missing sunday surf.

a wee note about florida surf: it comes comes seldom and often when you least expect it. we get weird surf here all the time, but delicious, glassy, peeling swells come maybe once a year. sunday it snuck up on everyone, and no one i know caught it. c'est la vie.

if you operate on a macintosh, you may need to download flip4mac to access the video, which opens windows media files in quicktime. if you operate on a pc, then for once you're ahead of the game. the video is a nice look at our beaches, and at nearly never-seen waves on the gulf coast.

big lagoon, little friends.

on friday night i went camping with my good friend britt and his two amazing boys, baylen (4) and collin (3). it was their first full-on camping experience, and they absolutely loved it. by full-on i mean staying in a tent all night and sleeping on the ground. we didn't hike or primitive camp or anything, but still, it was a big deal.

we gathered firewood, cooked meat over a fire, roasted marshmallows, played cards and went exploring. the boys were happy for their new wool hats from uncle ben, and sported them enthusiastically. my favorite moment of the trip was when collin (younger and blonder) randomly began singing "i got soul, but i'm not a soldier..." while walking by himself. he sang it over and over again, and i almost couldn't contain my delight. i got video of it, but, very sadly, no audio came through with it. other highlights included collin trying in vain to remove an artificial, affixed robin from a bench, and continually referring to it as a 'turkey bird,' baylen writing the names of all his family members in the sand, and hearing both kids say, time and again, "daddy, you know what? i love you."

got me every time.

the trip was also meaningful because britt, his lovely wife marie, and his three beautiful children (baby brooklyn is almost one) are moving after the new year.

they will be greatly missed.

bunches of really terrific photos from the trip can be found here: PHOTOS!

my winter lungs.

1. "Fake Empire" - The National
2. "Extraordinary Machine" - Fiona Apple
3. "Keep the Car Running" - Arcade Fire
4. "Hard Life" - Bonnie 'Prince' Billy
5. "Reckoner" - Radiohead
6. "When a Man Loves a Woman" - Percy Sledge
7. "Green Onions" - Booker T. & The MG's
8. "Tall Trees in Georgia" - Eva Cassidy
9. "OK As Long As You Don't Squeak or Bark or Make Other Animal Noises" - Linford Detweiler
10. "Shelter From the Storm" - Bob Dylan
11. "Travelin' Thru" - Dolly Parton
12. "I Started a Joke" - Kathryn Williams
13. "The Good Hand" - Woven Hand
14. "The Man Comes Around" - Johnny Cash
15. "Amy" - Takagi Masakatsu
16. "Is There a Ghost" - Band of Horses
17. "The Lakes of Canada" - The Innocence Mission

the first noel: dicristina nut brown ale

about six weeks ago i began discovering how fun it was to brew my own beer. i've been anxiously awaiting popping the caps off since then, hoping desperately to avoid skunking and non-carbonation. although there was a trial run with the fam last weekend, tonight was the official uncorking, and the critics agree: my beer is delicious.

i chose the name 'the first noel' in honor of Christmastime and of noel, my Christmassy middle name. also because this was my first brewing. i wish i could tell you all to enjoy, but first you'll have to visit.

czechvar: the new budvar!

there is a beer that i used to enjoy with my good friend olu robbin-coker which is called budvar. i didn't know, until yesterday, that this (the original budweiser) pilsner is sold stateside as czechvar. after years of searching, today i found it in minutes, and i'm enjoying one now. memories of a creole-speaking sierra leonean are dancing in my head.

olu, here's to you, your lovely wife, your beautiful progeny, and of course, to limit x. malibongwe, my friend.

dancing ladies, tired eyes.

sometimes i break down and buy an orchid that is already blooming. i guess i feel that there's less merit in buying a blooming orchid as opposed to cultivating one myself. on the other hand, if it is the flowers that are to be enjoyed, and not only the cultivating process, there's certainly no less merit in the former.
i love both.

this is an oncidium sweet sugar 'yellow king.' these orchids are commonly called 'dancing lady' orchids because of the flowers' resemblance of skirted ladies dancing. it seems this particular dance would include a lot of spinning.

this is a song i've been listening to a lot lately. it's one of my favorites:

Sisters and brothers,
We have surely lost our way.
In strip malls full of cancer,
And a pathetic rain.
And lover, sweet lover
Please don't discipline your hands.
Just kiss me in the morning,
In your dirtiest pants.

We will find our way.

We will find our way.

There is beauty in this land,
But i don't often see it.
There is beauty in this land,
But i don't often feel it.

Pimples are flowers,
Musicians are cowards!
Let's argue in the kitchen,
For hours and hours.
Tomorrow is a travesty,
Tomorrow should be ours.

The soldiers with their specialists
And the pigs with their guns cannot stop,
The lost ones and
the desparate ones and
the driven ones.

The soldiers with their cigarettes
And the pigs with their guns cannot stop,
The lonesome ones and
the desparate ones and
the smart ones.

So come on friends,
To the barricades again.

So come on friends,
To the barricades again.

So come on friends,
To the barricades again.

So come on friends,
To the barricades again.

We will find our way.

We will find our way.


"When we finally cross the barricades
With the angels on our side
When we finally deny all the popular laws
When we finally let doubt and worry die

How will it feel?"

- excerpt from "The Triumph of Our Tired Eyes," by A Silver Mt. Zion

thanksgiving in florida.

so it's about that time to wrap up a fantastic thanksgiving weekend with the family. mark and monica (brother and new sister) were down for the holiday, and we all stayed at the 'rents house for optimal hang time. we played dominos, drank beer, ate food, talked about and watched werner herzog, and prayed together.

in denying my own tradition of never posting more than one photo on any one blog, i offer you these pictures:

linville, gorgeous.

a journal in pictures from my weekend in north carolina.

ode to 1812.

i realized today that i haven't yet shared my new home with friends and family... i do apologize.

the photo above is the bike rack at 1812 e. lloyd st. here in pensacola. i've uploaded a very small handful of photos from the inside of the house here. none of these photos were taken by me, but were taken by residents or then-residents of 1812 over the last few months. as you can see, we have a porch (magni boni), which is complete with rocking chairs and a porch swing (which you may or may not be able to see behind the birch trees on the right). i live with two good friends: casey, and clint, who actually owns the house. the house was pretty dilapidated when he bought the place a year ago, but he has transformed it into a magnificent home. in the first couple pictures you can see clint's parents' maltese, sam, and our beloved house cat lou (more blogging on lou is certain to come in the not-so-distant future). the fourth to last one is my room, and the third to last one is the dock at bayou texar (teh-HAR for those unaccustomed to español) that you can see from our house and is just two blocks away.

1812 is a wonderful house. i've been here since june-ish, and i've loved living with two guys as great as casey and clint. casey, despite mild insecurities tied to the intersection of his social and professional lives, leads a beautiful existence as a marine and is in flight school here in pensacola. casey is extremely normal, and in a sense very anti-military for typical midshipmen (goats, if you will) here. casey and i have become fast friends over the last half-year or so, often enjoying good food, good beer, good scotch, and pente' together. i must attribute the bike photo to casey. clint is a man i admire in many ways: he's extremely modest, though he knows how to do everything, and simultaneously the hardest working and most thoughtful person i know. i'm extremely blessed to be living with such fine people. and brent, we certainly miss you and talk of you often.

today was a lovely day. i woke up early and read the second half of monastic gardens on the porch with a quiet cup of coffee. i then rode frank (one of the cruiser bikes we affectionately refer to as frankenstein, for it was pieced together as such) downtown to church through delightfully silent neighborhoods, drinking in the crisp autumn air. i wouldn't ordinarily consider myself a morning person, but i do love a beautiful morning. the sermon today was about shalom, and how the true jewish meaning for the word meant much more than just relational peace in the 'have a good day' sense that some use today. the priest went on to talk about how, in the fall, we lost much more than just our relationship with our heavenly Father. we lost health and physical wholeness, genuine love for our fellow men and women, and ideals of social justice and equality, among others. in our lives we aim to recover what was lost in a holistic sense: both preaching the Gospel and also reaching out to the sick and lonely, the poor and disenfranchised. dad has preached for years on the jewish roots of Christianity, and he loves the concept of shalom. often i wish i'd have paid his teaching more attention growing up.

just one brief story and i'll leave you be. at the end of the service this morning, i was playing a game with anna, the four year old daughter of my friends glen and jennifer (i really, really need a camera). i found some notecards on my seat, and i would fan them out like a deck of cards as she would draw one at a time and delight at whatever children's scribbles were penciled on that card. it was fun. so after the service, i unlocked frank and began riding away from the church when i heard anna call my name. i looked over and she was running towards me so i screeched to a halt to see what she wanted. she simply, and beautifully, wrapped her arms around my legs and squeezed. we exchanged goodbyes and i rode off untroubled by life.

i've always been struck by how little grown-up people understand children, how little parents even understand their own children. nothing should be concealed from children on the pretext that they are little and it is too early for them to understand. what a miserable and unfortunate idea! and how readily the children detect that their fathers consider them too little to understand anything, though they understand everything. grown-up people do not know that a child can give exceedingly good advice even in the most difficult case. oh dear! when that pretty little bird looks at you, happy and confiding, it's a shame for you to deceive it. i call them birds because there's nothing better than a bird in the world...

at first he used to shake his head and wonder how it was the children understood everything from me and scarcely anything from him; and then he began laughing at me when i told him that neither of us could teach them anything, but that they can teach us ...

(for) the soul is healed by being with children.

- prince myshkin in dostoyevsky's the idiot.

the resurrection fern.

sometimes i'm struck by songs. often i'm struck by plants. in keeping with my unrelenting fascination for plants and what they mean to our lives, i'll share today's favorite song.

this morning i turned on the shepherd's dog, sam beam's latest release as folk phenom iron and wine. in the middle of the album lies a beautiful song called 'resurrection fern.' definitely song of the day (thanks, casey). i just happened to have brother mark on gmail chat, and he directed me to paste's review of the album, where i discovered some interesting biologie about the resurrection fern. it turns out that the resurrection fern is an epiphyte (non parasitic, and does not grow in the ground. like the ghost orchid) that grows on the branches of cypress and live oak trees. it's name is derived from it's ability to survive long periods of drought. when there is no rain, the ferns will curl up their undersides and turn brown, appearing dead. then, when the slightest bit of moisture is present, it will immediately 'resurrect' and restore itself to it's rich green color. with ferns, most water is absorbed on the undersides of the leaf blades, making the resurrection fern particularly clever. these plants can lose almost all their water which is needed to hydrate cells and still survive. botanists have long held that the resurrection fern could go 100 years without water and still revive after just one shower.

there is a line of ancient live oaks about four blocks from my house that have resurrection ferns living on their branches. i wish i could share them with you, but , alas, i have no camera.

it's not hard to see how this remarkable plant can translate into our lives. it's a beautiful thing to ponder, with endless extrapolations, but today i'll let you draw your own conclusions. i'll leave you with mr. beam's poetry.
get the song, if you can, and listen to it while you read these words:

in our days we will live
like our ghosts will live:
pitching glass at the cornfield crows
and folding clothes

like stubborn boys across the road
we'll keep everything:
grandma's gun and the black bear claw
that took her dog

when sister Laurie says, "Amen"
we won't hear anything:
the ten-car trains will take that word
that fledgling bird

and the fallen house across the way
it'll keep everything:
the baby's breath
our bravery wasted and our shame

and we'll undress beside the ashes of the fire
both our tender bellies wound in baling wire
all the more a pair of underwater pearls
than the oak tree and its resurrection fern

in our days we will say
what our ghosts will say:
we gave the world what it saw fit
and what'd we get?

like stubborn boys with big green eyes
we'll see everything:
in the timid shade of the autumn leaves
and the buzzard's wing

and we'll undress beside the ashes of the fire
our tender bellies are wound around in baling wire
all the more a pair of underwater pearls
than the oak tree and its resurrection fern

pay what you will for paste.

so my brother mark works for this great magazine called paste. he's the production coordinator, whatever that means. i'm still not sure what he does there, aside from hosting stella artois and knob creek parties, and watching tivo'd office episodes on flatscreen tv's.

if you've never heard of or picked up a paste, you're missing out. it's a terrific magazine, geared mostly towards music, but also includes articles and reviews about films and books. it's hard to compare it to another magazine, but if i must, i'd compare it to rolling stone. just take a rolling stone, remove the articles that came from people magazine, hire tasteful writers who write tasteful articles, and you've got paste. so, if you like being up to date with music, film, and books, today you're in for a treat. inspired by the unusual release of the latest radiohead album, paste is offering 'pay-what-you-want' subscriptions for the next two weeks. you can get a year's subscription for $1, and give as many gift subscriptions as you like. the general philosophy is that they would rather have ten new subcribers for $10 rather than two people paying $5.

pretty cool, i think.

www.pastemagazine.com

new blogger, new blogs.

so dad has covertly begun not one, but two blogs. at first i was shocked, as many of you will be. once i thought about it, though, i realized that blogging is the perfect outlet for him. he loves to think and pray and write, and he's a good teacher. i'm happy he's started doing this. if for nothing else, it's one more thing he and i can share.

the first one, called dicristina (i agree, dad, such a beautiful name!), is associated with two classes he teaches at Church of the Apostles, but has theological and personal musings as well. COTA is the anglican church where dad has been moseying back into ministry for last several months, and he seems to really enjoy it. the second blog is called the restoration project, and focuses on community bible readings from COTA and is designed to be a devotional.
keep up the good work, pops.

my father is a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ. he is an ordained anglican priest in the diocese of rwanda, a devoted husband, and proud father of three.

he is a good man, and i am very proud to be my father's son.

nation, rejoice!

so the sox have begun their annihilation of the rockies with an emphatic 13-1 thrashing earlier tonight.

i'll leave you to ponder the greatness that will be with this stunning likeness of papi. brother mark sent me the photo. so funny and great.

to love thine enemies.

so i've been having a difficult time at work lately because of a broken relationship with an individual who has made it his mission to intentionally, vindictively, and publicly insult me. honestly, i've never had to deal with someone who i've felt hated me, and i'm quite conflicted as to how to handle my situation.

as a christian, i have long listened to the words of Jesus, from his sermon on the mount, when he taught us that we should love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. this must be one of the most difficult things to do, christian or not. to love someone who despises you goes against every human inclination and social norm. we feel justified in snubbing those who disrespect us, and yet our Savior's words remain: love them.

why is loving ones enemies so terribly, terribly difficult? oh, to be a peacemaker! i have desired so deeply to love my colleague in spite of this breach of relationship, but i don't. i feel i can't. Lord, give me strength.

archbishop emmanuel kolini once told me a story about how the people of rwanda were learning to forgive and love one another through the horrible atrocities perpetrated and received. clearly, their struggles have been severe, making reconciliation seemingly impossible. yet somehow i can't find the strength to love someone who is giving me a hard time at work.

similarly, my friend ziya meral, a turk i met in toronto last year, has made it his aim to work to reconcile his people with the people of armenia, despite the near century-long discord between the two countries (if you're not familiar with the turkey-armenia struggle, congress just passed a bill officially calling the acts that turkey perpetrated against armenia in world war I 'genocide'. turkey's position remains genocide denial, despite overwhelming evidence of forced relocation and mass murder.) ziya first took up this cross after traveling to armenia for the first time a few years back with an old friend. they were received so hospitably, and loved so deeply that it broke his heart and changed him. not surprisingly, ziya is a muslim turned christian. as a result, he has been shunned from his own family. ziya is a beautiful and brilliant man, and i am very proud to know him. you can read his blog here.

i found a sermon by martin luther king, jr., a few days ago entitled 'loving your enemies.' it was delivered at dexter avenue baptist church in montgomery, alabama, on novermber 17, 1957. i'll leave you with an excerpt from the address here:

Within the best of us, there is some evil, and within the worst of us, there is some good. When we come to see this, we take a different attitude toward individuals. The person who hates you most has some good in him; even the nation that hates you most has some good in it; even the race that hates you most has some good in it. And when you come to the point that you look in the face of every man and see deep down within him what religion calls "the image of God," you begin to love him in spite of the evil. No matter what he does, you see God's image there. There is an element of goodness that he can never sluff off. Discover the element of good in your enemy. And as you seek to hate him, find the center of goodness and place your attention there and you will take a new attitude...

...so this morning, as I look into your eyes, and into the eyes of all of my brothers in Alabama and all over America and over the world, I say to you, "I love you. I would rather die than hate you." And I'm foolish enough to believe that through the power of this love somewhere, men of the most recalcitrant bent will be transformed. And then we will be in God's kingdom.

bejewelled spiders. crab spiders?

this little guy has been posted up on the side of our house for a couple months now. i thought it would be fitting to give him a wee tribute, given the longevity of his web. we've been calling him a crab spider for forever, but when i actually did some research, i found that crab spiders are actually a lot different than our friend here. neither spider should be confused with the japanese spider crab, which many of you have probably seen at the atlanta aquarium. the spider above is actually a jewelled spider, according to spiderzrule.com. although i've never seen an insect in this web, my theory is that our friend seduces insects with the smiley face on its back, and then snags them in his awesome web. we at 1812 e. lloyd would like to take this opportunity to thank our jewelly spider for controlling our very local mosquito population.

i walked up to the park today to read, and ended up falling asleep in the afternoon sun. eventually i finished 'the wounded healer' (i know, i know. such a short book). the last chapter was the best. i'll leave you with another gem from nouwen:

when we are not afraid to enter into our own center
and to concentrate on the stirrings of our own soul,
we come to know that being alive means being loved.
this experience tells us that we can only love because
we are born out of love, that we can only give because
our life is a gift, and that we can only make others
free because we are set free by Him whose heart is
greater than ours. when we have found the anchor
places for our lives in our own center, we can be free
to let others enter into the space created for them
and allow them to dance their own dance,
sing their own song
and speak their own language without fear.
then our presence is no longer threatening and demanding
but inviting and liberating.

this is true hospitality.

more on laetizia's visit.

as i mentioned in the previous post, i had a surprise visit from an old friend two weeks ago. her name is laetizia langer. i lived with her and loads of other people in a castle in scotland for six months several years back. laetizia is from germany, and she's an architect at a small firm in her hometowm of dresden. sadly, dresden is known around the world for receiving a devastating and controversial attack from the allied forces during world war II which destroyed the city and killed tens of thousands of people. laetizia is a glowing reminder that the Lord makes beauty from ashes.

before laetizia came to see me, she was visiting our friend daryl in atlanta. daryl had appointed a friend to take laetizia around and show her the city, who bailed once laetizia arrived. to make a long story short, laetizia was bored and she wanted to see the ocean, so daryl thought to call me. she flew down a few days later and spent a week at the beach. it was a great relief for her to be able to come and relax, and it was a great delight to have her here. i was privileged to introduce her favorite new music: the innocence mission. i posted a few photos from her time here on a flickr album. enjoy.

thanks for visiting, laetty. you're welcome any time.

genuine hospitality, and gardens.

the weather in florida has been particularly beautiful lately. at the moment i'm sitting on my porch watching the sun go down, enjoying the increasingly milder temperatures. by all measurements, the weather is perfect right now.

the orchid pictured above is one of the most bizarre and awesome displays of flowers at their strangest. it is a catasetum integerrimum. many people think the photo is ominous, a reminder of death. one guy even called it a hobgoblin. for me, though, this orchid is a monk: quiet, reverent, diligent. the 'bird beak' structure in the center of the plant is a sensitive trigger that when brushed against, shoots pollen onto the bee that pollinates it. this shower, wanted or not, allows the bee to pollinate the other monk orchids in mexico and throughout central america.

i picked this flower to share this evening because it represents a small piece of a growing trend in my life. during the past several months, i've grown noticeably more generous, kind, and benevolent. my thoughts and meditations on scripture are being drawn towards community, generosity, and hospitality. also, my thoughts are being drawn to gardens.

about a month back, i had a very encouraging conversation with my cousin andrew about hospitality and generosity. andrew and his wife sarah, along with their son (the rotund and dashing henry arden francis carlson-lier), live with at least one other family, in a community they have called the julian house. the namesake is for st. julian, the patron saint of hospitality. andrew proceded to tell me that he wants his life to manifest a consistent hospitality as he goes about living with family, friends, and neighbors. i told andrew that i'd been finding it hard to be generous with people. my experience is that everyone wants the playing field to be even. if i buy dinner for someone, they need to pay me back. if i go out of my way to help someone, they feel they must repay the favor. i find myself caught in these loops of feeling that i should treat people a certain way, while at the same time living in the reality that people expect to be treated by me with that weird even-handed fairness. so, people feel slighted when i don't pay them back for food, and disrespected when i don't repay favors. this dissonance will ring in my head for weeks if i let it.

i feel i'm supposed to be generous and loving to people. as a christian, i find joy in both welcoming and being welcomed. it makes little sense to me why this is such a foreign concept to many brothers and sisters in the faith.

so a couple of weeks after this conversation with andrew, my dad tells me that he's preaching a sermon on hospitality. then he lends me a book: Making Room by Christine D. Pohl. i've only just cracked it. let's just say i'm looking forward to diving in.

this brings us up to about ten days ago when my buddy daryl calls from atlanta and asks if a mutual friend of ours can fly down and stay with me for awhile. daryl and i met in scotland and lived together at a ywam base in west kilbride for about six moonths (a quick digression: daryl and i discovered, while living in scotland, that he attended the same church as my older brother mark: craziness.). anyway, we also lived with about twenty five others, including our dear friend laetizia from germany. daryl and i have had some keeping in touch since, but until last week, i had not seen or heard from laetizia in over four years. so, with this glaring opportunity to be hospitality to someone, i jumped at the chance. laetizia came to stay and had a wonderful, relaxing time. it was a beautiful week. she made it clear to me on multiple occasions that she felt welcomed in and accepted, loved and cherished. i was able to give her my bed and my car, cook her meals and provide her with buckets of the most delicious orange juice on the planet (of which she took down in pints). it felt really good to provide haven for her, to be love to her.
question: if it feels good, is it genuine altruism?

lastly, i'd like to mention my most recent book purchase: Monastic Gardens by Mick Hales. i randomly googled 'monastic gardens' one day, and there just happened to be a rather intriguing book by precisely that title. the book is about the various facets of the garden, as seen in both modern and historical monasteries. gardens are not just decorative in nature, but are sources of meals, medicine, and sanctuary. gardens provide altar flowers, wine, places to pray, and most notably: hospitality. Hales has a whole chapter on 'the guest house garden,' which is just fantastic. the book is beautiful to me because it is merging the two paths i find i'm simultaneously walking: genuine hospitality and gardens.

so, although the sentimental attitudes of generosity and goodwill are important, they are just not enough in and of themselves. hospitality, i think, is far deeper and more pervasive. hospitality is, in fact, a discipline, and entails the selfless and vulnerable act of welcoming in strangers and being life and love to them.

i don't know exactly where my life is headed, but it's months like september that seem to make a lot of sense. i'll leave you with an exceptionally appropriate quote that i received last week from a new friend:

life is short and we do not have
much time to gladden the hearts
of those who travel the way with us.
oh, be swift to love.
make haste to be kind.

-henri frederic amiel (1868)

all it takes to hearken back is a bottle of tasty oban.

recently, my housemate casey and i were out and about looking for new bottles of scotch. as we were looking, i noticed a bottle of 14 year old oban, which immediately reminded me of my dear friends joe and chris lafferty.

joe and chris once lived in oban. i was only in oban once, just passing through on my way to the fair isle of iona. my time in iona was one of the most magical times i had in scotland. it was the only holiday i took while i lived in the u.k., and it was glorious.

i was in edinburgh for the fringe festival at the time, so i had to catch a train from there to glasgow, and from glasgow north to oban. oban is a sea town on the west coast of scotland. from oban one must take a ferry across to the isle of mull. mull is a breathtaking island, so driving the length of the island to catch the next ferry is nothing but pleasant. at the very end of mull is a village called fionnphort, which is where i had to catch the ferry for the mile-long jog to iona.

it was nearly dusk when i arrived on iona, and very foggy. i could hardly see fifty feet in front of me. i hadn't made plans to stay in a hostel, so i was planning on camping out on the beach. i ran into someone that told me that the iona community discourages primitive camping to protect their scarce and rare grasses. so i was wandering around in the fog and near dark, playing with stones on the beach and dancing on very large rocks. out of respect to the people of iona, i wandered back towards the town to try to find a hostel or family willing to take me in. on the way, i heard sheep and walked through the fog towards where i heard them. eventually i found the sheep, and to my surprise and delight, they belonged to the owners of a hostel. i walked in and was given a bed for the night. later i found out that people book rooms on iona several months in advance, and that it is unheard of to simply 'walk in' and expect a bed.
well i did.

the next morning, i woke up to the clearest, most beautiful day i can ever remember. scotland it rather grey and dull and cold most of the time, but this day the sky was blue and it was warm enough to walk around in shorts and a t-shirt. so i explored all day. i wandered around and sang and prayed and drank in the rugged beauty of the ancient island. i could write pages about my time on iona, but i'll share just one story.

i was sitting on a hillside, munching some crackers and cheese, when i was approached by a monk from poland (iona is steeped in christian history, a story for another day) who told me that his monk friend was off on a tiny island just beyond where we were sitting. he said his friend was exploring, and that he'd been gone for hours. we talked for awhile and his friend came back, and they were off to continue their adventures. i was interested to see what the polish monk was doing on the tiny island for all that time, and there was only about a foot of water between iona and the tiny island, so i took my shoes off and waded over. the island was about 150 meters long and 50 meters wide. it was grassy on top (tended by sheep. i don't know how they got there), and had tall, steep, rocky walls that ran down to the water. i spent hours on the wee island, climbing up the rocky ledges and basking with the sheep. it was a delightful time. as i walked back to the edge of the island to get back to the 'mainland,' i realized that the tide had come in since i'd first gone over, and the water was now chest-deep. i looked around and realized that i was completely alone. no polish monks, no locals, not anyone. so i simply removed all my clothes, held them over my head, and walked back to iona. also, i hadn't bathed in days, so i took this opportunity to wash myself in the sea. it was invigorating, it was freeing. i've never felt so alive.

so here i am, sipping my oban, thinking of joe and chris, and dreaming of fonder days. i'll leave you with another quote from 'the wounded healer:'

"through compassion we also sense our hope for forgiveness in our friends' eyes and our hatred in their bitter mouths. when they kill, we know that we could have done it; when they give life, we know that we can do the same. for a compassionate man nothing human is alien: no joy and no sorrow, no way of living and no way of dying."

simon.

a couple of weeks ago, i found a photo on my brother's computer that i had lost last year when my computer perished. it was the above photo of michael's hands and of simon, my ruby-throated hummingbird. i found simon one afternoon after class. i heard a noise, looked down, and at first thought it was a dragonfly. upon closer inspection, however, i discovered that it was a beautiful hummingbird that had one bad wing and was struggling to fly. i was thrilled at the discovery, as i had never seen a real, live hummingbird. so, filled with compassion, i took simon home, holding him in the palm of my hand all the way. occasionally he would try to fly away, only to be reminded that he could only flutter downward to the floorboard. i kept him for a few days, feeding him sugar-water from a spoon (which he lapped up with his threadlike tongue) and taking him for "walks." our walks consisted of me carrying simon to various flowers in the back and front yards to see which ones he enjoyed. his favorite was a vine that had thousands of tiny white flowers blooming. eventually i decided that i could no longer give simon the care he needed. so, reluctantly, i took him to the wildlife rescue mission and charged them with healing my sick friend. i hope he became well enough to fly again.

earlier today i was reading nouwen's "the wounded healer" when i was struck something he said about prayer. writes nouwen, "prayer is not a pious decoration of life, but the breath of human existence." this sums up a lot of what i've been feeling of late. all my longings and joys, pains and trials of life, struggling to find meaning for them within my spiritual existence. prayer, says nouwen, is the very essence of being alive.

as i was mulling over this in my head, i was reminded of a prayer that i said every sunday for ten years at [st. francis of assisi episcopal] church. when i was younger, this prayer had little meaning for me. as i grew older, though, beginning to understand and develop my own faith, this prayer became very meaningful for me, as things do when one grows older. this prayer is commonly called the "prayer of st. francis," and is widely attributed to him.

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
grant that i may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

in remembrance of simon, i will note briefly that Francis of Assisi is the patron saint of birds, animals, and the environment.

summer's winter wonderland.

this is my most recent flowering orchid. it's a degarmoara winter wonderland 'white fairy.' this plant is an intergeneric hybrid that has bits of miltoniopsis, brassia, and odontoglossum in it's background. my flowers have been four to five inches. they are pure white with a small cluster of purple spots at the very center of the petals and sepals. they have a subtle, sweet scent that is quite pleasant. i am fortunate to have two spikes with five flowers on each spike. i originally thought this was an oncidium hybrid with bits of brassia in it, but i was recently corrected by someone wiser than i. this is a lovely orchid.

two days ago i treated myself to a new surfboard. it's the first epoxy board that i've had (epoxy is tougher, quicker, more buoyant, and, of course, more expensive than fiberglass). thursday the surf wasn't very good, so stu and i took off from work early on friday and went to the cross for some quick, drifty surf. kristen came, too. it was a fun day.

surfing is something i've grown to love over the past few years since i moved home from scotland. it's magical. there's nothing like it. it's been my escape, my time to think and refuel. it's also been a great fellowship experience with my friends, and this is most true with my brother michael. surfing has become something that we enjoy together, and sharing that time in the water has helped us get to know one another as adults, which has been very meaningful and important for our relationship. we took a surf trip with some friends last year to costa rica.
the photo below is from that trip.

i love my brother.

update on kristen. and slippers.

this is a phragmipedium. phrags are one of four genera in their subfamily. all are commonly called slipper orchids, because of the 'slipper' or pouch that forms instead of the lip as the unique front petal. the different subfamilies are classified for the different regions in which they grow. phrags are found primarily in central and south america, as they need warmer temperatures to survive. this one was cultivated by jason fischer. for some reason he called it 'miami beach.' a deficit in originality, but to each his own. nevertheless, the flower is a particularly beautiful specimen. well done, jason.

so that everyone knows, kristen escaped her terrifying car crash with only a few injuries to her left arm. the woman who crashed into her was driving a much bigger car, and actually rode up over kristen's car, smashing the windshield, then took to the air and came back down on the back of the smaller, more vulnerable honda. anyway, aside from being a bit shaken up and sore, kristen is doing remarkably well, and we are all thankful.

dear kristen.

two of my dearest friends, stuart and kristen west, were married earlier this year. stuart called me tonight from the hospital saying that kristen had been hit by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. he said she was stable, but they won't know the extent of her injuries until the morning. i pray she's alright.

the senselessness of this astounds me.

Lord, have mercy.

holy ghosts and orchids.

i'm going to start inserting an orchid with each entry as i blog. enjoy.



this is a ghost orchid. i believe it might be the most beautiful of all flowers. it is incredibly rare, and extremely difficult to grow anywhere outside it's native habitat. it is commonly called the "ghost" orchid because it's roots blend in, which gives the flower the appearance of floating in the air without stem or stalk, like a ghost. the lower lip, a unique petal in all orchids, has become something singular and breathtaking in the ghost orchid. the lip divides, and spins slightly downward, as if it has grown a pair of short legs. the ghost is an epiphytic orchid, meaning that it has roots which anchor to trees, allowing the plant to grow without ever touching the ground. epiphytic orchids are never parasitic. they have special roots, encased in special velamen, which absorbs moisture and other elements from the air and rain. the existence of such a beautiful flower boggles my mind. i have never been privileged to see a specimen in person, but one day... sigh... perhaps.

i've been having a few email conversations with my dad and my cousin andrew. i thought i'd share some of the content of the exchanges here. some of the discourse was born from a short book on prayer that i've been reading, and some from my work experience of late. enjoy.

"...Anyway, I think he's saying that as created, material beings one of the unique ways that we can know and bless God is through and on account of the material creation. Hence many great hymns and psalms extolling God for the wonders of creation, or "beauties of nature", and the sacraments, and again, Jesus. The resurrection of the body says that the body is important to God, and knowing/ experiencing/blessing God, at least in part, through our bodily senses is again, an essential part of his design and desire. The material, created order is important to
God - especially human beings. We aren't just spirits trapped in decaying bodies that one day we will shed for a purely spiritual existence. Jesus came to redeem our whole selves. Hence we say in the Creed that we believe in the resurrection of the body."

"I often feel exhausted, whether I've slept a lot or a little, whether I've worked twelve hours or six. Nevertheless, the last month I have felt happy. I made a decision to read more, to take care of myself spiritually, to serve, and to do things I love. I dive fully into experiencing God in a number of ways, and I'm thrilled that I'm not simply a 'trapped spirit.' I love to love music and mountains and waves and flowers and books. Everything I do has become spiritual to me, like a prayer. And I love it. It's like my life is a song, and when I'm happy and doing things i love, i'm like one worshipping. It's a never ending cycle of blessing: God blesses me by presenting me with opportunities to love certain things, and I respond by enjoying them. And I love it, because I feel this blesses Him, like we're enjoying each other.

"I guess I've written all this to say that this attitude is helping me cope with the stresses I face as a social worker, and I suppose I didn't realize it until now. It's hard for me not to internalize things and make my client's problems my own. I wake up dreaming about kids and parents, about their livelihoods and futures. I think being intentional about enjoying life, as well as being life to those around me, has helped me immensely.

"I've been given so many gifts, and I've squandered so many chances to be thankful. I don't fully understand why God chose to bless us and give us things and people to love, but it's so beautiful, isn't it? That he would create each of us with a precise disposition, to love and enjoy certain things. These thoughts make me happy."

indeed they do.

when the spirit surrounds me.

late night photography on palafox.


it's a great relief when you discover, by your own logic, that despite dealing with awful things, your life is largely great.