There is a porch on the back side of the SIU student center. At 7:00 in the morning this porch is very quiet. That is where the revolution has been taking place. If you didn't know it was there, you'd have missed it. The fuel of this revolution: a pleasant blend of Seatle's Best coffee. The tangible results of this revolution: a crumpled up NYT crossword and a runny nose.
Dr. Huggenvik begins biology lecture today. I'm excited about this class for the first time this year.
The swine flu is here. I think alot of kids are using it as an excuse to stay home from school. I know I would have when I was 10 years old. Sure, there were 160 kids absent from a local school last week. . . just like there will be 200 absent on the first day of shotgun season in a month or so. Now, we (as a country) are running out of medicine to treat it. Ridiculous. . . we're so wasteful.
Take care,
The Revolution
Monday, October 5, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Retreat
No longer being bucked and billowed by a stormy sea, I feel like a boulder in a sand garden, slowly settling into the proper place. . . the locus of balance, harmony and freedom through disciplined self-enslavement.
I don't know exactly why we are where we are at this time, but I feel certain it has to do with learning a lesson about service and the value of serving no matter the size or aim of the effort. I don't necessarily feel passionate about our church or its primary missions but perhaps that's the point.
Perhaps I'm still immature enough that a better spiritual environment would mislead and distract me.
In the meantime, I DO envy the emerging church people. . . it's a well intentioned movement on the whole and though I'm sure there are weak points, they think alot. That's more than most can say.
I don't know exactly why we are where we are at this time, but I feel certain it has to do with learning a lesson about service and the value of serving no matter the size or aim of the effort. I don't necessarily feel passionate about our church or its primary missions but perhaps that's the point.
Perhaps I'm still immature enough that a better spiritual environment would mislead and distract me.
In the meantime, I DO envy the emerging church people. . . it's a well intentioned movement on the whole and though I'm sure there are weak points, they think alot. That's more than most can say.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The reset button spoke up today
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/26/education/edlife/26medicalschool.html
Phenomenal article!
A university education (specifically in the sciences), by its nature, directs an individual toward formula and pre-determined structure and away from any ability to create.
The reason: I'm not sure. . . probably too many to name
It is a developed and mature human being who can see past this structure to find an art in education.
I'm not sure that I'm that person. . . yet
Passion
This is why we do what we do. Without passion, there may as well be no purpose; for a purpose that does not encite passion is no purpose worth having.
How to channel passion into a daily life?
Routine is my enemy
Every moment is sacred and so should be embraced with unending passion, reverence and joy. It is a fantastic gift to be given each moment and all that is sacred within it. It is a far more rare gift to be able to appreciate this.
What am I passionate about? I recite it every day. . .
The pressure I put on myself was related to an overcoming of passion by the immature desire to prove something or to succeed.
Success is doing what my purpose demands of me with the passion that it deserves.
Phenomenal article!
A university education (specifically in the sciences), by its nature, directs an individual toward formula and pre-determined structure and away from any ability to create.
The reason: I'm not sure. . . probably too many to name
It is a developed and mature human being who can see past this structure to find an art in education.
I'm not sure that I'm that person. . . yet
Passion
This is why we do what we do. Without passion, there may as well be no purpose; for a purpose that does not encite passion is no purpose worth having.
How to channel passion into a daily life?
Routine is my enemy
Every moment is sacred and so should be embraced with unending passion, reverence and joy. It is a fantastic gift to be given each moment and all that is sacred within it. It is a far more rare gift to be able to appreciate this.
What am I passionate about? I recite it every day. . .
The pressure I put on myself was related to an overcoming of passion by the immature desire to prove something or to succeed.
Success is doing what my purpose demands of me with the passion that it deserves.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The Fat Kid On the Other End of the See-saw
I don't want to participate in the cliche mumbo jumbo but at the same time, I don't want to neglect an open, free and unashamed relationship with Jesus.
I've been hiding from my brothers and sisters. I don't want them to see me.
Why can't it just be me and the strangers. I feel more comfortable with them.
Is that wrong?
I would like to find a balance. . .
. . . a way to operate in and not of.
The words just keep getting me all tangled up. They won't stop coming - like the last level of Tetris, right before "game over."
I keep getting close but the words keep repelling me with magnetic force as inherent as the charges of water molecules. I can't change them, I can't avoid them. . . they wash my desire to partake in the Kingdom away like the greasy remains of tonight's dinner.
That fat kid just keeps laughing. I don't want to play with him anymore, but who else is there?
I've been hiding from my brothers and sisters. I don't want them to see me.
Why can't it just be me and the strangers. I feel more comfortable with them.
Is that wrong?
I would like to find a balance. . .
. . . a way to operate in and not of.
The words just keep getting me all tangled up. They won't stop coming - like the last level of Tetris, right before "game over."
I keep getting close but the words keep repelling me with magnetic force as inherent as the charges of water molecules. I can't change them, I can't avoid them. . . they wash my desire to partake in the Kingdom away like the greasy remains of tonight's dinner.
That fat kid just keeps laughing. I don't want to play with him anymore, but who else is there?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
A Sacred Moment
I slowed my pace as I reached the worn patch of grass that had been my home for the last few innings.
I thought about the fact that this may be my last game this year.
I smelled the grass, the dew.
I peered through the glow of the outfield lights to see the stars watching overhead.
There are few things better than this moment.
I sunk my hand into the wet leather of my glove, smelled the leather, felt it form to my hand as I pulled the velcro strap tight.
I looked over at my teammates. Are they experiencing this moment too?
The light fog, illuminated by the lights reminds me of the shekinah glory. If this isn't the presence of God, I'm not sure what is.
We lost the game, but my soul was pulsating with absolute joy for the rest of the night.
Perhaps its the legacy of an athletic tradition. . . gladiators and swordsmen subjecting themselves to physical hardship for the sake of a game, edifying no more than a metaphor with no less than their own sweat and blood.
Perhaps its the legacy of my own fathers. . . baseball, an American tradition - three generations gathered around a citronella candle, the AM radio hanging upside down at just the right angle, Jack Buck, in his excited mutter, describing the feats and failures of our heroes.
For whatever reason, in that moment, on that field, on that night, without glory, without pomp, without pretense --- baseball was sacred. And it allowed me to play too.
I thought about the fact that this may be my last game this year.
I smelled the grass, the dew.
I peered through the glow of the outfield lights to see the stars watching overhead.
There are few things better than this moment.
I sunk my hand into the wet leather of my glove, smelled the leather, felt it form to my hand as I pulled the velcro strap tight.
I looked over at my teammates. Are they experiencing this moment too?
The light fog, illuminated by the lights reminds me of the shekinah glory. If this isn't the presence of God, I'm not sure what is.
We lost the game, but my soul was pulsating with absolute joy for the rest of the night.
Perhaps its the legacy of an athletic tradition. . . gladiators and swordsmen subjecting themselves to physical hardship for the sake of a game, edifying no more than a metaphor with no less than their own sweat and blood.
Perhaps its the legacy of my own fathers. . . baseball, an American tradition - three generations gathered around a citronella candle, the AM radio hanging upside down at just the right angle, Jack Buck, in his excited mutter, describing the feats and failures of our heroes.
For whatever reason, in that moment, on that field, on that night, without glory, without pomp, without pretense --- baseball was sacred. And it allowed me to play too.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Art Is the Fuel of a Revolution
I ignored music for a while.
-not just music. . . art.
Maybe it's cliche but it keeps me in my place.
-re-evolves me.
-not just music. . . art.
Maybe it's cliche but it keeps me in my place.
-re-evolves me.
- "Institutions, systems, ideologies, and all the vain, futile efforts of humanity that go with them are everywhere, and interaction with all of it is unavoidable. . . be inside or outside all kinds of systems and move freely between and among them. . . be in it and not of it." - William P. Young, The Shack
- The systems are designed to gain power over that which may not be controlled by man.
- There is music in my face --- a soul affected by the music
The music of daily life is worth attention.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Some More Revolutionizing
Where to begin?
where - to - begin?
I knew I wanted-
no
-needed to become a doctor as the gunshots went off at my grandfather's funeral.
As much as I want to deny that that was the turning point, the moment of decision, I can not do so.
That's not to say that his death is what has brought me to this point, but rather just that it was the spark, the initial force behind it.
What has sustained me from that spark to this point? Certainly, the idea of legacy carries me daily as do the principles of the Kingdom.
As yet mostly undeveloped is a good sense of responsiblity to humanity.
That's all for now,
The Revolution
where - to - begin?
I knew I wanted-
no
-needed to become a doctor as the gunshots went off at my grandfather's funeral.
As much as I want to deny that that was the turning point, the moment of decision, I can not do so.
That's not to say that his death is what has brought me to this point, but rather just that it was the spark, the initial force behind it.
What has sustained me from that spark to this point? Certainly, the idea of legacy carries me daily as do the principles of the Kingdom.
As yet mostly undeveloped is a good sense of responsiblity to humanity.
That's all for now,
The Revolution
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A Rainy Sunday Afternoon
A rainy Sunday afternoon always brings about weird things. Long, drowsy naps, sports on the television, unwatched NASCAR on the next channel and an end to my blogging haiatus. Actually, what brought this on was not a rainy, Sunday afternoon but the revelation that my Dad and Step-mother have discovered The Revolution. (don't tell anyone, but I'd kind of forgotten it existed)
I'm resolving to repurpose the revolution over the next few weeks.
More to come. . . (maybe)
I'm resolving to repurpose the revolution over the next few weeks.
More to come. . . (maybe)
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