Friday, March 25
Messy rituals
Today was Holy Thursday, so starting holy week. My holy week is very busy, because all of the masses are unique, and I am actively involved in making them that way. Well, my only job today was serving actually. Anyway, what makes Holy Thursday unique is the washing of the feet, dancing (at my parish), blessing of ministers, and benediction. So serving was actually a bigger job than usual. I like my rituals messy, so this is a good liturgy for me. Washing feet is messy. Full submersion baptisms are messy (although I don't think we're having any this year (and that would be saturday, anyway)). I don't like how clean the ritual of communion is. It is so standardized and institutionalized. We used to have parishoners actually bake unleavened bread for mass (my mom and I made the bread the night before my first communion), but the hierarchy of the church swooped in and forced us to stop so that everyone everywhere is doing exactly the same thing, as if creativity and individual expression of spirituality is a sin. And then more recently, someone also told us we had to buy gold communion vessels, instead of using our glass/crystal (flashback to Indiana Jones and the search for the Holy Grail- didn't the fancier one lead to death?). And then tonight, with there being liturgical dance, I saw some visitor laughing at it, looking astonished. He actually started off mocking it, and then just stared. Of all the things to make fun of about a Catholic mass, he picks the only ounce of uniqueness. Of course, that's why he was mocking it. What should be ridiculed are lifeless ceremonies that are void of conscious participation by the majority because their repetitiveness lulls people to just follow along without thinking. These are blanket statements I shouldn't be making because I can only knowingly apply them to myself. I did enjoy benediction/adoration because it afforded me the opportunity to attempt meditating, with some success. Meditation is obviously very close to prayer, if not synonymous, but I use that word because of the mindset that comes with it for me. The mindset I assume attempting to pray will inevitably lead to much wandering of the mind, whereas meditation is focused on clearing the mind, centering one's being in God. Just helpful terminology for me. The idea of prayer, unfortunately, is cliched for me at the moment. Admittedly, as I write this, I feel moved to prayer, which I'll take as the opportunity it is.
Tuesday, March 22
My precious internets
I finally switched to Mozilla's Firefox. I attempted to do so several times but promptly fell back into my IE ways , feeling attached to my Google toolbar (which is not yet compatible with firefox). But with a little exploring, I found my precious bar (not the official version) and so much more. It is so customizable. I'm so happy.
So now I'm free from the monopolistic internet explorer.
Firefox, Google, Blogger, Wikipedia: view, search, write, learn. It's all right there, the best of the internet, as I have experienced thus far. And all are free and/or open source. I'm still learning all I can do with Firefox. Google: where do I start? I already mentioned the toolbar. Then there's Google desktop, in which the contents of your hard drive become easily searchable, including instant message conversations. And Picasa2, which allows you to organize and manipulate your digital pictures so easily (including uploading them to blogger with Hello). And my wonderful gmail. And of course, blogger is part of Google now. There's also the photoblog I just started, but now that I think about it, it's rather redundant, since I could just start a photoblog with Blogger. In fact, I think I will. Wikipedia is a really rad and idealistic concept that has actually worked. Most of the time, I actually use Answers, which uses Wikipedia content in its search results, when I want to learn about something.
Obviously, all of this is still done with a Windows computer. It's so ingrained in my habits by now. However, I've used macs at school all the time. Maybe I'll make the switch eventually. We shall see. Of course, none of this matters to you. But I told you anyway.
And now I have created a photoblog with Blogger. I put more photos on this one (at least one of every kid at the center), so go see it. Only the first ten pictures are on the main page, so you'll have to click on the March archive to see 'em all. I've since realized that the benefit of buzznet is the organization allowed, but that's ok.
So now I'm free from the monopolistic internet explorer.
Firefox, Google, Blogger, Wikipedia: view, search, write, learn. It's all right there, the best of the internet, as I have experienced thus far. And all are free and/or open source. I'm still learning all I can do with Firefox. Google: where do I start? I already mentioned the toolbar. Then there's Google desktop, in which the contents of your hard drive become easily searchable, including instant message conversations. And Picasa2, which allows you to organize and manipulate your digital pictures so easily (including uploading them to blogger with Hello). And my wonderful gmail. And of course, blogger is part of Google now. There's also the photoblog I just started, but now that I think about it, it's rather redundant, since I could just start a photoblog with Blogger. In fact, I think I will. Wikipedia is a really rad and idealistic concept that has actually worked. Most of the time, I actually use Answers, which uses Wikipedia content in its search results, when I want to learn about something.
Obviously, all of this is still done with a Windows computer. It's so ingrained in my habits by now. However, I've used macs at school all the time. Maybe I'll make the switch eventually. We shall see. Of course, none of this matters to you. But I told you anyway.
And now I have created a photoblog with Blogger. I put more photos on this one (at least one of every kid at the center), so go see it. Only the first ten pictures are on the main page, so you'll have to click on the March archive to see 'em all. I've since realized that the benefit of buzznet is the organization allowed, but that's ok.
Saturday, March 19
Learning to pray
I have conflict within me. And most of it relates to matters of religion. By this point, I am firmly of the belief that Catholicism or even Christianity is not the religion of absolute truth. Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and probably a lot of other smaller ones that I'm forgetting- these are all viable options in one's personal path towards truth. Or is religion just the opium of the masses- blinding and appeasing everyone to distract them from their suffering? Religion, I read somewhere, is not what we do for God, but a celebration of what God has done for us. Who is God? Supreme being. All good. All loving. Omnipotent. Omnipresent. In my limited reasoning mind, I resort to encasing God into something with human properties- Jesus, only older. But being omnipresent, God is within me. There isn't an old man within me, even a spirit of an old man. But God is within me. In reading Power of Now, God is equated with the reality of beingness- what is found in the present moment. If we only lived there, that's already heaven. "The reality of beingness" is a much more vague picture of God to try to hold on to, but it might be more accurate. Think about it- God's name is I am who am. I suppose my trouble is conceiving something so vague as supreme being- an entity who willed the existence of the universe, who willed my existence. I say that I am a child of God. Thinking about that, I suppose it refers to God creating me and my efforts to do God's will. God's will- now how do I know what that is? I've always had difficulty with prayer. Holding a coversation with God, as I have always tried to do, ends up being as draining as any conversation is for this introvert. I've noticed that my level of commitment to a conversation is largely dependent upon the other person. If they are dynamic and funny, I will do my best to keep up. If they are as quiet as I am, the conversation will proceed slowly and disjointedly. Now apply that general rule to the Being that is not even there in physical form to converse but rather communicates with you in the slightest way, in the whisper of the breeze or the rustle of the grass. It feels like the epitome of one-sided conversations (anyone who has talked with me knows what those are like, but I'm getting better, slowly). To be completely honest, most of the time when I pray, I feel like I'm talking to myself. And consequently, I don't spend much time doing it. What is the purpose of prayer? To petition, praise, thank, and ask forgiveness (thanks grade school religion class). I don't think I really understand petitioning God. Like asking for blessing. People who have recovered from illness do say that prayer helped heal them, but I don't understand why God needs the encouragement. I suppose the positive energy of community building that results from the pray has an influence. I think my problem is that I see prayer as an obligation to do at the end of my day instead of taking the opportunities to prayer throughout the day when I actually have praise and thanks for God. I don't know what to think about the sacraments. I still believe they are useful, and therefore still use them, but following the idea that the Catholic Church is not the only source of truth, the Sacraments are not necessarily the main source of grace. I find genuine (ie, personally created) rituals much more meaningful. That's the thing- there are an infinite number of ways to pray. I'm severely limiting my options. Meditation- a direct gateway to living in the moment- is an attractive option at the moment. Buddhism in particular is appearing to me to lead me to knowledge of truth. Nirvana is completely separating from self to rejoin in the oneness of being. If that is not the same as the heaven I've been trying to picture, I don't know what is.
To say that I believe in God is a pretty empty statement. The majority of people who make that statement don't back it up with any action (beyond the superficial). The challenge is to move from belief (mind) to knowing (soul). It seems to me that you can be taught an idea, but you won't know it, it won't be real to you, until you experience it, try it, take action. That's my meditating through action.
My action this week has been to transport primarily by bicycle. The weather is finally warm enough. I have to learn to deal with rain soon, though. It has been a wonderful experience so far.
To say that I believe in God is a pretty empty statement. The majority of people who make that statement don't back it up with any action (beyond the superficial). The challenge is to move from belief (mind) to knowing (soul). It seems to me that you can be taught an idea, but you won't know it, it won't be real to you, until you experience it, try it, take action. That's my meditating through action.
My action this week has been to transport primarily by bicycle. The weather is finally warm enough. I have to learn to deal with rain soon, though. It has been a wonderful experience so far.
Now
I have, in the past, waited until finishing a book to write about it. But why put off to the future something I can do now?
And that's the point. Or the result of the point.
The book is The Power of Now, by Eckhart Tolle. I believe I briefly mentioned it in my last rambling post. I also talked about my dislike of time a while back, but I was a little fuzzy in my reasons for it- what I've read so far explains my own opinions to myself very nicely. Basically, time is the source of all unhappiness- as manifested in living in the past or future (through regret et al. and anxiety et al., respectively) instead of the present. And even if your living in the past or future is not characterized negatively, you're still missing the now, when your life actually happens. Any problems that you may be worrying about (that is, to be focused on the future) are suffering that you create for yourself. There are no problems, only situations that you deal with now, accepting them and then addressing them if necessary (if even possible). With the joy and peace that comes with living in the moment, violence is not possible- a nice side effect for a pacifist. We identify ourselves largely with labels that we create and maintain (as I have talked about before). We cling to these labels because we associate them with our existence. They are only in existence because of a constant connection to the past. Living in the now threatens the existence of these labels, and therefore, our perceived existence. We cling to our lives, not wanting to die. But if we let those labels go, we'd find that there is no death, except to those labels that are not you. When you live in the moment, anything fake about you must pass away and you are left with the reality of your self, your being.
Just some thoughts that struck me so far. More inevitably to come.
And that's the point. Or the result of the point.
The book is The Power of Now, by Eckhart Tolle. I believe I briefly mentioned it in my last rambling post. I also talked about my dislike of time a while back, but I was a little fuzzy in my reasons for it- what I've read so far explains my own opinions to myself very nicely. Basically, time is the source of all unhappiness- as manifested in living in the past or future (through regret et al. and anxiety et al., respectively) instead of the present. And even if your living in the past or future is not characterized negatively, you're still missing the now, when your life actually happens. Any problems that you may be worrying about (that is, to be focused on the future) are suffering that you create for yourself. There are no problems, only situations that you deal with now, accepting them and then addressing them if necessary (if even possible). With the joy and peace that comes with living in the moment, violence is not possible- a nice side effect for a pacifist. We identify ourselves largely with labels that we create and maintain (as I have talked about before). We cling to these labels because we associate them with our existence. They are only in existence because of a constant connection to the past. Living in the now threatens the existence of these labels, and therefore, our perceived existence. We cling to our lives, not wanting to die. But if we let those labels go, we'd find that there is no death, except to those labels that are not you. When you live in the moment, anything fake about you must pass away and you are left with the reality of your self, your being.
Just some thoughts that struck me so far. More inevitably to come.
Sunday, March 13
Meditate through action
I find it interesting that languages intrigue me so much when they are the cause of so much division- from other people and from the original thoughts you were trying to express. Language is a defective tool of communication. Body language is clearer. But you can never perfectly know what a person is trying to tell you.
The ideas I talk about- anarchism, primitivism- I haven't put them into practice in any substantial way. My life has remained largely unaffected by my discussion of these ideas. I have formed different prejudices towards the targets of these ideas (government, civilization), and supposedly my prejudices have some influence on my actions. But talking about these ideas has been mostly futile. I want so much to be an idealist. But to be an idealist is to constantly strive for the unattainable. Which I suppose is a worthy cause. In that striving, progression would be made. Change. How much is my life changing from week to week? Sometimes I do make a change for the better. And sometimes I fall back into old patterns after a while. What's to stop me? It takes a lot of energy to be constantly working to change for the better. If I stop making an effort after having achieved some sort of progress, that stagnancy degrades into recession. Obviously, I cannot possibly work for progress to infinity by my own strength. Where is the hope? The pursuit of perfection does not have to be an all or nothing deal. I am a finite being that can exert a finite amount of energy. God, an infinite being, forgives that. I'm not going to say that all I have to do is rely on God and everything will be fine and I'll mysteriously have the energy to be perfect. Those are words that I tell myself. I don't really know what they mean or what results from them. I don't know how to fully rely on God. I do know that for the majority of the time, I shut myself off from God. I'm working on changing my perception of God- God is not a man in the sky. Of course, I have acknowledged this fact for most of my life, but I continue to perceive God as somehow finite and still "over there," maybe not up in the sky, but not right next to me, not within me. So when I say that I want to not shut myself off from God, that requires a prerequisite change in my perception of God. Which is a largely futile exercise, as my mind cannot fully grasp any infinite concept. That's why Jesus is handy. He chose to become human, finite, conceivable. And I am able to come to know the Father through him because of that.
As I have made some of the conceptual progress I spoke of above, I gained friendships with individuals who look less than favorably on religion and God in general. Obviously, friends have a big influence on how I think, so I have been led to consider whether faith is a suspension of reason. This assumes that reason is the ultimate source of truth. There is evidence for God on the level of reason (Pascal's wager and such), but if reason is the end of your use of your mind, you're missing a lot. "I think, therefore I am" is not as wise a statement as it sounds. Consider consciousness. Most of the time, you are speaking thoughts to your self internally, but there are also times (however few) that your mind is silent, yet you are still conscious. You are living in the moment, not concerned with the past or future, but simply happy to be. Imagine (I realize this will undoubtedly induce thoughts) this state as eternal. That is my image of heaven.
Part of the system that anarchism aims to reject is this enslavement to thought. (These thoughts have been produced as a result of starting to read The Power of Now) Anarchists tend to be rather philosophical in nature, philosophy being various systems of thoughts. And therefore, they are still subject to the systems they want to emancipate themselves from. That emancipation can only truly occur through the freedom found in the present moment, connectedness, oneness, God. And again, the word God is misleading, not conveying the spiritual beingness that is. Words obviously fail, so I'll stop trying. Just a few notes to battle my own misperceptions of God. God does not have a body that looks like a human. Our souls are made in the image and likeness of God, not our bodies. God is not male or female, as I have already discussed (yet the pronoun problem persists- henceforth, the discontinuation of use of pronouns with God). However, Jesus was human and male and male pronouns are of course relevant. My perception and acceptance of the Trinity is adjusting. To what, I am still discovering. The Son does not sit at the right hand of the Father. God entered the world of time and space for a period, as Jesus, and when Jesus left the world, he again became one with God. The ideas of God the father and God the son are just used so that we can attempt to understand the kind of relationship God has with God. God loves God. That love is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is God. God is love. All of these words are refering to the same being. Why must we make a fuss with dividing that being up, distracting us from the simple, plain truth that God created us out of love, wanting us to choose to love God in return and each other as a result?
The being that is God is absolute truth, love, goodness. I have had questions about curses and blessings. Obviously, God does not will bad things to happen to people. Misfortune is indirect result of sin (ie Original Sin). But if God does not curse, does God bless? And if God blesses, wouldn't the absense of a blessing in some situations be the equivalent of a curse? Perhaps, sin is such that it often prevents God's blessing, which is offered at every opportunity. God would love to bestow the grace of blessing on everyone all the time, but such is only possible within the unity and oneness of love. When bad things happen to good people for no reason, God mourns, made helpless by the rejection of God's love. When blessings and miracles show themselves, it is a result of people choosing to come together in love. This is by no means to say that if you incur some misfortune, it is directly related to some sin you have committed, but it is simply the result of the fallen state of humanity in general. It is hard to accept the senseless deaths of tsunami victims as having no one to blame for it but ourselves. But that we must do. Change can only come from within. It will take a moral effort to accept the truth that Jesus taught. It will take sacrifice- sacrifice of the material things you want to hold on to for comfort. Either way, those material things will pass away eventually. The question is whether I will give them up now in order to love God, freeing myself to live, or hold on to those material things and doom myself to die. Can't serve God and mammon. You can piss away your life by choosing to be distracted by entertainment (not just entertainment though, any distraction or addiction. anything out of moderation probably denies life. that's not saying you have to be perfect. but aim high. christianity is all about aiming for something out of reach and constantly failing- fools for God), but what kind of life will that be?
I don't know what the next step to take is, and that is okay. I know that I need to take it. Action is required. I'm not talking about a hard, puritan work ethic in which all enjoyment is sucked out of life, because that too is a life-denying obsession. Any action should effectively result in greater and greater joy as I continue to move closer and closer to God. In my finiteness, I can never come to know God fully, but such is the state and purpose of life.
A very good place to start is to free oneself from the need to use ineffectual thoughts, living within the moment, a place and time in which you become utterly connected with the world around you, with humanity (another abused concept), with God, making nonviolence and love as necessary as breathing. You are not an individual, closed off from everyone around you; you are connected with everyone and everything. If you accept this, letting go of your own self-centeredness by choice, then you are doing your part to bring the kingdom of God. This is very idealistic language, and I, of course, will fail. But that doesn't make the effort fruitless.
It is strange that I feel so satisfied, having written this, as if I actually clearly communicated what I wanted to. That was a whole lot of lofty language with very little practicality within it. I have no experiential knowledge that living in the moment leads to a connectedness with the world. Maybe this needed to be said to spur me on to action, but feeling satisfied with what I've written won't spur me on very much. Who's to decide what progress towards perfection actually entails? I have ideas that I have gathered, but again, that is a subjective interpretation of the truth. Objective truth does exist. I read something today, justifying relativism, asking how you can be against something that is good for everyone. But as humans, we often obviously do not choose what is good for us. How do we find that truth (which is God)?
I need to go meditate for a while. But this writing is a form of meditating. I need to meditate through action- not making logical sense, but it somehow succeeds to mean what I wanted to say.
The ideas I talk about- anarchism, primitivism- I haven't put them into practice in any substantial way. My life has remained largely unaffected by my discussion of these ideas. I have formed different prejudices towards the targets of these ideas (government, civilization), and supposedly my prejudices have some influence on my actions. But talking about these ideas has been mostly futile. I want so much to be an idealist. But to be an idealist is to constantly strive for the unattainable. Which I suppose is a worthy cause. In that striving, progression would be made. Change. How much is my life changing from week to week? Sometimes I do make a change for the better. And sometimes I fall back into old patterns after a while. What's to stop me? It takes a lot of energy to be constantly working to change for the better. If I stop making an effort after having achieved some sort of progress, that stagnancy degrades into recession. Obviously, I cannot possibly work for progress to infinity by my own strength. Where is the hope? The pursuit of perfection does not have to be an all or nothing deal. I am a finite being that can exert a finite amount of energy. God, an infinite being, forgives that. I'm not going to say that all I have to do is rely on God and everything will be fine and I'll mysteriously have the energy to be perfect. Those are words that I tell myself. I don't really know what they mean or what results from them. I don't know how to fully rely on God. I do know that for the majority of the time, I shut myself off from God. I'm working on changing my perception of God- God is not a man in the sky. Of course, I have acknowledged this fact for most of my life, but I continue to perceive God as somehow finite and still "over there," maybe not up in the sky, but not right next to me, not within me. So when I say that I want to not shut myself off from God, that requires a prerequisite change in my perception of God. Which is a largely futile exercise, as my mind cannot fully grasp any infinite concept. That's why Jesus is handy. He chose to become human, finite, conceivable. And I am able to come to know the Father through him because of that.
As I have made some of the conceptual progress I spoke of above, I gained friendships with individuals who look less than favorably on religion and God in general. Obviously, friends have a big influence on how I think, so I have been led to consider whether faith is a suspension of reason. This assumes that reason is the ultimate source of truth. There is evidence for God on the level of reason (Pascal's wager and such), but if reason is the end of your use of your mind, you're missing a lot. "I think, therefore I am" is not as wise a statement as it sounds. Consider consciousness. Most of the time, you are speaking thoughts to your self internally, but there are also times (however few) that your mind is silent, yet you are still conscious. You are living in the moment, not concerned with the past or future, but simply happy to be. Imagine (I realize this will undoubtedly induce thoughts) this state as eternal. That is my image of heaven.
Part of the system that anarchism aims to reject is this enslavement to thought. (These thoughts have been produced as a result of starting to read The Power of Now) Anarchists tend to be rather philosophical in nature, philosophy being various systems of thoughts. And therefore, they are still subject to the systems they want to emancipate themselves from. That emancipation can only truly occur through the freedom found in the present moment, connectedness, oneness, God. And again, the word God is misleading, not conveying the spiritual beingness that is. Words obviously fail, so I'll stop trying. Just a few notes to battle my own misperceptions of God. God does not have a body that looks like a human. Our souls are made in the image and likeness of God, not our bodies. God is not male or female, as I have already discussed (yet the pronoun problem persists- henceforth, the discontinuation of use of pronouns with God). However, Jesus was human and male and male pronouns are of course relevant. My perception and acceptance of the Trinity is adjusting. To what, I am still discovering. The Son does not sit at the right hand of the Father. God entered the world of time and space for a period, as Jesus, and when Jesus left the world, he again became one with God. The ideas of God the father and God the son are just used so that we can attempt to understand the kind of relationship God has with God. God loves God. That love is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is God. God is love. All of these words are refering to the same being. Why must we make a fuss with dividing that being up, distracting us from the simple, plain truth that God created us out of love, wanting us to choose to love God in return and each other as a result?
The being that is God is absolute truth, love, goodness. I have had questions about curses and blessings. Obviously, God does not will bad things to happen to people. Misfortune is indirect result of sin (ie Original Sin). But if God does not curse, does God bless? And if God blesses, wouldn't the absense of a blessing in some situations be the equivalent of a curse? Perhaps, sin is such that it often prevents God's blessing, which is offered at every opportunity. God would love to bestow the grace of blessing on everyone all the time, but such is only possible within the unity and oneness of love. When bad things happen to good people for no reason, God mourns, made helpless by the rejection of God's love. When blessings and miracles show themselves, it is a result of people choosing to come together in love. This is by no means to say that if you incur some misfortune, it is directly related to some sin you have committed, but it is simply the result of the fallen state of humanity in general. It is hard to accept the senseless deaths of tsunami victims as having no one to blame for it but ourselves. But that we must do. Change can only come from within. It will take a moral effort to accept the truth that Jesus taught. It will take sacrifice- sacrifice of the material things you want to hold on to for comfort. Either way, those material things will pass away eventually. The question is whether I will give them up now in order to love God, freeing myself to live, or hold on to those material things and doom myself to die. Can't serve God and mammon. You can piss away your life by choosing to be distracted by entertainment (not just entertainment though, any distraction or addiction. anything out of moderation probably denies life. that's not saying you have to be perfect. but aim high. christianity is all about aiming for something out of reach and constantly failing- fools for God), but what kind of life will that be?
I don't know what the next step to take is, and that is okay. I know that I need to take it. Action is required. I'm not talking about a hard, puritan work ethic in which all enjoyment is sucked out of life, because that too is a life-denying obsession. Any action should effectively result in greater and greater joy as I continue to move closer and closer to God. In my finiteness, I can never come to know God fully, but such is the state and purpose of life.
A very good place to start is to free oneself from the need to use ineffectual thoughts, living within the moment, a place and time in which you become utterly connected with the world around you, with humanity (another abused concept), with God, making nonviolence and love as necessary as breathing. You are not an individual, closed off from everyone around you; you are connected with everyone and everything. If you accept this, letting go of your own self-centeredness by choice, then you are doing your part to bring the kingdom of God. This is very idealistic language, and I, of course, will fail. But that doesn't make the effort fruitless.
It is strange that I feel so satisfied, having written this, as if I actually clearly communicated what I wanted to. That was a whole lot of lofty language with very little practicality within it. I have no experiential knowledge that living in the moment leads to a connectedness with the world. Maybe this needed to be said to spur me on to action, but feeling satisfied with what I've written won't spur me on very much. Who's to decide what progress towards perfection actually entails? I have ideas that I have gathered, but again, that is a subjective interpretation of the truth. Objective truth does exist. I read something today, justifying relativism, asking how you can be against something that is good for everyone. But as humans, we often obviously do not choose what is good for us. How do we find that truth (which is God)?
I need to go meditate for a while. But this writing is a form of meditating. I need to meditate through action- not making logical sense, but it somehow succeeds to mean what I wanted to say.
Having a life, world religions, freedom from entertainment
I made the observation friday that I was a very diligent student as a freshman, also observing a gradual decline since then. That is, it is perfectly fine for me to receive a B now. And I've realized that this "decline" is a result of now having a life. There are other things that are equally or more important than school that I want to divide my attention towards. That's what I do when I'm "procrastinating." So it is important to note for myself that when it comes to freshman year of college, I won't magically be diligent again unless my priorities change. Some of my priorities do need adjusting. I would like to be able to get a good full 7 or 8 hours of sleep each night. Unfortunately, that requires going to bed earlier, as waking up any later is not an option. A good portion of that procrastinating is still just wasted time. Like television. And 90% of the internet. So I do want to gain back some of my diligence, as a side effect of cutting out the crap. I do really enjoy having something of a life now, though. (but wasting hours in front of a television or computer is not living)
On a completely different subject, after studying Gandhi's life in theology class, I am very interested in learning more about Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam. I am considering studying world religions in particular in college. My prayer life needs some shaking up.
Reverting back to my first topic, I find myself wasting those hours in from of a television or computer screen because it is entertaining. I laugh. To entertain is "to hold the attention of with something amusing or diverting" (dictionary.com). Diverting. Your attention is litterally "held among" some diversion. Imprisoned, if you will. I am enslaved by entertainment. It's a choice I make, so I want it to stop. Laughter is much more meaningful with friends, anyway. And now I'll have more time for them. Isn't this something Buddha taught about, anyway?
On a completely different subject, after studying Gandhi's life in theology class, I am very interested in learning more about Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam. I am considering studying world religions in particular in college. My prayer life needs some shaking up.
Reverting back to my first topic, I find myself wasting those hours in from of a television or computer screen because it is entertaining. I laugh. To entertain is "to hold the attention of with something amusing or diverting" (dictionary.com). Diverting. Your attention is litterally "held among" some diversion. Imprisoned, if you will. I am enslaved by entertainment. It's a choice I make, so I want it to stop. Laughter is much more meaningful with friends, anyway. And now I'll have more time for them. Isn't this something Buddha taught about, anyway?
Friday, March 11
The Kingdom of God is Within You
Today I was asked by a classmate what I had in mind for my career. At first I didn't respond because I happen to find the classmate particularly annoying. But when he pressed, asking what kind of job I wanted to have, I was compelled to answer. I don't want a job. "What?! You aren't going to work?" he stated incriminatingly. No, I'll work. I just don't want a job. Or anything that you would consider a job. "But you have to get paid to live." I don't think money should be the main reason one works. "But you still need it." Maybe. (I took a little literary license in transcribing the conversation).
However fruitless the conversation was, it did get me thinking. Not that I hadn't been thinking about this prior to this conversation, but what will it be like to actually be living in voluntary poverty? Of course, sacrifice is involved. When I do not have a car, I will bike, walk, and ride mass transit everywhere- which would have made the trek out to Maryville to see the Pulitzer photo exhibit so much more complicated. Actually, I could have most probably found a ride, but with the convenience of my own car, why consider conserving gas? (the exhibit was great, by the way) And again tonight, I went out with my dad to see a one-woman play on Dorothy Day, and if my dad hadn't driven, I would have. And if I didn't, it would probably take an hour to get there (for an hour long play). (the play was great, by the way) And without the computer that I'm using to type this, I'd have to keep this blog using library computers when they're open (it's 2 am, presently- prime time for my writing).
It's amazing to consider what I really need, materially, with what I have. I need shelter (preferably providing some soft surface to sleep) (but not necessarily the same shelter each day), food/water, a few articles of clothing, a library card, untouched wilderness (clean air/water, naturally growing things). And then I look around my room. I stare at all of the stuff I'm hoarding (stealing from someone who could put it to better use), and I ask myself why I make life so complicated. Not that it is all black and white, but I have to admit that I'm throwing a lot of brown into the situation. As in excrement. As in waste. As in, why do I have 40 polo shirts? Why do I need 40 polo shirts? Just because they only cost $3 at value village doesn't mean I have to buy one for every day of the semester. It does cut down on laundry, though.
I was disgusted with myself after buying souvenirs in Honduras, spending so much money on unnecessary things. I enjoy the things I got very much. I'm sitting right now on a brilliantly colored blanket I use as a bedspread. The clothes I brought back are so cool. The nicknacks on the bookshelves are very interesting. I enjoy these things. But at what cost? And to whom?
In my Catholic Social Teaching class, we have been studying Gandhi's nonviolence. He described poverty as the worst kind of violence. And until we stand in solidarity with those we are trying to lift out of the violence of poverty, assuming the same pain that they are suffering, we are living as hypocrites, denying the truth of the situation with our actions while we (is this the royal we?) speak of working for social justice.
I just finished reading The Kingdom of God is Within You, in which nonresistance to evil by force is explicated. This phrase is a little confusing (at least, it was to me)- evil is still to be vehemently resisted, but not with more evil (that is, force/violence). It calls one to actively work to expose evil to the light of truth at great sacrifice to self that one rejoices in as God's will is served. (I'd like to see my english teacher diagram that sentence) This rejection of cooperation with evil leads directly to a rejection of human authority, namely the government and the institutions of churches.
Which is all well and good. I can pursue personal emancipation from the powers that be. The question raised for me is how much to still use those systems in place. I'd really like to get money to pay for college. So I had to file a FAFSA, and to file a FAFSA, I had to register for the draft (as a male), against my will. And do I still vote, when any changes enacted within the system will only be modest material improvements when a conversion of conscience would be required to bring real change?
A conversion to nonviolent living (in every aspect of your life, not just direct confrontations) would eradicate poverty. No amount of violence to overthrow oppressive governments will ever result in lasting peace and justice for humanity (it'll only intensify the problem).
Make sure not to confuse anarchy with anomie. They are very different. While anarchy is without government organization, all organization is certainly not abandoned. I have faith that humans could govern themselves (individually and in cooperative communities) if given the opportunity. The Kingdom of God is within you and it's within me. Its coming depends only on us. The essence of our lives is the search for truth, the purpose- to serve humanity through our love of God, doing our part to bring about God's kingdom through the truth of Jesus' message. And that message was clearly, "Resist not evil" (Matt. 5. 39.)
That's enough philosophizing for one morning. I'm going to bed.
However fruitless the conversation was, it did get me thinking. Not that I hadn't been thinking about this prior to this conversation, but what will it be like to actually be living in voluntary poverty? Of course, sacrifice is involved. When I do not have a car, I will bike, walk, and ride mass transit everywhere- which would have made the trek out to Maryville to see the Pulitzer photo exhibit so much more complicated. Actually, I could have most probably found a ride, but with the convenience of my own car, why consider conserving gas? (the exhibit was great, by the way) And again tonight, I went out with my dad to see a one-woman play on Dorothy Day, and if my dad hadn't driven, I would have. And if I didn't, it would probably take an hour to get there (for an hour long play). (the play was great, by the way) And without the computer that I'm using to type this, I'd have to keep this blog using library computers when they're open (it's 2 am, presently- prime time for my writing).
It's amazing to consider what I really need, materially, with what I have. I need shelter (preferably providing some soft surface to sleep) (but not necessarily the same shelter each day), food/water, a few articles of clothing, a library card, untouched wilderness (clean air/water, naturally growing things). And then I look around my room. I stare at all of the stuff I'm hoarding (stealing from someone who could put it to better use), and I ask myself why I make life so complicated. Not that it is all black and white, but I have to admit that I'm throwing a lot of brown into the situation. As in excrement. As in waste. As in, why do I have 40 polo shirts? Why do I need 40 polo shirts? Just because they only cost $3 at value village doesn't mean I have to buy one for every day of the semester. It does cut down on laundry, though.
I was disgusted with myself after buying souvenirs in Honduras, spending so much money on unnecessary things. I enjoy the things I got very much. I'm sitting right now on a brilliantly colored blanket I use as a bedspread. The clothes I brought back are so cool. The nicknacks on the bookshelves are very interesting. I enjoy these things. But at what cost? And to whom?
In my Catholic Social Teaching class, we have been studying Gandhi's nonviolence. He described poverty as the worst kind of violence. And until we stand in solidarity with those we are trying to lift out of the violence of poverty, assuming the same pain that they are suffering, we are living as hypocrites, denying the truth of the situation with our actions while we (is this the royal we?) speak of working for social justice.
I just finished reading The Kingdom of God is Within You, in which nonresistance to evil by force is explicated. This phrase is a little confusing (at least, it was to me)- evil is still to be vehemently resisted, but not with more evil (that is, force/violence). It calls one to actively work to expose evil to the light of truth at great sacrifice to self that one rejoices in as God's will is served. (I'd like to see my english teacher diagram that sentence) This rejection of cooperation with evil leads directly to a rejection of human authority, namely the government and the institutions of churches.
Which is all well and good. I can pursue personal emancipation from the powers that be. The question raised for me is how much to still use those systems in place. I'd really like to get money to pay for college. So I had to file a FAFSA, and to file a FAFSA, I had to register for the draft (as a male), against my will. And do I still vote, when any changes enacted within the system will only be modest material improvements when a conversion of conscience would be required to bring real change?
A conversion to nonviolent living (in every aspect of your life, not just direct confrontations) would eradicate poverty. No amount of violence to overthrow oppressive governments will ever result in lasting peace and justice for humanity (it'll only intensify the problem).
Make sure not to confuse anarchy with anomie. They are very different. While anarchy is without government organization, all organization is certainly not abandoned. I have faith that humans could govern themselves (individually and in cooperative communities) if given the opportunity. The Kingdom of God is within you and it's within me. Its coming depends only on us. The essence of our lives is the search for truth, the purpose- to serve humanity through our love of God, doing our part to bring about God's kingdom through the truth of Jesus' message. And that message was clearly, "Resist not evil" (Matt. 5. 39.)
That's enough philosophizing for one morning. I'm going to bed.
Saturday, March 5
Honduras photos
If you would like to see a few (from the hundreds of) pictures from my Honduras trip, click here. More to come when I have time. Or you can come on over and I'll show 'em all to you! (if you have 2 hours to spare, that is)
Honduras
The town is called Yoro, the city of falling fish. There is one paved road, leading out of the city to San Pedro Sula (one of the two large metropolises). One stoplight (which, funny enough, is set to blink yellow for the main street and red, the other). My hostmom is named Vilma (pronounced Bilma). She owns a very nice ice cream shop, which my roommate and I frequented. Our host family's house was about a mile from the center where we worked. We went back to our hostfamilies' houses for lunch, so we probably walked about 5 or 6 miles each day. Walking, I learned, is great- except for midday with the sun burning through my hair and sunscreen. I also came to appreciate bicycles that much more. I was tempted to buy one (the most decent one down there would only be $80) just for the month I was there. Alex (my roommate) and I are both very quiet individuals, so the free time spent at our house was not very boisterous, to say the least. I decided not to bring any unnecessary technology with me (a decision which added to the stagnancy of the free time), such as an alarm clock, so Alex would usually wake me up around 7:30 to eat breakfast. Breakfast food ranged from wonderful pancakes (although the syrup was not exactly maple) to awful ham/cheese/ketchup/mustard sandwiches (my third worst meal- and we had it several times) to eggs, ham, beans, and tortillas (also the ingredients for the standard dinner meal, interestingly enough). I am now a huge fan of beans and tortillas. I have attempted to replicate here- not to be attempted again until I can take the time and energy to make it from scratch.
After breakfast, we went to the center, arriving around 8:30. Our first day, we all walked in, and the kids were just looking at us. And we were kind of just looking at them. We tried to interact with them, but with our nervousness and their inexperience with gringos showering attention upon them, it took a little while for us to become friends. But only a little while. That first day, I first went to a baby sitting on the floor. He was a fat baby named Luis Alonso (or Big Al). I kind of just sat in front of him and let him play with my hands, letting him get used to me while I got used to him. A lot of the kids were healthier than I expected, actually. Not that I really had any clear idea in my mind of what to expect. The average age was about 3. The majority could walk around. A handful were potty trained and could talk, at least to each other. Profe and the other spanish scholars could only understand a little of their spanish every once in a while.
One of these, who was potty trained and could talk, was named Lita. My Lita. She was 4 years old (now 5), but from her body size, she looks like she is 3 (obviously, with under- and malnourished children, growth is stunted). I quickly became attached to her. Or she quickly became attached to me. Either way, we were friends right away (she was the second child, after Big Al, that I spent time with on that first day). Afterwards, she would always run to greet me when I first arrived. I would pick her up, hug her, ask her what she wanted to do. She was a little bossy, sometimes demanding that I go outside or into the back room, getting upset when I didn't comply. But most of the time, it was hard not to comply, seeing her beautiful brown eyes filled with urgency for some unknown (to me) reason. If I didn't give in to her will every time, it was because I was tired and just wanted to sit down. Or lay down. Our work wasn't exactly demanding, physically, but just walking two miles at lunchtime could drain you for the rest of the afternoon. And the morning after a late night out resulted in some lethargy. With the kids generally being of a young age, we often took the opportunity to find kids that needed naps, and take one along with them. Lita was not much of a napper, unfortunately. I would try to sit down with her on the floor, or in the wooden lawn chairs (which were inside). Some of the strongest memories I have are of a child's body leaning into me. Lita would do this with me sitting on the floor and her standing, but she would still be looking around, her mouth hanging open so that when she moved her head from being cheek to cheek with me (oh, how smooth her cheeks were), I would get a very wet quasi-kiss. But she didn't stay in my arms for long. Rather, she would get bored with me after a while and go off to play with the other 4ish year olds, leaving me open to fall in love with the next girl, Angelica.
Angelica was only 6 months old (the youngest child Profe has seen at the center), and not even 7 pounds. Profe made sure that Angelica (pronounced Anhelica, by the way) did not spend any time alone in her crib or carriage- not while we were there. That first day, he held her most of the time. And again the second morning. But since Profe had yet to return when I got back from lunch, I decided to pick up where he left off. Angelica was not very active. Her eyes were constantly going, taking everything in, but she was not one to get bored and leave you behind. If you picked her up, you would probably have her for the next few hours, or the whole afternoon. Such was the case for me for the next few days. After a few days, I started to feel claustrophobic or imprisoned- sentenced to spend every minute of the rest of my time in Honduras, holding a baby that just looked at you. So I slowly let Profe have her back for a while. But she was improving rather rapidly. She was sick, having a lot of congestion in her chest. But that was slowly getting better. Then, on January 12, 10:31 am, Angelica smiled. It was glorious to see. She got to the point that whenever I picked her up, she would smile. Those four days that I was constantly holding Angelica in the beginning resulted, I believe, in the sores that developed on my arms (right where her head would rest). But even the threat of some infectous skin condition did not keep me away from her, now with the opportunity to see her face light up. Overall, I would estimate that I spent 60% of my time with Angelica. Sure it got a little boring sometimes. But looking back now, it was the ordinary hours spent just holding a child that made the experience so extraordinary.
A lot of what I just described- the naps, the avoiding Angelica for a little while- comes off as kind of selfish to me. But I'm portraying what went on. One of the things I had to learn, or let go of was my perfectionism. For the first few days, I was straining myself, wearing a fixed smile, trying to force myself to take in everything and experience as much as possible. But that was a barrier I was setting up, keeping me from any genuine experience. As soon as I let that down, allowing myself to be imperfect, to even tend to my own needs, I actually had something to give the kids. By halfway through, I had let down my guards and had become thoroughly attatched to all of the kids. The kids didn't care if we tried to use them to sleep. And if I wasn't holding Angelica, someone else was, most of the time. All that mattered was that the kids were still being loved, and I was actually enjoying the experience.
Well, I enjoyed it when I wasn't sick. And I did get sick- several times. The week before I left for Honduras, I had a rather substantial nosebleed. I had ridden my bike that morning, in the cold, so I thought maybe my nasal membranes were just dried out. But I don't think that, with Honduras' climate, dry membranes would be the cause of the two nosebleeds I had while I was there. The first one came on the sixth day (fifth morning) I was in Honduras. I woke up with a fever, and shortly thereafter, my nose began to bleed (and continued for 15 minutes). I didn't go to the center that day; hardly ate anything either (a tortilla at breakfast and a glass of juice that night). I stayed home the next morning as well, with a small bout of diarrhea. But I went to the center that afternoon, to escape my acute case of boredom (I had resorted to read my spanish/english dictionary and compute math problems(!) to distract myself and pass the time). The great thing about kids is that if you sit down, they will come. (apologies to the writers of Field of Dreams) I did not feel like picking up a kid. But I didn't need to. One climbed up in my lap all by herself (Lita, of course). I miss that. I was sitting under a tree yesterday after school, and I realized that no one was going to sit on my lap, join me, or even bother me. (I had slowed down enough after school to actually revert back to my Honduran mindset) The relationship I had with the kids was a very physical one. I cared for their bodily needs. They slept on me, walked on me, hugged me, hit me. They reached out and grabbed my physical body, paralleling the way they reached out and touched my heart. (sorry. I'll try to keep the cliched language to a minimum) But I digress. My second nosebleed was January 13, the day after Angelica smiled (my favority day). It happened at Jeff, the peace corps guy's house after we had finished our game of basketball. Again, I believe I got overheated, causing the nosebleed. This one lasted for at least a half hour, so Profe came and took me to a doctor. I got a vitamin K shot in my left arm. Also having a throat infection (which I had been complaining of for a while as a sore throat), I got amoxicillin and ibuprofen to take for 3 days (obviously not a full cycle that would actually make me all better, but it was free of charge, so I got more than what I paid for). I also got tested for Dengue fever the next morning (with a blood sample taken out of my left arm), which was negative. (Dengue is like the flu, except it lasts for a month.) The pills would have been no problem, except that I still can't swallow them. Luckily I had brought a huge jar of peanut butter from home with which to choke down the pills. After that, I made it home without any more trouble (except a stomach ache on the last morning), promptly getting sick for a week upon arrival. Four days of school missed is not a good way to start a new semester. I don't advise it. But I again digress.
The other kids' names, of whom I have yet to talk, are Enyer, Sonia, Wendy, Julia, Fabricio, Josue, Oscar, Efran, Dunia, Kenia, Santos, Javier, Maydi, and Carlos. The only other kid I'll talk about right now is Efran.
Efran was a bitter, bitter kid. He was very sick- lots of congestion, a sore on his ear, a constantly running nose. Sean (one of the other 5 classmates who made the trip with me) worked with him a lot, and when Sean wasn't around, I did too. Efran was such that when you held him after a while, he would just start to cry for no apparent reason, but when you set him down, he cried even more. Basically, he was uncomfortable. He certainly looked uncomfortable (his shirt never fit over his big bloated belly), and his actions were consistant with being uncomfortable. He was very high-maintainence. But even so, he did show a lot of improvement. Partly due to the medicine we gave him, the nebulizer mask we hooked him up to, and partly to how much we loved him. He, too, reached the point where he smiled and laughed, even crawling over to be picked up (as opposed to his usual state of sitting in the same place on the floor for hours at a time, looking miserable). And he got comfortable enough that he was even able to take a few naps with me, laying on my chest. Oh, how my chest aches now at the absence of a napping child.
The center may be going through some big changes for the better, as reported by Profe. After we left, a doctor has been coming on a regular basis. Jeff, the the Peace Corps guy, and Azita, the Worldvision nutritionist, are now very active in the center. And the board of directors may even hand over the reigns to the Church, which would greatly increase the involvement of the community with the center. So there is hope for the future.
And while the sting of returning home, being torn away from my friends, has eased, it is still difficult to continue on, almost being forced to forget about what happened most of the time in order to focus on school. If the classes I am taking this semester weren't so good, I don't think I could bear to think about how the kids are spending their time now, largely alone, and how I could be spending my time differently, back there with the kids, holding them and sleeping. It was an amazing month, and I am so grateful for it. I'm sure there'll be more I want to say later, but this is a good start.
After breakfast, we went to the center, arriving around 8:30. Our first day, we all walked in, and the kids were just looking at us. And we were kind of just looking at them. We tried to interact with them, but with our nervousness and their inexperience with gringos showering attention upon them, it took a little while for us to become friends. But only a little while. That first day, I first went to a baby sitting on the floor. He was a fat baby named Luis Alonso (or Big Al). I kind of just sat in front of him and let him play with my hands, letting him get used to me while I got used to him. A lot of the kids were healthier than I expected, actually. Not that I really had any clear idea in my mind of what to expect. The average age was about 3. The majority could walk around. A handful were potty trained and could talk, at least to each other. Profe and the other spanish scholars could only understand a little of their spanish every once in a while.
One of these, who was potty trained and could talk, was named Lita. My Lita. She was 4 years old (now 5), but from her body size, she looks like she is 3 (obviously, with under- and malnourished children, growth is stunted). I quickly became attached to her. Or she quickly became attached to me. Either way, we were friends right away (she was the second child, after Big Al, that I spent time with on that first day). Afterwards, she would always run to greet me when I first arrived. I would pick her up, hug her, ask her what she wanted to do. She was a little bossy, sometimes demanding that I go outside or into the back room, getting upset when I didn't comply. But most of the time, it was hard not to comply, seeing her beautiful brown eyes filled with urgency for some unknown (to me) reason. If I didn't give in to her will every time, it was because I was tired and just wanted to sit down. Or lay down. Our work wasn't exactly demanding, physically, but just walking two miles at lunchtime could drain you for the rest of the afternoon. And the morning after a late night out resulted in some lethargy. With the kids generally being of a young age, we often took the opportunity to find kids that needed naps, and take one along with them. Lita was not much of a napper, unfortunately. I would try to sit down with her on the floor, or in the wooden lawn chairs (which were inside). Some of the strongest memories I have are of a child's body leaning into me. Lita would do this with me sitting on the floor and her standing, but she would still be looking around, her mouth hanging open so that when she moved her head from being cheek to cheek with me (oh, how smooth her cheeks were), I would get a very wet quasi-kiss. But she didn't stay in my arms for long. Rather, she would get bored with me after a while and go off to play with the other 4ish year olds, leaving me open to fall in love with the next girl, Angelica.
Angelica was only 6 months old (the youngest child Profe has seen at the center), and not even 7 pounds. Profe made sure that Angelica (pronounced Anhelica, by the way) did not spend any time alone in her crib or carriage- not while we were there. That first day, he held her most of the time. And again the second morning. But since Profe had yet to return when I got back from lunch, I decided to pick up where he left off. Angelica was not very active. Her eyes were constantly going, taking everything in, but she was not one to get bored and leave you behind. If you picked her up, you would probably have her for the next few hours, or the whole afternoon. Such was the case for me for the next few days. After a few days, I started to feel claustrophobic or imprisoned- sentenced to spend every minute of the rest of my time in Honduras, holding a baby that just looked at you. So I slowly let Profe have her back for a while. But she was improving rather rapidly. She was sick, having a lot of congestion in her chest. But that was slowly getting better. Then, on January 12, 10:31 am, Angelica smiled. It was glorious to see. She got to the point that whenever I picked her up, she would smile. Those four days that I was constantly holding Angelica in the beginning resulted, I believe, in the sores that developed on my arms (right where her head would rest). But even the threat of some infectous skin condition did not keep me away from her, now with the opportunity to see her face light up. Overall, I would estimate that I spent 60% of my time with Angelica. Sure it got a little boring sometimes. But looking back now, it was the ordinary hours spent just holding a child that made the experience so extraordinary.
A lot of what I just described- the naps, the avoiding Angelica for a little while- comes off as kind of selfish to me. But I'm portraying what went on. One of the things I had to learn, or let go of was my perfectionism. For the first few days, I was straining myself, wearing a fixed smile, trying to force myself to take in everything and experience as much as possible. But that was a barrier I was setting up, keeping me from any genuine experience. As soon as I let that down, allowing myself to be imperfect, to even tend to my own needs, I actually had something to give the kids. By halfway through, I had let down my guards and had become thoroughly attatched to all of the kids. The kids didn't care if we tried to use them to sleep. And if I wasn't holding Angelica, someone else was, most of the time. All that mattered was that the kids were still being loved, and I was actually enjoying the experience.
Well, I enjoyed it when I wasn't sick. And I did get sick- several times. The week before I left for Honduras, I had a rather substantial nosebleed. I had ridden my bike that morning, in the cold, so I thought maybe my nasal membranes were just dried out. But I don't think that, with Honduras' climate, dry membranes would be the cause of the two nosebleeds I had while I was there. The first one came on the sixth day (fifth morning) I was in Honduras. I woke up with a fever, and shortly thereafter, my nose began to bleed (and continued for 15 minutes). I didn't go to the center that day; hardly ate anything either (a tortilla at breakfast and a glass of juice that night). I stayed home the next morning as well, with a small bout of diarrhea. But I went to the center that afternoon, to escape my acute case of boredom (I had resorted to read my spanish/english dictionary and compute math problems(!) to distract myself and pass the time). The great thing about kids is that if you sit down, they will come. (apologies to the writers of Field of Dreams) I did not feel like picking up a kid. But I didn't need to. One climbed up in my lap all by herself (Lita, of course). I miss that. I was sitting under a tree yesterday after school, and I realized that no one was going to sit on my lap, join me, or even bother me. (I had slowed down enough after school to actually revert back to my Honduran mindset) The relationship I had with the kids was a very physical one. I cared for their bodily needs. They slept on me, walked on me, hugged me, hit me. They reached out and grabbed my physical body, paralleling the way they reached out and touched my heart. (sorry. I'll try to keep the cliched language to a minimum) But I digress. My second nosebleed was January 13, the day after Angelica smiled (my favority day). It happened at Jeff, the peace corps guy's house after we had finished our game of basketball. Again, I believe I got overheated, causing the nosebleed. This one lasted for at least a half hour, so Profe came and took me to a doctor. I got a vitamin K shot in my left arm. Also having a throat infection (which I had been complaining of for a while as a sore throat), I got amoxicillin and ibuprofen to take for 3 days (obviously not a full cycle that would actually make me all better, but it was free of charge, so I got more than what I paid for). I also got tested for Dengue fever the next morning (with a blood sample taken out of my left arm), which was negative. (Dengue is like the flu, except it lasts for a month.) The pills would have been no problem, except that I still can't swallow them. Luckily I had brought a huge jar of peanut butter from home with which to choke down the pills. After that, I made it home without any more trouble (except a stomach ache on the last morning), promptly getting sick for a week upon arrival. Four days of school missed is not a good way to start a new semester. I don't advise it. But I again digress.
The other kids' names, of whom I have yet to talk, are Enyer, Sonia, Wendy, Julia, Fabricio, Josue, Oscar, Efran, Dunia, Kenia, Santos, Javier, Maydi, and Carlos. The only other kid I'll talk about right now is Efran.
Efran was a bitter, bitter kid. He was very sick- lots of congestion, a sore on his ear, a constantly running nose. Sean (one of the other 5 classmates who made the trip with me) worked with him a lot, and when Sean wasn't around, I did too. Efran was such that when you held him after a while, he would just start to cry for no apparent reason, but when you set him down, he cried even more. Basically, he was uncomfortable. He certainly looked uncomfortable (his shirt never fit over his big bloated belly), and his actions were consistant with being uncomfortable. He was very high-maintainence. But even so, he did show a lot of improvement. Partly due to the medicine we gave him, the nebulizer mask we hooked him up to, and partly to how much we loved him. He, too, reached the point where he smiled and laughed, even crawling over to be picked up (as opposed to his usual state of sitting in the same place on the floor for hours at a time, looking miserable). And he got comfortable enough that he was even able to take a few naps with me, laying on my chest. Oh, how my chest aches now at the absence of a napping child.
The center may be going through some big changes for the better, as reported by Profe. After we left, a doctor has been coming on a regular basis. Jeff, the the Peace Corps guy, and Azita, the Worldvision nutritionist, are now very active in the center. And the board of directors may even hand over the reigns to the Church, which would greatly increase the involvement of the community with the center. So there is hope for the future.
And while the sting of returning home, being torn away from my friends, has eased, it is still difficult to continue on, almost being forced to forget about what happened most of the time in order to focus on school. If the classes I am taking this semester weren't so good, I don't think I could bear to think about how the kids are spending their time now, largely alone, and how I could be spending my time differently, back there with the kids, holding them and sleeping. It was an amazing month, and I am so grateful for it. I'm sure there'll be more I want to say later, but this is a good start.
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