Good day to you! I wanted to throw up a quick update about my life on here since It's been a while. Lots has gone on in the last two(ish) months, but rather then go through a couple stories, I'd rather just post some bullet points and pictures that might give you a snapshot of where I'm at.
Suffice it to say that I am ready to go home for Christmas. I'm ready to hug my family, roll around on the floor with my dog, drink my mom's eggnog, stay up late with friends, go to the movies with my dad, and play with my nephew. Christmas is beginning to seep into my being - that holly-infused goodness that brings to mind the smell of evergreens and the taste of goodies. And, most importantly, the warmth of being with my family.
What I've been enjoying lately:
Coffee from Old Bisbee roasters. They're out of Bisbee, Arizona, which is my roommate's hometown. Check them out here.
Playing way too much Skyrim, Batman: Arkham City, Halo Reach, and Zelda: Skyward Sword.
Inheritance, the last book in the "Eragon" series.
Smoking cigars with my best friends in my company here at school.
My new flannel that I picked up from Pac Sun on Black Friday.
Scoring better on my APFT (Army Physical Fitness Test) then I ever had before, after majorly struggling with it earlier this year.
What I've been struggling with lately:
Being sick with a bad cold for the last week. I had to take a day off of school to just do nothing. That's a pretty big deal at West Point, especially during a week when a million assignments are due.
Economics and Arabic. Both of these classes have gotten progressively harder throughout the year. I'm thankful that this semester is almost over and that I'm passing in both of these classes.
The struggle of desiring to stay in community with Christians here, but not being fed at the church services that are offered.
Missing home.
Missing the daily conversations with my friends from Boise.
Last week brought a joy and praise that is truly amazing. This weekend has been hard for me.
I think the main thing I've gotten out of it all is this: what I do really doesn't matter. God cares everything about who I am.
Let me back up a bit.
I've worked for Oasis Coffee Co. since October 2008, and I've loved every minute of it. My boss is a fantastic guy, the people I get to meet are awesome, and I've learned a new skill set that I've been able to apply elsewhere. I've learned valuable life lessons and established relationships with people that I wouldn't have even known otherwise.
And on Saturday, out of the blue, I was let go.
I didn't take it well. First came the sobbing as I got in my car. Then, I found myself getting out of my car on the way home and punching a wooden light post while screaming. Didn't enough happen last year? Why this? Why now? These questions, and many, many more were making their way through my head.
I find myself being angry at God.
Why does something shitty like this have to happen out of nowhere? Is this what You do to people? Where's the love? Where's the peace? Where's the grace? Where's all the cutesy "only one pair of footprints because You're carrying me" metaphors now? Talk back God! Where are You?
You cringe, and I fume.
I had a great talk with my boss yesterday. We talked things over, and I understand why I was let go. I have nothing personal against him or the coffee shop. Some things simply weren't working out, and that's that. I'm extremely glad that I had the opportunity to work there and get so much out of it.
Then, I talked with my parents. Man, are they awesome. They both encouraged me, and my dad asked me what I can learn from this.
And now, after two days of processing, there's one main thing I take away from everything. What I do really doesn't matter. God cares everything about who I am. Am I a 10 regardless of whether or not I have a job? Yes.
I really don't get Papa's timing. I have no clue where's He's going with all this; but this I do know: He knows. And I think that security, that God is the same yesterday, today and forever, and that He is the Creator of all things, gives me enough hooah to continue. Several people have told me that God has incredible things in store for me. I believe you, Papa.
And perhaps some of those great things will stem from the result of this announcement:
I've been accepted to the United States Military Academy at West Point! I found out last week, and I am so excited. I've worked so hard for this, and I am so jazzed that it has payed off. More then my hard work, though, Papa's hand has been abundantly clear in the whole process. When I first started asking God about my future and what college I should go to, I prayed something like this:
God, please open the doors for whatever it is you want me to do. If it's not what you want, I don't want a part of it.
This last year, and these experiences lately, have really helped me shift my focus. I find myself praying something closer to this:
Papa, help this experience shape me to who you created me to be. If it's not going to draw us closer, I don't want a part of it.
For me, the difference between these two has been experiences that have hurt. The latter prayer is often prayed with far more questions and yelling, but I have found myself being more real with Papa then I ever was praying the former prayer.
This last week has been a serious bend in the road for me. The first step of many to come in the next 12 years (4 years college, 5 years military, 3 years inactive reserve) has been taken. And, an integral part of my life for the last year-and-a-half has come to a close.
Please join me in praying that the experiences to come bring me closer to Papa.
I was eight years old when the big 2000 came around. At the prompting of my parents, I can faintly remember what I was doing that night the ball dropped, and everyone held their breaths waiting for computers to fail. Throughout the last 10 years, I've counted ahead to the year of my graduation. "2010! Wow, how far away that is!"
The last 10 years have brought new friends, and birthed deeper friendships with those I've had since before I can remember. I've had killer birthday parties, bummer moments, and many great opportunities. Thinking back (as far as I can remember) into the last decade, one thing sticks out in my head above the rest. I've learned to love music.
Growing up, I never understood the point of music. Sure, I was that kid that knew all the oldie songs (thanks to my dad) and could sing "Yellow Submarine" or "Brown Eyed Girl" until something else, just as annoying or catchy, popped into my head. I didn't get the core of music. Part of that probably was due to mere immaturity.
Regardless, I owe my love of music to Lee and Justin Gaupp. They showed me the heart of hardcore, the love behind lyrics, and the symbolism of symphony. Their ever-increasing taste for tunes inspired me to develop a music palette of my own, and it has since grown to include artists from nearly every genre.
Much has happened in my life since that realization. I've grown, and grieved. I've loved, and laughed. Through everything, however, one band has remained close to my heart. Because of their lyrics? Partially. Because of their amazing performances? Incompletely. Because of their heart? Now we're talking.
From Wikipedia:
The band's name is an acronym for "Multi-sensory Aesthetic Experience,"
From their website:
Multi-Sensory Aesthetic Experience
is the study of sensation, perception,
emotion, and meaning in art and music.
Mae started in 2001, released their first album, Destination: Beautiful, in 2003 through Tooth and Nail Records, and have since released a total of six albums- with a seventh on the way, and have taken up the weight of a label all their own, called Cell Records. Their goal is to connect with people, and to do so through all of the senses. Their concerts are an amazing ensemble of music and video synced together to form not only an entertaining show, but an experience that will stick in your mind, make you think, and touch your heart. They are a concrete mix of lighter Alternative Rock to solid Rock. To me, Mae is about more then music, they're about life. I've listened to them during the most depressing days, and during the brightest moments. When I hear a song, it's more than music. It's experiences, individual moments, and memories laced together with the needle and thread of harmony. I can see my past behind me, and I get a glimpse of the future before me. And, most important of all, it helps give me context for where I am now. This year, especially, their albums (m)orning and (a)fternoon have hit me right where I'm at. Life is a journey. I am in process. And Love is the most important thing to hold on to.
Perhaps one of their shirts says it best:
This decade has brought a smile to my face, and tears to my eyes, as has Mae. This decade has helped me realize that growing up is more then watching the years go by. Mae has given me a soundtrack for that realization.
I think that we've got what it takes, to get this heart start beating again.
So take it all the way.
Whoa, whoa.
And our hearts are on The Everglow.
So just let go and fall into it.
May this next decade be prosperous and incredibly real for you. May you grow, change, and draw near to Papa.
And today marks the one year anniversary of Ground Shaking. One year! As I reflect on the many, many posts I've written, I can't help but reminisce. Reading posts from a different stage in my life really gives insight into how far I've come in this last year.
Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for participating in discussion, and for processing ideas and thoughts along side me. Some of you have been around from the very beginning, and some of you are reading this post as your very first. Either way, thank you for being a part of Ground Shaking.
And what of that name? Ground Shaking. A long time ago, I wrote:
'Ground Shaking' is a direct result of what I believe my purpose in life to be. Haha, I know right? That's a pretty intense statement. In all seriousness though, I've put a ton of thought and prayer into this aspect of my life. I've been challenged to think and re-think. Eventually, I was able to land on a one sentence phrase which I believe sums up my purpose. My purpose is to be an earthquake for Christ. I know that as time goes on, how I define my purpose will probably be sanded down and polished. It may even be broken in two and completely re-made. As I stand now, however, this is what I believe my purpose to be.
This year has proven to be both sand paper and polishing rag.
So, how has my definition of 'Ground Shaking' changed in the last year? In a few ways.
I no longer see it as an act necessarily. Being a Ground Shaker doesn't require an action on my part- it's who I am.
My effectiveness as being a Ground Shaker largely depends not on how I appear, or my surroundings. Rather, it depends on my being secure in who I am, and being 100% real in that environment.
Love is an integral part of being a Ground Shaker, and Papa is Love.
Ground Shaking doesn't necessarily mean speaking up because I feel I have to. Many times, it means listening and sincerely asking questions.
On this blog, I've shared my best times, and my worst times. Thank you for your discussion and thoughts as I've continued to develop what being a Ground Shaker means.
It's a process. Life, I mean. I'm in it, your in it, the President is in it, that guy on the corner holding a sign is in it. We're all in process. Just as this first year of my blog has held the best and worst of experiences, I anticipate this next year will hold amazing times, and frustrating periods. My life will, inevitably, change in the next year, and I will have things cross my path that are completely unexpected. What I'm beginning to realize is that all of that is simply a part of the process.
This I do know: Papa is especially fond of me. He loves me how I am, and is excited for who I am becoming. As much as He loves what I am interested in and what I do, He cares so much more for who I am. His love outweighs all the hate in the world, and his peace calms the most fearsome of storms. He is the Alpha and the Omega. He is Love. He is.
The only reason I can have any impact on this world- ANY IMPACT- is because of Him. I am, because He is.
Fascinating how that works.
Am I a Ground Shaker? Yes. And, I am only this because He has created me this way, and loves me how I am.
May this next year of blogging be even more terrific, profound, fun, ridiculous, and full of love.
Thanks for tagging along with me! Here's to a great start of year two!
As I looked back at my blog posts, I realized this is my very first time blogging about Thanksgiving. Very cool, and very interesting.
To be honest, I feel like I don't have much to be thankful for this year. My brother died. My grandma died. If anything, this is the year I probably have the most reason to NOT be thankful for anything.
My family has a tradition at Thanksgiving. We each have a candle clipped on to our plate. One person starts with their candle lit, and they say one thing they are thankful for. They then use their candle to light the candle of the person sitting next to them. This continues until the entire table is ablaze with thankfulness- only then do we begin the meal. In past years I remember wanting to get on with it so that I could taste the beautiful dark meat of the turkey, and the gravy-topped mashed potatoes. When my turn came to say what I was thankful for, I remember saying the normal things: "my family," "my friends," or "a great year" were classics. I wasn't being a selfish kid, I simply was taking for granted everything that should have meant something in my life. Taking for granted the very thing that made the food on the table possible. Ironic.
In many ways I feel like my response to the thankfulness candle this year could simply be "pass." I've got the excuses and the reasons to be sure. In fact, my family as a whole has every reason to give a big resounding "pass" to the question of thankfulness in 2009.
But I don't think that's at all what Thanksgiving is all about. The Pilgrims who originally celebrated Thanksgiving weren't giving thanks for the easy situations, simple problems, and "safety", they were giving thanks for avoided fatalities, survival, and friendship. They were giving thanks for what little they had.
History put aside, can I honestly put on a sour face during Thanksgiving? Can I honestly spit in Papa's face for all the relationships he's given me this year? Can I, in good conscience, go pout in the corner and let every joyful moment of the past year slip my mind? No, I really can't.
Is it true that shitty events have taken place in the life of Colin Mansfield this year? Undoubtedly. And yet, I have so much to be thankful for.
One year anniversary of dating my girlfriend, Kona Estes.
My nephew, Cole, who will be turning two this January.
A dog who, despite losing both of her eyes this year, remains happy as a puppy.
True friends who have incredible senses of humor, will pray with me when I need it, and will tell me to shut the hell up when I need it.
An amazing sister. Words can't describe how much she means to me, and how much closer we've gotten this year.
A real relationship with Papa. I used to know him as my God. Now he's more, he's my daddy.
The realization of what Love is. And who Love is.
This is in no way a complete list, or even the start of one.
I really do have loads to be thankful for. And, like the Pilgrims, much of it has come through looking through the lense of loss.
This year, when I get the candle passed to me, I won't have to say pass. Nor will I feel inclined to say any old thing because the turkey is calling my name. This year, I'll be able to speak with the knowledge that I have so much to be thankful for.
Today was a whirlwind of the best kind. Right now I'm on the East Coast with my dad, and let me tell you it's been a blast!
We flew into DC last night and immeadiatly went to the White House and Capitol building...at 1:30am! It was an awesome experience to be sure. After done with our late night adventure, we took the 45min drive to Annapolis and stayed at the Holiday Inn Express. A great start.
Today was awesome. I've never done anything like it before; seen so many tourist and classic American spots in one day! Starting on Annapolis, we grabbed bfast at Carrol's then headed over to the Naval Academy to look around, and, as a Go Army family, urinate on the parade grounds. Ok, maybe we didn't :) all the same, USNA was a cool sight to see and place to experience. After visiting the gift shop, it was back in the car.
East Coast countryside is beautiful to drive past. Brilliant trees, ground moist from fall drizzle, beautiful sky. But Philly is a whole other world.
If you were to take New York City, give it a traditional feel, get rid of the huge buildings, and make the people have REAL attitude, you'd get Philly. Let's just for comparing them to NY I'd probably get shot. So, we did the rounds. Cheese Steak at Jim's was the biggest must-have, so we went there first. I got a steak sandwich with whiz and onions, and it totally hit the spot. :) something beautiful about eating Philly Cheese Steak...in Philly! Also, we got to see the bar featured in the movie 'Invincible' (pictured).
And now, back in the car, we're headed to West Point in NY! Tomorrow will consist of Touring USMA, then heading into NYC for some Little Italy goodness.
This has been so amazing! I totally can't wait for the days to come! We'll be headed back through Philly to sight see, then to DC for some touring before heading back home. If ya want to follow my trip, head over to http://Twitter.com/ColinMansfield
This is a story I wrote for an English paper. I really liked the way it turned out, and thought I would share it! Don't mind the underlined words, they were a requirement for the class. Also, don't mind the font changes. Word doesn't like copy & paste. :)
This story revolves around the events of one day in the life of one such barista. This coffee shop which Mike works in, tells a thousand stories of life, love, passion, peace, conversation, and people. This is the climax of all these things in Mike’s life; all brought about because one girl walked into the shop on a sunny afternoon in October, not too long ago. Mike purposefully reached down and pushed the doors open. Since he should probably unlock them before attempting to apply any further force, he grabbed his keys, put them in the lock, and opened the door. Making his way across the dark room, he reached the light switch and flipped it. In their typical half hazard fashion, the dreary-dust-colored lights sprung to life. Mike shrugged the backpack he had been carrying off, as he grabbed it with his free hand, then violently threw it into the employee’s closet with unnecessary force. Reluctantly moving to his spot behind the counter, he started the typical morning activities.
After working so long in the coffee business, all five years he’d been in college, Mike had grown generally numb to the typical tasks of the day. Initially the job held awe and wonder for a fresh-out-of-high-school student. He had mastered the various parts of creating the perfect cup of black bean juice quick enough. It didn’t even take him that long to learn all the regular’s names and drinks. Yet, after so many years of doing the same thing, Mike was tired. Grabbing the house coffee thermos, he put it under the drip machine. Then, grabbing a filter, he slid out the hatch on the drip machine where he would insert the grinds. Throwing the filter into the contraption, he slid it under the coffee grinder, then turned the grind switch to the ‘on’ position. Crunched between their mighty slices, the blades immediately began to grrrriind the coffee beans. Mike stepped back and looked at the room. Same dusty colored walls, same old couches, same sticky counters. Click. The coffee stopped grinding. Mike grabbed the drip contraption and, sliding it from the coffee grinder, he inserted it back into the mighty drip machine. Grabbing a pitcher, he poured the right amount of water into the hatch which was located above the coffee grinds. The machine began brewing the coffee on its own accord; Mike waited for the first drips of the medium house blend, then moved the coffee thermos so that the drips fell into its depths. In this same manner, Mike went about preparing the shop in the tediously detailed ways only a barista can. Shari, his coworker for the day, showed up right before the first customer. Mike had never really liked people who ordered coffee. “Now don’t get me wrong,” he would say to his friends, “I love making coffee. It’s the people that kill me! They’re so snobbish and stuck up. It’s like being a limo driver- people don’t really want to see you, because they just want what you have to offer. On top of that, you get to drive around in a limo all day but never actually get to experience the limo. ”
As the first customer approached, Mike shot out a “Good morning! What can I get for ya?”
The man replied, “Uh, yeah hi. I’d like a quad Americano with about a half inch of cream and two Splenda.”
At this, Mike would normally respond with a Sure thing, but decided to switch it up a bit today. What’d he have to lose?
“Do you want me to throw a couple extra shots in that for ya, or will four do it?”
The man looked at Mike, rolled his eyes, and didn’t respond.
“Right, quad Americano coming up.”
After the man left, Mike checked his tip jar. Despite his antics, the guy had still tipped $.75. Not bad. Mike’s favorite was when some idiot would tip three cents after a perfectly normal interaction. Being a barista, Mike understood that the biggest insult wasn’t not tipping, it was tipping an incredibly low amount. Favorably for him, the man had avoided a sin which was unforgivable in most coffee circles. At least he wasn’t a complete moron.
Mike often described his life in shades of sepia. “How was your day?” People would ask him. “Oh, it was fine.” would be his response, without hesitation, and almost without fail. Although not completely in unrest, Mike was lukewarm. He was flimsy in regards to just about anything you can think of. His opinions were wet noodles. The only thing he knew for sure was that he liked making coffee. This shop, what with its bustle of senses made him feel like he had his life in order. All he had to do was down an espresso shot, and look around the room. The coffee, which was thick on his palette, reminded him of the unsuccessful pick up lines the guy in the back was using on the lady he sat next to. The smell of the coffee in the air mixing with assorted pastries smelled almost as good as that lady’s perfume who just walked by. The smooth middle of the shot on his central tongue was as solid as the man’s intellect in the corner; you could almost feel the paper between his fingers as he turned the page in the latest novel he was devouring. The grand finale of the coffee, with its aromatic and fruity finish, reminded him of the hordes of people who brought their laptops throughout the day: typing, typing typing, as if they were taking notes on a subject they just knew they were going to fail the test on. Honestly, Mike enjoyed the bustle of the day because it kept him from seeing his own life, from having to deal with his own issues. Mike was living in a state of apathy.
When noon rolled around, Mike, who decided not to take his customary lunch break to Zen Bento stayed and took advantage of the employee discount on parmesan bagels. This act alone would forever change Mike’s life, for just as he would be leaving the store a young woman walked into the shop. Peering around the room, she looked Mike directly in the eyes. Down the middle of the coffee shop, she walked, never breaking the glance, straight to the ordering counter. Like a mythological siren. “I got this one,” Mike said to Shari. Then, to the girl, “Can I help you?”
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Sam pushed the doors of the coffee shop open. She stopped at the entrance, and looked around the room. Beautifully colored walls, a rich cream color with dark oak crown molding. Giving off a beautiful golden hue, the lights seemed inviting and calm. Even the floor, a shining bullion color, seemed to radiate peace and happiness. Sam walked in, completely stoked to grab a cup of coffee from such a quaint shop. Looking towards the register, her eyes met those of a dark haired man. He wasn’t entirely handsome, and yet had something mysterious about him. This was someone who had gone through much in his life. This was someone with a story, a past. This was someone who, given enough time, could be your best friend, someone’s ultimate safe house of confidence. This guy, given the right circumstances, would build a wonderful life with wonderful people to support him. By the time all this had gone through Sam’s head she was already at the register. She saw the brown-haired guy whisper something to the other girl behind the counter, while standing there. Then,
“Can I help you?”
“I’d sure hope so!” was all she could think to say. “I mean, you’re the barista and everything. I’ll never be able to make coffee like you!” Why was she stumbling over her words?
“Ok…” said the man, “Well then, what can I get for ya?”
“I’m not entirely sure. What’s good?”
“Pretty much everything. You partial to anything in particular?”
“I like my coffee like I like my men. Rich and black.” Oh man, the joke slipped out.
He chuckled, then straightened back up as if she hadn’t said anything.
“Just finished brewing the house blend. You want some?”
“Sounds as good as anything. Could you leave some room for cream?”
“Sure thing.”
---------------------
Rich and black? Really? Wow.
Mike liked this girl- mostly because she seemed like the type of person who would be easy to talk to. Probably the type of person who always had a tight group of friends in high school. The type of person, although exactly opposite from him, someone he would like to relate to. As he turned back around, she asked a question that caught him completely off guard.
---------------------
“Are you happy?”
Sam said the words before she even thought about their implications.
“Excuse me?”
“Happy. Are you happy?”
Quickly reacting, he said “I guess so.” Then smiled, “I get to make coffee all day- who wouldn’t want that, right?” No sarcasm, but a definite undertone of spite.
“Yeah, I see what you mean. How about this, what is it that you love doing?”
“Love?” responded Mike.
“Yeah, love. You know, opposite of hate. Overused word too many guys whisper into the ears of high school sweet hearts. Love.”
Both chuckled at this.
“I guess I’ve never really thought about it.” Said Mike, “love is one of those things that’s always been ambiguous to me. I guess my life has been a series of moment-by-moment decisions.”
“So you’ve never considered love in your thinking process?” asked Sam.
“I guess not, no.” responded Mike.
“Give it a shot sometime. You might find you like it.” Sam winked, then turned away, coffee in hand.
---------------------
The conversation had been odd. Deep, to be sure, if not a bit awkward. He had grabbed her a cup of the house coffee, tossed in the cream, all without even paying attention to his actions. His mind had been fully engaged in her questions; in her. How was it one girl had captured his attention so suddenly? And yet it wasn’t truly her, although her sandy hair and blue eyes definitely played into it, it was her questions. Who talked about happiness? Love? Were these things to discuss over a mere purchase of a house coffee? As she turned away, he noticed she left her money on the counter to pay for the drink. When he looked up, she was halfway to the door. Gliding, like an angel. “An angel? Yeah, an angel” thought Mike. Straightening his posture, he darted around the counter, lungs bringing in the coffee-laden air in quick intakes. Suddenly, he could feel the sticky mixture of sweat and coffee grounds on his fingertips- he smelled like all-purpose cleaner, he just knew it. Why so self conscious all of a sudden? Moving with a purpose, yet not totally sure what that was, he caught up with Sam when they were three-quarters the way to the front door. She turned.
---------------------
There he was, standing in front of her. Why? Breathing heavier then was necessary, smelling like all-purpose cleaner, and jeans smudged with coffee. But there he was. Moments ago she had shared the gift of thought with this man. He was in process, but then again, wasn’t she?
“I’ve never really done this before.” He stalled.
“Approached a complete stranger after they bought coffee from you?” Sam asked.
He laughed, less awkwardly then before.
“That, or asked that complete stranger out before. Not like a date, but just like, like a conversation between friends.” Mike responded.
She paused. A million thoughts rapidly rushed through her mind. In the end, wasn’t this just another son of Adam who was scrambling to find out his place in the world? A child of Him, wanting to be loved. Because of this simple fact, wasn’t he just like her?
“I’d like that.” Sam said. Then, “Over a cup of coffee?” She winked again.
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And so a meeting of two people ended in friendship. Over time the coffee shop would witness this friendship metamorphosis into a deeper relationship. Over many more discussions and jokes, this relationship would hatch into full blown love. The coffee shop remained as it always had been, stationary. The smell of freshly roasted beans, caramel-colored espresso shots being pulled, and the sweet aroma of mixing syrups. The same sounds: coffee grinding, an ice machine groaning, conversations of people mixing into a wonderful harmony of oration, milk steamers purring and creating frothy blankets which sat on lakes of cream. The sights remained the same: laughing couples, electric outlets in constant use, a teen with earbuds drowning out the world, coffee cups in every hand. The air even felt and tasted the same- a velvet and thick coffee undertone in every breath. And yet, within this stationary object, a relationship gave birth to two people in love. A daughter of Eve, and a son of Adam, joined in that same union which is meant for everyone with the Creator. Finally, through this story, one of the greatest mysteries of all time is brought to light: how is it that in such a broken world of sepia tones and lukewarm emotions, something as pure and faultless as love can exist? How is it that the simple act of caring, of showing love, can mend hearts together? And how is it that when hearts get mended, love is multiplied? Finding the answers to these questions is done only through experiencing that Love, that Happiness.
Mike would say it all starts with one decision to not eat out at lunch break. His wife, Sam, and their two kids would have to agree.
Sometimes I want to write, my brain it stops, tries to fight, poetry simply won't come out, So I sit and look into the night.
Sometimes I try to be witty, To be honest, it's pretty shitty, The jokes simply aren't clever, Like 'what's a small cat?' It's a kitty.
Once, I tried to be strong, It wasn't right, actually quite wrong, I was weaker then when I started, But my ego was twice as long,
I've tried to become smarter, Focusing on that makes it harder, I ended up giving up, Totally made me feel like an unholy martyr.
Every now and again, I try to be hip, I end up looking like Kip. Yeah, from Napoleon Dynamite, So I took that bud, and gave it a quick nip.
So many things I've tried to do, In the end, they're all doo-doo, Trying, trying, never being, Being me. Just being Lue.
So often I find myself "trying" to be better, to do things that somehow will increase my worth as a person. Stopping and simply being gives me a refresher that it really doesn't matter what I do, especially what I 'try' to do; it really just matters who I am.
And I am a peaceful, free, and stupendous man. Hey, that kind of rhymed :) Colin
I realize this is a little late, but here's a vlog I recorded a couple days back while at work. It's my musings about getting back to school. Just some thoughts over coffee, nothing too heavy, too deep.
I'll do another one about how school actually has been, but for now, enjoy!
Beauty has a way of grabbing my attention. A recent memory that sticks out in my mind happened just a few weeks ago. I was driving home to Idaho from California. My dad was asleep in the back (he had been the main pilot all morning) and I had taken over the wheel in his stead. In the passenger seat sat my girlfriend, Kona. We kept each other entertained by playing various types of music and having even more various conversations. At one point in our discussions I looked over to my left for a split second. What I saw completely and utterly consumed me. A small mountain stood about 4 football fields away, and above this mountain were broken clouds; like shattered glass the sun peaked through and was reflected off of the clouds onto the face of the mountain resulting in one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. My attention was completely taken over by this magnificent light show. Coupled with the most amazing girl in the world sitting by me and talking, this memory sticks out in my brain as being one of sheer beauty. Beauty has a way of grabbing my attention.
So does music. My favorite songs are ones which can only be described as epic. Two bands which write epics extremely well, in my opinion, are Anberlin and Mae. I'm gonna talk about Mae, but please do look up Fin and Miserable Visu by Anberlin. One of my favorite songs by Mae is called "The Fisherman's Song". To me it so accurately portrays the heart of the writer, and I love the message. On top of that, the lyrics are written in story form which help me connect immensely. Listen here. I am an incredibly visual person, and yet I couldn't imagine life without music. As I write this I'm listening to my "Sit Down and Relax" playlist on Pandora. I've found it a great way to connect with myself today.
I was apprehensive about going to see "500 Days of Summer" with my parents and our close friends tonight. I didn't really know what to expect, but I figured a free movie is always worth it. I suppose I was right. That being said, I would gladly pay extra to see this masterpiece. It really connected with where my mind has been the last few weeks; connections.
People. Music. Situations. Friends. Jobs. Movies. Life.
Thinking about all the connections baffles me. It's not really a matter of fate or predestination to me (the way I figure it, God knows everything no matter what I believe.) Really, to me what it comes down to is whether or not I want to acknowledge the connections. Fate? Chance? Phooey. If life were a slot machine I would hate to pull that lever. It's like people are totally willing to acknowledge all the Cherries or BARS lining up perfectly but refuse to instead see the beautiful constelation of life that all our intercrossing lines make. Life is actually a whole lot safer to look at as a slot machine. Pull the lever; you win some, you lose some. Often it's a whole lot harder to take those losses as building blocks, or at the very least see that they've made me who I am today.
500 Days of Summer emphasized this point for me. No matter what I tell myself, life really holds no accidents. The movie is artsy, beautiful, saddening, vulgar (at times), and flat-out well written. Unlike many chick flicks, this story follows the guy. Also unlike many chick flicks, it holds no happy Hollywood ending. The trailer boasts "this is a story of boy meets girl," and also includes "you should know upfront, that this is not a love story." That's why I don't believe 500 Days of Summer is a chick flick at all. It's too big for that label. It's an epic.
But don't take my word for it. Watch the trailer. Then, go watch the movie.
Everything is dark, silent. Mist and fog cover any source of illumination. Shadows fall on shadows, and all color is kept at bay. A breeze blows, and one is reminded of times when that same breeze wrapped and played with their hair on a spring day...but no more. Now this wind is frost biting and gnaws at exposed flesh. Forced to pull their layered coats and jackets closer to their body, one ponders how and why they got there. It's as though the darkness came on its own accord, uninvited, unexpected, unbelieved. Then, something happens. The horizon sparkles, and some gray turns to orange. All of a sudden, mist is burned up, and fog melts away. A warm beam of light makes its way to the shivering body, while also in hot pursuit of that quickly fleeing icy breeze. Jackets are shed, flip flops are put on, and frowns are turned upside down. What is this welcome visitor that brings back the chirping of birds?
A new day.
In many ways I feel like this summer has in some way or another birthed a new day in my life. I'm not sure exactly how to form this feeling into words, but I'll do my best. These last months have proven to be the hardest in my life. Grief and pain are not enemies to be underestimated. The deaths of my brother and my grandma sent me in a tailspin, one which I am still only barely coming out of. I write today not to say that I am "back to normal" or that I've "dealt with everything." Rather, I write because I believe I have begun to change.
I'm ready for my senior year. I'm ready to make the most out of my last year in High School. But more then ready, I'm pumped. I feel like I'm on an edge, on a precipice, of something much much larger: and it excites me. I also feel like the contrast of these last months of darkness and death, and this new chapter of my life is what makes me excited. I appreciate the light so much more after being in darkness. Not to say I don't have my dark days, my dark times. Those are still frequent. But just glimpses of light are enough to make me excited, and it's great!
So, after a summer of West Point, Spain, France, Italy, and California, I'm so ready to appreciate the light of my senior year. Please pray with me as I go into this year locked and loaded. What's next Papa?
I don't have much time, as I need to hit the sack ASAP (6am flight, 4am wake up). These last two weeks have produced amazing friends, renewed relationships with family, and awesome experiences! It has been a trip to remember.
That being said, below are some pics from today: my last day in NY!
Feel free to follow my journey tomorrow at http://twitter.com/ColinMansfid
This past week I've been with my aunt and her family in Buffalo, NY. They go to a quant Baptist Church, and when I first walked in the door on Sunday to attend service one thought went through my head: "I'm not in Kansas anymore." The service went about as expected. Sunday school was decently thought provoking, worship was less then engaging (hymns) and the overall message was pretty good. My post today has nothing to do with this church or the way it is run. Rather, I want to bring up the topic of denominations.
My observation of church denominations is that they don't work.
I think denominations are started by people who think of the church (building) rather then the church (people). This goes back to the whole issue of relationship. Is the goal of church to teach certain things, have a message, then go home to watch football? Actually, football may be closer to the actual purpose of church. I believe the purpose of church is to bring believers in Christ together as one body to worship Him, and to encourage each other. A "Sunday message" may or may not be ideal for this purpose, and the same for for worship and Sunday school, etc.
What if the "rules" of Church (denominations, common practice, tradition) simply don't work. Where would that leave us? What if what we call "church" is but a shadow of what God wants the Church to be?
What about you? What do you think? Is church necesary? Is it mandated? Is it working?
Life is a journey, isn't it? Every day, a new step in some direction; every moment a choice that affects life. Many times I get caught up in the bigness of life: future, future, future. Where am I going, what is my career going to be, what's my time frame for (insert important goal). but what about today's journey? Where have I been today, who have I related with, and how has this influenced me?
So, without further ado: today's journey (as told through uncaptioned photos)
Colin PS that last pic is a welt from a paintball game I played today. It drew blood.
