water falls, and i feel it

1) In my writing project, which i gave to most of my friends, I wrote the line "art is impractical". i was wrong. there are elements of art that are very practical. I was a fool for not considering art's practical nature.

I hope this, (explaining away all the questionable words in my project) doesn't become a habit. alas.

2) I got some free stuff at work today, that some college kids left behind. i love free stuff. so, there is this-



and this-



i can't decide which to drink first.

3) i came across this piece of paper, in the pile of notes from this past year. i'm pretty sure i wrote this at youth group one day, with a dying blue marker.

this is another chapter of my epic pilgrimage, which i have never been on.

rain falls

the rain made fools of my traveling mate and I, washing away our open, unprotected campsite, soaking all our gear. i reach for come clean clothing, and try to find some shade to keep my dry clothes from getting too wet... when i realize i have no dry clothing.

-I remember the night before, looking across at a rich blue sunset, my friend saying how nice a night it was, and that we should sleep outside tonight. it seemed like a good idea at the time, and we were both way too worn out to care about unpacking our gear. we fall asleep, with the chirping of crickets (though, i'm not sure if crickets live here), and the stars awaking to dance above our heads- irony is an interesting thing. we trade a peaceful evening for a peaceful rain filled morning.

We set up the tent quickly, and lay frustrated, slipping into a strange state of listening. the rain calms for a moment, and we can hear small drops dripping into the puddles outside.

I start to imagine the existance of God, in the rain. when it rains its as if the earth weeping, with the very thing that gives it life. its like feeling the life-giving element stream a cold line down my cheek, in a broken state, wondering why. It's as if God is in the rain, his hands tracing lines on my face, when I look up.

When it rains we wonder, why the grimness, why the cold? why doesn't the sun shine all the time, and why does heaven seem to fall around us while we stand in the wake? i love rain for this very reason- it carries with it a certain grace. we need it to sustain life, to give dampness to the ground, and keep the earth from catching on fire. but, why it has to fall, why it feels so cold... this mystery is where we find a humbleness, a grace of not knowing why. its as if the rain covers us, fills out clothing and sends a chill to our skin, so we can know what feeling cold is like. or, we can know what feeling is at all.

My mate does not share my interests towards rain, talking low about how long it will take us to walk to shelter and dry off. We would be about a day behind. i never seemed to worry about time, he told me. "thats why i have you" i say back to him. he turns suddenly, sits up, and crawls out of the tent, running towards his tarp covered pack. "my wallet! the money!" he shouts to me, scrambling under the tarp. he returns, a handful of flimsy currency, and we both break out lauging.

And we sit in the tent, our pesos hung on string line at the top of the tent, waiting for the water to decide it has given us enough life for one day. if i could capture that moment, of waiting and the expectation of having to walk 3 miles in the rain to get to the next refugio, i would use the word "content"...

...more later.

4) I ate some under-cooked bison for dinner, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to make it through the night. we'll see.