This week I have been eaten alive by the sixth graders I have for the week at Longfellow Elemantar, a zebra on a lifeboat with a tiger, but now things are settling. I actually started a blog about it asking for prayers yesterday, but got sidetracked. But I did ask the guys in my BSF group to pray for me, as well as a few others. Those prayers and the ones my heart let out these last few days have been so clearly received and answered. God has given me good spirits and wisdom in dealing with problems (from which I am taking a vacation). I even was complimented by one of the supervisors for the way I handled things today. God is faithful and He will! Dont get me wrong, the kids have certainly not been transformed into angels. I still am facing constant challenges by these students, but, boy, I got hope. It surely will not dissappoint.

Freaky, isn’t it?

I am on the road to getting my motorcycle license and am steering through the the obstacle course of theMinnesota Motorcycle/ Motoized Bicycle Manual. *ba-dum-bump-chhh* Anyway, most of it common sense and I am pleased to find that I have already made habits of much of the advice, but there are a few pieces of info that I wouldn’t have guessed had I taken the knowledge test before perusing the manual. For example, my instincts tell me that when I am braking a two wheel vehicle I should always choose the rear brake over the front-wheel brake(this from my experience flipping over the handlebars of non-motorized bicycles), but the manual points out that it is okay rely on the front brake alone (it provides 70% of the stopping power), but riders should get into the habit of using both brakes together in the case of an emergency stop, such as if I were cruising down the road and missed the “Wildabeast Crossing” sign and a herd of wildabeasts suddenly stampede across the road; I may need to stop quickly using both brakes.

I also found that the law gives motorcylist “affirmative defense” against laws car drivers must obey. This “affirmative defense” means that if some jerk is tailgating the motoryclist may carry a baseball bat and smash the tailgater’s headlights (the catch is that the driver must always have both hands on the handlebars, so this is only applicable if carrying a passenger; In which case the “affirmative defense” rights transfer to the passenger). Just kidding. Actually it means that if a traffic sensor doesn’t detect the motorcyle at a controlled intersection the cyclist may legally make a left turn on a red light.

I found it ammusing when the manual told me that “a larger person may not accumulate as high a concentration of alchohol for each drink consumed” because “they have more blood and bodily fluids.” Mmmm, juicy giants.

I am excited to get my license especially since my dad has an older, classic- looking Honda that he is fixing up and giving to me. I can’t wait to pack my bike up “evenly” and “with the weight low and in front of the rear axle” for weekend roadtrips.

You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you’re always in a compartment, and because you’re used to it you don’t realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You’re a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.

On a cycle the frame is gone. You’re completely in contact with it all. You’re in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it’s right there, so blurred you can’t focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness.
Robert Persig from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I’ve just finished with a two week break and am glad to get back to a solid schedule. Even though I hate having to leave my warm tent of an electric blanket I am better for it. When I am on break and have not really premeditated a schedule and list of things to accomplish I seem to spend my time idle, twiddling my spiritual thumbs. I get kinda depressed and lose inertia. My prayer life slows and I take infrequent dips into scripture. Sometimes in the past I have made a list of short term goals/projects that I could attack, but I failed to prepare one this break and I ended up watching way too many movies. I didn’t exercise and I feel the worse for it. Don’t get me wrong, I did many meaningful things over break, not the least being visititations with much beloved friends and family. It was the space in between that I spent unwisely. Breaks likes these leave me reeling in a bipolar funk that takes at least a week for me to get my head above it. Funk! I really start annoying the crap out of myself. Times such as these the West, with all its illusions of escape, pulls on my muscles as if I were at the ledge of a bungee jump.

The queer thing is is that time still moves quickly and I find myself rushing to get the few things I had planned to accomplish done. Echk! God free my soul of pointless distraction!

Here’s a poem I wrote literally as the title notes. April Fool’s Day 2004. Anyway, it’s not really crafted in my usual way, but it is one that is very personal. It was written, maybe in 5-10 minutes with hardly any changes made, both of which are extrememly rare for me. I tend to obsess sometimes at the details and tuck into ever cranny some deep or double meaning. I guess this is really more of a outpouring and prayer than poem:

* Note: You may recognize a certain phrase and think, “Hey, he stole that from October Project!” Yes. That was my intention.

In response to a dream on April 1st

What have I done?
What have I done?
I’ve screwed up the future,
the present,
Our past
is soiled;
Her heart is stiffened.
O God, knead the many
tightly gripped knots;
Loosen the clots;
Let her love. Let her love.

But Lord! Fill in my heart!
The six foot hole there,
fill it with everlasting!
(Bury my lovely lovely lovely -)
(Bury my lovely lovely lovely -)
Bury me with her.

Then raise us, O Jesus,
Raise us one.
_______________

Why do I dream of her still
Two years and still
The dreams –
Still the dreams, O Father!
Still the dreams.
Or kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
_______________

Lord, Father God, Jesus.
I pray she is healing
I pray she can see
through the thick poultice
You’ve buried her in;
You’re burning me in.
She’s right next to me,
Isn’t she?
Right next to my very side.
Lord, Father God, Jesus.
Raise us.
Raise us one.
________________

Wake up, my child, wake up
and remember!
You’re not with her anymore.
You’ve torn apart what I put together.
Remember her eyes.
Remember her freckles.
Remember her laugh.
Remember her touch.
Remember her lips.
Remember her joy, her love and hope,
Remember her pain.
Remember her weeping.
Remember her praying.
Remember her leaving.
Remember Me pulling.
Remember Me holding.
Remember Me rolling.
Remember Me running,
Pulling, holding, rolling
With you when you came home.
Remember this, son, when you want to die.
I will take care of her
and you will still cry.

Stephanie Lewis encouraged me to write new poetry. As it happened to be I had one brewing inside of me. I think I just needed that little sisterly push. So here’s the latest (as of last night). Forgive any quarks:

SCENE FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD

She wrecklessly threw her arms around him,
Backpack knocking her off balance,
Before she, beautifully awkward, fell
Into a bus line proptious.
[He turns and steps.]
His heart, turned alkalescent, rheumatic
from a child, into his stomach
Melts and bubbles, bestirring chemic brew,
Bestowing God’s breath and long steps.

She opens a window to wave to her surrogate.
[Wave. Wave returned.]
The smell of leaves being burned
And the threaten of twilight
Push the bus out of sight.

[He leaps.]
Old wings unfold patched, and tightened pinions,
By the eight-year-old blindly.
In the instant of a hug she seamed a saint.
[Flight of the saint.]

Friday of last week I went to see Shawn McDonald at the Cup O Joy in Green Bay. I liked his music but what I enjoyed the most was his sincerity. It seemed like genuine worship to a Father who saved him six years ago. Maybe it was because when he sang he never open his eyes. They say that’s a performance faux pas and I can see why: the line between the audience and the stage disappeared and it didn’t feel like and obligation to worship with him. It was a refreshing split from an American Idol culture.

Before I saw the concert there were certain stylistic things he did in his singing that seemed really showy or “put on,” but after seeing and meeting him I believe that he is simply sharing the great talent God has infused in him. No doubt it still was a performance, but without pretense; God was(and is) first.

According to a sticker on his CD cover he’ll be touring with the David Crowder Band later this fall. I strongly suggest listening to his music and/or seeing him live.

“God is alive and moving.” – Shawn McDonald at the Cup O Joy, G.B.

In Hawaii I have 17 neices and nephews from my half brothers and sisters. This last trip, the one from which I returned yesterday, I got to spend some time with them. I love being an uncle. I got emails from my family in Hawaii before I even returned to Minnesota saying “We miss you! Come back soon.”

What’s so great about being an uncle is that I get a taste of what the joys of having children are before having children and experiencing the not so joyful parts. There’s a natural love that swirls inside me for these kids.

I’ve considered moving to Hawaii in a couple of years, the number one reason being my family that I have just started to get to know. Brothers and sisters that have been fading from my childhood memories are actual people to me again!

Most of all, I miss my dad. He can be very close minded and stubborn, but he’s also one of the most joyful and generous men I know. There are certain idiosyncracies that I find in him that give me answers to myself. There are pieces missing that, when I am with my family there and on that island, are filled. I also know that if I lived there, the parts that have been in place for most of my life will be waiting to be taken in again. My life and love is split by a nine hour flight.

I just got my round-trip ticket to visit my dad (he’s the one in the far right of my banner squating yellow on a tree branch) in Hawaii for the month of September! WOOHOO!!! And not at a bad price either: $512 total! Oh yeah, baby. It’s been five years since I’ve seen him; since the wedding. It’s been about six years since I’ve been in Hawaii. It’s about time I headed back.

I’m am so glad God has opened this opportunity for me. I’v been thinking that I need to do this for a while. My dad is already 68 yrs. old. So, I’ll finish up teaching summer school on the 23rd of July, be preparing for the dance shows I’ll be doing the third and fourth weekends of August, and then I’m off!

Yes, and then I’m off.

I think I’ll try surfing this time…

Yes, yes, yes. Been a while.

Anway, just saw last night’s matinee showing of the movie “Dodgeball”. The previews looked really funny and, yep, there were funny parts, but it went about two steps beyond the last Austin Powers movie in raunchy jokes and four leaps beyond in defrauding women.

I went with my step-dad and I was totally embarassed that I reccomended it, and even worse, he paid for us both. Another sad thing is that I told my students (I’m teaching summer school to freshman at Johnson) that they should miss this movie, but when I told them that it was raunchy and degrading to women it seemed to make them even more anxious to see it (they guys, at least).

The jokes hardly held anything but shock. I can’t see (or I don’t want to see) this one-up way of making movies going on much longer before it becomes porn. No wonder, NO WONDER males in this country can’t control themselves… but that’s old news. Isn’t it?

Anyway, this movie has gotten more than enuf attention from me.