Saturday, June 28, 2014

poem for a weekend evening


You Reading This, Be Ready
by William Stafford

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. The interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life—

What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?


Wednesday, June 11, 2014

i survived!

my pod meeting was this morning, which involved talking about my research project in front of all the people from my pod at work (7+ labs invited). so scary - my heart was pounding, and I felt very sweaty and gross. fear has a good way of reminding me of my body, of how I am not just a brain. anyway. I did it, and it was fine, and afterwards one of my mentors said to me: you should be very proud of yourself.

I'll take that, & call it a success. :)


--

in other news, the thunderstorm tonight was nice to listen to from the peacefulness of my apartment. 

Sunday, June 8, 2014

sunday evening contentedness

is there anything better than a thoroughly cleaned room?



evening light through many windows?



in-tune guitars?



...yeah, I'd say it's a pretty good life.


Saturday, June 7, 2014

the Mennonite bubble

breakfast today with a not-even-that-close friend from EMU was reminding me about how it felt to spend four years tucked securely inside the "Mennonite bubble."

it's been somewhat surprising to me that over the past year I haven't felt all that nostalgic for being in college. I do miss how intense everything felt, all the time; how alive and awake my brain felt, jumping from organic chemistry to a close reading of Paradise Lost, from human physiology to investigating the links between language and religion. but when I graduated from EMU, I knew even then that I had taken all that I could from my four years there. I had grown and changed and been set on a path, and the only thing to do was keep walking. like I wrote at the time, I was ready to do, to try, to see if I could make it, out in the real world, outside of the boundaries of my tiny, safe school.

"This field is getting too small," she said.
"Don't you know anyone else
To fall in love with?"
 -Robert Bly, "Conversations With The Soul"

that's kind of how it was, I guess - EMU felt large & spacious when I was 18 years old, and in the course of four years it grew smaller and smaller as I grew larger. maybe the simple way to say it is just this: I outgrew being a student.

that being said, though - I am missing being part of a community that speaks the same language, that cares about the same things I care about, that understands the identity that I have been growing into. I did not outgrow my church- and friend- and intellectual-communities in the same way that I outgrew the institution of EMU, and I think that is why I miss Harrisonburg so much.

and so. breakfast, this morning. a tiny ache in the heart: all the people I miss, all the conversations I haven't been having. I miss how easy the art of conversation was with people at EMU, how quickly we could jump between things like: young-adult Mennonite identity, work with MCC & what it means, the theology of different churches we've attended, professors we all know, places we've all been.

I want to belong to a community again, one that speaks this language. I don't know how long it will be until I end up in such a place, but I am going to do my best to steer myself in that direction.