Magic Everywhere.

It has taken me a while to get around to this hasn't it? Well, the days turn into weeks, which turn into months, which turn into almost a year since I wrote here last. I suppose I suspected by now no one is reading this. I was surprised to find that many of you still regularly check my blog, so I will oblige you with a bit of my thoughts.

College has been a wonderful experience so far. Last night a few of my friends and I camped out in the woods together, built a bit of a campfire and read books like Lord of the Rings and Robin Hood. For the first time in months it seemed warm enough to enjoy a decent night in the open. What a mistake! If it hadn't been for the fire I wouldn't have gotten a wink of sleep all night; we took turns watching it and feeding it with branches and the like we found from the forest. I had an odd feeling as I lay there in my blankets, staring up at the dozens of bright white stars and the moon shining through the darkness of the sky. The fire warmed my face and one of my best friends, Peter Scott, read to me about Meriadoc and his love for King Theodin. It was a weird feeling. I couldn't describe it as happiness; it isn't as if I wasn't happy, but happiness was too strong of a word. I didn't feel like laughing or singing or making any noise at all, and I definitely didn't feel like talking.

I felt content.

I felt thankful.

I was reminded that there was indeed so much in the world to be content and thankful for. There always is, whether I'm under the open side in a beautiful glade or curled up in the dorms back at home.

One of the biggest discoveries I've made since being at college is that magic does exist.

I'm not talking about dragons and fairies and elves and the like (though they may exist, who's to say?). Part of what makes these things magical is that they are wonderful creatures that do not truly exist. If they did exist in our world, they would not be considered magic.

There are things in our world that are just as wonderful as these but that we take for granted because they are real, and common, and something we see every day. If fairies were real we would take them for granted in much the same way as we take a butterfly for granted.

Take the firefly. Okay, think about it: there's this bug that goes around shining like a star in the middle of summer. THAT'S magic. that's beautiful. that's amazing, uncommon, wonderful. Birds are miraculous (can you fly?). Deer are much like elves in many ways; graceful, silent, and shy from us. These things are in many ways just as cool as the stories  we tell our children, but we don't call them magic because they exist. We take them for granted instead of recognizing their beauty and mystery for what they are.

I'm not taking them for granted.

Last night I felt magic everywhere. It's magic that the fire is licking up the fagots and crackling and whistling through the night. It's magic that the moon makes its way around the world every day. We live in a magical, wonderful world; everything is a miracle, and even if there is reason as to how they happen that does not mean that they are not miraculous. God made the world a wonderful, magical place, full of odd unnecessary beauties.

Take it in.

Bravery

            I am not a coward. I may not be the bravest man in this world, but I am not a coward. Like any other natural man I preserve myself when the need arises and defend myself when that need arises too. I'm sure that I'm not the only man who has run away from a battle. No matter. I have put that behind me. Today I have proved myself above equal to the occasion of war.

            Let the lieutenant scoff at me to the captain and to whomever he pleases simply because I am his lesser in rank and title! What made him a judge over me? I am his better in zeal. Ask any man today, “who was the best fighter in the battle?” and their long bloody fingers would snap around at William and I. But the lieutenant thought we were cowards, eh? So be it!

            The flag boy was shot down and without hesitation I dashed forward to keep the collars from falling. Who’s a coward now, Mr. Lieutenant? I made myself a target for my bravery, risking my life and limb for the honor of my country. But the lieutenant? “William and David fought like savages.” As if any man in battle, any man who is not ashamed to look at himself in a mirror, did not fight like a savage! For when we are pitted against each other for life, or for death, must we not kill and be killed like savages? Is there any shame in this? Only a man like the lieutenant who sits at the rear of battle and risks the lives of a hundred men does not fight like a savage; he forces other men to fight like savages, and this is both a great shame and the epitome of hypocrisy. I had nothing to be ashamed of today, because I put every ounce of myself into victory.

            Our lieutenant thinks it shameful that we fight so powerfully. Clearly our lieutenant does not understand that purpose of war, though I would not claim that I understand it completely myself. All I know is that today, with a gun in my hand and the enemy swarming by the hundreds before me, nothing could keep me from shooting them out one by one as fast as possible. Let the lieutenant sit back and grumble at us, while we actually fight for his victories. William and I both grinned with satisfaction at our captain’s remark, that if he had a hundred men like us he could finish the war off in a month. It’s the older ones, those who have been at it for years and years and the daily shooting, the daily pain, the daily death of comrades and the daily fear of death for oneself, that has washed out their use in this war.

            William and I aren’t washed out. We will help in this war. Whatever it takes to stay alive and to make it home, we will do.

            We are not cowards.

American Rights

Kelsey has made a good point: I really need to write more often. I'm just enjoying America so much I have nothing to say. I haven't been  thinking clearly enough to write, and I'm also suffering the unfightable writer's block where I'm unsatisfied with everything I put on paper. But I have been noticing some of the rights America's given me that I didn't know were rights before I left.

Youtube: One of the best American rights. I forgot how much junk I was missing out on when it was illegal.

Walking in Public: When I'm not on youtube, walking is very comforting. There aren't tons of people to watch how I walk and stare at my white face.

Shorts: It is SOO nice to be all tangled up in a head-covering all the time, and to dress like it actually is 80 degrees

AC: I have the right not to sweat all the time. Best right of all
 

Writer's Block

 

This is for all writers everywhere of all kinds who have suffered writer's block. Yes, I've had ideas like these.

 

Castle of Ice

I got this from Psalm at Journey's End, a fascinating book about the musicians on the Titanic. Well, this particular story has nothing to do with that but I like it anyways.
The book is fiction but this story really happened.

It is possible to possess people, Gavrik. And it is possible for people to let themselves be possessed. I am now thinking primarily about the serfdom which is a tradition in our country (Russia).
I am thinking of serfdom of the will.
It is said of the Czarina Anna Ivonovna that in the winter of 1739 she had an ice palace built on the frozen Neva. She built it for her own amusement, for the previous year had been hard, the beginnings of disburbances and riots resulting in executions and the razing of whole villages.
The winter of that year was the hardest in the memory of man. The rivers of Europe were frozen for months--the Seine, the Rhine, the Danube, and the Thames. It was said to be so cold in Versailles that bottles of spirits exploded, wine froze in glasses at mealtimes, and in Ukraine birds fell dead from the sky as they tried to fly south.
Czarina Anna Ivanovna was a woman with a distinctive sense of humor. She liked to be entertained by dwarfs, cripples, and imbeciles. Four of her court jesters were members of old noble families with whom she amused herself by humiliating them. One of those jesters, Count Mikhail Golitsyn, became a convert to the Catholic Church, which disturbed the absolute ruler, and as a punishment she made him sit on a basket of eggs in front of everyone and cackle until the chickens hatched.
That iron winter, the Czarina had an ice palace erected on the frozen river--and it was an ice palace such as has never been seen before or since, constructed by the great architect Eropkin, who was condemned to death for treason in 1740. Blocks of ice were cut out of the clearest parts that could be found on the Neva and then welded together with water, which in that sever cold bound the elements together more strongly than any mortar could. The palace rose somewhere between the Admiralty and the Winter Palace. It had balustrades, statuettes, pillars, and furniture all made of ice. It was built by the best artists and craftsmen in the realm, surrounded by nine ice trees with ice birds perched in the ice trees, both trees and birds painted in natural colors. The palace itself was left transparent, apart from the pillars, doors, and window frames, which were painted green to make them look like marble. The windowpanes were made of paper-thin ice. The master craftsmen and their journeymen, the sculptors and building workers all surpassed themselves out on the frozen river, slaving away from the morning to night to satisfy the whims of the Czarina.
Two fabulous beasts and two cannons made of ice flanked the entrance to this magnificent palace, and a full-size ice elephant served as a fountain--water spouting out of its trunk--and the ice cannons were frozen so iron-hard that they could actually fire cannonballs.
The only construction not of frozen water was a wooden fence erected around the palace area to keep the populace at a distance.
The people were delighted with Anna Ivanovna's notion. Crowds also made their way out to the palace at night, when it was illuminated from the inside--it must have been a thrilling, unreal sight, with great octagonal paper lanterns with obscene motifs mounted on two spires at the ends of balustrade, slowly rotating so that all the crowd could enjoy all the pictures.
It was a palace after Anna Ivonovna's own heart, and to complete her notion, she had a bridal couple spend their wedding night inside it.
Who else but Count Mikhail Golitsyn (the one hatching the eggs) was made to marry? The Czarina teasingly ordered him to marry a Kalmuck woman of singular ugliness, one of her lowliest servants. She gave the bride the name of Busyenina, because the Kalmuck woman reminded her of that dish--spiced pork in onion sauce.
The nobleman and Busyenina were duly married, to the resounding hilarity of the Czarina. Then they were clad in furs, took their places in an iron cage on the back of an elephant, and set off at the head of the wedding procession, which otherwise consisted of more married couples--fetched from Anna Ivanovna's realm of subjects, Lapps, Finns, Kirghizes, Bashkirs, and so on, all of them in national costume and swaying on horseback and camels, or in sleighs drawn by reindeer or wolves and boars.
The procession arrived at the ice palace to the great jubilation of thousands of spectators.
In the bedroom was a magnificent four-poster bed--made of ice. The mattress was of ice, the bedclothes of ice, the two pillows of ice, and on each pillow was a nightcap, exquisitely carved of ice.
On the table were the most superb dishes, naturally painted and made of ice. Bottles, forks, plates, mirrors, powder bowls--wherever the couple turned, everything was of ice, even the stove and the firewood inside it.
The newlyweds undressed and went to bed; guards were posted to ensure that everything went as it should. The couple survived, and over the years, Busyenina bore the count two sons.
I think this story provides a beautiful picture of how far one can go if one possesses other people. The story is true, and I have never forgotten it.
But what about those who allow themselves to be possessed?

Best Moments in Life

Things in life that make living worth while:

1. Seeing a middle-aged man smile sentimentally while watching Up. I saw this in the airport a few weeks ago and it made me smile myself. I hope I'll never grow too old to appreciate kid's movies.

2. Watching my 94-year old Great-grandmother steal chocolate and, later on, watch her lick it off her fingers. I hope her spirit is hereditary!

3. Watching a bird sing in the rain. In my own life, I hope I have the courage to do the same.

4. Seeing things grow. We came back to America for the first time in three years, and everyone has changed just a little. Not in bad ways, but they have become more grown up, more complete--they have become better, as I hope I myself have become.

5. Hearing a kid say something you said when you were their age. This has happened to me several times this week, and it makes me smile. What makes me smile even more is having to say back to them a piece of advice some older person gave you when you were little--it makes you feel like you are apart of a cycle of maturity.





 

Graduation pictures

Finally finished with high school. My parents took me to an amazing vacation up to Virginia where I was able to see some old friends and make some new ones--not to mention meet a bunch of people I knew well but had never seen! The joys of online school...

One of my absolutely favorite people. So lucky to call her my friend; I don't think you can meet a cooler person :-)

 

These are some of my fellow graduates and our friend Enoch at the dance. We weren't doing much dancing, can't you tell?





Our attempts at dancing. The dance called for four people; we tried to pull it off with five, then with four with one of us in the middle. It didn't work, so we just stood around watching everyone else dance.

This is the church I graduated at. St. Thomas--ironic, since St. Thomas supposedly went to South Asia :-)

 

My wonderful parents. Can't say they brought me into the world, but they sure made my world livable.

I know they're not all looking at the camera. Try getting thirty people to look at a hundred cameras at the same time. This wasn't all of my graduating class, either; some of them didn't get to come and do this, but I know they deserved it.

No comment.

At the dinner. The picture doesn't capture how much fun we were having.

Two very cool people. One's a violinist, one's a potter/author.

 

One more :-)

Thomas's idea.

A walk through Lancaster; beautiful town.

This picture's so ridiculous I can't say anything.

we've graduated! took us long enough. I think we all kind of look annoyed in this picture...annoyed of High school, probably.

 

Crooked Backs

One of the funniest dialogues I've had this week (and that's saying a lot):

We're sitting at the dinner table, my family, my grandparents Nana and Grandaddy and my great-grandmother, Mima.

Me: Dad, Mima said you were born with a crooked back.
Dad: I was what?
Me: Born with a crooked back. Maybe that's why your back was hurting.
Dad: Don't remember that. (looks at Mom confusedly)
Me: Nana, was Dad born with a crooked back?
Nana: He was what?
Me: Born with a crooked back. Mima said that.
Nana: I don't think so. Mima?

Mima starts to laugh maliciously. If you've ever heard an old person laugh maliciously, it's quite affective.

One Day More

Traveling.
Again.

Today is our last day in this country, and although I KNOW it's our last day I haven't really FELT it. I would have thought it would be a more emotional experience. I'm going to college, I'm an adult now, I'm going to have to get used to crazy Americans and figure out what being a TCK really means. I'm leaving good food, good friends, unique experiences, hard-core reality.
Kind of reminds me of Brave New World, really. I'm like the Savage, and I have no idea what I'm about to get into. But I'll figure it out.
I must remember the truth of the mater, that things won't be as different as I feel like they will be. My whole identity isn't changing, just my position. America isn't Mars; people aren't aliens, and I'm not an alien either.
I think tomorrow, when I land in England and see my grandparents for the first time in months and their son for the first time in years, when I give Myth a big hug and spend the night at her house, the reality will finally have sunk in. No more Urdu, no more fleeting, 'deko, Ungrez!" no more cool clothes and amazing Rickshaws and shocking surprises on the road. I'm going to where cows graze in fields of beautiful grass, not where they graze in garbage heaps. I'm going to where there's more pigeons than falcons, where people wear mini-skirts instead of burkas, where I'm no longer considered an unmarried adult but a wayward, rebellious college student.
And then there's the positive elements, like hair down, no head covering, long walks by myself without a care in the world (Seriously, I can't WAIT to be alone outside for once!). I'll be able to be loud and spontaneous and crazy and no one will think I'm insane (well, at least MOST people won't). No one will stare because I'm fifty shades lighter than anyone nearby. But then I'll get stared at because I'll forget that bus no longer means "cut it out" but actually means a large lumbering vehicle of mass transport. I'll forget that eye-contact with men is no longer totally taboo, but actually what is expected of me. I'll forget that people care about completely different things than the people I've been around for the last three years. I'll forget that people will expect me to be an American, even though I no longer think of myself as one. I'm an Ungrez, a foreign English-speaker, no matter where I live.
I'm tired just thinking about it.

Colossians 3:12-17

Happy seventh day!


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