Duality of beard, board and decision making

Last Saturday night after the Vintage youth group gift exchange, where I scored a coconut, which I plan to survive on next time I get stranded on a desert island by breaking it open on the sharp corner of jagged shore rocks, I headed with Whitley, Joe, Ryan and Wendy to the steep sledding slope behind JRP on KU's campus. We only had two plastic roll-up sleds between the five of us, so sharing and caring was practiced generously. This night is notable for a few good reasons beyond the beauty of the powdery playground and graciously displayed heavenly bodies of the night sky.

Some people may think I'm obsessed with beardedness, but I assure you, I am not growing it anymore only to indulge my beardoholic tendencies, but it's shifted to man vs. self battle and man vs. man battle of pride. As my departure for Ecuador nears, I eagerly await reuniting with new friends from California. Bryce (a bearded elder) and I are having a beard race, so to shave now would be facial hair mutiny. The other and fresh reason for continued growth goes beyond the mere aesthetic design and all around visual appeal of a beard that stops the hearts of many, as I have now experienced the true functionality of this natural protein protection. During the sledding, the heels of my boots would occasionally clip the snowy tundra in front of me, shooting a spray of soft ice into my face.

please consider the following interview to understand more fully.
"Face, were you cold?"
"No, it was as if my chin follicles had planned this protection from the very beginning. This natural scarf was a shield to the elements greater than any purchasable product... which is why when I do shave I plan on selling my beard on ebay."

As the night went on and I fully understood that my face was warm without the aid of synthetic devices, joy abounded. It was assurance that I need to keep this going at least until after the climb up Mt. Cayambe. I have now appreciated catching ice in my beard through experience, the only way to truly know something.



Ryan Miller and I stumbled across a plank (2"x 6"x 10' perhaps) painted with orange and white stripes to grab the attention of drivers to alert them of a closed road. This road block guard rail was more than we had ever known. The thing just lay stagnant, silent, in solitude, while sledders did their party hop-slide down the slope. Ryan and I picked it up and almost instinctively and simultaneously thought "road block toboggan!?" We had our doubts but carried it eagerly to our group. No one thought it would work, but I didn't care what we thought, so with my usual dictatorship-style leadership, I commanded everyone to board the toboggan. Joe, volunteered to man the front, slipping one of the plastic floppy sleds under to help keep down bow-end friction. All five on board, we pushed off and glided, smoothly, with a clear destiny of reaching the bottom. Coming to a stop after what seemed like hours of gliding, we rose, beaming with confused surprise, high fives bringing our hands together in unity of newness, and friendship of shared accomplishment. So simple, yet so awesome.

Unplanned for maximum smile marks.

Which is abstractly related to something I've been exploring lately. Reactive versus proactive. Every emphasis in our culture of careers and cash, insurance and security, comfort and complexity, screams for proactive habits. This kind of American "life" demands our planning for everything just in case. If life is just covering bases to avoid danger, count me out, I'm dead to that, as Christ called us to pick up our crosses, he did not mean Blue Cross and Blue Shield. Carrying your cross, dying to yourself isn't about being proactive. Of course it's not necessarily about being reactive either, I'm just being reactive to the overabundance of proactive behavior. As if planning can save us. Having goals, hopes, dreams and plans are good. God is developing my passions even more as I seek, and I'm thankful for that. Planning and saving money for a specific purpose is important, my point is just that we should take the act of being reactive out of the bad light that it's in.

A definition I found for reactive is "readily responsive to a stimulus." To be reactive is to allow emotion. Because the stimulus is often times a surprise, the reaction can be any range of expression. Some synonyms of reactive are conscious, keen, receptive, understanding, aware, responsive, soft-hearted. A couple antonyms are apathetic and insensitive.

Thus, be reactive and proactive. After all they go hand in hand. If you react to some kind of negative circumstance, it is hopefully a proactive decision for the future to avoid that negative situation again. If you decide to be proactive and begin a retirement fund, it's probably a reaction to respected instruction from a loving friend, or fear.

Reactivity and proactivity are not actually contending against each other; these entities work together. The important thing to think about is what core emotion motivates your decisions. Fear or love?

Let it be love.

Experience it.

Love casts out fear. Road block toboggan rides do too.

Even He-Man needs God

I was reading psalm 88 the other day and a beautiful intimidation struck me. Important to note the auther of psalm 88 is He-Man.

Psalm 88

A song. A psalm of the Sons of Korah. For the director of music. According to mahalath leannoth. A maskil of Heman the Ezrahite.

1 O LORD, the God who saves me,
day and night I cry out before you.

2 May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.

3 For my soul is full of trouble
and my life draws near the grave.

4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like a man without strength.

5 I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care.

6 You have put me in the lowest pit,
in the darkest depths.

7 Your wrath lies heavily upon me;
you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.
Selah

8 You have taken from me my closest friends
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;

9 my eyes are dim with grief.
I call to you, O LORD, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.

10 Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do those who are dead rise up and praise you?
Selah

11 Is your love declared in the grave,
your faithfulness in Destruction?

12 Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?

13 But I cry to you for help, O LORD;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.

14 Why, O LORD, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?

15 From my youth I have been afflicted and close to death;
I have suffered your terrors and am in despair.

16 Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.

17 All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.

18 You have taken my companions and loved ones from me;
the darkness is my closest friend.

Dang, if He-Man, one of the Masters of the Universe needs the Master of the Universe, sure as my itchy beard, I do. He's got an upper hand, wielding a huge sword, having shining blond hair with well groomed bangs, and enough bulging muscles to take on the evils of the universe, but is still not whole without God. The passionate cries in the writer's place of depression show us that we are not alone in those times that God feels distant; when hope seems to be tossed to rabid scavengers and quarrels live under every breath, we are not alone. He-Man continues to place himself before God, admitting his need, despite his pain and feeling of helplessness. He comes honest and unedited, angry and directionless to the God he still hopes in. What I really admire about this is that despite putting the blame on God for his troubles, he still seeks Him and declares Him to be the God of his salvation. He still admits his need for him, which seems contrary to what many would do in this situation...blame God and leave.

Some stories end before you get to the happy part...doesn't mean it's not coming.

Heman the faithful, thanks for the example.

Adventure Race

The day of awesome had finally arrived. I rushed through some work that needed to be finished at the office and squirmed out early at lunch time to get ready to head to Fayetteville Arkansas with Fletcher and Leigh for the Lewis and Clark 18 hour adventure race. The beloved family met us at Fletcher's where we packed up the car and truck and headed south. Louis, Dad, Mom and Patty were our support crew for the race, transporting bikes and equipment to the next transition areas and providing both word and food style encouragement .

All the teams and support crews were crowded into the big white tent to get information about race start time and location for the next day. The announcement hit, followed by a gasp and a quiet caucus of chatter among teams.

12:01am start time! So much for sleeping.

We headed to our reserved hotel that we wouldn't be using to get everything ready there, then caravaned with everyone to the race start location out in the middle of some woods on some private property of which the owner "told about 150 rednecks they couldn't hunt there today" since it was the first day of hunting season...so, with orange race tanks on, we began the adventure in the woods, in the dark. I ran the first half mile-ish loop to pick up the map and checkpoint instructions. On the way back, running with 31 other people on a gravel road, we heard horses suddenly galloping along next to us. The powerful hooves packing the ground and the heavy breathing of the beautiful creatures stood my hair on end.

The race required us to calculate points with a UTM plotter to locate the checkpoints by the latitude and longitude on the provided map. Using map and compass, the topographical lines as reference, and a couple hints from other teams, we nailed every check point correctly. During the first leg of the race, we were biking around in the dark woods on some trails and through fields, even bushwhacking at times to find our targets. A puppy ran along side us as we were traveling back to the transition area, he was leading the way in floppy-eared cuteness. The next section was on foot back in the same area of the woods, which for me was much more enjoyable, since half the time, the bikes were more of a hindrance in those conditions. We also did some night climbing.

My lowest point was during the mystery event at 7:00 in the morning. We had to build a raft out of 3 blue barrels, 3 planks of wood, and 3 thin ropes, then get all of our gear, including bikes, and ourselves across a pond. After watching a few teams' rafts fall apart in the water, I became more and more hopeless. Especially after one team made it half way, and dumped everything in the middle of the pond, losing one of there bikes for awhile. Fletcher tied the knots and did a great job on this sections, but once we got on the well build raft, it flipped because it was not balanced...I guess. Leigh's corner went up, my corner went down, and Fletcher slipped off the back. Bother Leigh and I were completely soaked...We drug the raft out and decided to move on. I was worthlessly chattering and shivering for about an hour as we rode. After warming up, I navigated the rest of the that bike leg...It was great...riding along dirt and gravel roads through tunnels of amazing fall colors and overlooking rolling hills of gracious pigment variety. Those were some of the most peaceful and beautiful times during the race. There were a couple of intersections we stopped at to determine which way would be faster, when a loud whistle came from a nearby house...we looked over and saw some friendly plaid and overall wearing locals, chuckling and pointing the right way to go. It was a good laugh. At the end of that section we arrived at the transition area, were refilling water and food and getting ready for the next trekking and the canoing stages when a little baby (walking style) came up to me and reached up in the air toward me. I couldn't resist, picked him up, and we talked about politics for a little while, then I gave him back to his mother. That was definitely a highlight. This kind of race can have you experiencing an amazing range of emotions, from hopeless frustration, to the calm peace of a still autumn day and happy baby.

The canoing section was fun and tiring since we had to portage our canoe about 50 times over low water currents, beaches, and logs. I was getting pretty drowsy on the river. As the sun began to set again and we realized that we would be canoing through on the lake in the dark, a new sensation of calm came over me...I looked down and saw the reflection of the trees in the twilight, which was beautiful and relaxing, then Leigh spotted an owl perched high in a tree over the river. These memories even now feel a little foggy. I remember wondering if I would fall asleep in the canoe and fall overboard in the middle of the lake. Thankful that didn't happen. Close to the next check point, we were helped out of the lake and told that the race was over...Only 5 of the 31 teams finished on time. We were all quite satisfied with our performance since we never gave up and were ranked somewhere in the middle at that point. We only had about 10 miles left to run/trek and we would have finished...oh well. Our valiant effort and success by my judgment was rewarded with a BBQ dinner and Michelob Lager. At the after party, Louis informed me that some of the other support crews referred to our team as the team with the bearded man in tights. I felt honored. The rest of the night was a daze of somehow getting back to the hotel, showering and waking up again way to early.

-First time being cold and wet for so long and thinking it may be dangerous. (next time I come across that raft building event, I hope we'll build the raft, and put all of our stuff on it, including most of our clothes, then swim it to the other side, shake off and put on dry clothes.)
-First time picking up a random baby.
-First time staying awake for 40 hours.
-First time peeing in a canoe (we were transitioning into the lake, so it was getting deeper and wider...and I really had to go)
-First time sucking dew of my mustache. A great secondary source of hydration.
-many more firsts that I'm still to tired to think of.















I am so thankful for my family coming to help by being our support crew. Great job Patty, Mom, Dad, and Louis.















I'm proud of my team...Great job Leigh! Especially for your first adventure race. And Fletcher, we would've been lost (quite literally) without you. Thanks for plotting the points and teaching us how. Also thankful for safety. Thanks God, no injuries.

Go team!

Neewollah

The party last night was...as they say...off the hookie?

It was great catching up with old friends, enjoying some craftily crafted costumes and the company of variety...saucy variety. The best costume goes to the claw machine. I met some new people too and had some edifying conversation with new and old friends outside around the warmth of yonder bonfire. Oh caveman, thank you for discovering fire. Tribute to God for the physics and chemistry, and tribute to man for banging rocks together. We are geniuses.

I was really considering staying home from the party because it was cold and it was a 40 minute drive and I could just sit around and be a lazy bum, which is easier, but I said to myself... "hell no. Get up and go!" Then this awesome phat beat started pumpin' through the ears of my mind and began flowin' through my veins and overtaking my very ability to be still. My legs started twitching and and convulsing to the rhythm of my heart...to the rhyme of this time...to the spontaneity of this soul. Groove on sweet love. Groove on.

Music at the house formed a sea of sardines bouncing in time on the weak floor beneath, setting the stage for mass jollification. Outside the scene was chill. Only can you be uplifted in the truth of Jesus Christ, and offered weed within the same few minutes, at a party such as this. The contrast is beautiful.

Toward the end of the night, two girls were trying to make it home, one completely plastered and the other sober, smaller and trying to hold her friend up as she knock-kneed her way down the walk. As they were coming up to some stairs and the intoxication victim was wobbling about like a dizzy ostrich, God smacked my conscience into action. I walked them back to their place, listening all the while to her mumblings of the evening's events that she won't remember when she wakes up. Helping people feels good, thanks God. I ran the 2.5 blocks back to the party to warm up before my motorbike drove me home.

It was my coldest ride yet, at 40 degrees (feeling like 38...feeling like 29). The ride was peaceful, stars shining a clear and familiar comfort overhead. I was reflecting on the people, the passion that some have, the silliness of others, and the beautiful combination that few are gifted with, then my thoughts rambled to Ecuador again, so longing for that time. I flipped on my brights after passing oncoming cars, a green sign came burring by, but I clearly read "Ecuador, next 4 exits." I was so happily confused. Dang Eudora! After awhile everything becomes numb and I start to worry whether I'll be able to grip the brakes hard enough. The mobility of my ankles even becomes restricted, which slows down shifting and back wheel braking. Upon entering the heated interior of my brother's home, my phalanges began to thaw. Thawing is painful...throbbing...livening. My knees stayed cold until I fell asleep.

Epiphany of Awkward

My friend Andrew emphasized how awkward life is during our Tuesday night bible study. Awkwardness is wafting all over this planet. We find it in everything from a poorly executed fist pound or hand shake, to a misinterpreted expression on the playground, to the "important" business meeting that you have nothing to report, to trying to understand the opposite gender. It was great to explore this with the guys during our discussion on the book of Daniel. Life's awkwardness is something that had been reoccurring to me in the recent few months and has started to show itself in a different light. A light of opportunity. Most of the time we don't like to feel awkward, but only recently have I enjoyed awkwardness for what it is. A simple and powerful experience/emotion when feeling out of place.

It seems to want to create fear...on the contrary, let awkwardness bring smiles. We have a choice to let it paralyze us or we can laugh in it's face and thrive on it. Since it is mainly experienced by the combination of our actions juxtaposed to others, awkwardness nags at us to not take a risk, to stay home with fear of failure and looking like an idiot. Do not eliminate this experience that God allows in our lives, but turn that into wings to soar. It may seem like trying to fly with bricks instead of wings, but what do you think the first airplane was made of?...eh? Yeah, that's right.

Daniel had to go and be awkward but he didn't care, so it was actually opportunity acting against the kings request that nobody worship anything other than him for a certain amount of time...

Faith is awkward. Love your awkwardness. Sometimes lions don't eat people.

Ahhh hell no, wassup dawg?

Today I walked my brother's dog. Tally is a middle-aged small black lab mix and when she gets riled up, she does a sort of Bill Cosby dance, waving her paws in the air and spinning around in circles. When she's outside and unleashed, you can really appreciate her acceleration speed as she often performs a wheelie. The torque produced from her back legs is unsurpassed. I was running and walking with this wheelie poppin' unleashed maniacally fast dog when suddenly another dog comes grunting around from behind a neighbors house to visit.

A bulldog. Stout, round and pug-nosed. Drooling everywhere, and even leaving globs of white bubbly spit on Tally sleek black coat, this dog is the epitome of ugly-cute-disgusting-ness. I watched, entertained as Tally ran around this grunt of a four legged creature, almost taunting as it bumbled along after her in attempt to play. I felt bad for her awkwardness and yet saw her beauty, yes, the bulldog is female (I would have assume otherwise except that it wore a pink flowery collar).

I named her Shmuggles.

Shmuggles followed us everywhere despite my encouragement for her to return home. She tried to keep up with Tally, snorting and sucking air all the while. Her rumply skin shifted loosely over her brick-like build as her legs tilted inward and barely bent at the knees. Shmuggles is like a squaty bodybuilder of a dog; pristine awkwardness. Tally and I ran home and as I was about to let Tally inside when Shmuggles caught up and thrusted her nose into the cracked door. The force shocked me, but I held her back.

Tally and I were inside for a bit when unexpectedly, the doorbell rang.

Shmuggles...

And a elderly lady...

"she was following me, and I didn't want her to get to far from home."

"Ummm, Shmuggles isn't my dog."

"Oh...she was right here on your front stoop before she started following me."

We chatted for awhile as we walked Shmuggles back toward the house I saw her come from about 20 minutes prior, and behold, the neighbor, a 30-ish year old man saw her and started bumbling yearningly toward.

"Where have you been! Don't you ever do that again!" He lovingly scolded his dog, then proceed to pick her up and kiss her. Addressing the lady and I "She's never done that before. Thank you so much for bringing her back." Tears were almost flowing. Kiss kiss kiss. Shmuggles was smothered. Hmmm, I felt weird. I told him it was no problem, glad to, she was just one street over, and began to wonder if the dog felt deep shame for being so babied. I was so surprised that someone would be almost hysterical over a dog wandering one street over in a cookie cutter, cul-de-sac, suburban neighborhood. I am sad that Shmuggles has been brought up in a box. A dog running away is difficult though especially with the worry of a nearby highway. It's a beautiful thing that he loves his dog so much, but sheesh, his manliness level just dropped by 8 points. I understand the idea of a dog being man's best friend, because of their loyalty, and I love my dog too, but it's also interesting to think of the contrary.

Some cultures eat dogs.

We kiss them.

Night Flight

Riding back to Fletcher's house last Sunday night, I noticed a new sensation of relaxation and tugging comfort begin forming as I picked up speed on my blue and black radical road rocket. While wearing a full-faced helmet, the only air I feel on my mug is from a small vent that lets wind flow smoothly through and keeps the visor from fogging, but that night was different. For the first time, my beard reached out from under the protection of padding and plastic to ride free and experience the 75 mph wind resistance to live on the edge. He struggled to reach out of his bunker, outstretching the longest of his feelers to allow whiskers to be whisked Mr. Beard reached a new level of living, of experience, of wisdom. A constant pull and release vibration on my chin. Tickle fancy; drug of simplicity.

I enjoy noticing the simple things. The beauty that surrounds our frequently numbed and unaware eyes would reach us if only we could give it due time in the conscious. Being on two wheels at night helps me with that; both motor and pedal style. The fresh and exhilarating autumn night air blesses faces and brings alive the keen olfactory sensors, bringing me into a middle ground of dream and reality, an ethereally esoteric ride of a fine line that keeps me present enough to see deer passing in front yet takes me into a restful sphere of prayer. I thank God. Credit God for the creation of beauty, and our ability to be enveloped in it.

On my pedal-produced passage on Monday night to the Advanced Auto Parts about 8.21 miles away, I passed a lady with a huge “dog.” She stood to the side as I passed on the other side of the sidewalk holding her beast, whose head is the size of a large angry watermelon. The dawg pulled, standing on its back legs swiping the air with its petrifying claws and gnashing, drool-spilling jowls. The fur was short, sleek, variations of dark grey as if designed to be a stealthy suburban stalker. I pedaled faster and thanked God for the woman’s powerful grip on the leash.

The trip was for 10-40 motorcycle oil because the place in Lawrence had accidentally thrown in some 20-50 with the other two 10-40s. I called to be sure this one carried it too. Indeed. Then when stepping down from my steed I inquired and waited. He couldn’t find any 10-40. It didn’t matter much to me, the bike ride was so fulfilling. I asked another guy just to be sure. He couldn’t find it either, then he asked the manager who found it in about 2-seconds. Persistence rewards. Back to the night flight, half expecting to lift from the pavement and glide through the canopies of suburbia all the way “home”.

living in the moment?

Nope.

I have a confession.

I'm living for tomorrow.

The present is slipping by with rare notice and little expectation of beauty. Everything is so simply complex. This strange balance of developing and prodding my dreams while living and participating in this very minute of life, and having an appreciative realization of where I've come from, is difficult. I have the "I'd rather be..." syndrome. It is strange though how I don't feel utterly discontent, just feel like I'm ready to escape this "greener on our side" grass. I feel very blessed to have the job I have right out of school. It really could turn into a great career if I were interested in climbing the ladder in the corporate video field (especially since they just got the go ahead for the new studio space to be built and finished by February, which also includes all new equipment), which would only be the case if I were in dire need of supporting an income inhaling, consumeristic family unit, which I am thankful I don't have yet. For now...

"Get me out of here on dove wings;
I want some peace and quiet
I want a walk in the country
I want a cabin in the woods
I'm desperate for a change
from rage and stormy weather."
psalm 55:4-8 (the message)

In context of this passage, David is of course tired of running from people trying to kill him...however, these words rung true for my incomparably pathetic situation as well.

Rage indeed.

As I was riding through the cookie-cutter neighborhood of suburbia-land, trying to navigate my way to the highway to get to work, I suddenly realized I had left my sunglasses inside... My eyes feel like they have huge holes scorched through them and my forehead and brow muscles ache from the downward anger scowl I held for 40 minutes attempting to shade my vision. It was fine at first, but really started to irritate me. Then I began to notice my clutch getting looser...gotta get that fixed soon. Upon arrival at work, my grim facial slant was stuck. I realize my silliness now, but in the moment of fury, I feel so justified. I don't like yelling explicatives in general and especially not while wearing a dome over my head that amplifies and reverberates my export of sound.

I get to stare at the sun on the way home too. Yay!

I'm over it.

Last night was the first Bible study with my pals Andrew, Isaac and Greg. We're reading through Daniel, and even after the first couple of chapters we really took a good lesson from him, seeking God and God's faithful response. He is who he is and is able to interpret King Neb's dream because of God, and Daniel fully and humbly gives Him credit.

"he reveals deep and hidden things;
he knows what is in the darkness,
and the light dwells with him."
(Daniel 2:22, ESV)

I had a realization in the word "dwell." As a metaphor, if we dwell with light (the things that dwell with God), we too will dwell with God. But, if we dwell with darkness, we are eluded by our own spirits that we are unseen, yet He know what is in the darkness.

It was great to spend time with some guys in similar situations. We have that common bond of not knowing what is next in life. The painful ambiguity that so many honest early twenties feel. Our joy was multiplied by an ice cream run, in which my lucky, pre-sun-scorched eyes caught the glimmer of hope for ice cream as we know it... Peanut Butter and Jelly ice cream.

Divine.

Tonight I'll put a chopped up banana in it, after Into the Wild that is.

Fletcher and I are going to see Into the Wild, which will only fan the flame of urgency...that this life was meant for something more. The reason we're going...I kept blabbing about this movie to my co-workers down in the basement/office and Darian showed me that three radio stations were giving out passes for the movie if you registered online. We both submitted our e-raffle ticket to all three stations during our "lunch" break and thought nothing more of it, until a few days later (monday) when Darian gets off his cell phone:

"Guess who just won two tickets to Into the Wild!"

I gave him an excitedly jealous high-five and moved back to my desk to mourn.

(20 minutes later)

"Guess who just won another pass for two to Into the Wild!"

"you jerk!" I said jokingly while truly being amazed at his luck/blessedness. I was indeed happy for he and the three friends he would take. Seriously I was. The next day he tossed, onto my desk, one of the passes for two as he walked into work... Such a nice guy that "Evil Darian" (nick name from long ago).

My aim today...live now and focus on the positive things of this life gift.
Phil 4:8

There's psalmthing I want to tell you

Slowest work week yet, but I'm not here to talk about the job; so clear your mind of anything cubicle related, sit back. Stop thinking about those beautifully awkward break-room conversations, relax. Expel your thought of windowless offices, stretch out, and dwell no longer on the reverberating raucous of fax machines, laser jet ink printers, copiers, telephone jingles, and the stressful thread of things to do. My things-to-do thread sounds similar to group of murderous cacti moseying along interstate 70 while wallowing in the yesteryear of the avant-garde jazz scene.

Fletcher and I were coming back from our trail ride and run last night, talking about our upcoming adventure race and I had a strike of genius… We were talking about the need to plot points on the map so we would need a straight edge to mark the appropriate destinations, and a ruler naturally came to mind first. Of course, an 18-inch, sharp-cornered, metal object jutting out the top of a back pack, while riding, running and climbing, is safe. People do it all the time. After a semi-gruesome thought of mr. straightedge cutting into the back of the carrier’s neck on a nasty trail wreck, I began searching the frontal lobe for healthier alternatives.

String.

We’ll simply stretch the soft and safe multipurpose strand to a taut length and tada!...straightedge. I love whipping out MacGyver skills.

Rad verses inhaled today:

Psalm 85:10-13

Psalm 86:11-17

Excitation of energy levels is arising from plans to start hanging out with my friends Andrew and Isaac for a small group/bible study.

My feet are getting itchier every day…my scalp too as the season gets dryer…but my feet (they know my heart well) may just start dragging my logical “wisdom” into the adventurous unknown of anywhere. I love that God is so ambiguous at times with his plans for us; makes me realize my further need to trust Him. This summer has manifested a groaning growth of wonder (and wander) lust. A soul breaching desire for adventure inspired by recent input such as the book Into The Wild by John Krakour (can’t wait to see the movie), the Summit Adventure team, the Banff Mountain Film Festival, certain scriptures (Matt.10:9-10, Matt. 11:28-30), people I’ve met on travbuddy.com (like thenomadlife), couchsurfing.com, a cell phone text message from people in need, mountains calling my name, new cultures beckoning, and this burning urge to not look back on this life and realize that I didn’t allow God to make it all it could be in Him.

I was at a lunch meeting awhile back and my co-workers were giving the parting intern his due advice, like not to drink in college (since he wasn’t of age) but to “have fun because it really is the time of your life.” The adviser then started listing of reasons like “you don’t have a mortgage, kids…” etc. etc. etc… I mulled over that thought and dreaded it being true for my life. College was great, but no way am I getting stuck in this corporate rat race to have the biggest and best whatever, though I'm excited to someday have kids. I felt sad for the exuding normalcy.

Oy, writing this out is pushing the desire to hop on my motorcycle and ride to Montana to work as a ranch hand for a month, then swing down to Florida to help at an alligator farm, then buzz over to California to be a wilderness instructor, then zip across to the Adirondack Mountains in New York to work with youth in outdoor experiential education, then toss myself into a boat heading to Madagascar to work with endangered animals and build houses for the ones who can’t and earn some extra cash as a motorcycle taxi, then meet George the airplane pilot that may not even exist, and fly to Australia with him and get my first flight lesson along the way, then box some kangaroos, dance with some locals, pick up an awesome accent while learning to cook in the outback, then fly back to California, meet up with Justin (thenomadlife) for the final leg of his exodus biking back to the Midwest….

Yeah, that sounds nice.

Problem… $... or is it? I could just get jobs along the way when I need too, if you know me, you know that pinching pennies is a skill… I seriously want to do something like this, but it’s also scary and I would miss my family…

Other reasons I want to go: Matt 12:48-50…Matt 6:25…Matt 10:38-39…Matt 19:29-30

I think Jesus was a couch surfer... Matt 8:20

Rebuke me friends,

Love,

Colin

p.s. just checked my email...a Peace Corp inquiry "interested in learning more...?" why yes, I am.