the place
the movie
the trailor
the review

san francisco bay. . . . bay windows

bet you never knew where they got their name, i didn’t either…

…but now, i’m a proud renter of one.

’so where are you living?’

i get this question a lot by clients, new friends, random public transportation people.

i have to smile as i answer, ‘on a couch in berkeley,’ for several reasons…

one] it seems as if in some time in everyone’s life, they should have no other place to call home but a couch in a friend’s living room. i mean seriously. always having a room and knowing you have a place to lay your head is completely overrated. living with only the contents of 2 suitcases for a month and changing in the living room… who wouldn’t want that?

two] if ever someone were to move to san francisco with only what they could carry and with no other plans, it seems as if their adventure should begin on a couch in berkeley. this is where backpacker era began, right? it’s only fitting that i join in with the indigenous community and support such free-loading spirit.

three] finding a temporary place to crash has allowed myself to get my bearings in the city while not requiring me to fully invest myself there yet. berkeley has a small town feel, nearly unheard of once you cross the bridge into san francisco. living as a ‘bridge and tunnel’ person has allowed me to dip my feet into the city before it’s time to dive into it via an apartment. soon enough, but right now, the water’s cold.

four] if you had friends like i did, you really would want to enjoy sharing life with them as long as you possibly can by staying on their couch. most couples, i feel like a third wheel, but nikki and kevin are different. aside from nikki’s frequent ‘kevin!’ and his ever, ‘i’m joking, kidding,’ i feel at home and at peace. when everything else seems to be changing and moving, i means more than i can say to have friends with history and memories to share over the dinner table.

fifth] do you have any idea how much it costs to find a decent apartment in the city?!
ha! i might be here longer than they think!

this is the third year in a row i’ve ’started over’…argh… ’start over’… that phrase automatically conjures up preconceptions and presumptions in my mind. these linked notions include words like… ‘new beginning’ as if the previous end was undesirable, perhaps a ‘clean slate’ as if to say the wrongs are behind me and a clear canvas ahead, or even more appropriately, ‘back to the drawing board,’ implying the first idea was not quite right so let’s try it again. [fyi... architects rarely use drawing boards anyway despite what we may tell you.]

hmmm… yeah. i don’t like any of these ‘new beginning’ phrases and i don’t really like new beginnings.

three new places in three years. in fact, over the past seven years, i haven’t lived in one place longer than 10 months and the number of roommates i’ve had is 21. you’d think i was running, you’d think i was restless, you’d think i was confused, you’d think i couldn’t get along with anyone. but what if i told you none of the above is true?
what if i told you not all who wander are lost?

maybe, just maybe, i enjoy this nomadic season of life… experiencing diverse places and living with interesting people, the fabric of my world becomes more intricate and rich with each thread woven into it. with each place and person, my perspective changes and evolves; few important things in life seem black and white anymore… poverty now has names and faces, ‘need’ is a relative term, and ‘doing good’ usually isn’t an easy decision. strangely, other complicated mysteries have been made more clear…beauty no longer has a price tag, the search for Truth is universal, and real love comes without conditions. i never intended on finding these lessons, but they found me in the midst of transition and then they changed me for the rest of the journey.

so somewhere in between ’starting over’ in wichita, ‘moving on’ to india, and ‘beginning again’ in san francisco, i’ve realized i’m a wanderer. though i hate the helplessness i often feel, i love the faith it grows. despite my need for control in uncontrollable situations, i learn to trust in ways i never thought possible. even though i know the first couple weeks are the most painful and difficult, i’ve wandered enough to also know it always gets better. and despite my often directional confusion and slight detours which others might describe as ‘lost,’ i’m really not. promise.

Part anthropology, part history, part deconstruction - this is new material that Rob hasn’t taught before, exploring how humans invented religion to make themselves feel better.

the tour.
the community.
the videos.
the books: velvet elvis & sex God.

a lyrical remix of the words which have been accompanying me in lately.
sometimes, others say it better.

and i won’t back down
i won’t turn around and around
and i won’t back down
doesn’t matter what comes crashing down
i’m still gonna stand my solid ground
won’t back down [mat kearney]

i can tell by your eyes that you’re not getting any sleep
and you try to rise above it, but feel you’re sinking in too deep
oh, oh i believe, i believe that

it’s going to be alright
it’s going to be alright
it’s going to be alright [sara groves]

and i don’t think that i can even remember
why it was that i came to this town
this is the hardest thing i’ve ever done before

because i just want to be lonely tonight
just me and my Maker in this cold moonlight
lonely tonight [matt wertz]

I know your heart is weary, I know your hope is gone.
I know the night is all around you. I know you don’t feel strong.
I know your burden’s heavy. I know the tears you’ve cried.
I even know your broken heart and the pain you try to hide.
but don’t you know that I’m your Father, remember you’re My child.
let My love remind you of this promise one more time

.you’re never out of My hand. you’re never alone.
.when the winds of life surround you, let Me gently lead you home.
.I’ve created you, I love you. I’ve called you my own.
.you’re never out of My hand. and My child, even now, you are never alone.

everyone dances. some in steamy night clubs, others a grand plié on the horizontal bar. perhaps you skillfully avoid the cracks as you’re walking to work or maybe you spin around in your apartment when nobody’s watching. someway or another, you find a way to physically express an internal feeling, you bring to life dreams of silent rhythm, you move in a way only you can move. as for me? i like to dance on the soccer field.

i haven’t played in a couple of years, but that’s what’s amazing when you learn to dance your dance, it’s like riding a bike. okay, so maybe i’m a little more winded… er… a lot winded… after 20 minutes of playing [how on earth did i play for 90 min without a sub in high school?!], and maybe i don’t have the finesse i once had on corner kicks. but when you find your dance, the skill matters less and the passion matters more.

there’s something incredible about playing now for no coaches are yelling over my shoulder, my team are decided by the color of shirt i wear when i arrive, and i play on a team with others i’ve never met. 7pm on monday nights i show up at the park by the metro stop and just play… not because i’m good or bad, muslim or hippie, white or black, boy or girl… i play because i love to play. and after 20 years of dancing, i love it more now.

i slipped my cleats on for the first time in years, oh, how my feet have missed you! the worn leather becomes an extension of my foot, a layer to my skin. the memory of the laces, the color of the sole… yes, i love wearing my black heels. and yes, new balance 760’s are my favorite. but nothing, i repeat, nothing, will ever replace my dancing shoes… it’s like dreaming with my feet.

i pulled my shirts from their places on the hangers and squeezed my 3 oz bottles into the 1 qt bag as tightly as i could. one last scan of the room before i wheeled my luggage down the hall. i think i’ll tire of this suitcase soon…it will continue to be my dresser for the next month until an apartment is found and the rest of my things arrive. as well, work will require its use often, already a trip next week to la and this is only the beginning. but it’s okay… i get the feeling this job is going to take me other places as well not accessible by a plane.

i begin to mentally prepare myself for a couple meetings this morning before i fly back to san francisco in the afternoon. i push the elevator button on the eighth floor of my portland hotel. the door opens and i roll my minimal belongings across the threshold into the mirror lined container.

the door closes and the descent begins. just me an another.

he breaks the silence with the generic question, ‘heading home?’

i turn to him to answer, but the words don’t immediately come…

oh, if he only understood the depth and acceptance such a question implies… should i try to explain the struggle i’ve had with the word ‘home’ and that the definition has become more of a fluid concept than a tangible place? should i speak of the people who have made me feel at home or the moments which have held more belonging than any place could ever have and that i am no longer returning to them? should i tell him three months ago i left my ‘home’ in india and one week ago my ‘home’ in kansas? should i tell him i now sleep in a couch in a city i don’t yet know and wonder if i’ll be able to make it home?…

the elevator dings and i realize i’ve encouraged the awkwardness with my mental discussion and physical silence. he stands, still awaiting my answer with quite a confused look on his face

finally, i reply, ‘yeah. i am… i’m going home.’

he really has no idea how hard that question was and what it required me to accept.

i think it’s the light. i haven’t quite been able to put my finger on what it is, but i know the light has something to do with it. the rays come down soft and almost diffused, though no cloud acts as a filter and the blue skies remain in their purest form. the light here makes me smile.

i sit on the steps today and am enjoying making friends with these california rays. they’re friendlier here than i had anticipated. there’s sound of traffic cruising by and breezes in the trees. when i close my eyes and lay my head back, all i see is orange; bright, warm orange.

the kansas chapter ended. i stepped away from a place, away from a home. it was hard. i never thought it would be so difficult to leave. the step is different than india, further and more permanent. though physically not as far, emotionally another world. in my journey of growing up, it is a giant leap. it is an establishment of my own path and a separation from the people who’ve brought me here. did i mention this was hard?

but now, it is a new day. to everyone else, it is business as usual, but for me, it is a new beginning to a new life, a new place, a new city. it’s going to be big… i can feel it. my heart seems to anticipate something my head cannot yet comprehend. and as chris thile’s protege-ic melodies flow over my fingers, i search to find the words of the bigness. the sun warms the pavement as my legs soak in the resulting heat. only a few hours into my california residency and somehow, someway, this place fits me. i cannot wait to see how and why.

‘welcome to san francisco,’ the sun seems to smile.
‘thank you for having me,’ my grin responds.