<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:22:11.322-07:00</updated><category term='n'/><title type='text'>This World Around Me</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-7896405485231714567</id><published>2009-01-03T18:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T18:08:59.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Chapter, A New Blog</title><content type='html'>Im not sure if anyone reads this thing anymore, but I figured I would throw this up here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back in China after a month at home visiting family and friends. And by the looks of it, I will be in China got quite awhile! So I decided to start a new blog and say goodbye to this one. Here is the link:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://dearsarahjane.blogspot.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out this website for more on what I will be doing in China - www.chinahomefoundation.org&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to all who have read this blog and who have supported me on this crazy journey. It it as much yours as mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-7896405485231714567?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/7896405485231714567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=7896405485231714567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7896405485231714567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7896405485231714567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-chapter-new-blog.html' title='A New Chapter, A New Blog'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-3823827509787800987</id><published>2008-09-10T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T19:31:31.204-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back In Black</title><content type='html'>When I was younger I was in a metal band called Falling Cycle. Now when people ask me about it I always say "crazy" metal band for some reason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we grew and grew and wrote more music one song always remained the crowd pleaser and set closer. It was called Heart Turns Black. The lyrics went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched your heart turn black&lt;br /&gt;and the pieces of your life are on the ground&lt;br /&gt;Your withered sun&lt;br /&gt;will not come up tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;The beauty of your life is cracking&lt;br /&gt;and every word you say is another spike in his hand&lt;br /&gt;You will never know how much you mean to Him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote those lyrics when I was 19, I think. And if I am honest I have no idea who or what they were about. I probably just wrote them because they sounded cool at the time and then attached a meaning to them so they were no longer empty words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, at 25, I find that those words mean much more than what they did when I wrote them. Its as if they were meant to be a letter post-dated and sent to me now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant feel anything. Its as if my heart has literally turned black. Its not that I dont want to feel, I just cant. Im not miserable but I would rather be miserable and feel it than completely desensitized. Babies die and I cant mourn the loss. I cant even work up a tear in my eye. Its makes me "feel" as if I am just a body without a heart that continues to function. And I am just sitting by watching it, wishing I could pick up the pieces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics say, "The beauty of your life is cracking."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A much smarter Ernest Hemingway said, "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger at the broken places." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I assume/hope that is what God is doing right now. Breaking me. And really I asked for it. I need it. Its just hard to sit back, seemingly complacent, with a "black heart" waiting and praying for something to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have learned anything on this journey it is that God is faithful and uses every situation for something. It would be be igonrant for me to believe anything other than that now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-3823827509787800987?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/3823827509787800987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=3823827509787800987' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3823827509787800987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3823827509787800987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/09/back-in-black.html' title='Back In Black'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-4304884691827462784</id><published>2008-06-22T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T15:25:28.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sabbatical</title><content type='html'>Recently, I was thinking about not writing on this anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had/have a very strong conviction that our current culture promotes a very "I" life style, as if our lives are a Broadway show to be played out in front of an audience. I know for many people this is not the case, but I have constantly fell into this. And when that happens I lose something sacred about myself, about being alive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog has become that to me. It has become a show, something for people to look at and clap at, to disagree with, to applaud, to compliment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have made a promise to myself that when I realize I am putting my life on show, I will immediately get off the stage, or more accurately, close the curtains. I know there are probably only 5 people who read this thing, but I guess thats besides the point. A promise is a promise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So instead of ending this blog, I am just going to take a break. A summer vacation. I think they call it a sabbatical. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you in September.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-4304884691827462784?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/4304884691827462784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=4304884691827462784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/4304884691827462784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/4304884691827462784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/06/sabatical.html' title='Sabbatical'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-4869063092438992786</id><published>2008-06-22T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T15:27:51.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in Red(with yellow stars)</title><content type='html'>I have successfully made it back to China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months ago when I tried to get a visa in Delhi, I was told that all the Chinese embassys were only giving out 1 month tourist visas until after the Olympics. This definitely stood in the way of my plan, considering I was hoping to stay until December.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a lot of thought, prayer, ranting to Russ, and stretching my patience to its limit, I decided to send my passport back to Texas to an agency who said they could "probably" process a 1 year visa. So I Fedexed it from Kathmandu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then waited some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting sucks. There's no more elegant way to put it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I waited. I ate..a lot. Read a few books. Worried. Listened to music. Worried some more. Used the internet. Broke down. Prepared my heart for the worst. And kept waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God must have a sense of humor because we are in situations where we have to wait for something our entire life. I heard someone say once that when we pray it doesn't change God, it changes us. I think that might be part of waiting. We can pray and pray to God that God gives us what we want, what we are waiting for, and when we get it our hearts are thankful but not changed. But when we begin to pray and ask God to do as God pleases with the situation, and ask God to prepare out hearts for whatever the outcome, whether or not we get what we are waiting for, we are changed by it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that God used this situation to change my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the end, like I said, I am back in China. I received a 1 year multiple entry visa which is unheard of right now. And I am thankful for it. I am thankful that God is faithful, not to what I want or think I need, but to what God knows I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-4869063092438992786?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/4869063092438992786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=4869063092438992786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/4869063092438992786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/4869063092438992786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/06/back-in-redwith-yellow-stars.html' title='Back in Red(with yellow stars)'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-2584998692749200976</id><published>2008-06-01T22:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T15:29:41.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot News and Cold Coffee</title><content type='html'>I read a book back when I was in China by the Dalai Lama. I don't remember the exact quote but in a response to a question about anger, he said something along the lines that anger is almost always a destructive thing unless it leads to a sense of urgency and action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided a few months ago that I was going to make a conscious effort to stay up to date on what was going on in the world. It seemed logical considering I have been traveling around it for the last year. Up until recently, I just wasn't interested. I had no idea about anything besides what I picked up from random conversations. Other than the elections back at home, I was basically oblivious to what was going on in the world that I had been living in. I'm embarrassed to say it but its true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with this change of heart, I set out to take in as much as a could. I bought every weekly magazines and daily newspaper I could. Then I would sit down over a cup of coffee and read. Id finish a cup, make another one, and read some more. It was almost romantic. Hot news and cold coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hoping to just read objectively and just take in what I was reading without a bias. I hadn't set out to form an opinion but after a few weeks I was beginning to have an opinion on everything. Things I didn't even know were going on the week before, I had something to say about it. And to be honest, I didn't like it. I liked knowing what was going on in the world, but I didn't like having an opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that opinions can be applied to the statement the Dalai Lama made about anger - opinions are almost always a destructive thing unless they lead to a sense of urgency and action. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't say that as an excuse to be oblivious about what is going on in the world, or to any other thing or subject you can take an opinion. The only other thing worse than a stagnant opinion is oblivion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what good does having an opinion on anything do unless it leads to some type of action? Having a well rounded opinion on something can be extremely dangerous because it can provide the illusion that we are connected to the subject of our opinion without doing anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take for example politics. I have sat at many a conversations where people can argue about their politcal opinion all night until the sun comes up. But when the sun comes up, they dont do anything about it. Their opinion never takes an action. All it is is a tool to manipulate and dominate a conversation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe religion, dare I say Christianity? Every Christian has an opinion on what it is to live as a Christ follower. And many can have in-depth conversations about theology and their opinion on a certain interpretation of this or that verse. But rarely do our opinions ever turn to action. The message of Christianity is simple. If Christians actually lived based of their opinions and conviction, the world would be a much different place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't write this from a high and mighty platform. I am writing it because I am guilty of it. If I lived based on my opinions of things, my life would be radically different. I would be doing more with what I have been given. But its hard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its easy to have an opinion, but the challenge is actually to let your opinion change who you are and how you act. If having an opinion on something doesn't actually lead to action, I would question our motive for having an opinion in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(this is long and probably doesn't make much sense, back to the news and coffee)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-2584998692749200976?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/2584998692749200976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=2584998692749200976' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/2584998692749200976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/2584998692749200976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/06/hot-news-and-cold-coffee.html' title='Hot News and Cold Coffee'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-1974450726786556663</id><published>2008-05-27T03:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T04:19:21.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brick by Brick</title><content type='html'>This probably won't make much sense, but lately I have had the overwhelming feeling of feeling nothing. Which I guess is a contradiction, so maybe I should say the "experience" of feeling nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was younger I had several very dark battles against depression. A wave of depression, an unexplainable darkness, would decend over my life like rain clouds do on a stormy day. Not for any particular reason. Just some type of chemical reaction the doctor said, not triggered by any specific event. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like that everything would change. All the things that worried me before the depression arrived disappeared the instant those dark clouds arrived. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do they think of me? What should I wear on friday night? Does she like me?  What should I do when I graduate?  How much money will I make? Does he know what I said about him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was making it through the day. Because the feeling that came over me during those times was so heavy that it was impossible to look past it. It was very present, very dark, and very unforgiving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was real. Very, very real. The tears I cried were real. The pain I felt was real. I could not hide from it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this doesnt sound twisted, but sometimes I find myself missing those days. Those dark days when the only thing I could do was feel. Those day were painful, but so honest. So real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would never wish that type of stuggle and pain on anyone, but now I find that I can very easily hind away my frustration and pains. And instead of feeling them and breaking down, I just let them bounce off my shoulder and continue on my merry way. And instead of being honest with my heart I convince it that everything is fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could I come so far from that? I always told myself after those episodes ended that I would always allow my heart to feel what it was experiencing, good or bad, pain of happiness. But it seems that some how, over time, I have let go of that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant remember the last time I broke down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been asking God to break down the walls I have built around my heart. To let me feel again. Sometimes I wish God drove a bulldozer and would just knock down the walls with one great hit. But thats not usually how God works. I have a feeling that I am going to have to disassemble the walls I built, brick by brick. And with each brick I take off there will be that much less between what my heart experiences and what my heart feels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether that be dark clouds or sunny skys, I am not so much concerned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-1974450726786556663?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/1974450726786556663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=1974450726786556663' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/1974450726786556663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/1974450726786556663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/05/brick-by-brick.html' title='Brick by Brick'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8990034310824166455</id><published>2008-05-07T05:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T05:41:59.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Been Awhile</title><content type='html'>Lately for some reason, I have felt as if I have lost my imagination. As if I can only think about moment to moment tasks and go through the motions of existing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know the exact reason, but I think it has alot to do with who I am being stetched to the limits: My patience. My frustration. My endurance. My relationship with God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its hard to let your mind go when you are using all you have to make it through the day or moment. Its as if I have nothing left in me to give to my imagination right now. I feel tapped out in a way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been sitting very heavy with me for a few days. But now that I sit and write it down and think about it a bit, I realize its not such a terrible thing. Sometimes life requires us to use all we have to get through the day or situation or moment. And thats ok. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My entire life I have had this feeling that if I wasnt "producing" something I was wasting my time. Producing thoughts, ideas, relationships, income, and so on and so on. But I see now that though this way of thought can be a very useful tool it also can be very damaging. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has an agenda. Instead of walking into a situation openly this way of thought is saying, "What can I get come this? What can I take away from it? There's something to gain here, something to learn, what is it?" And I do believe that every situation and moment in my life holds some sort of wisdom, small or big, that I can take from it. But when I enter a situation looking for this wisdom, sometimes I walk right past it and just find what I think I should learn instead of what I need to learn. I look past the situation at how I can use what I learn in the future instead of just living in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I see now that maybe knowing I can make it through situations that stretch me to my limits is a wisdom in itself. Knowing I can endure. I have to tell myself over and over that its okay to have times when I am just existing. When I am just making it through the day. That is what makes me human. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thats okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8990034310824166455?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8990034310824166455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8990034310824166455' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8990034310824166455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8990034310824166455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-been-awhile.html' title='Its Been Awhile'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-2674491097095126911</id><published>2008-04-21T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T03:53:11.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tension...</title><content type='html'>There seems to be something in our human nature that pushes us to stay out of situations, conversations, beliefs, and relationships that put us in an environment of tension. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always want things to be black and white. One side or the other. We want things to be spelled out for us, written in stone so that we can always look back on things and let them tell us who we are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? I think the obvious answer is that we want to be comfortable. When things are black and white we can stop thinking about them and struggling with them. We can sit in our chair drinking coffee and reading the paper knowing that nothing is going to rock our world becuase we have already figured it all out. We neatly package every situation, conversation, set of beliefs, and relationship and then stamp a label on the top that either says black or white, good or bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where does that leave us...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comfortable but not learning. Safe but not imagining. And in most cases if we are honest, bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we still continue to do this day in and day out. Never letting new ideas infultrate us and have a chance to influence us, not to mention, God forbid, they change us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because living in the middle, in the grey, in the tension, is uncomfortable. We never feel like we can put our foot down on something. There never seems to be level ground below our ideas and beliefs when you are in the tension.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been learning more and more everyday I am on this journey that though living in the tension of life is uncomfortable, it holds the essence of what it means to live, learn, and imagine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a rubberband for instance( I hope this isnt to cheesy). When a rubberband is not being used it is basically worthless. A rubberband sitting on a table can be used for nothing. But when we stretch the rubberband, when we apply tension, we can use the rubber band for numerous useful and helpful things. But, we have to also realize that if we stretch a rubberband to far, we apply to much tension, it will snap and again be useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is only when the rubberband is in the middle of the tension, not stretched to far but stretched enough to apply pressure, that it can actually be useful and do what it was made to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that when we allow ourselves to live without tension we are just like an unstretched rubberband on a table. We are not being used for what we were made to do. We are not allowing ourselves to think the way we were made to, to be creative, frustrated, loving, irritated, amazed...I could go on forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know for myself that my most amazing and creative ideas, work, and thoughts are concieved in times when I experience great tension in my life and in my heart. When I am being stretched, twisted, and confronted with the things around me. There are the few, but inspirational, times in my life when instead of running to my coffee and newpaper, I let the tension become a part of me and let it change me and influence me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope and pray that as friends and family we encourage each other to step outside of comfort and black and white and step into the tensions of life, allowing it to influence us and change us. Allowing us to become more understanding and passionate, more kindhearted and humble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-2674491097095126911?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/2674491097095126911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=2674491097095126911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/2674491097095126911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/2674491097095126911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/04/tension.html' title='Tension...'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5529211517173440551</id><published>2008-04-16T22:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T23:26:20.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Go</title><content type='html'>Russ (my good friend from California) and I have been "on the go" now for about 2 weeks. We have traveled from one coast of India to the other and will be heading north in a day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contrary to popular belief traveling like this can be a boat load of work!: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Booking bus tickets becuase the train is sold out, then finding out a state border is closed due to fighting. Rebooking the bus tickets. Arriving in a new city at 11pm and trying to find a hotel that is open, not to mention one that is clean. Knowing how much money you have but also what you want to do and trying to reconcile the two in your head. Trying to plan an itenerary but all the while knowing that whatever you plan will never actually play out that way and trying to keep a calm and good spirited mind about it all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wont even bring up the fact that we are India, one of the most interesting, hard to understand countries I have been to on my journey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know, with all that said, the actual hard part about traveling like this is trying to say focused on your daily struggles and thoughts and not getting consumed with the bigger picture of traveling and inteneraries. Its easy to stop caring about people and treating them will love when you are stressed out about how you are going to make it to the next city. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its easy to forget about the little things that make us human: smiling or laughing with a stranger, complimenting someone, saying thank you and meaning it at the smallest of gestures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont think that this concept is tied to traveling around India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happens to us all. Everyday. Whoever we are. Wherever we are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to drop the kids at school today, but Timmy has to be there early because of band practice. Dont forget to pack their lunches. Is Barbara picking them up today? The car needs and oil change but I cant do it until Sunday. I really hope that Bob come through with his side of the deal this time. I cant keep picking up his slack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the meantime you forgt to kiss your wife goodbye and tell your kids you love them and mean it. Or smile at the old lady crossing the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its the same in India as it is in California. Its the same or a 25 year old vagabond kid and a 50 year old business man:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is busy and stressful and overwhelming and makes it easy to forget that there is alot more to life than just living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that wherever and whoever we are, at some point in our day we need to be able to say to ourselves, "This is it. This is living." Whether is comes from smiling at a stranger, kissing your wife or girlfriend, or playing soccer with a couple of random kids, it doesnt matter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just by doing this we are acknowledging that we ARE alive outside the noise and struggles and stresses of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is it. This is living.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5529211517173440551?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5529211517173440551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5529211517173440551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5529211517173440551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5529211517173440551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/04/on-go.html' title='On the Go'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5987509216969006992</id><published>2008-04-06T02:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T13:26:24.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disneyland</title><content type='html'>Do you remember what it felt like the first time you pulled into the parking lot of Disneyland or a place like it? The excitement, wonder, and awe that comsumed your heart? The sense of adventure you felt and the overwhelming joy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I took a train from Tuni, India where I was working to Chennai to meet my friend who will be joining me for 2 months. I settled into my humble bunk bed and began listening to the Rolling Stones. Once the train began to move I instantly and involuntarily grew a ridiculous smile that stretched from ear to ear. It felt like I was a child again, walking up to the ticket counter at Disneyland with my dad, not able to contain my excitement. I was filled with joy and aware of the adventure I was a part of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This feeling has touched my heart over and over again on this journey. There are times when its just not possible to hide the excitement that overwhelms me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I sit on the back of a motorcycle taxi and ride through the streets of a new city with my backpack strapped to my back, I can't help but to feel like a child overwhelmed with the feeling of excitement and awe at what I'm doing or about to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I get on a train and sit by the door and let the air blow on my face as we pass through the countryside, I am reminded that this is my dream. A real dream that has become reality and my heart is consumed with excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that I always have moments in my life when I am overwhelmed with this childlike excitement. Those moments when every other thought escapes you and you can only see the beauty of what you are involved in right then and there. These moments help us remember that we are living and that we will always be children in a way, dreaming and imagining and experiencing everything that this amazing world has to offer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5987509216969006992?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5987509216969006992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5987509216969006992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5987509216969006992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5987509216969006992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/04/disneyland.html' title='Disneyland'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5332625773901935612</id><published>2008-04-04T01:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T13:31:01.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Static( The Opressed Heart)</title><content type='html'>Wow. March is finished. I never thought that the month was going to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to explain to a friend what the last month was like and compare it to something that would make sense. I came up with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like trying to go to sleep in a room with a television tuned to static and the volume all the way up. Imagine the frustration, turned anger, and then eventually the breakdown you would experience if you were in that situation. Thats the best way I can describe what this last month was like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Static. All day, everyday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have left, this is true. But in this instance I felt it was something that I needed to experience and I knew that God would use it to work on my hardened heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are so many other times in my life that I have voluntarily entered into a situation that was full of useless and frustrating static. Static that would get in the way of my creativity, my imagination, and my ability to see life as an opportunity to do something amazing. Static that would oppress my heart to the point that the only thing I could think about was how to make it through each day without breaking down. There is no peripheral world when I get myself into a situation full of static, one that constantly oppresses my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what happened to me when I took my job in San Francisco. I saw dollar signs and nothing else when I took the job. Then a few months in I realized that I was miserable. I had voluntarily entered into a situation full of static that eventually oppressed my heart and stole my creativity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we really need to be aware of this. That we as human being tend to get blinded by what is not important in life and eventually loose site of what life is about becuase all the hope and excitement we once had has become oppressed by the static we voluntarily entered into. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we can keep this fresh in our minds we can approach each situation with a knowledge and strength that won't allow us to get ourselves into these positions. Or maybe if we already are, the strength and perseverence to leave our current situation for something that liberates instead of oppresses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5332625773901935612?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5332625773901935612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5332625773901935612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5332625773901935612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5332625773901935612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/04/static-opressed-heart.html' title='Static( The Opressed Heart)'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8476434011765607487</id><published>2008-03-22T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T13:33:45.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holding On</title><content type='html'>There are certain times in life that the only way to get through a situation is to just let go. To let go of what you thought it would be, what you want to get out of it, and how it affects your daily life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been here in India working at this children's home for about 3 weeks and I have been clinging not only to the many preconceptions of what I hoped it would be, but also to basic things like personal space and free/alone time. I have been desperately holding on to these ideas and this in turn has made dealing with my troubles of being here that much more difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasnt until I let go of all of this that I began to really be at peace with being here. Not until I gave up my constant and very strong desire for personal space and alone time was I able to address each situation more calmly and less frustrated, making me more at peace with being here and more loving toward the people who are constantly surrounding me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we all tend to do this. We hold on so tight to what we want out of a situation that when it doesn't deliver these requests we find ourselves frustrated and short-tempered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At work, at home, with family, with friends. We begin to be filled with resentment and unerlying anger toward each situation and the people involved. This leads to comlpete counter-productivity and is very dangerous for our hearts. But if we only were able to slowly let go of all the different expectations and ideas that we cling so tight to we would be able to let each situation be what it is. The reality of the situation would be in our present mind instead of some dream idea of what we conceive it to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has taken me nearly all of 3 weeks to know and be okay with the fact that the only time I will be physically alone is when I go to the bathroom. I had to let go. I now see this is a very simple example but I think the idea can be applied to the smallest and largest aspects of our lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have to be able to adjust, to evolve our minds to whatever phyiscal or mental situation we are in. Only when we do this are we able to experience the truth and meaning of what we are presently involved in and understand and learn from it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8476434011765607487?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8476434011765607487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8476434011765607487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8476434011765607487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8476434011765607487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/03/holding-on.html' title='Holding On'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-3716491653766580185</id><published>2008-03-16T03:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T13:36:04.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks for the hard times, seriously.</title><content type='html'>Like most people, I tend to avoid things that will obviously be difficult or strenuous. I think thats simple human nature. There is no need to throw ourselves into situations that will be hard on our spirit if they are at all avoidable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then there's how Life works. And Life sometimes just throws you into a difficult or hard situation and you never saw it coming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you repsond to this? How do you react? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has thrown me into a difficult situation here in India and I find myself and my spirit being attacked on a daily basis. I have a strong spirit but I definitely feel like I am treading water here, bearly staying afloat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to get frustrated and angry and yell at God, "What is the point of this? It's so stupid. It's useless." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I now realize that everytime we are thrown into a difficult situation there is a very specific reason we are there. Most the time we dont know what that reason is until long after the actual situation is over. When I moved to San Francisco, I felt horribly alone for nearly 6 months. I had met people and had friends but still struggled with this unexplainable weight of anxiety due to loneliness. It was terrible and I would never wish that on anybody. But about the time that this feeling began to move away from me, I started to plan this trip: A world tour for nearly 2 years - Alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can see this anyway you want, but I know that what I experienced in San Francisco was necessary for me to endure in order to make it through and thoroughly enjoy this journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that old quote, "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger"? It means alot more when you look at it through the lense of your own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where I am right now isn't really my ideal situation, but I know I am being broken or prepared for something else, something bigger and more important. And when I can look at it this way I grow thankful in my heart that I am here. Now. And when I look back in a month or a year at my experience here I can laugh at how instrumental it was in some other aspect of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-3716491653766580185?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/3716491653766580185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=3716491653766580185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3716491653766580185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3716491653766580185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/03/thanks-for-hard-times-seriously.html' title='Thanks for the hard times, seriously.'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5809308332415288431</id><published>2008-03-16T03:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T13:37:16.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Anniversary</title><content type='html'>It has been a year since I jumped on my first flight from LAX to Peru. Since then I have traversed 4 continents, traveled through 10 countries, and have taken part in 6 volunteer projects. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been quite a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though my calender says its been 12 months since I left, I dont feel like I have been gone that long. Each new place seems to consume me and my time there is over before I know it. Its not until I sit and read through my journal or go through the posts from last March that I am aware of the time that has passed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am beyond grateful for being able to do what I am doing. This is my dream. I remember sitting in my office in San Francisco, fed up with work and life in general, and thinking to myself that it would be amazing to just leave all this behind and go. See the world. Do something different for a change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now here I am, a year later with another 10 months to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to everyone who has been supporting me in this journey/pilgrimage/trip in any way. Thank to all my family and friends for constantly writing and making me feel as if you are just a phone call away. I will be forever in your debt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to another year of living, learning, and feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5809308332415288431?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5809308332415288431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5809308332415288431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5809308332415288431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5809308332415288431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-anniversary.html' title='My Anniversary'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-6596252803374695663</id><published>2008-03-11T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T13:39:26.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Honda Dealers and Sidewalk Slums</title><content type='html'>It hadn't been but 5 minutes after I left the airport in Chennai, India that we drove by a Honda dealership on one side if the road and on the other there was a slum lining the sidewalk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many of my friends who have been to India kept telling me that there is virtually no line seperating poverty and wealth in India. They said that povery and wealth were not found on opposite sides of town, but existing hand in hand all over. I don't think I really understood the magnitude of what they were saying until I drove down that street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an overwhelming feeling of helplessness when you see this type of reality for the first time. I have been all over the world but none of my travels have really prepared me for the degree of poverty here in India. It's unavoidable and unescapeable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has continued to amaze me that where you are born basically can decide whether you eat or go hungry, whether you are housed or homeless. And in many cases, whether you live or whether you die. How has this become possible? Where did things go so wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had some great wisdom to end this with but really this is just me thinking out loud, trying to work through the intracicies of our existence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that life will continue to throw these types of things at me. Situations that have no acceptable explanation. And all that lingers in my mind after stuggling with this day and night is that I have to do something about it. I have to begin to live for something more than myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-6596252803374695663?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/6596252803374695663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=6596252803374695663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/6596252803374695663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/6596252803374695663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/03/honda-dealers-and-sidewalk-slums.html' title='Honda Dealers and Sidewalk Slums'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8475188011381334129</id><published>2008-02-27T18:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T19:19:57.731-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Small Things</title><content type='html'>I find that while I have been gone I tend to focus on what I an doing as a big picture. And all the small mundane daily actions and interactions just fall lightly somewhere into this big picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was reminding a few days ago that though the big picture ultimately stamps who were are in that period of time, its the mundane daily details to define who we really are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday we have the opportunity to say hello to someone when they look at us instead of putting our heads down. Everyday we have to chance to put our candy wrapper in the trash instead of throwing it on the ground. Everyday we have the amazing possibility to use ever small, mundane thing we do to become better people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its easy to step back from life and try to see it as a big picture and that everything we are and do falls into that picture and defines us. I tend to do that quite a bit. As much as that is true, I believe it stumbles us from seeing all the small opporunities we have to be somebody great. Because really, throwing a piece of trash in the bin isnt that epic or exciting. But if we wake up day after day and commit ourselves to living life for the small things like throwing our wrapper away or smiling at somebody we dont know, we will begin to slowly become the amazing people we are meant to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's the old saying that big things come in small packages. I think we can apply this to the little things in life. For every small thing we do, there is a big opportunity to let it change who we are. Though these opportunities appear like small insignificant daily tasks they are really thousands of chances for us to become better and more loving people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its all about the small things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8475188011381334129?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8475188011381334129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8475188011381334129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8475188011381334129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8475188011381334129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/02/small-things.html' title='The Small Things'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8989536081484090269</id><published>2008-02-20T03:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T03:47:31.911-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forget Something...?</title><content type='html'>In the 9 months since I have left Peru, I have not been able to replicate the amazing and intimate connection that I had with the people there. I have tried to explain the unexplainable closeness I had with the people I was working with there. And though the work I have done since had influences me in so many ways, I have yet to understand what it was that created that intimancy with the people in Peru. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously could not pinpoint an action or event that would give way to any type of explanation for this until last night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was listening to one of my favorite speaking, Rob Bell, and he was talking about our responsibilities as Americans to reach out to the opressed and marginalized. Its nothing new, nothing that we dont know. But at one point in his talk, he said something that instantly made me realize that had forgotten to do something so simple but so important: We need to love people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that simple right? I know that already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I realized in that moment that somewhere inbetween leaving Peru and entering Mongolia I stopped loving the people I had came to work with and live with. I was still there working and trying to do what I could with the little time I had butistopped trying to connect with the people. I think i began to see what I was doing as a job and not as the original commitment I had made to God: To love the people I am surrounded by and learn from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont say this to belittle the work I have done since Peru but my heart has been plagued with this absence of connection, and I didnt know why until yesterday. I let my heart and mind settle on the idea that working itself was enough, that being there was enough. And by doing that I lost the intimate and irreplaceable bond that only truly loving someone can form. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think its easy for us to lose sight of this day in and day out. There is so much going on throughout our days that trying to show a bit of love to everyone you meet becomes a serious burden. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving people means going out of your way to give a friend a ride to work because their car broke down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving people means staying up all night to talk with a heavy-hearted friend even though you have to work early the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving people means actually listening when people talk, instead of just waiting to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And loving people means still going to play with the kids after a 9 hour journey to Burma to get your visa renued. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere along the lines, I forgot to do the most important thing I can do: Love&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8989536081484090269?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8989536081484090269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8989536081484090269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8989536081484090269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8989536081484090269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/02/forget-something.html' title='Forget Something...?'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-3086211402356885362</id><published>2008-02-15T05:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T06:07:14.139-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='n'/><title type='text'>Attitude</title><content type='html'>I have consistently gone through these periods of time since I have been gone that are plagued with an unwarranted "attitude" toward life and the way things work out for different people, even if those people arent anger about it themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attitude is sometimes characterized by anger, sometimes pride, or experience. And in the worst of these times it is a combination of all these things. Its as if I am saying to God or whoever, "Well...what do you have to say about this?" And then I arrogantly wait for some answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that if you look through my blog you can probably see in my writing when I am going through one of these times or when I have just came out of it. Not to say that what I write at those times is insignificant or irrelevant, but you can definitely see an attitude in the way I word things. I have been trying to figure out why my heart seems to fall into these "dark" valleys of pessimism and sarcasm and I cant seem to see it coming or dont recognize it until the time is over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am beginning to think that it is a way of trying to avoid experiencing the negative emotions that come with the type of things I am doing. I think for me it is easier to get angry and point fingers and ask questions that dont have good answers so I can feel prideful than to just cry and experience the pain that certain experiences bring with them. Its quite childish now that I see it written out, but I think it might be true for many of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I do know is that when I let this happen my spirit is "loud" and uneasy. My thoughts are all incomplete and my words are weightless. Everything that comes from my body and being is inconsistent and arrogrant. And its in these times that I feel I have so much to prove to everyone. That what I "know" is what everyone needs to "learn." My "voice" needs to be heard, I arrogantly think to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not until these times have passed and my spirit is humble and at rest that I realize what I have just let myself become. Its like night and day. And when I am "restored" my humbled spirit all I want to do is listen to people and understand them. My "attitude" of sorts is completely reversed. Its at this point I realize that my "voice" is but a faint whisper and can easily be blown away with the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that I will be able to set my pride down for just a minute when I see myself falling into this "attitude" and ask the people around me to remind of how much I am not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-3086211402356885362?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/3086211402356885362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=3086211402356885362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3086211402356885362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3086211402356885362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/02/attitude.html' title='Attitude'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8625198653471840579</id><published>2008-02-13T04:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T04:10:58.900-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When Thank You doesnt mean Thank You</title><content type='html'>I feel like the meaning of "Thank You" has completely left phrase. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am constantly the recipient of immeasurable generosity. Since the day I left the States I have said thank you to many times to remember. And now when I say the phrase it feeling like any 2 words put together that have absolutely no meaning. How can I say thank you in a way that people see the actually graditude I have in my heart? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For awhile the nod of my head or a small smile seemed bridge the gap between the words of my mouth and the emotions in my heart. But now I cant seem to find a way to explain to people that buying me a cup of coffee or asking me over for dinner means so much to me. How do I tell them that its because of people like them at home and all over the world that I am able to be doing what I am doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most the people dont even expect a thank you and maybe its more my problem with learning how to accept generosity than anything. But either way, I wish there was a way to open a window to my heart so that those people could look in for just a moment and see how much they mean to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank You. Again and again and again and again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8625198653471840579?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8625198653471840579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8625198653471840579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8625198653471840579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8625198653471840579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/02/when-thank-you-doesnt-mean-thank-you.html' title='When Thank You doesnt mean Thank You'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-3674078731862933955</id><published>2008-02-09T03:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T04:01:57.114-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry</title><content type='html'>To anyone who reads these things I want to apologize for the agressiveness of my last post. I meant everything in it but I think when I say "we" in most my posts I am usually refering to my own shortcoming and tend to try to generalize them so I dont feel like such a bad guy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its much easier to address a problem if it is something that is communal instead of just a problem with ourselves. So when I write I try to refer to "everyone" as having the same stuggles and shortcomings in this life when that is an obsurd assumption. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for continuing to read this and for supporting me on this journey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-3674078731862933955?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/3674078731862933955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=3674078731862933955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3674078731862933955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3674078731862933955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/02/sorry.html' title='Sorry'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8746075971582572976</id><published>2008-02-08T05:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T05:38:27.865-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Least of the Least"</title><content type='html'>I went out to dinner tonight with a thai women who houses, supports, and mothers 8 people ranging from 2 1/2 to 26 years of age. They all have some degree of disability but are able to function together in different amazing ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was sitting there taking in the environment around me I started to think that these people are who we in the West would consider the "least of the least." They have no money,  no real possesions to call there own,and and most of them have no future if I am being honest. They are sick an unable to get the proper care that could change their lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I sat there and interacted with each of them I became really convicted and humbled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, they dont have money or a home to call their own. No they dont have a "regular" family and parents that love them. No, they might not ever get to experience life the way we think all people should experience life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that sense its easy to say they are the "least of the least."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that is wrong. Its just wrong. Because this group of people are more rich in spirit than most the people I know living in the States. They are smiling and they are happy with the life they have been given. How many of us can say that about our lives? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I rode home from dinner I really had to think hard about this. Who are we to decide that these people should be dubbed the least of the least? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I am treading in deep water here, and I know that the impovershed and sick truly do need a chance, an opporunity to make their lives better. Ive been living with the "least of the least" for nearly a year now. In no way am I trying to belittle the horrible struggles they go through and experience day in and day out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what I am trying to get at is that these people live in such horrible circumstances yet they are so rich in spirit and happiness. But we belittle their massive hearts by saying they are the "least of the least" and they need our help to improve their lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When really, we in the West should be calling ourselves the "least of the least" when it comes to anything outside of the material world. We have nearly no spirit or happiness. We are so caught up in all the material crap that we cant see we need to change our hearts before we can really make a difference in anybody elses. We go into a developing country thinking to ourselves, "we have to make their life better, we have to make their life more happy," and just turn a blind eye to the fact that we ourselves need the most help. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have become a people who would rather try to fix other people's lives instead of starting with ourselves. It so much easier to want to change someone elses life than acknowledge the problems we harbor in our hearts.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we as a people can say honestly that we are poor in spirit and need help, we will know that the world should be ready for a beautiful change. But when that time will come, I have no idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8746075971582572976?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8746075971582572976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8746075971582572976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8746075971582572976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8746075971582572976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/02/least-of-least.html' title='The &quot;Least of the Least&quot;'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-7118261671698545016</id><published>2008-02-01T05:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T06:23:24.518-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Not So American" Dream</title><content type='html'>Do you rememeber the good old American dream? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant remember how it goes exactly: a wife, a decent size house with a white picket fence, a good job, two cars, 2.5 kids, and so on. Or something like that. Its not exactly the same as it used to be but it definitely still exists in our minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking today through the neighborhood where the children's home I am volunteering is. And I began thinking(or dreaming might be more relevant) of how I would like a small 2 bedroom house in some foriegn country where I would be working with sick and orphaned kids and how I would have a motorbike to drive to and from where ever I needed to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then for some reason I started to think about the "American Dream". And after I defined it in my mind I began to think about why it is something that has become almost looked down upon by most people. Its not because the house or the cars or the kids or whatever is a bad thing to want, but because consistently from generation to generation we have romanticized this idea of life and when we actually get it, it lets us down. Its not what we thought it would be. The wife isnt all we expected and the kids are annoying. Not to mention the house and cars...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in reality its not the wife or house or kids that let us down or deceive us. Its our romanticized idea of those things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it is easy to think that my dream of living in a different country working with kids is a great thing to dream up. But after thinking about for a bit of time I came to the conclusion that my dream was no different than the good old American Dream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I romanticize the idea of living in a different country working with sick kids its no different than any other person dreaming up any other idea of what their life should be. We become married to a certain idea of what life should be and when it doesnt deliver we are disappointed at least and devestated at most. We miss the entire point of living. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is a very hard thing to actually take life as it comes. But no matter how we romanticize our life, unless we take life as it comes, we will consistently be let down and frustrated. Not because life let us down, but becuase our mutated ideas of what our lives should be have missed the whole point of being alive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-7118261671698545016?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/7118261671698545016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=7118261671698545016' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7118261671698545016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7118261671698545016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/02/not-so-american-dream.html' title='The &quot;Not So American&quot; Dream'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-599935645042037052</id><published>2008-01-31T04:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T05:15:39.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Stanby</title><content type='html'>It is a small world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days ago I had a beer with a couple that I met in the mountains in Peru 9 months ago. In case I hadn't mentioned it yet, I am definitely in Thailand. Nearly half way around the world from Peru. I would be holding back important evidence if I didnt say that we planned on meeting at some point in SE Asia but I still find it amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark and Maddy have been traveling for nearly 16 months and will be going back home next month. We sat at a small bar talking and they told me exciting stories of their travels and and we reminicsed about all the ways I made a fool of myself the last time we had seen each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toward the end of our conversation we began to talk about India. I wanted to pick their brain about it because I will be going there next month and havent really done any research. They began to tell me stories of the cities they had been to, the food they had eaten, and the people they met. It all sounds terribly exciting. During that conversation about India Mark said something that struck a cord in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark said that before they went to India their senses(touch, smell...) were on stanby. He made it sounds like they were being stached away only to be brought out in case of some kind of emergency. They were so used to England that its smells and the sites and feels didnt really stand out at all. But the moment they hit the ground in Delhi and for nearly 2 months after their senses were continuously stimulated. The smells and sights and tastes were to much to not take in. It would be impossible to let your senses stay on stanby while being there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason I immediately linked what Mark was saying about his senses being on stanby to my emotions being in a similar state before I left home. In retrospect I can truthfully say that most of my emotions were on stanby when I was back at home. I was so used to living and existing in that environment that nothing really tugged on my emotions. But almost immediately when I landed in Peru and consistantly until this day my emotions have been stimulated(if that makes sense) and "used" so much. The things I am experiencing are to much to keep my emotions on stanby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a sad day when we let our lives become so regular and so routine that we put our emotions on stanby. Doing this can hold us back from doing and becoming so many things. To think at 24 I had got myself into a way of life that allowed my emotions to become idle is quite scary. I made a promise to myself the other day that no matter where I am in life, if I see my emotions becoming idle and being put on stanby I will walk away from that life immediately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is to amazing to not feel it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-599935645042037052?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/599935645042037052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=599935645042037052' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/599935645042037052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/599935645042037052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/01/on-stanby.html' title='On Stanby'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-1555039676840240582</id><published>2008-01-15T05:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T03:28:09.514-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beauty of Time</title><content type='html'>I think it is absolutely beautiful that as I am going to bed, many are waking up. As I end my day others are beginning their day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to have this idea that Time belongs to me and will do as I command. But in reality Time belongs to no human mind and cannot be confined or pressured into doing what we want. Time is something that we can count on minute to minute. It never fails us as the seconds go by. But if you try to put time into a nicely wrapped box with all your plans in it, Time will jump out quicker than you can imangine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am constanly trying to "lasso" Time and hog tie it to whatever I am feeling at the time. But what good does that do me? It gives me the satisfaction of feeling like I know what my life holds for me. It gives me the illusion that I can control when my life happens. "I'll go home in Decemeber, start an MBA program, work for year, and then go back to China where my heart is." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who do I think I am  to tell Time that this is how its going to work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is absolutely beautiful that as I go to bed, people are waking up. And I believe that it is even more beautiful that no matter how much I try to tell Time what to do, it wont give in. Time will let me experience life as it comes, day to day, not as I plan it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-1555039676840240582?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/1555039676840240582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=1555039676840240582' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/1555039676840240582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/1555039676840240582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/01/beauty-of-time.html' title='The Beauty of Time'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-872513202886908087</id><published>2008-01-12T21:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T22:25:57.651-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listening</title><content type='html'>Its not easy is it? Why do we always fake like we are listening but really we are just waiting for our turn to talk? We are waiting for that split second when we can slip our opinion in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; For awhile I felt like I had overcome this desire. I was never quick to speak when listening to all the people I have met since I have been gone. I almost enjoyed just listening and trying to hear out their ideas and perspectives and see where they are coming from. I had completely abandoned the basic human drive to get my two cents in. And I was learning that what I thought to be "right" is only based on my experience. So the more I listened, the more I understood the reasons why people who were different from me believed what they were saying to be "right", just like myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But like most things, when we take two steps forward, we are usually blind to the one step we are taking back. I realized this when my friends arrived in Bangkok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A group of my best friends are here to visit me for a month. The particular friends are a group of amazing people and we always tend to turn a conversation about spicy sauce or something trival into a conversation about theology or polotics. We have always dont this and always will. I beleive this is why we are such good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we started to have these conversations I started to see how I was slipping back into the old me, the one who usually wasnt listening and was just waiting for his  turn to speak. And I started to ask myself why this was happening. Why, when I was with people so close to me, people who support and enbrace my openmind, did I begin to regress?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if the motive was of open self willed pride or subconscience pride, but after thinking about it for while I came to this conclusion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason I had began to think that my experience outwieghed their experience. And because of that prideful state of mind I stopped listening so much becuase I subconciencely believed that what they were staying didnt mean as much as what I had said or was going to say. I think it was easier to do this with friends because when we know someone's experiences we always attribute their opinion to those experiences. But with a stranger, like the people I meet, we dont know much about their experiences so we have a more unbias take on what they are saying. We cant say they think "this"  because they have seen "that." But with friends its much easier to do. We know both the "this" and "that" of our closer friends so we always tend to try to put the two together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I obviously believe that experiences play a massive role in our opinions and thoughts, more or less experience doesnt always warrent more or less knowledge. Myself being the case and point. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's not much of a point to this whole thing, no good punch like or closing statement. I just wanted to write it down. I think its good to look at who we are and realize that as we strive forward in our minds we can never forget that we are always on a slippery slope. I tend to think of progess as leaps and bounds but really its more like crawling. Speaking with my friends and realized the underlying pride in my speech with them reminded me of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-872513202886908087?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/872513202886908087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=872513202886908087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/872513202886908087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/872513202886908087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2008/01/listening.html' title='Listening'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5990322943964562545</id><published>2007-12-30T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T22:31:05.242-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Midnight Self</title><content type='html'>Last night I couldn't sleep. I was thinking. I was excited. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would lay there in bed for about 20 minutes and then get up and walk around while my little head tried to work through the mass of ideas and thoughts that kept on circulating. Then I would lay back down and in a minutes I would be up again walking and thinking. I was to excited to sleep. These thoughts were urgent and they were important. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My entire life I have had nights like these. Nights where the passion and excitement in my mind will not allow my body to sleep. It's almost the same feeling a child has the day before going to Disneyland or on Christmas Eve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could be wrong, but I don't feel like I'm alone on this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has these nights that give birth to revelations. The best example I can think of is in the movie "Jerry Maguire". In the middle of the night Tom Cruise has a revelation and writes a massive memo and distributes it to all his co-workers at a sports management agency the next day. But that night he wrote, he couldn't sleep. The idea was too important, too urgent. If he slept it would be lost. But after he actualllly gives out the memo, he almost immediately tries to get it back. He wasn't sure about the relevance of its content. He loses his confidence in his idea. Not because he doesn't believe in the idea or concept, but more because he is not sure how others will react to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find that I am very similar to this character. My midnight self is bold, passionate, and confident. My midnight self can literally do everything he thinks up and will do anything in order to see his dreams and passions materialize. You can't talk my midnight self out of much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I eventually go to sleep, and wake up my regular daytime self. And the ideas and revelations I conceived the night before seem so far away and so irrational and unattainable. My daytime self wants to be bold but is too worried about what people think about him.  He's worried about his bank account balance.  He's worried about all the things the world says he should be worried about. There's no time for revelations with all this going on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that it would literally change the world if we could somehow make our midnight self and our daytime self one. If we could let our worries and guards down and amplify our passions and revelations... It would be amazing to one night lay in bed not being able to sleep, thinking about an idea and then the next day do everything possible to execute that idea. No matter what the risk: personal, financial, status, and whatever else would fit on that list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we can slowly do this everyday. And for some people it might not be a nightime thing. It might be that when you write your ideas they are so beautiful and real but when you put down the pen, those same ideas seem unattainable. Or maybe when you talk to certain people it evokes a real, urgent passion to do something. But soon after the conversation that passion and urgency fade away and you are back to your regular self worried about regular things that the world has inflicted on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am beginning to believe that our midnight selves are a much more realistic representation of what life should be. The midnight self says, "Get out of my way", "I don't care what you think", "I can and I am going to do this". "It doesnit matter what speed bumps or obstacles come up, this is too important to let go of." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is such a beautiful idea of how life should be. It leaves us with a blank canvas and no fear or hesitation to pick up the brush and just paint.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5990322943964562545?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5990322943964562545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5990322943964562545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5990322943964562545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5990322943964562545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/12/midnight-self.html' title='Midnight Self'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-44547398615944255</id><published>2007-12-26T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T22:35:21.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Angkor...Almost</title><content type='html'>Though there are several ways to see the Angkor Temples - the famous temples in northern Cambodia - I decided that I would rent a bike and take a tour by myself. I woke up at 7:30am, and made my way over to the bike rental place. For a grand $1.50, I was able to rent what seemed like a decent bike for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was quite easy to navigate my way through Siem Reap, the city near Angkor, and make my way to the front gates of Angkor in about 1 hour. The men at the front stand said I needed to buy a ticket and pointed me in the direction I needed to go. As I was enjoying the scenery around the road, I began to hear a funny noise coming from my bike. Before I could even stop to look at it, a loud noise came from my tire and completely deflated. I quickly came to a stop and began to examine my new problem. I couldn't see anything seriously wrong with the tire so I figured it was just a hole in my inner tube. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about half way between the ticket office and the front gate and decided that I would make my way to the ticket office and see if there was someone who could help. After about 30 minutes I arrived at the ticket office and the very kind man told me to continue down the road for about 10 minutes and there would be a bike stand. I arrived at the bike stand and the man began to look at it. He immediately showed me a massive split in the tire and with his hands explained that he would have to go into town to buy a new one. So I sat there drinking my water and laughed to myself at the situation. The man eventually made it back after about 20 minutes and very quickly put the new tire and tube on. I payed him $10 dollars and with a smile said goodbye and made my way back to the ticket office. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its really not that big of a deal, right? Even so, I realized today that my patience has developed immensely since I have left the US. If this situation would have happened a year ago, I would have been on the verge of melting down. Though I wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing, without thinking about it I calmly figured out what to do and within an hour was able to get everything solved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many times has an hour meant life or death to me? - "I can't stay on this bus one more hour or I am going to go crazy", "If I stay on this plane for another hour I am going to freak out", "Do you seriously expect me to sit through this lecture for an entire hour?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really an hour is only an hour. A small hiccup in our lives. I don't think that I have ever realized how insignificant an hour is and even had the patience to understand this until now. I usually go through a day without having to wait for anything and everything happens in the timing I want it to. It's so easy for us to do that. But sometimes situations throw curve balls at us, maybe just to see how we handle it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, it takes a flat tire and an hour to really understand a small change this whole trip has had on me. I am grateful for this and I hope that it continues to work on the other flawed areas of who I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-44547398615944255?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/44547398615944255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=44547398615944255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/44547398615944255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/44547398615944255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/12/angkoralmost.html' title='Angkor...Almost'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-6663168022352499455</id><published>2007-12-22T05:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T22:38:06.578-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lepor's hand</title><content type='html'>I have been having a very difficult time trying to explain my current state of mind concerning my faith in God. For some reason, until yesterday words seems to do no justice to how I have been feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday I remembered watching a movie in Mongolia after a nice day's work of laying bricks called The Kingdom Of Heaven. The movie was alright.  It kinda dragged on a bit but was entertaining. I don't remember the exact scene or even the story line for that matter but I do remember a scene when the mother of the soon-to-be King (then a child) realized that he had leprosy and in that moment she realized that because of this he could not reign as King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That scene paints a very real picture of the way I have been experiencing my faith for nearly 6 months:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother can see the hand and feel the hand, it exists and is very real. There is no way to deny that. But when she touches the hand with a hot needle, the boy cannot feel a thing. He does not move or flinch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the same way that the mother can see and feel the hand, I know my faith is real and that the God I worship exists. There is no way to deny that. But as of recent, I feel much more like the boy. With his eyes he can see his hand and with an outside object he can touch it, but inside him at the tips of his fingers, he does not feel a thing. Much similarly, in the bottom of my heart I do not feel my faith. When the hot needle of my faith touches the fingers of my heart, I do not move and I do not flinch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a very foreign thing to me and I know that these things pass, only making one's faith stronger and more real. Its just so odd to be surrounded by the least of the least day in and day out, the true face of God, but still not feel a sense of God in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have written before, a distance in feeling does not always mean a distance in faith and I believe that God is walking next to me and carrying me when I am weak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only write this now because I feel it is important to express how we feel with honesty and it wasn't until yesterday that this was possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to all for your amazing support!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-6663168022352499455?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/6663168022352499455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=6663168022352499455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/6663168022352499455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/6663168022352499455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/12/lepors-hand.html' title='The Lepor&apos;s hand'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-373943850500712161</id><published>2007-12-12T05:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T05:58:40.608-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moments</title><content type='html'>In 10 months, there has been a handfull of times, or moments as I like to call them when I am instantly and overwhelmingly reminded that I am living my dream. That being here is exactly where I am suppose to be and everything becomes peaceful in that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I experienced another of these moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat on the top of a "junk boat" with the wind blowing in my face and the sun setting in the distance, I watched the seemingly endless and beautiiful islands that make up Ha Long Bay in northern Vietnam slowly glide by. And very softly I thought to myself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my dream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This country. This boat. These people. This is why I didnt go out to dinner twice that week. This is why I didnt by those jeans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be here.  To do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are rarely given the opportunity to actually do what our crazy minds think up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank God for this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-373943850500712161?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/373943850500712161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=373943850500712161' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/373943850500712161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/373943850500712161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/12/moments.html' title='Moments'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5015961622193118168</id><published>2007-11-29T02:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T22:39:48.121-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast With God</title><content type='html'>The week before I left Beijing, I had been craving eggs $ bacon. It wasn't a strong "go out of my way to find it" craving but it was definitely on my mind. That said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last few months I have been wrestling with God over some things I disagree with and can't get my mind around. I feel like a child who is throwing a temper tantrum because his Dad said something he didn't like. I believe we go through times when its hard to digest all that is God and when it becomes too much we shut down. We turn off. This is probably the worst thing we can do but we all do it. Its easier to stop thinking sometimes than to think things through. But it's the struggles that we work through that make us who we are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we are not struggling we are not thinking and when we are not thinking, we are not living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew this but somehow forgot it until last Sunday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sunday before I left Beijing, a couple friends of mine wanted to go get coffee and invited me. We went to a place I had never been. I didn't think much of it until the menu came. Guess what was on it - Eggs &amp; Bacon. It was like God said with a small voice "Here you go Mike. Its nothing special but I wanted you to know I was thinking about you. Hang in there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for breakfast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5015961622193118168?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5015961622193118168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5015961622193118168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5015961622193118168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5015961622193118168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/11/breakfast-with-god.html' title='Breakfast With God'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8276809215769993463</id><published>2007-11-23T00:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T22:40:06.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sarah Jane</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/R0aTP584xHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tB7sgNzM2Nc/s1600-h/Copy+of+sarajane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/R0aTP584xHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tB7sgNzM2Nc/s320/Copy+of+sarajane.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135954326526149746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/R0aTQZ84xII/AAAAAAAAAAs/Opw2lMtkxoI/s1600-h/Picture+283.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/R0aTQZ84xII/AAAAAAAAAAs/Opw2lMtkxoI/s320/Picture+283.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135954335116084354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/R0aTRJ84xJI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wu9BTHpCAx0/s1600-h/Dang+Huai+Jiao+Shang+Hai+November+2007+(70).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/R0aTRJ84xJI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wu9BTHpCAx0/s320/Dang+Huai+Jiao+Shang+Hai+November+2007+(70).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135954348000986258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8276809215769993463?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8276809215769993463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8276809215769993463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8276809215769993463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8276809215769993463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/11/sarah-jane.html' title='Sarah Jane'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/R0aTP584xHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tB7sgNzM2Nc/s72-c/Copy+of+sarajane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-181974500968272770</id><published>2007-11-18T18:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T22:41:33.779-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Names On Walls</title><content type='html'>This morning, I wrote the names of 3 children who have recently passed away on the wall of our home. I wasn't really close to these particular children and didnt even spend time with 2 of them. Either way, its a very odd and awkward thing to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Names on a wall. These children have become names on a wall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had an overwhelming feeling the last 2 months that what I was doing wasn't really making a huge difference in anything. Sure, I spend time with the kids and we have fun. Sometimes I even teach them a thing or two. But, I was beginning to feel that when I left it wouldn't make a difference to the kids and that I would leave no lasting impression through my work here in China. And, to an extent, that is very true. You can't change the world in 3 months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today I realized that the way I have been looking at this whole thing is very selfish. I have been so worried about "my" work and what differences "I" can make that I have so easily forgotten that this is not about "my" work or what "I" can do. Its about them. Yes, when I leave the kids here will forget me and I highly doubt any of them will cry because I never walk into their playroom again. But thats not really important. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realized that what is important is that they are loved. That they feel comfortable and safe. That they smile. That they laugh. That they experience happiness and joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These things are important. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-181974500968272770?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/181974500968272770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=181974500968272770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/181974500968272770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/181974500968272770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/11/names-on-walls.html' title='Names On Walls'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-8061175903029192542</id><published>2007-11-12T05:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T04:42:18.471-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valleys</title><content type='html'>Wow. I have been in China for nearly 3 months now. It seems like I just arrived from Mongolia yesterday. My time here has been more than amazing. The friends I have made and the work I have been a part of have definitely been the highlight of my trip so far. I truly cant put into words the significance of what this organization (New Hope Foundation) is doing for these kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, after 3 months, I can walk into any playroom in our home(there are 3) and I will be tackled by little rugrats before I can shut the door. I no longer need to bribe the kids with candy and chocolate to play with me. If a child catches me walking down the hall they come running at me knowing I will soon administer my signiture "tickle torture" technique on them. The nannies hand over babies to me when they are crying and to my disbelief they actually stop crying when they are in my arms. And yes, I actually changed a diaper(emphasis on "a", but it still counts). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel at home in many ways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But with all of this surrounding me, I feel as though my heart has left a mountain top and entered into a valley in a way. I have had a feeling of defeat for some time now. I cant explain why. I am surrounding by life and imagination here, but cannot capture it. Its as if the passion in my my heart has escaped me and I dont know how to get it back. I read somewhere, and have probably said this before, that "in order to get to the next mountain top, you have to go through a valley." I do believe this and acknowledge the upmost importance of the struggles of life, but that never really makes it much easier does it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in Peru, I did a 5-day trek that ended with watching the sunrise over the historic ruins of Machu Picchu. 5 days. It wasnt an Everst attempt but it was phyically trying. On the last day, we had the option of treking to the peak of Machu Picchu in the dark or taking a 15 minute bus. Me and my new friend Sergio decided we wouldnt feel right taking the bus and at 4:00am went on our merry way up the mountain. On a scale of 1-5, 1 being relatively easy and 5 being extremely strenuous, I would say the next 2 hours were about a 7. Seriously. I am not exagerating. But if we slowed down we would miss the sunrise and that, in our minds, would be a devistating thing. So we kept going. Sergio was more fit than me so I had to keep stopping to catch my breath but we eventually made it. And, luckily for us, before the sunrise. So we climbed up a couple more rocks and found a good seat to watch the sun come up over the mystical mountains of Peru. As the sun slowly crept up from behind the peaks, we looked at each other and in our eyes you could see that the trek that morning had made the sunrise even more beautiful to us. Sometimes, most the time, the climb is worth the view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im not sure how far I am into my climb out of this valley right now. Maybe an hour, maybe 2, maybe 15 minutes. Either way, I know that the sunrise at the top in going to be beauiful and I cant wait to see it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-8061175903029192542?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/8061175903029192542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=8061175903029192542' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8061175903029192542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/8061175903029192542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/11/conversationsor-lack-there-of.html' title='Valleys'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5904910510421074326</id><published>2007-05-17T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T12:51:09.812-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Force It...</title><content type='html'>Every since I found out that people actually read this thing I have been trying to write more. But...it´s been quite awhile since my last entry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could write something profound everyday but truth be told, most days I dont think about many profound things. I tried to force myself to write something the last couple of weeks but it was rubbish. I didnt even want to read it. I think somtimes it is easy to get caught in the mindset that our lives (my live) is a show. That there is an audience watching and waiting to see what happens next. And at some point this mindset can dictate our actions, good or bad, right or wrong. I am trying my hardest to not let this trip, this blog, be a show for an audience. When that happens, instead of writing honest and naked thoughts I write to impress. In this case, I might as well not write at at all...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5904910510421074326?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5904910510421074326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5904910510421074326' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5904910510421074326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5904910510421074326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/05/just-force-it.html' title='Just Force It...'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-181677611508951090</id><published>2007-05-03T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T11:20:53.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/Rjon4Gr0cAI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Jcc-fDrOwwc/s1600-h/Paola+Portugal+017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/Rjon4Gr0cAI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Jcc-fDrOwwc/s320/Paola+Portugal+017.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060400976124735490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/Rjom4Gr0b_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/XVZ7N8k-vmw/s1600-h/Paola+Portugal+014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/Rjom4Gr0b_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/XVZ7N8k-vmw/s320/Paola+Portugal+014.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060399876613107698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/RjoluWr0b-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/OHYnlFyw9Fc/s1600-h/Paola+Portugal+011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/RjoluWr0b-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/OHYnlFyw9Fc/s320/Paola+Portugal+011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060398609597755362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-181677611508951090?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/181677611508951090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=181677611508951090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/181677611508951090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/181677611508951090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/05/pictures.html' title='Pictures'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_OJVDGoXl6I4/Rjon4Gr0cAI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Jcc-fDrOwwc/s72-c/Paola+Portugal+017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-7176315754423958956</id><published>2007-04-26T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T17:20:28.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Interruptions</title><content type='html'>"Oh God, here she comes again" I thought to myself as Mai-te, my 1 1/2 yr. old housemate/Peruvian little sister came running into my room. I had just sat down to rest for a few minutes before I walked to the school I work at. Everyday Mai-te comes running into my room wanting to play exactly when I begin to lay down after lunch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not today, seriously...I just want to lay here"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, like usually her foot steps get louder and she suddenly appears in my doorway with a smile bigger than the world. She stands in the doorway until I signal for her to come to my bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She greets me with a kiss on the cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats when I was reminded of something Henry Nouwen said - Most of the things we think are interruptions in our life are actually not interruptions. These things are life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are just so busy with the real interruptions of life like a nap or work or reading or shopping that we miss life happening before our eyes. We try to power through everything else, considering anything that gets in our way an interruption. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, Mai-te started as an interruption of my nap. But in reality, my nap was the interruption. The interruption of a very simple but important human interaction. My nap was an interruption of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-7176315754423958956?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/7176315754423958956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=7176315754423958956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7176315754423958956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7176315754423958956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/04/interruptions.html' title='Interruptions'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5321919783953443601</id><published>2007-04-23T16:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T16:59:33.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Read?</title><content type='html'>The other day, I looked through the books that I have read since I have been here. As I thumbed through them, I realized that I could barely remember the plot or main subject of half the books. I thought that this was rediculous and began to get mad at myself. Why was I reading anyway? For quantity? To be able to say I have read this author or that author? It really frustrated me. Wy dont I spend more time in the street in Peru helping people instead of reading? That seemed to make more sense. as I sat there and thought about this I realized something extremely important: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesnt matter how much we read or what we read unless we let the content enter our present lives and become more than just words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that the importance of what I was reading only came to life when I let the book change me as I read it. Its ok if 2 months from now I cant tell you my favorite chapter or quote for this or that book. What is important is that I apply what I read today to my life and actions today. If I let a book change me right now, my actions will continue to reflect the most important parts of a book 2 months or 2 years from now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be worse to be able to to tell you every important part of a certain book but not have my life reflect the words in it. Whats the point of reading if we dont let the words become real? I can talk about and quote any book in the world but if my actions remain stagnant, that is when reading and learning go in vain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5321919783953443601?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5321919783953443601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5321919783953443601' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5321919783953443601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5321919783953443601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/04/why-read.html' title='Why Read?'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-7753985508054347426</id><published>2007-04-15T09:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T09:40:03.424-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Story</title><content type='html'>I have been reading a rediculous amount lately. I love the culture here in Peru very relaxing. There is always time to do whatever needs to be done. This week I read a book by Paulo Coehlo called The Zahir. It really spoke to my heart about my current state of mind. In the book, the main character meets a young man that tells him that he needs to forget his "story", or his past in order to become who he is. At the same time, I was reading a book by Brennan Manning that implied the same idea about our relationship with God. What spoke to my heart is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to stop being who we were in order to become who we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though our past experiences have helped shaped who we are, we cannot let them dictate who we are in this present time. It is dangerous to let our past failures and fears control our actions in the present. We need to forget our story and our past and allow today to be today. We need to allow who we are now to decide how we will act or react to what today presents to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day here is Peru is a new day with new experiences. But as I have said before, you dont have to be in Peru in order to realize that each day is new and has something important to teach us. If I continued to live as I was, or be who I was, I would not have half the amazing experiences I have had so far. I would not have aloud myself to be in some of the situations I have been in that have proved tp be amazing. Why? Because of my part failures and my past fears and my past pride and my past embarrassment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is today and I am who I am today. Not who I was yesterday and not who I will be tomorrow. If we continue to be who we were or allow ourselves to only think about who we will be in the future, we will continue to miss the importance of today. And what else do we really have than today?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-7753985508054347426?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/7753985508054347426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=7753985508054347426' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7753985508054347426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7753985508054347426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/04/new-story_15.html' title='A New Story'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5915274519688274169</id><published>2007-04-03T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T16:23:50.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgive Me</title><content type='html'>I have done a terrible job at posting. If anyone actually reads this, please forgive me. I will make a serious effort to write more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huancayo is amazing. Everday is different. I work in the mornings at a school for childen who cannot afford the supplies to go to public school. It is truly humbling. Today, just as I was beginning to become immune to the poverty the children live in, I was humbled yet again. Paola the other professor, and I were measuring the height of the children. One by one I took off their shoes only to see that most children were wearing no socks, socks with holes, or shoes that were to big or to small for them. I could not help but to think that the majority of the world lives in these conditions. It is truly heartbreaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all honestly, some days I feel like I am doing nothing; Like I am not making any difference. It is frsutrating, but I realize that on these days I need to listen to my heart(something that I have grown accustom to not doing) and realize that I am here for a reason bigger than my own feelings. Each day holds a "magic moment" when I have a chance to make a difference for somebody or something. Whether it small or big, I cannot let these moments pass me by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to everyone who is helping raise money for the school. You truly are blessing to these children. You dont have to fly across the world to make a difference. Thank you again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5915274519688274169?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5915274519688274169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5915274519688274169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5915274519688274169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5915274519688274169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/04/forgive-me.html' title='Forgive Me'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-3499141831799012298</id><published>2007-03-15T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T14:26:57.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Than Me</title><content type='html'>I have made it to Lima safe and sound. It is quite beautiful here. The coast is lined with cliffs and after getting lost yesterday, I stubbled upon the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean. God´s world is truly amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I got on the plane 2 days ago, I started to get worried about being alone. I hadnt felt this feeling in quite awhile. But now that I am here(granted I have only been here 2 days) I have a peace about the matter and I have faith that God is here with me. I think that there is a beauty in solitude and lonliness that drives us to be completely honest with ourselves. I am excited to see what God has in store for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my best friends wrote me a letter before I left and told me to read it on the plane. He said the most honest and encouraging sentence: Though I may have the time of my life or experience complete lonliness, this trip is not about me. He hit the nail on the head. This trip is about service, it is about helping, and most of all it is about love. I did not come here to love myself more, but to love serve the people around me. It will be vital that I remember this throughout the next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-3499141831799012298?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/3499141831799012298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=3499141831799012298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3499141831799012298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/3499141831799012298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/03/more-than-me.html' title='More Than Me'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-7929388142509162134</id><published>2007-03-10T01:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T02:07:55.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you and Farewell</title><content type='html'>I want to thank everyone who has been any part of this trip becoming a reality. Only recently have I realized that it is truly possible to make your dreams come true.  I believe now more than ever that there is more to life than living for ourselves and we can all make a difference in this world. Thank you to my family who have shown me endless support and love: This trip would not be possible without your encouragement. Thank you to all of my friends (there are to many of you to list) for your encouragement and for always cheering for my crazy ideas. Thank you for the constant lessons in generosity, honesty, friendship and love. I dedicate this trip to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could write forever about why I am taking this trip, but it most likely wouldnt make sense and would go on forever. One of my good friends, Winston Churchill, says it best: "We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lived 24 years spending most of my days trying to figure out what I want next and how I am going to get it. I am tired of living that way. I am tired of living for myself. I am slowly learning that the most important and rewarding things we do in live have nothing to do with us. And with honestly and humility, I find myself at 24 embarrassed of the selfish life I have lived. The world around me deserves more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be putting an outline of my trip with places and dates soon. I leave for Peru Tuesday, March 13. I will try to update this as much as possible with posts, recently books I have read, and music that I ahve been listing to. Please feel free to email me any time and I will try to respond as soon as possible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you again to everyone for all your help and encouragement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;table4glass@hotmail.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-7929388142509162134?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/7929388142509162134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=7929388142509162134' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7929388142509162134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/7929388142509162134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2007/03/thank-you-and-farewell.html' title='Thank you and Farewell'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7739394520757790740.post-5709544005801565198</id><published>2006-11-14T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T22:42:13.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7739394520757790740-5709544005801565198?l=thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/feeds/5709544005801565198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7739394520757790740&amp;postID=5709544005801565198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5709544005801565198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7739394520757790740/posts/default/5709544005801565198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisworldaroundme.blogspot.com/2006/11/beginning.html' title='The Beginning'/><author><name>table4glass</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244340845723393174</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
