Mountains.

Homesick is a funny feeling. One that I rarely cross paths with, to be honest. Restlessness is usually a more accurate description of my state of mind. Normally I don't crave the familiar; I long for the unexplored. I'm always on to the next, on to the next, on to the next. But today I miss all the things I've seen before. I especially miss the mountains. Few things remind me of God's greatness like a big, imposing mountain. I've always been fascinated with them; even as a kid, I used to try and comprehend how that huge rock was finite compared to God.  I loved them. Every time our family took the weekend to go hiking, as we approached that place on the highway where the outline of the mountains starts to peek over the horizon, my face would light up and I would feel the need to confirm with my parents in the front seat that it was in fact "the mountains" that I was seeing. I'd get so antsy to be in their midst that every mile from there on in was more exciting than the next.

Now, living in a place where they call a slight gradual incline "the mountain", the rockies are a reminder of home. They're that token thing that I miss. It's not like I miss the actual rocks, or that seeing them will bring me a sense on completeness. What I miss about home is the people. But for some reason these towering mountain ranges are what I long for.  Maybe it's that childish feeling I'm actually nostalgic for. Being so excited about the very moment that you're in that you just don't even know how you are going to stay seated in that back seat. So content with the right now, and so excited about what's to come.  I'm not sure.  

East. West. Best. Everything Else.

Today I was feeling very west-coastish; is that an adjective?  For some reason I was longing to drink a JJ Bean chai latte and walk the coast of Vancouver, Seattle or Portland.  All day I was craving Portland's wonderful city transit and good recycling program, and Vancouver's unceasing dreariness.  Sometimes part of me is upset and how my body limits me to being in one place at a time.  I long to experience all that life can possibly offer me. I want to know all people, and see all places, and experience all culture. I want to hear the best music and smell the best smells. I want to take in all of life's rawness. Even if it hurts; part of me wants to know the pain that other people experience. I want to love. And not just love for my own sake, but experience selfless love. I want to jump off the tallest things and swim into the depths.  To experience all seasons without waiting or to get on a train and not know where it's going. To sleep on a stranger's couch. To lie on a beach in the middle of a snowstorm.  To drink the world's best coffee or smoke the best tobacco.  To eat cheap donuts and talk to uninteresting people; to experience the mundane but see it's beauty. I want to sit in a lecture of every university. I want to experience the stereotypical - to watch the american past time, to skate in central park, to fall in love in Paris. 

In some senses movies have cheapened these things for us; we will never have that perfectly lined up moment. But yet, I think they have enriched these things too. They place in us a longing for experience, and the feeling that comes with that experience, that we would probably never otherwise dream of. How sad is it that we have to let someone else do our dreaming for us?  

"I Believe"

I suppose most of these thoughts stemmed from the discussion we had at home church last night. For those of you who just thought "what's home church?" - it's more or less a trendy way to say Bible study.

So we were talking about Ephesians 5:1-20; in verse eight it says: "For you were once in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light..."

Live as children of light. 

Wow. That is a huge calling. I feel like we have a tendency to over- metaphor-ize things are therefore entirely disregard them. How influential would we be if we walked out the door every morning and exhibited Jesus' truth in literally everything we did. 

As an example... So let's say, you grow up your whole life thinking the colour we say is blue, is in fact Blue. Just as we've grown up hearing "women are sexual objects, indulge in all things, work towards your own advancement." And then someone comes along and says, no -- you've got it all wrong. Blue is Purple. Believe me and live the rest of your life accordingly. Now, first of all, if you said "I believe you", you would be making a pretty bold statement. If, from there, you went and submerged yourself underwater in front of a bunch of people to proclaim that in fact you now felt with your whole self that "Blue IS Purple", you would be saying a lot. Now, if you really believed this new truth it would change anything. Your perception of the world would be shattered. Or enhanced entirely. You choose. Everything you saw that you once saw as Blue would now be Purple, how enlightening would that be? Would you not want to tell everyone about how everything we'd ever been told was a distortion of reality, and you now had the key to Truth? 

But here's the crazy thing. Jesus essentially did this. He came and said, your society is marred. Here is the Truth. And we said, "oh yeah, cool - I believe you." Maybe some people got excited about it, but the majority of us (about 90% of North America) said, okay cool, so... how little can I do and get to heaven? People! BLUE IS PURPLE. Everything is changed. We have found TRUTH. Why are our lives not completely changed by it? Why aren't we sharing this amazing revelation we've been told? Why are we letting the rest of the world live with their eyes closed. 

We are children of Light.

Banksy; Modern Day Genius

So this week I've had a difficult time focussing to say the least...

In my lack of learning about cells and western civilization I have found myself once again enjoying the clever mystery characterized by Banksy.

This man is seriously a genius. He says so much while boldly defying societal norms.

Here's a few of my favourite quotes... (the pictures kept not working)

“You're mind is working at its best when you're being paranoid.
You explore every avenue and possibility of your situation
at high speed with total clarity.” - Banksy

“The greatest crimes in the world are not committed by people breaking the rules but by people following the rules. It's people who follow orders that drop bombs and massacre villages”  - Banksy

"Any advertisement in public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It belongs to you. It's yours to take, rearrange and re-use. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.”  - Banksy

Toronto; not so bad

There are few places I've been that I would say I genuinely didn't like. In a boring town there is usually something unique to be found, in an urban cement-covered city somebody has usually expressed art somewhere tucked away in a corner.  Even in Rome, a city I didn't enjoy whatsoever, the beauty of their architecture is undeniable. (And the Gelato is good, too.)

 I've trekked from Vancouver to Montreal, and up to the Yukon at varying points in my two decades of Canadian inhabitance, but for some reason always avoided Toronto. Debatably, the centre of the country; at least in terms of commerce.  So last weekend, I finally went. I expected a cold, skyscraper-ridden, empty feeling metropolis. But I was pleasantly surprised. Everywhere I looked it seemed as though cultural diversity was prominent. While wandering through Chinatown to the Kensington Market, I felt as though I had left my home country and in fact entered into something entirely foreign.  Between the smells of fish out in the open, and an overwhelming montage of colourful scarves and blankets, the scene from the matrix that i'd envisioned was nowhere to be found.  Sure, Starbucks was everywhere and you didn't have to look far to see someone wearing a suit, but that also added an element of it's own to the feel of the city.  In Vancouver, you don't have to look far to find an environmental-supporting hipster, or an underground indie concert, but a little further you'd have to go to find a career-driven twenty five year-old rushing off to a business meeting. I think I liked Toronto because it felt like it had some of everything.  The "fringe of society" loving people were there, there was music, and art and poverty, but there was also people of importance in terms of how our country functions, finance majors and people key in insurance firms. At times, I think we get so involved in finding culture outside of culture, that we forget that the suit-wearing, Starbucks-carrying, business-minded people are just as much of our society as those of us that vote Green. (And yes, I vote green).

In conclusion, Toronto is now on my list of favs. 

First days in Ontario

note the person on the right- hilarious!

I packed my life into three suitcases, I hugged everyone I love, shed a few tears, and got on flight WS0404 to Hamilton.  For four hours I sat restlessly, with my mindset nestling between anxious and excited.  The resounding words of "the captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign" finally signalled the end of my flight.  I stepped off, anticipating a legendarily warm Ontario summer day, only to be welcomed by a overcast gloomy sky. I heaved my bags off the luggage carousal, and was on my way to Redeemer.

me in my snazzy dorm

So now I'm here --

hard at work at my job...

The past few days have been filled [literally- FILLED] with meeting new people.  A sea of new faces, each one with a story yet to be discovered by me.  It seems as though I cannot shake hands fast enough around here.  Classes started yesterday.  My Wednesdays rudely begin at 8am (thank goodness for coffee).  Sociology, Biology, Philosophy, History and English fill the time until dinner. I didn't know my brain was capable of absorbing this much information, but I guess it's going to have to.  At nine I head to the Rec. centre on campus and perform the excruciating duties involved in my job: a few hours of facebooking, maybe a bit of homework, some online t.v. and maybe a blog post or two. At 1:00am I lock the door at the Rec. Centre and head to bed. And that's a day in the life at Redeemer!

The Jump is Scarier than the Fall

The Jump was Scarier than the Fall

Last week I jumped head first, intrusting my life in a harness.  I've wanted to bungee jump for ages, so I finally did it.  I looked forward to it all day, and it wasn't until I got the very edge, with my toes dangling over the edge that fear set in. At that point you're strapped in, you're standing there ready to jump, turning around isn't an option for anyone with a sliver of pride. So they count down ... 3...2...1 and then, you have no choice - you've comitted. If you try and run back, chances are the heavy cord would pull you down and make for a painful jump, you have to just dive foreward and make the most of the fall. So that's what I did.  I jumped. And all that anticipation, all the fear, came together into an exhilerating surge of adrenaline as gravity took over.  And then, as quickly as it started, the free fall is over, and you're back on your feet as though you'd never took the plunge at all. I guess this is how my life feels right now, I've got my toes dangling over the edge.

6 weeks.

In 6 weeks, everything changes.

 

Leaving my home city is something i've idealized in my head for years.  Since half way through highschool i've dreamed of packing everything, giving this city a wave and returning only for major holidays -- at which point everyone will express how desolate their lives feel without me, and perhaps throw a parade in my honour.

But now it's real.  Today I looked at the phone. July 23rd, it said. In other words: July just flew by without you noticing, just like August will.  'Home' is no longer going to mean anything.  In a sense, home is my parent's house -- but even that feels like somewhere that I left memories, and I no longer hold any personal attachment to.  My room now will soon be filled with other people's things, and they won't give thought to the conversations I had in there, the things I learned while sitting against that wall, the cries I had in that room.  And why would they? It will be more theirs than it is mine.

Rediscovering myself scares me, a little bit.  What if I don't like who I am without all my stuff? What if Hilary, without her friends, family and church has become quite a disgusting person? 

What if I wake up one morning and realize I don't want to come back?