A change of address

I'm changing my blog address.

Wordpress is where it's at. Same gist really - just a new locale.

www.christianisalive.wordpress.com or click here

Peace yo!

Utopian Gustav

Since arriving here in America, from the very first jet lagged soaked days right up until now and I'm sure until I depart I have noticed the overt utopian nature of advertising.

Apparently if I shop at radioshack and buy one little insignificant item, the fact that I bought it at Radioshack will bring my neighbourhood - full of ballerinas and harley davidson bike riders - into a utopian bliss that harmoniously operates around...me.

If I get car insurance 'x' I'll feel 'animated' and will jump around through a cartoon nature with rabbits and bears.

I've also noticed the messages of transactional friendship in family soaps - Yank equivalents of Neighbors/Home and Away. 'I was hoping that if I told you a little about me - so that you'd tell me about you'. Blah.

Seeing this through the lens of Mark Sayers new book 'The Trouble with Paris' I'm reminded of this quote:

The more we try and ground our identities in external posessions or triumphs, the more we plaster our names on everything we can accumulate, the more we cling to surface and style, the less we find underneath.

Quite cutting really. The more energy you put to the phantom pursuits, the more faux substance found there - consequently the less energy found in depth. In the end they are only just phantom pursuits. Vanities. You can move one step closer and it gets one step further.

Now to some other news. Hurricane Gustav is hovering around Jamaica (man) right now. Projected computer models show it hitting the Gulf of Mexico by Saturday and then from there - who knows.

Put it in perspective: Tomorrow is the 3 year anniversary of hurricane Katrina. At Sam's club and Home depot (giant generic get-anything-you-want-as-big-as-you-want supermarket and the yank equivalent of Bunnings Warehouse) people were rampant buying water, gas cans, propane tanks, charcoal and batteries. This is a city on edge.

The storm may dissipate or turn west - who knows? (Carl Arrendondo from wwl 4 eye witness news is sure loving the limelight lately though - Lord that boy can talk).

Hopefully Mr Gustav decides get lost and steers clear - for now we wait and watch more of the Democratic National Convention (ha!).

P.S Geauxbama.

The Mania...Just Goes On.

Things have been quite eclectic lately - I love it.

After Portland I took a 4 day period of silence. I didn't talk (unless it was necessary) or listen to my iPod or use my computer. It was...difficult yet, very freeing and productive.

On Monday - the coffee house that we spend time at most Mondays and Fridays allowed a friend (Adam) and I to play a gig. It was fun. Followed by a sing-a-long type night with another performer who busted out such hilarious tunes as R Kelly's Ignition Remix.

Then, a new family joined us - a big welcome to the Chapmans! We emptied their moving van just outside of an hour - we hustled. And this week hails a city wide influx of college students and people return to their schools, colleges and jobs. Also the same for members of our community.

Thursday night I was taught the easy way that 3rd graders are taught calculus - seriously, by the end of 3rd grade they are differentiating (jaw drops). From high fructose corn syrup to calculus and grammar - you gotta love Ms. Rona.

Saturday we literally mowed through 6 yards and I further perfected my spaghetti sauce when cooking for a house of rowdy teenage boys (could it be on par with Mum's? Or even perhaps surpassing the saucy goodness she passed on to me?). And Andrew turned 6(!!!) - an evening full of cheese pizza, vanilla ice cream and ketchup and probably Star Wars.

So, as the Louisiana judicial system makes sure I have no felonies in this state (so I can hang out at the school and learn more calculus) and as we catch the edges of tropical storm fay - after is hovered over Florida like a stink - we all anticipate a new week with new people and new tasks.

Portland Ahoy.

So, last week was week was the CRM US national conference in Portland.

Firstly, in New Orleans for the past week it was just the singles. The families were doing donor meetings and seeing family. So this reunion at the conference was the first time in a 1-2 weeks that we had seen these guys.

It was great to see all the gang again - and also to meet and see some of those coming to join or thinking about joining Communitas New Orleans.

It was like a big family moment. One of our cabins 'D5' became the social hub of the camp. We were the 'rebels'. But I think it would be more accurate to say that everyone wanted to be like us.

I got a chance to go into Portland's CBD - beautiful city. Whilst there I went briefly into the world's largest book store (drools). Another day I also got to go out to the Columbia Gorge and Multnomah Falls - tre' pretty.

After the week of being out and about - it's nice to be back home.

The book I chew through on the plane rides was Chris Rose's '1 dead in attic'. It's a great book - it's a collection of articles he wrote covering New Orleans and his personal life Post Katrina. It really shone the light on aspects of the city that I have experienced but not yet processed. He really highlights the amazing culture here.

Now that I'm back in New Orleans - I'm going to be silent for 4 days. I'm sure that will be an interesting experience - I think not talking won't annoy me as much as no music!

That's pretty much all for now.

Peace.

Painting.

Last week, I spent a few days painting. I have developed a love/hate relationship with painting. Oil based paint drives me crazy - but, it's pretty well mindless. It's not fun, I don't get a kick out of it, I say that I hate it, but, it's really not so bad. It's just, really boring.

I've also been doing a stack of reading as part of my internship here and this last week, I revisited a book that, in many ways, began this whole journey: Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller.

The first time I read this, I shut myself into my Uncle's study, on the 2nd floor of his 100 year old house in Battery Point, Hobart. I nestled into a comfy chair and listened to Radiohead's Kid A. I read the book in less than 24 hours. I devoured it.

Given that I ate it in such a short period of time, I didn't process it as well as I would have liked - hence the revisit.

The book is basically a journal, Don's musings on Life and God. In one part he talks about his perception of God, a slot machine that he crosses his fingers, closes his eyes and pulls the lever with blind hope and how, that didn't do it for him. Also his thoughts on 'religion' - how he could walk around inside religion for a very long time and in that time, never understand on any emotional level that God is 'a person, an actual being with thoughts and feelings'.

"I could not tell a friend about a faith that didn't excite me. I couldn't share something I wasn't experiencing. And I wasn't experiencing Christianity. It didn't do anything for me at all. It felt like math, like a system of rights and wrongs and political beliefs, but it wasn't mysteries; it wasn't God reaching out of heaven to do wonderful things in my life.'

This is where is where this journey that I am now on began. I had been searching for God. I was tired of the math and scales and the, dryness. Prior to reading Blue Like Jazz, I had also picked up Max Lucado's 'Cure for the common life' - the title is...somewhat self explanatory. I was searching for, an active God. Not a lever that I pulled when things got tough. But, mystery and joy.

Like Don says, God is a God who is reaching into lives here and now. This has been the tune for my year so far. So often we can limit God reaching down into our lives to things that fit into the category of 'miraculous'. But, God is so much bigger than that. Yes, bigger.

The everyday menial things are soaked with the presence of a living, breathing, active, passionate and loving God.

I was having a killer asthma attack one day, after being prayed for it was relieved.

A successful conflict resolution.

Watching a friend being set free of self hatred.

Being able to accept a compliment and not shrug it off...for once.

My friends watching blues brothers to fundraise for me.

Going for a walk out to a cliff and watching the sunset.

Successfully navigating a group on foot through a city I didn't know without a map.

The first sip of an ice cold beer.

A cup of tea.

A friend asking about my faith.

These experiences make me turn in wonder and cry out in, fearful awe to a God that, controls everything. A God that is far from a pokie machine. A God that shows up even when I'm painting.

On This Street

The other day, on a whim, I decided to catch a street car into the French Quarter of New Orleans. I spent a few hours around there, getting some peace and quiet in a cathedral and got some work down in a coffee shop.

On my way back to catch the car out of town - a homeless guy asked me for money. So, there I am, walking down a semi seedy street, a conservative white baptist boy from down under. I had my headphones in, walking fast anyway, knowing that this might just happen. But this guy looked me square in the eyes - I couldn't get past. Admittedly, I don't think I've ever given money to a homeless guy before. I'm not sure how I pulled that off - but, I did.

This time, in light of the previous days - I couldn't not give him money. I looked at him, shook his hand and said 'follow me man, I'll buy you some food.' As we walked down the street I asked him if he was New Orleans born and raised, he pointed to the road and said 'this is my home.' Further down, he asked where I was from, I replied that I'm from 'Australia.' He offered me another hand shake. He then led me to a stereotypical corner store - he remarked on how it looks suspicious having a white guy and a black guy together. As we entered the store, his body language turned anxious. He picked up a drink and some food, looking more nervous. I decided then, to just hand over the money. I had four bucks. I left, after he said 'God Bless'.

Chances that he actually spent the money on food? I don't know. Chances he spent it on cigarettes or grog? I don't know either. But, if he did spend it on cigs, what, he could buy one deck? If he spent it on grog he could buy what, 2 beers?

I could not, say no. In our short conversation, he mentioned that his family and home were destroyed in the storm. If it was beer he was after, I don't really blame him, I'd probably want beer too if I was in his situation.

What I have noticed lately is this: I hate going from zero to one hundred. I long to learn WHY I do something the way I do, or WHY I should be doing something. This translates like this: guilt, is a bad motivator. Love however, is a good one. If guilt was my motivator for giving this guy a piece of my time and money - all I've done is appease that negative feeling (selfish?). If LOVE is my motivator - I have given in thought of his needs, not mine (selfless). Synergy of body and soul occurs. A cycle is borne, the more my values and true thoughts on an issues, such as this, progresses, the idea is that, my actions would progress also.

I may have got played, he may have bought booze. But, hey, for my first time at giving a guy money, I stopped, walked with him and talked with him. That's a long way from what I used to do. Who knows, next time, I'll be more confident (I'll admit that I was a little scared that he was going to try and mug me), so something 'more' might happen.

If I had, any, I mean, any trace of love, then I had no excuse for knocking back this guy's plea. At least, the very least, I didn't lie to him again.

Prank Calls at 2am

I'm enjoying sleep. Getting some nice R.E.M when, I am woken by my phone.

I pick it up, look at who's calling and see the ever annoying 'private number'.

So I answer, with 'what?'

Some annoying slurring fool asks 'are you awake?'
Well I answered the phone! Wingnut.

He then asks me 'what are you wearing?'

I reply with 'I'm wearing a bear suit.' He then asks if I'm wearing any draws.

So I say 'I don't know, you'll have to ask a bear' and then I hang up. He then calls me another 5 times - to which I did not reply.

I have to say, for 2am after being woken up by this plebe; I'm damn impressed with my reply.