Things have been pretty serious around here. This is not. Enjoy!
I love the juxtaposition of these two videos. From 7 billion to 1.
So often, I am told to believe in something, whether it is the power of a certain brand or the image of reality portrayed by my favourite movie, politician, religious leader or news station. Life seems to become a struggle of belief, of trying to force myself to have faith in something, and feeling guilty
Before I get to Colombia, I’ll spend a week in Nicaragua for orientation to MCC. Our Father Who Drowns the Birds In memory of Nicaraguans killed by the Contras, 1980-1990. By Barbara Kingsolver There is a season when all wars end: when the rains come. When the landscape opens its own eyes and laughs at
I’ve been listening to some very interesting BBC radio podcasts on climate. Written and produced by David Livingstone, they explore the way culture and societies have interacted and thought about climate. For example, did you know that many people consider that the infamous Salem witch hunts took place because of adverse weather? The way we
Traveling Light by Linda Pastan I’m only leaving you for a handful of days, but it feels as though I’ll be gone forever— the way the door closes behind me with such solidity, the way my suitcase carries everything I’d need for an eternity of traveling light. I’ve left my hotel number on your desk,
Back to the theme of fun, I love Al Jazeera. There coverage of the Arab uprising has been amazing! I could (and do) spend a lot of time watching and reading news commentary. It often raises comments and questions about politics and current events that more western centric media fails to examine. For example, here’s
So, my question for the universe. What is fun? What do you do for fun? I’m trying to figure out what I like post-university. However, someone very wise said to me today that you are the same person, just with more stuff in your head. Still, what was fun before that? And, to top it
Go Greyhound by Bob Hicok A few hours after Des Moines the toilet overflowed. This wasn’t the adventure it sounds. I sat with a man whose tattoos weighed more than I did. He played Hendrix on mouth guitar. His Electric Ladyland lips weren’t fast enough and if pitch and melody are the rudiments of music,