Not Radical?

Jouni doesn't see me as radical at all. He sees me as Nice. Compassionate. Caring.

Lessons on Guilt

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by how much I have. Not in a positive, "oh I'm so blessed, I should be thankful" way, but in a "I'm a horrible person, how dare I?" way. I am graduating from the private sheltered small liberal-arts Presbyterian Whitworth in three short weeks. Hopefully with a BA and a few minors :)

I will go home this summer. To fill myself with fresh fruit and sunshine, before I embark on my next great Leaving. This time I will leave for Toronto Canada. A metropolitan city of 4 million, of theatre, of diversity, of ethnic food, and of Romero House, where I will be working and living. working for a small stipend, and free room and board. working for justice, hope, redemption. Working for the families I have yet to meet. The mentors from whom I have yet to learn.

I will live in community. live in balance, i hope oh i hope.

. i forgot . first I will fly across the Atlantic to spend two short weeks visiting various friends in various European locations. i have been saving. i have saved. i am going to Europe, and refuse to be a tourist.

i will go to Europe. i will have been in Europe. i will have taken a small sample of a few small places. so that next time, I will Know. what I want: what i want to see, to do, to experience, to remember.

how much money to save for the Next Time.

With all these exciting possibilities, adventures, journeys ahead of me. I feel tormented sometimes by people who I grew up alongside who are in Fresno. who will return to Fresno and be happy (or not). Paulo says once you leave, you'll never come back the same. Opportunities will keep coming up, different doors will be opened. and I will wander further and further from my roots. and I will be independent (or selfish, depending on your perspective).

but on the other hand. I've always been like that.

"neeny do it self" i said as a toddler. neeny do it self. neeny go out into the world and do what she's gonna do all by her self. i left computech for rsa. i left roosevelt for whitworth. i'm leaving whitworth for Toronto. i don't do things the way most people do. sometimes its to my own detriment, but I like it this way.... apparently.

without sensing his/her own irony, someone told me once that "to whom much is given, much is expected".

.

I am ridiculously lucky to be able to imagine ways to go new places, and have the luxury of being able to live out whatever crazy idea I dream up and go for. no babies to tie me down. no parents dependent on my income. no boy that i would need to follow. and i trust my instincts (and this Jesus guy when I really think about it) enough to GO without a whole lot of fear or trepidation. i won't know anyone in Toronto, but I will meet so many amazing people, so why would that scare me? live alongside social justice heroes. and RealLife Heroes who manage to make it to Canada alive. live deeply. richly. in a temporary community. for a year. and maybe some months after that. and then go forward to my next exciting adventure. we'll see what it is once the time gets closer.

Jane Addams (by Gwendolyn Brooks)

I am Jane Addams.

I am saying to the giantless time -

to the young and yammering, to the old and corrected,

well, chiefly to children coming home

with worried faces and questions about world-survival-

"Go ahead and live your life.

You might be surprised. The world might continue."

It was not easy for me, in the days of the giants.

And now they call me a giant.

Because my capitals were Labour, Reform, Welfare,

Tenement Regulation, Juvenile Court Law (the first),

Factory Inspection, Workmen's Compensation,

Woman Suffrage, Pacifism, Immigrant Justice.

And because

Black, brown, and white and red and yellow

heavied my hand and heart.

I shall tell you a thing about giants

that you do not wish to know:

Giants look in the mirror and see

almost nothing at all.

But they leave their houses nevertheless.

They lurch out of doors

to reach you, the other stretchers and strainers.

Erased under ermine or loud in tatters, oh,

money or mashed, you

matter.

You matter, and giants

must bother.

I bothered.

Whatever I was tells you

the world might continue. Go on with your preparations,

moving among the quick and the dead;

nourishing here, there;

pressing a hand

among the ruins

and among the

seeds of restoration.

So Speaks a giant. Jane.

ps from Christine: check out this amazing woman's wikipedia entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Addams

It is April, and I am so tired. I have been going and going and going for so long, and I haven't breathed in so long. I am moving to Toronto soon, so in my limited spare time, my brain has been exploding with possibilities of a new life.

Today I went to church to hear Whitworth women's choir. Their voices were beautiful, but all I could do in the stillness of listening was to cry. I am so tired. I need to sleep. I need to rest. I need to come back in touch with the core of my identity.

I also need to plan a fundraiser for iClub, to write a few more papers this week, to plan a bachelorette party, to run elections and do the rechartering stuff for iClub, to attend a meeting with Women's Auxiliary, to go to all my classes, to figure out budget stuff, to work 10-12 hours a week so I don't need to leave home this summer to work, to read GD papers, and of course, my normal reading and homework.

I can't survive by just doing that necessary stuff.

I need relationship and community,

so this week I also need to have coffee with friends whom I love, I need to eat chilean food at Global Hearth, I need to reconnect with people feeling abandoned and unloved by me, and I need to start doing my "last time to ________" activities all over spokane.

.

Today in the car, we were talking about Christianity. I made the preposterous claim that with God, I don't need to be perfect, that I can give other people grace, and receive grace from them when I fall short. And that I don't need other people to satisfy my needs, that I can somehow rest in a greater identity of Christ.

.

Its true.

but why do I need to do all these things then?

.

grace and truth.

love,

Christine

Emotions of starting something NEW

So, I have been offered and have accepted a paid internship in Toronto Canada for September 2010-August 2011. I'm moving to Canada. I, Christine, am moving, to live, in Canada. for a year.

This feeling reminds me of when I whizzed through customs in London. I feel like I'm tricking the world into thinking I'm an adult. And that there's no way it should be this easy. But it's real and its happening.

I'm looking at grad programs too. I want to look into Diaspora and Transnational Studies. SO COOL. SO CUTTING EDGE in such a nerdy political science way. Most of the programs are just starting, but are starting based on a perceived need. University of Toronto has a cool multidisciplinary master's program (and phD, too). and i found a cool PhD program in Berlin. UMass-Amherst is starting a program too. I could write my doctorate thesis in Political Science, with my own personal specialization being this stuff, anywhere tho. but MA program in this would be so cool first.

. . .

A friend from high school found me on facebook recently.

Classmate: I go to fcc. I'm working on my liberal studies degree..now. u? Yeah, i help out at my dad's restaurant :) u should stop by someday

April 1 at 9:57pm ·

Me:

yeah, i'm up in washington state right now, but i will for sure stop by this summer. i'm getting an international studies degree right now. its kinda political science, but focused on the whole world

April 1 at 10:11pm ·

Classmate:

that's great! how is the apple state? :} yeah, let me know a few weeks in advance, so i can reserve a spot for. Sounds good, sounds so miss Barker like :}

April 1 at 10:18pm ·

Classmate:

JK

let me know a few hours in advance :}

April 1 at 10:20pm ·

Me:) washington is cold and cloudy. most of the time. and the fruit doesn't taste nearly as good as fruit at home does. i miss fresno a lot. but school is school so i keep going. and i'll for sure let you know when miss barker wants to stop by.

April 1 at 10:43pm ·

Classmate:

i love that kind of weather. I don't like the summer much, i'm like get away from mr. sun and go hide behind that tree :P but i would not be able to survive without good produce. i'm a valley girl, don't you know :) miss fresno? afd joke? lol, but, yeah, i understand, ur family and loved ones r here. But miss barker needs to do her thang before she steps back into little old fresno ;)

I dunno how I feel about that. On one hand, hey, I'm making it in the real world. The non-Fresno, non-ghetto, non-valley world. Most of my class couldn't even graduate high school. I'm now looking at international PhD programs.

I feel really guilty. and i feel really blessed and really lucky.

so so lucky.

I've gotten such a good education here. I've learned a lot. I can get papers back with 100% grades. With the exception of this year, I've been mostly miserable here. I don't fit here.

but I don't fit at home with this classmate anymore. She called me miss barker. miss barker who makes reservations at the Italian restaurant her parents own. I mean. I was an RSA kid when I was at Roosevelt. but I had friends that were RHS. I talked to people in all my classes. I didn't sit by the other RSA kids mostly.

miss barker need to do her thang before she steps back into little old fresno

it kinda breaks my heart.

Five Poems of Home

Love is an orange
twisted off the highest
branch of the backyard tree
by a tall boy balanced
on the roof of the barren doghouse
on our last foggy morning

* * *

he left the low fruit hanging, so my mama
could reach them dangling and dancing in the fog.
Her bad back is alone right now, aching. She is sipping
weak coffee at the leaf-less table, playing sudoku

as she swallows a slice of the juiciest orange imaginable.


* * *


Unpalatable oranges are sold in Spokane. they must be bought
by people who have never tasted truth.
our Oranges spray sacred oil, dress our palms
as their unshriveled sweet flesh is broken
for you to imbibe with joy and thanks.

These shrunken oranges are not to blame.

I would be sour, too, after bouncing a thousand miles in a crowded box,
to emerge into florescent lights of safeway, no fog to call my own.

* * *

(dreaming of home, salivating over fresh fruit
What are endless rows of orange trees in a foggy orchard
when a sunny false spring has arrived in Spokane?)

* * *

we filled brown paper bags with love, to sustain us on our journey,
or bequeath on future hosts. Speeding through orchards on 99,
the perfume of his quiet peeling saturated the air. The orange exhaled
oils with each peel, anointing his hands with travelling mercies.
I was driving north, away from home; eating one segment
of sweetness after another. and I don't remember when the fog cleared.

can you tell the sun was shining today?

I have found my Whitworth rhythm. Meetings start at 8am, and flamingo flocking ends at 11pm.

I write agendas, call people to remind them, go to class and do most of my readings.

and I am happy.

The last two days have been filled with thoughts on identity (individual and collective)

This is my time. I am here right now to ask all the questions that I need to ask, and respectfully listen for answers from people with life-wisdom. It is liberating.

I am so thankful for: Amowi, Esther, Doug, and Vic

because they take me seriously.

also: this boy who wrote me a 9 page letter

because he makes more sense than most of the world combined.

also: Laurie's classes

because she offers legitimacy to our experiences and perceptions. which is beautiful and also freeing.

also: WU trippers

because they are great, and because of ninja team names

and because of the dedication that the planning team has put into this crazy project.

. . .

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

. . .