Tulip Fest

Yesterday we went to the Tulip Fest in Woodburn, Oregon with Heather and Daniel.

Either Bruce is thinking about those sexy tulips or that elephant ear calling his name from the tent (the one that Ann dropped as the cashier said, "Careful, it's hot!")



Death comes to us all...


Their manhood is not defined by those tulips in the background.

Little did they know, the tulips would provoke some deep reflection.

Bruce: "It goes like this, Daniel. 'Beat it, no one wants to be defeated. Show 'em hot monkey...."

Daniel: "and all this time I thought it was, 'Beat it.....Show 'em how funky.' Interesting. "

Ann: "How much longer do we have to look at these flowers?"

I was trying really hard to be serious and serene for this flower-sniffing photo.
Ann: "Stop making me laugh. I'm trying to smell this flower."

Bruce: "Just pretend like it's cocaine, Ann."

Ann: "You're not helping."

Our Wordy World

It's Saturday morning, and I feel like I've been run over by a train. I woke up, made my coffee, tried to be spiritual, and a rather foul mood got in my way. Somehow all these factors combined have produced a reflection on my time in China.





China was the place where I found my place in life in a sense that transcends geography, job description, and the great Now that dominates our compulsions and bombards our senses with a relentless, cluttered commotion and white noise. Nouwen once said that we live in a wordy world, a place where words are so abundant that they lose their power if not born out of some measure of personal silence and solitude. Silence, he says, teaches us how to speak in a world dominated by words. And not only that, silence also teaches us how to embody that which we speak. I am a listener and a writer. I don't talk like I write. I internalize and chew on words until I am able to articulate the picture in my mind. I've never been much of a talker, and my observation is that today I think we have too many people who want to proclaim truth with borrowed words and borrowed substance. Ancient forms of contemplation and prayer are too often viewed as a waste of time in our "you-are-what-you-produce" society.

China taught me how to sit still and listen to a divine voice and rhythm that resides underneath all the commotion. I think we all sense it from time to time whispering, "There's more to see than what you see" or perhaps "there's more to these words than the cliche they have become." So we search for new words in an effort to capture and partake of a deeper reality.

In some mysterious way I think this greater seeing is intricately tied to self introspection. The capacity for freedom from an existence numbed by society's superficial white noise will not be granted without the relentless eyes of honesty. Maybe at this point I discover my own unique design and learn to inhabit it, and as I do I also discover God's true face and learn to embody it as well. I have a long way to go, but I am on the path. Sometimes I run, sometimes I stroll, and sometimes I just sits.

And now for a story from China:
http://anns-muse.blogspot.com/2009/12/countdown-begins.html

R is for Reno

For your viewing pleasure, I have some photos from our recent road trip to Reno.

This face says.... Well, I can't say what this face says because this blog is rated G.


Mt. Shasta, you take my breath away, kind of like that 80-mph wind at the rest stop in Weed. Weed as in the town in California not the substance. What kind of trip do you think this is? Sheesh!



Living in rainy Portland produces individuals who tend to forget what sunglasses are for. This photo was taken at Pyramid Lake at the Indian Reservation.



Note to self: If Bruce is driving the bus and you want to make record time, make sure Matt Munger is riding shotgun. Under ordinary circumstances Bruce has always been the consummate speed nazi rarely exceeding the speed limit. On this trip, however, I had to do 80 to keep up. I'm so proud, baby. *tear* (p.s. Bruce, I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense about my led foot. Ok lover?)



Kelly and Bruce scheme about how many fliers they can force us to pass out before Saturday.
Kelly, I loved having you as my roomie during this trip. I especially enjoyed our long late night talks and excessive laughter. That 15-hour drive together exposed many things, my favorite being that I found someone to sing through the entire Thriller album with. You did an amazing job planning our trip.



Silver Legacy Casino in Reno. Desperate times.....



...call for desperate measures.



Grateful to travel to with such a fun group!

Friday

It's Good Friday. I don't generally have any rituals commemorating this day or Easter other than going to church. I kind of wish that I did. One year we watched The Passion and I almost had a total meltdown. I don't ever need to see that again.

One year I participated in a Passover meal with some college friends. The meal was led by a Jewish man and the students volunteered to cook all the dishes. Not only did I not know anything about cooking at the time, what in the world did I know about anything "kosher"? Knowing me I probably looked the word up in the dictionary before we started cooking. Needless to say, our carefully constructed casserole concoction avalanched onto the kitchen floor about 10 min. before dinner started. With no time to start over, we did what anyone would have done (however blasphemous it may have been). We scooped it off the floor back into the pan and served it. I know. Awful. I'm sure there was some deep spiritual lesson to be had about how we try to keep things kosher but somehow wind up eating food off the kitchen floor.

Ireland prohibits the sale of alcohol on Good Friday. Eastern Orthodox Christians fast on GF. Some English countries serve hot cross buns. (I'm not sure why). Germany haults comedic performances and public dancing in some areas of its country. Bermuda, however, is my favorite. They fly colorful kites in the shape of a cross and talk about Jesus' death and ascension to heaven.

When I have kids (some doubt this will ever happen), I think we will spend GF eating hot cross buns and flying kites together. Maybe this doesn't sound super-spiritual. That's probably because lately life has felt more like that casserole on the kitchen floor. Messy. I know that many people spend today concentrating on Jesus' death and the horror of his execution. And I admire these people. I've been one of them.

But this year is different. This time last year my mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I used to work for a medical company contracted with hospice. When my mother was diagnosed, I flashed back to all these people I had watched die a slow death and felt comforted that I knew something of what was ahead, but at the same time felt terrified that I could not stop something so horrific from happening to someone I loved so deeply.

I lived in Florida for two months while my mother went through some major surgery to remove her tumor. As it happened, just after Easter, the doctor told us that her tumor was not cancerous and that it had actually saved her life by encasing a ruptured appendix. I felt numb. Something about facing the reality of death with my mother made me value life in a whole new way. I decided at this point that I had been sad and depressed for too long. There were things in my life that I regretted and wanted to change, and emerging from this darkness afforded me the opportunity to make things different. I lost weight, forced my introverted self to connect with several of my friends I had drifted away from, I cleaned out junk rooms when I returned back home, and learned to lighten my load in a zillion other unmentionable ways. I traveled to India, which is something I had wanted to do for years and never had, and there God breathed new life inside me all over again.

Now here I am a year later and though my inner life feels kind of messy right now, I see God moving in me and all around me breeding life in places I would have labled as dead. And so while I have no ritual to celebrate Good Friday or Easter, I feel new inside and this makes me want to eat hot cross buns and go fly a kite.

But it's raining outside so I may just have to settle for the hot cross buns. In fact, I don't really feel like cooking, so I may just eat a cinamon roll and drink a cup of coffee while I read the paper. It will be the most spiritual cinamon roll to ever grace my lips. And I will thank God for all the good and messy things in my life that remind me of his great grace.