perch

there’s a beautiful butterfly
that comes near
and then flutters away
as i wait patiently

i hold out my hand –
hopeful for the day
it will perch
on the tip of my finger

© 2006 kris e. lindquist

out of touch

i haven’t written much lately because i was recently laid off from the design position that i’ve held for the past eight-and-a-half years and have been looking diligently for a new one. it’s interesting, because six months ago i would have been freaking out and losing both my appetite and many beneficial hours of sleep. but i’ve been incredibly upbeat and positive. so far, so good. and yet today, i can feel a bit of discouragement setting in. i need to resist that.

so i’ve been out of touch for a bit. have you missed me?

unified by the source

“i offer you peace. i offer you love. i offer you friendship. i see your beauty. i hear your need. i feel your feelings. my wisdom flows from the highest source. i salute that source in you. let us work together for unity and love.”
gandhi

help me to stop getting hung up on the packaging, the labels, and the images of others. rather, help me to see the source, or the light, within.

love letter

“to write a good love letter, you ought to begin without knowing what you mean to say, and to finish without knowing what you have written.”
jean jacques rousseau

i wish i could live my life like this. and i’m not even sure that i fully understand it.

needing to hear

i was at a target store with my daughters the other day and had a brief, but sweet conversation with the woman who helped to check us out. nothing deep, but the kind of conversation that moves beyond the surface and actually engages one another.

my oldest daughter observed this. and as i pushed our cart out of the store – with one munchkin sleeping and hunched over in the front and the other fully alert and observant, riding on the back – my oldest daughter said, “she was a nice woman.” and then she looked me dead in the eye and continued, ““you’re a nice man. no, you’re a fun man.”

my heart melted. and i asked, “why do you say that.”

she answered, “lots of dads are serious. they’re boring. but you take us places and spend time with us. you’re fun.”

thanks kiddo. you have no idea how much i need to hear that.

eager

deep within my being

there is a desire
to catch your eye
to behold your smile
to hear your voice

there is a longing
to engage you
to laugh with you
to know you

there is a penchant
to walk with you
to grasp your hand
to journey together

there is a compulsion
to give freely
to share perpetually
to love completely

a desire
a longing
a penchant
a compulsion

i’m eager to find you

© 2006 kris e. lindquist

all that remains

i received a book from my sister the other day entitled “white wave.” it’s an old chinese tale, written in the taoist tradition, about a “lonely chinese farmer who finds a snail shell gleaming in the moonlight. the shell transforms his life, for when he brings it home, he discovers it is the house of the beautiful moon goddess, white wave.”

in the story, the farmer discovers this wonderful gift and then loses it by spoiling it. after time, he is able to get one final glimpse, but eventually the gift ceases to exist and the farmer dies. the last page of the book reads, “when the old man died, the shell was lost. in time, the shrine, too, disappeared. all that remained was the story. but that is how it is with all of us: when we die, all that remains is the story.”

an interesting ending, and one that i agree with. although, it’s written in somewhat of a negative tone. the words “all that” imply that there needs to be more. and i don’t know that i completely agree with that. some leave good stories. and others leave bad ones. but we have the opportunity to leave behind our stories. hopefully, there are many positive vignettes within those stories – things and events and actions that were positive and impactful during our lives. but i also hope that the story itself (or the stories within the story) will be impactful for those that follow. that in some small way, it has the power and ability to be positive and impactful even after we’re gone.

now, back to the final statement. there is beauty in it. i just missed it the first time. the beauty is that the story actually “remains.” think about it...the story remains. it lives on. and is passed on.

may my story remain and not be forgotten.

break

i watched a movie entitled “invisible children” last evening. it was a documentary about the children of northern uganda who travel to the city each night to sleep. they are afraid of staying in their villages because the rebels have been known to abduct and abuse these children at night for their own purposes. in fact, many of these children have escaped previous abductions and not only hide during the night, but also hide during the day.

the entire movie had a great impact on me. but there was one scene in particular that captured my heart. there were a couple of boys (brothers) who were being interviewed. they were tired of the struggle. so much so that they professed their desire for death, rather than life under the current conditions. they would rather be dead. (i still need time to process that.) perhaps, they felt dead already.

and as they continued to reflect on their short lives, they were asked about their older brother. he had also been abducted, but was unable to escape, and was ultimately killed by the militia. one of the boys began to answer, keeping his composure, and looked primarily to the future. he talked about the possibility of a reencounter with his brother – perhaps in heaven. and he continued to keep his composure.

he had learned very quickly that the militia had no tolerance for emotional children who thought of home or family. in fact, often these children were made an example of and were killed in front of the others. jacob’s brother could have been one of those children. and jacob was expected to express nothing. he was not allowed to enter into his pain. so he kept his composure.

and then, he broke. and he wept. he wept like no one i have ever seen before.

i just sat there and watched jacob weep. there was nothing that i could do. i wanted to hold him. i wanted to sit with him. i wanted to cry with him. but most of all, i wanted to mirror him. i wanted to be able to burst – to allow myself to feel. i wanted to be uninhibited. i wanted to be authentic. i wanted to be pure.

jacob taught me an important lesson. he taught me that i don’t allow myself to break often enough. i need to break for others. and i need to break for myself. i want to learn how to do that. thank you jacob.

stand for change

i’ve been thinking a bit about change. change within myself. change within my community. change within the world. lofty idea, i know, to change the world and all, but i’ve been thinking about it. and i’m starting to wonder what is and isn’t my responsibility.

i understand that i am responsible for changing myself. i can make changes that will impact me. in fact, those changes have the potential to impact my community and my world as well. but i can’t make others change. and i can’t make the world change. so why do i try so hard sometimes.

when i think about some of the world’s greatest leaders, it occurs to me that they influenced change, but they never forced the change. they never made the change happen. there needed to be a willingness first on the part of that which they were hoping would change. gandhi didn’t change the mind of the british to grant india its freedom. the british had to make their own decision to do this. martin luther king, jr. didn’t change the mind of the united states to change its laws and position regarding civil rights. the united states government had to make their own decision. jesus didn’t change the mind of those who chose to follow his teachings. his followers had to decide for themselves.

too often, i try to convince. i try to persuade. i try to make the change happen. and i’m starting to realize that. it’s painful, but i need to acknowledge it. instead, i need to focus on myself. that does not mean that i sit around and do nothing. or that i make changes in my own personal life and distance myself from others – from my community or from my world. i am responsible for doing what is right.

so what does that mean? what does it mean to do right?

i think it starts by searching for the truth. without the truth, it’s hard to do anything right. we all possess an inherent sense of truth – or right and wrong. but there are also truths that we need to search for and discover outside of ourselves. or perhaps, more accurately, we need to be exposed to experiences and conversations and hardships and successes in order for the truth, that is already within us, to be revealed.

and then, i think we (i) are responsible for standing up – standing up for what we believe in. to stand up for what we believe to be the truth. when we see pain where there should be no pain, we stand up. when we see injustice where there should be no injustice, we stand up. when we see lies where there should be truth, we stand up. that is my responsibility – not to make the change, but simply to stand up. simple? not always. but easier to do than convince or persuade or force change. i can’t expect change. i can only hope for it. and by standing up for truth, at the very least, i am asking others to reevaluate. to reconsider. to think.

may my search for truth never end. may i always be changing that which lies within. and when i’m faced with anything that contradicts truth, may i always stand.

help me to remember

“when i despair, i remember that all through history, the way of truth and love has always won. there have been tyrants and murderers and for a time, they can seem invincible. but in the end, they always fall. think of it – always.”
mohandas gandhi

africa

africa has been on my mind for quite some time. but it’s also working its way into my heart.

i’ve been thinking about traveling to africa for several months now, but the plans are finally starting to come together. and i’m excited – so excited. my current plan is to travel to the congo (democratic republic) this summer for the purpose of leading several arts workshops for children. i would be working with a few friends, in conjunction with a local hospital, and would be providing a way for these young africans to express themselves through art – expressions of joy and hope and pain and despair.

these children and their families are dealing with some very troubling circumstances. and yet they are hopeful. rebels are killing men, women, and children. women and children are being raped. families are dealing with poverty, starvation, and disease. and the war continues. it’s a brutal war. but it’s more than just physical. it’s emotional, intellectual, and spiritual. it’s a war that continues even when the fighting stops. and yet, i’m excited to become a part of that. i have no intention of saving the day. no intention of solving problems. i simply want to walk along side of them – children and elders and all those in between. to sit with them. to learn from them. to grow with them. to listen to them. and to build relationships with them that will last a lifetime.

and i’m excited to see that there are others who want to walk with us as well – local organizations who want to brainstorm with us, dream with us, work with us, and support us. several organizations in minneapolis have invited us to meet with them to start a conversation about how they might become involved. we have several meetings on the horizon with art museums/galleries, a group of children’s hospitals, various arts organizations, and local immigrants. and i’m confident that there will be others.

i’m also making more personal connections. i have friends from zimbabwe, a friend from nigeria, a friend whose son-in-law is from gambia, friends living in south africa, friends who are moving to zambia, other friends from somewhere in africa, and daughters who attend school with classmates from both kenya and somalia. i’ve learned so much from these friends and i’m grateful for their presence in my life. they are making an impact.

africa is definitely on my mind. it’s working its way into my heart. and perhaps, it’s even working its way into my soul.

here’s a traditional african prayer that i love.
let us take care of the children, for they have a long way to go.
let us take care of the elders, for they have come a long way.
let us take care of those in between, for they are doing the work.

true friendship

“i will teach you all my foolishness.
and you must teach me yours.”
kasturba gandhi

thoreau for thought

here are a couple of statements that i read last evening from henry david thoreau. interesting food for thought.

talking about a way to live...“in any weather, at any hour of the day or night, i have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.” oh, to live in the “nick of time.”

talking about progression and status and perceptions and reality...“while civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who are to inhabit them. it has created palaces, but it was not so easy to create noblemen and kings.” may i stop looking at the men who live in houses and start to look at the hearts that live in man.

son of adam

interesting thing happened to me this morning. just as i finished my morning shower, i slipped, and i fell backwards into the shower curtain. after a brief moment of support, the shower curtain gave way and we both came crashing down. on the way, we knocked over a small paint can full of rocks and a candle that were positioned on a nearby shelf. the can spilled over and the candle shattered into many, many pieces.

there we lay – naked, spilt, and shattered. and yet, i picked myself up, dealt with the mess, and continued on.

i couldn’t help but to think about the original fall of man. it all happened so fast – flat on his back, in a moment of disbelief. naked, with spilled hope and shattered dreams. and yet, he picked himself up, dealt with the mess, and continued on.

like father, like son.