Flowers And Stuff

I called it scenery, just because I wasn't sure what other label would work. Turns out, though, that it's primarily architecture... sorry if you were hoping for anything else. In any case, here are some of the pictures:

The Colosseum and somebody's arch.




The Trevi Fountain. If you plan to use a tripod there, try not to let the police see it. Whoops.




The Forum.

You can see the other ones here. It's probably worth saying, though, that the pictures aren't all up yet - more are loading as I speak...

Come Here Often?

I was going through security at the airport this morning, and a woman in line in front of me got up to the checkpoint and seemed a little unsure about what she needed to do. She had her liquids in a plastic bag, but didn't take them out of her carry-on until the security guard asked her to. She kept her jacket on until the guard told her that she needed to take it off to send it through the scanner. She seemed a bit confused and, by the end, more than a little flustered.

Half-joking, and half-serious, I silently wondered, "is this the first time she's done this?". Her general appearance and the way she had packed indicated that she wouldn't be a stranger to the whole process, yet she was clearly having some trouble.

It did slow down the line a little, but I had time. It was busier than usual, but that meant that today there were 5 people in front of me at security when I got there, so it really wasn't a big deal.

It made me think again, though, about how air travel is such a normal part of my life. I usually take a couple of flights a week. I know the airport pretty well. I know the guy at the coffee place here, and the passport guys in Lugano know me by sight. I'm ready for passport control before I get in the line. I'm ready for the security check by the time I get to the conveyer. I have the things I'll have with me in my seat separated out before I get on the plane so I don't hold up the people behind me putting my luggage into the bin. This is just part of my life.

I guess I'm just used to it.

And it made me think about what else I've gotten used to, at one time or another.

I've gotten used to praying without really expecting an answer. I've gotten used to having a few sins that I indulge in, which have become rather constant companions. I've gotten used to feeling like there's not much point in challenging the people around me to live any differently than they're living. I've gotten used to hearing lies about myself and accepting them as truth.

Our bodies have a way of protecting themselves. If you walk into a room with a bad smell and stay, after a while your brain just stops acknowledging it. The thing that's causing the smell is still there - it's no better - and those little particles are still traveling into your nose and doing their thing, but your brain just won't continue to respond to that same stimulus. And spiritually, we seem to have a similar way of working... once we get used to things we shouldn't be comfortable with, we go numb, unable to recognize what may be a very real and present danger. We may even be suspicious of people who try to point it out.

"Of course the room doesn't stink," we say. "I can't smell anything."

And that, of course, is the problem: I really can't smell anything. If I don't find a reason to get myself out of the room to clear my senses or trust someone who can still smell, it will never get better, and what I'm immersed in but no longer able to recognize may hurt me or even kill me. And I guess that's why we need to live in community. I guess that's why I need people in my life who are willing to tell me that something stinks, whether I can smell it or not. And I guess that's part of why I want to be that kind of person: one who is not so immersed in the smell that it becomes a normal part of life, but one who is not afraid to head into the stink when I need to.

Business In The Front, Party In The Back

This may be my favorite description of the mullet.



But that's not what I want to talk about.

I sometimes feel that way... that the business part of me and the party part of me have trouble coexisting, and I have to choose one or the other.

You see, I've realized that, at times, I can become a little preoccupied with what I'm doing, and it affects how I treat people. I start to focus on what I need to get done, and everything else kind of fades back a bit, and I think I've noticed it the most in two places: work, and church.

At work, it kind of makes sense. I'm there for a reason, and my company (or my client) expects me to be efficient in what I'm doing. And I'm not unfriendly with people around me, but I have noticed that I do start by diving right into something... I walk over to someone's desk and say, "I have a question for you."

Or, I guess, to be more precise I have noticed that other people don't do this. It usually goes something like this:

Me: "I have a question for you."
Other person: "Hi Darryl! How are you? How was your weekend?"
Me: "Good. Look, when we're doing the valuation in the past I think there's a problem with how the accrued interest is being..."
Me [pausing, look of realization slowly spreading over my face as the other person nods and smiles]: "Uh, how are YOU doing?"

And the other place is at church. I know this shouldn't happen here, but when we show up, I usually need to get the drums set up and fine-tuned, make sure the sound guy is taking care of my monitor, figure out if there are any tricky bits in the music (since I wasn't at the practice), all while keeping the little chick happy and waiting for someone to be in the crêche to look after her and the other young 'uns.

She likes the crêche. She likes the toys, she likes the kids, she likes the people who look after her there. But she is also a very, very alert girl, and I know that she will know when the service is over. I may not be the first parent through the door, but I better be the second, because when it's over, she's ready to be with me.

And then she's ready to go home.

Now I would imagine this will change, and I've already seen it getting better, but while I'm trying to do the reverse of what I went through when I arrived (to get all the drum stuff cleaned up) while keeping her happy and not pounding out a monster beat on the floor tom... what can I say, she comes by it honestly... is no small task. And then her favorite words become "Go!" and "Outside!" and "Our house!". So we usually make a rather mad dash, hoping to at least say hi to a lot of people I really care about, to get on the road and off to lunch, a nap, and all of that good stuff.

So if I've brushed you off with a somewhat frantic look in my eye while carrying a snare drum in one hand and a two year-old pointing at the door in my other, it's nothing personal, believe me.

And it could be worse; I could have a mullet.

Alinghi

I got home in time to catch a few minutes of the America's Cup race this evening... it doesn't look good for our heroes - Alinghi is down 2-1. Of course, I have no idea how many legs there are to the race... maybe it's like snooker where they have a best of 31 or something, so the danger is not quite as dark as I may fear.

I think I may have tuned in at a bad time. I've watched it before and found it pretty interesting... of course, that was with English (rather than Italian) commentary. But while I was watching today, I didn't even know they were racing. They guys in the boat were just sitting there. They weren't even sitting hanging over the side. They were just watching the water.

It made me wonder... how would you feel if you were in this world championship kind of thing, had been working for a year to qualify, and, because of whatever wind conditions or the layout of the course or something, you ended up mostly just sitting on the side of the boat trying to figure out if you were ahead or the other guys were? I mean, I'm a team-spirit kind of guy - I really am. But I can't help thinking I'd feel a little disappointed. It's like sitting on the bench while your team wins the Stanley Cup. Sure, you still get to carry around the trophy and probably have a nice bonus coming, but you would feel a little out of place being, say, the only one not sweating at all.

In any case, Hop Suisse! Bring it home again, Alinghi boys. You show them: there's nothing that a whole lot of money can't do.

Up With People

It's been a great weekend. I had some good time with the little chick, but also had some time to be with old friends, to meet new ones, and to explore a really, really wide variety of relationships. Between having a couple different groups in for dinner, hitting the Swiss rugby finals, giving some coaching on sound engineering for our church sounds crew and then spending some time with a friend tonight, it's been a really social time... and I've loved it. Not much time to take pictures, mixer is still in the shop, but it's been great just to think about the wide variety of people that I have in my life, and the richness it brings.

I'm pretty tired now, and need to call my dad (cause it's Fathers' Day), but I'm left with this kind of residue from the contact I've had with some very wonderful people over the last few days that is very special. It feels like it's kind of sticking to me... the conversations are over, the meals are finished, but the "why" in response to so many things - why I choose to spend my time and energy the way I do, perhaps why I am here (in Geneva) or here (earth), why it matters - is just a little more solid than it was before. And that's a good thing.

Sports And Genetics And God

*Spoiler*

This isn't really about science as much as it sounds from the title. If you want science, you should probably keep on looking.

*End spoiler*

I'm watching snooker.

And here's the thing - I know who the guys are who are in it - when they show the last names, I know the first names. I can picture some of them. I know that the World Championship is called "The Crucible" because it's held in the Crucible Theater (or maybe the other way around - I'm not obsessed). And I'm sad that Stephen Hendry is out. He's my favorite snooker-er, perhaps because he kind of looks like a wolf when he's leaning over his cue to make a shot... VERY cool eyes. And, let's face it: when you're deciding which snooker-er to root for, how much like a wolf his eyes look is just as good a criterion as anything else.

Probably more of you than would like to are aware of how I feel about what is called a "sport" and what's included in the Olympic program (I'm building momentum - slowly - for a place on the IOC), and there is no way snooker is a sport. But it's really hard. The tables are huge, the pockets are small... I remember playing snooker with Brock a couple times on a normally-sized pool table with somewhat more generous pockets, and it was still tough. I can't do it. So I kind of like watching these guys who are absolute masters at it... they make it look so easy, and I wouldn't even know the difference if I hadn't tried it myself.

So that makes me think about things I've tried that have turned out to be far more difficult than I would have expected:

• Throwing pottery (though it would have helped if they would have told me the wheel went the other way for left-handed people on the first day)
• Golf (also not a sport)
• Math (what's up with that, anyway?!?)
• Keeping my daughter in the same country I'm in
• Speaking (include reading, writing, and understanding) French
• Finding decent prints of Flemish Primitives (yeah, it's a Wikipedia day)
• Or, on a related note, painting

Conversely, there are some things that have been much easier than it seems like they should have been. Not that I've mastered these, but I probably do better at them than I should, given my training and knowledge:

• Drumming (really - you just count to 4 over and over and try not to get faster)
• Public speaking (a lot like normal speaking, but hopefully more people are listening)
• Photography (though, as a friend mentioned a couple weeks ago when seeing the lens I was using, "oh, that's why your pictures look so good!")
• Writing (in English, thanks)
  

But here's the really odd part - prayer, for me, has been in both of these categories at one time or another. Much more often in the first one, unfortunately, but not always. And as I've been reading about it, and thinking about it, and studying it, and doing it to be able to speak coherently about it at YAGS, I've been mystified by how it can be, at the same time, the simplest and most mystical thing I do most days. As easy as breathing. As difficult as requiring God to die to make it possible. Sometimes involuntary, sometimes demanding an act of will that seems to go against everything inside me.

I'm tempted to concoct some thin analogy relating prayer to the snooker match that's on, but I need to go. Maguire is just finishing up a century, and I need to watch.

Pride (In The Name Of Love?)

I saw a homeless guy on the walk home from - of all places - church today. Maybe you know the one... fairly young guy, carries his stuff in a golf cart (not the one like a go-kart, the kind you pull along behind you).

I had some fruit in my bag for the little chick, and I thought maybe I should offer it to him. But I didn't.

I've tried offering food to people on the street a few times... in Geneva, in Calgary, and in Toronto, and it's been refused every time. Sometimes it's been unsealed - a sandwich from my lunch - but sometimes it's been food still packaged as I walk home from the grocery store. I'm not sure exactly why everyone I've offered it to has turned me down... I never asked, and they never volunteered. But it bothers me that I've let it stand in the way of doing something that I think I should probably do, from showing a little bit of love to someone who, whether or not he's in the mood for a banana, could probably use some love.

Am I that fragile, that I can't take being told "no" when I offer something to a stranger? Is it that these are people who, I figure, should be happy to get what I'm giving them, and so I reduce them to a caricature, without the dignity of real choice? I'm not sure where it comes from, but it saddens me. I wish I would have just offered him the fruit. It's a little late now.

Quote Of The Day

"Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One
Who is leading."

More easily said than done, but worth holding on to, even at that.


Oswald Chambers, My Utmost For His Highest

Top Ten Signs You've Just Had A Good Dinner

At Eva's request, photo courtesy of Janette. For a little bit of context, this was after our 20 km day, after waiting 4 hours to eat, after a starter of tuna carpaccio, a plate of grilled vegetables, and enough fried seafood to satisfy several people who really like fried seafood.

Oh yeah, and just before chocolate/hot pepper gelato. Yeah, baby!

On My Mind

I've had three strong themes on my mind, lately: surrender, truth, and wisdom. I'm still feeling out how they fit together, but the more I study and reflect the more certain I am that these are things I need to continue to pursue with passion and abandon. I'll be writing more about this over the days to come, but here are some of the things that have been spurring on my reflections...

Remember Surrender (Sara Groves)

Remember surrender, remember the rest
Remember that weight lifting off of your chest
And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was

Remember surrender, remember relief
Remember how tears rolled down both of your cheeks
As the warmth of a heavenly father came closing in

I want to do that again

Nobody Loves Me (Derek Webb)

Well I can always tell a liar and I always know a thief
Well I know I’m like my family because brother I’m the chief
Well I’m a dangerous crusader ‘cause I need to tell the truth
So I’m turnin’ over tables in my own living room

But I might nail indictments up on every door in town
‘Cause its not right or safe to let your conscience down
So i don’t care if

Nobody loves me
Nobody loves me
Nobody loves me...but you

‘Cause the truth is never sexy
So it’s not an easy sell
Well you can dress her like the culture
And she’ll shock ‘em just as well

And she don’t need an apology
For bein’ who she is
And she don’t need your help makin’ enemies
So i don’t care if

Nobody loves me, but you

Proverbs 1:1-7 (Solomon)

1 The proverbs of Solomon son of David, king of Israel:

2 for attaining wisdom and discipline;
for understanding words of insight;

3 for acquiring a disciplined and prudent life,
doing what is right and just and fair;

4 for giving prudence to the simple,
knowledge and discretion to the young-

5 let the wise listen and add to their learning,
and let the discerning get guidance-

6 for understanding proverbs and parables,
the sayings and riddles of the wise.

7 The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge,
but fools despise wisdom and discipline.

Sorry

I just realized that, for every six visits to this page, one person has gone on to have a look at my profile. A profile that has been pretty empty. And pretty static.

It must have been a bit of a let-down.

So, I've updated it a little bit, and I'll try to do that periodically. They even have the ability to generate random questions to answer to keep things fresh. These questions are eerily similar to the ones Natalie furnishes for the welcome dinners, but I'm the only one who gets to answer them, unfortunately.

In the meantime...

Likes: ice cream, walks on the beach, sunsets, puppies*

Dislikes: rude people, traffic jams






*especially sweet and sour

The Dangers Of Self-Medicating

Today, I squirted eye drops up my nose.

It was bound to happen eventually, I guess. I've had a cold for a while, and while it hasn't been too bad in my throat or chest, I'm dealing with a lot of congestion that I would rather not deal with. I reached for what I thought was a bottle of Otrivin, wandered off to a place where I could use it as directed without losing friends or facing ridicule around the office. When I squirted and snorted, though (and yes, now would be an appropriate time for you to stop and picture that happening), I realized that something was wrong. None of that nasty Otrivin-y flavour in the back of my throat, and certainly nothing that would hint at a lessening of the Manhattan-at-rush-hour kind of congestion in my sinuses.

It could have been worse, I guess. I would rather not think about what Otrivin in my eyes would feel like. I'm not sure, but I can't picture it being good. So this was a wake-up call for me; from now on, I will positively identify anything that I intend to squirt into my body and then double-check to be sure I have the correct orifice lined up. Take a lesson, kids, and don't let this happen to you.