Be Still, and Know that I am God

Be still, and know that I am God.

   I struggle with understanding what that means, sometimes.  I know you exist in my heart of hearts.  There is no question.  you mean more than that.  "God."  That word is capitalized.  Not "a god."  Just "God."  The great I AM.
   I am still, at the edge of this pond.  Quiet.  Listening for you.  I see where the Native Americans understood god to be Nature: nature is neither good, nor bad, it just is.  The trees can be nothing other than themselves.  It is not so with humans.  We can be whoever we choose to act as.  Therefore, I see why we seek that which is honest and true and unchanging . . . because we are not.  I see why so many of us run to the woods when we seek clarity; it is the clearest place, free from the burdens of pleasing society. free from the realization that you will let someone down.  You will falter.  It is here that we can gaze upon simple existence, and, for a time, escape the inevitability of the marred human life.
   It is here that the hole we have dug ourselves into, or are hiding in, or are trying to escape from, levels out and for a time disappears.  But.  It is also here that the reasons behind that hole being there become inescapable.  When faced with the honesty, the unashamed truth of nature, one cannot hide from the honesty of one's own life.
   My heart is unclothed in the woods.  I can cry, I can grin.  I can wring my hands in sorrow, or worry, or guilt, or anxiety here without fear of judgement by the honest trees or squirrels.  Even so, I come face to face with my own hypocrisy, my own dishonesty, my own imperfections.  That is me.  I cannot escape myself.

Be still, and know that I am God.

   The trees, in their honesty, cannot be here solely by disorderly, unknown, entropic chance.  If so, how does the forest work so much like a well oiled machine?  Ecologists recognize not merely a tree, or a stand of trees, but a system.  A system which they simultaneously affect and are affected by.  It is an interesting observation that the system did well on its own until imperfect humans began to alter it; as if we know, better than a tree, how to be a tree.  And yet, here we are, acting upon the land, as it is our duty.  In a sense, our mere existence necessitated our caretaking of this land, as a means of counteracting our own effect on it.  Funny cycle, that.
   It is indeed a testament to the power which keeps nature here, that even our best efforts cannot affect nature wholly.  It stands stalwart, though we may rail against it.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Be still, here in this landscape, and know that in spite of your own best--if imperfect--efforts, you are still loved.  You are still presented with the honesty of nature to reveal your faults, to comfort your soul, and to give you hope.  Hope that one day, when you stop trying, and just be my creation, you too, can stand stalwart in my presence and live, and know that you are loved.

A Village

"It takes a village to raise a child."

Everyone has heard this saying, and everyone probably agrees.  I still want to talk about it...so just grin and bear the trite beginning, because I think there's some new goodness to be found in it.

I have a 16 month old godson.  He's the greatest.  He's happy-go-lucky and smart.  Everyone who meets him instantly loves him.  His parents are part of my "village" here in college, so we do many social events together.  They bring FJ with them often, which no one minds because he's already one of us, even at such a young age.  But it has really hit me at the last couple of events he's attended, that it doesn't matter where he is, he is always being looked after by everyone.  It's not just his parents that are trailing him around, it's everyone.  Whoever we meet or spend time with happily becomes part of the FJ "monitoring," not that he needs much, he's a fairly independent kid.

For instance, on Saturday night I had roughly 20 people in my house, and every time I saw FJ he was talking to or being held by someone else.  He "read" to people, he helped people grill, he helped them plug or unplug their various cell phones, and he definitely helped cook and eat all the food possible.  Not only does his parents bringing him to things enhance his social skills, it also gives them a chance to be blessed with an assurance that they aren't solely responsible for chasing after him.

Everyone helps, because he's one of us and we love him.

I'd like to suggest that it doesn't' only take a village to raise a child...it takes a village to just be.

This is where I insert another trite saying about how "I don't know who I'd be without my friends," but I legitimately mean it.  I have made many mistakes, taken wrong turns, fumbled through conflicts, but I manage to come through it by the grace of God and the love of my friends and family (those things are not mutually exclusive).  If it was just me out here in this Post-modern world, I wouldn't be able to pull through what I have already overcome.  It takes a village for emotional support, yes, but also sometimes just to make dinner come together.

Saturday was an Oktoberfest party.  I planned out pretzel bites, various dips, pumpernickel, potato salad, potato pancakes, chicken schnitzel, pork schnitzel, sauerkraut, bratwursts, kielbasa, two types of cheese strudel, apple pie, and black forest cake.  One cannot do that alone, especially if the food is going to taste good and be fresh.  I had wonderful friends bake the desserts and other baked goods, as my oven is temperamental and bakes unevenly.  

But I thought with careful planning I'd be able to handle the rest alone.

Wrong.

Thank the good Lord I had two amazing helpers ALL DAY Saturday, who were graciously at my beck and call.  They stood alongside me in the kitchen washing, peeling, slicing, dicing, tenderizing, boiling, mixing, whipping (as in, just with a whisk!), cleaning, organizing, and keeping me sane with simultaneously deep and hilarious conversation.

By 45 minutes before go-time we thought we had it handled...then a breaker went...in the kitchen.

The fridge, water heater, stove, and all the kitchen outlets went down.  We had 10 pounds of raw chicken and pork in sitting in the dead fridge waiting to be breaded and deep fried.  After much breaker flipping, nothing happened, and guests began arriving.  I was in full panic-mode.  But again, thank God I was surrounded by people who rose to the occasion.

Some of them moved the deep-fryer into the living room and began a relay system: a breader in the kitchen, a runner, and a fry cook.

Someone else managed to get the circuits working again.  Another guest started frying the potato pancakes without being asked: he just took it over.  It all came together: hot, fresh, delicious, authentic, and 100% a group effort.

It's humbling.

I had a grand plan to have everything done precisely by 7pm, when people were supposed to arrive.  I had friends show up early ready to help, and I had friends that were problem solvers when I was too absorbed with how this was not working out the way I had envisioned.

The rest of the evening was filled with glorious laughter, great food, conversation, dancing, and such a love among everyone that it was palpable in the air.  Mind you, this wasn't a village who'd known each other for decades.  Some of us had only known each other for 2 years, or 2 minutes.

But between the food, the kid, and the compassion for one another, what we experienced that night was something special.

It was a beautiful reminder that who we are is defined, yes, by what we do, but also with whom we do it.  I am who I am because of the influences in my life, for better of for worse.  Okay, just for the better. ;)

FJ will become who he is because of who he's with, and how they treat him.

I think if he's with this village, he'll turn out pretty okay.

Vulnerablility

I am the strong one.

That is a self-imposed title.  But if I look at my life, look at those I know and love, everyone else has something bigger going on than I do.  I'm not going to air laundry here, but that's just how it is.

Well, until this big thing happened in my own life.  But I've spent a while making myself be strong for everyone else, being the one who has it together so that if someone needs to talk to me, they can without fear of my interjections with my own sagas.  I've spent long enough that sometimes I'm not sure I know how to be broken anymore...I'm not sure I know how to let myself...be vulnerable.

Don't misunderstand, I haven't been burned by someone, well, ever.  Maybe once, but that blame isn't totally on the other party.  To be honest, I've probably done my share of the burning; I think my mission to be "strong" became a spirit of "I don't need anyone," somewhere along the line.
Pro-tip: those two are not the same.  They can sometimes feel the same, when you're the one emoting, but...I can bet they don't feel the same to everyone else.

So now here I am.  Broken, tired, and weak.  But the wrinkle is that currently, it's the inner layer that's broken.  Like a burned-out light bulb: you look at it, you shake it and you can hear the burnt filament, but the outer glass is fine.  A cursory glance probably won't tell you it's broken.

In my heart of hearts, I know I need to be totally broken to be rebuilt.  Yes, I get it.  Break me down to the raw building blocks, then put me back together.  But I've spent so long willing my blocks together, they are not falling down easily.  They haven't fallen down yet, not all of them, anyway.  I know how,  I guess.  The very thing (me) holding myself together is the thing that needs to let me go.
Ever tried that?  I've got news for you if you haven't: it ain't easy.  It's not fun.  It takes a whole lot of courage to go toddler-mode and knock those blocks down.  And frankly, I'm not feeling very child-like.

But as for me, I am poor and needy;
    may the Lord think of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
   you are my God, do not delay.

Zugunruhe

October is only six days old, and yet it feels like an old friend greeting me with open arms.  With it comes orange leaves, crisp breezes, and Oktoberfest--Okay, so let's forgive the fact that the München festival is over...and just pretend that Oktoberfest actually happens in October--
Thoughts of that festival always bring me back to my own roots: Wien, Kaffee, topfenstrudel, sauerkraut, and so forth.  Thus awakens my adventuring spirit.  Crisp air, good food...these things are hard to experience inside an office.

I want to go to Vienna again!  The Alps!  I want to see the Rockies in the fall!  Big Sur! Yosemite! Colorado Springs!  Albuquerque!  Flagstaff! Boundary Waters! Black Hills! North Woods!  Everywhere!  Let me go!  Let me see new things, experience change! Oh to be a bird on the annual migration, able to cross the country and land someplace new, yet familiar!

I have found that often August and September are a mad rush of change, excitement, and preparation for October.  That is not to say that activity slows in October, it just settles into a familiar bustle.  The months preceding this one are hectic and jumbled: crammed full of planning, moving, new clothes, new books, new goals...You get restless.  You get tired of the way things are.  You yearn for a new place, a new space, a new season.  You re-arrange the living room.  You run off on a weekend excursion.  You get new art, maybe on your body, maybe for your house.  You make plans: some to keep, some to forget.  You rearrange the furniture...again.

Ecologists have a word for this in the animal kingdom.  It's Zugunruhe.

You see it in animals as they prepare to take off across the landscape.  They prepare for the change.  They get excited.  They bustle around.  They stay up later.  They eat more.  They make small moves out and about.  If they had clothes, they'd pack.  And unpack.  And repack.
The thing to notice about zugunruhe, is that it's not just a restlessness.  It's an excited preparation to make a change.  It's a readying of the body to embark on a journey.  It's purposeful restlessness.
This concept in itself is remarkable, given that the animals affected have such delicate metabolisms.

Even hummingbirds go through this.  Hummingbirds!  Tiny winged creatures that are perpetually hours away from starving to death!  They undertake this heightened activity, this restless preparation for the Big Change.

If they go through this every year, and make it, so can I.

What I have..it's not just wanderlust.  It's premeditation of an adventure that I know will lead to...well...if I knew, it wouldn't be a change, would it?  It's a great restlessness in my spirit that tells me it's time for a change for the better.  To move.  To take a risk.  To learn a new thing.  To see a new place.  To break that habit.  To make a change.

Have you felt that?  Have you had such a burden on your soul that things need to change?  It's inescapable.  It works its way into your dreams, your conversations, your quiet meditations.  It's October, and it's time.

Simple Gifts

This music accompanies these words:

I've been back in Athens for a month and a half now.
I moved out of the woods and into the city on January 3rd.  I started graduate school on January 6th.
I've picked up my martial arts again, I'm fumbling through homework, tests, quizzes, and time management.  I'm spending inordinate amounts of time on the internet.  I'm once again sucked in by Netflix.
Sitting in traffic for 15 minutes to get to Kroger 5 miles away is the norm.  I don't wave at every car or truck I pass anymore, because I'd be waving all the time (and not in the cute, Southern way).  I spend the majority of my weekdays in an office with no windows, staring at two computer screens.
My respite comes when I walk to and from the bus stop, or go to martial arts or church, or see people who stop in for my desk-corner-chocolate.  Every weekend chance I get, I spend outside.

Those eight months in the woods spoiled me.

It's fascinating to me that almost a year ago, I wrote in "The Lull" that I was not ready to move into the woods, that I was loathe to leave this city I love so much.  In truth, part of me is excited to be back.  It's fun to be able to eat any kind of food you want, whenever you want, and see whatever you want to see.  It's nice to take a stroll through North Campus, downtown, and the Founder's Garden.  It's good to be close to my friends, my martial arts--the people I was terrified to leave behind.

But I can't help but yearn for the woods, the solitude, the simplicity.  

There are always distractions: things to keep you from doing your work and focusing on your priorities.  It's just that in Athens, or in any proper city, the distractions are flashier and much more insistent.
I find myself wasting so much time on Facebook, taking personality quizzes, or quizzes that tell you what Disney princess, sidekick, villain, couple, or theme song you are.
Really??  Are those things enriching to my life in any way, or important to my work, my maturation, my character, or my future? Nope.  Nope, they're not.

Some might argue that tromping through forests, hanging out on rivers, sitting in a deer stand, climbing rocks, sleeping under the stars, hiking mountains, wandering through planted pine, or making campfires aren't any of those things either, but they sure seem a lot more wholesome.
You learn a lot more about your God, yourself, your responsibilities, your place in the world, and your world by actually being in it.  You learn about history: not just through books, but through experiences, through the people you meet and the woods through which y'all walk.

I have found that the type of person that is just as willing to do those things with you as they are willing to get dressed up and hit that trendy Thai restaurant (which is still delicious), is the type of person who is also willing to listen to your internal struggles, your future aspirations, your fears, your dreams, your hopes, your beliefs.
That person is the one who will ask you the tough questions, but also be comforting; who will sit still, soaking in the beauty of this Creation, but who will rustle up plenty adventure.  That person is the one who doesn't have to be tied to a city, or set or "habitat requirements" to be tied to a friendship.
I have begun to notice more and more that it is this type of person I find myself drawn towards, I find myself striving to become.

Maybe I've read too many westerns.
Truth be told, things are not as simple as they once were.  Even in my young 23 years I can attest to that.
But I cannot help but feel that the complexities of today are merely accessory to the necessities of yesterday.
Having wifi is nice.  Having this wireless mouse for my laptop is handy.  Having an extra monitor for my laptop is exciting.  Having a USB "powerstrip" (adds 4 more USB ports to my computer) is super cool.  But these aren't the things that make a person, or shape a person.  Not this person, anyway.
They are no replacement for exploring, questioning, tromping, falling, struggling, and persevering in this great, big, scary world God has given us to look after.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this:
I miss the simple woods.  Not because of the freedom in the workday it gave me, or the pretty landscapes constantly surrounding me, but because of how much the woods broke me down, tried my patience, stretched my abilities, and gave me the opportunity to praise God in the storms and in the sunshine.

Here in the city, I know He is present, but I admit, these flashy distractions keep my mind drifting.

Out there, in the rawness of His Creation, I cannot help but see His mighty hand.  I cannot help but see His Simple, most profound, Gifts.

The Effect of Tin Foil Hats on Telemetry Success in Middle Georgia

Given the events of the fall of 2013, a new theory has developed regarding the black bear (Ursus americanus) population of Middle Georgia.  Further research is needed to confirm this theory, however the evidence we will present in the following paragraphs does heavily suggest this as the most plausible explanation for inconsistent reception of GPS data and VHF signal.  We theorize that the black bears of Middle Georgia have obtained skills necessary to create tin foil hats with which they are obstructing the effective transmission of GPS and VHF signal.

For years there has been discussion on the effectiveness of tin foil as a deterrent for alien brain probing.  While there has been hesitancy about the truthiness of these claims, it has come to our attention that a similar phenomenon has occurred within the Middle Georgia black bear population.  Essential components to the research projects surrounding this particular population are: 1) the use of GPS location information sent by collars on the bears, and 2) the triangulation of VHF collars on other bears.

GPS collars use cell phone towers to transmit location information to the computer system used for analysis.  However, the transfer of data is dependent on several factors: 1) the continued functionality of the collar battery, 2) cell service, and 3) the avoidance of tin foil hats.  VHF collars simply give out a beep on a high frequency radio wave, and thus are not dependent on cell service, however the other two factors are important.  While there is fair to good cell coverage across our study area and our telemetry gear is fully functional, there are particular bears that continue to evade our observation.

In particular, bears 109 (adult male), 140 (sub-adult male), and 128 (adult female with 2 year old offspring) have been known to disappear for abnormal lengths of time.  109 has gone off the grid for weeks at a time, only to pop back up on the GPS downloads, with a back-log of the time he was gone.  140 has remained inside the virtual fence, a geographical area surrounding highway 96 in which the location transmission is more frequent, however he continues to seemingly disappear from VHF transmission.  Similarly, 128, who is only a VHF bear, appears to cover great distances within a short period of time.  While this is plausible for a bear that is on the move, the direction, frequency, and instances in which she appears to hop back and forth between two locations is abnormal.

After careful consideration, it is my conclusion that these individuals have discovered the tin foil hat method of avoidance.  109, who is trap-happy, has had these mysterious disappearances over several months, and has a questionable character (given his tendency to be drawn to tranquilizing drugs).  Therefore it is considered a viable option that he has utilized tin foil hats to avoid detection while on unscrupulous errands.

While 128 does not appear to be drug-dependent, she has continually presented a challenge to multiple biologists who have attempted to track her for visual observation.  Upon triangulation, the biologist will then begin to walk into the center of that polygon to attempt a visual observation.  It is common to reach the suspected location of 128 and not find her, nor hear any bear movement during the entire track.  After returning to the beginning location to re-triangulate, it is also common to find her a considerable distance away, repeat the process, and still come up with nothing.  Therefore, it is considered an option that 128 has discovered the utility of tin foil in deflecting and refracting the radio emissions in order to send the biologist in an incorrect direction.

Finally, 140, though a sub-adult, appears to have also utilized the tin foil hat method in evading observation.  It is common for the biologist to hear a radio blip every other beat, or every three beats, when it should be heard at 40bpm.  In this situation, the conclusions to be drawn could indicate a faulty collar, but given the geographical closeness of 109 and 140, in addition to the possibility of relatedness of 109 and 140, I would also offer a tin foil hat as an explanation for this telemetry difficulty.

Ordinarily this theory would be thrown out, however given the unique circumstances regarding our particular study population (primarily the bottleneck effect on the population due to geographic and genetic isolation), I propose this to be the simplest solution.  Moreover, see Fig. 1 below as proof that this has occurred within other species of bear across the country.  Finally, the surrounding human population is a unique combination of backwater individuals and air force professionals.  Given this environment, it is possible that the paranoia regarding conspiracy theories has crept into the black bear population, resulting in the apparent use of tin foil hats to foil research attempts.

Fig. 1: This is, up to the present day, the only photo documentation of a bear utilizing a tin foil hat.  While this is a brown bear (Ursus arctos) it is useful to illustrate the plausibility of our theory.

God's Country

Today is the second day of the Oaky Woods hunt.  It’s too warm, not wet enough, and too quiet.  There are only about one hundred hunters signed in right now, with two deer harvested so far.  I know that a hundred people on a three day hunt sounds like a lot, but with so many acres…it’s pretty empty.  That would be good, ordinarily, because that’s so many deer per hunter, but with 60degree mornings, it’s way too warm for the deer to be feeling frisky and on the move. 

There are so many things I am learning about hunting just be sponging up all the conversations between the DNR guys, hunters, loggers, and law enforcement officers.  It is such an interesting experience for a girl that has never learned about how to look for sign, or take advantage of deer habits during different weather patterns, or avoid crowded hot spots. 

I love it.  I love how much these men know about the land they care for, how much they understand the animals and ecosystem.  It is days like this that I understand why Leopold captured my heart so with his writings.  His practical knowledge, his passion, his humble, day-to-day understanding of the natural world in which he lives is a gift.  Not many people understand their surroundings quite so much like those that work in them all the time, and not many people will stop and listen through the thick accents and the rough exteriors to see the huge hearts in these men.

Admittedly, for most of my life I wouldn’t have listened either.  However, now, I do.  I hear their consciences so clearly through their words about regulations, safety, scrapes, slues, bottoms, hard mast, and firebreaks.  I hear how much this land means to them, and I hear how much they have sacrificed to keep it beautiful.  Honestly, the jobs these men have are not the most financially rewarding.  They just aren’t.  Having a family on this salary can be tough, unless you’re smart.  But I see these men do it every day.  I see them work the long hours, deal with thankless hunters, put miles and miles of mud on their trucks…all because of their love for the land.

How noble a profession. 

I mean it.  It might sound strange, especially when you look at the weathered, tan-and-green, gun-toting tough guys, but it’s the truth.  I cannot express to my satisfaction the joy I have in my heart because I have had the chance to get to know these men working in bear country.  

You know, Hooker jokes sometimes about this being God’s country, but for me, right now, His presence is so clear, that without a doubt…this is indeed God’s country, and I am thankful to be in it.