go fly a kite

I did not wake this morning, or any morning for that matter, thinking "I should buy a kite today" or pondering how enriched my life would be if only I owned a kite. And yet, there I found myself this evening in the check-out line at Costco with a kite in tow. Confession, I do tend to divert my path past them on each visit to the store to check out the latest assortment because they stock some really nice ones, and while my dad has a cool collection, the sport has never been of much interest to me. However, after spending part of a blustery afternoon driving around some of the city's few remaining green spaces observing the array of colorful sailing kites, I couldn't help but want to be amongst the lot, feet planted yet an extension of myself soaring, delighting in something as simple as the wind. Perhaps it was the rare exposure to fresh air that messed with my thoughts but I'm now the owner of a rather cool kite awaiting assembly. I actually can't wait to give it a try, though waiting I shall indubitably have to do as there isn't likely to time for kite flying until after the holiday. So, if you too are a resident of this fair city and ever find yourself with the overwhelming urge to go fly a kite, just let me know. I'm sure I'll need to be held accountable to actually using it, but I think it could be fun.

paper hearts are easily cut

The four years I have spent in Taiwan have seen the increasing popularity of Western holidays. On Christmas weekend I already observed heart shaped boxes of chocolates on display at a local supermarket. This week it was heart shaped Doritos appearing next to the left over Christmas tree shaped ones at the corner 7-Eleven. Guess everyone is seeking their niche in the upcoming commercial holiday, however, the homemade apparently still holds a place. Today, courage was mustered and an opportunity seized as I was presented with a heart by a fella I won't be seeing for a month. In the last seconds of class I was approached and sheepishly bestowed with a paper heart. Ha - kids are so funny sometimes!

chasing after the wind

I've recently been borrowing and working my way through a few seasons of Seinfeld. In one particular episode, 3 of the friends sit at a diner table eating and contemplating what it is they should be doing with their life at that very moment rather than what they're actually doing. I must say I've wondered the same, especially recently. And thus, the series promoted as the show about nothing got me thinking about the growing nothingness that seems to be filling my days between the hours of waking and sleeping. While there is never a lack of busyness, is there an increasing lack of substance? Is my recent relative contentment with life a sign of acceptance or resignation? Have I been without stimulation and challenge so long that I'm starting to regard the absence of such as relaxation instead of stagnation?

It's true that life lately seems to have reached a certain state of balance. My general contentment with where I am and the current state of things distracts me from future planning. So again I'm at odds with myself debating and contemplating the root to what appears as a lack of motivation. Is that really it? Is the drive gone or have I been simply finding simple joy, seizing it, allowing it to sustain me, and observing a shift in how I approach life because of it? Work last week brought this new idea into light.

Lately, I've found that I've been enjoying my job, or at least moments of it, and it almost makes me sad. I've been glad for the opportunity to be teaching because I feel it's likely to be very different from whatever I find myself doing next and as such, I consider this time in my life a gift to be doing what I'm doing right now, even though it feels like I'm not doing much at all.
Last week I spent a sunny yet chilly blue skied morning at the park hanging out with some of my school's youngest tots. Somewhere in the midst of chasing kids up twisty slides, having imaginary races on rocking zebras, playing monkey-in-the-middle, and marveling at the fast retracting leaves of the touch-me-not's we'd batted, I suffered one of those simple joy moments where I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, as silly and meaningless as it was, and I found myself filled with joy.

I've been experiencing a new found joy in my close friendships as well. The joy has not been found in what we do but simply in being together. I can, at times, get so caught up in activities or being productive that it's somewhat of a new thing for me to spend time with someone that I know wasn't wasted despite not doing much of anything. It's just hanging out - perhaps some are chatting, reading, napping, playing piano or computer games, grading papers - whatever, but it's choosing to do something I'd normally do alone in the company of others. Just being there with friends oddly matters though no perceived meaning in it can be found. It would appear that I've gotten around to installing some windows and doors in my walls that can be opened from time to time letting the outside in and I've found joy in not only making myself reachable to close friends by in reaching out to them.

And so I wonder, is meaning overrated? Do we wear ourselves out trying to justify our decisions by attaching meaning to what we do so we don't feel our life has been a waste by the end of the day? At house church, we welcomed the new year with an impromptu reading of mine and Rick's favorite book, Ecclesiastes. Nothing like chapter after chapter of meaninglessness and chasing after the wind to fill one with hope for the new year, yet I can't help but love Ecclesiastes, as defeated and solemn as it leaves me.

It is encouraging that detached from seeking meaning, one can still experience joy, a joy that cannot be found by seeking but obeying. Yet, there's aways the wrestling between what is, what's wished for, and what's expected. Heavy is the heart that doesn't want what others want for me, that realizes it doesn't want the things it once used to, that knows choosing one thing inevitably means giving up another. Despite age and experience, the choosing doesn't seem to necessarily get any easier. Through the years, a friend has, with impeccable timing, given sage advice providing exactly what I need to hear in the moments I need it most. He once passed along this advice:

As young Christians, discernment is largely about deciding between what is right and what is wrong. But as you mature as a Christian, the decisions we face deal more and more with choosing between what is good and what is best.

And that is where I seem to get stuck, in discerning between what's good and what's best. There has definitely been a shift in the way I approach/view/handle things over the past few months. I'm curious as to whether my increased encounters with experiencing unexpected joy are the result of choosing something better or rather, am I so infinitely off the mark that even something that's merely good strikes me as much better than it actually is.

Time and travel have a way of changing things. With the upcoming Chinese New Year holiday, I'm about to spend some time away. I realize that I'm unlikely to feel the same way about things when I return so perhaps God is simply granting me the moments of joy I need to have right now so that returning is something I'll still want to do. I don't know.

the golden life

On occasion, my hearing just isn't what it should be. I miss words and parts of conversations intended for my audience. No worries though, my mind quickly springs into action, filling in the blanks with what it thought it heard, which is usually something wacky and not at all like what was said. At work, such occurrences provide the occasional amusement and entertainment for students. Not only is the challenge before me to understand what students are saying though accents, poor grammar, and limited vocabulary (at least in the earlier stages of learning a foriegn language) but a number of kids are just so quiet in their responses that my mouth quickly blurts back some ridiculous sentence that it sounded like they were saying when indeed, I know they were not. Such a response is primarily for the sake of comedy but has helped a few times in lightening situations and drawing kids out of their shells.

With adults and peers, however, things can be a bit more tricky. For some reason, in these situations my natural reaction is to try to fake that I've heard and understood all that has been said, and typically a few seconds or minutes later, my brain catches up and pieces together what was actually said or asked. And then . . . there are those rare times when it doesn't. Times when my foolish ears, even after much repeating, can't properly hear or make sense of what is being said. Such is the case with "The Golden Life."

Once upon a time in a country far, far away, I grew up spending a week of my summer vacations attending or assisting my church's vbs program. At that point in time, my church offered classes for youth through Jr. high age and it was in such a class, full of friends and peers, that I was forced to face the fact that somewhere between my ears and brain I couldn't comprehend what was being said.

I recall that some other obligation prevented me from attending on Monday, the first day of the program. On Tuesday, I was there and glad to be spending some extra time during summer break with my out-of-town friends. The youth pastor was in charge of us older lot and probably after playing a game or doing some sort of fun activity, we had gathered, seated in a circle for the lesson. Whether things began this way or eased into it, I'm not sure, but at some point the youth pastor asked for everyone to share their goal in life. Simple, right? Except for what I heard was that we were asked to share our golden life. What the heck was a golden life? Ok, I know I missed the first day, but could I be out of the loop that fast?? Going around the circle, it looked as though I'd be one of the last to answer - whew! Surely I'd catch on by my turn.

Sadly, sadly, no. When the responses reached mid-circle, I could feel the panic beginning to settle in. I was already the out-of-town kid at that church, I certainly didn't want to stand out any more or look like an idiot, but I still had no idea what was expected of me. Without drawing attention, I tried to extract an answer from my friends sitting nearest me. Golden life, golden life! - it's all I heard! Finally, it got to be my turn and I gave in. I could no longer carry on the charade - I didn't have a clue what was going on, even after sitting through about 15 teens sharing their goals in life! What is this golden life? What if I don't have one? What if I don't want one? Oh, the pressure! I'm sorry but I wasn't here yesterday! Who knew vbs could be so hard?

It didn't help that people's answers ranged from the serious - to become a dr., to the humorous - to meet an albino person. I had to cave and ask for an explanation of this mysterious golden life. I must say, even after knowing I was to share one for my goals in life, my panic did not quickly subside. I don't know why but I've never really been one to set many goals, at least not in the conscience sense of formulating them and verbalizing them, though there are certainly things I would like to achieve and accomplish in life. And so, I needed to be skipped and given even more time to think. What I came up with was traveling. I'm pleased to say it's a goal I've been meeting which places me in the same success circle as the gal who went on to become a dr. and the friend who finally got to see her albino.

After my first trip abroad a summer or two later, my goal to travel evolved and expanded into a goal to also one day fill my passport and need more pages added. This very week, I have at long last seen that goal come into fruition. I know it's silly, but sometimes silly is all I've got or at least what I need the most in a life that's already so full of the serious. And so, I've met my goals from Jr. high. Life would seem complete. I can now die a happy woman. Or, I suppose I could always set a few new goals. A new golden life? Here comes that panic rising.

soundtrack to my life story

(a.k.a. filling the lull)

the basics for the unfamiliar:
1. put your music player on shuffle and hit play
2. press forward for each question
3. use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn't make sense


opening credits:
sunday morning - no doubt

waking up:
oceanside - the decemberists

first day at school:
lost - pricilla ahn

falling in love:
welcome to the black parade - my chemical romance

breaking up:
like paper cuts - mew

prom:
photobooth - deathcab for cutie

life's okay:
postcards from italy - beirut

mental breakdown:
hands open - snow patrol

driving:
nobody knows me at all - the weepies

flashback:
hello - schuyler fisk

getting back together:
disillusion - badly drawn boy

wedding:
pandamoranda - lovedrug

birth of child:
a smile that explodes - joseph arthur

final battle:
glittering cloud - imogen heap

death scene:
may i have this dance - copeland

funeral song:
kissing the lipless - the shins

end credits:
come on! feel the illinoise! - sufjan

Wishing You Peace in the New Year

Take a hike

Despite late night celebrations, several friends and I decided to start off the new year with a hike. Outdoors yet within the city, we set our sights on a seaside hiking destination that requires a bit of climbing in spots. We managed to rise above the city smog to find a blue sky.

(mt. view of Kaohsiung harbour)

While the city does boast a mountain appropriately nicknamed Monkey Mountain, we were surprised to be joined by several primates previously unseen along this particular hike. They were for the most part non-pesky, though not at all fazed by our presence.

(Formosan Rock Macaques)

The reward for the tiring hike lies at the top in the form of a giant banyan tree with great extending branches just right for climbing and playing, and naturally, that's what we did. Visits to the tree usually find me dreaming of the possibilities for a Swiss Family Robinson style tree house of my very own. Until that day, I'll be resting my head in a bed in a tower of concrete.

it's all fun and games til Peter and Jane go up in flames

Okay, so it's still fun then too.

To welcome the New Year, a friend hosted her second annual New Year's Eve chili eating, game playing, effigy burning bash. This year's crowd was a bit different from the previous year but still an entertaining mix of Americans, Canadians, Brits, South Africans, a Taiwanese, a few dogs, and a kitten too.

As part of our tradition installed at last year's gathering, we had a midnight effigy burning at the park. This custom originates from the childhood traditions of our Ecuadorian-born American in the group. Though a far cry from the explosives stuffed figures that dominate the streets of Ecuador New Year's Eve, our own special creations manage to raise curiosity and a few eyebrows.

It's customary for the effigy to represent a person or symbol of the old year, especially one you'd happily leave behind. Political figures are often used but we decided to shy away from the ample number of candidates in that circle. Instead, we decided to improve upon last year's generic man in a poncho by selecting not one but two figures near, yet not so dear, to several of us - Peter and Jane. Most of us in attendance teach from Peter and Jane books daily, the British equivalent of Dick and Jane readers. What a fitting symbol of something we'd like to leave in the old year. Jane was my handiwork, while Peter was the result of a collaboration by Becky and Rick. Here are a few pics from the evening's festivities.