You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)
You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.
But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.
Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
City of Clocks
In the far East of Europe, in a land that was once the heart of Bohemia, is a city of clocks. There are clocks mounted on red roofed buildings, clocks to tell the season, a clock to count the stars, a room in city hall with a crinkled old man paid to watch a crinkled old clock. Oaken clocks, granite clocks, brass clocks, crystal clocks the color of the Vltava in winter, summer, and spring. Clocks of leaves and crucifixes, a clock of saints and a hundred clocks of sinners.
On every wrist, a ticking clock, sometimes two or three. From these people the Mayan's learned their apocalyptic calender, the Romans their Pagan holidays, carbon atoms learned their half life and God was told 144 hours of work and no more.
It takes 11 minutes and 56 second to walk from Our Lady Before Tyn across the Charles Bridge. Takes 3 minutes and 12 seconds to sip a warm cappuccino. It takes 4 days, 6 hours, 13 minutes, and one second for me to realize that I want to go home and no time at all to know that I can't yet.
So I'll watch the clocks count up the seconds, the hour glasses spill sand downward, the sundials fade to darkness, and the season tilt closer to frozen.
On every wrist, a ticking clock, sometimes two or three. From these people the Mayan's learned their apocalyptic calender, the Romans their Pagan holidays, carbon atoms learned their half life and God was told 144 hours of work and no more.
It takes 11 minutes and 56 second to walk from Our Lady Before Tyn across the Charles Bridge. Takes 3 minutes and 12 seconds to sip a warm cappuccino. It takes 4 days, 6 hours, 13 minutes, and one second for me to realize that I want to go home and no time at all to know that I can't yet.
So I'll watch the clocks count up the seconds, the hour glasses spill sand downward, the sundials fade to darkness, and the season tilt closer to frozen.
Lost in Prague
I have no idea where I am, no idea what I am eating, and no idea what this building is used for, but...the lady at the cafe was very nice even though she doesn't speak a lick of English and I don't speak a word of Czech, there are about a hundred old Czech men sitting in a room reading newspapers, and the food is delicious.
All this to say, I haven't found the library I'm looking for, but I am having a great time trying to find it.
All this to say, I haven't found the library I'm looking for, but I am having a great time trying to find it.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
For you
For you
I have dozens of unwritten emails
hundreds of hand written notes penned in invisible ink
a thousand thoughts I cannot speak
My hands are cramping from the writing
Pencil stubs, empty inkwells, and chalk dust have become my closest friends
piled up together as kindling
-in case I can at last send my smoke signals
Because, dear,
I'll find a million ways to break our rules
a ocean full of tricks and traps to fill the silence
But, they will lie in wait.
I will not utter a single word.
I'll bend your laws,
stretch your patience and our hearts
But I will not say I how much I long
For you
Until you ask me to speak
I have dozens of unwritten emails
hundreds of hand written notes penned in invisible ink
a thousand thoughts I cannot speak
My hands are cramping from the writing
Pencil stubs, empty inkwells, and chalk dust have become my closest friends
piled up together as kindling
-in case I can at last send my smoke signals
Because, dear,
I'll find a million ways to break our rules
a ocean full of tricks and traps to fill the silence
But, they will lie in wait.
I will not utter a single word.
I'll bend your laws,
stretch your patience and our hearts
But I will not say I how much I long
For you
Until you ask me to speak
Monday, December 7, 2009
Living with Eyes Half Open
Who are you to think you know injustice?
This question is seldom posed in real life, but is a constant and guilty reminder of my privileged existence nonetheless. It has the potential to say something like "You've never been to a 3rd world country, you've never volunteered in a homeless shelter, you've never lived in a broken home, so you have nothing to say or contribute to the discussion." It also has the potential to downplay the injustice we see around us daily.
Why are women in the Orthodox church met with benevolent and open sexism? Why do we think that those that don't speak our language proficiently are stupid? Why does my being "white" grant me trust? Why is it okay for a man to be aggressive but not a woman? Why are the more intelligent regarded as better people?
Why are there so many homeless in Oxford? Why are there so many homeless at all?
Why do I get advantages while others do not?
You see, I am met with inequality daily. While it may be more subtle and less extreme in some ways than starving in Africa, AIDS in China, and totalitarianism in Uzbekistan, it's here. It's present in the every conversation I have, every place I go to. Let's not play this game of tit for tat, or who has seen the most injustice, who has the worse "war stories" or war stories. Instead, can we just agree that we and the world need help and any attempt to decrease injustice is a step toward that help?
So who are you to say that you know injustice? You are any person living with eyes at least half open, that's who.
This question is seldom posed in real life, but is a constant and guilty reminder of my privileged existence nonetheless. It has the potential to say something like "You've never been to a 3rd world country, you've never volunteered in a homeless shelter, you've never lived in a broken home, so you have nothing to say or contribute to the discussion." It also has the potential to downplay the injustice we see around us daily.
Why are women in the Orthodox church met with benevolent and open sexism? Why do we think that those that don't speak our language proficiently are stupid? Why does my being "white" grant me trust? Why is it okay for a man to be aggressive but not a woman? Why are the more intelligent regarded as better people?
Why are there so many homeless in Oxford? Why are there so many homeless at all?
Why do I get advantages while others do not?
You see, I am met with inequality daily. While it may be more subtle and less extreme in some ways than starving in Africa, AIDS in China, and totalitarianism in Uzbekistan, it's here. It's present in the every conversation I have, every place I go to. Let's not play this game of tit for tat, or who has seen the most injustice, who has the worse "war stories" or war stories. Instead, can we just agree that we and the world need help and any attempt to decrease injustice is a step toward that help?
So who are you to say that you know injustice? You are any person living with eyes at least half open, that's who.
Avoiding Disgust:
I'm going to spend 40 thousand dollars on my education this year. The coffee I just bought cost me about 3 dollars. Collectively I have about 600 dollars worth of stuff with me right now, to say nothing of the clothing I own, the books in my room, and the expensive camera I purchased last summer. In a few days, I'm going to go to Prague on a plane that cost me roughly 250 dollars to fly on.
It's really so easy for me to forget that for 40,000 dollars I could support a family of 4 in a third world country for 13 and a half years. It's easy for me to forget that with the price of this laptop, I could ensure that a single person has the required antibiotics to combat malaria for the REST OF THEIR LIFE.
It's easy for me to forget that while I'm busy writing a blog and researching for an essay on consciousness, one that will likely change no lives besides my own, that in the last minute 4 people died of Tuberculosis. It's easy for me to forget that my privilege has been born on the back of years of war, genocide, and inequality.
It's so easy to forget that when I spend money, I am making a conscious choice to participate in that continual inequality.
The reason I forget so easily is because the more I dwell on it, the more disgusted I become with my education, my laptop, my work, my living. I can quickly become so disgusted that I'm paralyzed, afraid to continue doing the work I need to be doing, uncertain of what I can be doing to help and whether any activity to help actually means anything when faced with the colossus of inequality.
So instead of becoming disgusted, I evoke a conscious amnesia and simply forget. Because drinking coffee is so much better than thinking about poverty and death.
Tonight I'll try a different tact, lest I become like so many bloggers, like so many idealistic men and women my age. Tonight, I'm going to list 3 practical things I can be doing to interact with inequality today.
1)Begin recording how much money I spend on things for one month. At the end of this month, go through the list to determine what money was poorly or unnecessarily spent. Take 10% of that and invest it in microfinance opportunities.
2)Research and volunteer for women's shelters, homeless shelters, nursing homes, schools, or refugee serving organizations in Seattle when I return.
3)Make the conscious attempt to smile at people where ever I go. One can only imagine the psychological benefit for both I and the recipient.
This list is weak, but it is a start and more importantly, it is doable. In the case of 1 and 3, it requires little extra effort on my part. In the case of 2, it gets me involved and acting in the situations I claim to have care for.
It's really so easy for me to forget that for 40,000 dollars I could support a family of 4 in a third world country for 13 and a half years. It's easy for me to forget that with the price of this laptop, I could ensure that a single person has the required antibiotics to combat malaria for the REST OF THEIR LIFE.
It's easy for me to forget that while I'm busy writing a blog and researching for an essay on consciousness, one that will likely change no lives besides my own, that in the last minute 4 people died of Tuberculosis. It's easy for me to forget that my privilege has been born on the back of years of war, genocide, and inequality.
It's so easy to forget that when I spend money, I am making a conscious choice to participate in that continual inequality.
The reason I forget so easily is because the more I dwell on it, the more disgusted I become with my education, my laptop, my work, my living. I can quickly become so disgusted that I'm paralyzed, afraid to continue doing the work I need to be doing, uncertain of what I can be doing to help and whether any activity to help actually means anything when faced with the colossus of inequality.
So instead of becoming disgusted, I evoke a conscious amnesia and simply forget. Because drinking coffee is so much better than thinking about poverty and death.
Tonight I'll try a different tact, lest I become like so many bloggers, like so many idealistic men and women my age. Tonight, I'm going to list 3 practical things I can be doing to interact with inequality today.
1)Begin recording how much money I spend on things for one month. At the end of this month, go through the list to determine what money was poorly or unnecessarily spent. Take 10% of that and invest it in microfinance opportunities.
2)Research and volunteer for women's shelters, homeless shelters, nursing homes, schools, or refugee serving organizations in Seattle when I return.
3)Make the conscious attempt to smile at people where ever I go. One can only imagine the psychological benefit for both I and the recipient.
This list is weak, but it is a start and more importantly, it is doable. In the case of 1 and 3, it requires little extra effort on my part. In the case of 2, it gets me involved and acting in the situations I claim to have care for.
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