fútbol fever

World Cup 2014 is well underway, and as I am (fortunately?) unemployed I have entered into the experience with the masses. To be honest, fútbol is the only sport that I really enjoy watching, much to the chagrin of the males in my family. They gnash their teeth and ask why on earth I would want to watch a game where NOTHING happens for ninety minutes and then suddenly, in overtime, three goals are scored leading to a 2-1 victory (Germany v Algeria). I calmly point out that A LOT is happening--the players are constantly racing up and down the field (unlike baseball), there are no certainties regarding possession or breaks (unlike American football), and the action is as unrelenting as the athleticism (unlike golf).

However, I know that I am merely an amateur fan. I adopted fútbol as my sport in large part because it is de facto the most international sport and I am, if anything, a lover of internationality. Furthermore, having traveled as extensively as I have and being able to name friends from all over the globe, it is easy for me to pick a side in a world competition. Holding an American passport makes this all the more important as the USA never fails to underwhelm in their performance. So I chose countries such as Germany because I've visited multiple places and have several friends there, or Spain where I spent a year.

In spite of nonchalantly picking teams at rates that would mortify an English fan, I must admit that the actions of both fans and players on the USA team this year have given me hope. Maybe, just maybe, I will someday achieve legitimacy and be able to hold my head up high before friends whose teams never fail to get to the quarterfinals. After all, I can't completely renounce my heritage that believes, nay hopes always that the underdog has a chance. If fútbol offers anything that appeals to Americans, it is the dream of Cinderellas everywhere, the belief that with determination and a streak of luck, we can change our stars. And that aspect is something the English fans who scorn our lack of long-suffering endurance will never understand.

away we go!

I'm waiting and anticipating
On the floor before the door.
If it should crack I won't hold back
But blast away this sunny day
Out to the street Oh freedom sweet!
What is that smell? I cannot tell,
But I will run and have some fun
Until I see all I can be.
But wait, I hear now coming near
A single man who has a plan.
I take my stand but see his hand.
The leash descends and my joy ends.

fire season

in the silent forest
trees keep watch
silent sentries
unable to warn
as their gaze rests
on a spark
a speck compared to
their towering heights
yet imbued with power
an impish breeze passes
kisses the spark passionately
the flames burst out
child of wind and flare
the ancient trees quiver
as fire consumes
in moments the stately stand
becomes a pyre
the green growth of years
destroyed by a flicker

Ole Ola

From goal to goal I go

Ole ola I am the ball

In rain or shine I fly

Desire of one and all

They attack my sides

Ole ola I tease the cleats

They beg me to comply

And long for daring feats

The net beckons in white

Ole ola I ignore its call

They run and run and run

But only I am the ball

prairie lullabye

I know where the sidewalk ends
it ends in a field of weeds
past the last signpost and friendly host
where the elusive prairie dog feeds

I've been past the edge of nowhere
and heard how the mourning dove grieves
where the only sound above the ground
is the whisper of the aspen leaves

I've stumbled 'long the dusty trail
and gazed at the lonely pine
so I tell you true that whatever you do
you can't get it out of your mind

I miss that forever sky
sometimes when the air is thick
I can close my eyes with quiet sighs
and try not to get heartsick

I know that my day will come
when I bid farewell to home
I will shoulder my bags all dressed in rags
and walk that trail unknown

green and brown

my heart was born green. lush, verdant, rain-loving green that dances with life during each vibrant sun shower. when i've had to list ideal living places they have a common theme: temperate, green and near enough to the sea to get away for a day. my skin is white and my eyes are light and the harsh sun of a dry climate wreaks havoc on both. so i gravitate naturally towards a climate that is moist--but not too humid--and full of a variety of plants that contain all the colours of the rainbow on a spring day.
yet i have lived in and journeyed to places that boast more sun than raindrops and learnt that there can be beauty in an alien landscape. in the middle east i stepped into a beautiful oasis of date palms, right in the midst of the rusty-brown sandy landscape. the sky in lands boasting of an abundance of vitamin d seems to go on forever. in the high desert the aspen cluster around streams that dry up in late summer, their leaves playing a plaintive tune telling of hard winters and arid summers and the joy of a life free in wide open spaces.

rain in the desert

the drops fall hard and fast; this is not the slow rain of the lush valley. the thirsty ground reacts counterintuitively to the quenching drops, as if it has passed the point of thirst to reject what it so desperately needs: water. it treats the water as a man freezing to death treats his clothes, rejecting them in his dying moments as he welcomes the delusion of heat. the drops hit the dry ground and barely penetrate, condensing into rivulets and running over the dust to pool in gullies and rocky basins. cultivated ground fairs better, having been prepared to welcome the life-giving deluge. green leaves used to hiding from the sun’s harsh rays uncurl and turn upwards to the sustaining elixir. when the rain all too quickly passes the ground shakes off the moisture in a momentary mist of evaporation, returning to its brown lifeless state as quickly as a dreamer waking.

it’s a commonly held misconception that a dying man will do anything to avert death, welcoming with lightning speed the remedy for his malady. in reality, humanity rejects on a daily basis preventative cures. people choose to ignore trends in their lives that hasten mortality and put bandaids on gunshot wounds. this is not simply a physical trend, but a relational and spiritual one as well. like the dry ground, we reject the very thing that produces life in the belief that we do not need it when in fact death is crouching at the door. 

the good news is the rain will keep falling on both the just and the unjust. we can make our ground ready to welcome the rain and have lives that produce life. illnesses happen, relationships break down, mistakes are made but we can grow and improve through it all. cultivate your life now so that someday your fruit will bless those around you.