MiTunes 7

Finals are rolling around, which necessitate long strings of inspiring, motivating, non-distracting music (Facebook and napping already eat too much into study time).  If  you’re searching, check out:

LAST OF THE MOHICANS radio on Pandora. 

Prepare for some seriously awesome Scottish bagpipe music.  Keep an eye out for the Royal Scots Dragoon Guard (especially “Hector the Hero.”  Tear-jerker.).  They’re boss.

Three Years in the Making

Almost three and a half years ago, I shirked by hiking pack on a hastily laid tarp at Randwick Racecourse in Sydney, Australia.  I sat Indian-style on my sleeping bag, pulling towards me the four days’ worth of food supplied to each World Youth Day pilgrim awaiting the Papal Mass the following morning.  Packaged rolls, processed dessert bars, canned salmon and vegetables.  The air was surprisingly cold as the sun sank below the stands.  Candles kept vigil through the night, stuck into the sand of the horse track.

A group of African pilgrims approached our camp.  Clad in an American flag cape, our chaperone,  Josh, danced with the group, and we all joined in.  I traded my last long-sleeve shirt for a yard or two of thin cotton fabric: deep green, patterned with the outline and flag of their country.  That night, the entire campsite frosted over:  I pulled out the fabric  and wrapped it close around me, unwilling to regret the trade of my extra layer for this piece of far-away.

Upon my return to the U.S., that fabric found a waiting place in a drawer with my prayer journals, my hallowed things.  Yesterday, I took it out again.  That piece of fabric is patterned with the words, hued in bold red and orange:

“Peace, Prosperity, and Freedom for Zambia.”

I know little of the workings of Fate, Chance, Destiny.  But I have faith in God’s plan for me, and as I await my journey to Zambezi, Zambia this summer, I cannot help but think that the piece of fabric God gave me three years ago has been closer to my heart than I could’ve imagined.  Closer than it was pulled tight across my heart in Sydney.  Closer than it was keeping vigil with my deepest prayers.  Closer than it will be, tucked away in my duffel this summer, as I bring it home again.

       

Giving Thanks

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”

Meister Eckhart

MiTunes 6 – The Avett Brothers

One of my all-time favorite bands.  You’ll see why.                          

 

 

The Candidates

 Here are the nominees for Charity Ball 2012!  Now all that is left to be decided is: What do I feel like saying?:

     1.                                    2.                                   3.                                     4.

1. “Hi.  Yes, I am definitely fashionable enough to pull off these quirky ruffles, this boss fabric, and this oh-so-trendy one sleeve.”

Pair with: tiger’s eye earrings, funky, black sequins pumps, and one of those awesome rings bent out of an antique spoon.  

2. “I know what you’re thinking…I’m pretty much the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.  Understandable.”

Pair with: heirloom pearl studs, understated pearl bracelet, and off-white retro heels.  Maybe with my hair swept up in some romantic, many-bobby-pinned  do.

3.  “Why yes, my stunningly scarlet, off-the-shoulder, 50’s tribute dress was chosen specifically to honor the Frank Sinatra dance theme.” 

Pair with: diamond studs, mom’s diamond necklace (to be kidnapped over Christmas Break), and maybe a funky, patterned heel to keep the whole thing from becoming costume-y.  Although red lipstick might be a go.

4.  “I know that most girls chose patterns or colors because they were  afraid of looking boring in black.  I’m so happy I didn’t have to worry about that.”

Pair with: Indi statement earrings, metallic pumps, maybe curly hair with one of those peacock feather headbands or one with a bow.

MiTunes 5

Peter Bradley Adams – Between Us

Scruple the First

Things to love: scraping the brownie batter bowl, ice water, old photographs, snow days, childhood attempts at story-writing, college attempts at poetry-writing, cotton, sundresses, rainstorms, ice-skating, star-gazing, rosaries, adoration at midnight, journaling on the pier, kissing in the grocery store, driving with the windows down, reading under a blanket, playing fetch in the dog park, cooking over a camp fire, ski socks, family traditions, watermelon, dreams about people you know, coffee at retreat centers, holding a baby until he falls asleep.

Things to lose: criticism, gossip, old birthday cards, regret, pennies, nail-biting, reality TV, double-standards, one night stands, junk food, inauthenticity, syllabi, inhibitions, facades, “keeping up with the Jonses,” corsages, turtlenecks, blush, “emo,” gourmet sandwiches, planned vacations, hopelessness, relativism, skepticism, “love is a fantasy.”

Things that last:  holding hands, playing an instrument, living abroad, reading a book a week, hiking at dawn, drinking tea at sunset, Levi’s, adventure, curiosity, the backyard garden, old movies, mission trips, family recipes, birthday wishes, song lyrics, wedding vows, resolutions, turning points, creek pebbles.

My Globetrotter

 No big deal, guys, that’s just a big chunk of the Great Wall of China he’s standing on.  Only a couple more weeks left before my honey is home!

The Publishing Plunge

I  sent three of my poems in to the creative writing/artistic expression magazine on campus today.  I’ve been putting it off for a long time, but I decided to rip it off like a band-aid and at least give publishing a shot.  So here I am, gently floating three little paper cranes into the turbulent waters of scrutiny.  The likelihood they will quickly be crunched to death in the gnashing jaws of the prehistoric carp called Rejection?  High.  But who cares?  What do critics know anyway?

Untitled (12/6/10)

All corners of the universe charted on a fingerprint,                                                   

All interminable oceans gathered in a thimble,

All Atlas’ weight saddled on the curl of an eyelash,

All ages of men embalmed in a drop of amber,

All loss crafted in a clay jewelry bowl,

All fear in skidding on the packed-down snow,

All grace glowing in a pearl hairpin,

All love in giving an omniscient, comfortable glance.

Everything known and felt and dreamt in a word.  

Grass to Be Walked On (6/2/11)

I wish to know the names

               Of all the vines, and mosses, and clustered alpine flowers of Chautauqua.

And I wish to know the names

               Of all the wheeling birds and hiding beasts in Estes.

And I wish to walk

               Where no trail is tamped down,

               And no man has left broken branches and stripped leaves in his wake.

But instead-

               I stick to the sidewalks

               Along the manicured, iron-bound lawns of Josephine, St. Paul, 
               Observatory Park.

I keep my half-blind, three-year Golden leashed.

               I make him sit at corners.

The street-sweeper scatters the fine dirt of La Plata.

               I look up at the Rocky Mountains

               Grid-locked in telephone wire.

A jack-hammer drowns out

               The thinly clouded morning of a once proud, and inhospitable land.

Tobit Walked with Dog (9/12/11)

               for John and Maddie

We truly mourn the dead when a dog dies.

Soft-spoken, Swiss grandfathers passed away

In nursing home chairs,

Neighbors’ toothy-grinning sisters

In creek drownings:

It is in dog-deaths that the Deluge comes.

It is when our blue-eyed Huskies

Slip through the dog-door

To die amongst boughs of pine

And our Aussies

Shake off their belled bandanas for the last time:

Verily, bereft

Of saintly love and sinless life. 

And when we bury their remains under

Backyard aspens,

Or reverence their ashes in little painted pots,

We know

That in their eyes

We beheld the look of God,

And

In their tail-thumping,

We heard the might

Of angel’s wings.

MiTunes 4

I miss driving down University at midnight.  I miss the volume up and all the windows rolled down.  I miss the Colorado air, that even in the summer carries the chill of the mountains on it. 

“One Day:” The feel-good song (to be sung as loud as is humanly possible)

“Sometimes I lay under the moon

And I thank God I'm breathin'
Then I pray don't take me soon
'Cause I am here for a reason.”

 

 

 

“Passenger Seat:”  The crooner (we all love ‘em)

“I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.”

 

“Madder Red:” The German rave song (as far as Meg and I are concerned)

“Even when my luck is down
I take joy in knowing that our love grows
But if my vices are a burden
Please don't let me off
Cast me from your home.”

 

 

“Polyamorous:” The awesome, angry yelling song   

“Just when you think that you're all right
I'm calling out from the inside
I never hurt anyone
I never listen at all.”