Once upon a time, there were humans. And humans created. And it was good.
Time passed, and humans kept creating. And it was very good. So good, in fact, that humans no longer wanted their first creations. So they set aside a special place to put these old goods where they could fade into the earth from whence they came. And it was good.
Time passed, and humans continued to create, both new goods and new humans. And humans spread themselves and their goods throughout the earth. And it was very good. But by this time new goods were created so quickly that the old goods did not have proper time to fade into the earth from whence they came. Even from their special places they were getting in the way of humans. So humans decided that they would make new things from old things. And it was good.
Time passed, and humans created all the more, and filled the earth with their goods old and new. And humans created goods that came not from the earth—easily made and easily used—and found them easier to create than use again. But these goods did not as easily fade into the earth, for they came not from it, and were not easily turned into new goods. So the special places filled to the brim and overflowed with these goods.
And it was not good.
Until humans came to the understanding that the earth is precious, and that the greatest good in all the earth was not the newest, but the good that could transcend all the changes from old to new: the good that had always come from the earth itself. This was life. And it was good. And it was so good that humans decided to protect it, no matter the cost.
So time passed, and humans always created, for it is part of being human, but they did so with the entire earth in mind, so that new things were not only very good, but were made to be used again, and to fade into the earth. In this way humans preserved life. And it was very good.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
my smile is the child of a truthless old heart
i am a tree
and i have wrenched my own roots
from the land where i have grown.
i have left a hole in my homeland
and have found none to reclaim
or i am frightened
that once i have settled again in the dirt
i will only uproot myself once more
to find another hole
and leave another behind.
In other words, I've been going through separation anxiety. I miss you. A lot. I have been on the verge of tears, longing to be with you: not just emailing and talking on the phone (not that I've been doing that either), but joying in impromptu jam sessions, late-night philosophical and silly discussions, toasts with fair-trade coffee and old lime jell-o, and hugs, hugs, hugs (whether sandwich or otherwise).
I Love you, and I want to be with you fully. But I am afraid that when I return, my hole will no longer be where I left it. I am afraid that I have built for myself a world where I can go anywhere and still miss someone deeply and horribly.
Please, someone, please! Convince me that it is the good and strong and responsible thing to do to come back and be with you. Because this is what my soul yearns for. But I have a responsibility to the world to foster Love, and I am told that I am being trained in the best way.
But I disagree. With myself.
and i have wrenched my own roots
from the land where i have grown.
i have left a hole in my homeland
and have found none to reclaim
or i am frightened
that once i have settled again in the dirt
i will only uproot myself once more
to find another hole
and leave another behind.
In other words, I've been going through separation anxiety. I miss you. A lot. I have been on the verge of tears, longing to be with you: not just emailing and talking on the phone (not that I've been doing that either), but joying in impromptu jam sessions, late-night philosophical and silly discussions, toasts with fair-trade coffee and old lime jell-o, and hugs, hugs, hugs (whether sandwich or otherwise).
I Love you, and I want to be with you fully. But I am afraid that when I return, my hole will no longer be where I left it. I am afraid that I have built for myself a world where I can go anywhere and still miss someone deeply and horribly.
Please, someone, please! Convince me that it is the good and strong and responsible thing to do to come back and be with you. Because this is what my soul yearns for. But I have a responsibility to the world to foster Love, and I am told that I am being trained in the best way.
But I disagree. With myself.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
As an opportunist
I wept
whenever I could
and filled this bottle
which I now present to you
O my precious flower
may you live long
fed
by my tears
whenever I could
and filled this bottle
which I now present to you
O my precious flower
may you live long
fed
by my tears
Monday, June 23, 2008
(from months past)
there is light
beneath these sheets
and the fruit
upon this tree
is ripe
so take what you crave
but please be sure
when you are through
to leave a seed
or two
beneath these sheets
and the fruit
upon this tree
is ripe
so take what you crave
but please be sure
when you are through
to leave a seed
or two
Monday, June 16, 2008
In Celebration
My jowls have now returned to nearly-perfect working condition since the extraction of my wisdom teeth a week ago, and in celebration I warmed up the frying pan for some scrummy goodness. After the grilled-cheese sandwich for my mum I still wasn't satisfied, so I perused the kitchen in pursuit of exciting ingredients to fry. First I fried a few thin slabs of banana, but found them to have reached a pudding-like consistency, which was nonetheless rather tasty. I had about a third of a banana left and decided to fry it whole. But in what? Why, honey of course! With large splashes of cinnamon dashed atop!
It was, quite surprisingly, successful.
It was, quite surprisingly, successful.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Fireflies
it was about midnight
and overcast
and i stepped outside
and i saw
tiny flickering dots of flame floating through the damp night air
and i remembered
for just one moment
why i ever believed
in a god
and overcast
and i stepped outside
and i saw
tiny flickering dots of flame floating through the damp night air
and i remembered
for just one moment
why i ever believed
in a god
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Ave Maria
from the heights
she returns to her nest
wielding the words and worms
which once were fed to her
as the solitary sister
she utters a whisper
that wafts its way across the wilderness
she is ready
and at that
she spreads her freshly-feathered wings
for her grandest flight yet
Ave Maria
off to Korea
she returns to her nest
wielding the words and worms
which once were fed to her
as the solitary sister
she utters a whisper
that wafts its way across the wilderness
she is ready
and at that
she spreads her freshly-feathered wings
for her grandest flight yet
Ave Maria
off to Korea
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Aw Man!
Fever=102.1°F
Headache=Yes
The good news is that it's very unlikely to transmit or receive an STD via sweat! (Sweat-ually Transmitted Diseases? So that's that the no-hug rule is for! Thanks BMA!)
Headache=Yes
The good news is that it's very unlikely to transmit or receive an STD via sweat! (Sweat-ually Transmitted Diseases? So that's that the no-hug rule is for! Thanks BMA!)
Sunday, April 13, 2008
One Man's Trash = Another Man's Feast
So I was sitting on the banks of Kearcher Creek reading Searching for a God to Love by Chris Blake with my dear not-yet-month-old Juniper (new bicycle! Ginny for short) when a wandering idea crawled its way into my wandering mind. I grinned and rose with a stretch, stowed the book in my makeshift pannier, and made off for the dumpsters of Kings Market.
Yes. Mark the date: the thirteenth of April, two thousand and eight, the day of my first dumpster dive.
It was strangely exhilarating to dig through the mess of bags bulging with empty juice boxes and unneeded receipts. I felt like I was doing something good for the world. It's not that I was hungry or needed the food. It was just curiosity that drove me, along with the knowledge that I'll probably need to do this again this summer to survive. But there was still this bit of apprehension or shame or whatever it was that made me walk away innocently when I saw shoppers sauntering to their nearby automobiles. And among the broken eggs and burst yogurt containers I found my prizes of slightly outdated Lays Chips and Lemonade Tea.
Most of the good food (i.e. fruits & veggies) were in this massive mechanical compacter that just barely let me see that full package of cherry tomatoes shining back at me through a slit. I decided not to reach my arm inside, for fear of it getting chopped off by the machinery. It just seems like a shame for all that food to be wasted. Peppers and carrots and full bags of spinach—it almost hurt to not take anything.
So with a slightly fuller belly and lighter heart Ginny & I pedaled homeward, but not without stopping at the Taco Bell (and their massive vat of grease—biodiesel!). But it was at the McDonalds that I found the real surprise. I saw that someone else was nearby. "Probably an employee," thought I, and went closer to talk.
The man was medium sized, covered in a dirty Cabela's jacket and dirtier jeans, with a scruffy slight-beard and honest eyes. He held a large jug of water. I offered him a bag of the chips I had found. He took it and thanked me. I asked him where he lived. "Outside." He told me he lived alone. His name is Lee. He thanked me again and tromped off with his water to peruse the Dunkin Donuts bins.
My eyes followed him as he walked back. I will find him again.
Yes. Mark the date: the thirteenth of April, two thousand and eight, the day of my first dumpster dive.
It was strangely exhilarating to dig through the mess of bags bulging with empty juice boxes and unneeded receipts. I felt like I was doing something good for the world. It's not that I was hungry or needed the food. It was just curiosity that drove me, along with the knowledge that I'll probably need to do this again this summer to survive. But there was still this bit of apprehension or shame or whatever it was that made me walk away innocently when I saw shoppers sauntering to their nearby automobiles. And among the broken eggs and burst yogurt containers I found my prizes of slightly outdated Lays Chips and Lemonade Tea.
Most of the good food (i.e. fruits & veggies) were in this massive mechanical compacter that just barely let me see that full package of cherry tomatoes shining back at me through a slit. I decided not to reach my arm inside, for fear of it getting chopped off by the machinery. It just seems like a shame for all that food to be wasted. Peppers and carrots and full bags of spinach—it almost hurt to not take anything.
So with a slightly fuller belly and lighter heart Ginny & I pedaled homeward, but not without stopping at the Taco Bell (and their massive vat of grease—biodiesel!). But it was at the McDonalds that I found the real surprise. I saw that someone else was nearby. "Probably an employee," thought I, and went closer to talk.
The man was medium sized, covered in a dirty Cabela's jacket and dirtier jeans, with a scruffy slight-beard and honest eyes. He held a large jug of water. I offered him a bag of the chips I had found. He took it and thanked me. I asked him where he lived. "Outside." He told me he lived alone. His name is Lee. He thanked me again and tromped off with his water to peruse the Dunkin Donuts bins.
My eyes followed him as he walked back. I will find him again.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Black History Month
(from an unfinished older post)
Today I was talking with my friend, Maya. We were exchanging family history. You know, how my Great Great Grandfather Hans Christiansen emigrated from Denmark for religious freedom and how on my mom's side, my one extra-great Grandfather Forester was one of the merry men of Sherwood Forest (i.e. Robin Hood), and even helped to coerce King John to sign the Magna Carta. Of course, I never know how much of this is true and how much is the master storytelling of my grandfather. It's all in good humour, though.
Then it was Maya's turn. On her dad's side her linage can be traced to Jamaica. Her mom's side, though, can only be traced back four or five generations. Slavery. I don't know why it hit me so hard. It hurt me to know that my own blood relative would own
I think that moment was the first time I really understood racism. Not the racism of those days, but today's racism.
It's like this song we're singing in choir about how wrath of God. It's a fun song, and it usually doesn't have much meaning for my skeptic self. "For he the Lord our God / He is a jealous god / and he visiteth all the fathers' sins / on their children to the third an the fourth generation of them that hate him." Happy stuff, eh? I definitely don't think that there's a god spanking the sinners and all their kids for everything they and their fathers have done wrong. But it is true that some wrongs just don't erase themselves, even after several generations.
Slavery is one of those wrongs.
Today I was talking with my friend, Maya. We were exchanging family history. You know, how my Great Great Grandfather Hans Christiansen emigrated from Denmark for religious freedom and how on my mom's side, my one extra-great Grandfather Forester was one of the merry men of Sherwood Forest (i.e. Robin Hood), and even helped to coerce King John to sign the Magna Carta. Of course, I never know how much of this is true and how much is the master storytelling of my grandfather. It's all in good humour, though.
Then it was Maya's turn. On her dad's side her linage can be traced to Jamaica. Her mom's side, though, can only be traced back four or five generations. Slavery. I don't know why it hit me so hard. It hurt me to know that my own blood relative would own
I think that moment was the first time I really understood racism. Not the racism of those days, but today's racism.
It's like this song we're singing in choir about how wrath of God. It's a fun song, and it usually doesn't have much meaning for my skeptic self. "For he the Lord our God / He is a jealous god / and he visiteth all the fathers' sins / on their children to the third an the fourth generation of them that hate him." Happy stuff, eh? I definitely don't think that there's a god spanking the sinners and all their kids for everything they and their fathers have done wrong. But it is true that some wrongs just don't erase themselves, even after several generations.
Slavery is one of those wrongs.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
I Bleed Because I Love
So after I answered various questions about how I have not, in fact, paid anyone for sexual services in the past year, I was given my little test tubes and waited in the queue to bleed.
The day is Monday, January 28, 2008. The event is my first ever blood donation. Yes, it's true, and i have the yellow smiley-face wrap to prove it! This was a moment of indeterminible excitement for me. For every previous blood drive I had either been too young or... well I guess I was just too young. But still! I had been looking forward to this for weeks, and it was beautiful. Yes, it is bizarre to have a great metal cylinder protruding from your arm and sucking the blood out of your body, but it's a happy kind of bizarre, you know? Like, "Blood, my dears, you have served me well. I am proud of you. Now serve someone else!" It gave me this burst of energy, like I felt for the first time in a long time that I was actually doing something worthwhile. Like I was finally saving the world, one squirt at a time.
The day is Monday, January 28, 2008. The event is my first ever blood donation. Yes, it's true, and i have the yellow smiley-face wrap to prove it! This was a moment of indeterminible excitement for me. For every previous blood drive I had either been too young or... well I guess I was just too young. But still! I had been looking forward to this for weeks, and it was beautiful. Yes, it is bizarre to have a great metal cylinder protruding from your arm and sucking the blood out of your body, but it's a happy kind of bizarre, you know? Like, "Blood, my dears, you have served me well. I am proud of you. Now serve someone else!" It gave me this burst of energy, like I felt for the first time in a long time that I was actually doing something worthwhile. Like I was finally saving the world, one squirt at a time.
Conscious Cafe
It must have been just under a year ago when all the BMA touring groups met in Carnegie, PA, just out of Pittsburg, to help clean up one of the shops. They were still making repairs from the Hurricaine Ivan damage, which had blanketed the town in about five feet of water. The building was nothing when we were there last year. Completely bare and in need of serious repair.
Now a year later and we come back to find that this place is ________________ (gah! can't find a word to describe it!). It's a coffeeshop, wifi hotspot, used bookstore, town living room, and community service center all rolled into one perfectly aestetic building. I don't know what happened to it. I just know that it's perfect.
Run by Andy, a big friendly man with a big friendly beard, and his wife. Along with B (Beatrice, 25-ish and very warm) and Paul (the man is Bobby McFerrin incarnate, I'm telling you).
So, Conscious Cafe was built for adults and business meetings. The surprise was that it has become the town's teen hang-out spot. Once the cop came in the place, and he was utterly astounded, because he had arreseted half these kids before, and here they were learning to work together and watch eath others' backs. Learning to be true citizens.
I'd like to work at a place like that someday. Why not next year?
Now a year later and we come back to find that this place is ________________ (gah! can't find a word to describe it!). It's a coffeeshop, wifi hotspot, used bookstore, town living room, and community service center all rolled into one perfectly aestetic building. I don't know what happened to it. I just know that it's perfect.
Run by Andy, a big friendly man with a big friendly beard, and his wife. Along with B (Beatrice, 25-ish and very warm) and Paul (the man is Bobby McFerrin incarnate, I'm telling you).
So, Conscious Cafe was built for adults and business meetings. The surprise was that it has become the town's teen hang-out spot. Once the cop came in the place, and he was utterly astounded, because he had arreseted half these kids before, and here they were learning to work together and watch eath others' backs. Learning to be true citizens.
I'd like to work at a place like that someday. Why not next year?
Daddy
In actuality, I never really had a daddy. Sure, I have a biological father. We share a house, 2/3 of a name (his is Edwin Ernest Christian II, whilst I am Edwin Peter Christian), a love of music, and a bunch of genes. Our young'n'hood pictures are even practically identical, save for the lack of colour in his. Yet despite all these common traits, I have many times felt a great distance between my father and I.
He is my dad. Not my daddy.
I believe in openness (see "Get Naked! A Social Experiment" in the future), but I will not use that as an excuse to gossip about other people, no matter how true the stories are or how close the person is to me. So I'm not going to complain about all the things I've been mad at dad about. I can speak for my own problems, though, and I truthfully say that the one person I have struggled most to Love, no, the one person I have hated, has been my father.
Because sometimes I feel hurt. Or cheated. Or that mum got the raw end of a deal. There are things that I have had such a hard time forgiving, even things that aren't his fault. He does care for us, and tries to show his Love. It's just a pale misfortune that the main way he shows Love is by buying stuff. Which would be nice, but since I've claimed an anti-consumerist attitude, it's almost like I've become anti-my-father by default.
It is sort of a constant truth of nature. It's often hardest to love the people who you are closest to. You see this story every day.
But I've decided that I don't want it to be this way. If I am to become an advocate of Love and Peace, I need that to come down to my every action and interaction. Maybe the situation isn't ideal, and maybe my dad will never be the perfect family man, but I'm okay with that. He's my father, and I choose to Love him.
So this is my resolution. To learn to truly Love my father. Not only that, but to respect him and his opinions, and to really like him. Because he is a good person, I choose to see the good in him. I will treat him like a friend, so he can be a friend.
He is my dad. Not my daddy.
I believe in openness (see "Get Naked! A Social Experiment" in the future), but I will not use that as an excuse to gossip about other people, no matter how true the stories are or how close the person is to me. So I'm not going to complain about all the things I've been mad at dad about. I can speak for my own problems, though, and I truthfully say that the one person I have struggled most to Love, no, the one person I have hated, has been my father.
Because sometimes I feel hurt. Or cheated. Or that mum got the raw end of a deal. There are things that I have had such a hard time forgiving, even things that aren't his fault. He does care for us, and tries to show his Love. It's just a pale misfortune that the main way he shows Love is by buying stuff. Which would be nice, but since I've claimed an anti-consumerist attitude, it's almost like I've become anti-my-father by default.
It is sort of a constant truth of nature. It's often hardest to love the people who you are closest to. You see this story every day.
But I've decided that I don't want it to be this way. If I am to become an advocate of Love and Peace, I need that to come down to my every action and interaction. Maybe the situation isn't ideal, and maybe my dad will never be the perfect family man, but I'm okay with that. He's my father, and I choose to Love him.
So this is my resolution. To learn to truly Love my father. Not only that, but to respect him and his opinions, and to really like him. Because he is a good person, I choose to see the good in him. I will treat him like a friend, so he can be a friend.
Monday, January 21, 2008
The Definition of Adulthood
"Being an adult means that it's your turn to do good for other
people." --Mom
people." --Mom
music > sex
Sure, sex is pretty cool, but if I had to choose, I would definitely
go with music, hands down.
go with music, hands down.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Profound
It's not that I haven't been thinking lately. Discovery just seems so much less profound when someone is being paid to help you along with the process. For example, psychology class is fascinating. I've learned that ADHD is much less real than we think, and that lots of answers to prayer are most likely just placebos and self-fulfilling prophecies (sort of casts a different light on "your faith has made you whole"). In music history, I've been learning about the unearthly sounds of modern music, such as the use of atonality (meaning the song has no key or tonal centre—conservatives: if you think rock music is of the devil, wait until you hear this!). And leadership has been popping up in little places telling me what my strengths are, and what a strength is in a first place. And the most exciting, for me at least, is that I'm (attempting) learning some of the most famous and hardest arias in opera history (i.e. "Fiiiiigaro, Fiiiiiigaro, Figaro, Figaro, Figaro, Figaro...."). At least it seems that way.
So why is my mind so numb?
Maybe it has to do with my lumpy shrivelly feet. I don't know where they came from, but I know that I went on a ski trip on Sunday and the next day I woke up and found the areas between my heel and arch on both feet, er, shriveled. It's very bizarre. At first I freaked out and thought it was athlete's foot, but the symptoms don't match at all. Perhaps the strangest thing is that they don't feel itchy or painful or uncomfortable in any way, and don't smell any worse than usual. But those lumps just aren't going away. Maybe I've contracted a foreign foot fungus, and I can be sold in a museum. That's one way to make bike money! So, if you, the reader, happen to be a dermatologist, any diagnosis?
The good news is that I am the proud owner of a brand spankin' new
which means my water intake is going to go up. It's even sexier than the picture! It's very shiny and comfortable in the hand (ellipses beat circles any day!) and just the right size. Thanks to Katie, I am now one more step towards being relatively cancer-free. (For the others, check out these bottles at mysigg.com. Way rockin'-er than Nalgene.)
So why is my mind so numb?
Maybe it has to do with my lumpy shrivelly feet. I don't know where they came from, but I know that I went on a ski trip on Sunday and the next day I woke up and found the areas between my heel and arch on both feet, er, shriveled. It's very bizarre. At first I freaked out and thought it was athlete's foot, but the symptoms don't match at all. Perhaps the strangest thing is that they don't feel itchy or painful or uncomfortable in any way, and don't smell any worse than usual. But those lumps just aren't going away. Maybe I've contracted a foreign foot fungus, and I can be sold in a museum. That's one way to make bike money! So, if you, the reader, happen to be a dermatologist, any diagnosis?
The good news is that I am the proud owner of a brand spankin' new
which means my water intake is going to go up. It's even sexier than the picture! It's very shiny and comfortable in the hand (ellipses beat circles any day!) and just the right size. Thanks to Katie, I am now one more step towards being relatively cancer-free. (For the others, check out these bottles at mysigg.com. Way rockin'-er than Nalgene.)
Monday, January 7, 2008
Rebuilding a Family
I have thought up many complaints about how my house doesn't feel like
a home—How my immediate family doesn't seem like my real family.
a home—How my immediate family doesn't seem like my real family.
I got home from California early this morning and went to my room.
It was just how I left it—my guitars in one corner, my books on the
shelf, my papers strewn atop the double-size bed.
And I realized that I had created my own cocoon. A refuge for my own
personal isolation. Everything I need (save a lasting water supply and
chamber pots) is kept in my quarters, so I need only leave when I have
various appointments—school for instance.
I realized that—though I complain about distance between the members
of our family—I was adding to the distance. Maybe I'm not the only
problem, but I'd much rather be the solution.
So from this day forward I make a pledge to use my room only when
necessary. This means sleep, and sometimes not even that. If I'm going
to be serious about this openness thing, I need to stop hiding! If I'm
serious about Loving everyone, I need to learn to really Love the
people closest (geographically & hereditarily) to me.
So, no more privacy for me.
(Coming soon: "Get Naked! — A Social Experiment ")
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
What's in a Name?
"Her lips by any other name would taste as sweet...."
You know all that bother around the holiday season—Christians bugged
at people who write "Christmas" as "Xmas?" "Hells no! You's done X'ed
out my Christ!" Well, this may be horribly insensitive of me, but I've
begun spelling my last name "Xian." I mean, hey! It's short and sweet,
and looks kinda Asian! What else could you want in a name? (Plus it
gets kinda confusing when I say "I'm not a Christian." "Oh yes you
are!" Point.)
So what if I ever got married? Okay, it's not really on my list of things to do before I die, but a guy can't help but wonder if that special lass may one day come along....
It has been traditional for many years: When a man and woman come together as one, this truth is further evinced by them uniting under one (sur)name, usually the husband's. This symbolizes the woman's passing from the care of one man (her father) to the next (her Lover). When people began using their family trades and occupations as last names (i.e. Baker or Smith), it made sense for the lass to change her name to match her new family career. So the new bride is not only donning a new name and family. She begins a completely new way of life.
Today things are a bit different. What with feminism and equal rights,
as well as the decline of family business, people are becoming less
and less likely to side with tradition, myself included. Some couples
put their two names into one as a mutual sacrifice, symbolizing a
completely new creation. The names are combined either as wholes (a
hyphenated and really long one) or in parts (a sort of pseudonym).
Some husbands change their names to match their ladies'. And some couples don't change their names at all, out of convenience.
This is all very well, but it makes things a bit more difficult when
naming the young'ns, and when tracking down family history. And what about the people who marry several times?
(Topics will be further explored in future posts about Love & sex. Mostly because I can't think of any way to finish th
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
My Values
Optimism: Am I finding the joy in everything?
Because one's outlook on life largely determines the life's outcome, I choose to live with joy, as I believe it is the best way to make myself and others happy.
Gentleness: Am I letting Peace on Earth begin with me?
If I am to be an advocate of Peace in general, I need to live up to that standard in my personal choices. Because I truly believe that an affirmative Peace is the best way to live, I will not threaten it, even if it compromises my personal opinions.
Truth: Am I expressing my self, my whole self, and nothing but my self?
I strongly believe that if each person were to be completely open about who they are, and what good and bad they have in their lives, we would live in a near-utopian society, where we could truly know each other and respect each other's differences. Because I believe this, I choose to share myself with others as openly as possible. I must also keep an open mind to others as they share with me.
Interdependence: Am I cultivating community?
My friends are of the greatest value to me. Because people matter, I will act like it. Because life is short, I will not pretend to take more pleasure in interacting with a machine than a real human being. Because I Love people, and I Love nothing else, I will give them my upmost attention, even if it may cause me personal loss.
Wisdom: Am I moving forward?
I am on a journey to unknowable depths, and I acknowledge that I may never arrive at Point B. I will not, however, become complacent where I am, and will continue to strive forward in search for who-knows-what.
Because one's outlook on life largely determines the life's outcome, I choose to live with joy, as I believe it is the best way to make myself and others happy.
Gentleness: Am I letting Peace on Earth begin with me?
If I am to be an advocate of Peace in general, I need to live up to that standard in my personal choices. Because I truly believe that an affirmative Peace is the best way to live, I will not threaten it, even if it compromises my personal opinions.
Truth: Am I expressing my self, my whole self, and nothing but my self?
I strongly believe that if each person were to be completely open about who they are, and what good and bad they have in their lives, we would live in a near-utopian society, where we could truly know each other and respect each other's differences. Because I believe this, I choose to share myself with others as openly as possible. I must also keep an open mind to others as they share with me.
Interdependence: Am I cultivating community?
My friends are of the greatest value to me. Because people matter, I will act like it. Because life is short, I will not pretend to take more pleasure in interacting with a machine than a real human being. Because I Love people, and I Love nothing else, I will give them my upmost attention, even if it may cause me personal loss.
Wisdom: Am I moving forward?
I am on a journey to unknowable depths, and I acknowledge that I may never arrive at Point B. I will not, however, become complacent where I am, and will continue to strive forward in search for who-knows-what.
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