court settlement for mental and behavioral problems and concern."

spoken by my beloved.

tonight we're goin' here.

this morning i drove to work with the windows cracked open just a bit to remind myself that it's still Feb. it felt amazing.

i'm also wearing pink & read together with big hot pink hoops - one of the only redemptive plus points to v-day.

"you're like a kiss parasite," he says while walking out the door with a twinkle in his eyes.

last night i read almost an entire novel.

melatonin, where are thou?

this morning:

my husband spoke, "you smell so good in the morning when you're not farting."

i also took a nice morning walk to welcome in an early spring day. the sun is parting the darkness and i saw my first cardinal.

on living simply.

the rich usually imagine that, if they do not physically rob the poor, they are committing no sin. but the sin of the rich consists in not sharing their wealth with the poor. in fact, the rich person who keeps all his wealth for himself is committing a form of robbery. the reason is that in truth all wealth comes from God, and so belongs to everyone equally. the proof of this is all around us. look at the succulent fruits which the trees and the bushes produce. look at the fertile soil which yields each year such an abundant harvest. look at the sweet grapes on the vines, which gives us wine to drink. the rich may claim that they own many fields in which fruits and grain grow; but it is God who causes seeds to sprout and mature. the duty of the rich is to share the harvest of their fields with all who work in them and with all in need.

saint john chrysostom, on living simply

this morning i woke up after a full night of sleep to sun (at 6:40am!) and the song of birds.

the best is yet to come...

But for most, it is not written....

Empty the Cities

In many recent discussion I have stated, half jokingly and half seriously that we should all collectively declare urbanism a failed experiment, and move back to the country to reform our farming based communities of ages past. Cities, which form the incubation hot-bed of new ideas and culture, are also farms of consumption, waste, and destruction of ecology, life, and spirit. Of course this is a gross over-simplification of a vast problem that does not lie just within the limits of our "great" cities, but as a boiled down synthesis, it will have to do.

Just today I saw an article that further fuels the fire of fleeing urbanism. This article in the Boston Globe, How the city hurts your brain, is a commentated collection of psychological and behavioral studies done on individuals after being exposed to nature of urban environments.

Because the article is long, and many of us live in urban environments and therefore have limited attention spans, I shall pull out some of the more pertinent points of the article.

"Just being in an urban environment, they have found, impairs our basic mental processes. After spending a few minutes on a crowded city street, the brain is less able to hold things in memory, and suffers from reduced self-control."

Limited memory abilities and limited self-control? Sounds just about right from my experience here in Chicago and previous experiences living in other major metropolis centers like Mexico City.

"In a study published last month, Berman outfitted undergraduates at the University of Michigan with GPS receivers. Some of the students took a stroll in an arboretum, while others walked around the busy streets of downtown Ann Arbor.

The subjects were then run through a battery of psychological tests. People who had walked through the city were in a worse mood and scored significantly lower on a test of attention and working memory, which involved repeating a series of numbers backwards. In fact, just glancing at a photograph of urban scenes led to measurable impairments, at least when compared with pictures of nature."

And for the ADHD child thriving in your skin...

"This also helps explain why, according to several studies, children with attention-deficit disorder have fewer symptoms in natural settings. When surrounded by trees and animals, they are less likely to have behavioral problems and are better able to focus on a particular task."

For my college age friends still all-nighting their way through papers and test preparation...

"When a park is properly designed, it can improve the function of the brain within minutes. As the Berman study demonstrates, just looking at a natural scene can lead to higher scores on tests of attention and memory. While people have searched high and low for ways to improve cognitive performance, from doping themselves with Red Bull to redesigning the layout of offices, it appears that few of these treatments are as effective as simply taking a walk in a natural place."

Jess and I both know how much nature impacts us for the better, but I think I always thought that the negative side of the city was just because it lacked nature, not because the very essence of the city was damaging to the psyche.

Sigh...

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

~ Mary Oliver ~

:Congratulations to Rachel, Cory, Shawna, Beth, Sofia, Trisha & Alissa! Each of you will be receiving a copy of one of the preceding pictures in your January Christmas Card. If you're really bent on have one of each photo to make a complete set please let us know and we'll be sure to meet your every need:

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST CAUSE TEMPORARY OR PERMANENT DAMAGE TO YOUR SCROOGE SPIRIT. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

From our home to yours - Have a joyous Christmas!

- Jake, Jess & Herman (our turtle) -

*This pictures series is actually a set of eight. If you leave a comment under this blog post you have entered yourself in the drawing to win the other two pictures. Therefore, comment at your own risk and know that the more you comment, the higher the chance you have to win all eight!

The Power of Proximity
Kirsten Penner Krymusa

Lispa walks into a room like a Maya Angelou poem. Hips swaying, eyes sparkling, large smooth arms picking up scattered toys and books without ever breaking her stride. She repeats my daughters’ names with her lilting Kenyan accent, over and over, her motherly mantra. There’s a quiet dignity to Lispa’s manner. A refusal to hurry. A steady rhythm that beats somewhere below the surface as she walks to the clothesline in her worn blue flip-flops or bends at the waist to scrub the floor.

Lispa works for me. She does my housework, bakes my bread, and occasionally watches my girls when I’m tired or need to run a quick errand. I’ve come to accept the bizarre reality of having a houseworker while I live in Kenya. I make a concerted effort to be a fair employer, to give her a generous wage, to inquire about her family and thank her for her help. But the truth is that when Lispa enters my house each morning, she brings with her an undeniable discomfort. Because although I lead a modest life by any North American standard - no large appliances, no screens on my windows, intermittent power and water - when Lispa walks in the room, I’m rich. Filthy rich.

I tend to bemoan my cramped kitchen and complain when the power goes out while I’m on the computer. I scroll through websites and long for high-tech toys for my 4 month old daughter. I rifle through my t-shirt drawer in despair, dreaming of the convenience of a Canadian shopping mall.

And then Lispa walks in. Lispa, who lives in a one room house with her husband and 3 children. Who irons her two dresses with meticulous care. Who can barely cram all my daughters’ toys into our large toy basket while her children play soccer with a ball of knotted rags.

Maybe there’s an immorality to having someone who is so poor enter right into the middle of all my wealth. But maybe there’s also value in the juxtaposition - a refining that comes with the discomfort. Because if Lispa didn’t work for me, the reality would be the same. I’d still be way too rich. And she’d still be somewhere in a tiny crowded room, way too poor. When I lived in my funky downtown apartment in Canada, washing my own floors and doing my own laundry in the basement laundromat, there were still millions of Lispas in the world trying to scrape by one more day - sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. The difference wasn’t in the disparity, just the proximity.

Whenever Lispa stands in front of my full pantry and asks quietly if I might be able to spare some extra sugar for her family, whenever I drive by the devastating Kiberra slum on a family outing to the giraffe park, whenever I slow down my Subaru for an elderly woman carrying a load of firewood on her back, I remember that things are not right. That ours is a broken and unjust world, and that I do not have the luxury of complacency.

I wonder how I’ll maintain that awareness when I do move back to North America some day. I know all too well how easy it is to exist in a comfortable middle class bubble. If I plan my route through the city carefully, I could probably go weeks without even seeing people poorer than me, let alone actually having a relationship with them. And I think there’s an immorality to that as well, or at least a grave danger. Because those of us who are rich cannot afford to be too comfortable with our wealth - especially those of us who claim to be “little Christs”. I know Jesus had encounters with those in circles of wealth and comfort, but most of the time, he chose to seek out the sick and poor and outcasts. So maybe there’s moral value in proximity with the poor. Maybe Lispa is helping me develop the spiritual discipline of discomfort.

- found on Burnside Writers Collective -

there is something comforting about bread & butter.

Another cryptic message.

The week has increased in difficulty in some ways, and eased in others. Please be in prayer for the students I work with.

In the advent of these learning curves I have lost sleep and found courage. Such a silly word, makes me think of lions and tiger and bears (Oh My!). It's not a characteristic I have had to summon on a regular basis.

Still, because I am free to accept or refuse this summoning of courage, I will scream I am not able, yell I'm not worthy and consent to the road before me.

Yesterday morning I had a solid cry as part of this experience. Jake held my shaking body and offered me a gift, the tree of life. A beautiful glass pendant of a blossoming tree and placed in gently around my neck.

May the God who created the trees which bring life to us all bring you peace and joy on this day.