On Sunday we attended the fabulous "We Are One" concert at Lincoln Memorial. We wandered about halfway up the reflecting pool (in the dry area, called the grass) about 11 a.m. But judging on our present need for food, we decided that time and activity would only increase this necessity. So off we went in search of sustenance.
Why the hell doesn't this Mall have a food court? Can I get an Amen? Amen! Amen!
(I am getting ahead of myself in capturing these memories!)
By the time we wandered back, the Mall was overflowing with people. So we found ourselves standing in between the World War II Memorial and the Washington Monument. How far is this? Far enough to really appreciate our view on Tuesday.
I think the best word I've come up with is "surreal." I was watching these incredible performers on a large screen, but they were relatively close to me. But not close enough to see, really. I did hear Joe Biden (oh, Joe Biden) on the speakers a split-second before I saw him on the screen. Does that make sense? I'm saying I knew I was there, and so was Bono, and Stevie Wonder, and assorted celebs giving cheesy odes to Lincoln.
But it was pretty cool.
It turns out that Garth Brooks is actually an amazing entertainer. I don't know why he included "singin' whiskey and rye" each refrain - pretty sure alcohol is still front and center in those phrases - but I forgave him and happily sang along. And who didn't sing a little bit louder now when he covered "Shout"? Yes, now I remember. I really am here in D.C., celebrating the inaugural events with hundreds of thousands, and millions in spirit.
Sweet.
Speaking of rhythm and blue-oohs!, it is possible to feel star-struck watching a Jumbotron:
Stevie Wonder is my hero.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
the offer
I happened to be turning 25 years old on the 15th of January. It seems significant. It sounds cool. And I wanted to celebrate in grand style, naturally. But I hadn't thought of anything epic enough to mark the occasion.
I guess there's always Europe.
But by chance, my darling friend Stephen, college buddy and Obama youth vote organizer extraordinaire, called me up for coffee a few weeks ago. Over my green chai and his mocha we discussed our future plans.
Damn you economy.
We're both pretty optimistic, actually. Also, smart. Hire us!
Anyway. He mentioned that he would be attending the inauguration of our dear president-elect, Barack Obama. And he had an extra ticket.
Luckily, my schedule was pretty open.
Our plans fell into place pretty quickly. Sure, I didn't have a place to stay until 3 days before we left, but a friend of a friend offered us the empty rectory of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Arlington, Virginia.
We drove out with a couple of friends. There was snow, but we made it.
And here is where I'm losing inspiration. I don't think every single detail in chronological order will be that interesting to you, dear reader, or me, dear writer. But there are several moments that stick out from the days in D.C.
Let me see if I can capture them.
I guess there's always Europe.
But by chance, my darling friend Stephen, college buddy and Obama youth vote organizer extraordinaire, called me up for coffee a few weeks ago. Over my green chai and his mocha we discussed our future plans.
Damn you economy.
We're both pretty optimistic, actually. Also, smart. Hire us!
Anyway. He mentioned that he would be attending the inauguration of our dear president-elect, Barack Obama. And he had an extra ticket.
Luckily, my schedule was pretty open.
Our plans fell into place pretty quickly. Sure, I didn't have a place to stay until 3 days before we left, but a friend of a friend offered us the empty rectory of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Arlington, Virginia.
We drove out with a couple of friends. There was snow, but we made it.
And here is where I'm losing inspiration. I don't think every single detail in chronological order will be that interesting to you, dear reader, or me, dear writer. But there are several moments that stick out from the days in D.C.
Let me see if I can capture them.
oh but I don't KNOW what to SAY
Anne Lamott talks about the importance of writing, if I may be so French, "Shitty first drafts."
I hope I don't offend, but I curse a lot in real life. Except when I'm around people who curse all the time (usually inserting four-letter words, coupled with "-ing" into sentences as adjectives. I hate that).
Anyway, sometimes I don't write much because I am so terrified of writing something horrible and being eternally judged by my otherwise loving family and friends for my lack of brilliance.
Yeah, that happens, like, all the time, I'm sure.
I was a creative writing major, after all. I am supposed to be good at this. Yet I find myself postponing writing anything because I can never conjure up something that measures up to my standards.
I am trying to break this habit.
Especially because I happen to feel inspired to write, like, on an hourly basis. I don't think that happens to everyone.
Also, I had a pretty incredible experience recently. So I think I might write about that, for posterity's sake, you know. (Feigning humility here.)
The inauguration. It's a celebration, bitches, and I got to party it up. And by that I mean stand in the cold and break into tears and catch bronchitis.
It was epic.
I hope I don't offend, but I curse a lot in real life. Except when I'm around people who curse all the time (usually inserting four-letter words, coupled with "-ing" into sentences as adjectives. I hate that).
Anyway, sometimes I don't write much because I am so terrified of writing something horrible and being eternally judged by my otherwise loving family and friends for my lack of brilliance.
Yeah, that happens, like, all the time, I'm sure.
I was a creative writing major, after all. I am supposed to be good at this. Yet I find myself postponing writing anything because I can never conjure up something that measures up to my standards.
I am trying to break this habit.
Especially because I happen to feel inspired to write, like, on an hourly basis. I don't think that happens to everyone.
Also, I had a pretty incredible experience recently. So I think I might write about that, for posterity's sake, you know. (Feigning humility here.)
The inauguration. It's a celebration, bitches, and I got to party it up. And by that I mean stand in the cold and break into tears and catch bronchitis.
It was epic.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
ch-ch-changes
God can be accessible within, not because I'm so amazing or brilliant or talented, but because God's loving energy is so vast.
I am aware of my human failings, God knows, but to give in to perpetual self-loathing is to miss the purpose of God's presence in each of our lives.
Isn't that what we are asked to do?
A passive life is a terrible thing to lead.
Yes, I have heard the message for nearly 25 years.
Yet, if I choose to wait for the Kingdom of God, don't I prevent it from taking place here on earth, where change is so desperately needed?
The Christian message now is not love and peace and inclusiveness. But rather the message I have learned is that I have been blessed because I happened to have been born into a nice Protestant family.
How terribly convenient! All the religious ideas floating about, and I picked the right one!
Yes, I am a chosen one indeed.
But what happens when I just can't believe anymore? And why do I feel afraid to let go of these old ideas that no longer fit with my reality? And what kind of love is that?
Love means allowing people to change.
God, too.
I am aware of my human failings, God knows, but to give in to perpetual self-loathing is to miss the purpose of God's presence in each of our lives.
Isn't that what we are asked to do?
A passive life is a terrible thing to lead.
Yes, I have heard the message for nearly 25 years.
Yet, if I choose to wait for the Kingdom of God, don't I prevent it from taking place here on earth, where change is so desperately needed?
The Christian message now is not love and peace and inclusiveness. But rather the message I have learned is that I have been blessed because I happened to have been born into a nice Protestant family.
How terribly convenient! All the religious ideas floating about, and I picked the right one!
Yes, I am a chosen one indeed.
But what happens when I just can't believe anymore? And why do I feel afraid to let go of these old ideas that no longer fit with my reality? And what kind of love is that?
Love means allowing people to change.
God, too.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
God within
Maybe Jesus was special only because he KNEW he could access God within.
I say "only," but don't we all search for this?
No?
Of course we do not. Instead we rely on a Savior to rescue us from our own human nature.
How could God despise us, punish us, separate us from divinity because of our humanity?
We are weak and foolish, and we all have the capacity to be very cruel.
Or is it just me?
But this is who we are. These are the limits we face, our own glass ceiling as we gaze heavenward.
But it's awfully convenient to be human, don't you think?
We have no responsibilities to fulfill our own divine nature. Jesus did it for us.
But suppose we all have this capacity to access God within us?
Not because of our own massive human egos. But because if we can somehow get past them, these egos that strangle us in the binds of self-loathing, religious guilt, insecurity and pride, then we can see what has been here all along, throughout time, patiently waiting.
God.
I say "only," but don't we all search for this?
No?
Of course we do not. Instead we rely on a Savior to rescue us from our own human nature.
How could God despise us, punish us, separate us from divinity because of our humanity?
We are weak and foolish, and we all have the capacity to be very cruel.
Or is it just me?
But this is who we are. These are the limits we face, our own glass ceiling as we gaze heavenward.
But it's awfully convenient to be human, don't you think?
We have no responsibilities to fulfill our own divine nature. Jesus did it for us.
But suppose we all have this capacity to access God within us?
Not because of our own massive human egos. But because if we can somehow get past them, these egos that strangle us in the binds of self-loathing, religious guilt, insecurity and pride, then we can see what has been here all along, throughout time, patiently waiting.
God.
what does this mean?
Recently a friend mentioned that the Apostles' Creed no longer means what it once did.
A few days later I had a dream:
I was in a church, maybe even the one I used to know. And I rose with my peers to recite a creed, some collection of words written centuries ago to express dogmatic ideals.
Yet in this dream, I knew the words but could not speak. And suddenly the familiar words became something new. Still English, but I could not make sense of the phrases echoing around me.
Meaningless.
After a few sentences, the stoic mumbles of the crowd grew quiet and I could only hear one voice. It was the voice of a man I did not know.
A man, certainty echoing in his voice as he spoke these words of truth.
These meaningless words.
A few days later I had a dream:
I was in a church, maybe even the one I used to know. And I rose with my peers to recite a creed, some collection of words written centuries ago to express dogmatic ideals.
Yet in this dream, I knew the words but could not speak. And suddenly the familiar words became something new. Still English, but I could not make sense of the phrases echoing around me.
Meaningless.
After a few sentences, the stoic mumbles of the crowd grew quiet and I could only hear one voice. It was the voice of a man I did not know.
A man, certainty echoing in his voice as he spoke these words of truth.
These meaningless words.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
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