it was an eventful night… i successfully set up our wireless router, public transportation closed because of a suicide, my roommates had a fashion show with their halloween costumes, and i experienced my first earthquake. almost exactly two months into my california residency, i have yet to feel the expected tremmors, until tonight. i felt bad wishing to experience one because that just seems ridiculous.

yes, it was me. i was the one who was selfishly hoping for this…
i wished this destruction on your city…

yeah, that just doesn’t seem right. so i tried not to think to hard about it but just secretly wished i would be around if it might could occur. and tonight, while laying on my bed talking to one of of my beautiful sisters, i watched my room shake and my water slosh. she was privy to my audio processing of the event and the narration of my things moving. i ran into the hallway to ask amanda if she just felt what i had,

yes. she stately replied… apparently it wasn’t that big of deal to her.

but don’t worry, all is well. 5.6 on the scale in san jose, but no problems to report. who was i to think i really had that kind of power anyway?! but just to be safe, i won’t wish for any more.

some girls always seem to have a man in their life…
as for me, i’d like to think there’s always been a running path in mine.

i don’t think either of us intentionally look for this constant presence our lives.
they’re simply predisposed to the male gender and i to open spaces.

and although there are many blatantly obvious differences between a tall, dark, handsome man and a winding, gravel path… i also believe there are many internal similarities we, the female gender, seems to be searching for. and at least for the purposes of this post, the ‘man’ in my life, aka ‘running path’ shall now be referred to as ‘he’, ‘him’, or ‘his’. [sorry men; this is not intended at all to compare you to trampled roads or manicured lawns...just one of my random musings so read on and humor me for a moment]

he first caught my attention in high school. i was captain of the varsity soccer team and decided such title required my fitness to step up to a new level of responsibility. it was my senior year and i left school two hours before everyone else did and two and a half hours before soccer practice began. sometimes i would spend the extra time lounging on the couch with a bowl of cereal and reruns of saved by the bell. but most of the time, i’d spend it with him. we’d meet up for a run in the neighborhood adjacent to mine. during those pre warm-ups and he challenged me to a level i didn’t think was possible and taught me to enjoy the discipline. halfway through our run, we crossed the wooden bridge over the water and would pause; that was our special place. he’d whisper in the trees and ripple over the water; i’d close my eyes and enjoy the moment. i’ve returned to that place many times since those first years together because he seems to understand; one time i went to let someone go, another time in trust again. now i go because it’s familiar and sometimes familiar is all i need him to be.

i met another in college though i never imagined i’d find him in a cemetery. just a half a mile from my house, i used to escape with him to decompress from a day in class and to prepare myself for another night in studio. some might say he has an eerie feeling, but i found him full of life. nowhere else could i go and be more reminding me of how alive i was when everyone around me was not. as i’d read the inscriptions and thought of the families behind the stones, he challenged me to live life more fully. i’d return to studio refreshed and revived; the bigger picture of life in mind as i turned my attention towards projects which mattered little. he had a way of helping me put things in perspective, letting the urgent move aside to make room for the important. i needed someone to remind me.

in india, he was my favorite part of the day. a figure eight, he’d take me by an expansive view of the himalayas and then along the edge of the valley. every morning, no matter how warm or cold, he’d meet me on the edge of the driveway and we’d watch the day begin together. he and i, we sorted through a lot of things on those loops; he pushed me to be real and honest with myself when few others could understand or were too far away to ask. sometimes, i he just let me cry… and he knew sometimes that’s all a girl needs to do. he didn’t try to fix things, we’d sit on the concrete bench and bask in the creation. that really was all i needed. i wonder if i’ll ever find another like him in a more beautiful place… i highly doubt it.

and now, there’s a new man in my life. even though i barely know him, i realized his presence has been missing in this california chapter. it wasn’t until i found an apartment, let life settle, and had the confidence to go out and explore did i fall in love with him in san francisco. even bigger than new york’s central park, he twists and turns more than any of the others i’ve previously enjoyed. there is excitement and exploration on my journey with him as we pass the roller rink, by the de yong museum, and over the waterfall. we haven’t spent much time together, but already i know he’s does something none of the others could… he leads me to the ocean. after 4 miles together, he spills me out into the sand and let’s me sit in full view of the crashing waves. he knows what i didn’t, i’ve been landlocked all my life, and he’s helped to break me free. he might be jealous when i begin sailing lessons or buy my wet suit for surfing or when the sun sets later than a run will allow. but rest assured, my new found path, i’m not going anywhere and i’m glad you’re not leaving me either.

i’m beginning to think its fall…
the crispness in the air tells me the seasons, they are a changing. the orange in the store windows and my favorite pumpkin spice latte for seasonal sale at starbucks. i’ve been invited to a pumpkin carving party and i feel the urge to stay in bed a bit longer with the late rising sun.

everything around me indicates that ‘fall has come’…
everything that is, but the leaves. the leaves remain silent…
visually and auditorily [is that a word?] unchanged.

what is it about these pieces of nature’s paper that brings a smile to my face. why does it seem that no matter how hard i try, i cannot recreate their brilliant colors? why does my year feel incomplete without their temporary presences in my life as i mentally and physically prepare myself for winter?

perhaps they’re nature’s stop light, turning from green to yellow to red and reminding me to slow down my pace of life. their dependable warning seems to alert me,

‘here it comes… winter’s around the corner… cold is ahead… prepare yourself’

but without their constant reminder over my head and under my feet, i’ll unknowingly be jolted into to winter’s arrival with no way to fight back.

on my run tonight, i contemplated this seasonal mystery. ‘why, SF, do you withhold such splendor? drive 30 minutes in any direction and the trees are clothed dramatically differently. but here, the tall redwoods are still rich with your shades of green. you haven’t spread yourself along the pavement nor sprinkled your remnants across the park. you remain complete and stubbornly attached within your safe branches.

‘i know you’re busy, there is carbon dioxide to process and sunlight to synthesize. but if i could make of you but one request… i’d really like it if you’d fall. so if you could help the new girl in town out, i’d sincerely appreciate it.’

’so, what do you do here in the city?’

i get this question a lot. it’s the natural result of being a new person… i get asked the most basic of questions over and over again. and the benefit of the exercise is i’ve had countless opportunities to practice my response. the ironic thing, i still cannot figure out how to answer.

‘well,’ i hesitatingly begin,
‘i’m an architect by education,’ immediate eye brow raise and two points for me.
yes, it is the perk of being a student of architecture… i’m automatically assumed to have a high income, high profile, and high intelligence.
i’ll let you in on a secret, though… none of the above are true.
but can i let you in on another secret? i probably shouldn’t even call myself an architect, as i don’t even have autocad on my computer… which as all newly minted architecture students know, is our only purpose is life.

‘but, now i’m working as a sustainability adviser,’ continuing my explanation.

here’s the next problem, most people back at home didn’t even know what sustainability is, much less how to advise in it. at least here, the word ’sustainability’ has crossed their eyes a couple of times and i get slightly less ‘deer-in-headlight’ gazes.

i attempt to explain… ‘i help architects, engineers, owners, and developers manage and design more efficient buildings. buildings consume 60% of the energy we use and if we can do it in a more responsible, productive, and efficient way, all of us benefit. building sustainably doesn’t have to cost more but rather makes money, and usually, results in much more wonderful spaces to live/work in.’

‘hmmm,’ they usually respond.

‘really, we’re just trying to save the planet,’ i usually succumb to the fru-fru answer that makes even me uncomfortable.

‘oh, i see,’ they conclude. ‘well san francisco is a great place to do it!’

‘that’s why i’ve come,’ i conclude in a way that’s sarcastic to me, but genuine to them. and the dialog concludes.

but really sustainability? what does that really mean? and ‘saving the planet’? come on, that seems a little out there, a little arrogant. both are a lot bigger than we can understand. it’s not creating buildings/organizations which use less materials, energy, and waste. it’s actually creating places and organizations which produce more energy than they use… places that bring life, that regenerate, that leave a area better than it was before they were there.

‘is that possible?’ you now ask.

i think so. i really think so. someday, i hope to see out how. in fact, i might be spending all of my ‘someday’s learning how to do it. and that, i don’t believe is a fru-fru answer. i’ll try keep you updated on my process. but for now, i’m going to figure out what exactly it is that i do and how to explain it better.

brightworks:
jessica [sitting second from left] & i [on bench] with the portland group [everyone else]
with our projects in the background

october 10, 1981 is the date of my birth and i wonder if my mom did that on purpose.

i think i was early… supposed to be a halloween baby. but maybe, just maybe, she knew i would someday love being born on this date… i mean she does know me well, i spent nine months tucked inside of her, listening to my heartbeat and teaching me to fall in love with the sound of a her sewing machine… and maybe her maternal instinct is stronger than i realize. maybe she knew somehow those number would guide a lot more than determine a date to blow out candles on a cake.

i still remember…

holly and i were sitting on the couch in our dorm room. we were both upperclassmen who moved back into the dorms to empower/reach/love the little freshman just starting their little college lives. we read, we wrote, we talked, we surrendered, and we submitted. she came willingly; i resisted a little.

okay. i resisted a lot….

but regardless of how we got there, we were there and weren’t go anywhere else any time soon. so we sat on that goodwill’d couch trying to figure out how we were going to live as lights on the fifth floor of haymaker hall.

the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy;
I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
[john 10:10]

i don’t know how we came to it or how it found us, but as we listened to the eighteen year olds running down the hall and music blaring out their doors, we knew a divine moment had occurred; a profound truth had been given to be shared.

ten10? i asked her as i put my pen to paper.

holly looked back at me with the kind, tenderness her eyes always posses.

yeah, she said in all sincerity. ten10.

and ten10 became our cry, our purpose, our prayer, our life. it became not just a group we lead but a way we lived… and tried to live to the full.

to the full? you ask. what does that really mean?

you see, Christ came for a lot of reasons. He came to bring Truth, offer hope, end suffering. but He most of all, He came to love.

and in a way i cannot explain, His love brings life. His love gives life. His love makes life.

and not just eternal, life after death kind of life. too many Christians preach but one message… ‘doom and gloom,’ ‘repent or suffer the consequences,’ ‘turn now or forever hold your peace.’

but He did more than that.

He listed to those who didn’t believe more than the ones who did. He ate with more who weren’t like Him than those who were. He didn’t wait for others to come to Him, He went to them. He loved; and He loved to the full.

yes, i believe we are made to live for eternity and i believe it is only through the sanctification of Christ’s death on the cross and acceptance of His payment that we are forgiven and receive His grace for the consequences our less than perfect existence deserves.

but i believe just as importantly, Christ came to love now and offer life in the here and now… life to the full in this moment. yes, we look forward to an eternity without suffering and struggle, poverty and war. but we’ve also been asked to bring His kingdom now; to offer healing to a broken world today, to bring peace in places of destruction, to love the undesired. He gives it to us without conditions…and so should we.

and the funny thing is, the more you give this kind of love away, the more full your life becomes.

the more you love, the more you live.

i know i mess this up a lot and i’m far from figuring it out…
i’m the most selfish person i know and do a poor job representing such a cause…
i know His glory doesn’t always shine through my broken cracks…

but it’s the point i’m aiming for.

ten10 is what i’m living for.

so maybe, just maybe, the next time ten10 rolls across your calendar and you’re enjoying a pumpkin spice latte from starbucks, the changing of the leaves and mentally making your christmas list, you’ll be reminded to yearn a bit deeper for another’s healing. maybe you’ll take a step a bit further in giving yourself away. maybe you’ll love in a way that brings life and life to the full.

if i had a candle to blow out, this is what i would have wished for…

ten10 to you today.

i slept on a bed for the first time in a month.

a real bed.

with high count, chocolate brown fitted sheet below my skin and a tucked layer of goodness above me. an authentic down comforter and custom, mom-and-daughter made cover allowed me to forget every previous cold, drafty night.

the steel head board dad and i fashioned together aestically holds the visual pleasure and functional warmth together. [though i doubt he'll ever want to move it cross country again] illuminated by a single light from above, it toys with me and silently beckons me to climb into its layers with my favorite pages. i might have to give in…

and i guess, as far as logistics are concerned, i’ve officially made the transition from KS to CA. i hold a bank account and i have a monthly transportation pass. i pay an exorbitant amount for rent and am learning the best muni line to catch into downtown. i buy groceries based on how much i can carry home and mooch off of my neighbor’s wireless connection. i sleep through the inherent noise of city living and am learning which coffee shop serves the best brew. i absolutely love watching the endless activity from my window and look forward to the many stories this city will tell.

i say ‘logistically’ to the previous observation regarding transitions because in all other ways possible, the transitional process is far from over. i know i’ve belabored this point and for my faithful readership, i’m sure you’re more ready than i for it to be complete. but this really has been hard, more so than i thought it would be. though not in a weepy-emotional way, but rather in a, i-still-don’t-feel-quite-like-myself-yet kind of way.

i’m ready to feel like myself again.

but until then, i’ll enjoy the stability of having my ‘life’ more in place. i’ll thumb through my old journals, tell you the stories of living with a cartoonist, writer and architect, and i’ll take time to enjoy the park nearby. trips to portland and pheonix are lined up first and then i promise, photos of the new place will follow.

and now, to enjoy a real big girl bed… a good night’s sleep is so underrated.

ko.yaa.nis.katsi (from the Hopi language)
n. 1. crazy life. 2. life in turmoil. 3. life disintegrating. 4. life out of balance. 5. a state of life that calls for another way of living.

there seems to be no ability to see beyond, to see that we have encased ourselves in an artificial environment that has remarkably replaced the original, nature itself. we do not live with nature any longer; we live above it, off of it as it were. nature has become the resource to keep this artificial or new nature alive.

it’s not that we use technology, we live technology.

the film consists primarily of slow motion and time-lapse photography of cities and natural landscapes across the US. the visual tone poem contains neither dialogue nor a vocalized narration: its tone is set by the juxtaposition of images and music.

the movie.
the music.
the site.
the explanation.

i wrote a letter to myself.

have you ever done this?

it’s quite a bizarre experience…

do you use i or me, you or us… i was afraid to contemplate such pronoun usage for fear of developing a psychological, bi-polar-ish disorder.

none the less, i wrote a letter to myself because i wanted to remember and i didn’t want to forget.

my indian friends mailed my letter to me a few weeks ago and it’s been sitting unopened, and unread amongst my belongings.

i was kind of afraid…

i was afraid i had forgotten what it said, which i guess is the purpose of writing it, but not reading its contents defeated it.

i suppose i was afraid i’d already forgotten what a year in india had done to the development of ‘me’ and that only five months after leaving, i had negated its importance.

despite the fear of ‘knowing’ is the even greater mystery of not opening.

so i did; i opened it… i even read it.

and guess what?

i failed.

i’m not who i hoped to have been.

and i’m not… nor will i ever be.

i’ll never figure it out. i’ll never love the way i want to. i’ll never give the way i should.

i stumble a lot and i find myself on the ground again.

but i pick myself up.

i try to extend myself the grace He so graciously extends me.

i leave the now opened/read letter besides my bed [air mattress, mind you]

perhaps i’ll do better tomorrow.

26 april, 2007

jill.

okay. it’s been a few months and the time you spent in india might seem as if it is a dream. but open up your photos, read through your journals; what you saw, what you did, it was real. in fact, it was probably more real then the place you find yourself in now. the people here are so hungry for the Truth, their souls crave love. don’t forget we are all in need; don’t forget your own.

right now i still have a month left in india. i am torn between wanting to stay for the purposes and the people but a longing inside to be on to the next thing. as i write, i have no idea what the future holds after the chapter here, i don’t know where you will be living or what you will be doing. but i do know He will guide. perhaps by the time you’re reading this, you’ll have a better understanding to where He’s leading. if not, it’s okay; He’ll direct in His perfect timing. just wait. remember open hands.

i’m scared that when you return to life as you knew it before, you won’t fit, you won’t have a place anymore, you won’t find satisfaction in things as you had before. but even more scary than not fitting in as you had before is that you will. you may slip back into the comforts and convenience of life and forget about the way you lived in india. they’re not bad; just remember that contentment doesn’t require complacency; remember that you can live with less and the simpler life is actually easier. it’s okay to be a misfit, to be a foreigner in your homeland. eternity has been written in your heart and when you grasp this, everything else will feel temporary. this world is not your home. remember what it is like when the Father guides your day, when you start your day at His feet…your attention is focused on what matters today.

many people will not understand why you went, but don’t worry about it. we are all on different walks of life and the Father is constantly teaching us new things. we are all works in progress and don’t forget that He has a unique story for everyone of us. i hope you’re helping others along on their walk and other ones are helping you as well. please find women to invest in, widows to reach out to, hungry to feed. you are wired to be in relationship; you have been blessed to be a blessing.

the changes that occurred in you as you were in india, were internal and life-altering. it is my prayer that those inside changes have made their way outside and that your life looks different now. i hope the actions you are making are speaking louder than any of the words you are using. i hope when people look at your life, they can see that there has been a shift within you, a purpose driven deeper into your soul. you found a greater sense of your identity in Christ in your time here. don’t slip back into the pattern and defining yourself by the mirror or job you have, the busyness of your calendar or the number of relationships you are in. pick up your cross each morning and remember your identity as a disciple.

look over your computer screen, what do you see? i look out now to see a fantastic view of the himalayian mountains stretched out before me. do you remember how much you loved this view? you may not have the same obvious beauty now; you may find busy streets and high rises instead of pine trees and snow… but the same God who is alive and working here created them both. find Him there.

.jill