i have spent a great deal of time this summer near the ocean.  i have not, as would be assumed, frolicked in the frothy waves.

a storm is passing through these parts and it angers the sea.  the gray waves pound the shore relentlessly, they throw themselves at the sand all hours of the day and night.  they never looked enticing to me in the least until they became large and ugly.  when the sea was placid and blue i walked by indifferently.  on an overcast, cool day, my best friend and i jumped in.

as a human being, i was given no skills short of logic and reason to combat the waves.  we do not belong on the shores, we belong near rivers and in the woods.  i stood in the surf getting pounded by the waves.  they would rise up out of the water, turn down towards me and crash over my body.  i would fall, grabbing at my swimming shorts, and tumble against the sand. 

there was something exhilarating about being pounded by the waves.  there's a point where you feel completely out of control when the sea is angry.  the waves push you too and fro and you struggle to keep your feet planted.  the 18 year old lifeguard sitting 100 yards behind you watching women walk by will do nothing if a wave takes you under and holds you there.
 we sat there suffering for some time.  we let the salt and sand punish us.  after a bit, we walked back to the house with the salt crystallizing on our skin and the sand forging its way into different crevices.  we felt miserable but, if not for suffering, how would we ever know beauty?

a giant, black, spoon has melted onto the dishwasher.  it's one of those broad, serving spoons used dole out mashed potatoes or corn and it was blown around inside of the dishwasher and eventually landed on, what my mother calls, the 'heating element'.  the heating element is a glorified coil at the bottom of the dishwasher which is a box shaped contraption that is located under our kitchen counter and cost a few hundred dollars.  we put dishes inside of it that we wash once in the sink.  this box will toss water around that is made warm by the 'heating element', eventually washing all of our dishes a second time.  after an hour, we can take out our dishes and place them in the cupboard only to remove them again in a few hours to eat.

maybe my dad is right.  we should just use paper plates and plastic silverware.  i couldn't even tell you where the nearest landfill is.

so, i sit here in my cool home (cool in the summer, warm in the winter, thus allowing us to perpetually prance around in short-sleeved shirts and jeans with socks on) just watching my world pass me by.  another day.  i wasted a lot of the morning sleeping and will waste a good chunk of the afternoon deciding what i should do that doesn't waste the rest of the day. 

we're all so comfortable here.  we rented a movie last night and spent a half of an hour trying to figure out how to get the dvd player and the television to talk to one another.  we were holding three remotes, one for the dvd player, one for the tv and the other for the stereo (the television speakers are wired through the stereo).  i sat on the floor pushing buttons and generally feeling frustrated while someone went up to the computer, started it (this is an invention we use to store information and play games that remove us from our reality), and found instructions on the internet (something invented by al gore, former vice president and general dolt).  eventually the movie played.

we watched a story about two people who were in love but very far apart.  the civil war had been their downfall and we learned that men don't have any logic and that two women can work together on a farm and do quite well, even if they do have to overcome a few emotional hurdles along the way.  the movie climaxed with a fight scene that took place in a snowy forest in the south (what?).  the two men shot one another while they were on horses.  i think the women might have cried but i don’t remember.

the movie was called 'cold mountain' but should have been called 'predictable story'. 
 and such is my life.  i'm sitting here, using al gore's invention and listening to that water box hum in the other room just trying to remove the black, plastic, serving spoon from its 'heating element'. 

i'd like to thank all of the people who came to salford mennonite church last sunday night to hear my talk about vietnam.  we had quite a turnout and some interesting discussion. 

i was nervous at first.  how does one go about summing up two years of experiences in 45 minutes of talking, but ended up having a wonderful time talking.  i seem to understand so much more about my experience after i'm forced to digest it verbally.

yesterday i went up to new york city with my best friend.  we boarded the train and, after an hour and a half, found outselves in the middle of manhattan. 

we walked down the streets for hours experiencing sensory overload.  we walked and said little.  we watched people of all shapes, sizes and nationalities go about their business at varied paces.  it was quite an experience.

we sat in central park for a couple of hours just laying on the grass and watching the blue sky.  the buildings framed the park and the trees framed the field we were in.  people sat all about, a dutch couple to our right, a french couple behind us and two new york city men talking about graduate school next to an orange bike.  we sat in the shade made when the beams of light from the sun a few hundred thousand miles away collided with the broad leaves of a tall oak tree.  the shadow was serrated. 

after a day of walking and watching, it was time to head home.  we boarded the train once again and proceeded through the void that is northern new jersey only to arrive somewhere in the middle of the lima bean shaped state to fall asleep in beds that were soft and supple. 

i’ve jumped for joy and ran in circles enough times in my life.  i’m tired and happy.  i sit in a tiny blue chair with just enough cushion and grin.  i grin like a thoughtless dog.
 
today was spent with a friend that makes me smile and blush.  we drove around and went shopping for food in a giant store with aisles and rows of boxes and cans waiting for some hapless person to slide them off of the shelf and into their metal cart. 
 
i am used to my american life again.  things move all too quickly and it annoys me.
 
last weekend was incredible.  i went out to a camp ground beside a giant pond where we i spent the day jumping and splashing with friends like children.  we paddled around the pond on boats and swam and giggled.  they were all happy to be there and many stories were told and many more went untold.  sometimes it’s just better not to say anything to someone you haven’t seen in a while.  sometimes it’s just better to sit there and talk about the grass or the water.
 
the memories of college days came pouring back and we talked about simple things but secretly recounted stories in our heads to ourselves. 
 
i went out to indianapolis to see my family and very important friends.  i will leave that to another day. 
 
you see, i have precious little time to spend with people i care about and choose not to waste it.  i look out on the world with the eyes of a child.  something about the ways in which the clouds move across the sky makes me bubble inside.

i haven't written in ages and do apologize.

i spent the last few days on a whirlwind tour of the midwest. it was wonderful and i have much to say about it but little time.

i drove through the night to get home arriving at six in the morning. as i left indiana, the sky darkened and a giant thunder head stood on the horizon. while it looked like i would be fighting dusk coupled with heavy showers, the setting sun actually made for the most serendipitous scene.

there they were, two rainbows, one larger than the other. they stood above the road like triumphal arches welcoming me back home. i felt blessed, like nothing would ever go wrong again.