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StaciJoy
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Name: Staci
Country: United States
State: California
Metro: Ventura
Birthday: 7/27/1980
Gender: Female
Interests: Deeper intimacy with my lover, further awakening for me and others, integrated living. PEOPLE! Books (oh, so many! -- Keating, Jane Eyre, T.S. Eliot, A Severe Mercy, Lewis' space trilogy, Donald Miller) coffee, conversations, the beach, and more of the "normal" stuff. Amateur photography, spatterings of writing, traveling, and my awesome cat!
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
5/15/2005
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| Maybe it's the nexus you've been waiting for.
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| I may use the space in this post as a bit of a life update since I don’t normally write on such mundane topics. But some of you out there are actually desiring basic facts, so this post is dedicated to those 3 people or so :)
The sun shines down on me today, Wednesday, finding me with a bit of a headache but a strange and welcome lightness inside (mostly attributed to Ansus Berkana’s new song that I just heard today). The words from “Whatever You Want” by Ansus Berkana, “You’re wasting time with your feet on the ground” are echoing through my thoughts. I feel inspired to waste very little time from here on out, and the last few weeks show testimony to my current conviction.
Almost two weeks ago, my sister and I boarded a plane and took off for New York. We stayed with lovely people in an apartment in Manhattan and enjoyed exploring as much of the city as we could in 2.5 days. The first night we bundled up and ventured into SoHo, Chinatown and Little Italy. We ate our first slice of crunchy, cheesy NY pizza in Little Italy, admired the dead fish on display in Chinatown, wandered through the grand opening of an art show while sipping free wine, and stumbled back to the apartment cold but excited for the next two days. On Sunday we had the most amazing mochas from the chocolate factory/store of Jacque Torres, ran through most of the Met, ate more pizza, strolled through an icy Central Park, bought long underwear and another down jacket from Macy’s (it was SOOOOOOO cold!), set my eyes on Times Square for the first time, and ate at Chevy’s in commemoration of my sister’s dog who shares the same name. Monday brought even colder temperatures (8 degrees F, but the news said it would feel like -8 with the wind chill!!!), a ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, a visit to Ground Zero, and one more foray out to Times Square before tucking ourselves into our chilly beds and rising for an early flight to Orlando.
New York was stellar, but I must say, it was quite enjoyable to step off the plane in Orlando and feel the sunshine and the mild humidity. My sister spent the first few days with a friend while I assisted my team in the creation, birth and sustained life of Humana 2.0, a conference hosted in Orlando. Pictures will follow the text, if not in this one, then soon (I’m at work right now and the children’s nap time is drawing to a close, thus the minutes allotted to writing are numbered!). Humana exceeded all expectations! It ran seamlessly, and united many heroes in joint cause to save the universe. I’m very proud of those I served alongside and I loved seeing so many familiar faces!
I hear a little voice repetitively calling my name from the upstairs region, so I should wrap this up. More soon, and much love to all my dear friends I saw in Orlando, and also to those who read this who are called to other geographical extremities (yes, I’m talking to you John and Bran and Meg!). | | |
| “Hey white people! Hey, people! Hey, HEY!!!” The call was repeated until we had walked well past the group. I almost felt like a celebrity for a second, tapping a quick rhythm with my feet as I hurried along the sidewalk, until I remembered where I was. 5th and S. San Pedro. Downtown. Skid Row. The sun was quickly falling behind the tall buildings and a chilly wind was sweeping through the alleys. We hurried to reach the safety of the mission lest we were caught outside with the locals in the lengthening shadows.
Some friends and I spent the day at the Union Rescue Mission in Los Angeles. It is the country’s oldest mission, currently housing between 300-350 temporary “guests” each night, and another couple hundred spread throughout their various programs. They provide three meals a day, an estimated 2300 plates distributed daily. Many of the same faces return day after day, meal after meal. Children. Elderly. Sick. Proud. Clean. Insolent. Crazy. Each face has a story, with details that are incomprehensible to orderly suburban minds. Each heart beats with pain that isn’t healed with a plate of food.
Five little fingers, stretched wide, reached for my yellow folder. She ran up to me when we momentarily crossed from the mission into the alley. I touched her tiny palm and smiled at her, but that wasn’t enough. She insisted on procuring my bright visitor’s packet, so I opened it up and gave her the business card. The smile I got in return made my eyes burn with moisture. Innocence and heavenly enchantment were made immortal in that brief exchange. Her face is unforgettable.
What can be done for the wide-eyed children of our broken world? It was not their doing that put them on the street, but the folly of another. I echo Jenna’s (jennamartin.voxtropolis.com) words... these people are fighting for their lives, and they need more than our mere sympathy. It’s time to act. | | |
| Today my body is sick. My head is heavy, my limbs are floating through jell-o, everything aches, and my throat is swollen. Ouch. Today my heart is crushed and angry. I have been healthy for a record three months and I had a growing suspicion that I had reached an immortal status, or at least a strong defense against the remote possibility of contracting malignant germs. I’m not that annoyed at the actual sickness raging through my achy flesh; I’m vexed because my body isn’t the blooming picture of health and a strong immune system like I thought it was. My application for Good Health Super Hero status has been denied. Perhaps death will come soon… (is that melodramatic enough  ?) | | |
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