Oh to be

Oh to be the fingers plucking the strings of a guitar. Skillfully creating the magic of music that moves even the strongest men to tears. To be the strings that come together in unison to elicit such powerful emotion, melting the being of ice into what it was made to be, a being of flesh.

To be the man behind the hands, working the strings in such a way as to say and convey the depths of his soul to a world full of those who may or may not let themselves be affected by the sheer beauty of that which he creates. How I long to be moved in such a way as those strings cause, bringing light to the darkest parts of my heart that have been hidden away by insecurity and what’s become the norm of being.

What touches you is just pleasing to me, and what ravages me is just to you a simple melody. I don’t pretend to grasp how it works, how pitches and tones can find their way, penetrating even to the marrow of your bones, opening what has been clamped shut for years.

To be utterly laid bare by the chords played by a musician on a guitar is something that I long to understand but resign to accept with all its mystery

As my head now pounds and my body aches with illness, I long to have the skills to make that kind of music. Music that bridges the great gap, the divide between heart and intellect. That brings you outside of yourself and allows you to see something bigger than the self. Transcendence. Connecting heaven and earth in such a powerful way that I cannot say with words what I desire to convey. So if I had the skill, I would resolve to play it.

Oh to be the fingers that glide over the strings, creating a profound depth with the sound that rings out from the body of that humble instrument. To be the strings that are caressed as a beautiful mess is redeemed through the art of music.

Some say that the deepest desire of humanity is to be known and to be heard. How is a musician any different? They bare their soul through the way they play, just asking to be heard, for someone to truly listen what they choose to say.

How purely perfect to be the hand that strums and picks with such poignantly precise power, redeeming though beauty, restoring by means of melody.

I’ll never understand quite how it works, that notes on a page played with skill can move so deeply. Can connect with one’s very being, healing and exposing and ripping walls and makeshift bandages away, revealing what’s truly hidden underneath. That which we would never share voluntarily is exposed through the amazing beauty of music.

Rivers and Roads

I can think of several friends who would’ve really enjoyed today. Sunrises, mountains, raging rivers, strange sights, barbecue…WoLong style.

We woke up at 4:14, got picked up, and drove to meet the Hong Kong students a little before 5. Then we all piled into 4 cars to drive to see the sunrise in the mountains. It was an hour drive and we were all exhausted. It was also freezing. Literally. We got there at 6:00 am. Everyone got out for about 10 minutes, Justin and I set the camera up, and then we all went back to the car. The sun doesn’t rise till about 7. We were doing a time lapse, so thankfully we didn’t have to stand out with the camera. It was dark until then, and the sun came up slowly, but at the last second it got quite beautiful. The suns rays were peeking over the mountains and showered the other mountains with streaming sunlight. Snow peaked mountains next to barren grassland covered mountains. We were driving through the valleys between them, up and down them. So wherever you looked you were blasted with beauty (minus the occasional electricity wires).

We stopped several times for the students to take pictures of snow, for most had never seen it or only seen it a few times. Unfortunately, my absolutely frozen feet caused me to stay in the car and look out the window (did I mention that Justin and I and our stuff was crammed into 2 fold-down back seat chairs?).

Then we pulled up to another spot quite high up on the mountain surrounded by grasslands dotted with yaks. We all got out and hiked down through the barren ground, taking time to sit on the occasional rock and just rest in the magnificence of the mountains. We ate our “breakfast” (some rice and peanut bars and an apple) just across the mostly dry river (for it is the dry season). The students were pretty photo happy, but other than that, what a sweet silent relief it was to run ahead and just sit on one of the rocks overlooking the mountain range (which apparently is a part of the Himalayas). The brown shrubs and grass grew up, the trickling water flowed down. And the mountains stood majestically still, dressed in coniferous trees and snow.

After we continued our trek down the grassland, scaring the yak herds away, we loaded back up into the cars and continued our drive. For well over an hour. Of course, it was broken up by stops along the road to look.

Right along with our finding of several bones, a yak horn, and a jawbone, we saw a great deal of blood beside the road. We didn’t know what it could have been, but we soon found out. There was a group of people along the road with a large boiling pot. Unsure of what it was, we kept looking. And sure enough, several men were skinning a fairly large goat right on the side of the road.

We finally arrived at the next destination, one of the Chinese conservation centers. We got out and eventually began the hike (if you can call it that) down by the river. Amazing. Just an few minutes ago we were in a seemingly barren grassland, but now we were in a lush forest, complete with stands of bamboo and waterfalls. It’s sad to think that this place used to be heavily populated by tourists, but now because of the earthquake and subsequent landslides, there are hardly any.

The coolness coming off the water and the warmth of the sun balanced each other out quite nicely. The pace was leisurely (I’m not sure the students have done much hiking in their time…) and the landscape gorgeous. The water crashed over the rocks and flowed cleanly through the valley. A beautiful natural blue crystal color it had. Did you know bamboo sheds it’s skin when it outgrows it? Or that watching small birds in a thicket is so peaceful?

After our walk back to the cars, we drove to another location where our crazy driver decided to back all the way in. And there wasn’t exactly a road to even follow. We carried all our supplies a little more than a quarter mile up a partly dry river bed to an already blazing fire. It was time for barbecue…WoLong style J No hamburgers or hotdogs here. No barbecue grill. No utensils or smores. But there WAS an enormous fire (if you even got close, consider your eyebrows gone). And a slab of pork, covered with a layer of fat, that was cut into pieces. And 2 whole chickens, head, feet and all. A bag of potatoes and sweet potatoes. Tofu waffle things. Bean curd sausage things. Loads of eggplant and cucumbers. A giant head of cauliflower. And looooottts of Sichuan spices and oil.  And it was all cooked over an open fire with freshly cut bamboo skewers. What an adventure it was. These kids have never really had a fire before, and it showed…

The chicken was the most interesting to watch the cooking process. We attempted to cook and eat and eat and cook, all on the bed of rocks smoothed by years of water rushing over them. In a valley between mountains, with remnants of landslides on either side of us.

All this was beautiful, but what really got me was the natural radiance of the earth. The grass and trees reach skyward. The water flows downward. The bamboo shoots up. The birds flit across the sky. The goats and yaks graze. The sun pours down and warms all that is below.

Some mountains are snow covered and dotted with trees, some are barren. But both are still mountains.

There is such a sweet simplicity in it all. You can get lost in the mountains in a moment. Away from all that races and strives for striving sake. In the rays of the sun, with the mountains enveloping me and the river roaring below, what once seemed very important and consumed my energy now fades. And one thing remains.

Peace.

A Mish Mesh of thoughts.

Oh the sights you see and the people you meet. From pollution filled Beijing to the calm yet uncertain terrain of WoLong, if you’re open to see it, it’s amazing what you’ll learn. I admit, this has been a struggle for me, but already, I can see how my perspective is changing. Being across the world reminds me of sitting in the valley of the Grand Canyon. Or sitting under the vast array of stars in my own backyard. Or at the edge of a great lake at the base of the snow-covered Tetons. Or even here in Sichuan, where the huge peaks completely envelop WoLong. They all have one thing in common. They all make you feel small. And the things you once thought to be so important seem to fade into nothingness. Entering into a new place, with new people, regardless of the location, opens your eyes to how giant your ego is and how self consumed you can be. There are so many people. Just like me. But slightly different in the way they live. They way they see and relate to the world. Some have been around the world and back several times. Others have never left their village, like here is WoLong. But outside of the comfortable place I call home where most everyone is on the same page, I’m faced with a world that is so much bigger than I ever imagined. More people than I could ever fathom.
Yet I’ve realized that I can learn from all of them. I admit that in a way, I’m afraid of talking about anything “real” for fear of resentment or misunderstanding due to the barrier that language poses. But what constitutes as “real”? Why am I creating a divide between the “secular” and the “spiritual”?
I would be lying if I said the questions have left and I have it all figured out and I know how to live out this gospel. The questions still flood in, the thoughts swirl, and I feel like I’m swimming in a pool of uncertainty, but I’m not drowning because my feet are standing on something solid. So I will continue to swim.

I’m realizing that I can try and try to embody this ideal being that I have conceived in my mind, but I will never get there. I can strive and fail and cry, but I will never be this figment of my imagination. But there’s something else I’ve realized as well. Why am I trying to be someone I’m not. To fill in a figure I cannot physically fill. Yet there is such freedom and beauty in being empty. In letting go of what I perceive I should be and recognizing my own lack, my own fallacies, and laying even those down. Becoming completely empty. So that by the grace of God I can be filled with the Truth, Grace and Love of reality. Through that grace and by that love, I can then love. And that’s where I am. Learning what it means to love. And I really am not sure how.
So maybe this circle of sense and rationale I knew as Christianity and reality is, in fact, a bit bigger than It seemed to be. And what freedom to walk in that and breathe the fresh air of the Kingdom of God. I’m still unsure of what that means, but I will walk forward, and I pray I have eyes to see, hands to receive, and a self to experience that reality.

It’s such a different way of life here. In Beijing everything is always moving, people everywhere and not a green thing around. But in WoLong, the people are few and strong, most from Tibetan origin, having never left the village since they’ve been alive. To make matters worse, what was once a booming tourist attraction for the pandas sake, is now almost inaccessible due to the 2008 earthquake. People are so friendly, but I still wish I could communicate. The landscape is stunning and you don’t have to look far to see cattle, goats, sheep, or yaks running around grazing throughout the countryside.

27 hours later.

27 hours later our train ride finally ended and now we're in Chengdu.
My brother wasn't lying when he said everyone stared and people didn't care if they were caught in the act, nor did they seem to think it weird to continually snap photos or even stop to ask us to pose. There are so many people everywhere, traffic is a a nightmare, and the number of bikes and mopeds is terrifically high, yet pollution still saturates and contaminates the air. I never thought I'd want to learn Chinese, but being completely surrounded by people who speak it elicits a longing to speak it fluently. To be understood. To understand. The desire of all human beings to be known and to grow in relationship with others who accept them as they are.
It's fascinating to see how differently the Chinese live, although there are many similarities. Foreigners are far and few between, and it seems that Christians are just as sparse. But when the foreigners get together, it's a world of a hundred different cultures all meshed together by the lose common bond of English. It's an adventure, that's for sure, and yes, I surprisingly find myself missing the mundane of being in the same place with the same people. But only a little.
It's also true that anything you want to do takes five times as long and you can expect most things to never end up working out, but you learn to go with the flow.
We made a day of hiking up several mountains to the Great Wall, a group of all nationalities, 15 in all. We started at 7am, took the subway for a while, met up with them, then took the bus for an hour and a taxi for more, then when we got to the site of the hike we were told we could do it no more. Someone had gotten hurt? huh. So two men were guarding the path and wouldn't let us through, no matter how we asked. So we tried to go around, but they cut us off, so we paid a local man to take us to the top. We hiked up for over 2 hours, then along the wall for over 2 more, then back down into town where we took the taxi back to the bus to get dinner. You'd think that hike would be tiring but not too hard, but the way my legs felt today tell me I wasn't in shape and now I'm paying for it by the soreness that pulses through my legs. Sitting/lying in a train for 27 hours didn't help get the soreness out either.
The other night was rough, questions and thoughts swirling in my mind, making it tough to sort through it all. But a kind friend helped explain in a way that made more sense than I thought possible, using a mix of words and pictures and even metaphors. Things look different here, but I look forward to what that means. I'm looking around to see the beauty of what's here and what's in store.
But now we're here in Chengdu, where we'll film and I'll help and who knows what else we'll do.

Quick update

11/6/13 (11/5?)

Well, I made it. Getting to spend time with dear friends before I left was so good. Then a late night followed by an early morning with a dear dear friend who gave up her time to take me to the airport. Everything in a backpack and a carry-on, my brother’s guitar in its duct tape case was my checked bag. The airline I was flying with was the only one with Chinese on the sign and tiny English below. I just got to read and chill at O’Hare for 4+ hours since we got there so early, but it was fascinating watching all the people. It seemed like there were only 10 people who weren’t Chinese on the flight, but when we got to immigration, the lines proved otherwise.

We boarded the plane like sheep being herded into a sheep pen and I found my seat. Next to a kind man who only knew very broken English. Since I’ve been able to communicate, at least minimally, with the people in most of the countries I’ve been to, this was a somewhat unfamiliar experience for me. I wished so badly that I knew Chinese so as to be able to converse with this man, but instead we struggled to find words to express our thoughts. I sought words he would understand and he reached for any words he knew. He works at a Chinese restaurant in Indiana, but was returning home to China. I attempted to speak the few Chinese words and phrases I knew, and he corrected me and taught me some more. As I was surrounded by an unfamiliar language and even somewhat unfamiliar food (chicken, cabbage and rice; pork, noodles and some onion type vegetable; grapefruit and oranges for dessert), excitement and anticipation began to grow in me. I’m really going to China. Literally the other side of the world. 14 hour time difference- talk about jet lag.

My entertainment screen didn’t work, so bits of conversation, 2.5 meals, 2 beautiful playlists, 1.5 books, and some unsuccessful attempted bits of sleep later we arrived in Beijing. I don’t remember the last time I have had motion sickness, but for some reason looking out the window at the blazing lights of the city below made me nauseous.

When we finally landed and stopped, my kind seat-mate waited for me to help me know where to go. We all crammed onto a bus that would take us to the terminal, and when we got there we walked through the maze of passages to immigration.

 I am actually in China. By the Chinese characters and language enveloping me, I could tell I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

Next was baggage claim, where I waited until I was the last one…and the guitar was nowhere in sight. After inquiring at the baggage inquiry office, I finally located the beat up guitar in the oversized baggage claim.  Then the handle broke.

Through customs and out to where Kozima and the driver were waiting for me! What kind people they are. We started the trip home, but again, I’ve never felt quite that car sick before, so we stopped on the side of the road for a minute, then continued home.

This house is incredible. It’s like a giant U with 2 courtyards in the middle. There are always houseguests and now there are 2 North Koreans, a Spanish speaking mother (Lotus) and her seemingly college age son (Mr. Kim).  Justin had made a dinner of sandwiches and cinnamon apples so we ate together and laughed. I can already tell this is going to be a fun/funny group to live with.  Now it’s after 10 pm here, but in Chicago it’s still just after 8 in the morning.

China. Here I am. And today I’ve decided to embrace you for what you are and humbly learn and grow in your presence. May this time not be a waste, may I not squander it in selfishness, but may it be a fragrant offering full of surprises and beautiful redemption.

Joy

Wrapped up in thoughts. Caught up in issues. Tangled with the self. But what joy it is to step outside of that and live life. Simply live life. Allowing yourself to see the beauty that drenches us every second. To see the redemption and restoration going on right now. The light overcoming the dark. The kingdom breaking in. Simple joy. Pure joy. Restore unto us the joy of your salvation. The beauty of self-forgetfulness. The radiance of true humility. Living in the present. Empty and ready to receive it. Humbled and ready to truly live.