The Academy and The Score

Ah, what a few weeks it has been. After waiting three weeks to get my LSAT score back I finally got it, and happily I found that I didn’t do terribly. Turns out I got a 155, which really isn’t as good as I wanted to do, but about as good as I deserved given my relatively short period of studying. But the great thing is that its over, this dark cloud of a thing is gone and can rain on someone else. Hooray. Another great opportunity that came recently into my life was an ASU sponsored trip to West Point Military Academy in New York for a conference on ethics. The invitation came as a surprise to me, and I had to compete against 18 others in an essay-writing contest for the spot, but eventually I got the nod and was on my way to New York for some time with America’s future military leaders. The conference was great, I lived with one of the cadets in one of the barracks in the heart of West Point, which looks just like a giant castle. The amount of discipline in their lives is really incredible to see, as I had the pleasure of waking up with them at 6am to the sound of “reveille” being played on the trumpet outside our window. From there, almost their entire days were planned out, minute-by-minute, with very little time for fun. Needless to say, it was a bit different than my life. Every freshman called me “sir,” which was nice, and we all ate at the same time in a giant 4,000 person dining hall which seemed to be straight from a Harry Potter movie. During the day I attended seminars and talked about everything from economics to business to philanthropy. We heard from military generals, news correspondents, and professional mountain climbers. It really was a good time. Oh, and on a side note, I made a fool of myself in front of ABC news’ Chief White House Correspondent, which wasn’t one of my better moments I will admit.

I suppose what I will most take away from that conference, other than the ideas and good debate that was had, will be the cadets I met at the Academy. Each of the people I got to know well are in their senior year, and each of them will be serving for 15 months as an officer in Iraq within the year. It was riveting to talk with them about how they feel about going to war, about commanding men, and about our country and their duty. It was interesting for me to learn that the most requested position within the cadets at West Point is that of infantryman. When I asked why, my roommate simply shrugged and told me that he and his fellow cadets wanted to prove to themselves that they had what it took, that they could fight for a cause that they didn’t necessarily believe in. Wow, I thought to myself. I told him that I didn’t know how anyone could deal with that amount of pressure, and he just shrugged again and went back to reading his book. So I am glad that there are people who are braver than me, who feel called to serve in hostile places, even if they can’t articulate just why.

So in short, life is good, I am almost out of college, which isn’t my favorite place to be, but I look forward to seeing what will happen next in my unpredictable life.

The day before

Today is the day before the big day, which makes today the day that I hate almost as much as I will hate tomorrow. In a way I dread it and in a way I look forward to it, like the way a man who knows he will be sentenced by a jury just wants to hear the verdict, to get it over with, whether the outcome is favorable or not. Enough waiting, the day of reckoning is here. Ok, maybe I shouldn’t be so dramatic, “reckoning” is a bit much, but still I feel like I am sitting in a courtroom waiting to hear the jury’s verdict, to have them tell me whether or not I add up.

Its ridiculous, I know, to place my worth into a standardized test, to somehow associate my ego with how well I do or don’t do on this thing. I can’t tell you how many times I have told myself that. Either way I am still me, still flesh, bone, spirit. But there is something in me, some subtle beast of a thing that whispers quietly in my ear lies and deceit. Its as if part of me wants to fail just to prove its false point. I find that you can shout truth all you want and not quiet that small voice that whispers lies. But that’s what they are, lies, and I have power over them.

I have spent the better part of the last two and a half months studying for this thing. Countless hours denied to my friends, family, and girlfriend and instead devoted to a test. A stupid test. I don’t mean to sound like I am complaining, I have no problem with working hard for something, in fact, I have enjoyed some aspects of this study because it has forced me to work harder for something that I have done in recent memory. I only say this because I want so badly for it all to pay off. But that’s not my call to make, its God’s, and it is all in his hands now. My future will always be with God, not myself, and I trust him with that. Am I scared? Yeah, terrified. But in 24 hours this thing will be done and I can move on to greener pastures. So glory to God, not to me. Whatever happens I want it to be his will. He has taken me this far, and he will be faithful to take me the rest of the way toward whatever destiny awaits me.

Summer gone

I’m not sure how to begin, or how to end for that matter. I feel like I am saying goodbye to an old friend. How to move on from this summer, it really is like saying goodbye to a wise old friend, one who has been there for me, whispering wisdom in my ear for the last few months. But I will start with this: I am convinced that everything I have seen and everywhere I have been and everyone I have met has in some way been a reflection of God. And if God is in these things than God must be good. It’s quite beautiful when I think about it really. I have thought long and hard and there really is no other way of understanding or quantifying the travel, people, and places that have been this summer, and the overwhelming goodness of people that I have borne witness to.

A quick, or not so quick, recap. (There really is something therapeutic about this for me).

In Boston I met all kinds of people from all over the world, all of them in some way just like me. And I was blessed to be able to talk with them and discover what their lives were like and how different yet similar we were. I was able to see quickly the depth of my ethnocentricity, and quickly it was impressed upon me that this summer was not about me, it wasn’t about my story as much as it was about a story being told to me. I learned a lot about economic theory and practice, and about libertarianism and government theory and how far from perfect the world is. I learned that fun is not something that only Americans understand, I rode around the entire city on a bike in a toga, I laughed a lot, I thought a lot, then I thought some more. I also saw first hand how smart some people are, and I realize that I may never achieve the intellectual prowess of some of these people but I am really glad that these people exist, that a lot of people know a lot more than me. I made three really great friends in Boston, one of whom was kind enough to let us stay in her apartment near Harvard for a few days while we saw and did everything there was to do in Boston. (My friend, though she may refute this, is one of the smartest people I know, she is one of those people who is so smart and has such a love of people that it blows my mind.) And there was one night that we sat on the steps of this church that is on Harvard’s campus, and we talked late into the night about all kinds of things as the stars above sang and danced, and it was all so perfect and lovely and it was easy to get the feeling that maybe this was what life was ultimately about. Experiencing people, experiencing life, experiencing God.

As I continued my journey to New York City I began to embrace the kind of freedom that comes with solo travel, that is, going and doing whatever you want whenever you want. I have to tell you, for someone whose life ordinarily revolves around a schedule, it was heaven. There I stayed with one of the kindest most generous families I know, and had a lot of great conversations with my cousin and my friend Patrick the freelance photographer. Patrick moved to NY a couple of years ago and literally lives paycheck to paycheck, hoping and praying that he will be provided with enough work to pay the rent in his apartment. But I have to tell you, he is one of the happiest, most fulfilled guys I know. Just talking with him was encouraging. He loves what he does, and, though things are sometimes hard, he wouldn’t trade his job for anything. For him there is something in the uncertainty, in the good times and the hard times, that he has grown comfortable with, almost in love with. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Moving on was hard by this time, as I had grown to resent all the goodbye’s I was constantly forced to give. But I did leave, hard as it was, and moved on to meet my family at our 110 year old cabin in upstate NY. I have to tell you, I can’t think of any place more serene, quiet, and perfect. The cabin is on a three-mile lake in the mountains, and the word beautiful doesn’t do it justice, not by a long shot. I came here as a kid almost every summer, and the place is filled with memories and beauty as far as the eye can see. It was the perfect place to hang for a few days and collect my thoughts, reflect on what the last few weeks had held. Each morning I would paddle out in our wooden canoe and chase the loons and fog across the silent water, hearing nothing but the sound of my paddle breaking the water’s surface. This place held a kind of peace that most only read about in books.

As this may be a bit longer, I will postpone the rest of this reflection until another date, but, in the meantime, here are some of my favorite pictures:

God and me: why I don't get it and why that's ok

Life is a funny thing…I know, tell you something you don’t already know…but its full of contradictions and problems and triumphs and sadness and regret and all kinds of other things. I have been feeling these a lot lately, the different elements of life that is, and its got me all confused. Since getting back from Europe and the east coast I have been wondering at what God has for me, what I should be doing, how my life’s story is supposed to be told. And I am not sure how it fits, but lately I have been thinking a lot about God, and what an abstract and ridiculous concept the whole thing is. I mean really, there are times when I talk about God like he is a vacuum that I am trying to sell, like he is this incredible invisible product that all my friends need. And then I think about things like the enlightenment, and the whole scientific reason thing, and I think, “there is no way to absolutely prove God, to absolutely prove what I have been selling all these years.” I mean, my faith is by no means blind, or untried, but what it comes down to is that scientifically you can prove many things, but you can’t use science to get to or prove God. And if you ever did, God wouldn’t be God. I think that the nature of God is mystery. I can’t explain why I have the capacity to understand beauty, or why I feel pain or anger or joy, I just do. And so in a way, this is how I understand God, and my relationship to him; that he is on a vertical plane of existence and I am on a horizontal, and you can’t prove the existence of anything on the vertical because its not quantifiable, its not measurable, it doesn’t add up to enlightenment principles. Well, anyway, that’s that.

And I have also been thinking a lot about the Bible lately, and how I read it. I heard someone say the other day that Jesus didn’t come to start Christianity, and I thought that this was very beautiful and true because that means that Jesus didn’t have any agenda or hidden motives other than loving people. He wasn’t out to start a major world religion, he came simply to tell people and show them that God loved them. And I think that we get so caught up in reading each verse in the Bible like it has some secret magic in it, a key to unlocking some passage of our hearts, that we miss the overarching message that is screaming to be heard. Notice that Jesus tells stories, he talks in metaphor, he speaks in poetry and prose. He doesn’t give us lists or formulas, although sometimes I wish he did. So why? I wondered, if the sermon I hear in church on Sunday comes with a list or a formula for living a happier life why didn’t Jesus just give us that himself? Why did he always respond with questions and tell stories? But I think that his message isn’t a formula, it isn’t a four-step program to happiness, it’s a story about God loving people. The Bible, I think, is nothing more than stories about people’s encounters with God. So I realized that I have been reading all wrong, that I have been thinking about things all wrong, and I took some time to read through stories and not perform literary surgery on each verse. I can’t tell you how freeing that was. It was freedom from religion and boxed in formulas, it was simply relational, and I loved that.

So being back here is weird, its back to my job, school, responsibility, stuff like that. But I once heard someone say that life is like fine wine, it won't appeal to children. And I think that is true, life is what it is, it is difficult, and at some point in time I will have to come to terms with that. But I also think that life is full of adventure, and hope, and truth. And the truth of it is that you and I are deeply spiritual beings, deeply spiritual people, and whether we acknowledge it or not doesn't make it any less true. So I don't want to deny that to myself any more, because embracing spirituality, not religion, has made my life more complete.

Europe: english and bread

It has been a long time since I have had internet access, and a lot has happened since that time, so I will make this as good a summary as I can. Freak I love summer, thats all I can say. My adventures thus far have been unforgettable, and the stuff that good and full lives are made of as far as I know.

We arrived in Prague after about 24 hours of straight travel, having been delayed at Heathrow airport for six hours due to security concerns. Let me tell you, there is not much to do for six hours in the world's busiest airport, ug. Anyway, so, after arriving at about eleven at night Prague time, we decided to go into the city at 5am the next day because we knew we would not have time the next day before we were bussed to our training in Malenovice. So, after an early morning and a quick tour around the nearly deserted streets of Prague, we had breakfast and headed to Malenovice, where we would meet with several other groups who were also teaching english somewhere in the Czech. The training in Malenove took place in a new and beautiful ski lodge, located high on a mountain and overlooking wooded hills and green meadows below. Wow. It was beaitiful. We trained there for two and a half semi-restful days, and then departed for our less than desirable second location: a hotel that had once served as a Communist training camp of sorts, and had not been touched by the hand of renovation since. Classy, was my first thought upon seeing it. The sinks were in the showers, which, I suppose, really does save one a bit of trouble in the long run, and the whole place reaked of smoke. Anyway, it turned out to be a lot of fun, and once the students arrived, the fun and sleep deprivation didn't stop. I found that I really do love teaching english, and it helped that the students really wanted to learn. I was able to form relationships with people who barely spoke English, but who were kind, thoughtful and smart. Ok, I am running out of time, I am supposed to meet several Czech friends at a local pub in ten minutes, so quickly...some of my favorite memories thus far: sleeping on airport floors, trying to read road signs in Czech, rap battling my friend Joe G, playing guitar briefly at a train station for money, searching for two friends lost in the mountains near where we were staying, continuous laughter and stories, meeting good people. It is amazing how kind people are. With all the crap that happens in the world today, one can begin to think that everyone is like that, cruel and self-centered. But I have found so many good people, people who really care and will give anything for their fellow man. I am staying in the house of one of my students, Martin, and I have not stopped eating yet. His parents had dinner going when I arrived, and it is still going now...three hours later. I have literally eaten my weight in food. One of the key rules here is to eat everything you are given, all of it. So that has become my burden to bear, and it has been a real pleasure thus far.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I have eaten the equivelant of three trucks full of bread since being here. They love their bread I tell you, and that is most of what I have eaten until now. White fattening bread, all the time.

Life is good. Travel is good. Adventure is good. God is good.

Boston: journey around the city

The last few days have been awesome, and have shown me in many ways how good life really is. I am still in Boston, even though I was supposed to leave two days ago. My friends Joe and Sarah convinced me to stay for the extra days, promising good times and memories, and the last few days have been nothing short. We have been almost everywhere in this city, each day we set out on our journey to cover as much of the city as possible and see as much as we can. Yesterday I was in a street performance in front of Quincy Market in downtown Boston much to the delight of a crowd of several hundred. I ate Sushi, saw the ocean, walked for miles and saw the sunset and I have to tell you that it was pretty perfect. I am enjoying this so much, this freedom that comes with travel and uncertainty.

I have been sharing a bed with my friend Joe, a big goofy guy from Cincinnati who is a social worker in the city, and, other than occasionally stealing the blankets, I couldn't ask for a better bed-mate. He is one of those guys who draws people to him, and I think his outlook on life is brilliant. He is quickly becoming one of my favorite people.

The history is everywhere out here, and almost every old brick building you can see has some historical significance. What is interesting to see are the old buildings, apartments, houses, and so on, and the giant corporate buildings lighted and standing tall behind them. The contrast between these two time periods provides an interesting commentary as to the progression of American ingenuity. Old and comfortable versus new and industrialized.

In a few hours it’s off to New York City where I will stay for the next few days. Parting is indeed such sweet sorrow, especially since I have made such great memories with these people in Boston. But all things must come to an end and it is time for me to move on with my journey, and, as always, it is exciting to think of what the future holds.A few pictures from my time...

This is a homeless guy who wouldn't let me go, he kept talking about how when he was my age he had toga parties too, and how he needed money to visit his friends in Europe...Why do these guys always singe me out?

Boston day two, three, and four: seminars and togas

The last few days have been great, I have learned a lot, and I have not gotten much sleep. There are three points that summarize some of what I have learned so far, and they are as follows: 1) I have found that economics is infinitely more complicated than I had imagined, 2) I know infinitely less than I thought I knew, 3) the more I know the less I understand. These three truths cause me a great deal of intellectual pain the last few days as I have conversed, debated, and laughed with people my age from around the world. I spoke with a guy from Mexico City about immigration, I debated the pros and cons of a free-market system with a girl from Nepal, I picked the brain of a Harvard student and I got into a heated debate with a Russian over the role of eggs in a breakfast meal. The level of intellect on this campus really is amazingly high, and I find myself way out of my league yet enjoying every minute of it. I am learning more than I thought I would, and at a much faster rate than my brain can process so I am constantly referring to my notes and trying to master the language of economics.

Time is flying by here as there is so much to do and see and think about. It has been frusterating to me because it really does seem as though the more I know about free-market principles, profits and losses, incentives, and a variety of other economic related material, I find it difficult to understand what the right thing to do is. The more I learn about this stuff, the more I realize that the world is a complex web of ideas, each of which might hold some validity, and I feel less and less qualified to make the distinction between a good and bad idea. One obviously good thing that this time has given me is the opportunity to think, talk, and discuss deeply with other really smart people. Everyone should have this type of thing. It is constantly challenging everything I know, and forcing me to defend it daily.

Well, aside from all the academic thinking that has gone on here, there has been a bit of fun. My friend Joe and I were sitting at the social last night talking about what kind of fun things we could do today on our free day. He suggested that he and I rent bikes at a shop he had found so that we could tour Boston in a quick and fun way; I completely agreed, and, only half seriously, suggested that we do it while wearing togas. Joe loved the idea and the two of us were quickly devising a plan for the next day and how we would ride our bikes while wearing togas all day and all over Boston. Well, today we spent seven straight hours touring Boston on bikes, stopping traffic, getting honks, waves, yells, laughs, and everything in between. You see, our idea caught on and by the time we were ready to go, we had a group of 14 international students wearing togas and sitting on bikes.

A few highlights: stopping at Harvard school of law to get information and talk up my name...I may have been the first person ever to wear a toga in the ancient halls of Harvard, and hopefully the last. Completely stopping two lanes of traffic while 14 toga sporting bikers rode accross the stree to honks and plenty of obscene gestures. Riding along the Charles river at night and seeing the city, lit up in all its glory and set against a starry sky, cool wind singing a song of peace. Laughing with people from accross the world, all of whom, despite our differences, can appreciate the humor of riding through Boston in togas.

Here are a few pictures: