:: current thought ::

:: our truest life is when we are in dreams awake. ::

henry david thoreau

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Then I Did.


:: 
saying you've been waiting all your life for a break like this
it's a chance of a lifetime
you just know it is
you gotta go find those dreams
was the last thing that you said

and then i did

but you were wrong
love was what i wanted all along. 

i thought about calling you when i got off the plane
every time i see this city through the clouds, i get that way

but you were wrong
love was what i wanted all along.
::

rascal flatts.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Waiting.


:: I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. ::

C.S. Lewis

Strawberry Swing.


Enduring (and actually enjoying) the 10-hour drive from Lake Volta to Tema with Rachael Wise and sweet, sweet Moses.

I was in Ghana last week. I went for work and we had the most incredible trip. (Check out the Touch A Life blog for day-by-day recaps of our adventures while we were there.) While we were there, we were blessed with the opportunity to rescue the most amazing 12-year-old boy. Moses was supposed to released from his slave master on Lake Volta in September but, due to a series of miscommunications (including an instance regarding the slave master and his family's mysterious disappearance, in which they took Moses and the rest of their trafficked children to an uncharted island), we were unable to place him in one of our Touch A Life programs until last week. 

Moses was frightened when we saved him. Despite the abuse he's faced while working on Lake Volta as a trafficked child for the past four years, he cried when he left his island. I suppose that's because life on the lake is all he knows. Within minutes, though, Moses sensed that the people who were taking him away from the island were trustworthy, and the hugest grin spread across his face as he boarded the boat that would take him home. His life will never be the same.

There were two instances in which I thought God must have been smiling down on Moses. The first was when I was sitting on the front porch of the Village of Life (one of our programs that provides vocational training for 14 to 18-year-olds we've rescued off of the lake) reading a book while the sun set. I sensed a presence behind me and, lo and behold, sweet Moses was shyly standing there. I gestured for him to come sit on my lap (he doesn't speak English yet, so we communicated mostly through hand motions) and he obliged. I set down my book and gazed into the hazy, purply horizon. As Moses happily snacked on a Tootsie Roll pop, I thanked God for that moment. "Surely," I thought, "this is what heaven must be like."

The second moment when I tasted a glimpse of the Kingdom was on our drive from the lake back to Accra/Tema. The drive is, to put it lightly, heinous. It is ten and a half hours of pure torture. I am not exaggerating when I say that the drive is traumatizing. On our way up to the lake, our driver was being so crazy that our vehicle demolished two goats crossing the street. Seriously, we pancaked a little baby and destroyed the hind legs of its mom. Too much information? I can't say I feel sorry for you since I was the one who actually saw it...

I digress. All of that was to say that I was not looking forward to the return trip to Tema. But an added bonus to this drive was that Moses was with us. He sat next to me on the ride home and thought it was hilarious when we'd fly over bumps during our five hour trek on dirt roads. He was giggling, playing with our cameras and grinning like a crazy man. It was beautiful. The best moment, though, was when, as he sat next to me, he flung his arms around my waist, cuddled his head into my chest and fell asleep. Moses had finally reached a level of comfortability with me that allowed him to feel safe, an emotion I'm sure he rarely experienced on the lake. Just as sweet Moses was drifting off, Coldplay came on my iPod. And nothing could have encapsulated that beautiful moment better than the lyrics that played at that very instant:

:: They were sitting
They were sitting
In the strawberry swing
Every moment was so precious

They were sitting
They were talking
In the strawberry swing
Everybody was for fighting
Wouldn't want to waste a thing

Cold, cold water
Bring me round
Now my feet
Won't touch the ground
Cold, cold water
What ya say?
It's such
It's such a perfect day
It's such a perfect day ::

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Classifieds: Santa Monica Resident Seeks Position in Venice Drum Circle or Graffiti Gang.

Once upon a time, this man, while cruising around Venice on his Rollerblades, sang me a song called, "Mysterious Angel." It was lovely, really.

Venice, CA, is one of my favorite places in the country. Venice shares a border with Santa Monica and while the two cities are separated by nothing more than an imaginary, government-created line, the cultures of the two towns couldn't be more different. Santa Monica seems to cater to the lives of young professionals while Venice is the place that hippies, yogis and vegans call home.

Despite the fact that I love living in Santa Monica and that I've found much that I can relate to in my neighborhood on Colorado Avenue, there is something about Venice that is irreplaceable. I always end up taking visitors there; I think it would be a travesty for anyone to miss out on this one-of-a-kind town. Take the Venetian local in the above photo, for instance. He was hilarious, entertaining and quirky. And though I met him probably four or five years ago (when he serenaded me with his smash hit, "Mysterious Angel"), I never forgot him. The same goes for the muscular guy who wears a Speedo and yellow cat-eye contact lenses while he cruises the streets lining the beach. Or the kids lounging on the side of the street market, waving signs that proclaim that they "will work 4 weed."

I think the thing that I appreciate most about Venice is that, as weird as the community is there, the people are so refreshingly real. The Rollerblading musician? Doesn't care what Hollywood (or anyone with ears, really) claims the definition of "music" should be. The weight-lifting Speedo-clad man? Clearly has no worries regarding body image. The languid potheads? Just honestly want weed, and aren't going to pretend that they're something they're not.

A few weeks ago, I went for a run along the beach in Venice and I found myself deciding to walk through the street market on my way back to observe the people there. It was in that moment that I found myself to be the most down-to-earth I'd been in awhile. I felt as though I was truly a part of humanity, a part of a community that protects the idea of being true to who you are, a part of a town that cherishes individuality. Are there some (legally) insane people in Venice? Absolutely. But I'd take the honest, soul-baring, true-to-themselves crazies over anyone else any day.


One day I'll join a graffiti gang or a drum circle in Venice.

Friday, March 6, 2009

The Power of Love.


:: When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace. ::

Jimi Hendrix

Ghana's Independence Day.


I poached this post from an entry I made on the Touch A Life blog. But I couldn't really help myself because ever since I wrote this post, I haven't been able to stop thinking about the paradox of Ghana's Independence Day.

Today is Independence Day in Ghana. On March 6, 1957, the people of Ghana celebrated the end of colonial rule in their country. Many workers in Ghana have been given the day off to recognize and honor this important date.

This holiday, comparable to the American celebration of the Fourth of July, is exciting and noteworthy. But it is also a reminder that though the country is free of outside rule, independence and freedom are not exercised by all. Hundreds of children are still enslaved on Lake Volta, and they need our help to enjoy the independence that the rest of the Ghanaian citizens are celebrating on this very day.