For me, C.S. Lewis is difficult to quote because every sentence he writes is so full of thought and power. Here is my lousy attempt to quote some of the items that struck me the most:
There are moments, most unexpectedly, when something inside me tries to assure me that I don't really mind so much, not so very much, after all. Love is not the whole of a man's life. I was happy before I ever met H. I've plenty of what are called 'resources.' People get over these things. Come I shan't do so badly. One is ashamed to listen to this voice but it seems for a little to be making out a good case. Then comes a sudden jab of red-hot memory and all this 'commonsense' vanishes like an ant in the mouth of a furnace. (p.3-4)
...it leads me to misrepresent H. herself. Give that mood its head and in a few minutes I shall have substituted for the real woman a mere doll to be blubbered over. (p.4)
Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer.
Unexpectedly, it makes no difference. Her absence is no more emphatic in those places {where he and H. had been happy} than anywhere else. It's not local at all...The act of living is different all through. Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything. (P.11)
But won't the composition inevitably become more and more my own? The reality is no longer there to check me, to pull me up short, as the real H. so often did, so unexpectedly, by being so thoroughly herself and not me. (p.18)
Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process...Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape. (p. 60)
For this fate would seem to me the worst of all, to reach a state in which my years of love and marriage should appear in retrospect a charming episode--like a holiday--that had briefly interrupted my interminable life and returned me to normal, unchanged. And then it would come to seem unreal--something so foreign to the usual texture of my history that I could almost believe it had happened to someone else. Thus H. would die to me a second time; a worse bereavement than the first. Anything but that.
Did you ever know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left? You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things we never shared. I was wrong to say the stump was recovering from the pain of the amputation. I was deceived because it has so many ways to hurt me that I discover them only one by one. (p. 61)
But by praising I can still, in some degree, enjoy her, and already, in some degree, enjoy Him. Better than nothing. (p. 62-63)
All reality is iconoclastic. (p.66)
Am I, for instance, just sidling back to God because I know that if there's any road to H., it runs through Him?...If you're approaching Him not as the goal but as a road, not as the end but as a means, you're not really approaching Him at all. (p.68)
For this is one of the miracles of love; it gives--to both, but perhaps especially to the woman--a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted.
To see, in some measure, like God. His love and His knowledge are not distinct from one another, nor from Him. We could almost say he sees because He loves, and therefore loves although He sees. (p.72)
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and The Mine
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Quotes from "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
"Blount was not a freak, although when you first saw him he gave you that impression. It was like something was deformed about him--but when you looked at him closely each part of him was normal and as it ought to be. Therefore if this difference was not in the body it was probably in the mind. He was like a man who had served a term in prison or had been to Harvard College or had lived for a long time with foreigners in South America. He was like a person who had been somewhere that other people are not likely to go or had done something that others are not apt to do." (21)
Quotes from The Mine by A. Lopez Salinas poorly translated by myself
"And before Kings ruled, and now there are almost no more kings besides the four on a deck of cards. And they said that the world was flat, and it was found to be round and that it orbited around the sun. Each thing is true in its time. There is no greater truth then this: man has made all and has changed all." (150)
"She thought of the time that had passed from when she had married the miner. There were lagoons in her remembrance, spaces of gray life in which nothing good or bad had passed...
She looked at him with a friendly look, with affection. She remembered the man that she met 26--or was it 27--years ago. But more than the man, she remembered her youth, the youth of the mine field women. The youth lost between hunger and suffering and work. Scarcely with the happiness of an irremediably short Sunday, a cheap dress, of a cheek-to-cheek dance with the young boys. And of hope, of much hope. There were 27 years already. She looked at him again as the good companion of the happy hours and the bitter hours. The companion for whom she anxiously waited every day, always scared of an evil angel lying in wait to inflict tragedy on all of the miners.
Truthfully she would like to be young again and offer her white body to her old companion. (176)"
"Blount was not a freak, although when you first saw him he gave you that impression. It was like something was deformed about him--but when you looked at him closely each part of him was normal and as it ought to be. Therefore if this difference was not in the body it was probably in the mind. He was like a man who had served a term in prison or had been to Harvard College or had lived for a long time with foreigners in South America. He was like a person who had been somewhere that other people are not likely to go or had done something that others are not apt to do." (21)
Quotes from The Mine by A. Lopez Salinas poorly translated by myself
"And before Kings ruled, and now there are almost no more kings besides the four on a deck of cards. And they said that the world was flat, and it was found to be round and that it orbited around the sun. Each thing is true in its time. There is no greater truth then this: man has made all and has changed all." (150)
"She thought of the time that had passed from when she had married the miner. There were lagoons in her remembrance, spaces of gray life in which nothing good or bad had passed...
She looked at him with a friendly look, with affection. She remembered the man that she met 26--or was it 27--years ago. But more than the man, she remembered her youth, the youth of the mine field women. The youth lost between hunger and suffering and work. Scarcely with the happiness of an irremediably short Sunday, a cheap dress, of a cheek-to-cheek dance with the young boys. And of hope, of much hope. There were 27 years already. She looked at him again as the good companion of the happy hours and the bitter hours. The companion for whom she anxiously waited every day, always scared of an evil angel lying in wait to inflict tragedy on all of the miners.
Truthfully she would like to be young again and offer her white body to her old companion. (176)"
And it's one more birthday in Hollywood
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I came out to California to interview for school, but seeing as it was near my birthday, we decided to do some swing dancing in Hollywood. Mucho fun-o.
Swing dancing at the Derby with Larry
Enjoying luscious In & Out Burgers with the boys in the wee hours of the night...except I bought a lemonade and chocolate milk shake. What a lovely combination for my tummy!
Jon of Switchfoot Digs Deep into Oh! Gravity
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I'm always fascinated by song meanings, especially by those that actually have meaning. Although I didn't start listening to Switchfoot until this past year (the whole A Walk to Remember sort of discouraged me from listening to their stuff), I've come to deeply respect the depth and sound of their songs. I was excited to find this article and thought I would share it with any who are interested.
Jon of Switchfoot Digs Deep into Oh! Gravity
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Source: CMSpin
SWITCHFOOT Oh! Gravity.
The Songs by Jon Foreman
grav·i·ty (grv-t) n.
- The natural force of attraction between any two massive bodies, which is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.
- Grave consequence; seriousness or importance
- Solemnity or dignity of manner.
Oh! Gravity is a conversation with a well-known law of physics. The question is this: If in the physical world things naturally move closer together, why are we falling apart? War and rumors of war, divorce, hatred, violence, and everything else on the evening news seems to contradict gravity. This song is a fun happy-clappy tune about a grave matter: "Sons of my enemies, why can't we seem to keep it together?"
American Dream. I am proud to be an American. Proud of my grandfather who was shot down in world war two. Proud of some of my best friends who are in the Marines. I believe in a nation that is serving a higher calling than a TV. I have nothing against the material world. I have nothing against consumerism as a social structure. Certainly we are consumers with physical bodies, but if that's all we are we've lost what it means to be human. When success is equated with excess the ambition for excess wrecks us. As the top of the mind becomes the bottom line when success is equated with excess.
Dirty Second Hands. the machine. the clock. our own hands. The dirty second hand of time is always ticking- bringing us and all that we have worked so hard to achieve closer to the grave and the second hand store. In my fight with depression, lust, pride, and boredom I have found that the biggest challenger is often within me. The very machinery that I loathe and have fought so hard to defeat stares back at me from the mirror. This mechanism is always ticking. And in my spiritual life I have found that this is a part of me that has to die everyday if I am to be truly alive.
Awakening. How quickly I am lulled back to sleep! How quickly I forget. In one of my favorite Wilco songs Jeff Tweedy sings, "You know I would die if I could come back new." Perhaps to be truly reborn death is not optional. Here's a firsthand story about new life, it always starts at the bottom.
Circles. Here's a tune that had its roots in the past. We actually played a version of this song a few tours ago while we were gearing up for the recording of "nothing is sound." It's an ecclesiastical song about the modern machine. We tracked a previous version of this song while we were tracking stars. But something about the song was never quite right. When Sean and Sarah Watkins (our friends from Nickel Creek) came in, the song took on a new life and became something truly special. The end of the song represents one of my favorite moments we've ever had on a CD.
Amateur Lovers. Oh that we knew how to love each other well! Here's a song that elaborates on the title track with another set of social-physics questions. We all need love so badly- it's how we were made. And yet we're so bad at loving one another. It's our attempt to put another matter of grave consequence in the skin of a pop tune.
Faust, Midas, and Myself. two mythologies and the truth. Or more specifically, a man who makes a deal with the devil, a man who has a touch of gold, and my own personal struggles. CS Lewis had a lot to say about mythology. On one occasion he said that he writes fantasy to get past the watchful dragons of religion. That's why I write music, because our minds are often so closed that even the truth can't fit in to set us free. This is a story about following the fantasy and seeing where it leads. Sometimes the dreams turn into nightmares... In a million ways, I know firsthand that the taste turns sour very quickly.
Head Over Heals. This is an honest love song. Love is not a silk flower- always bright, with artificially whitened teeth and a fake tan. No, love is a fight. Love is what happens when you've been hurt and you want to quit. Love is what happens when you decide not to. Love is not the beginning of the story but the ending. Perhaps the thirty-minute sitcom has done a disservice to the sheer magnitude of what love is.
Yesterdays. I wrote this with my brother. The song is very straightforward. I have hope in this life and beyond the grave.
Burn Out Bright. One of two tracks on the record that is a command. Seems like every story I can relate to starts off with a broken heart, broken dreams and bleeding parts. There's a story I know about a man named Israel who wrestled with God. From that day on he walked with a limp. I guess in a lot of ways I don't trust a man who doesn't have a limp. The future is yet unwritten. Write it well.
4:12. another musical thesis on the subject of materialism. I've heard it said that we are souls and we have bodies. And yet our physical world is always hungry, always thirsty, always watching, always listening. It gets to the point where I begin to believe that all we are and that all of our dreams are nothing more than material. That love and fear and pain and justice are material? It's nonsensical.
Let Your Love Be Strong. My wife's favorite song. This one means a lot to me. "Maybe I'm just idealistic to assume that truth could be fact and form, that love could be a verb, maybe I'm just a little misinformed." I wrote this one after a long walk in the early morning before the sun came up. I was sitting out by the train tracks halfway between the ocean and the freeway. When everything in your life falls apart you begin to realize what's worth holding on to and who's got a hold on you. Let the world fall apart ... all of my life rests upon the love that created every breath I have been given.
*a footnote:
I have a hard time explaining what I do for a living. I sometimes wish I played the role of inventor: purposefully creative, a wizard with notes and words. But in fact my occupation is much more like an archeologist. Always digging. Always sorting. And occasionally I feel that I stumble across something truly remarkable. Like a hidden city buried in the ground, the notes and words seem to have been there long before me- as though the song would exist without my involvement. Or maybe it's more like farming. Preparing the soil, planting, watering, pruning and caring for these ideas hoping to see a bumper crop yet knowing that the outcome is almost entirely out of my hands.
With that in mind, this collection of songs then is something that I can only partly take credit for. Most of my favorite moments on the record represent the times when my fingerprints are the lightest, where my own self-conscious second-guessing is absent and the buried city can speak for itself. I suppose to some extent I'm talking about honesty- allowing a song to be itself rather than forcing your own will upon it. This was a goal not only in the writing process but in the studio as well. Many times on this record we deliberately went back to the first take and the rough draft to find our direction simply because the first response to the song is often the most honest. Your first instincts might be poorly played or incomplete but they were honest.
I am so proud of these songs, like I am proud of my friends or as I imagine a father would be proud of his son. I truly feel like there is only so much credit that be given to the songwriter, for the buried city was waiting there all along.
Jon of Switchfoot Digs Deep into Oh! Gravity
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Source: CMSpin
SWITCHFOOT Oh! Gravity.
The Songs by Jon Foreman
grav·i·ty (grv-t) n.
- The natural force of attraction between any two massive bodies, which is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.
- Grave consequence; seriousness or importance
- Solemnity or dignity of manner.
Oh! Gravity is a conversation with a well-known law of physics. The question is this: If in the physical world things naturally move closer together, why are we falling apart? War and rumors of war, divorce, hatred, violence, and everything else on the evening news seems to contradict gravity. This song is a fun happy-clappy tune about a grave matter: "Sons of my enemies, why can't we seem to keep it together?"
American Dream. I am proud to be an American. Proud of my grandfather who was shot down in world war two. Proud of some of my best friends who are in the Marines. I believe in a nation that is serving a higher calling than a TV. I have nothing against the material world. I have nothing against consumerism as a social structure. Certainly we are consumers with physical bodies, but if that's all we are we've lost what it means to be human. When success is equated with excess the ambition for excess wrecks us. As the top of the mind becomes the bottom line when success is equated with excess.
Dirty Second Hands. the machine. the clock. our own hands. The dirty second hand of time is always ticking- bringing us and all that we have worked so hard to achieve closer to the grave and the second hand store. In my fight with depression, lust, pride, and boredom I have found that the biggest challenger is often within me. The very machinery that I loathe and have fought so hard to defeat stares back at me from the mirror. This mechanism is always ticking. And in my spiritual life I have found that this is a part of me that has to die everyday if I am to be truly alive.
Awakening. How quickly I am lulled back to sleep! How quickly I forget. In one of my favorite Wilco songs Jeff Tweedy sings, "You know I would die if I could come back new." Perhaps to be truly reborn death is not optional. Here's a firsthand story about new life, it always starts at the bottom.
Circles. Here's a tune that had its roots in the past. We actually played a version of this song a few tours ago while we were gearing up for the recording of "nothing is sound." It's an ecclesiastical song about the modern machine. We tracked a previous version of this song while we were tracking stars. But something about the song was never quite right. When Sean and Sarah Watkins (our friends from Nickel Creek) came in, the song took on a new life and became something truly special. The end of the song represents one of my favorite moments we've ever had on a CD.
Amateur Lovers. Oh that we knew how to love each other well! Here's a song that elaborates on the title track with another set of social-physics questions. We all need love so badly- it's how we were made. And yet we're so bad at loving one another. It's our attempt to put another matter of grave consequence in the skin of a pop tune.
Faust, Midas, and Myself. two mythologies and the truth. Or more specifically, a man who makes a deal with the devil, a man who has a touch of gold, and my own personal struggles. CS Lewis had a lot to say about mythology. On one occasion he said that he writes fantasy to get past the watchful dragons of religion. That's why I write music, because our minds are often so closed that even the truth can't fit in to set us free. This is a story about following the fantasy and seeing where it leads. Sometimes the dreams turn into nightmares... In a million ways, I know firsthand that the taste turns sour very quickly.
Head Over Heals. This is an honest love song. Love is not a silk flower- always bright, with artificially whitened teeth and a fake tan. No, love is a fight. Love is what happens when you've been hurt and you want to quit. Love is what happens when you decide not to. Love is not the beginning of the story but the ending. Perhaps the thirty-minute sitcom has done a disservice to the sheer magnitude of what love is.
Yesterdays. I wrote this with my brother. The song is very straightforward. I have hope in this life and beyond the grave.
Burn Out Bright. One of two tracks on the record that is a command. Seems like every story I can relate to starts off with a broken heart, broken dreams and bleeding parts. There's a story I know about a man named Israel who wrestled with God. From that day on he walked with a limp. I guess in a lot of ways I don't trust a man who doesn't have a limp. The future is yet unwritten. Write it well.
4:12. another musical thesis on the subject of materialism. I've heard it said that we are souls and we have bodies. And yet our physical world is always hungry, always thirsty, always watching, always listening. It gets to the point where I begin to believe that all we are and that all of our dreams are nothing more than material. That love and fear and pain and justice are material? It's nonsensical.
Let Your Love Be Strong. My wife's favorite song. This one means a lot to me. "Maybe I'm just idealistic to assume that truth could be fact and form, that love could be a verb, maybe I'm just a little misinformed." I wrote this one after a long walk in the early morning before the sun came up. I was sitting out by the train tracks halfway between the ocean and the freeway. When everything in your life falls apart you begin to realize what's worth holding on to and who's got a hold on you. Let the world fall apart ... all of my life rests upon the love that created every breath I have been given.
*a footnote:
I have a hard time explaining what I do for a living. I sometimes wish I played the role of inventor: purposefully creative, a wizard with notes and words. But in fact my occupation is much more like an archeologist. Always digging. Always sorting. And occasionally I feel that I stumble across something truly remarkable. Like a hidden city buried in the ground, the notes and words seem to have been there long before me- as though the song would exist without my involvement. Or maybe it's more like farming. Preparing the soil, planting, watering, pruning and caring for these ideas hoping to see a bumper crop yet knowing that the outcome is almost entirely out of my hands.
With that in mind, this collection of songs then is something that I can only partly take credit for. Most of my favorite moments on the record represent the times when my fingerprints are the lightest, where my own self-conscious second-guessing is absent and the buried city can speak for itself. I suppose to some extent I'm talking about honesty- allowing a song to be itself rather than forcing your own will upon it. This was a goal not only in the writing process but in the studio as well. Many times on this record we deliberately went back to the first take and the rough draft to find our direction simply because the first response to the song is often the most honest. Your first instincts might be poorly played or incomplete but they were honest.
I am so proud of these songs, like I am proud of my friends or as I imagine a father would be proud of his son. I truly feel like there is only so much credit that be given to the songwriter, for the buried city was waiting there all along.
Someone Turned on the Kenyan Faucet
So, if one were to go back to my meager post about Africa from last year, he or she would find that I basically only mention the drought. Well, this year Kenya made up for all lost rain and then some. Every day life was filled with people lifting up their pants tip-toeing through swamps, stranded vehicles spinning holes deeper and deeper into the soil, mud splattered faces and bodies...all thanks to the endless rain. Quite a change. We probably didn't see the same quantity of animals--safari was a bit of a challenge--I couldn't sleep in the tree house, and we had maybe one good night of star gazing. But I loved it all the same.
The drenching reminded me once again how each Kenya trip is distinctive from the rest. This was my sixth visit to the country, and I found it as fascinating as ever. I know I don't deserve to call Kenya home--my visits consist of sporadic three weeks of excitement--yet I feel a connection to the land and its people. I help treat the ailments of, play games with, sing with, tell stories to and converse with many of the same people each year. And that's what makes a home--community. I wish I could talk to more people. I wish I could stay long enough to learn their language and try to understand their customs. I admit I don't understand why they continue a lot of harmful practices they've been doing for thousands of years...but I suppose Americans are not better. In fact we seem to do a good job at creating more technology to gobble up our time and make us unhealthy (i.e. like me sitting in front of my computer right now instead of being outside exercising). We may not live in houses made of dung, but we do a pretty good job of filling our houses and lives full of dung.
Like most things, there is always a good and bad side to ones view point and to one's experiences. Here are a few of my most memorable experiences of Kenya 2006:
On the way over to Amsterdam, I sat next to a Dane. We talked almost the entire flight and I learned heaps about Denmark. The second leg of the trip I sat next to a fella with a genuine case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He kept tugging his shirt and pulling his ticket in and out of an envelope. I didn't observe him for very long, because sleeping pills kicked in. I didn't awaken until people were standing in the aisles to get off the plane.
To start off the trip, we spent a few days on the Kenyan coast of Mombasa enjoying beach volleyball, SCUBA diving the Crab, snorkeling the Indian Ocean, crab hunting, and African dancing.
After Mombasa we flew back to Nairobi, catching a glimpse of Kilimanjaro breaking through the clouds along the way. In the city we spent some time bartering in the blue shacks, eating at Java House (Kenya's version of Starbucks...there are already seven in Nairobi, and I'm sure there are more to come!) and sleeping a night at the SDA Guesthouse. The next day we made the seven hourish journey to the safari camp. My sister, myself, and some other cool cats rode in the "Killer Bee." We kept ourselves entertained by starting a full-on food fight with Josh's Fear This Land Cruiser. First we pitched plums at them. They retaliated with water, so we struck back with Slim Jims, warm Moon Pies, and more plums. Then we brought out the big guns and launched an entire mango at them. The slimy skin and chunks of mango stuck beautifully to the windshield and side window.
Time passed and we thought the feud had ended. We were wrong. As the group made a pitstop at an overlook of the Rift Valley, Josh stealthfully purchased bags and bags of tomatoes. I unfortunately had my window wide open when the throwing began some thirty minutes later. Things were getting serious, so we picked up and threw some cow dung at them just before reaching the camp. It landed accurately on their window glass. They tried to come back at us a final time by taking out luggage from the back of their trailer and setting it on the ground. Hysterically, they pulled out one of their own suitcases and left it by the side of the road.
We stopped our road war, but the games continued during our nights at camp. I've never been in a group so willing to play group games; last year we were lucky if we got to play two nights. We laughingly played Mafia, Rook, Psychology, Rabbit, Mississippi Marbles, Fact or Crap, etc., etc. Old and young enjoyed all.
During the daytime, we were a little more serious...a little bit. I collected rocks with Daniel, Michael, and the Nliki guys in order to try to fix a road to Olopikedong'oe School (try saying THAT five times fast). We were more successful getting muddy then making a driveable throughway, but it was fun. Throughout the rest of the trip, I meandered around helping out at the clinic, aiding children's programs, and taking a lot of pictures and video. I also spent significant time eating. People often ask what we eat in Kenya. We eat everything; if you come on one of these trips, don't expect to lose weight. The camp chefs fix everything from pizza cooked over coals to almond biscotti. There is usually a gaggle of Kenyan soft drinks like Bitter Limon and Stoney Tangawezi (a ginger drink...my personal favorite) to choose from, or Milo (similar to hot chocolate) and Rooibus tea if one is in the mood for a hot drink.
I drank plenty of hot drinks this year because often it was chilly at night. We spent a lot of time warming our hands and feet around coal holders--especially after puddle jumping or off-roading in the Land Dog.
Our first Sabbath afternoon, after listening to the chants and song of the Maasai at church, and eating a scrumptious lunch, a few of us piled into the Land Dog for a muddy adventure. We plowed through marshes, ponds, and thorn bushes splattering ourselves with copious amounts of wet soil and cow poo. Disgusting, perhaps, but, oh so much fun. The Maasai just laughed and waved as we splashed up water completely drenching ourselves. Not wanting to hoard all the fun for ourselves, the following Friday we participated in a rollicking soccer game on a very uneven playing field...as in there are massive holes and mounds scattered everywhere. The African guys played as ferociously with the girls as with the guys. One fella knocked Jess to the ground. Most moved the ball down the field like cannon balls. I was impressed. My team did quite well, losing only by two points. I can't wait to play again someday.
Another of my favorite activities was handing out backpacks. On Christmas and Boxing Day we gave out backpacks to masses of school children. We had received donations to purchase the backpacks and now all of the pupils in the area have something in which to carry their books and candy :).Around Christmas, some people had to leave while others--Caleb, Jared, and Darrell--joined the group. We welcomed them, but soon had to say goodbye. Our last two days at camp we spent on safari. We spotted twenty-two lion, a family of seven cheetah, and a mileu of other creatures. Because the roads were so muddy, we spent the second morning hiking to and exploring Olkoruk Lodge--a burnt down hotel that supposedly once housed cast and crew of Out of Africa.
With high hopes, we got back in the Land Cruisers and ventured into the game park passing droves of galloping giraffe. Just after observing a topi (it's the fastest antelope-like animal) perched atop a mud mound keeping a watchful eye on a group of three lions, we decided to have a picnic. Soon after lunch, one of the trucks lodged itself into a deep watery hole directly beneath a massive "corn dog" tree. We spent hours with winches and chains unsuccessfully trying to extract it from the mire. We finally left Andy with the vehicle while we returned to camp. We called for Aaron and Caleb back at camp to come down with their heavier duty winches to get the Cruiser out. We warmed up around the coals as suddenly the day became night and rain began to pour. Even though some of the guys got lost and ran out of fuel and then later encountered a massive leopard, everybody made it out of the game park safely with all of the vehicles.
The next morning I flew back to Nairobi with my parents. It was interesting to observe all the bomas--the Masaai homes--from the air surrounded by massives amounts of open land and winding waterways. After landing, we shopped around town, took pictures of the Karen Blixen home, ate Indian food at the Sarit Center and later met the others who had driven the nine hours from camp. I went with the crew to the airport to say good-bye to those who were flying back to the States.
The next couple days I traveled with my parents and Andy and Debbie to do some more safari in Nakuru and Naivasha. Both places were full of excitement, beginning with some monkeys who lept into our Land Cruiser. They stole an abundance of peaches with the cawkiness to eat them while sitting on the vehicle's window. We laughingly shooed them out, checked into our lodge, then went back out into the wild. We drove past the typical animals: zebra, waterbuck, warthogs, etc until we came right up close to thousands of the deepest pink flamengos draping Lake Nakuru. The lake is alkaline, so they come in droves to feed from it.
We were dazzled, but it was only the beginning. Soon after looking at the flamengos, Andy spotted the first rhino of the trip. A white rhino and its baby crossed the road right in front of us. Then from higher elevation we spotted five more rhino. We saw eight in all. The blessings continued because right after our last rhino sighting, we got a great view of a leopard--another animal we had yet to see in Africa this year. We saw another leopard on our way out of the park the following day.
Thouroughly satisfied with massive animal sightings, we went to the Naivasha country club and took a large pontoon boat to go bird-watching. We saw over forty birds including pelicans, eagles, kingfishers, and hundreds of pipers.
Later that night, we drove back to Nairobi, had a final supper with all of our friends at Java House, and then painstakingly traveled the twenty hour-plus trip back home. Every year it gets harder for me to leave Kenya. I know that just like in America, life probably becomes mundane for the missionaries that stay there year after year. But I think Africa has a certain way of showing something new to those who live in and visit it, whether it be a lion eating a warthog, climate changes, or a creation of friendship with someone from a far away land.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the most spiritual Africa trip, but I did learn a lot. The experience reminded me of the importance of being outside, group interaction, including people in activities, enjoying life in all types of weather, moving on from painful experiences, being silly, keeping hope that some spiritual guys still exist, holding onto one's integrity, being culturally sensitive, connecting with people from all sorts of backgrounds, and ultimately focusing on making someone's life better physically, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually as opposed to just focusing on gaining one's own selfish wishes.
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