Forgive me if this post is garbled. It was a lot to take in.
Yesterday morning around eight-thirty I was outside drinking my morning cup of coffee, pleasantly filled up on the wonderful french toast Dana had made for us for breakfast, when I hear someone from in the house calling my name. (It's still a jolt, btw, to hear "Kat" and realize that that means me.) Lin had coming looking for me, because I had told her a few days previous that I was interested in driving around and exploring the area with her.
Grass Valley, Nevada City, and all the ways between the two cities, as well as between the Sierra Friends Center, are now ours to command. It helps that Lin a.) bought a map, b.) knew how to use the map, and c.) generally remembers where she's been and which direction she came from. It does not help that a.) I'm shit with maps, b.) I kept point the correct way, but saying the wrong way, or c.) I can't handle the pressure of being the navigator. I'm perhaps being a bit dramatic, I wasn't that bad, but still. Nevada City is indeed as cute as my coworker Janey's sister had said. And Grass Valley, which I mentioned the other day as the location for the farmers' market, is just as cute but slightly bigger. We found the co-op market, Briar Patch. It's pretty much like Whole Foods Market, but not a chain (and therefore cooler? I dunno.) I finally got food! This is my happy face.
I got home and continued reading my current book of choice, Reading Lolita in Tehran. It's an amazing memoir, written by a female professor from Iran and about her time teaching there during the Revolution in the 1980's and 90's. I just finished the section where she talks about The Great Gatsby. It was amazing, very powerful. (It makes me want to read it again, I'd forgotten how much I liked it. Oh Nick and Jay and Daisy.) I'm only half way through, and can only read a bit at a time because it's so intense that I need time to digest it, but when I'm finished (and after I've researched a bit of the history of Iran; it's all a little vague for me right now), I'll be sure to write about it. A mini book report, slash review.
Today... today was interesting. (I shouldn't say was, it's only half way through.) As one of only two people responsible for conveying what exactly the Woolman Semester is to prospective students, and how that ties into the community as one big package, and then having to convince those people on top of it that this is an experience they don't want to miss out on... I am trying to experience as much of this community as I can, in order to better talk about it to others. So in that line of thought, I went to a Meeting for Worship today, which is the Quaker form of church.
I should clarify here that there are two sects of the Quaker religion: planned and unplanned. I doubt that those are the official terms used to describe the two, but they are the colloquial phrases I was given. Planned, I was told, is more along the lines of the conventional definition of church. There is a pastor, he gives a sermon, you sit and listen, etc. etc. Unplanned is exactly that, unplanned. No pastor, no sermon, just sitting and listening to the silence. I think this may just be an aspect of the unplanned sect, but a phrase I have heard in conjunction alot is "There is that of God in everyone." In accordance with that, a community member might stand up and speak, when they feel the need to share something that is on their mind. After they're finished, they'll sit down in yet more silence, until someone else feels the need to share. Sierra Friends Center is unplanned.
The meeting for worship was at 9:45, so five minutes before then I walked the two hundred yards from my house to the Meeting House, where the entire community gathers every Sunday. I walked in and sat down into silence. Absolute silence. I heard someone breathing deeply, I heard the clock ticking on the wall, the sprinkler system outside (which worked to the exact beat of the clock), and I heard two children to my right whispering to each other. People smiled in greeting, but no one said a word. I believe we all sat in complete silence for a good thirty-five minutes before someone stood up.
I'm going to butcher this story, because it was several hours ago and I have a horrible memory, but I will try. The man who stood first was an older gentleman, perhaps in his seventies, and he started talking about a biography he's reading on a Palestinian poet. In the 1940's he had tried to return home to the West Bank, but was denied access to his home land. He had been labeled a terrorist. So he traveled Europe, from country to country, as a well-known, widely respected poet for over three decades before he was finally allowed to return home. He was overjoyed to return to his community, to his people. He saw the lines of worry and age on their faces, worn from the hard times, but nothing filled him with more joy than to be among them again. Soon after he had returned, someone asked him what the most beautiful thing he'd seen since returning home, and he replied with two words: "Your faces."
Here the man paused in his story (it's amazing to me, how unawkward silence is among people who savour it), before starting to talk about his trip to meeting this morning. He said, "I was thinking about this poet on the drive here today, watching my surrounding as we passed by. Here we are in California. Beautiful California, with it's sunshine and mountains, the trees, golden and green, the beautiful Yuba River... and what's the most beautiful thing I've seen today? Your faces."
Another man stood, Doug (who's extremely nice and very funny), and talked about Jesus' philosophy of "loving thy enemy, but turning the other cheek", and how that translates in Quaker philosophy. Of not turning your cheek, of having enough love in your heart to accept other people's troubles as your own. A woman shared a little anecdote of friendship, when Kwong (another member of the community) had shown up when she was gardening with an ice cream cone for her.
There was so much silence. It was interesting, to say the least. I'm still kind of digesting it. I don't really know what to think about having so much time to think, and in the presence of other people. I'll get back to you on that note.
Afterwards, I met up with Lin, Kate, and Coleman and we headed over to Grass Valley for Shana's Capoeira gathering. I've decided that Capoeira is pretty much the coolest thing ever. It's an African form of martial arts, created when they were enslaved in Portugal. They weren't allowed weapons or given any means to defend themselves, but also weren't allowed to practice martial arts to defend themselves with their bodies. So they disguised it as dancing. I think the best way I can think of describing Capoeira is as a mixture of dance, karate, break dancing, and acrobatics. It was absolutely nuts. I took a video of a couple people, so I'll try and post that on youtube or something when (as I've said before) I get my own computer.
Now here I am, updating the blog, before running off with Lin to make toast & jam (with this amazing raspberry jam I bought at a roadside market), as well as guacamole with the fresh produce we bought yesterday at the Co-op. Yumm.
Grass Valley, Nevada City, and all the ways between the two cities, as well as between the Sierra Friends Center, are now ours to command. It helps that Lin a.) bought a map, b.) knew how to use the map, and c.) generally remembers where she's been and which direction she came from. It does not help that a.) I'm shit with maps, b.) I kept point the correct way, but saying the wrong way, or c.) I can't handle the pressure of being the navigator. I'm perhaps being a bit dramatic, I wasn't that bad, but still. Nevada City is indeed as cute as my coworker Janey's sister had said. And Grass Valley, which I mentioned the other day as the location for the farmers' market, is just as cute but slightly bigger. We found the co-op market, Briar Patch. It's pretty much like Whole Foods Market, but not a chain (and therefore cooler? I dunno.) I finally got food! This is my happy face.
I got home and continued reading my current book of choice, Reading Lolita in Tehran. It's an amazing memoir, written by a female professor from Iran and about her time teaching there during the Revolution in the 1980's and 90's. I just finished the section where she talks about The Great Gatsby. It was amazing, very powerful. (It makes me want to read it again, I'd forgotten how much I liked it. Oh Nick and Jay and Daisy.) I'm only half way through, and can only read a bit at a time because it's so intense that I need time to digest it, but when I'm finished (and after I've researched a bit of the history of Iran; it's all a little vague for me right now), I'll be sure to write about it. A mini book report, slash review.
Today... today was interesting. (I shouldn't say was, it's only half way through.) As one of only two people responsible for conveying what exactly the Woolman Semester is to prospective students, and how that ties into the community as one big package, and then having to convince those people on top of it that this is an experience they don't want to miss out on... I am trying to experience as much of this community as I can, in order to better talk about it to others. So in that line of thought, I went to a Meeting for Worship today, which is the Quaker form of church.
I should clarify here that there are two sects of the Quaker religion: planned and unplanned. I doubt that those are the official terms used to describe the two, but they are the colloquial phrases I was given. Planned, I was told, is more along the lines of the conventional definition of church. There is a pastor, he gives a sermon, you sit and listen, etc. etc. Unplanned is exactly that, unplanned. No pastor, no sermon, just sitting and listening to the silence. I think this may just be an aspect of the unplanned sect, but a phrase I have heard in conjunction alot is "There is that of God in everyone." In accordance with that, a community member might stand up and speak, when they feel the need to share something that is on their mind. After they're finished, they'll sit down in yet more silence, until someone else feels the need to share. Sierra Friends Center is unplanned.
The meeting for worship was at 9:45, so five minutes before then I walked the two hundred yards from my house to the Meeting House, where the entire community gathers every Sunday. I walked in and sat down into silence. Absolute silence. I heard someone breathing deeply, I heard the clock ticking on the wall, the sprinkler system outside (which worked to the exact beat of the clock), and I heard two children to my right whispering to each other. People smiled in greeting, but no one said a word. I believe we all sat in complete silence for a good thirty-five minutes before someone stood up.
I'm going to butcher this story, because it was several hours ago and I have a horrible memory, but I will try. The man who stood first was an older gentleman, perhaps in his seventies, and he started talking about a biography he's reading on a Palestinian poet. In the 1940's he had tried to return home to the West Bank, but was denied access to his home land. He had been labeled a terrorist. So he traveled Europe, from country to country, as a well-known, widely respected poet for over three decades before he was finally allowed to return home. He was overjoyed to return to his community, to his people. He saw the lines of worry and age on their faces, worn from the hard times, but nothing filled him with more joy than to be among them again. Soon after he had returned, someone asked him what the most beautiful thing he'd seen since returning home, and he replied with two words: "Your faces."
Here the man paused in his story (it's amazing to me, how unawkward silence is among people who savour it), before starting to talk about his trip to meeting this morning. He said, "I was thinking about this poet on the drive here today, watching my surrounding as we passed by. Here we are in California. Beautiful California, with it's sunshine and mountains, the trees, golden and green, the beautiful Yuba River... and what's the most beautiful thing I've seen today? Your faces."
Another man stood, Doug (who's extremely nice and very funny), and talked about Jesus' philosophy of "loving thy enemy, but turning the other cheek", and how that translates in Quaker philosophy. Of not turning your cheek, of having enough love in your heart to accept other people's troubles as your own. A woman shared a little anecdote of friendship, when Kwong (another member of the community) had shown up when she was gardening with an ice cream cone for her.
There was so much silence. It was interesting, to say the least. I'm still kind of digesting it. I don't really know what to think about having so much time to think, and in the presence of other people. I'll get back to you on that note.
Afterwards, I met up with Lin, Kate, and Coleman and we headed over to Grass Valley for Shana's Capoeira gathering. I've decided that Capoeira is pretty much the coolest thing ever. It's an African form of martial arts, created when they were enslaved in Portugal. They weren't allowed weapons or given any means to defend themselves, but also weren't allowed to practice martial arts to defend themselves with their bodies. So they disguised it as dancing. I think the best way I can think of describing Capoeira is as a mixture of dance, karate, break dancing, and acrobatics. It was absolutely nuts. I took a video of a couple people, so I'll try and post that on youtube or something when (as I've said before) I get my own computer.
Now here I am, updating the blog, before running off with Lin to make toast & jam (with this amazing raspberry jam I bought at a roadside market), as well as guacamole with the fresh produce we bought yesterday at the Co-op. Yumm.