It's a rainy day in southern California, a luxury we rarely come upon. After biking to class this morning, I tried to hide in the library to see if the rain would stop, and eventually, I had to pony up, button my sweater and bike back home in a flurry of shivers. But after changing into dry clothes, making a pot of tea, turning on some lovely rainy-day tunes to accompany the pitter-patter of the rain, and reading a little something, I am comfortably sitting here writing on my blog--what a strange word. I always find myself embarrassed to say it aloud. I like where it came from: a web log. It's like we are all posting our log entries onto a huge web for the general use of spiders everywhere. And while it is a tad embarrassing, the connection and sharing of delights outweighs my discomfort with the word.

Onwards.

I am continually finding myself in an odd state of in-betweenness, and I think I might have an idea for the reason behind this feeling of flux, but it is still brewing and not nearly finished, but I might mention it later. I feel enveloped in this world of in-betweenness in my mind with beliefs about God, humanity, the earth. I feel locked between decisions about what I will be doing this summer, what I will be doing in the fall, and even after that. I have changed my focus of study in school, and I never seem to be sure of decisions. There is little comfort in not knowing. And I don't mind be tossed about with the wind and waves; I understand that happens, but there is this invisible force or pressure, I guess, discouraging being tossed about. Our society seems to value knowing what to do, how to do it, how you want to do it--all for the purpose of progress. And yet, I am feeling more and more pulled away from this desire for progress, especially at the pace I feel pressured to move.

I wanted to put some photos up for the sharing of delights. My roommates and I decided to drive to the Redwoods up near Crescent City, California this past weekend (where I have heard that the trees go right into the ocean...sounds lovely). But, after a few hours of driving, we decided to go to a familiar place that we love. It looks a little like Narnia. There are people we care about there. . . and it cost a lot less to drive there. Here are a couple photos from the weekend: (Mariposa Grove in Yosemite)

I just want to share about my afternoon. . . because it was a lovely afternoon.

A friend and I went to the beach when the sun was going down. We went to the beach because we like running, but we are bored with running on the streets and hills around our apartment. So, at the beach, we put our backpacks down and we just started running up the beach.
I don't have shoes on and I feel so free. The sand on my bare feet, and the tide comes up and my feet get wet and I splash around. We run, and I feel good. Like I can run a marathon. I feel alive and I feel free. It smells like the ocean, the air feels like the ocean, and running feels like the perfect thing to be doing.
We run until the beach is all rocks, and we can't run any further. Growing up surrounded by land, I have spent very little time by the sea. So, we explore the tide pools. I am sure this is an incredible normal thing to do for people who live by the ocean, but I was in awe. The tide pools are breathtaking--life is just bustling. Anemones everywhere. It just looks like dirt on the rocks, but you touch them and they move... a clear sign of life. The mussels just cover the rocks and they are so strong. so strong. and a bunch of other stuff I don't know the names of. I just stared and poked my fingers and oooooed and awwwed for as long as my feet could stand the pokey rocks.
Then we ran back to our backpacks, took off a layer of clothes, and jumped in the chilly ocean. We are alive. The sand on my toes, the breath in my lungs, the water hitting against my skin as it breaks, the ocean sucking my body under and then gasping for air as I come, the laughter and joy shared with a dear friend. I am alive.


. . . speaking of oceans . . .

A friend and I were laying in the sun on the grass the other day. She looks at me and says, "If you were a part of the earth--like a feature of the earth, what would you be?" We both gave our answers and chatted about it for a while, but we both agreed we would definitely not want to be the ocean. We weren't even sure that a person could be like the ocean. There is something about it that is absolutely terrifying to me. It is mysterious, and it can seem peaceful, but it is strong and powerful. I know so little about it. It's size is enough to terrify me. And when I was swimming today and at one point I got pulled under, I was reminded of the mysterious and fear-inducing creature I was in...but at the same time, enraptured by its beauty and peace.