Oi, Grad School

A wise friend told me what what she learned from grad school:

1. always put off what you can do today until tomorrow
2. if you can't do it today, then eat a lot of chocolate and eventually it will get done. somehow.

I'm finding this to be true... I'm kind of scared by it, also! Maybe I should just embrace procrastination as a way of life, and enjoy this time, rather than stressing?

If Heaven is Whenever...

(Freecovers.org)

I don't want it.

The Hold Steady's new album, to be released May 4th, is entitled 'Heaven Is Whenever'. Thinking about that title, if heaven is whenever, it is right in this moment, it is in the past (like the Holocaust), it is in death and suffering and injustice.

However, I don't think heaven IS in those things because I don't think heaven is not just a synonym for happiness. I can't hope in a heaven if it looks just like the messed up earth now. I don't want to hope in a God that can't set things right.

I believe heaven is beyond a feeling, it is a place. It is a real place. It is a city. It is a city of the future, a city to come. It is a lasting city, an eternal city. It is a place without tears and sadness. It is a place of feasting. It is a place of complete and FULL JOY, because it is the place where Jesus is and always will be, with his people. It is a place where there is no sun, because the Son shines his light on the people!

Heaven is a reality, not a nonchalant phrase. Happiness is a passing feeling, dependent on circumstance. Not the same thing.

When Finn talks about the album, I get more excited. He says the album is about "embracing suffering and understanding its place in a joyful life. The lyrics speak a lot about struggle and reward."

I totally dig that. But the reward is to come. Suffering is here and now, but it won't exist forever. And that is a reality to look forward to.

blog blah

Most of my thoughts
Pride stymied and then toppling to despair
Back again, back again
Even the ‘my’ is despicable
Should I care about my thoughts; yes
Should I share every thought for everyone’s gaze?
Just because we can do that now
You don’t even need a journalism degree
You are editor and publisher; power
Or waste of time?
Self-expression is self-promotion
In this case,
Pride gawking at the mirror.
I want to smash it.
I don’t want to live in blog world.
But sometimes… I want a break from the real world.
From assignments, readings, confusing interview coding…
So I read people’s blogs and think my own thoughts into blog posts.
And shake my head.
And do it again.

Women, Water, Wonder

Every year, March 8th marks International Women's Day. This weekend has been full of celebrations connected to this day, including a an event called Women and Water Rights.

I attended the symposium (Woman & Water Rights: Global Policy - Local Action) on Thursday and caught two speakers highlighting different narratives within the topic. I've been ruminating on one of the questions asked and the speaker's response.

The question was along the lines of "What is the connection between me and other women around the world, who lead very different lives, and in particular their lives involve so much labor just to obtain water (maybe not even clean) for their families, and we just turn a knob."

For one, you really have to let this question sink into your pores. I wasn't knocked out by it; the experience has been more along the lines of a clamp that gets tighter every round you wind.

The compression has reached a peak; I'm weighed down. Not with guilt, but with a mixture of sorrow and lamenting. Sorrow for their suffering, sorrow for the ease and convenience of my life, and lamenting for the injustice and corruption and the "not rightness" of the world.

I'm weighed down by the beautiful poem that was shared in a response to this thought. The speaker didn't have an answer. She, too, had looked at this question and did not pull out an silver-bullet-development solution. Her poem was full of imagery and carried the same grief.

Maybe it's a grief common to women; even unmarried childless women can share it. I feel like I share in it, as I imagine a Kenyan woman walking 2 miles to gather water and firewood for her family. The grief has a particle of distrust. A particle of anger. A particle of helplessness. A particle of joy. A particle of apathy. A particle of perseverance.

The topic and poem affected me in another way, as I have been working over the weekend taking surveys at a boat show. The survey is for a joint university/state/federal project about public knowledge of invasive species in water as well as boater's habits. There are 7 questions and a blue "shammy" as a thank you. (Repeat xxx times with a smile, and don't take rejection personally).

There are many notable aspects of this new survey experience, but I'll focus on the connection to the topic. Here I am, asking people about their habits and knowledge about water. I'm asking men and women who enjoy water for recreational purposes, and water may also be a big factor in how they make their living. Many of them do not realize the magnitude of the threat of invasive species, and the likelihood that the resources they treasure may degrade from invasive species impact. Yet many people are very responsive and concerned.

Still, water in our lives is at a different than my imaginary friend across the ocean. Water separates us from each other; and yet it is water that unites us all.

I'll conclude this thought with music, another reality that unites us:

"It's the terror of knowing
what this world is about...
watching some good friends scream let me out...
Pray tomorrow - gets me higher
Pressure on people - people on streets....
Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance
Why can't we give love that one more chance
Why can't we give love
Give love give love give love give love
Give love give love give love
And love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves "
-Under Pressure by Queen

Cry out

She went
and she returned.

She has
cried out
in the night
She has
poured out
her heart
before
the One who sees.

We sat circled
and heard
the story
of another
who cried out
mouthed prayers
was called drunk
and yet did not turn over to despair
And when He came
and answered her prayer--
she gave
to the One who sees.

The One who sees
is who we can go to
when we grieve
when there is nothing to do
but pour out our hearts like water
in his presence.

May Christ's death and resurrection life be such a consolation in Haiti,
but also right here and now.