It's been almost a month since I've updated. Chalk it up to the "Middle". (The English put the punctuation on the outside of the close quotes if it was not part of the phrase in the quotes. I've always liked that much better than the American way, but it gets circled on papers a lot.).
The Middle has always fascinated me. I capitalize it because I think it's one of the most sincere and legitimate states I find myself in most often. Politically speaking, I like the Middle, because I hate the downfalls that come with decisions made at any point on a political spectrum. The Middle affords me time to think, time to solve. But I often realize the Middle isn't actually solving anything, it just expresses my lack of solutions for the issues at hand.
And, even if something has a definite interval of time, the Middle always feels like it will exist and perpetuate indefinitely. High School felt like the Middle, because it came before college. College feels like the Middle because it comes before "real life". (Note the punctuation.). The Middle is where the story occurs: between the clearly defined beginning and end, the Middle exists because of those two. Yet the Middle doesn't always define the story as much as the end and sometimes the beginning, but is that right? Should the Middle be just as important?
I don't know. But what I do know is this: the Middle is a critical emotional existence. And it's happening on England Semester. I wept the other day for the first time on the trip so far. Some people were shocked that it was the first time I've really cried, but I wasn't. It was one day after the exact middle mark of the trip and I think that's so fitting. The Middle kills me every time, no matter how much I enjoy it, no matter how much it satisfies the seemingly-impossible hope that everything will speed up and slow down all at once.
My original hope for this blog post was that I would update the world (and myself) about all the various incredible experiences I've had in the last month, but really, it's turned into this. Whatever this is.
It was hard to leave Ireland. We're heading back on Friday, but we're going to Northern Ireland, which is simultaneously a different place and the same place all at once. When I begin to reflect on Ireland's situation, I find myself so grateful for its hardship; clearly I'm not happy that its people have suffered and continue to suffer through difficult questions of identity, freedom, and peace, but it's questions and broken attempts at answers stream parallel to the humanity of all the battles we face. Ireland is in the Middle with me. They've got their hopes and aspirations hanging from the trees of places they've never found directions to. Their identity, plunged deep into the murky waters of political and religious confusion, visible enough to know it's tangible but distorted by the waves and ripples of finite time.
The answers are in the infinite. And so is the hope. We know God has no beginning and no end. He also has no Middle.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Root Beer Is For The Yanks
I have reliable internet for the first time since August!
I forgot my password to this blog and just tried to remember for about 40 minutes. But I'm online, logged in, and ready to update. If I was "good" at blogging, I'd be updating frequently. But that's definitely not the case, especially when the internet makes it nearly impossible to contact the world back home. I guess I've made some decisions about this blog in the down time: I'm not going to explain everything I do everyday, because that's tedious and there's just too much, and I'm not going to write this blog to try to convince anyone I'm having a good time.
Eating in the UK has been interesting, for sure. I've been trying all kinds of foods (including duck, Turkish and Greek cuisine, etc) and pushing the same old ones away. I've come to embrace the fact that I'm an extremely picky eater, which I hadn't realized so much until this summer.
Looking for comfort food is a lot harder than I thought. Mexican food is extremely rare and never looks "legit" enough to eat. The other day we went to get pizza and I shared one with a friend. It was called the "American" pizza because it was supposed to be loaded with pepperoni, but when we got it, it was had maybe two or three tiny pepperonis per slice. But here's the strangest part about my diet: root beer is impossible to find in the UK. I spent my summer sucking down Barqs and A&W and now I've had to quit, cold turkey. Dr. Pepper is slowly winning its place back as my favorite soft drink by default.
As far as the trip goes, I spent a few days in the Lake District, basking in what I would imagine is one of the most beautiful places in England. We also spent a few days in York, and then moved on to our week in London. We have three more trips to London, thankfully, to see more of the sights and go through all the incredible museums.
Seeing several plays at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre was absolutely incredible. I stood for a few of them right near the front of the stage, being swept away to a world of theatre that I had never experienced before. The open air theatre creates a wonderful dual atmosphere: on one hand, you feel like you're a part of the action occuring on stage as you can see everyone else in plain daylight, and on the other hand, you feel like you're experiencing something magical, so real yet so outside yourself.
Communication issues suck. I sometimes get homesick. I pick around my food frequently. I don't always sleep enough/well enough. But God has let me know that He is my home. Every single time we've gone to a worship service on this trip, or I've had a really good talk with someone about God, I literally feel like I'm at home. When I step inside a church and people are singing, I'm overwhelmed. I feel like I just got off a train and someone I had been waiting to see for so long is right there on the platform to greet me and has been waiting patiently. You know those moments in movies? The woman or man steps off the train and runs to be embraced by their loved one? It's that feeling, and it's so unreal. God is my refuge. My courage. My Rest. My comfort. My home.
I forgot my password to this blog and just tried to remember for about 40 minutes. But I'm online, logged in, and ready to update. If I was "good" at blogging, I'd be updating frequently. But that's definitely not the case, especially when the internet makes it nearly impossible to contact the world back home. I guess I've made some decisions about this blog in the down time: I'm not going to explain everything I do everyday, because that's tedious and there's just too much, and I'm not going to write this blog to try to convince anyone I'm having a good time.
Eating in the UK has been interesting, for sure. I've been trying all kinds of foods (including duck, Turkish and Greek cuisine, etc) and pushing the same old ones away. I've come to embrace the fact that I'm an extremely picky eater, which I hadn't realized so much until this summer.
Looking for comfort food is a lot harder than I thought. Mexican food is extremely rare and never looks "legit" enough to eat. The other day we went to get pizza and I shared one with a friend. It was called the "American" pizza because it was supposed to be loaded with pepperoni, but when we got it, it was had maybe two or three tiny pepperonis per slice. But here's the strangest part about my diet: root beer is impossible to find in the UK. I spent my summer sucking down Barqs and A&W and now I've had to quit, cold turkey. Dr. Pepper is slowly winning its place back as my favorite soft drink by default.
As far as the trip goes, I spent a few days in the Lake District, basking in what I would imagine is one of the most beautiful places in England. We also spent a few days in York, and then moved on to our week in London. We have three more trips to London, thankfully, to see more of the sights and go through all the incredible museums.
Seeing several plays at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre was absolutely incredible. I stood for a few of them right near the front of the stage, being swept away to a world of theatre that I had never experienced before. The open air theatre creates a wonderful dual atmosphere: on one hand, you feel like you're a part of the action occuring on stage as you can see everyone else in plain daylight, and on the other hand, you feel like you're experiencing something magical, so real yet so outside yourself.
Communication issues suck. I sometimes get homesick. I pick around my food frequently. I don't always sleep enough/well enough. But God has let me know that He is my home. Every single time we've gone to a worship service on this trip, or I've had a really good talk with someone about God, I literally feel like I'm at home. When I step inside a church and people are singing, I'm overwhelmed. I feel like I just got off a train and someone I had been waiting to see for so long is right there on the platform to greet me and has been waiting patiently. You know those moments in movies? The woman or man steps off the train and runs to be embraced by their loved one? It's that feeling, and it's so unreal. God is my refuge. My courage. My Rest. My comfort. My home.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Fair is foul and foul is fair...
When I think of Scotland (or Scots), I think Macbeth, So I Married an Axe Murderer, and Bagpipes. My week in Edinburgh has included two of those three.
Leaving Stratford was bitter sweet, as Linhill became a little home for us abroad. Diana, one of the owners was the sweetest lady ever, and she used "love" as her term of endearment or casual nickname. "Tea or coffee, love?" "How was the play tonight, love?" "You simply blew some fuses and overloaded the internet multiple times, loves." The departure was exciting, though, as it meant we were headed for the world's largest arts festival.
We had a mini/almost fiasco with our transportation via train, but with some time, patience, and a few "those are our seats", we all managed to settle in for the long ride. Edinburgh itself is a beautiful and interesting city. Walking along Princes Street, to one side is shop fronts (many american stores) in the bottom floors of old three story buildings, and to the other is a scenic view of castles, cathedrals, and other generally gothic/revival style buildings. Between the two views is a beautifully maintained park, green as can be from all the rain.
We've seen a variety of shows: an adaptation of Oedipus at Colonus done in Black, southern baptist, gospel singing; an "urban" portrayal of Hamlet by high school aged students from Oakland; a comedic playing of Macbeth; a spin off A Midsummer Night's Dream by a soulful voice and dance troupe; an intensification of the character Laura from The Glass Menagerie; a commentary about the sex slave industry in England; etc. Also, our classes attended two readings by famous authors that we're reading for our courses, Roddy Doyle and Paul Muldoon. They signed our books after the interview and reading.
There's literally too much to post about. I have a personal record of my days, but I don't want to get into too many little details because we pack so much adventure, learning, eating, walking, laughing, and praying into one single day. I have a lot to still reflect on that hopefully I'll be able to blog about soon. Without a doubt, I've had a lot of incredible moments with God and friends, and I've also had a lot of serious, difficult, stimulating and heartbreaking moments that have arisen while watching some of the theatre productions.
Our next stay is in Rydal, in the Lake District. We head out on Tuesday!
Leaving Stratford was bitter sweet, as Linhill became a little home for us abroad. Diana, one of the owners was the sweetest lady ever, and she used "love" as her term of endearment or casual nickname. "Tea or coffee, love?" "How was the play tonight, love?" "You simply blew some fuses and overloaded the internet multiple times, loves." The departure was exciting, though, as it meant we were headed for the world's largest arts festival.
We had a mini/almost fiasco with our transportation via train, but with some time, patience, and a few "those are our seats", we all managed to settle in for the long ride. Edinburgh itself is a beautiful and interesting city. Walking along Princes Street, to one side is shop fronts (many american stores) in the bottom floors of old three story buildings, and to the other is a scenic view of castles, cathedrals, and other generally gothic/revival style buildings. Between the two views is a beautifully maintained park, green as can be from all the rain.
We've seen a variety of shows: an adaptation of Oedipus at Colonus done in Black, southern baptist, gospel singing; an "urban" portrayal of Hamlet by high school aged students from Oakland; a comedic playing of Macbeth; a spin off A Midsummer Night's Dream by a soulful voice and dance troupe; an intensification of the character Laura from The Glass Menagerie; a commentary about the sex slave industry in England; etc. Also, our classes attended two readings by famous authors that we're reading for our courses, Roddy Doyle and Paul Muldoon. They signed our books after the interview and reading.
There's literally too much to post about. I have a personal record of my days, but I don't want to get into too many little details because we pack so much adventure, learning, eating, walking, laughing, and praying into one single day. I have a lot to still reflect on that hopefully I'll be able to blog about soon. Without a doubt, I've had a lot of incredible moments with God and friends, and I've also had a lot of serious, difficult, stimulating and heartbreaking moments that have arisen while watching some of the theatre productions.
Our next stay is in Rydal, in the Lake District. We head out on Tuesday!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Last Day In Stratford
I really should have written this post in iambic pentameter, since all my thoughts are in "Shakespeare" and not regular English. My internal thoughts are literally in Elizabethan English with occasional occurrences of rhyme.
I'm well caught up in my homework, so I have some time to update this.
Tonight is our last night in Stratford-Upon-Avon. We're leaving tomorrow morning for Edinburgh and going to be spending the next week gallavanting about at the Edinburgh Festival, the worlds largest cultural event and arts festival. Insane.
I've started classes this week, and they all seem like they're going to be great experiences. The homework load has been wonderful so far, but the internet is "dodgy" (yep, I'm converting to dodgy rather than sketchy), so that slows down the homework pace.
On Tuesday, a few of us visited Shakespeare's burial site. It's located in a Cathedral down the road from our bed and breakfast (my room has a view of its steeple). I was happy that it hadn't turned into much of a tourist sight like the rest of the Shakespeare-related places in Stratford. The cathedral was gorgeous, but the grave plaque was not that exciting, really. It's strange to make such a big deal out of a piece of ground where someone is buried.
Our group took a day trip to London on Thursday to see two plays at the Old Vic. London looks incredible and I can't wait to spend more time there in the next few months. But here's my story of the day:
My friend Kirsten and I met Jeff Goldblum!
We were downstairs outside the restrooms by the bar of the Old Vic. I noticed him at the bar with his mega-trendy art friends, and immediately told Kirsten. We spent the next few minutes trying to figure out if it was really him and whether we should get a picture. We did the very sneaky "lets turn around and pretend you're talking to me so you can look at him without turning around" trick. Eventually he noticed us spying on him and walked over to meet us! We all talked for about 10 minutes about our trip, his new play in town (which he invited us to - and told us to come hang out backstage) and the show we were all watching that day. He was so nice! He introduced himself as Jeff, and when we decided at the last minute as we were all walking away to get a picture, I yelled out "Jeff!"...since we're clearly on a first name basis.
Also in London, I ate Indian food, and tried Turkish food for the first time. The Indian food was good, especially since I love naan, but the Turkish food was just alright. But I'm trying new things and it's exciting.
Tonight is the last play we're seeing in Stratford. Eight plays in eight days. I'm tired.
I'm well caught up in my homework, so I have some time to update this.
Tonight is our last night in Stratford-Upon-Avon. We're leaving tomorrow morning for Edinburgh and going to be spending the next week gallavanting about at the Edinburgh Festival, the worlds largest cultural event and arts festival. Insane.
I've started classes this week, and they all seem like they're going to be great experiences. The homework load has been wonderful so far, but the internet is "dodgy" (yep, I'm converting to dodgy rather than sketchy), so that slows down the homework pace.
On Tuesday, a few of us visited Shakespeare's burial site. It's located in a Cathedral down the road from our bed and breakfast (my room has a view of its steeple). I was happy that it hadn't turned into much of a tourist sight like the rest of the Shakespeare-related places in Stratford. The cathedral was gorgeous, but the grave plaque was not that exciting, really. It's strange to make such a big deal out of a piece of ground where someone is buried.
Our group took a day trip to London on Thursday to see two plays at the Old Vic. London looks incredible and I can't wait to spend more time there in the next few months. But here's my story of the day:
My friend Kirsten and I met Jeff Goldblum!
We were downstairs outside the restrooms by the bar of the Old Vic. I noticed him at the bar with his mega-trendy art friends, and immediately told Kirsten. We spent the next few minutes trying to figure out if it was really him and whether we should get a picture. We did the very sneaky "lets turn around and pretend you're talking to me so you can look at him without turning around" trick. Eventually he noticed us spying on him and walked over to meet us! We all talked for about 10 minutes about our trip, his new play in town (which he invited us to - and told us to come hang out backstage) and the show we were all watching that day. He was so nice! He introduced himself as Jeff, and when we decided at the last minute as we were all walking away to get a picture, I yelled out "Jeff!"...since we're clearly on a first name basis.
Also in London, I ate Indian food, and tried Turkish food for the first time. The Indian food was good, especially since I love naan, but the Turkish food was just alright. But I'm trying new things and it's exciting.
Tonight is the last play we're seeing in Stratford. Eight plays in eight days. I'm tired.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Beginning
I flew on my first transatlantic-flight. I vomited all over the aisles and myself, but I survived, and so did my baggage. England has already been a whirlwind, and I really need some time to process what I've already seen and experienced.
I'm in Stratford-Upon-Avon, where Shakespeare was born and is buried.
Here are some highlights so far:
1) I'm in England. 2) Our bed and breakfast is absolutely adorable, and our hosts are the sweetest people you could hope to have as hosts. 3) I've seen two Shakespearean plays at the Royal Shakepeare Company's current theatre. 4) I've strolled past and stopped to admire Shakespeare's birthplace. 5) I've seen two real and completely different castles.
Most importantly, I've had some incredible experiences with God already. Kristin said to look out for and make note of my experiences with God as "generational," and that's clearly something I'm already learning. Today we drove from Stratford to Coventry to attend an Anglican service at Coventry Cathedral. The back story: Coventry Cathedral was the only Cathedral bombed out during WWII, and rather than rebuilding the old remains, the church chose to create a new cathedral adjacent to the bombed site. On the alter of the ruins, the words "Father Forgive" were inscribed right after the bombing.
I was so moved by the experience of the ruined cathedral, but even more, the service was an incredible showing of tradition that is still being pressed forward by the spirit. The church is very traditional in its worship, yet their thoughts about forgiveness and reconciliation of the world have sparked their desire to fight as a body for God's spirit to move in reconciling His creation.
There really are no words to describe how beautiful it was to experience.
I need to upload photos soon...
I'm in Stratford-Upon-Avon, where Shakespeare was born and is buried.
Here are some highlights so far:
1) I'm in England. 2) Our bed and breakfast is absolutely adorable, and our hosts are the sweetest people you could hope to have as hosts. 3) I've seen two Shakespearean plays at the Royal Shakepeare Company's current theatre. 4) I've strolled past and stopped to admire Shakespeare's birthplace. 5) I've seen two real and completely different castles.
Most importantly, I've had some incredible experiences with God already. Kristin said to look out for and make note of my experiences with God as "generational," and that's clearly something I'm already learning. Today we drove from Stratford to Coventry to attend an Anglican service at Coventry Cathedral. The back story: Coventry Cathedral was the only Cathedral bombed out during WWII, and rather than rebuilding the old remains, the church chose to create a new cathedral adjacent to the bombed site. On the alter of the ruins, the words "Father Forgive" were inscribed right after the bombing.
I was so moved by the experience of the ruined cathedral, but even more, the service was an incredible showing of tradition that is still being pressed forward by the spirit. The church is very traditional in its worship, yet their thoughts about forgiveness and reconciliation of the world have sparked their desire to fight as a body for God's spirit to move in reconciling His creation.
There really are no words to describe how beautiful it was to experience.
I need to upload photos soon...
Friday, August 6, 2010
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