Yeah I come from California- God is green . . . eyes are blue.

Whenever I experience beauty, I always have a sudden urge to write. To pick up a pen, pencil, or open up a Word document and try to capture that beauty. To attempt at finding the perfect words and phrases that will describe feelings, smells, sights, tastes, and sounds of beauty. Tonight I went on a run, which has become customary of my evenings here in San Francisco. It's more of an obligation that comes with my steps towards bettering myself: mind, body, and spirit aligned. But tonight it was a pleasure, a very rare occurrence, so I tried to relish it and I will try to describe here what I saw, smelled, heard, and felt:

I saw the sky. It was dusk, my favorite time of day, when the clouds turn pink and the setting sun turns the whole city golden. I ran up the Harry stairs (all 230 of them) and then around the entirety of the top of the ridge, glimpsing the glinting and glowing city every few seconds as it bobbed in and out between the houses. When I reached Billy Goat Park, I experienced the same sense of weightlessness that keeps me coming back there--I felt on the top of the world and that I could hold the entire city before me and the Bay beyond in my grasp. I would like to go to this spot at any time of day and I am sure that it each hour has its own character. I saw the fog as it advanced over the top of Twin Peaks, threatening to take over the city with its blanket of mist. It was like a scene in a movie, when the storm advances, foreshadowing the coming of evil. When I came over the top of Diamond Blvd, the sun had disappeared over the top of the hill, leaving only a glowing strip of light that speckled through the mist of the fog, turning its underside into light.

I smelled the pungent mix of clean air, hyacinth, Indian food, marijuana, licorice, and laundry (my favorite smell)

I heard the happy and uplifting music in my ear buds--I was listening to a mix that I made for a beach trip I took with Lindsay two summers ago. It reminded me of the carefree, blissful time with a dear, dear friend--a combination of the Goo Goo Dolls, bluegrass, the Dandy Warhols, oldies, the Indigo Girls, "A Dios de Pido," G. Love, and Gary Jules, who I have named this post after.

I felt exhilaration in my muscles, a burning feeling that kept me going and my legs moving. I felt that gasping, straining pain in my chest but somehow I wanted to keep running, to conquer stair cases and hills. I felt like my legs could take me anywhere. The beautiful thing is, they can!

"Ecstasy is all you need,
Living in the big machine,
Now..."
-the Goo Goo Dolls

how we get around

A few weeks ago when I rode the BART for an hour, my Ipod died and I didn’t bring my book, which forced me to sit with myself and enjoy the ride. No distractions. So I got my notebook out and began to write.

…Not only do I have a weird fascination with men in kilts, Renaissance choral music, and hidden urban staircases, but I love exploring cities and mastering public transportation systems. There is a strange sense of achievement that I get by confidently hopping on a vehicle with up to hundreds of people I don’t know, sitting with them for however long, and then getting off again at a totally new place that I want to go. It helps me grasp my geographical bearings and makes me feel like a native. Sometimes I feel like my life’s a movie riding the BART. Passengers are always so much more fast-paced, especially in the morning when we all rush toward the station in hoards of business suits, Starbucks coffee, and high heels. Time speeds up when we all walk quickly down the escalator, dodging other commuters to get on the waiting subway. We settle amidst hundreds of other commuters as the door beeps and then ruthlessly closes. Then the subway moves away at rapid speeds as my Guster or bluegrass music hums in my ears. No one talks to each other and when you take your earbuds out you are surprised to hear silence. Sometimes, though, the sound of wheels grinding on the rail is so loud that I can hardly hear my music anymore, the train playing its sweet but abrasive metal symphony to drown out any other music. When you get off the BART, there’s an unspoken rule to wait your turn in line to get on the escalator. Sometimes I can’t help but laugh as I become part of the faceless throng, a phenomenon that is commonplace and exciting but also disturbingly typical of our fast-paced, almost impersonal 21^st century American society.

I also love riding the bus. If I sit and read a book, I can get some reading done and get to where I need to go. If I plug in my ipod, I can sit back and just observe. Last week, I saw men playing chess on makeshift tables by the Powell BART station. They all looked different, the men and the chess boards. There was also a man following the bus in the bike lane. He rode the length of the bus line, keeping up with the bus. Way to go! And way to show that with a little leg work, you can get somewhere just as fast if not faster than a vehicle. It really is possible to take ourselves off the grid even if it’s just for a half-hour bike ride.

If I unplug from everything—Ipod, book, my own thoughts, and just let all the sights, smells, and sounds around me infiltrate my consciousness, I can really begin to know and enjoy a city—with all its quirks, idiosyncrasies, and flavors. I always hear a diversity of languages—from Chinese to French to Spanish to Russian, to Italian, to another unrecognizable tourist language. I always wish that I could understand their words fluently so that I could take part in their conversations, even if it’s just to listen in. But alas, they can converse without anyone eavesdropping. I can hear profanity uttered from the back-bus dwellers. I can hear people’s conversations about their day and their workplace, getting just a glimpse into their lives and their spheres of being.

Whenever I’m on the bus, BART, MUNI, or in any other public area, I cannot help but think where the strangers around me are coming from and where they are going. Where do they work? Where do they live? Do they have a family? Who are their friends? What do they enjoy doing? What is their favorite food? What are they thinking about underneath their Ipod earbuds? What kind of a person are they? What kind of conversation would we have? We are all living our lives separate from each other (or so we think) and for even just a minute or for a whole bus ride, we have infiltrated each other’s spheres. The thing that is so bizarre to think about is that with one “Hello, how are you?” to this stranger like I said to the elderly man on the LA Metrolink, we can break into this sphere. We can be part of each other’s life story for a small amount of time and maybe we will get the chance to know where each other is going. Our spheres may already touch somewhere, who knows? My hope is that six degrees of separation is not as complex as we think.

la famille, la maison

the words "family" and "home" are interesting to me, two words in the English language that are both interconnected and constantly changing. as a twenty-something young woman, my concept of family and home has become extremely complicated

first of all, living in three cities during one year is complicated. at the youth to youth conference in LA, introducing myself was hard. do i tell people where i am currently living (san francisco, with my aunt and uncle), where i go to school and where i will be officially living in three weeks (seattle, jefferson st.), or where i am from and from where i pull my identity (portland)?

what it all comes down to is finding a compromise...considering a combination of these three cities to be my home

i associate my childhood, my high school years, my beautiful friends who have known me the longest, my immediate family, the house i have lived in since i was born, and my nostalgia of the 10 bridges, powells, urban forest, and hidden staircases with portland, oregon. talking to Liane at the Foundation yesterday about our tie to different places, I associated the nostalgia and community that she feels about hawaii with my own hometown. there is something about portland that only Portlanders can understand- this fierce obsession, love, and pride that comes with living in such a livable, small-town-in-a-big-city. because of this, i don't think i can ever detach myself from calling portland "home," no matter where i go in life. 2735 will always be my permanent address (as far as I know!) and most of myself was created here.

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I associate discovery, independence, expanses of water, ferries, community, love of academia, sitting around with good food, wine, and company, and freedom with seattle, washington. in the last few months, especially, i have missed Seattle more than I have missed Portland. Almost entirely because of the people that I have met there, but I think that this can contribute to one's idea of home more than anything else. Yesterday I received a text from a good friend that said, "you need to come home! and yes, seattle is your home now." Even though I don't have any plans to stay in Seattle past June, at least for the coming year, Seattle has creeped into me and yes, I do think that I can call it home. I have lived there for three years independently, had my first apartment there and will be moving into my second soon. I have learned to love the city, its quirks, its people, its walkability, it's expanse, Seattle U, the family I have found there, and have learned to be annoyed at its less-than-efficient public transportation system (at least compared to pdx or sf).

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I associate restfulness, exploration, independence, public transportation, metropolis, identity as a twenty-something, and my corporate experience with san francisco, CA. i have only lived here for three months, but i have already begun to deeply love this city. i have been coming here to visit on my own for thirteen years now, to the point where the house on sanchez and my family there have become a second house and family. I don't think I realized this until I came to live here, how much my visits to san francisco have affected me over the years. you can never have a true grasp of a city until you live there, of course. when I arrived in June, I only had a rudimentary understanding of sf's geography and transit system, but I feel as though I have a handle on it now. working full time and feeling completely integrated into the corporate systems here have prevented me from exploring the city as I'd like, but that only inspires me to want to return. September 9th will not be the end of my relationship with this city and I hope to come back when life leads me this way again

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...and then there's family. i like to think of family in a broad sense. i have some pretty incredible people in my life, some friends that are too close and special to be considered friends. they are family. my sense of connection to family members has changed throughout the last few years. Becoming more independent has made me want to cultivate deeper connections with my family members, immediate and extended. I send more letters and texts to my Grandma, call my mom more often, and have added all my cousins, aunts, and uncles on Facebook. I have come to realize that despite all these strong connections with friends, family will always be there. My brothers and I will always have an inseperable bond. I may want to live in Cleveland at some point to connect more with my family ties there. I have also have come to accept that family does not have to mean just these people. Family can be what i think it to be. Two of my closest friends came to visit me in SF a couple weekends ago, friends who I consider family. There is a certain comfort, an ease of laughter, a lack of self-consciousness with them that I associate with family.

The thing that is most overwhelming is that I am only twenty-one years old! I can't even begin to imagine how my web of "family" and "home" will continue to increase as I get older, live more places, meet more people, establish strong connections, and even have a family of my own. How exciting! bring it on...

in summer, the song sings itself

“In summer, the song sings itself.” -William Carlos Williams

I don't know if it's just because I have more time to explore during the summer, free of academic commitments or tasks afterhours, but I seem to define my summers and my summer adventures through song. I always seem to discover new music and turn my new favorite tunes into mix CDs for my friends during the summer months.

It might also be because of my current musical interests, but folk, oldie, and bluegrass music seem to define summer to me. Some tunes I have been listening to and enjoying lately have been the Fleet Foxes, Blitzen Trapper (Portland band!!), and the Giving Tree Band (the philsophy behind this band is inspiring!) along with old favorites such as Old Crow Medicine Show, Cat Stevens, the Band, CCR, and Emmylou Harris.

Road trips also mean time and space for music exploration, delving into the depths of my ipod to discover and resdiscover tracks. I just returned yesterday from a delightful and relaxing family vacation/road trip. Last Thursday, Ann, Steve, Dylan, and his friend Philip and I hopped in the car and drove up I5 to Ashland, Or. The next day we were joined by Mom, Dad, Kevin, and Colin and we spent the next 3 days seeing theatre at the Shakespeare Festival, reexploring the town as we do every year, and in my case, spending money on gifts.

One of my biggest expenses, speaking of music, was a wonderful concert-sized ukulele! I am so excited to have a portable instrument like this aside from my large Martin guitar that is beautiful and smells nice but is also very heavy. It's also easier for my little fingers to find the right cords and sustain them on this little uke. I didn't buy it in Hawaii, but at least I am helping to support an independent music store in Ashland! Appropriately, it's named after one of my favorite "Band" songs...it's called "Cripple Creek Music Company." My stringed instrument career continues to grow! I've definitely been inflicted again with the creative bug! After being in Ashland and perusing artists' greeting cards, prayer flags, and musical talents, I want to write my own songs, record them collaboratively, create collage art, and write novels obsessively. I wish my summer allowed all that time but don't I always wish I lived two simultaneous lives?

We stopped for a night on the way back to the city in Arcata, CA Mecca for hippy and artistic-minded people like me. Steve is a Humboldt State alum and still has many college friends in the area. We had a fantastic time eating tacos and sharing stories with them in the evening and exploring the town the next day. I was lucky enough to find my heaven: Tin Can Mailman, one of the best and well-stocked used book stores I have ever seen aside from Powells! I was surprised to find a book I'd been looking for in SF book stores for weeks and lingered in the three aisles of nature-themed books. I could have spent a whole day in there and the staff was unusually well-read and very knowledgable about the stock! That's the kind of place I'd like to own. I would combine books with art and wrap it all up with good music and inspiring speakers.

Share your creative thoughts below!! I want to hear where your mind wanders...

all deep things are song

"Vocation is the place where your deep gladness meets the world's great need." -Frederick Buechner

I first heard this quotation last summer during my first exposure to the Shinnyo-en Foundation as a Shinnyo-en Summer Fellow at SU. I think it’s only fitting that this quote has become even more apparent this summer as thoughts of vocation and future are even more glaring. I am constantly thinking about what makes me deeply happy and how these happy things and talents can be used so serve in my post-graduate years. It doesn’t help that I am constantly surrounded by competent and amazing people at SEF who seem to embody understanding of Frederick Beuchner’s words and are putting their talents into action. Thoughts of understanding my strengths and what makes me “me” have been continually revealing themselves to me this summer…things like music (playing and appreciating), working with kids, writing, learning from other writers, publishing, enjoying the outdoors, simple living, and promoting peace and harmony. Even though they are becoming more concrete and real now, I have come to realize that these things have been with me for my whole life, things that have always defined me as long as I can remember.

The music piece became especially apparent today as I ventured up to the Marin Headlands to do a reflection activity on behalf of Shinnyo-en with my coworker Maura. We were invited by an organization called “Music National Service,” which is kind of like the Peace Corps for musicians, to come do an introductory reflection about service and our “roots” for about 20 “fellows.” These fellows are either trained musicians, music teachers, and/or music therapists, who are being funded by our government to bring music into schools or hospitals or nursing homes. These are mostly underserved areas that do not have music education or any musical presence…somehow these fellows are expected to use their musical talents to create community and to bring people together. The concept is incredible. (http://www.musicnationalservice.org/)

When Maura and I walked up to the building where the group was meeting, a great sense of peace washed over me. We were surrounded by trees, a soft breeze, and the scent of pine. When we reached the top of the stairs, I heard the sound of “Blackbird” being picked on a guitar accompanied by soft singing overlaid by intricate piano playing further interspersed with various drum beats. We were completely enveloped by the music. After about fifteen minutes of set-up and introductions, I felt completely at home. I could relate to these people right away in a way that I cannot completely explain. It wasn’t that I was on the same page with them musically (in fact, I felt somewhat intimidated by them), but after leading the reflection activity, I felt as though I wanted to know every person in that room in a very deep way. I wanted to hear each person’s story. This doesn’t happen too often and I just went along with the warmth I was feeling in my heart.

There is something about music that touches and moves people in a way that nothing else can. I can think of nothing more real, authentic, and creative than music. It is universal, it can define a person or a culture, and when a person shares music with you, I feel as though they are sharing a very intimate part of their soul. Music makes us want to connect—to our humanity, to who we are individually, and to each other. It is the earthly and sensory representation of something beyond what we can create. We can surely be creative with music, but the creation itself is something that I will never understand. To hear tight harmony is something magical.

The universe has strange ways of telling you things…things that seem normal. It seems as though these moments of intervention by the universe should be introduced with a warning like a bright light, a halo, or the stoppage of time. But of course it doesn’t happen like that. I’ve had weird and coincidental things happen in my life, things that have made me question the “randomness” of our lives, but have never labeled them as monumental or “telling” until today. First of all, I met a woman at the event at the Marin Headlands who was on staff at Music National Service. Turns out that her previous job was working in the environmental education field. What a small world! I asked her how she got into the job with MNS, and she said that her heart is with working in nature but that her passion in life is just to promote “education that works” regardless of the subject matter taught. What a fantastic way to think about the educational field! She has worked towards creating meaningful opportunities for kids with music and in nature, two things that are so universal to humanity and something that I could look forward to in my life in the future.

The other moment happened much later in the day, when I was walking down Chestnut Street to meet a longtime family friend for wine and appetizers at a wine bar. I had just had a stressful previous half hour, almost leaving my debit card in an ATM, trying to maneuver MUNI across town, and talking to mom and dad on the phone about my overstimulating day. I looked up to see a woman waving at me from a couple feet away. It was a woman who had been at the presentation I had done earlier with Music National Service! She recognized me by my Six Billion Paths to Peace tshirt and of course I recognized her. I couldn’t believe it. Turns out that she is also a site leader for the MNS folks serving in Seattle, one of their sites being Baily Gatzert Elementary right down the street from my house. Bizarre and telling. When she handed me her card, I couldn’t help but shake my head. If that wasn’t the universe giving me an invitation I don’t know what could be.

This is an aerial shot of the Marin Headlands, just to give a little visual taste about where I was today

The Marin Headlands Youth Hostel

the sun's out again!

The foggy, dreary, chilly weather in San Francisco has driven me into a little cocoon of sorts, quenching my desire to write blog entries and post pictures. It's been bizarre hearing about the sweltering heat wave in the Northwest when I've been wearing tights and sweaters to work! But today the sun came out and we drove down to scorching hot Santa Clara to see the Earthquakes play the Sounders (the Sounders lost horribly 4-0 but I discover that Sounders fans are just as die-hard outside of the Emerald City. They may have been obnoxious but they are also insistent so I loved the chanting coming from their little section). Anyway, I think that it’s time to share my life and musings a little bit again.

Plus it’s Sunday. And Sundays are peaceful days. Days when we can reflect on our weeks, take a run in the late afternoon or in today’s case run up 700 of the Harry stairs, cook food leisurely, let our bodies relax in our chairs and just sit. Sit and eat healthy food. Sit and enjoy the company of family. Sit and enjoy a good movie. I have watched two really amazing movies this weekend that have made me think…those kinds of movies that reel through your mind constantly for the next couple days. One was “Slumdog Millionaire” which everyone but me had seen. A Hollywood movie that somehow, amidst such Oscar hype, remained authentic and caught the essence of a third world country and the push and pull of poverty, power, dominance, privilege, heartbreak, chance, and life path that exists in this world. As has most things these days, it has prompted me to think more deeply about what my post-college gap year will look like: where I will travel and where I want to serve. The second movie is called “Defiance.” A fantastically beautiful piece depicting bravery, community, brotherhood, strength, the human spirit, achieving the impossible…a true story set amidst the horrors of WWII about three brothers who somehow save 1,200 Jews by hiding in a Belarusian forest for two years. Incredible. I found myself grinding my teeth throughout, horrified even by the Hollywood depiction of war. I can’t even imagine the reality. War is never necessary but it seems as though it is always the option that is chosen whether that be because of human greed, revenge, pursuit of power, prejudice, or other extremely complicated factors. We humans are constantly learning, but I think that we all need to learn to be more compassionate. Of course, I say this theoretically…entirely easier said than done.

My cozy little corner of the world here on Sanchez St. has been fairly uneventful it seems, just chuggin along on this little summer train of mine. But actually quite a lot has happened since my last blog entry! Far too much to bore you with in a long entry…so many morsels that sometimes it feels as though I’m wading in goodness.

Here are a few highlights and reflections from the past few weeks:

-One free weekend before A/S/D returned…I explored the Haight, Golden Gate Park, and waited 40 minutes in the Mitchell’s throng for an ice cream cone. Spent most of this weekend on foot with my point and shoot in hand.

-Helped to facilitate a “Peace Studies” institute for 6 college students who have received grants from the Foundation to start peace projects at their schools. Two were from SU who happen to be two of my dearest friends… I had a blast being a participant, a tourist, and an intern all at the same time. Went to Alcatraz, visited grantees sites in the E. Bay and Peninsula, and was introduced to raw “live” vegan food at “Café Gratitude” and “Pena Pachamama,” an Organic Bolivian restaurant with fantastic live music. Wonderful to have a bit of home here too with Gordon and Sean.

-Attended SEF and Youth Service California’s annual retreat. Theme was “Peace, Service, and Spirituality.” Spent the weekend talking about these things, walking a labyrinth, kayaked, did yoga, and ate fantastic food. Five other SU people from the Center for Service came and added to my homesickness…so good to see familiar and loving faces. Came away feeling restored, replenished, inspired and rejuvenated as is typical with retreats.

Here are a few visuals if you’re interested:

Walking up to the Coit tower...the setting sun was reflecting off an office building through the fog

I stumbled across Buena Vista Park which satisfied my hunger for trees, hiking trails, urban staircases, and foliage made into peace signs

One of my group members reflecting at the retreat. Tomales Bay in the background...

Los Angeles I'm Yours

Revisiting the concept of surreptitious meetings between people, I have had quite a few unexpected interactions and experiences riding public transportation in both San Francisco and LA which have been quite entertaining and enlightening. I have been spending quite a lot of time alone in the last couple weeks, as my aunt and uncle have gone out of town until next week. Therefore, I have spent a lot of time either home alone watching “That 70s Show,” baking crisp, watching soccer highlights, going on runs in this extremely hilly neighborhood, and writing posts like these or spending time people watching while walking in the neighborhood, taking public transit, and riding the wave of the crowds downtown.

I will start with LA, the city that this post is named after (I’m really not that enthralled with LA, I just like the Decemberists’ song “Los Angeles I’m Yours.”) After I left the highly emotional and over stimulating environment of Youth to Youth at Claremont McKenna College, I boarded the Metrolink train at the Claremont station bound for Union Station in downtown LA. I hadn’t seen one of my best friends from high school, Ester Kim, in over a year and was on a mission to get myself into the city so that I could spend the evening with her. Alone once again after spending a surreal week surrounded with people, when I arrived at the Claremont station, I was first unsure what to do. The station looked deserted and closed, so I panicked for a second whether trains were actually running. I walked around the station to see an older man probably in his 70s sitting complacently on a bench and saw a train ahead fast approaching the station. I didn’t have a ticket, so I asked the man how I could buy one. He said I wouldn’t have time as the train only stopped for a few minutes at a time.

The thing that I find most interesting about public transportation is that no one talks to each other. I ride the BART or MUNI to work every morning with hundreds of other people at a time I have not had one vocal conversation with any other commuter yet. Similar to my reflections on Youth to Youth, you never know when you will connect with someone at any time, including strangers on a train! I have always believed this to be true, but have never had a real captivating example of human connection until I rode Metrolink.

So, I boarded the train with the older man, sitting across from him because he seemed knowledgeable about the system and would be able to explain anything to me. He was holding a thick book that was written in what looked like Spanish or Italian at first glance. After a couple minutes of silent thought, I decided to surpass my fear of awkwardness and break the conversation barrier, asking the man if he took the train often. It turns out that this was all I needed to begin a captivating conversation. The man’s name name is Jerry and he rides the Metrolink often to go into the city for lectures and meetings for Los Angelian artists and visionaries. He is a retired art history professor and lives with his partner in Claremont. He taught at Pomona for years and now spends his time writing about how to teach art/painting or about very specific moments in Church history as they relate to sacred art. It was fascinating talking to him and even though he was somewhat hard of hearing, he sensed my interest in his stories of traveling abroad and studying art. He is fluent in Italian, German, French, and English and can get by with Spanish and various Scandinavian languages. It was unbelievable! His eyes would light up when he talked about his academic/professional interests which were also his personal interests and he liked to quote classic writers including one that I don’t remember who geniusly quoted, “For every language, there is a soul.” It’s so true! I feel like somewhat of a different person when I speak French and Jerry explained how a different personality of his comes out when he speaks German. He also explained the nuisance of just learning how to speak Italian…because one uses different muscles to speak this language, Jerry’s lips were often sore by the end of a day in Italy. These are only a few of the captivating stories that Jerry told me on this hour-long ride. We both enjoyed each other’s company, and it was interesting how eager he was to talk to me about his interests. Was he lonely or just excited to have someone to talk to about his interests?

After my overnight stay in LA with Ester where I discovered “LA Live,” a restaurant that had 138 beers on tap, and the fact that downtown Los Angeles is actually more green and tree-laden than downtown San Francisco AND Seattle (but not holding a candle to Portland), I took the Metrolink out east once again. This time I sat across from a middle-aged African American woman who I connected with right away. She was visiting LA as well and was riding the Metrolink for only the second time, just like me. She had come into the city to attend Michael Jackson’s funeral a few days prior and was staying with her cousin out east. Turns out that she is now living in the East Bay, so close to where I am currently living and had previously lived in Seattle for 13 years! Not only that, but she had lived in Shoreline where I lived only a month ago! Before that she lived in Portland!! Her brother lives in the same neighborhood that I grew up and he works at OHSU where Dad works. Finally, she had spent some time in Eugene where her daughter went to South Eugene High School, where my freshman roommate, Dewey, went. What a small, small world! We laughed together about all these crazy coincidences and she kept saying, “You are following me, girl!” It was awesome. When she got off the train, I realized I didn’t get her name.

These two stories reminded me of the fact that everyone on this planet craves human connection and meeting other people. It’s funny to me that I had to travel to LA to really realize this…who knew LA was so personable! Sharing stories is one of the most basic ways we can share our common humanity with each other. Once you break the invisible boundary with a first “Hello” or smile, you become acquainted. What’s crazy is that’s all it takes.