One of my friends from Skid Row, named Joe, wrote this prayer. This man and his words are very beautiful so I thought I'd share them both with you:
"There are many medicines and cures for all kinds of sicknesses. But unless kind hands are given in service, and generous hearts are given in love, I do not think there can ever be a cure for the terrible sickness of feeling unloved.
None of us has the right to condemn anyone. Even when we see people doing bad and we don't know why they do it, Jesus invites us not to pass judgment. Maybe we are the ones who have helped make them what they are. We need to realize that they are our brothers and sisters. The alcoholic, that drug addict, that sick person, they are our brothers because they too have been created for a greater love. This is something we should never forget.
Jesus Christ identifies Himself with them and says, 'Whatever you did to my brethren, you did to me.' Perhaps it is because we haven't given them our understanding and love that they find themselves on the streets without love or care.
Be kind, very kind to the suffering poor. We little realize what they go through. The most difficult part if not being wanted."
Lord Jesus, change our hearts - make them like yours.
13 July 2009
11 June 2009
Discipline and Punish
Although I don't think my parents ever did anything very dramatic to teach me a lesson, there is one particular episode that remains forever imprinted on my mind.
I was five years old and it was the night before the annual Vichy Elementary Fun Run. Big day. My mom had signed up to volunteer the next morning at the registration table, and I was going to join her, being a big-helper-girl and all. At least... that's what I thought.
The specifics of the situation are still a little murky to me. Apparently, I broke something. But not just "broke something" my mom reminds me. I maliciously and spitefully cast her cow-shaped, milk pitcher to the ground. The parents say I was angry about not getting my way. So I had a fit and broke that pitcher, as if showing them the strength of my emotion would change their minds. Guess what? It didn't.
Instead, the pronouncement came: "Caroline, you can't go with your mom to the Fun Run early tomorrow. You have to stay home."
Torture.
Even as a child, before I started elementary school, my extroverted tendencies were in full force. The idea of being surrounded by hundreds of people, brimming with energy in the name of educational philanthropy and physical activity, really excited my little four foot frame. I think I also liked to be in charge of things. Needless to say, I had patiently awaited the morning of the Fun Run. The day I would fulfill my young, extroverted fantasies of directing crowds of people, manning registration tables, and pinning paper numbers to strangers’ clothing. What a nutty kid!
It may sound silly, but I remember more vividly this punishment than any I have ever received.
I remember waking up early the morning of the race, hoping that my mom and dad had forgotten the events of the night before. But my nightmare had come true. Mom calmly reminded me that I could not come with her. I still wouldn’t accept it. I screamed and cried as she pulled the old Volvo station wagon out of the garage. I ran after the car and held on to the rear view mirror (no joke.) To no avail.
This is the day I learned that I could not always get my way. And that throwing a fit just made things worse. Boy did it hurt.
PS Whoever gets the hidden grad student joke in this post wins a prize!
Speaking of grad school, I just finished my first year! It was challenging on many levels, but God was infinitely gracious and compassionate. Hallelujah!
I was five years old and it was the night before the annual Vichy Elementary Fun Run. Big day. My mom had signed up to volunteer the next morning at the registration table, and I was going to join her, being a big-helper-girl and all. At least... that's what I thought.
The specifics of the situation are still a little murky to me. Apparently, I broke something. But not just "broke something" my mom reminds me. I maliciously and spitefully cast her cow-shaped, milk pitcher to the ground. The parents say I was angry about not getting my way. So I had a fit and broke that pitcher, as if showing them the strength of my emotion would change their minds. Guess what? It didn't.
Instead, the pronouncement came: "Caroline, you can't go with your mom to the Fun Run early tomorrow. You have to stay home."
Torture.
Even as a child, before I started elementary school, my extroverted tendencies were in full force. The idea of being surrounded by hundreds of people, brimming with energy in the name of educational philanthropy and physical activity, really excited my little four foot frame. I think I also liked to be in charge of things. Needless to say, I had patiently awaited the morning of the Fun Run. The day I would fulfill my young, extroverted fantasies of directing crowds of people, manning registration tables, and pinning paper numbers to strangers’ clothing. What a nutty kid!
It may sound silly, but I remember more vividly this punishment than any I have ever received.
I remember waking up early the morning of the race, hoping that my mom and dad had forgotten the events of the night before. But my nightmare had come true. Mom calmly reminded me that I could not come with her. I still wouldn’t accept it. I screamed and cried as she pulled the old Volvo station wagon out of the garage. I ran after the car and held on to the rear view mirror (no joke.) To no avail.
This is the day I learned that I could not always get my way. And that throwing a fit just made things worse. Boy did it hurt.
PS Whoever gets the hidden grad student joke in this post wins a prize!
Speaking of grad school, I just finished my first year! It was challenging on many levels, but God was infinitely gracious and compassionate. Hallelujah!
14 May 2009
More on Women!
Here are some articles relevant to my last post:
- On women in academia:
"How Babies Alter Careers for Academics"
- On women in the church:
"How the Church Can Fail Women"
- On women in academia:
"How Babies Alter Careers for Academics"
- On women in the church:
"How the Church Can Fail Women"
05 May 2009
What's a Woman to do?
I’ve been thinking a lot about my womanhood lately. (big surprise)
I feel like these thoughts fall under the larger question I’m exploring this year: who the heck am I?
More specifically, I ask myself, “what does it mean for me to be a woman?” Besides the basic anatomical differences and my remarkable capability to give birth (booyah!) - what does this mean about my identity?
Between graduate school, “Christian culture,” and my own brokenness I feel like I am being pulled in many different directions. I want above all to follow that still, small voice which has given me abundant life. But first I need to decipher the voice I know from the noise surrounding it.
Grad school tells me my womanhood is irrelevant. The doctoral process for history is still based on a centuries-old apprenticeship system which assumes a 19th century masculine identity. In other words, young budding scholars are expected to invest their whole selves in the discipline - scorning all human relationships and interactions at the pursuit of historical knowledge. (Because white professional men in the 19th century weren't expected to a. spend much time building family relationships b. show any emotion) - as you can see this ideal is problematic for both men and women.
One female professor of color told me that as a graduate student I would learn not just how to become a scholar and teacher, but how to talk, think and carry myself like an intellectual. Another told me that within the doctoral process one is “remade.” Still another woman scholar warned me as I started my first quarter that I “shouldn’t expect to have a life.” Even though these women were subjected to this ridiculous process (or probably even worse), they merely accept that it’s what you have to go through to become a professor.
Thus, the majority of the professors I encounter at UCLA are, or have been, divorced. And I bet you anything there children are really angsty and unhappy.
However, “Christian culture” certainly has something different to say about my womanhood. [Now, let me preface this by saying this does not speak for all Christians, rather its more a vocalization of a cultural/societal force I personally feel.] Much of this depends on how you interpret key Biblical passages (Ephesians 5, 1 Timothy 2). Now regardless of what these passages REALLY mean, and how God really intended male-female relationships to be, there is a fairly dominant Christian view that the woman needs to submit herself to the leadership of her husband. And regardless of the true definition of “submission” or “headship,” for many American Christian women this means that their ultimate goal should be to find a strong Christian leader husband. Now don’t get me wrong, I love strong Christian leader husbands. [I’d love to have one myself someday... wink.] But it worries me that so many Christian women aren’t attentive to what God’s call may be for their life, that they may miss opportunities to pursue God’s kingdom wholeheartedly because of convention.
More than anything, it makes me worry how much of this “Christian culture” is influencing me in the decisions I make about my future. As I consider whether I should leave my program early with a masters, I worry that I may choose that path not because I feel God is calling me to it, but because I don’t want to be more ambitious or successful than my future husband (... and he's only hypothetical!) Isn’t that sad? If God calls me to get a PhD, then I want to follow his call! Why would I listen to these other silly voices?
But I also don't want to disregard all human relationships at the expense of professional development - in fact, I'm pretty certain I would not survive mentally and spiritually in those circumstances.
So what's a woman to do?
[Note: I imagine that a man's experience would have both similarities and differences from what I've written below... I'd love to hear a masculine perspective sometime - or an alternative feminine one!]
I feel like these thoughts fall under the larger question I’m exploring this year: who the heck am I?
More specifically, I ask myself, “what does it mean for me to be a woman?” Besides the basic anatomical differences and my remarkable capability to give birth (booyah!) - what does this mean about my identity?
Between graduate school, “Christian culture,” and my own brokenness I feel like I am being pulled in many different directions. I want above all to follow that still, small voice which has given me abundant life. But first I need to decipher the voice I know from the noise surrounding it.
Grad school tells me my womanhood is irrelevant. The doctoral process for history is still based on a centuries-old apprenticeship system which assumes a 19th century masculine identity. In other words, young budding scholars are expected to invest their whole selves in the discipline - scorning all human relationships and interactions at the pursuit of historical knowledge. (Because white professional men in the 19th century weren't expected to a. spend much time building family relationships b. show any emotion) - as you can see this ideal is problematic for both men and women.
One female professor of color told me that as a graduate student I would learn not just how to become a scholar and teacher, but how to talk, think and carry myself like an intellectual. Another told me that within the doctoral process one is “remade.” Still another woman scholar warned me as I started my first quarter that I “shouldn’t expect to have a life.” Even though these women were subjected to this ridiculous process (or probably even worse), they merely accept that it’s what you have to go through to become a professor.
Thus, the majority of the professors I encounter at UCLA are, or have been, divorced. And I bet you anything there children are really angsty and unhappy.
However, “Christian culture” certainly has something different to say about my womanhood. [Now, let me preface this by saying this does not speak for all Christians, rather its more a vocalization of a cultural/societal force I personally feel.] Much of this depends on how you interpret key Biblical passages (Ephesians 5, 1 Timothy 2). Now regardless of what these passages REALLY mean, and how God really intended male-female relationships to be, there is a fairly dominant Christian view that the woman needs to submit herself to the leadership of her husband. And regardless of the true definition of “submission” or “headship,” for many American Christian women this means that their ultimate goal should be to find a strong Christian leader husband. Now don’t get me wrong, I love strong Christian leader husbands. [I’d love to have one myself someday... wink.] But it worries me that so many Christian women aren’t attentive to what God’s call may be for their life, that they may miss opportunities to pursue God’s kingdom wholeheartedly because of convention.
More than anything, it makes me worry how much of this “Christian culture” is influencing me in the decisions I make about my future. As I consider whether I should leave my program early with a masters, I worry that I may choose that path not because I feel God is calling me to it, but because I don’t want to be more ambitious or successful than my future husband (... and he's only hypothetical!) Isn’t that sad? If God calls me to get a PhD, then I want to follow his call! Why would I listen to these other silly voices?
But I also don't want to disregard all human relationships at the expense of professional development - in fact, I'm pretty certain I would not survive mentally and spiritually in those circumstances.
So what's a woman to do?
[Note: I imagine that a man's experience would have both similarities and differences from what I've written below... I'd love to hear a masculine perspective sometime - or an alternative feminine one!]
13 March 2009
Why I Love Riding the Bus
I’ve only really started taking advantage of public transportation here on the Westside this quarter. A few weeks ago my friend Amy, a seasoned bus rider, encouraged me to take the bus to Santa Monica Public library (another great public space and resource!) rather than pay for parking. Since then I have become hooked. I am grateful that I get to ride the efficient and user-friendly Santa Monica Big Blue Bus. Here are some reasons why I love it:
1. It’s cheap, efficient and safe. With the swipe of my BruinCard, I pay 25 cents for a ride to the beach, 3rd Street Promenade, the public library - just about anywhere in Westwood of Santa Monica. I rarely wait more than 10 minutes, and I have never felt unsafe even when riding alone at night.
2. I get to see and interact with people who aren’t doctoral students or professors. People of all races, classes, and ages take the bus to get to work, to shop, to attend a protest, to go to church or temple... It’s a beautiful and refreshing thing to be around men and women who I would not typically see in my grad school bubble. When I drive alone in my car from onramp to exit on the freeway, it’s so easy to lose sight of the neighborhoods and people surrounding me. Public transportation has become my antidote for the isolation and fragmentation inherent in the greater Los Angeles landscape.
3. Perhaps most importantly, the Big Blue Bus demolishes my stereotypes about the Westside. Each time I ride the bus I am amazed by the friendliness and goodwill of both the drivers and passengers. One driver a couple nights ago made a conscious effort to wish each rider individually a good night as they left the bus. Today a Santa Monica College student helped an elderly man figure out how to open the handicapped seat while the bus was moving. A Latino man gave his hand and arm, to a disabled white woman as she climbed aboard the bus guiding her toward a seat right next to him.
I’ll have to admit, I wasn’t completely psyched about leaving the easygoing neighborhoods of Eagle Rock, Pasadena, Glendale, and Highland Park for Westwood, Beverly Hills, Brentwood, and Santa Monica. All I could picture, and all I really saw for the first few months, were pretentious white executives in their fancy cars, cutting people off on Wilshire on their way to their high-rise office building. And while there is some truth to this, it is only a piece of the puzzle. As I become more acclimated to this side of town, I am learning to look for the "other side" of the Westside - whether it's the Mexican market where the janitors and gardeners of Westwood grab lunch, or the community car washes organized by the residents of the housing projects in Mar Vista.
Where I expected selfishness, entitlement and homogeneity I have seen selflessness, humility, and diversity. I am grateful that I have been proven wrong!
Thank you Santa Monica Blue Bus!
PS I feel like my new-found love for public transportation definitely pegs me as a “white person” as defined by the website Stuff White People Like - if you haven’t checked it out, you really should.
1. It’s cheap, efficient and safe. With the swipe of my BruinCard, I pay 25 cents for a ride to the beach, 3rd Street Promenade, the public library - just about anywhere in Westwood of Santa Monica. I rarely wait more than 10 minutes, and I have never felt unsafe even when riding alone at night.
2. I get to see and interact with people who aren’t doctoral students or professors. People of all races, classes, and ages take the bus to get to work, to shop, to attend a protest, to go to church or temple... It’s a beautiful and refreshing thing to be around men and women who I would not typically see in my grad school bubble. When I drive alone in my car from onramp to exit on the freeway, it’s so easy to lose sight of the neighborhoods and people surrounding me. Public transportation has become my antidote for the isolation and fragmentation inherent in the greater Los Angeles landscape.
3. Perhaps most importantly, the Big Blue Bus demolishes my stereotypes about the Westside. Each time I ride the bus I am amazed by the friendliness and goodwill of both the drivers and passengers. One driver a couple nights ago made a conscious effort to wish each rider individually a good night as they left the bus. Today a Santa Monica College student helped an elderly man figure out how to open the handicapped seat while the bus was moving. A Latino man gave his hand and arm, to a disabled white woman as she climbed aboard the bus guiding her toward a seat right next to him.
I’ll have to admit, I wasn’t completely psyched about leaving the easygoing neighborhoods of Eagle Rock, Pasadena, Glendale, and Highland Park for Westwood, Beverly Hills, Brentwood, and Santa Monica. All I could picture, and all I really saw for the first few months, were pretentious white executives in their fancy cars, cutting people off on Wilshire on their way to their high-rise office building. And while there is some truth to this, it is only a piece of the puzzle. As I become more acclimated to this side of town, I am learning to look for the "other side" of the Westside - whether it's the Mexican market where the janitors and gardeners of Westwood grab lunch, or the community car washes organized by the residents of the housing projects in Mar Vista.
Where I expected selfishness, entitlement and homogeneity I have seen selflessness, humility, and diversity. I am grateful that I have been proven wrong!
Thank you Santa Monica Blue Bus!
PS I feel like my new-found love for public transportation definitely pegs me as a “white person” as defined by the website Stuff White People Like - if you haven’t checked it out, you really should.
23 February 2009
"Where is God?"
Arturo lives in a tent on Skid Row. He avoids the missions because there are too many "locos" there. He keeps a big metal pipe by his side at night for protection. Just the other day he had to threaten someone who wanted to take his belongings. He was exhausted during our conversation - fear of early morning street sweeps, theft, or criminals keep the homeless from truly resting. Also like the other thousands of homeless men in Los Angeles, Arturo hungers for intimacy, paying for the companionship of women to ease the pangs of loneliness.
I was on coffee duty, passing out steaming styrofoam cups, doctoring them up with powdered non-dairy creamer and sugar, when I noticed someone was staring at me from across the sidewalk. He wasn’t staring in a creepy way, but in a "I want to talk to you" way so I walked over and started a conversation. He told me he had some questions: “I wonder...can you tell me... where is God?" I can see his face - it’s tired, discouraged, but earnest.
Putting on my Christian hat, I told him that God was right there with him, next to him, inside him, all around him. “God is here on Skid Row.” He shook his head, "No, no, no... Look around you. God isn't here." I did look around. If I lived on Skid Row, if I woke up every morning to heroin, urine-stained sidewalks, mental disability, litter, police harassment, would I be able to see God when I looked around me? That’s a difficult question. I've never even come close to poverty in my lifetime, much less homelessness, much less Skid Row. I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to say that my reaction might be pretty similar to Arturo’s: frustration, anger, and resentment towards God - I’d probably throw in some entitlement too.
Although I like to believe (and have even seen) that God is very present on Skid Row, I knew that my experience on 6th and Gladys was very different from Arturo’s. Maybe I’ve been reading too much Henri Nouwen, but I felt God wanted me to enter in, to displace myself in this man’s pain and suffering rather than give him a sermon on Christian faith before driving back to my cozy apartment and PhD program in Westwood.
He recounted quite candidly that other Christians had told him God was his friend, but from his experience, he couldn’t see God as anything but his enemy. After attending AA and NA meetings and cleaning up his life for a few years, he recognizes that there is still a struggle in his mind: “I feel like there’s a wall there.” He's still on Skid Row, without a job, without money, and lonely. He showed me a pin on his bag he got at an AA meeting with the serenity prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Arturo struggles with that first phrase - why does he have to accept the things that he can't change first? Why does he have to accept his life on Skid Row and trust that God is good? Unfortunately, I didn’t have a very clear answer for him.
I asked him if he ever told God how he felt, if he ever asked God why he was on Skid Row. He sounded very tired "I don't want to talk to God." Even when I offered to pray for him throughout the week, he asked that I do not use his name while talking to God.
I told Arturo that God loved him. He didn’t want him to be alone, depressed, and distant. That he longed to hear from Arturo, his beloved son. I said I'd be back next week to check up on how he's doing, and that I'd be praying for him.
But Arturo's tired, dejected face is still fixed on my mind.
I was on coffee duty, passing out steaming styrofoam cups, doctoring them up with powdered non-dairy creamer and sugar, when I noticed someone was staring at me from across the sidewalk. He wasn’t staring in a creepy way, but in a "I want to talk to you" way so I walked over and started a conversation. He told me he had some questions: “I wonder...can you tell me... where is God?" I can see his face - it’s tired, discouraged, but earnest.
Putting on my Christian hat, I told him that God was right there with him, next to him, inside him, all around him. “God is here on Skid Row.” He shook his head, "No, no, no... Look around you. God isn't here." I did look around. If I lived on Skid Row, if I woke up every morning to heroin, urine-stained sidewalks, mental disability, litter, police harassment, would I be able to see God when I looked around me? That’s a difficult question. I've never even come close to poverty in my lifetime, much less homelessness, much less Skid Row. I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to say that my reaction might be pretty similar to Arturo’s: frustration, anger, and resentment towards God - I’d probably throw in some entitlement too.
Although I like to believe (and have even seen) that God is very present on Skid Row, I knew that my experience on 6th and Gladys was very different from Arturo’s. Maybe I’ve been reading too much Henri Nouwen, but I felt God wanted me to enter in, to displace myself in this man’s pain and suffering rather than give him a sermon on Christian faith before driving back to my cozy apartment and PhD program in Westwood.
He recounted quite candidly that other Christians had told him God was his friend, but from his experience, he couldn’t see God as anything but his enemy. After attending AA and NA meetings and cleaning up his life for a few years, he recognizes that there is still a struggle in his mind: “I feel like there’s a wall there.” He's still on Skid Row, without a job, without money, and lonely. He showed me a pin on his bag he got at an AA meeting with the serenity prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Arturo struggles with that first phrase - why does he have to accept the things that he can't change first? Why does he have to accept his life on Skid Row and trust that God is good? Unfortunately, I didn’t have a very clear answer for him.
I asked him if he ever told God how he felt, if he ever asked God why he was on Skid Row. He sounded very tired "I don't want to talk to God." Even when I offered to pray for him throughout the week, he asked that I do not use his name while talking to God.
I told Arturo that God loved him. He didn’t want him to be alone, depressed, and distant. That he longed to hear from Arturo, his beloved son. I said I'd be back next week to check up on how he's doing, and that I'd be praying for him.
But Arturo's tired, dejected face is still fixed on my mind.
20 February 2009
Life without Facebook
So this past Sunday I decided I needed to do something about my unhealthy relationship with facebook. That's right. I'll admit it. I'm addicted. Therefore, I have resolved to only check my account on a weekly basis until Easter (I got a little head start on Lent.)
My break from facebook has given me time to reflect - well, "forced me to reflect" may be more honest. When I can't distract myself by checking my friends' statuses, learning how many mutual friends I have with a classmate, or investigating the love interest of a confidante - I am left with just myself. Not some imaginary social network I can just tap into when I am alone and too lazy to actually engage with real people. And when I am left alone - without wall posts to answer, friend requests to confirm, events to respond to - I can see more clearly the empty places in my life. I can see that I'm probably more lonely than I thought.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not a hermit here at UCLA. I have been blessed by close friends who know me well and love me regardless; likewise I am often meeting new and interesting people on this big university campus; I even find myself striking up random conversations in coffee shops, the library, the grocery store. So it's not necessarily that I have a shortage of human beings in my life.
I guess it's a different kind of lonely. A different kind of longing. I desire deeper intimacy and communion with people. I long for the challenge, the support, the constancy of sharing life with others on a day-to-day basis. I am eager for the companionship and partnership that comes when we commit our lives to the same goal. I want more.
My mom thinks I'm "ready for a life partner."
Who knows? Well, God does I guess. So that helps. G.K. Chesterton said that following Jesus is like being homesick at home. We are ever-yearning for something greater, something deeper, something more intimate. Will I experience only a taste of that in this life?
The funny thing is this all came about because I'm no longer on facebook. And by funny I mean embarrassing. Who knew that a “social networking site” could have such power over me? That's really pretty silly.
My break from facebook has given me time to reflect - well, "forced me to reflect" may be more honest. When I can't distract myself by checking my friends' statuses, learning how many mutual friends I have with a classmate, or investigating the love interest of a confidante - I am left with just myself. Not some imaginary social network I can just tap into when I am alone and too lazy to actually engage with real people. And when I am left alone - without wall posts to answer, friend requests to confirm, events to respond to - I can see more clearly the empty places in my life. I can see that I'm probably more lonely than I thought.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not a hermit here at UCLA. I have been blessed by close friends who know me well and love me regardless; likewise I am often meeting new and interesting people on this big university campus; I even find myself striking up random conversations in coffee shops, the library, the grocery store. So it's not necessarily that I have a shortage of human beings in my life.
I guess it's a different kind of lonely. A different kind of longing. I desire deeper intimacy and communion with people. I long for the challenge, the support, the constancy of sharing life with others on a day-to-day basis. I am eager for the companionship and partnership that comes when we commit our lives to the same goal. I want more.
My mom thinks I'm "ready for a life partner."
Who knows? Well, God does I guess. So that helps. G.K. Chesterton said that following Jesus is like being homesick at home. We are ever-yearning for something greater, something deeper, something more intimate. Will I experience only a taste of that in this life?
The funny thing is this all came about because I'm no longer on facebook. And by funny I mean embarrassing. Who knew that a “social networking site” could have such power over me? That's really pretty silly.
13 February 2009
Love Deeply
For some of us, Valentine's Day is a special day to spend with people we care about, for others of us it is a day of pain and loneliness. I'm grateful, once again, for the words of Henri Nouwen. He acknowledges that human love is often accompanied by human suffering. But this doesn't have to be the end of our story. This passage is dedicated to anyone out there who's experienced heartache (all of us I hope):
Henri Nouwen "Love Deeply"
"Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply.
You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love ever more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds.
The more you have loved and have allowed yourself to suffer because of your love, the more you will be able to let your heart grow wider and deeper. When your love is truly giving and receiving, those whom you love will not leave your heart even when they depart from you. They will become part of your self and thus gradually build a community within you.
Those you have deeply loved become part of you. The longer you live, there will always be more people to be loved by you and to become part of your inner community. The wider your inner community becomes, the more easily you will recognize your own brothers and sisters in the strangers around you. Those who are alive within you will recognize those who are alive around you. The wider the community of your heart, the wider the community around you. Thus the pain of rejection, absence, and death can become fruitful. Yes, as you love deeply the ground of your heart will be broken more and more, but you will rejoice in the abundance of the fruit it will bear."
Henri Nouwen "Love Deeply"
"Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply.
You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love ever more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds.
The more you have loved and have allowed yourself to suffer because of your love, the more you will be able to let your heart grow wider and deeper. When your love is truly giving and receiving, those whom you love will not leave your heart even when they depart from you. They will become part of your self and thus gradually build a community within you.
Those you have deeply loved become part of you. The longer you live, there will always be more people to be loved by you and to become part of your inner community. The wider your inner community becomes, the more easily you will recognize your own brothers and sisters in the strangers around you. Those who are alive within you will recognize those who are alive around you. The wider the community of your heart, the wider the community around you. Thus the pain of rejection, absence, and death can become fruitful. Yes, as you love deeply the ground of your heart will be broken more and more, but you will rejoice in the abundance of the fruit it will bear."
24 December 2008
When God came to Earth
Today I want to celebrate the day God came to Earth.
The day he decided he loved us too much to see us mucking everything up. He loved us too much to watch us marginalize the poor and the social misfit. He loved us too much to watch us build up our financial, intellectual, and social resources as if they actually mattered. He loved us too much to watch neverending cycles of abuse plague our families. He loved us too much to see us continue to hate those who looked, thought, or acted differently from us. He loved us too much to see us ruining relationships with one another out of self-centeredness. He loved us too much to allow us to be controlled by guilt and shame when we screwed things up.
That day was a little over 2,000 years ago in a backward, Middle Eastern province under Roman occupation.
That day is also today. In Rwanda. In Mumbai. In Juarez. On Skid Row. In Westwood. In Napa. Praise God that he keeps entering into our lives each day. In the brokenness, pain, and suffering throughout the world and throughout all time - God is present.
The day he decided he loved us too much to see us mucking everything up. He loved us too much to watch us marginalize the poor and the social misfit. He loved us too much to watch us build up our financial, intellectual, and social resources as if they actually mattered. He loved us too much to watch neverending cycles of abuse plague our families. He loved us too much to see us continue to hate those who looked, thought, or acted differently from us. He loved us too much to see us ruining relationships with one another out of self-centeredness. He loved us too much to allow us to be controlled by guilt and shame when we screwed things up.
That day was a little over 2,000 years ago in a backward, Middle Eastern province under Roman occupation.
That day is also today. In Rwanda. In Mumbai. In Juarez. On Skid Row. In Westwood. In Napa. Praise God that he keeps entering into our lives each day. In the brokenness, pain, and suffering throughout the world and throughout all time - God is present.
"To us who cry out from the depth of our brokenness for a hand that will touch us, an arm that can embrace us, lips that will kiss us, a word that speaks to us here and now, and a heart that is not afraid of our fears and tremblings; to us, who feel our own pain as no other human being feels it, has felt it, or ever will feel it, and who are always waiting for someone who dares to come close - to us a man has come who could truly say 'I am with you.'" (Henri Nouwen, Compassion 23)And what should our response be to this God who chose to be displaced on this earth, who intentionally entered into the suffering of the world, who asked to be called Emmanuel or "God-with-us"? Paul gives us his thoughts: Go and do likewise.
Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love... then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love... Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves ... In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude Christ Jesus had: Who did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death-- even death on a cross! (Philippians 2:1-8)If Jesus who is God humbled himself to the point of becoming human, experiencing pain and death, just so we would know how much he loves us, how much so should we also enter in to places of suffering and discomfort and show those who hurt that God has not forgotten them.
22 December 2008
Finding my Self
I'm reading Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard right now and feeling inspired to write again, especially on the issues of self-centeredness vs. selflessness. This post follows up on one I wrote a while ago on Compassion by Henri Nouwen. These thoughts are still in formulation, so please forgive any lack of clarity or focus :)
Here's a good quote by Willard which first got me thinking:
"Egotism is pathological self-obsession, a reaction to anxiety about whether one really does count. It is a form of acute self-consciousness and can be prevented and healed only by the experience of being adequately loved. It is, indeed, a desperate response to frustration of the need we all have to count for something, to be held irreplaceable, without price." (15) [emphasis mine]
This thought seems so counterintuitive to me. Usually if someone is so exceedingly self-centered my reactionary desire is to show them that they really aren't all that and a bag of potato chips. Even when dealing with my own selfishness - whether I'm attempting to combat or prevent it - my typical response is that I need to accept that it's not "all about me." But instead, Willard says that I need to realize, and what all those crazy egomaniacs out there need to realize, is how loved, how significant, how important, how valued we all are - that we really are something special. The truth is so refreshing, that we are loved sufficiently, that such fulfillment is not beyond our grasp.
And Willard says that this desire to have meaning, to be significant, in itself is not self-centered. In fact, it is actually outward:
"Unlike egotism, the drive to significance is a simple extension of the creative impulse of God that gave us being. It is not filtered through self-consciousness any more than is our lunge to catch a package falling from someone's hand. It is outwardly directed to the good to be done. We were built to count, as water is made to run downhill. We are placed in a specific context to count in ways no one else does. That is our destiny." (15)
In Compassion, Henri Nouwen seemed to say that to actually have compassion on other people, to really understand the suffering of those who hurt, we need to empty ourselves of the desire for social acceptance. At first I was having a hard time reconciling the arguments of these two authors, but after some thought I can see that they aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. To really have compassion, to mourn with those who mourn, we must let go of this struggle to prove ourselves to others. And perhaps Willard is uncovering that the key to this "letting go" is in the realization that we are already loved, accepted, valued, before we could even prove ourselves.
However, Willard extends this further to say that this desire for significance, to do something good for the world, is how God created us to be.
"Our hunger for significance is a signal of who we are and why we are here, and it also is the basis of humanity's enduring response to Jesus. For he always takes individual human beings as seriously as their shredded dignity demands and he has the resources to carry through with his high estimate of them." (15)
It's so good to know that God has greater purposes for us - he sees us as having greater significance than we could even imagine for ourselves. Think about it: since we only can see our lives as they gradually unfold, we often miss the bigger picture, how we are impacting people and the world. But God sees the whole act. He sees how our work in the past is effecting others now, and how what we do now will continue to bring about meaningful change in the future.
Amidst the craziness and uncertainties of life, it's nice to know that we are highly regarded by an all-loving, all-knowing higher power.
Here's a good quote by Willard which first got me thinking:
"Egotism is pathological self-obsession, a reaction to anxiety about whether one really does count. It is a form of acute self-consciousness and can be prevented and healed only by the experience of being adequately loved. It is, indeed, a desperate response to frustration of the need we all have to count for something, to be held irreplaceable, without price." (15) [emphasis mine]
This thought seems so counterintuitive to me. Usually if someone is so exceedingly self-centered my reactionary desire is to show them that they really aren't all that and a bag of potato chips. Even when dealing with my own selfishness - whether I'm attempting to combat or prevent it - my typical response is that I need to accept that it's not "all about me." But instead, Willard says that I need to realize, and what all those crazy egomaniacs out there need to realize, is how loved, how significant, how important, how valued we all are - that we really are something special. The truth is so refreshing, that we are loved sufficiently, that such fulfillment is not beyond our grasp.
And Willard says that this desire to have meaning, to be significant, in itself is not self-centered. In fact, it is actually outward:
"Unlike egotism, the drive to significance is a simple extension of the creative impulse of God that gave us being. It is not filtered through self-consciousness any more than is our lunge to catch a package falling from someone's hand. It is outwardly directed to the good to be done. We were built to count, as water is made to run downhill. We are placed in a specific context to count in ways no one else does. That is our destiny." (15)
In Compassion, Henri Nouwen seemed to say that to actually have compassion on other people, to really understand the suffering of those who hurt, we need to empty ourselves of the desire for social acceptance. At first I was having a hard time reconciling the arguments of these two authors, but after some thought I can see that they aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. To really have compassion, to mourn with those who mourn, we must let go of this struggle to prove ourselves to others. And perhaps Willard is uncovering that the key to this "letting go" is in the realization that we are already loved, accepted, valued, before we could even prove ourselves.
However, Willard extends this further to say that this desire for significance, to do something good for the world, is how God created us to be.
"Our hunger for significance is a signal of who we are and why we are here, and it also is the basis of humanity's enduring response to Jesus. For he always takes individual human beings as seriously as their shredded dignity demands and he has the resources to carry through with his high estimate of them." (15)
It's so good to know that God has greater purposes for us - he sees us as having greater significance than we could even imagine for ourselves. Think about it: since we only can see our lives as they gradually unfold, we often miss the bigger picture, how we are impacting people and the world. But God sees the whole act. He sees how our work in the past is effecting others now, and how what we do now will continue to bring about meaningful change in the future.
Amidst the craziness and uncertainties of life, it's nice to know that we are highly regarded by an all-loving, all-knowing higher power.
28 October 2008
God on Skid Row
Sometimes we hear from God in the least expected places. This Sunday I felt God's encouragement and love through two men on Skid Row. But then again, considering God's identification with the poor, Skid Row probably shouldn't be one of the "least expected places" to hear from God...
First was Frank, a regular at our outreach. After we chatted for a bit, he asked me what I do outside of volunteering at Skid Row on Sundays and I explained my graduate program in history. I'm seeing that I've been thinking/speaking pretty negatively about my experience at UCLA, although it actually hasn't been that bad. I guess I feel like I need to justify why I'm spending five years back in school, why I'm becoming increasingly elite (as if being an upper middle class, college-educated white woman isn't enough!), and probably more to the point, why I'm not doing more directly to help/advocate for/bring justice to people like Frank on Skid Row. This paired with the fears I've had in class - feelings of inadequacy, that I shouldn't be in grad school - make me speak about grad school with a sense of hesitation. Frank noticed this and basically told me, gently, to stop complaining and take advantage of this opportunity given to me - and stop worrying about what my profs and other students think of me. He said, "Don't doubt yourself! You can't let anyone tell you that you're not somebody." This is where God has me for now - I need to own it! Preach it Frank.
As we were putting away the tables and passing out the last of the food I started talking for a little bit with another regular, Chris. I have no clue how we got onto this topic, but he started telling me how beautiful I was (side note: I didn't feel like it was in a creepy or inappropriate way - there aren't very many young, fresh-faced women on Skid Row so its not unusual for us ladies to get this reaction.) He said "Caroline, you are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are a beautiful creation of God." I changed the subject and asked to hear more about his week - but his words stuck with me for some reason. Later as I was reflecting on my time at Skid Row, I felt like God was telling me "Caroline, that is how I see you." But not because of my physical appearance or my personality, but I am beautiful simply because I am his daughter. Sitting in this notion, that his love transcends and surpasses any affirmation or appreciation I could ever receive from any human, has been amazing. I pray that you (whoever is reading this) also feel that deep love and understand how "fearfully and wonderfully" you have been crafted. At church this Sunday we read these words from 1 John "How great is the love the Father has lavished on is, that we should be called his sons and daughters! And that is what we are!"
First was Frank, a regular at our outreach. After we chatted for a bit, he asked me what I do outside of volunteering at Skid Row on Sundays and I explained my graduate program in history. I'm seeing that I've been thinking/speaking pretty negatively about my experience at UCLA, although it actually hasn't been that bad. I guess I feel like I need to justify why I'm spending five years back in school, why I'm becoming increasingly elite (as if being an upper middle class, college-educated white woman isn't enough!), and probably more to the point, why I'm not doing more directly to help/advocate for/bring justice to people like Frank on Skid Row. This paired with the fears I've had in class - feelings of inadequacy, that I shouldn't be in grad school - make me speak about grad school with a sense of hesitation. Frank noticed this and basically told me, gently, to stop complaining and take advantage of this opportunity given to me - and stop worrying about what my profs and other students think of me. He said, "Don't doubt yourself! You can't let anyone tell you that you're not somebody." This is where God has me for now - I need to own it! Preach it Frank.
As we were putting away the tables and passing out the last of the food I started talking for a little bit with another regular, Chris. I have no clue how we got onto this topic, but he started telling me how beautiful I was (side note: I didn't feel like it was in a creepy or inappropriate way - there aren't very many young, fresh-faced women on Skid Row so its not unusual for us ladies to get this reaction.) He said "Caroline, you are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are a beautiful creation of God." I changed the subject and asked to hear more about his week - but his words stuck with me for some reason. Later as I was reflecting on my time at Skid Row, I felt like God was telling me "Caroline, that is how I see you." But not because of my physical appearance or my personality, but I am beautiful simply because I am his daughter. Sitting in this notion, that his love transcends and surpasses any affirmation or appreciation I could ever receive from any human, has been amazing. I pray that you (whoever is reading this) also feel that deep love and understand how "fearfully and wonderfully" you have been crafted. At church this Sunday we read these words from 1 John "How great is the love the Father has lavished on is, that we should be called his sons and daughters! And that is what we are!"
10 October 2008
Listening
I want to become a better listener. Today I was reminded that listening well is an incredibly powerful and meaningful discipline. This afternoon, as I began to make my never-ending reading list for the weekend, my mom called. Not too long before this I had given her an update on my week. But she called back a few minutes later, asking me to tell her more about my US History course. She could tell that I was a bit worried.
Okay, worried is an understatement. I typically consider myself a strong woman. I usually feel grounded in who I am, and who God created me to me. But this class messes me up. I sit there in our discussions and wonder who the heck let me into grad school (and what the freak is a "meta-narrative"??) I can physically feel the fear creeping in on me. This ridiculous urge to prove myself to my classmates and professors paralyzes me.
Yeah. Grad school is crazy. But God is good in helping me deal with all these issues and see where my real value lies. And that's a whole 'nother blog post and not the point of this story.
I'm talking about listening. And that's what my mom did. She asked for me to explain more why I felt this way. I did. She said she'd be praying for me. It was as simple as that.
But if it's so easy, why do we have such a hard time doing it? Henri Nouwen in Compassion lays the smack down on my soul, once again:
"Paying attention to our fellow human beings is far from easy. We tend to be so insecure about our self-worth and so much in need of affirmation that it is very hard not to ask for attention ourselves. Before we are fully aware of it, we are speaking about ourselves, referring to our own experiences, telling our stories, or turning the subject of conversation toward our own territory." (81)
Dude, if you don't act this way around people, let's talk. I want you to disciple me! Because this process of "self-emptying" is so counterintuitive, so radically opposed to my current behavior. It must be from Jesus.
And the benefits of listening, of this "moving away from the center of attention and inviting others into that space" are immense. As Nouwen writes,
"From experience we know how healing such an invitation can be. When someone listens to us with real concentration and expresses sincere care for our struggles and our pains, we feel that something very deep is happening to us. Slowly, fears melt away, tensions dissolve, anxieties retreat, and we discover that we carry within us something we can trust and offer as a gift to others. The simple experience of being valuable and important to someone else has tremendous recreative power." (81)
This self-emptying is not about shaming or mistreating ourselves - rather its about recognizing and helping others to recognize the innate value within THEM.
Wow. It's really not all about me.
25 September 2008
Where is the home for the angry?
Wow. I'm really in the writing mood. We'll see how long this lasts once I start writing papers for school again. But for now I guess I have a lot to say :)
Anyway, I have many roles at this shelter - they are constantly in need of another set of hands, another gentle voice (haha) to answer the phone. One of the most challenging tasks for me has been conducting telephone interviews with women who are in need of housing. And this week's interviews were particularly difficult.
I had to turn down two women in a row because they had anger problems. Since this shelter offers housing, education, food, counseling, and opportunities for spiritual growth at no cost to the residents, it naturally receives many calls each week from women in need. There are enough applicants without anger problems that the staff will quickly reject one if they see even the hint of an "attitude."
But I can see why these two women were angry. Both had been abandoned by their boyfriends, fathers, and most male figures in their lives; they had grown up in poverty and likely experienced racism both overtly and indirectly. All of the sudden they find themselves pregnant and responsible for another life without any support from family or the father of the baby; oftentimes they fought parents who had encouraged them to get an abortion. After jumping around from a friend's house, to a run-down motel, to a homeless shelter, to the streets they are pretty frustrated, desperate for a safe, nurturing home for their child. Not to mention all the crazy hormonal things that go on for women when they're pregnant.
No wonder these women were so angry at me when I told them that the program wouldn't be a good fit for them. No wonder they demanded to know why. No wonder they became even more elated when I explained to them that their self-proclaimed anger problem would not do well in our intrusive group setting. One woman cried "well, don't you guys have counseling or something?" Yes, of course we do. And she could probably benefit from it - maybe even more than some of the women we are accepting in the program. But I didn't tell her that. I told her that that didn't matter anymore, she had already eliminated herself from the pool of applicants. I asked her if I could give her a referral to another maternity shelter.
Of course, we all knew that no other maternity shelter would take her for the same reasons we wouldn't. So I don't know if she will ever have the opportunity for counseling to work through her anger. I don't know if she will find a safe place to have her baby. I don't know how her baby could grow to be a healthy adult, who can learn to love him/herself and care for others.
We need something more.
Compassion
This morning I woke up early and drove to the beach, just north of Will Rogers. The fog was still resting on the surface of the blue-gray water, as I watched a sea lion bob across the shore. I jumped into the chilly water and let the cold soak into my skin.
I'm re-reading the book Compassion by Henri Nouwen and, once again, blown away by the intense and challenging call of Jesus as explained by Nouwen.
It seems that in today's culture we are constantly trying to prove to one another and to ourselves that we are valuable - that we are worthy, interesting, important, intelligent, funny, precious, beautiful, lovable. I find myself doing this all the time: in my interactions with my professors, when I meet new people, when I justify my actions and beliefs, when I update my facebook profile. I am fighting to prove that I am an interesting person, that I am unique, that you should want to get to know me.
Henri Nouwen, who left his professorship at Yale Divinity to live among the mentally disabled, reminds us:
"As long as our primary concern in life is to be interesting and thus worthy of special attention, compassion cannot manifest itself" (67).
This yearning for social acceptance (or recognition) gives us the sense that we have control over our lives, that everything improper and uncomfortable "can be kept outside the walls of our self-created fortress" (63). But from within this controlled atmosphere, how can we have compassion on those who are suffering? How can we realize solidarity with someone's pains when we are so focused on maintaining our own comfort?
The Gospels call us to a life of voluntary displacement - living intentionally in places of discomfort. Not because God wants us to suffer. Not because we want to be all non-comformist and "stick it to the man." But because Jesus lived in compassion with (translated literally from the Latin "suffering with") those in pain. It is only when we step outside ourselves, beyond our comfort zones, can we truly experience and express God's compassion.
Nouwen writes that "in voluntary displacement, we cast off the illusion of 'having it together' and thus begin to experience our true condition, which is that we, like everyone else, are pilgrims on the way, sinners in need of grace" (64).
So now I'm wondering, what does this mean for me and my life right now as a UCLA grad student. As Nouwen posits, this doesn't mean that we all need to give up our jobs and families and live among the poor, but rather ask ourselves "How can I come to understand and experience God's caring actions in the concrete situation in which I find myself?" (72)
Where do I feel displaced, alone, abandoned, out-of-touch?
How is God calling me into these places, and how do I experience his love more deeply there?
This passage is very challenging to me...
01 July 2007
God
A voice says "Cry out."
And I said, "What shall I cry?"
"All men are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
because the breath of the Lord blows on them.
Surely the people are grass.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
but the word of our God stands forever...
He tends his flock like a shepherd;
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young."
I think this is such a beautiful image. Isaiah paints this grand picture of God as so large and powerful and majestic - I love the image of us being grass which eventually withers and is blown away by God (yikes! its kind of frightening!) However, at the same time, Isaiah gives another description of God as a gentle shepherd, tenderly caring for his flock, carrying them close to his heart.
Can you imagine? Regardless of what you believe about God or religion, I think that we all have some sort of mysterious longing for a God like this - who is bigger than all our problems (all the world's problems), and yet is gentle enough to hold us.
And I said, "What shall I cry?"
"All men are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
because the breath of the Lord blows on them.
Surely the people are grass.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
but the word of our God stands forever...
He tends his flock like a shepherd;
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young."
I think this is such a beautiful image. Isaiah paints this grand picture of God as so large and powerful and majestic - I love the image of us being grass which eventually withers and is blown away by God (yikes! its kind of frightening!) However, at the same time, Isaiah gives another description of God as a gentle shepherd, tenderly caring for his flock, carrying them close to his heart.
Can you imagine? Regardless of what you believe about God or religion, I think that we all have some sort of mysterious longing for a God like this - who is bigger than all our problems (all the world's problems), and yet is gentle enough to hold us.
27 June 2007
Blog Redefined
I've decided I want to become a blogger. I like the idea of having a space where I can write my thoughts on life, or intelligent commentary on current events, or tell funny stories that make everyone wish they were my friend (mostly that last one).
Possible problems:
1. This means I have to actually come up with interesting pieces that people would actually want to read - I think in some ways I've inherited the Bunnell family super power to bore people to death, which could makes things difficult.
2. For some reason, I set my blog site to have Italian language settings, meaning I only have a vague understanding of what I'm clicking. But actually this makes blogging more exciting. For now, the Italian is staying.
3. This site was originally used for my semester abroad, so it still has all these vestiges from Rome, like the title and the quote, and even the template is kind of European-themed. Those will have to go.
4. I'm now realizing that I may have set the bar too high for this blog already. Rather than writing "intelligent commentary" or waxing poetically, I'll probably just have a bunch of shout-outs to friends and the results from my latest internet quiz (according to the Animology quiz I'm an Ocre and Gray Dolphin, my soul mate is the Bronze Goat, and I hate the Peach Pig.)
Ok. All problems aside, I do want to give this a try. For now I will continue to get this baby fired up for its magnificent release into the world of blogs.
Possible problems:
1. This means I have to actually come up with interesting pieces that people would actually want to read - I think in some ways I've inherited the Bunnell family super power to bore people to death, which could makes things difficult.
2. For some reason, I set my blog site to have Italian language settings, meaning I only have a vague understanding of what I'm clicking. But actually this makes blogging more exciting. For now, the Italian is staying.
3. This site was originally used for my semester abroad, so it still has all these vestiges from Rome, like the title and the quote, and even the template is kind of European-themed. Those will have to go.
4. I'm now realizing that I may have set the bar too high for this blog already. Rather than writing "intelligent commentary" or waxing poetically, I'll probably just have a bunch of shout-outs to friends and the results from my latest internet quiz (according to the Animology quiz I'm an Ocre and Gray Dolphin, my soul mate is the Bronze Goat, and I hate the Peach Pig.)
Ok. All problems aside, I do want to give this a try. For now I will continue to get this baby fired up for its magnificent release into the world of blogs.
07 December 2006
Venezia baby!
04 December 2006
L'ultima settimana!
Believe it or not, I'm nearly done with my semester in Rome. Dio mio!
The last couple weeks have been particularly busy.
Now I'm swimming in final papers, exams, and projects, but hoping that I will find some time to say a proper goodbye to my favorite city EVER!
(BTW this post is pretty lacking in the grammar and coherency departments due to my lack of free time)
Anyway, the party officially started November 25 when the parentals arrived in our fair city Roma. Here's a photo of them looking especially autumnal on Ponte Palatino over the Tiber River. In the background to the right is the Aventine Hill, where my campus is and their hotel was.
We, of course, did huge amounts of touring. But it was really wonderful to spend time with other people who really appreciate the history and art of Rome - plus my parents are pretty fab if you haven't had the pleasure.
Below is an awkward picture of me in front of my internship site: La Biblioteca Corsiniana dell'Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei - a pretty big name for which I perfected the art of pretending I was busy and competent in Italian.
This is the candy stand at the Christmas market in Piazza Navonna. Ah, to be young again!
Lights of the Christmas market behind the Piazza Navonna fountain
St. Peter's and the Tiber River all lit up
This past Saturday night, a group of friends and I went to our first Italian soccer game. Wow. Those Italians don't mess around with their calcio (that's soccer for all you non-Italians.)
Below are the fans presenting their banners and singing the anthem of the Roma team, pretty inspirational.
Celebratory flares were all over the stadium making it smokey for pretty much the whole game. Yay fire hazards!
We won! Which was really good since there was already a unit of armed guards between us and the opponents since they charged at us after making the first goal.
One other cool thing I did this past weekend was go to the HUGE and I really mean GINORMOUS flea market at Porta Portese in Rome. Seriously, this place has everything you could ever want (and more) for sketchily low prices. So I had a fun time walking around with my friend Maggie, while she took some pretty photos of the busy, crowded scene... until someone reached into her pocket and stole her camera! I know, its horrible! And the worst part was I essentially saw it happen, but it was all too fast for me to realize that someone had actually stolen her camera until like 2 seconds afterwards, and by then whoever did it was successively hidden in the crowd. The best part was an Italian lady consoled Maggie later saying "Don't worry! Just go to Porta Portese next week and you can buy it back!"
This week was my last tutoring session with Francesca. I learned with her that teaching (and learning) English is ridiculously difficult - seriously, there are way too many irregularities and inconsistencies. I'm so grateful I learned English as my first language. But we did have fun. Here's a silly picture of us.
While working on my Italian project I noticed this fantastic sunset. Mi mancherai Roma.
The last couple weeks have been particularly busy.
Now I'm swimming in final papers, exams, and projects, but hoping that I will find some time to say a proper goodbye to my favorite city EVER!
(BTW this post is pretty lacking in the grammar and coherency departments due to my lack of free time)
Anyway, the party officially started November 25 when the parentals arrived in our fair city Roma. Here's a photo of them looking especially autumnal on Ponte Palatino over the Tiber River. In the background to the right is the Aventine Hill, where my campus is and their hotel was.
We, of course, did huge amounts of touring. But it was really wonderful to spend time with other people who really appreciate the history and art of Rome - plus my parents are pretty fab if you haven't had the pleasure.
Below is an awkward picture of me in front of my internship site: La Biblioteca Corsiniana dell'Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei - a pretty big name for which I perfected the art of pretending I was busy and competent in Italian.
This is the candy stand at the Christmas market in Piazza Navonna. Ah, to be young again!
Lights of the Christmas market behind the Piazza Navonna fountain
St. Peter's and the Tiber River all lit up
This past Saturday night, a group of friends and I went to our first Italian soccer game. Wow. Those Italians don't mess around with their calcio (that's soccer for all you non-Italians.)
Below are the fans presenting their banners and singing the anthem of the Roma team, pretty inspirational.
Celebratory flares were all over the stadium making it smokey for pretty much the whole game. Yay fire hazards!
We won! Which was really good since there was already a unit of armed guards between us and the opponents since they charged at us after making the first goal.
One other cool thing I did this past weekend was go to the HUGE and I really mean GINORMOUS flea market at Porta Portese in Rome. Seriously, this place has everything you could ever want (and more) for sketchily low prices. So I had a fun time walking around with my friend Maggie, while she took some pretty photos of the busy, crowded scene... until someone reached into her pocket and stole her camera! I know, its horrible! And the worst part was I essentially saw it happen, but it was all too fast for me to realize that someone had actually stolen her camera until like 2 seconds afterwards, and by then whoever did it was successively hidden in the crowd. The best part was an Italian lady consoled Maggie later saying "Don't worry! Just go to Porta Portese next week and you can buy it back!"
This week was my last tutoring session with Francesca. I learned with her that teaching (and learning) English is ridiculously difficult - seriously, there are way too many irregularities and inconsistencies. I'm so grateful I learned English as my first language. But we did have fun. Here's a silly picture of us.
While working on my Italian project I noticed this fantastic sunset. Mi mancherai Roma.
14 November 2006
Rome Resurrected!
Note: I just got back from Venice (will post soon!), and have been meaning to post this thing about Rome for a while... so slightly late, but oh so worth the wait.
Anyway, I have been quite busy! For the most part, a good kind of busy.
The whole "study abroad" thing is certainly an experience. Strangely enough, I think I'm learning a lot just by being in a program with East Coast prep school kids. Sometimes I feel like the California culture is a lot more similar to the Italian than it is to the East Coast...
But for the most part, I'm trying to get in there and experience the Italian culture. So things I have been up to:
- classes: I actually spend a lot of time in these (15 hours a week!) - but that's alright because for 12 of those hours I am led by a native Roman with a pHD on walking tours to the city's churches, ruins, museums, archaeological sites... mmm, its beautiful!
-internship! I'm still working at the library for the Accademia dei Lincei, doing very basic office work. Its actually kind of frustrating because I'm the only non-Italian there, so my language abilities, and thus social and intellectual abilities are pretty low. Languages are tough. I feel like I can communicate fairly well, but there's no way I can jump into their conversations, or even answer their questions without asking them to speak slower, or what a certain word means. Its rough but one of those things that I'm sure I'll appreciate when I am done.
- Also a couple weeks ago I started tutoring Francesca, a 9 year old Italian girl in English! This is really good for my Italian too - but a lot more fun! She is so cute, and I really enjoy the challenge of trying to make lessons interesting. We do lots of singing, game playing, and drawing - she thinks I'm wonderful, what more do I need in the world?
-Then, of course, the independent adventures throughout Rome must continue... some photos from a few of these below. Unfortunately though, research papers and approaching final projects have made these times less frequent :(
Capitoline Hill
Appian Way - I took a day trip here, 30 min outside the city center. For an ancient road it was pretty scary to walk down, as you can see by the narrow roadway, lack of sidewalk, zooming cars, and high walls surrounding. This only further proves that Caroline likes to live on the edge.
Sunset over the Jewish Ghetto (where the word "ghetto" originated - now its not a ghetto in the typical American sense of the term) - the squarish tower on the left side is the local synagogue.
Catacombs of S. Sebastiano, S. Callisto, and S. Domitilla were along the Appian Way. I went to the catacombs of S. Callisto.
I went to a free sacred choral music concert in the church of S. Igazio. This is the church of the founder of the Jesuit order, St. Ignatius. It is quite ornate!
Forum at night
Renaissance Tempietto designed by Brancacci. This is up on this beautiful hill called Gianicolo on the West side of town.
In South Rome, I visited some of the sites nearby. This is the pyramid of Cestius Gaius during the reign of Caesar Augustus when there was what historians call "Egyptomania" in Rome. Next door is part of the Roman walls created toward the decline of the Empire to keep out those darn barbarians!
Sunset over Via del Corso
Pantheon
The Protestant cemetery is nearby also, and has a number of famous Romantic poets, writers, and composers. Here is one of my favorites: Percy Bysshe Shelley.
And I finally gave in and bought one of those obnoxious Euro puffy jackets with fur... which I love!!! I wear it around in my room when I'm doing homework, or out on the town, or going to class! It works for all occasions!
Anyway, in conclusion: I really love Rome. A lot.
Of course there are things and people I miss about home, California, Oxy, America, but I'm trying my best to" live in the moment" and appreciate this ridiculously amazingly fantastic opportunity I have to study in Rome.
A dopo!
Anyway, I have been quite busy! For the most part, a good kind of busy.
The whole "study abroad" thing is certainly an experience. Strangely enough, I think I'm learning a lot just by being in a program with East Coast prep school kids. Sometimes I feel like the California culture is a lot more similar to the Italian than it is to the East Coast...
But for the most part, I'm trying to get in there and experience the Italian culture. So things I have been up to:
- classes: I actually spend a lot of time in these (15 hours a week!) - but that's alright because for 12 of those hours I am led by a native Roman with a pHD on walking tours to the city's churches, ruins, museums, archaeological sites... mmm, its beautiful!
-internship! I'm still working at the library for the Accademia dei Lincei, doing very basic office work. Its actually kind of frustrating because I'm the only non-Italian there, so my language abilities, and thus social and intellectual abilities are pretty low. Languages are tough. I feel like I can communicate fairly well, but there's no way I can jump into their conversations, or even answer their questions without asking them to speak slower, or what a certain word means. Its rough but one of those things that I'm sure I'll appreciate when I am done.
- Also a couple weeks ago I started tutoring Francesca, a 9 year old Italian girl in English! This is really good for my Italian too - but a lot more fun! She is so cute, and I really enjoy the challenge of trying to make lessons interesting. We do lots of singing, game playing, and drawing - she thinks I'm wonderful, what more do I need in the world?
-Then, of course, the independent adventures throughout Rome must continue... some photos from a few of these below. Unfortunately though, research papers and approaching final projects have made these times less frequent :(
Capitoline Hill
Appian Way - I took a day trip here, 30 min outside the city center. For an ancient road it was pretty scary to walk down, as you can see by the narrow roadway, lack of sidewalk, zooming cars, and high walls surrounding. This only further proves that Caroline likes to live on the edge.
Sunset over the Jewish Ghetto (where the word "ghetto" originated - now its not a ghetto in the typical American sense of the term) - the squarish tower on the left side is the local synagogue.
Catacombs of S. Sebastiano, S. Callisto, and S. Domitilla were along the Appian Way. I went to the catacombs of S. Callisto.
I went to a free sacred choral music concert in the church of S. Igazio. This is the church of the founder of the Jesuit order, St. Ignatius. It is quite ornate!
Forum at night
Renaissance Tempietto designed by Brancacci. This is up on this beautiful hill called Gianicolo on the West side of town.
In South Rome, I visited some of the sites nearby. This is the pyramid of Cestius Gaius during the reign of Caesar Augustus when there was what historians call "Egyptomania" in Rome. Next door is part of the Roman walls created toward the decline of the Empire to keep out those darn barbarians!
Sunset over Via del Corso
Pantheon
The Protestant cemetery is nearby also, and has a number of famous Romantic poets, writers, and composers. Here is one of my favorites: Percy Bysshe Shelley.
And I finally gave in and bought one of those obnoxious Euro puffy jackets with fur... which I love!!! I wear it around in my room when I'm doing homework, or out on the town, or going to class! It works for all occasions!
Anyway, in conclusion: I really love Rome. A lot.
Of course there are things and people I miss about home, California, Oxy, America, but I'm trying my best to" live in the moment" and appreciate this ridiculously amazingly fantastic opportunity I have to study in Rome.
A dopo!
29 October 2006
Barcelona!
Barcelona was the first stop on my week-long expedition some call Fall Break. In a word I would call this city vibrant: lots of bright colors, strange architecture, creative street performers, and good food.
Towards the end of my week I went on an architectural walk, with the help of my handy-dandy guide book. I found that Barcelona has this interesting combination of Gothic streets and churches from the Middle Ages next to extremely modern and creative complexes from the 20th century.
An apartment complex by Gaudi
Market continues outside of a Gothic church
The stark white contemporary art museum is nestled between "old world" apartment buildings with colorful laundry out the windows.
traditionalism vs. modernity - aww it sounds like an Occidental humanities paper!
Skateboarders take over the museum's plaza after hours.
Speaking of tradition... I was wandering around the Barric Gothic in Barcelona when I happened upon a large group of Barcelonans practicing the local Catalan dance the "Sardana." It's one of those cutesy circle dances where they all hold hands and kick their feet in the air. I kind of wanted to join in but held myself back. Here are some photos of the pros:
the hot band keeping it funky fresh...
One of the cool things about Barcelona is their open markets. There are several throughout the city as well as vendors along the main street La Rambla. Here are some photos of the two:
Mercat de la Boqueria
Note the pig's head.
Good times.
Towards the end of my week I went on an architectural walk, with the help of my handy-dandy guide book. I found that Barcelona has this interesting combination of Gothic streets and churches from the Middle Ages next to extremely modern and creative complexes from the 20th century.
An apartment complex by Gaudi
Market continues outside of a Gothic church
The stark white contemporary art museum is nestled between "old world" apartment buildings with colorful laundry out the windows.
traditionalism vs. modernity - aww it sounds like an Occidental humanities paper!
Skateboarders take over the museum's plaza after hours.
Speaking of tradition... I was wandering around the Barric Gothic in Barcelona when I happened upon a large group of Barcelonans practicing the local Catalan dance the "Sardana." It's one of those cutesy circle dances where they all hold hands and kick their feet in the air. I kind of wanted to join in but held myself back. Here are some photos of the pros:
the hot band keeping it funky fresh...
One of the cool things about Barcelona is their open markets. There are several throughout the city as well as vendors along the main street La Rambla. Here are some photos of the two:
Mercat de la Boqueria
Note the pig's head.
Good times.
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