Soul Meets Body

So it has been a rather significant week. I know we have a lot to cover, but only so much time to speak. Oh, and for those of you who are somewhat confused by the non-Switchfoot title, I mentioned last week that I was listening to Death Cab for Cutie, and this song seemed most appropriate for the week. I seem to severely enjoy listening to this group, but the blog could easily change two posts from now with a new artist.

The events of the last week have made quite an impact on me to say the least. These three things seem to help trigger my memory best: a box of sidewalk chalk, a roof, and hope.

Let's start with the sidewalk chalk. You see, one of my classes required us to do a project that challenges our community. The project was completely open to interpretation, as long as it wasn't violent or a danger to the public. I decided that today's news and media seems to only report relatively violent or depressing stories, and I was going to challenge that. And although these stories may be true, there was just not enough messages of hope or stories about our heroes.

So what did I do? I bought a box of sidewalk chalk and began writing a message of hope to my community. I made a point about how the news of today seems to only report on subjects such as war, disease, family violence, poverty, and shootings. I asked my community that despite all this, we cannot give up hoping, even if we are at the end of our ropes. We need to remember the little things that keep us going; because something as simple as the wind blowing reminds us that the world is still turning and these times will come to pass.

While writing for about an hour now, a man on his bike stopped to read what I was writing. He had a black beanie, black fingerless gloves, and one of those fluffy looking coats. When he finished reading, he told me that it was inspiring what I was doing. I thanked him, and asked him what word represented hope for him. He paused for a while. Then he turned to me and said two words that still make my heart break.

A roof.

I told him that his voice would be heard, and immediately wrote "for some people, the knowledge of having a roof over their heads gives them hope." He road his bike and that was the last that I saw of him. We didn't know each others names, but we had a connection. Later on some people would stop and read, some would ask what I was doing. I remember there was this woman in an electric wheelchair who told me that it was really cool what I was doing.

Two hours into the process. I was getting rather thirsty. So I walked on to the gas station, bought a Dr. Pepper then went back to writing. Soon after this, a police car came. Two officers stepped out of the car, and one asked me to put my chalk down and keep my hands where they could see them. Apparently sidewalk chalk on a sidewalk stating a message of hope and love is still slightly considered defacing public property. Who knew? One of the officers seemed rather irritated, and he asked if I was on parole, if I had drugs or alcohol in my system. I didn't, but they still wondered why I was doing what I was doing. I told them, and as the angry cop was taking down my information, the other one asked me about my faith and my purpose for my actions. I stated I was going to Vanguard, hence why he knew I was a Christian. But the next moment I won't forget.

He read what I wrote (partially to check for profanity) but he took my words to heart. He then said "Well, it's only sidewalk chalk, it comes off with water. So keep doing what you are doing unless a building owner tells you to stop. But do what you have to do." I thanked them both, and managed to finish my message.

And that was all. Thank you all once again for taking the time to read.

-Just JDR

The Shadow Prooves the Sunshine

Something interesting occurred to me within the last few days. I'm not sure how it took me this long to realize this. Maybe it had something to do with listening to an old Death Cab for Cutie CD. Maybe it was the Coldstone strawberry ice cream I had tonight. Or just standing outside taking a break from an oddly busy week just to stare at the sunset that day. I'm curious about two things really: the honest thoughts of humanity and the ability to allow the little things to overwhelm us.

I know the three things I said before the two observations may not seem connected, but I'm getting to that. First the little things. Something as simple as planning your schedule after a long week can get you to the point of tearing your hair out. But even after those bad days/bad dreams, it seems that a little thing that we take joy in can momentarily take away all of the worries of the day like a nice warm shower. I don't know, something about the first bite of one of your favorite treats has an odd power over us. It lets us know that even after a test that had a question worth some weight that no one in the class was able to answer, we don't have to stay so infuriated. We are emotionally-compulsive beings, and thankfully it seems we just can't make up our minds for more than 5 minutes it seems. I actually think that our emotional-indecisiveness is more blessing than curse, simply because some emotions just aren't healthy over a long period of time.

Human honesty is an equally curious/strange/curious subject. Many of us know the right answers to questions of morality, and yet when put in situations of the same subject, you wonder if you can do what you said you would do. I was watching my school's production of Twelve Angry Jurors Friday, and I have this odd habit with plays and films. I almost instantly try to put myself in the world of the story. And what was frustrating to me this time around because although I love the play and simply from reading it I would instantly side with Juror 8 on the stance of Not Guilty, I found myself watching and genuinely thinking the boy in question was definitely guilty. It was only until Juror 11 was talking about how the old man/witness had an odd limp to his walk did I start to believe the boy was not guilty. I'm frustrated because for 30 minutes I believed it was fine to send a 16 year old boy to the electric chair. I know it's silly to think about since I knew the ending of the play before it happened, but I wondered what my actions would be if I was on a jury and had to decide if a person lived or died. This brought about an interesting view of my own judgement that I did not see before. I don't know, taking a step back to view your own morality and basically what makes you human is interesting is it not?

I don't necessarily feel as good about this post as I did the last time, but I hope that it was still something worthwhile to say. I'll try to post again Wednesday since it will be my only downtime/I will have done a special project I would like to talk about later. Until next time

Just JDR