i am listening

5 stage E ticket ride

well kids, it looks like i really will be going back to chico next semester.  i had so much faith in the possibility of moving away for good that i threw away everything i didnt need/could buy again/wasnt that cool anyway and made every item i own fit into the back of my pickup (it still ended up dribbling into the cab, but what's a girl to do?)

i have officially attempted every possible escape from the Vanilla city and find myself still standing at the same amount of brick wall that i first began clawing at.  the pile of dust soiling my shoes may not seem like worthy fruit for such efforts, ah, but in it the resignation lies.  when one has done all that can be done, there is merely left the arranging of one's hair and the settling down of nerves to await what cannot be held back from arriving.  maybe it would even be called "rest."

in Him it surely is.  

thats why we have our coffee every morning, our wine at night: to herald in regal glory the coy faithfulness of a world spinning out of our control, carrying us on it's back, rising and falling heedless to our wishes.  rising and falling careful towards His.   

please pass the sugar,

my how nice the scenery is.

He must be taking us somewhere fine.

denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance:

check.

now that the 5 stages are done, lets move on, shalst we.

. . .

"what will sustain us through the winter?

where did last year's lessons go?

walk me out into the rain and snow

i dream a highway back to you."

T-minus

this here is a horrible picture of my color theory final.  (it looks better in real life, i promise...click on it to make it bigger).  She was originally an opera singer...but i made her face a hymnal page :).  i dont know what that makes her now...

chico is going to last about 36 hours and then i'm free.  kinda free.  "kinda free" is better than NOT free, right?  

ooooo, lawd.

the twenty something most random things i want for christamas

*a black light booklight...right?  with strobe option.  clubbin'

*a lifetime supply of canned fish and lima beans

*the opposite of serious

*a concertina

*a bird in the hand

*a friend who plays the cello

*people skills

*the live near a HUGE asian market

*to find that pair of von dutch aviators that i lost awhile ago.  dang, those things were sic.

*a horsey

*a kitty

*to love my neighbor

*a fixed exhaust manifold

*kale

*an ocean breeze.  here.  in chico.

*health insurance

*to keep it real

*a time machine and/or a flight to britain

*to become a famous artist after i die

*for everything to taste like coffee and/or chocoloate and/ or curry and/or plum skin

*abject fearlessness

really real

i have been thinking about sincerity lately.

trying to hold them next to each other and see how similar now and ago really are.

what if i would have been honest with myself

sooner.

what if my love could be sincere, with that honesty a child gains by being born 

and forgets about 

each day following day 

that teaches him fear and greed and practicality.

like when i was small 

asleep in my parents bed

because of the spider or the dream in my room.

let love be without hypocrisy

like a Man weeping

calling Himself a hen

longing to gather His chicks

calling Himself a Dad

because of the spider or the dream in my room.

forlorn foundling rescued by compassion

thats what that little part says above the picture that i taped to the front of my bible this morning :)  its a picture of a lamb in a burlap bag attached to a saddled horse.

i've decided i will tape more things into my bible from now on.

i also taped a picture of the sea of galilee that i found in a 1950's national geographic to the back inside flap of this my Holy Book.  according to the caption, "Galilean fishermen still set their nets in circles around lights to enclose fish drawn to the glow,"  and it shows these boats with large bulb lights hanging off the bow of the boats over the sea.  

i found that "lights" part extremely profound.  

they fish at night.  

they fish with lights.

the fish seem to know the difference

and come easily to the glow.

.......

spent thanksgiving with my sweet tehachapi friends (if you dont know where tehachapi is, ask your neighbor).  i still dont want to live in chico...but what else is new.  after this i'm swearing off northern california forever and if you are my friend you will hold me to it.  if any of you want to move somewhere and take me along with you, i think you'll be surprised at how little i object.

maybe i'll get over it in time to graduate (graduate...ah, the word does knell its sweetness to my soul.)

......

there is a persimmon tree by the mansion down the street.  the persimmon is a fruit that hangs naked on the tree with no leaves around it so that everyone can see.  

it is no time for greenery, but it is still time for fruit.  

fruit is the business of a tree, leaves are its passing pleasures that flutter and fall with a mind all their own.

but the fruit is more faithful.

of more worth.

dear persimmon tree,

you are better off in your beauty 

of rest

despite the cold.

my favorite one yet

exist in theory

so this is a drawing i did today from a picture taken during the depression

...and

here's me with a red wig on.

the amazing thing is that the wig is the same color of chemical red that my jacket is.  i mean, when does THAT ever happen?

like Tiffany's

"if i could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's,

then i'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name."

-Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

USPS

have you ever noticed how the ladies who work at the post office are really into guessing what you might be sending, and they push and shake your poor unsuspecting parcel like a christmas present...

which would be cute, 

except its not addressed to them, 

and for a second you feel like they're that teacher in grade school that always wanted to catch you doing something wrong.  like sending a bomb or anthrax or a fire cracker in the mail.

and its even less cute while they're molesting your package that they peer at you through their caked on eyeliner and say "anything liquid, hazardous or fragile?"  

"well, if anything was fragile, your bony, probing, violating fingers would already have found me out by now," i want to say.

instead you play an old playground initiation game with them.  see who looks away first.

"its a painting," i say, as if its her business, with a little of that "what are you going to do about it" tone in my voice...but steady gaze.  you HAVE to keep a steady gaze or you lose.  you're instantly a terrorist or a miscreant or both.

and its all over when they put their little red stamp on it that probably says, "please bend and mutilate...i dont like the look of the one sending it...she's trouble."

nishiki bikes and coffee presses

so i was laying in bed last night trying to figure out if i would have enough gas money to go down to tehachapi (6 hours away) for thanksgiving week and hang out with my friend mo and her huge, lovely family.  as you probably know, laying in bed thinking about money does not promote sleep, nor peace.

so i prayed and asked God to provide for exactly what he wanted and that i wasnt going to worry about the rest.

so, like, 5 minutes later it occurred to me that i might be able to sell my half functioning 70's road bike that was sitting in the garage that i got for free a year ago from one of my buddies.  i got up and posted an ad on craigslist in the middle of the night and asked God to sell the bike for me.  i woke up this morning with 4 emails from people who wanted to buy it, the first email i got being from one of the guys that i know from the calvary chapel here.  he responded to the ad 5 minutes after i posted it and ended up buying the bike for 40 dollars.  i think it was a fair price for a half functioning bike, and plus i can add the 40 to the 25 i have saved for my gas fund...

God is so, so lovely and faithful.

i know 3 people in this town and happened to sell my bike to one of them in record time.

the bad news is that i broke my big 2 person coffee press this morning that i got for real cheap at ross a couple years ago and spilled coffee sludge everywhere.  so now i have a stained carpet and a 1 cup coffee press that i bought at target shortly after the incident.  sigh.  you just cant get ahead sometimes (i didnt use my bike money for the coffee press, i'll have you know :)

trees in the mist painting

another one for class:

(click on it to make it bigger)

the simpson angel

these are the four right angles of a grave marker angel named simpson.  the drawings are shown in the order i did them (my fav is the 3rd).

she is a life size marble statue at chico cemetery.  i was riding my bike through the cemetery last week and when i saw her i just stared at her for a few minutes in awe, and decided to come back later to sketch her.  these pics are from drawing her this morning and i plan to do more of her.

(her hand was broken off, thats why it looks funny.)

no second causes

i dont know what happened...maybe some one has been praying for me...but the cloud over my head is gently, slowly lifting.

its more than one thing that has positively altered my perspective on being here, but the climax realization came quietly from the pages of "The Horse and His Boy."

there's a part where the "Boy" of the title, Shasta, is walking along on a trail alone because he couldnt make his non-talking horse do what he wanted (he wasnt used to the whole "reigns" business because talking horses from narnia naturally dont need brute force).  he is separated in the thick fog from the group he is riding with and starts to think about the misfortunes and misplacements of his life...

"i do think," said Shasta, "that i must be the most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world.  everything goes right for everyone except me."  ...and being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks.

then Aslan appears in the mist and starts walking next to him and talking to him, but shasta only knows him as a Voice at first-

"I do not call you unfortunate," said the Large Voice.

"Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?" said shasta

"there was only one lion," said the Voice..."I was the lion."

"I was the lion who forced you to join with aravis.  I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead.  i was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept..."

and he goes on.  

aslan's point was that all the instances that seemed like bad luck or misplacement or survival were just Him.  there is a point in the story when aslan (though shasta didnt know it was aslan) attacks his friend aravis but doesnt harm her too badly, only scratches up her back.  he brings this up to aslan and says,

"then it was you who wounded aravis"

"it was i."

"but what for?"

"child," said the Voice, "i am telling you your story, not hers.  i tell no one any story but his own."

i know all of this seems choppy, but you cant imagine how perfect it was for me to read that when i did.

because i WANT to believe that EVERYTHING that has and will happen to me is His doing, whether it feels good or not (and intellectually i ascribe to that) ...but sometimes its so hard to see things like that, especially when they sting the most.  

especially when they cost the most.  

especially when all around you is fog and you're separated from the group.

especially when the only pattern in your life that you can see is the one that feeds that displaced sense you get when you look around you.

i love that the lion gives shasta no sympathy: only truth.

and the truth is he's not so bad off as he thinks, and that he's not as alone as he thinks...in fact, its the times when he was most afraid that the lion himself was the one working and pushing him to where he needed to be.

may the Lord give us vagabonds mercy for our oft poor perspective.

else

i have known 

these days

just with different faces and 

that worn out look on mine

(which always was the dead give away)

that i didnt know what was happening.

and i couldnt tell if it was ok

not to know

or hope

or laugh

without thinking of something else

being somewhere else

faith must be the permission

not to know 

or hope

or laugh

without some type of 

(how do you call it)

sense of misplacement

displacement

i just hope 

these days 

grow feathers

i just hope 

these days 

learn to sing

(or dance...i cant tell which is more lithe)

i just hope

these days.

morning projects

had a nice morning doing these, sitting on the floor with the door open.

click on them to make them bigger i think.

sorry, the quality is kinda crappy.

the one at the top, the little boy has a hymn page for a face...it looks weird in the picture, thought i'd explain :)

class drawings

the pot is just a still life we did in class a while ago

we are mainly drawing live people now since this is an intro to figure drawing class.

i really like the one of the guy- very pensive...

and refreshingly pg-13

the splice

on the way back up to chico from slo i realized something 

i was talking to jonathan dow, answering one of his typical english major questions thus named for their "how" and "why" nature (its ok if he asks those questions though, because jonathan dow is a good listener).

i was talking about art...

telling him how sometimes the desire to DO art pounces on me like a tiger and i feel compelled so much to "create," but often dont really know what to do with my impulse. 

jacob wrestling with the angel...asking for a blessing and not really knowing why...continuing to fight and not really knowing why.

 its funny to have the desire to create while having absolutely no idea how one should go about creating.  "not being inspired," is what artsy people say often...

i then said something about how art for me (for you, it could be anything, no?) is how i experience God sometimes.  through the whole process i feel him near in such a special way, that once i get done with a project or idea, i almost dont care about the finished product because the quality time was what i really needed/enjoyed/wanted in the first place

but as i talked it out (jonathan dow patiently being a good listener all the while), those two aforesaid thoughts spliced themselves together.

"maybe," i said, "those times when i just want to create but i dont know why or how...

maybe i'm just missing God."

and i think that's really what happens..."art" is my code word for "God, can we hang out."  i knew that about myself and God, but i hadnt put it together about those times when i sit there on my couch, mysteriously drawn to my pencils and drawing board across the room- staring at them like an imbecile while God has strung red christmas lights and orange construction detour signs pointing towards them...i sit there wondering what has come over me, while the Lord and my heart are trying to contact each other through the noise proof glass of my slow mind between them...

the times when i DONT act on that impulse are times when i dont think i have anything to give- no idea for a finished product...but thats not what its ever been about.

i realized i live my life under that fear.  what if i spend all this time on something and i dont like what i end up with?  

"it never mattered to you before," 

He would say, 

"not if it was right."

my God isnt in there

this is my project for color theory class this week.

yep, its a box.

the point of the picture is that i painted it w/o the use of black out of the tube.

the picture is lame b/c all i have is photo booth on my computer, so thats where that blue spot comes from at the top.  it looks better in real life, but whatever.

i like this painting b/c i think it has potential...like i could write something on it to make it really funny, b/c after all, this is a painting of a cardboard box.

hello, my name is cheddar

one of my roomates is, like, half dating this guy named colby (apparently its really popular in chico to half date someone...weird.)

i care very little for my roomates' love lives, except for this gentleman's name.

when i met him, i wondered, "why would you name your kid after a cheese..."

but then i thought of the cheese "gruyere..."

they may be on to something.

it would take a lot of guts to name your kid, "gruyere."  it would only be awkward if he went to switzerland, it would be like being named, "mozzarella" here or something...hopefully by the time i have kids i'll have the kinks worked out :)  

how i gave my entire drawing class mosquito bites

so my drawing class is being taught by a grad student...a photography grad student who "hasnt drawn in 6 years," apparently.

shes a real nice lady...i feel bad for her because she really doesnt have a choice and its not her fault that she's into photography and not drawing (poor soul), but i have to say its a less than desirable situation.  drawing and photography share about 2 1/2 things in common- other than it is very different in my opinion.

so in the spirit of just wanting to make the class better for everyone, i asked her last week if we could go outside and draw.  chico state is lovely- all brick and trees and lawn, and our class is at 5 when the light is best.  she agreed and made everyone go outside for the class period today...

i was in heaven.

but i forgot about the creek next to the school that spawns mosquitos and gnats.

i forgot so much that i wore a tank top to class (ya, its still 90 here).

i think everyone sustained at least one mosquito bite...

i bless anonymity for saving me from a good lynching.

(ps- the art at the top is from another project for that class- a still life.  thats me behind it holding it up to give you an idea of its size.  i tied 3 coffee cups to yellow fabric and hung it over my door.)

i'm a little teapot

been doing some fun stuff for art classes lately- this ones for a sketch journal that i have to keep for my drawing classes.  its not supposed to be precise and exact- just an idea scrawled into the book.

i like being an art major because it forces me to do art.  i'm ashamed at how little art i do when i'm NOT forced or commissioned.  

that ol rascal 'discipline' ...a hard and merciful task master.

"a welcomed crisis on what would be a regular, boring day."

discoveries of the lovely sort

the bible study tuesday night was really nice.  there was only three of us, but four counting the Lord, which was our favorite part.  the girls were really sweet and i anticipate hanging out with them again.

also-

my previous goal when i came to chico state was to get a BFA degree.  i have realized only lately that this idea is insane- it would mean at least 2 full years more of school, not including the semester i'm already in due to the volume of units.  it would also require a portfolio review which gives me the violent heeby jeebies.

BUT

if i go for a BA degree in studio art (with the electronic art emphasis) i will graduate in a very doable year and a half from now (so 2 years total).  the thing that seals the deal is that there is no gnarly portfolio review...

i feel this to be the educational equivalent of my salvation.  in fact, i'm pretty sure the last time i felt this relieved was when God himself pulled my damned and dying soul from the pit.  the grimy flames of university hell have faded in the distance, granting me the grace of graduation when i'm like 26 and not 27 or more (sigh...i am getting old).

and also, i will be down in slo the second week in october for the half marathon.

now that's a good sort of discoveries, dont you agree?:)

bell-ble study.

i bought a bell for my bike today-- i'm so excited.

a bike without a bell is like a car without a decent way to play your own music (you know who you are, jonathan dow)

but thats actually not what i wanted to write about.

i was a good girl and i went to worship generation tonite which is calvary's sunday night service.  i'm gonna try going to a bible study.

it started out super awkward as i sat there by myself waiting for the service to start.  i used to sit by myself at shoreline all the time and it never bothered me...but i was so paranoid tonite i started texting one of my friends just to do something with my hands.  5 text messages later the service finally started.

it got better as the night went on because a bunch of people got up and shared about their bible studies that they are starting.  thats always how it is: discomfort dissolved away by hearing peoples hearts and visions.  i realized a few years ago that i was more apt to like someone (as opposed to misjudging them) if i sat down and made eye contact and had a meaningful  conversation with them...funny how that is.

so tomorrow i will put my bell on my bike and on tuesday i will go to a bible study :)

a night in the life of chico, augmented by a thrift store blanket

my favorite part is this blanket.

there's a point at night, at probably 3 or 4 in the morning where the temperature here drops to something normal like 65 and for a few blissful hours i get to sleep with a blanket over me and not a sheet.  

sleeping with a sheet over you is a psychosomatic joke- like decaf coffee...merely there just because we know that people who sleep without blankets or coverings are...well,  homeless or dead.  like nebuchadnezzer sleeping in the open air because he went crazy.  

so to ward off the stigma i resort to the sheet.  

(i need all the help i can get sometimes to remind myself i'm not crazy...)

this blanket is my sole recompense for having to wake up at 3 or 4 every morning due to the fact that my useless sheet has become even more useless, except now rather than making me a few degrees too warm, it has taken to freezing me into groggy awareness (that it may be reunited with its fellow bedding implement, of course).

i could tell you a few other funny stories about this town...like how the safeway has a hand written sign posted that no dogs, cleats or barefeet are allowed in the store.  i mean, that pretty much sums up the town i think.

or how there is always this pervading sense that at some point in my walking to and from school and downtown that someone is going to end my life by crashing into me with a purple $500 beach cruiser bike.

or how i can simultaneously miss my home (not to mention sincere people and meaningful conversations) so much and yet possess such a peace here that i dont understand.

no one told me chico was 3 miles from the sun.

so it was 108 here yesterday...

i washed my clothes and hung them out to dry outside.  at night.  and i woke up and they were dried.  they dried during the night.  do you have any idea how gnarly that is?

just thought i'd let you know that in case you were tempted to complain about the weather wherever you are

i have decided to never disdain the cold again.  ever.

in fact, my daydreams these days place me somewhere on the same latitude as humboldt or england....preferably the latter.

when one steps into the sun here, it feels like he takes his mighty fist of fitful rays and just bashes at your face until you step into the shade where he cant see you

i peer around the corners suspiciously like a miscreant child avoiding the police

it gives new meaning to those verses that talk about how God shaded the children of israel in the desert with a cloud

can you hear the singing

i was watching a movie on my computer tonite and accidentally sent my cursor over to the far bottom left corner of the screen, which makes the widgets pop up. :)

no, widgets were not the inspiration for a dark comedy horror movie made the year i was born-

you're thinking of "gremlins"

(the car version of a gremlin is pictured at right)

or that perhaps a widgets is an insect or pest.

no, see those are weevils (also known as "snout beetles").  

if you dont know what a widget is, ask your neighbor.

suffice it to say that one of my widgets looks like a sticky note and i can type little reminders on it.

my widget says "the meek shall inherit the earth."

the meek are the ones you want to be in God's economy.

they are the ones the world often label as pathetic, because there is something not so self asserting about them.

they are the ones who see God as He is- strong.

strong on their behalf, to be more precise.

and tonite as you go to sleep, dear ones, i hope you can hear them...

because if they are to inherit the earth, there's nothing else to do but rest

you'll know them by how they sing in their sleep

chico: land of extremes

made it into chico today.

its about 8 million degrees here right now, at about 6 at night.

i pulled all the stuff out of the back of the truck, threw it in my room and took off for down town because i have decided to take up hunting:

A/C hunting.

i am in peets right now and its like 60 degrees, so go figure...i have a large scarf around my shoulders.

its so funny how peets always plays this stuffy music.  "its always tea time in peets," as my friend mo once said.

before i got to my house when i got into town though, i swung by the trader joe's here.  apparently they are hiring a sign artist which i used to do for the store in A.G. a few years ago.  last time i worked for traders i was making like 11 dollars an hour to sit and doodle all day.  the guy seemed really stoked knowing that i had already worked for traders and he gave me an application and told me to come back tomorrow.  it would be really crazy if i got this job...almost eerie...who gets a job at trader joes drawing signs for them the week they arrive in town...

ones drowning

in His good graces,

thats who. :)

back to basics

i totally have little drummer boy stuck in my head right now.

according to my itunes i have 1387 songs on my computer.

this translates to 3.8 days of music.

and the best thing my head could come up with is little drummer boy-

(the version with sleigh bells in it keeping time)

and i dont even own that song.

and i dont even know the words.

"listen to what i say...da da da da da...

ringing in the sky little lamb

listen to what i say...hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm

hmm."

new and tempramental painting

this is my newest wall mural-

its for a little boy named wyatt who's 7 years old and has bright red hair and lovely freckles.  he shares his room with his 5 year old brother jayden who is blond and smiles like a surfer already. their room is a tangle of cowboy boots and guns and birds nests they found in the yard and a fish tank full of crickets that they got from the same place.  

i sat on the couch for 20 minutes with wyatt discussing with him in very serious ardor what he wanted on his wall.  you cant pull a fast one on this little guy, let me tell you.  "a peregrine falcon chasing his prey" (which are pigeons, he informed...which is true.  i researched it...who says homeschool doesnt work).  those were his exact words.

so anyway, its not the best thing i've ever done and i confess a fair level of frustration with this picture, mainly because i dont paint falcons all the time and i desperately wanted to do a good job for wyatt...how do you produce art for a 7 year old?  you'll notice the tail feathers are pretty non-believable...ah, well.  the falcon itself is about 4...maybe a little more....feet high to give you an idea.  the room i painted it in is on the top floor of the house, which includes a lovely physics lesson with it: heat rises.  so basically this peregrine was born into an arid desert of hot tehachapi air and a frustrated painter who couldnt mix any colors on the wall because they would dry the SECOND they hit the wall.  

i did learn two cool things from this piece though.  

1) i need to START with prayer and surrender and not END with it out of desperation...will someone please tell me why i forget that all the goodness or ability i "have" is just Him and His grace?  

2) the way peregrine falcons catch their prey in mid air like they do is they soar up really high and then dive at close to 200 mph at their prey and snatch them.  the wee birds never know what hit 'em.  i think God is amazing.  a true artist, if i may make such an understatement.

in the rest of the room

the dining room of this house that i am staying at is literally a "dining room": an empty room, save for a table and chairs and some candlesticks.  it is about the size of a large bathroom and since there is no carpet in it, the acoustics in it are lovely.  

the thing about playing music in an echoey room is that it makes you sound good because you can hear so well, and thus helps you enjoy your music a little more- it completely fills the room because the sound bounces off every surface

i've been playing my guitar in there the last few nights, and tonite a wonderful thought filled my mind.

i imagined myself sitting in a room like that, except (forgive me for the cliche) it was in God's heart- and He could hear the music and the singing because it was the only thing there...table...chair...candlesticks maybe, and singing.  

i thought of that verse in revelation when He silenced heaven to listen

because that was the only thing He wanted in His heart

the only thing He HAD in His heart

He wanted the sound to meet every surface

and ring in His ears.

i think thats really how things are with Him.  i think when we get to heaven we will kick ourselves for not realizing just how empty, save for our voices,

that room really is.

we will kick ourselves for not singing louder

for not enjoying it

for not believing what He was listening to us say.

"if i was a meter maid" and "armenian cucumbers" in B flat

this picture is of an armenian cucumber i picked today.  the only problem with these things is how to fit them in the fridge

and here is i poem i wrote this morning after a conversation i had with my friend jen about meter maids (she knows a male meter maid...which makes me laugh out loud.)  in case you're wondering about the spare time i have on my hands, here's an idea of it (sheesh...)

if i was a meter maid

and too long in your spot you stayed

out would come my ticket pad

to help remind not to be bad

and as you came a screaming out

from the place you were about

i would smile a funny grin

and dance around your long-stayed sin

and wear a clown wig as my hair

and a red round nose, but not a pair

of huge red rubber clowning shoes

that would slow me down as i ran from you

and i would drive a little car

that i peddled near and far

with flashing lights and stripe-ed doors

to make me look of vast import

and maybe you would get to laughing

at my humorous attractings

and tire as you chased my car

and paid your ticket after all.

cowboy shirts and why the british are cool

i am in tehachapi housesitting and working on a small organic farm these days

(if you dont know where tehachapi is, ask your neighbor)

today i picked raspberries and orange cherry tomatoes for, like, 4 hours.  it was pretty amazing- especially because i was wearing a huge sun hat and a man's long sleeve cowboy shirt (tied at the waist all 80's) and there were bees and silence singing into my thoughts

i decided the taste of a sun warmed raspberry proves there is a God

(among other things)

anyway, i also worked for this farm at their farmers market booth.

next to us was this guy from england and his wife who make and sell goat cheese.  

imagine a little tent booth at farmers and space for one more booth beside it. 

all of a sudden a huge dodge truck starts to parallel park itself between the back of our booth and the back of the open space beside us.

the truck came an inch from our table

i squealed

and out of the truck a man got out

i congratulated him and he replied in his british accent

"its because of where i learned!"

in britain.  of course.  those people are magicians with cars and tight spaces.

thats why british people are cool

(among other things)

ps.  here is the website for the place i am working at: www.tangleweedfarm.com

psalm 84

i know why 84 was Your choice this morning

because you know i'm leaving

again

in two days.

because you need to remind me that a real pilgrimage

is not one my body feels

that things are a lot easier when the whole heart is set on them

and that you cant "GO"

with only half 

your heart

you cant.

and You, of all

would know.

the perfect breakfast:

2 oreos to dip in ones coffee

a bowl of plain old fashioned style oatmeal

strong coffee with milk

and reggae.

all before 9.

:)

LA LA LA LA...

well, my darlings,

i have found someone to rent my room with 2 days to spare :)

my jesus is so good to me....

seriously.

in other news, we have successfully moved all my stuff up to chico this past weekend.  it took two pickup trucks (plus the load i took up before for orientation) and 2 of my good friends who were determined to be my road buddies, and one sweet family who financed the entire thing by God's good grace...sheesh.  there's nothing any one can say at this point to convince me that God isnt in this thing.

we got lost in sacramento because they had a detour on the 5 that was LAME and it wasnt my fault (insert pouting lip here).

and when we pulled over at a gas station to ask directions, i threw a total conniption fit (or "hissy fit" as my southern relatives would say) because it was 90 degrees and we had been driving for 6 hours and i thought we'd never get back to the 5...that we would have to unload all my stuff and make a home on the sidewalk for me because we were never going to get there....

the best part is my friend mo laughed in my face.  

it takes a true friend to laugh in your face when you're in hysterics.  those are my favorite friends...the ones who dont take you as seriously as you take yourself.  

God totally does this for us too (just one more reason i adore Him).  not the laugh in your face part, but he sits there while we are all frantic and says, "now, when you can think straight enough to realize that what you are saying and feeling is absurd, i'll still be here and i wont listen to how you doubt me and accuse me and press your pride up against my glory...LA LA LA LA LA I CANT HEAR YOU!!  LA LA LA...."

"O...you're done then?  good.  i missed you.

now lets get back in the truck and i'll make just as if this never happened."

*sniff* 

yes Lord

i missed you too.

things we dont need anymore

love doesnt need a response, but is a response

a response that carries on anyway

for the other's sake

for its own sake

(dare i believe it?)

because it knows it cannot fail

because it knows it is the greatest thing

and love is what is left

when the child has put away its things

strength is vain.

so i'm dealing with trying to find someone to rent my room before i leave...so that means i need someone to start paying rent for me in 5 days.  which would be a miracle.

which is exactly why this verse, which i dont remember ever having noticed, hit me hard this morning

"no king is saved by the multitude of an army;

a mighty man is not delivered by great strength.

a horse is a vain hope for safety;

neither shall it deliver any by its great strength."   -Psalm 33. 16, 17

this verse presents a really wild thought: more "strength" or "ability" or the "if i can just get this or be more like this or i wish i was stronger in this way" mentality WONT help you.

it wont.

a mighty man is not delivered by great strength.

and anything you can add to that man like a horse, etc, will be of no use to him.

a couple verses down our salvation comes:

"...the eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him,

on those who hope in His mercy,

to deliver their soul from death...

our soul waits on the Lord

HE is our help and shield.

For our heart shall rejoice in Him,

because we have trusted in His holy name."

birthday

today, my dear friends, is  my birthday. :D

i'm not the type of person that wakes up happy and raring to go every morning, but for some reason i wake up on my birthdays feeling like a million bucks.

and i think all these years (24 of them...shhhh...dont tell anyone...) God has been trying to tell me something.

this morning i have no problem rolling my burdens from my back to His- no problem at all trusting that this day will be a good one- no problem at all feeling free

i just want to celebrate life and breath and being God's.  simple.

but that's the key word there- celebrate.  to SHOW enjoyment and cause others to feel the same enjoyment around you

and it hit me as i was walking to linneas just now that if his mercy's are new each morning and so are we as new creations...

then why cant i wake up more often content in His love and walking in His graces which are so near i can almost touch them, right this second.

our birthday is everyday to God, because He is making sure of it.  a day of birth: of newness.  innocence.  joy.  dependence on Him.  and us being stoked and at rest because of Him.

the cool part about a real birthday though, is that the people around you do funny things like buy your breakfast and call you just because....

its gonna be a good day :)

honey maid...what do maids have to do with crackers?

ok.

so i totally had graham crackers for dinner tonite.  the question is: cas, what is a hippy like you doing in possession of a box of trash-ball graham crackers.  white flour...."graham flour," whatever that is, is an abomination.

the answer?

to eat them for dinner, of course.  

i am working an overnite shift and the broccoli i brought from my garden to eat for dinner is so bug infested that no amount of water or cooking would make me able to eat it (long live organic gardening).

if you were me, you would be thankful for a trashy box of graham crackers too.

:)

why will the last be first?

i cant say i have an answer to this question, but i was laying in bed thinking about it...after desperately scrawling it out on the white board downstairs...after realizing how little i have kept that concept in mind lately.  

the concept, "what are you fighting for?  you've won.  in Him you have won.  you have nothing of your own to defend."

why will the last be first?

to prove His victory.

to prove in the greatest irony of all time that this war for existence is won by those who have nothing else to fight for.

to prove the meek right as they talk in their God given sleep...that one day they will inherit the earth

to prove that "in returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength' -isaiah 30

it has to be like that.

the last MUST be first.

all the ones insisting they are first know it.  they know how shoddy their footing is.  

and we can see it in each others eyes

as He bends to wash our feet

our feet

hell and high water

i was thinking about my parents on my run the other day (i am training for a half marathon...eep)

both were runners before they met- perhaps the only thing they ever had in common

dad did cross country and mom did track.  i can still remember seeing my dad run on the beach when i was a kid...he kinda looked like an ostrich because of his long legs, but thats beside the point (its kinda funny though :)  

but their experiences were different as runners.  dad ran because he could.  because he was strong.  because it was one more way to repress stress and guilt...his favorite addictions.

but mum ran...i dont know why she ran.  i dont know because she said it hurt her.  there was smog in riverside even back then and she had asthma.  she would run five miles with her lungs burning the whole way and her body cramping, but she would do it anyway.

that crazy woman would run anyway.

and she carried on like that for years until kids and husband came.  and when they came, running took the form of responsibility and surviving.  i watched her survive the gnarliest things

and that crazy woman kept going anyway

not because of her strength but inspite of it  

it was that utter defiance that i was thinking of on my run

is it insanity or principle?

probably both

she probably never thought twice about it.  you run because you need to finish.  there is no other option.

i wish i had half the fight in me that she does

"for all they did cast in of their abundance, but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living." mark 12:44

hannah said it for all of us in 1 sam 2:

"i smile at my enemies

because i rejoice in Your salvation."

california and monterey

do you ever wish

you could talk to the guy

in the volkswagon bus

behind you?

for you rob

I wrote this poem for my brother...its definitely sad.  

there was never anyone i was so thankful for, and yet showed it to so little, looking back. maybe the point of poems like this is to learn that reality without having to lose those ones who you think must know your love...who you think will always be there. 

After

when i think of you

i always hope that

you werent alone

out there

that He held your head

on His lap

and stroked your face

because you were the most beautiful thing

out there

in that ocean

so far

from us

i hope it wasnt lonely for you

just before he kept you

and sent your body back to shore

for us

and i wish i missed you

with a pure love's indolence

towards second thoughts

you were pure like that

not me

you know, i never cried

before you left

not like that.

no breath

managing to convulse my soul

in great heaves which wrung it dry

till tears were no more

like you 

to us

i didnt go to the beach that morning

i didnt want to see

your amazing eyes

open to the cold

too far gone

remember that time

you dreamed that i was the one who died

and you cried right in front of me

and said you were sorry

and i stared at you

because i didnt know what it all meant

i wonder if you could forgive me

for not knowing how to love you

except with the noose

in my throat

clenching its fist

with nothing to pound 

but out

standing six feet about you

and not being able

to touch your face

so how was your day

you know those times

when your toaster catches on fire

because you tipped it over

while trying to see if it was done

and you blow it out but it keeps

relighting

because you cant think straight enough

to raise the lever

thus removing the heat source

because your toaster has never

caught on fire before?

for a songbird

i am posting this little bloggy site in honor of my friend robin.  she is cool enough to want to know what will become of me as i leave my beloved san luis, and i can only oblige her wishes in humble gratitude.

hence the name, "le cas de la valise."  apparently it means "the case of the suitcase" in french, which, if i'm not mistaken, is the precise file name of my life account up in heaven.  en ce cas ("in that case..."), i shall embrace my fate as a pilgrim, tethering myself loosely to this one stationary website...like a kite, i guess.  tethers are great because they help you remember where you're from, and that the wind will not always carry on so forcefully...they are a hope that someday you will be reeled back in.

and so, my dear robin, i dedicate this first "blog" to you: i only hope to write worthy of your attention :)