San Francicso was the sizznit. Had a great time and i loved the city. Drove and walked through many neighborhoods, got some good food, mad urban knowledge, a basketball game, and this bookstore that almost made me pee myself and want to move there right away.

unrelatedly, I found thisarticleon a friend's blog. dont read it unless you want to cry.

Flip Mode

I am off to San Francisco this weekend with Rob and Eric.

Goings on this last week:

i have begun my first well-thought out art project. it will be a 3-d multi-media presentation. Beyond that, you'll have to come to Betsy's Art Night next weekend to see it. Or wait till i post pictures.

iPod and Myspace. Two Po-Mo techie youth culture phenomena that have invaded my life and threaten my spirituality. Jacob, dont get too caught up.

Ministry: The Summit St. Bible Club and mentoring two high-schoolers. What am I doing? What am I afraid of? What is God telling me about me? Where to go next? Can I have the grace and patience with myself that God does? What is God doing in them? All questions I have been seeking (and finding) answers to.

Soon to get a California drivers license. A big step for me. New Mexico is always in my heart.

Continued depth, joy, character growth and frustration at work. The school system angers me; education delights me. That is why I must do it.

i have had an increased desire these days to do art...
I feel more and more like i have a sense of which music, images, shapes, colors i want to convey my perspective on the world. I guess i am beginning to hone my ideas of what is beautiful to me.

I wish i could make a short movie. I know what locations i would have, what angles, what music, what lighting....
The only thing is, i am very dry when it comes to ideas for narrative and plot development. If i were to make a film right now, it would be more like a visual poem or a song than a story. it would convey impressions, perspectives---on the contradictions i see around me, the mixture of the beautiful and the ugly, the sublime and mundane. It would be very human, very close to bodies, sounds, breathing, habits, waking, sleeping....but it would hint at the reaching for something beyong human. The transcendence of singing, of intimacy and touch, of creation, language, work, and ultimately, of seeking God.

i dont know, just some ideas.

I need a camera

this is a cool picture my brother look last month from somewhere in northern New Mexico

sometimes i have nothing to say, but i am too prideful and insucure to remain silent

sometimes i feel like i am not as mature or adult as everyone around me

sometimes i feel like my passions are a waste of my time to think about
and a waste of other people's time to talk about

snap out of it

I have been reading this book as a part of my effort this season to take Sabbath more seriously. This verse about ministry flowing from solitude sticks out to me. it concerns judgementalism and compassion.

"judgement creates the distance, the distinction which prevents us from really being with the other"

This strikes to some of my deeper and shameful sinfulness, which is in judging others and being self-righteous. This was plaguing me last semester, and God has been teaching me a lot about my own condition and the (sometimes) painful humility it takes to do something as basic as love others, live daily life with them, and even pray for them.
I picked up a Novena Manual from home when I was there. This is a small booklet published by an order in the Catholic church that is devoted to meditating on and adoring the Precious Blood of Jesus and the sufferings and joys of Mary and Joseph. It has reminded me of the basic truth of my faith, which sadly, i dont think about much when my mind and life are so consumed with action and ministry: That Jesus' blood was Holy and Precious and that for his entire life, he was destined to shed it painfully, every drop, so that my sinfulness could be washed away. There is a solemn beauty in this, which is conveyed wonderfully and worshipfully in the Catholic tradition.
How I need to be reminded of Jesus' blood every day as it is hard to be humble and see myself as no better than others. I need it just as much as they do.

scenes from New Mexico

my so-called life

i'll have some pictures to post up in the next few days

this has felt like a long break. I am glad for it. God met me in ways i would not have expected.

I had not expected to look back into my life as much as i did these last couple weeks. Among other things, it is clear that there is no turning back. The person I have become is very different and more whole than the person i would have become had i stayed and grown here in NM
Praise God for his nurturing of a new creation in me. Yet, as i spent time in old places in old company, it became clear that much of that boy is still in me. Much of the desires, the values, the vices, the habits are still a part of me.
It has been sobering to trace the veins of my woundedness through mementos of my past, as well as in the lives of people from my past who are still struggling (whether they know it or not) Old yearbooks reminded me of my insecurities, social fears, isolation. All the missed opportunities for relationships. Boxes of old letters paint a picture of early, awkward and destructive emotional attachments, addictions, manipulations. Feelings that i did not know how to define or control, and people that i hurt or was hurt by--but also loved and was loved by. The level of depth in some of them was amazing, and i could see that as i moved from one place to another (from home to Pomona, for example) I was very adept at creating myself anew and avoiding the pain or the complications of what i had left behind, not knowing that had i paid attention to those things and stepped into the discomfort, there could have been some healing and blessing for me.

And my friends here. I spent more time with old high-school folk than i usually do, but in the midst of them i felt distant, not one of them. This is not unusual for me when i am home, but what struck me this time was how little had seemed to change in many people's lives. Not only that, but i found out in more detail how sad and hurting some of my friend's lives continue to be. Everyone is searhcing. Everyone i knew from back in the day was earnestly looking for answers. More often than not it was in the form a man or a woman who in the end betrayed and abandoned them. For others it was drugs, for others it was success.

Whatever it is, I remain as one of them. I am a fallen son just like all the fallen sons and daughters around me. But it really made me stop and think-- what is it that I have in Christ that makes me--us--different? What is the meaning of my faith and my redemption? What do i have to offer? What am I accountable and responsible for that they are not? Why do i believe what i believe and do what i do? A part of me feels comfortable with my old friends. I relate to them, i have fun with them. But a deeper part continues to feel a profound unease, almost an anxiety or a fear. It is a fear for them. It is a fear of this world, even a holy fear that you get from knowing the true nature of things.
we are still on the same pilgrimage, beloved by the same father as they are.

i guess when i look back on all the confusing and painful things about my life, one thing i can honestly say is that i have known myself more as i have known God more. When i did not know God, my life was tangled, darkened and a dissipation of my energy and resources. It continues to be those things even now when i chose away from Him. But lest this be just a long depressing reflection on my crappy life--let me say this: It was not crappy. There were many graces, many real joys and many enduring signs and gifts of God's mercy and faithfulness.

I hope to connect more deeply in the future with my family and friends from Albuquerque. Pray that God would grow me in the wisdom, compassion and boldness i will need to go there.

home on the range

i've been home for a week. I'll come back to Pasadena in another week.
Being home is like a vortex, where i am separated from everything about my life in Cali. The distance has been good. Getting my head clear about my life, ministry, spirituality-- has been essential. but i do miss you all

I got an iPod!! my new favorite toy. It hold pictures, too. really good quality ones, so i put a lot of my brother's pics of the family on it.
John was home for a few days along with me. it was great to see him after more than a year.

another highlight of the week was my 5 year high school 'reunion' I dont think i can convey to you the feeling of it. it was strange, surreal, and eeriliy familiar. Everyone talked to the same people they talked to in high school. i guess thats not unusual. But it made it feel like those awkward days all over again. i almost didnt have the guts to go. But it was great to get back with some old friends from MEChA and roll in there like the Brown Squad. Some things never change. I was happy to see some people in particular, and wished i had got more time with them before they left to their respective settlements.
i will be reflecting on this for a while. that, and looking at all my old yearbooks have made me realize some of the roots of my psycoses ;-)

King Kong was awesome, too.

Oh, and if you watch the Rose Parade this year, keep an eye out for the 1st ever NEW MEXICO theme float. It will "reflect the Native, Hispanic and Anglo heritage of the Land of Enchantment"

havent been posting the last couple of weeks.
still here, though

Things are looking up, after a rough couple of weeks.
I am looking forward to the break. 2 weeks at home (and possibly a 60GB iPod?)

here are some pictures of New Mexico at christmas time. notice the luminarias

Bakersfield

here i am at the Virtual Enterprise Business and Trade Fair Competitions in Bakersfield, Kern County California.

I have my own hotel room with king size bed all to myself.

Earlier, Sean, his mom and i had dinner at John's Incredible Pizza-- an all you can eat pizza and gaming extravaganza

Later, all the other students will come back from the convention center after dancing, karaoke, DDR and commence to do whatever high schoolers will do when they are alone with other high schoolers in nice hotel rooms in another city.


Life is funny

Thank you, Hugo, for taking care of our poor

When I read this article it amazed and amused me greatly, so I had to share it.
I have been interested in Hugo Chavez since taking Latin American history classes in college and seeing the documentary "The Revolution Will be Televised" about his coup and rise to power. I think he is one of the most interesting and important world leaders of our time.

Anyway...most of the time you hear about him it is because he is butting heads with Bush. This is very important, becasue for most of the last 40 years, Latin American leaders have gone along smoothly with neo-liberalism, global capitalism, right-wing politics and being political and military clients of the US in the region. Chavez reperents the resurgence of the Populist, leftist leader of days gone by, when charismatic and controversial figures came to power by delivering on their promises to help the poor. Chavez has been the champion and spokes person for the working poor, land reform, environmentalism, anti-US economic imperialism and every thing else that is good and decent that George Bush hates.

So here is old Hugo, ever the villian, the thorn in the side of the Bush Administration, providing a service to AMERICA's POOR! What is wrong with this picture? How beautifully does this illustrate what is going on in our times?!

Recently, the US Oil Industry has come under fire from even Republicans in Congress who say the oil companies should be accountable for the MASSIVE profits that have been made this last year with the extraordinarily high gas prices (price gouging motivated by pure greed) US lawmakers have been saying that the oil companies should be giving some of that money to the benefit of the people. now, you know the amount of money they made with the high gas prices must be obcene when you hear REPUBLICANs calling for acocuntability!

So......here is Venezuela, also experiencing a windwall of oil revenue from the high gas prices. And what do they do? in addition to helping their own poor, they gave discounted gas to heat AMERICAN poor homes during the winter!!

Love your enemies.
Amen

I think that one of the the things that Jesus wants us to understand about Him and about life is this: That there is something profound about pain. There is a way in which we can, in our human pain, really be human with (and thus, love) our neighbor.
Our pain, our longing for an end to pain is what unites us all. We spend our lives trying to hide it, escape it, numb it or understand it.
What Jesus did was come into the world's pain, and make it his own. In this way he became fully human.

How can we become fully human? How can we love our neighbor?

Every day i am around people who struggle to live through circumstances that are painful. I aid a student who was born unable to walk or move his limbs. I live in a neighborhood where people have to work very hard for the things that they need, and broken relationships result in fighting, depression, and self-destruction. I myself struggle with the sins, flaws and limitations that keep me from the life God wanted for me.

Here is where we can connect. My pain, is their pain. I can view my pain as the pain. The agony that defines our expereince as humans who are living not as we are meant to live, but marred and blinded by sin.

Truly this is the mercy that God showed us. The mercy of knowing our pain and making it his. This is my redemption, it is your redemption, it is the redemption of our communities as we go forth and do the same. You can truly love someone and serve them when you see that their pain is your pain, I think

Every person knows deep in their soul that things are not the way they should be. we wait for the Kingdom, but what does it mean to wait but to suffer-with? Com-passion

sweet

Currently Listening

I recently had the desire to explore more acoustic emo music. I became enamoured of this genre back during my freshman year of college when Joel, my friend and fellow music fanatic introduced me to such artists as pedro the Lion, Damien Jurado, Songs Ohia, Other Desert Cities and Starflyer 59 to name a few. There was a particular quality of the music that was simple and soft, and spoke to my soul's inner depths....the part of me that would just want to stare out the window and then write down some free-form poetry. It was a nice compliment to the hip hop, funk and soul that dominated my musical repertoire.
Here is something i recently picked up--"Veneer" By Jose Gonzalez-- and a quote from a Spin magazine review

"González is a Swedish-born Argentine folkie who exhales snatches of rainy-day poetry and finger-picks his guitar like he's backing a suicidal flamenco dancer. But his debut betrays no melodrama, just an exquisitely brittle, bruised articulation of how bewildering and devastating it can be to wake up every day and watch your hope slip away before the coffee is even made." A-

Other stuff....the new Los Lobos album. Some of the best and coolest Mexican traditional music performers.


And i am waiting for this in the mail--- more melancholy, poetry-inspiring instrumental/sample-based hip hop. (trip-hop, as it were). A local producer known as Dday One. The album is called "Loop Extensions"

feats of strength

Last night was a fun time. The Northwest Neighbors men all faced off one by one with Greg to honor him and his Germanic/Midwestern roots by wrestling. It was an evening of epic struggles, pitting man against man, intern against intern, executive director against intern, and people group against people group.
Props to Greg for emerging victorious in about 7 of 9 matches. His valor and stamina were stunning (or maybe that was the blow to the skull i revieved when Greg and I accidentally butted heads)

Happy Brithday, Greg

Querida

waves of grainy cumbias and guajiras flutter through the
walls and in between doorways
sad strains, with dust and shards of sunlight
a cloudy vase sits atop a thickly painted red table
only a fiery dead rose inside

the times of needing her are over
left to ponder unknown words and intentions
trapped and aching in this space
in this space
in this city
cracked concrete, smell of taqueria, cars moving
human bodies from hogar to trabajo
bungalows and apartments hiding millions of
stories under cover of sooty palm trees.
Kissing her was like kissing tragedy
like embracing something that was only a word away from
becoming a phantom
together, we forgot the path ahead of us
lived solemnly backward and backward in time
whispering echoes of chocolate,
café con leche
incense smoke
and Mayan pyramids

the needle sputters and pops as it glides over the record
I strain to hear her voice—
that sound that brought colors to life
and made all songs repeat her name,
her name

we carved our stories into the loneliness of nameless streets
walked them
made each other laugh and
sing on them
and shared the joy of watching
a neighborhood change and grow

her voice now massages fading mysteries
into my mind
her memory is a dark deer
quiet breath into chill air
a twitch
then gone
onto a mossy mountain path I will never find