pensar.

Like most people I am cursed with mind that never stops. Its not intelligent thoughts, its thoughts from the distant past to the unknown future. Touching on dozens ideas a minute, unharnessed and undisciplined. This in itself is not necessarily a problem it’s the emotional attachments that come with the thinking. A happy thought makes me happy but then---quickly to a sad thought and I decide to feel sorry for myself and loneliness follows promptly. The other problems with this is that you are never where you Are, you are always digging in the past or hoping for the future. Its like when you go on vacation and you say, “Oh its so beautiful here I want to come back here.” But we are there.
We just had a group of people come from Oklahoma. There was a guy named Justin among the group who said,” You have to be okay with being where you are.” If your home there will be times you wish you were away and if you’re away there will be times you wish you were home. It reminded me of what Paul says to the Philippians. “ I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
I think about my own life and how I am constantly hopping around to adjust myself to discomfort-physical, emotional, psychological. I either spend my time squirming away from some uncomfortable distress or look hungrily toward even more pleasure. I wonder how my life would change if I learned to trust God with my well-being and learn that secret of being content instead of getting dragged along the windy road of circumstance.
All of these questions came back to me one evening when I found a quiet bench to sit at in the park and I had decided to spend some time in prayer. No movement, no agitation, no distractions just focused prayers. As soon as I sat down I began to realize how cold it was and that I didn’t have a jacket. The air was biting and I was uncomfortably chilly. Then I started to think I was a little hungry and that a coffee might warm me up. I thought this is a bad time to pray right now, I need to get a coat and a coffee and then I can focus.
I presented myself with a little experiment-what if I sat through this for once? What if I just was cold for one long hour of my life?
So I did it. I sat there and shivered and got some goose bumps. If I could sit through this non-lethal physical discomfort what other discomforts can I sit through? What about emotional discomforts, which are even harder for me to endure? What about loneliness, boredom, anger, fears?
I realize that this experiment isn’t the most heroic act of history but I have never not quenched a thirst. I have been a puppet to this and a million of other small and large signals of pain or pleasure throughout my life. Whenever something happens I always react.
And I am righting all this because life and Spain is full of discomforts and in seeking the abundant life you have to revert from what attracts you and swim towards which is difficult. You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the promise that something greater has been offered for you. The bible is full of these paradoxes. Lose your life to find it, the last shall be first, the poor will be rich. It doesn’t make sense but that is where faith pervades and there is a lot to be said about faith…

churros and chocolate

A word about my body. I am gaining weight everyday, of course. There is chocolate on everything. And you don’t just have chocolate for a desert. You have it in the morning with your coffee, in your coffee, for a snack, after your lunch, on your croissant. I’m not exercising (except for walking up 8 flights of stairs if that counts) In my real life, I have been known to eat organic yogurt sprinkled with wheat germ for breakfast. My body is turning a blind eye to my misdoings and over indulgences as if to say live it up, the pastries are hot now. So I think to myself just one more and then Julia and I run out to look for the nearest focacceria.

But at the same time hardly anyone in Spain is overweight. This is for many reasons but one being that people walk everywhere. Not many people have cars. Haley and I saw this poor woman struggling up the street carrying a giant floor lamp in one hand and her sack of groceries in the other. (And she had heels on) Who knows how far she was going and to her it seemed just as easy to carry a purse. I saw a man who had just bought a TV and he was trying to duct tape it to the back of his bicycle. It’s quite comical to see the things people carry on the metro…mattresses, office chairs, and giant sacks of unknown objects.
The women who run my residencia are in incredible shape. They are all beautiful, full of spunk and over 60. (And all of them can beat me up the stairs without even getting their heart rate going I’m ashamed to admit) They all call me guapa, which I secretly love.

Riches.

Sometimes I wonder what I am doing here, I admit it.
Learning Spanish, visiting museums, taking photos, talking to new people, having café con leches, sitting in plazas. Can this be productive? What does productive mean and do I want it?
And generally speaking, though, Americans have an inability to relax into sheer enjoyment. Ours is an entertainment-seeking nation, but not necessarily a pleasure seeking one. Americans spend billions to keep themselves amused with everything from porn to theme parks, but that’s not exactly the same thing as quiet enjoyment. Americans work harder and harder and longer and more stressful hours than anyone in the world today. But we seem to like it. Apparently, Americans feel more happy and fulfilled in their offices than they do in their homes. Of course, we all inevitably work too hard, then we get burned out and have to spend the whole weekend in our pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box staring at the TV in a mild coma (which is the opposite of working yes, but not exactly the same thing as enjoyment.)

Ahhh But the Spanish have siestas. Everything closes down at 2 or so and the workers take a long lunch or a nap.
Time to stop, relax, take in the day, lie in the park, and sip coffee.

I admit I am extremely attracted to the pleasures in life. I have never been the ambitious one. I think I could lie on the beach all day enjoying every ray of sun till dark with out a care in the world. But I wonder at this view of life. I wonder what I could say 10 years down the road if life revolved around sheer pleasure. Will i live for more than good lattes and a tan?
Is it merely a matter of balance?(work and pleasure)

Jesus said they he came to earth that we may have life and have it abundantly. So what if our riches are found in a King and a kingdom?

joy.

What happened to sincere joy? I haven’t seen it in somebody’s smile in a long time. It seems that if you have joy that you are tagged ignorant of what’s really going on. Or at least that’s how I feel sometimes. I think it’s quite the opposite. Finding joy in the midst of reality is a gift I want to seek. I have been asking a lot of people what brings them joy and the answers are all very similar.

Pleasure, doing things my way, taking advantage of every moment, learning, music,to be around people that love me, my time, when things go smoothly.

I notice all of these things are about serving ourselves. I like all of these things very much but I wonder if that really is what brings us joy? I wonder what Jesus meant when he said, “ As the Father loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Fathers commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full..."

traveling man.

Truthfully I’m not the best traveler in the world. I know this because I have traveled a lot and met people who are really good at it. I just got back from Amsterdam and met two people in the hostel that were on a voyage around the world. Real Naturals. The people that blend in learn the language and know exactly where to go. I’m more a flamingo than a chameleon. I am trying to learn the language and I usually wander around 90% lost but 100% happy. Still, despite this traveling is a great love of my life. I have always felt, well ever since I was seventeen and went to Russia, that to travel is worth any cost or sacrifice. I am loyal and constant in my love for travel, as I have not always been so loyal and constant in my other loves.

One thing I have developed well is that I can make friends with anybody. That is why I am not afraid to travel to remote places. People asked me before I left for Spain.” Do you have friends in Barcelona?” and I thought no but I will.

And I have. I have met a lot of them by accident, getting lost at the metro, at the ATM, walking to school. The people here are great. I am here with another intern, Aaron. He is the kind of guy that talks to a couple people in the park and then a few hours later you are eating a divine dinner at their pueblo talking about plans to go to Paris together. He is full of wonderful stories and interesting introductions.

Intercambios

I am about to go meet with Silvia at Zurich’s. Silvia is a lovely woman with wonderfully curly hair and a great smile. I met her through an intercambio. She is 33 and she is a fashion designer. Intercambio is a language exchange where you give an hour of English for an hour of Spanish. Usually you meet for coffee or tapas and if you’re gutsy you plan for dinner. It’s kind of like a blind date. I have had good luck so far. Intercambios also speak the best kind of English. The only kind of English you can find in Spain. For example, when I ask about the Internet connection the response is “The internet has fallen down” and when my friend Santi and I were making plans to meet he said “ I will come catch you at nine.”

So far my favorite Spanish word is Urquinaona. It’s name of the metro strop where I go to school. I just love the way it sounds. No one understands why I like it so much. Andre’s favorite English word is fancy. Karol’s favorite word is preposterous.

Spanish.

My classes begin today at Metropol escuela de Espanola where I will be studying Spanish four hours a day five days a week. I’m excited about school. I’m such a shameless student. I laid out my clothes just like I did before my first day of the first grade with my patent leather shoes and my new lunch box. I hope the teacher will like me.

First day of class and its all in Spanish. My teacher is a gorgeous, sassy Spaniard with perfect pronunciation. Her name is Raquel. I am the only Americana in the class and I love that. So many different countries are represented. People speak French, German, Dutch Filipino, Irish English, and British English. I love all these people, automatically and unconditionally.

I am struggling though. I feel like when I was young and I rode around in the car trying to read the billboards listening to my big sister read them wondering if I was ever going to be able to make out this magic code. I haven’t felt so starved for comprehensions since. There is a Spanish bookstore next to my school and on breaks I go in and look at all the books hoping everyone will think I am a native speaker.
I don’t think I’m fooling anyone.