Summer language school is accelerated. A lot. It's not one but two semesters of Greek or Hebrew squeezed into about six weeks. This has been, so far, a good way for me to learn. I like it very much. There's a side effect to that acceleration: it works the same way in our social lives. I think I anticipated this in some vague form, but I had no clue what a blast it would be. I use the word "blast" both in its slangy form to mean "a really fun time" and in its closer-to-literal form to mean "an explosion, a sudden movement, a momentary unleashing." "Whirlwind" would be appropriate as well.
We do this because some of us are scared (not me, not really), all of us are starting anew, for a few days we were a little bored and unmoored, and since class started we've embodied the "work hard, play hard" mentality. Friday afternoons we are as restless and frightening as caged animals, and when we load up the cars to go wherever we go, or pour into someone's apartment, the energy is frenetic and loose and fast and wild until Sunday evening when the Greek students buckle down to study. (Hebrew doesn't meet on Mondays, but we also begin to wind down about then.) We talk over movies and over each other. We make ourselves known in church. We are unignorable. We travel in packs. We are well matched in darts. We learn from everything, and we are always thirsty and we are always full. We have so much steam it takes three days to let it off, and then we have none for four.
During the week, the pace is smooth and almost lethargic in the best way. There is yoga and swimming and groceries and a series of foods I aim to eat each day and each week. The classroom is cold and the breaks are long. My stack of flashcards will soon be as tall as my hand, the long way. The rhythm in which we gather and disperse is like a slow and reliable breathing. Everything shines, but it does not hurt my eyes. When I felt sad for the first time since moving here, I said to myself, "Oh no, reality is setting in," but then I said, "That is not reality. The new reality is this." My cup overflows with joy and peace and freedom from fear and friends and health and love.
There's a Hebrew word you say when you drink coffee with someone. It means not only "thank you," but "forever and ever," as in, "May this state of affairs last forever and ever. We are not being chased, we are not at war, we are not starving, we are enjoying this together and we would like it to last." Unfortunately, I do not actually know the word. But that is precisely how I feel. May this last forever and ever. Amen.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
A Word about HP
And you can probably guess I'm not talking about Hewlett Packard.
I started reading the Harry Potter books on a trip to the beach with my family. I must have been in 7th or 8th grade (maybe 6th?), but Mom read chapters to me and John before bed. No one else knew about the book, really. It still had British spellings, and I loved the starry display font, which I copied over and over like a monk. Those first few books were sweet. Just adventurous enough, endearing, heartwarming. Once they caught on, we congratulated ourselves on having been among the first to know. The books started getting more scary and grown-up, and then came the movies. When the first movie came out, it was almost exactly as I pictured it: the colors, the visual style, the characters.
Last night, I watched the last movie in the series. My new friends from seminary went as a group. It was very good, perhaps in part because I'd forgotten many of the details and even major plot points. The acting and/or directing had clearly improved since #4, which I watched last weekend. But more than the movie itself, I'll remember the experience of watching it, the collective "oohs" and "ahhs," the swells of laughter, the sniffles in the dark. These moments have their origins in the earliest fireside storytelling, which was probably about what happened on the hunt that day and, like HP, may have involved fangs and fire. Ever since then, there's nothing like a good story heard in good company to make a person feel just right.
I have my issues with the series. The resemblances to Lord of the Rings are almost embarrassing at times. It's frustrating that made-up magic has limitations (as in, "Why can't you just do a spell and end the suspense?"). The intricacy, while stimulating, is also sometimes exhausting. I have a lot of muggle blood that makes me scoff and say the whole thing is stupid and childish. But my heart softens when I think of the collective enjoyment of this series. I've long thought that TV and books and movies were part of the collective consciousness Jung talked about, because we can meet someone for the first time and find quite a bit in common based on such things. I'm happy that I'm the right age to have Harry in my world. I'm happy that the series is so successful. And I'm thrilled that young children will continue to read, there and elsewhere, about risk and reward, loyalty, sacrifice, bravery, and the deeply moving truth that, in the end, the good guys always win.
I started reading the Harry Potter books on a trip to the beach with my family. I must have been in 7th or 8th grade (maybe 6th?), but Mom read chapters to me and John before bed. No one else knew about the book, really. It still had British spellings, and I loved the starry display font, which I copied over and over like a monk. Those first few books were sweet. Just adventurous enough, endearing, heartwarming. Once they caught on, we congratulated ourselves on having been among the first to know. The books started getting more scary and grown-up, and then came the movies. When the first movie came out, it was almost exactly as I pictured it: the colors, the visual style, the characters.
Last night, I watched the last movie in the series. My new friends from seminary went as a group. It was very good, perhaps in part because I'd forgotten many of the details and even major plot points. The acting and/or directing had clearly improved since #4, which I watched last weekend. But more than the movie itself, I'll remember the experience of watching it, the collective "oohs" and "ahhs," the swells of laughter, the sniffles in the dark. These moments have their origins in the earliest fireside storytelling, which was probably about what happened on the hunt that day and, like HP, may have involved fangs and fire. Ever since then, there's nothing like a good story heard in good company to make a person feel just right.
I have my issues with the series. The resemblances to Lord of the Rings are almost embarrassing at times. It's frustrating that made-up magic has limitations (as in, "Why can't you just do a spell and end the suspense?"). The intricacy, while stimulating, is also sometimes exhausting. I have a lot of muggle blood that makes me scoff and say the whole thing is stupid and childish. But my heart softens when I think of the collective enjoyment of this series. I've long thought that TV and books and movies were part of the collective consciousness Jung talked about, because we can meet someone for the first time and find quite a bit in common based on such things. I'm happy that I'm the right age to have Harry in my world. I'm happy that the series is so successful. And I'm thrilled that young children will continue to read, there and elsewhere, about risk and reward, loyalty, sacrifice, bravery, and the deeply moving truth that, in the end, the good guys always win.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Lundi Links: Sweet Charity, the Animal Edition
Lundi Links is back after a long hiatus! I'm sure you've been wringing your hands over its unpredictability.
Today's theme is animal-related causes you can donate to or just learn about. First, we have HeroRATS, who use their super-smelling to seek out landmines, tuberculosis, and more.
Then there's the Carolina Raptor Center, which I never visited even though it was just steps from my door at Davidson! Not literally, but it was pretty close. They take care of injured birds and do education work. Similarly, Carolina Tiger Rescue is taking care of the big cats right near Pittsboro. Pretty cool, huh?
I completely understand when people say resources should go toward people before we worry about animals, but I want to highlight these organizations because, well, it's just cool. The next one, the big one, is not part of that argument because it uses animals to help people. Presenting The Heifer Project, my all-time favorite charitable organization! I wanted to work for them abroad after college, but it turned out they only employed locals. Let down as I was, I couldn't complain. Of course they should! That way, the people who are running the operation know the area, the land, the people, and the customs, and there's less of that icky white-man-coming-in-to-fix-things feeling. Plus, that job means much more to a poor local than it does to some post-college ne'er-do-well who wants an adventure. Seriously smart move, Heifer.
The organization, also called Heifer International, provides animals to communities who make proposals to them. That way, Heifer doesn't dictate what the community needs; they decide what will work and how they want to go about it. All the animals are used for something sustainable, like milk or wool or honey or eggs. They range in size from bees to elephants. The first animal donated was a heifer (a cow that hasn't had babies yet), and the recipients ate it. Understandable! They were hungry! But it's sort of a give-a-man-a-fish situation, and Heifer is all about teaching them to fish, so to speak. Since then, they make sure to train all recipients in how to take advantage of the animals' gifts over the long term.
I worked at Heifer's educational farm in California for a few weeks (my consolation prize for not being able to go somewhere more exotic), during which my admiration for the organization grew and grew. I really want to write a book about Heifer someday, possibly combined with other humanitarian projects that work really well and make sense.
You can be a volunteer at one of Heifer's farms in Arkansas or Massachusetts (I believe the Cali one has closed or transitioned to some other use, but I could be wrong), either on a live-in basis or as a local who comes in during the day. If your Christmases or your friends' birthdays have been a little "eh" on the gift side, think about giving donations in honor of someone, to Heifer or to any organization. I personally love picking out animals that someone will like. Baby chicks never fail to delight.
When I lived at the Heifer farm, our dining-room table and chairs had been won on The Price Is Right and donated to the center. We had a piano in the house, so I had my parents send me a bunch of sheet music and almost got the hang of "Hey Jude." We had chickens, ducks, geese, a water buffalo, goats, an ostrich, turkeys, a heifer, sheep, alpacas, and a few cats that were unaffiliated with the project. The ostrich, Sweet Pea, was like something George Lucas and Jim Henson would make together. The turkeys sounded like old church ladies at the end of the barn. The goats were my favorite, and I'd love to have one someday. Sheep are really stupid, alpacas extremely aloof, and when all of the animals were together, I got to feeling just a little jealous of Noah.
Today's theme is animal-related causes you can donate to or just learn about. First, we have HeroRATS, who use their super-smelling to seek out landmines, tuberculosis, and more.
Then there's the Carolina Raptor Center, which I never visited even though it was just steps from my door at Davidson! Not literally, but it was pretty close. They take care of injured birds and do education work. Similarly, Carolina Tiger Rescue is taking care of the big cats right near Pittsboro. Pretty cool, huh?
I completely understand when people say resources should go toward people before we worry about animals, but I want to highlight these organizations because, well, it's just cool. The next one, the big one, is not part of that argument because it uses animals to help people. Presenting The Heifer Project, my all-time favorite charitable organization! I wanted to work for them abroad after college, but it turned out they only employed locals. Let down as I was, I couldn't complain. Of course they should! That way, the people who are running the operation know the area, the land, the people, and the customs, and there's less of that icky white-man-coming-in-to-fix-things feeling. Plus, that job means much more to a poor local than it does to some post-college ne'er-do-well who wants an adventure. Seriously smart move, Heifer.
The organization, also called Heifer International, provides animals to communities who make proposals to them. That way, Heifer doesn't dictate what the community needs; they decide what will work and how they want to go about it. All the animals are used for something sustainable, like milk or wool or honey or eggs. They range in size from bees to elephants. The first animal donated was a heifer (a cow that hasn't had babies yet), and the recipients ate it. Understandable! They were hungry! But it's sort of a give-a-man-a-fish situation, and Heifer is all about teaching them to fish, so to speak. Since then, they make sure to train all recipients in how to take advantage of the animals' gifts over the long term.
I worked at Heifer's educational farm in California for a few weeks (my consolation prize for not being able to go somewhere more exotic), during which my admiration for the organization grew and grew. I really want to write a book about Heifer someday, possibly combined with other humanitarian projects that work really well and make sense.
You can be a volunteer at one of Heifer's farms in Arkansas or Massachusetts (I believe the Cali one has closed or transitioned to some other use, but I could be wrong), either on a live-in basis or as a local who comes in during the day. If your Christmases or your friends' birthdays have been a little "eh" on the gift side, think about giving donations in honor of someone, to Heifer or to any organization. I personally love picking out animals that someone will like. Baby chicks never fail to delight.
When I lived at the Heifer farm, our dining-room table and chairs had been won on The Price Is Right and donated to the center. We had a piano in the house, so I had my parents send me a bunch of sheet music and almost got the hang of "Hey Jude." We had chickens, ducks, geese, a water buffalo, goats, an ostrich, turkeys, a heifer, sheep, alpacas, and a few cats that were unaffiliated with the project. The ostrich, Sweet Pea, was like something George Lucas and Jim Henson would make together. The turkeys sounded like old church ladies at the end of the barn. The goats were my favorite, and I'd love to have one someday. Sheep are really stupid, alpacas extremely aloof, and when all of the animals were together, I got to feeling just a little jealous of Noah.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Bluegrass Mass
This evening, I biked to an Episcopal church for Bluegrass Mass. This week it was all Carter family songs, including "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" and "This Train Is Bound for Glory." I felt like I was listening to Dusty and Ace, at an intimate Avett Brothers concert, and a little bit Taize and Seagrove all at once. Tov, tov, tov. Tov m'od. (That means "very good" in Hebrew.) They handed out tambourines for the last song! And I ran into a classmate from The Personal Essay, AKA The Class That Changed Everything. I took it in my last year at Davidson, and without it I never would have thought about grad school for creative writing. So it was tov m'od to see her. And on the way to the church, I saw what appeared to be a family's pool that was open to the community, with an entry booth and everything. There's something really delightful about seeing people walking along the sidewalk with towels slung over their shoulders. Kind of like seeing cars full of adults--I always guess they're going somewhere fun.
Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me comes on at 3 p.m. on Sunday, and This American Life and Car Talk are nowhere in sight. Don't they know the three are supposed to go together, preferably on Saturday mornings? I broke my French press and had to buy another one. Something stung me, and I didn't get a good look at it. I couldn't find any shorts in my size when Old Navy was having a big sale, even looking at two different locations. It feels like I will never know my way around the city. I miss Wilmington and the people there like crazy. I found out I was supposed to sign up for classes, like, a month ago. But a bad day in seminary...pretty much better than any other day.
Ha ha! I knew I got that last sentence, minus the "seminary," from something else, so I just looked it up. Joey said it to Ross on Friends about a threesome. "Your worst day with two women...pretty much better than any other day." So I guess I'm as happy about seminary as some people are about (the idea of) being with two women. But as I was saying, I feel unfaseable. Boundlessly joyful. These things do make me grumpy, but it's like, "Eh. Not that big a deal." Because I'm still riding the wave of novelty and excitement from being in a new place with new people and new routines.
Most of all, I feel satisfied in a way that only living in a big city can make me feel satisfied. Solitary and social, mellow and frenetic, I feel like all my moods are allowed and taken care of when I have so many choices, even if I'm not yet taking advantage of them and don't even know what they are. At the Bluegrass Mass, the overwhelming feeling was of a deep hunger I didn't know I had, finally being satisfied. It's more than just feeling sophisticated and cosmopolitan or watching my calendar fill up with cool things; it feels, actually, like swaddling. There's something comforting about having businesses near my home, people always about but not always interacting with me, being able to walk and actually get somewhere worth going. I'll wish for a change soon enough, but for today, the Dixie Chicks can have their wide open spaces. As excited as I was to come here, I never expected to be this happy. Thank you, God, for this place and this day.
Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me comes on at 3 p.m. on Sunday, and This American Life and Car Talk are nowhere in sight. Don't they know the three are supposed to go together, preferably on Saturday mornings? I broke my French press and had to buy another one. Something stung me, and I didn't get a good look at it. I couldn't find any shorts in my size when Old Navy was having a big sale, even looking at two different locations. It feels like I will never know my way around the city. I miss Wilmington and the people there like crazy. I found out I was supposed to sign up for classes, like, a month ago. But a bad day in seminary...pretty much better than any other day.
Ha ha! I knew I got that last sentence, minus the "seminary," from something else, so I just looked it up. Joey said it to Ross on Friends about a threesome. "Your worst day with two women...pretty much better than any other day." So I guess I'm as happy about seminary as some people are about (the idea of) being with two women. But as I was saying, I feel unfaseable. Boundlessly joyful. These things do make me grumpy, but it's like, "Eh. Not that big a deal." Because I'm still riding the wave of novelty and excitement from being in a new place with new people and new routines.
Most of all, I feel satisfied in a way that only living in a big city can make me feel satisfied. Solitary and social, mellow and frenetic, I feel like all my moods are allowed and taken care of when I have so many choices, even if I'm not yet taking advantage of them and don't even know what they are. At the Bluegrass Mass, the overwhelming feeling was of a deep hunger I didn't know I had, finally being satisfied. It's more than just feeling sophisticated and cosmopolitan or watching my calendar fill up with cool things; it feels, actually, like swaddling. There's something comforting about having businesses near my home, people always about but not always interacting with me, being able to walk and actually get somewhere worth going. I'll wish for a change soon enough, but for today, the Dixie Chicks can have their wide open spaces. As excited as I was to come here, I never expected to be this happy. Thank you, God, for this place and this day.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Ta-Da!
Here I am in scenic, humid, friendly, unfamiliar, bustling Richmond, in my very own apartment, with three Hebrew books stacked in front of me, tummy full of strawberry shortcake (party at the dean's house) and chai tea (that's all me), knowing I ought to go to bed because orientation is tomorrow morning but unable to stop bopping from excitement.
We got here on Friday afternoon with generous help from Luke, Michele, and Tom on the Wilmington end. I overshot the exit from 95, but the exit I did take had signs that led me straight to the seminary. What up! Beautiful strangers helped unpack the truck, and as we returned it to the rental place, we saw fireworks. Mom and Dad spent the night and were very helpful and fun on Saturday. I'm just now feeling settled and able to take a deep breath, with internet connected (that's the "ta-da!"), books bought, pictures hung, and everything in its place for the moment. I have more space than one person really needs, and it's glorious. Five closets, a study, and an extra room that's intended for storage but is the art and reading room.
The neighborhood is stunning. Impressive houses with eclectic lawns, a purple flower I'm not familiar with that smells great, a walking trail just behind us, and I just found out, a gym across the street! I saw the most enticing garden party on my walk the other night. White tablecloths down to the ground, including on the bar. Every direction I go has new nice sights, and I plan to go farther and farther each way until it's not so nice. In a more immediate sense, my place is a prime location for harmless spying. Not exactly Rear Window because all I see of the next building is a brick wall, but I'm all about monitoring the sidewalk.
In eating news, the "New town, new habits" philosophy is going swimmingly. I've been crazy good for all 3 and a half days since Mom and Dad left! Seriously, I think I can keep it up. There are clothes I brought with me that I can't wear at present, in which I will soon look snazzy, because I didn't lug 'em here for nothin'.
I like everyone I've met, I can't wait to meet the rest, and I've even had a visitor already! Heather, my roommate from Wilmington, came by on her way back from her parents' in Maryland. I got to say hi to her pet frog, grab a coffee at Starbucks, and hear about her summer tutoring.
And it was very, very good.
We got here on Friday afternoon with generous help from Luke, Michele, and Tom on the Wilmington end. I overshot the exit from 95, but the exit I did take had signs that led me straight to the seminary. What up! Beautiful strangers helped unpack the truck, and as we returned it to the rental place, we saw fireworks. Mom and Dad spent the night and were very helpful and fun on Saturday. I'm just now feeling settled and able to take a deep breath, with internet connected (that's the "ta-da!"), books bought, pictures hung, and everything in its place for the moment. I have more space than one person really needs, and it's glorious. Five closets, a study, and an extra room that's intended for storage but is the art and reading room.
The neighborhood is stunning. Impressive houses with eclectic lawns, a purple flower I'm not familiar with that smells great, a walking trail just behind us, and I just found out, a gym across the street! I saw the most enticing garden party on my walk the other night. White tablecloths down to the ground, including on the bar. Every direction I go has new nice sights, and I plan to go farther and farther each way until it's not so nice. In a more immediate sense, my place is a prime location for harmless spying. Not exactly Rear Window because all I see of the next building is a brick wall, but I'm all about monitoring the sidewalk.
In eating news, the "New town, new habits" philosophy is going swimmingly. I've been crazy good for all 3 and a half days since Mom and Dad left! Seriously, I think I can keep it up. There are clothes I brought with me that I can't wear at present, in which I will soon look snazzy, because I didn't lug 'em here for nothin'.
I like everyone I've met, I can't wait to meet the rest, and I've even had a visitor already! Heather, my roommate from Wilmington, came by on her way back from her parents' in Maryland. I got to say hi to her pet frog, grab a coffee at Starbucks, and hear about her summer tutoring.
And it was very, very good.
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