Amsterdam

So, we just arrived back to Portugal from Amsterdam. We were there to share some time with other learners of culture. It was a fantastic time. Amsterdam is a city full of juxtapositions; the old is balanced by the new, the local by the international, tradition shadowed by progress, the holy faces the unholy, extreme beauty flanked by extreme sadness.

It is a town reminiscent to me in the slightest of ways of Las Vegas. A city of many sights and sounds, attractions and history (albeit not like the history in Amsterdam). But in Amsterdam, as in Vegas, the commodification of the human body, and life, is more than a main stay. It has become a culture, a history, a worldview.

Surrounded by Victorian homes, a beautiful river runs through the city, masking, for a little while, the sold lives and the cultural commodification of sex. A beautiful thing has become sold like a slave. Many of the bodies sold, very well could be slaves. Those bodies, though, have souls, lost somewhere in the darkness of hopelessness. Lost in the dark streets that need more than window lights to illuminate.

As we traveled to the houses of Ann Frank and Corrie Ten Boom, a new reality hit us. This is also a city of hope. If you are unfamiliar with either story, I strongly encourage you to read both. People, who both risked and lost lives for the sake of love and righteousness, gave been immortalized by their courage. They represent a new reality, one of beauty in suffering, freedom in enslavement, hope in hopelessness. Corrie Ten Boom, a seemingly lesser known story of the two (yet not lesser by any means), stood out to me. Her words seem to transcend her situation to a hope in a higher reality, a higher authority in fallen situations. Despite the circumstances, we are challenged to love; at cost, at risk, because it is who we are supposed to be.

I have no judgement for those who sell their bodies, only hope. Hope of a new reality, despite their circumstances, despite their history. I share in imperfection. But I have seen the hope that stands to face the darkness. I have felt the light that burns bright in the allies of hopelessness.

I am greatly appreciative of my experiences, being able to see such a wonderful town. I am greatful for the organization who facilitated that experience. I am also incredibly greatful for those who are in Amsterdam full time to share Light with those there. We had a chance to share that light with a shop keeper there. A man from Egypt who, although smiled a lot, opened his heart to us, giving us his life story. We remain in contact with him. But, it is comforting to know there are workers of the light there.

"...joy runs deeper than despair."- Corrie Ten Boom

"Love is larger than the walls which shut in in."- Corrie Ten Boom also (shes good)

Fresh Water

Yesterday, I saw a man having a seizure. He was helped by a crowd below my apartment, so I felt my helping would only hinder, but as I watched this dramatic scene unfold, I was struck by a swift emotion of thankfulness. As the man lay, surrounded by good citizens (from who knows where), and the ambulance racing up, I became aware of how thankful I am for people such as this.

One of my best friends in the states is a paramedic. His name is Brian. He is a man of great character, the kind of guy you would expect to see in a crowd of good citizens and most definitely the guy you want pulling up to an emergency.  I am thankful he is a friend, I am thankful he has been there for me in times of need.

I find myself surrounded by people, good citizens, blessings. We are blessed with an amazing language teacher here. She is a breath of fresh air, her and her family. We are most indebted to her kindness and tutelage. What I am struck by is that there is so much, so many people, so many things to be thankful for everyday. Blessings hidden by familiarity, brought to light by drama, by necessity, by  emergency.

Tradition is a great thing. It gives us a story that helps paint our identity, it gives us context, understanding. What we risk in tradition, though, is a fresh vision. We risk the lack of risk. We become what we know, not what we may know. What was once lively and dramatic has become stone and dusty. We relive it to make it new-ish. And yet, how much more lively when we seek to engage, to dance with, those blessings that surround us like the cool night air come to refresh our souls.  We have risked, for too long, the dry arid desert of old. Yet we cannot abandon history to nothingness. It is important, necessary.

We must strike a balance between remembering the past as hope for the future. As relics to remind us of the current and present hope. The spirit that haunts us, that has not dissipated to the depths of oblivion. Those blessings that we so often forget that are right there to drive up and resuscitate us, lights flashing, holding our heads as we seize in and struggle.

I am reminded of what I have taken for granted, what my history sight has distorted, or forgotten. A fresh view of One who blesses, of One who redeems. I am filled with thankfulness for a hope in something not solely of the past, locked in time, subject to the annuls of dust and rust. I am thankful for an active Spirit, a fresh well of living water. Fresh, like the water given by faith.

"To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it."- Mother Teresa 

Haunting and Helping

Sorry folks, it has been awhile since I have blogged. Steph and I have been super busy with the summer sports camp we help with, along with a crazy busy schedule of spending time with locals and other volunteers. We have been incredibly blessed to have a great language teacher with an amazing family! We miss our homestay family too as we have been so busy and not able to hook up with them (hopefully soon).

We continue to meet new people and get to know the friends we have made so far. It has been great getting to know some of the football players I work with a few nights a week. We have been sleeping little with such a crazy schedule, however we are encouraged at the opportunities given us!

"They" say that the past will come back to haunt us, but rarely do "they" say how it will come back to help us. In fact, if you were to google (someday spell check will recognize this as a verb) history quotes, you would find that most quotes on history are quite negative. It is actually quite depressing. But what we write about history is from a perspective, a pessimistic one at that! Very few quotes remember the things in our histories that bring about a better future, a more rich present.

 I have been in sports as both a coach and an athlete for as long as I can remember. Even when I was not active as either of those, my life was saturated with sports. These sports ranged from your mainstream sports (football, gymnastics, etc) to, as they say here, "radical" sports (rock climbing, surfing, etc.). I have been known for my conditioning work with athletes ranging from baseball to gymnastics to climbers (and on and on). Steph, too, has seen her history is cheer stunting, gymnastics, climbing, slacklining, etc. She has connected well with the kids she works with because of years of experience working with them.

I would have never thought that our history in sports would open so many doors to work with and get to know so many people in so many situations. Both Steph and I have been blessed to use our history to engage our present, we shall see how it directs our future.

I am constantly encouraged by the opportunities we are blessed with, the people we sport with (that's right, I used it as a verb!). People here have a long history in sport, as they have a long history in general. But I am learning much from them and they have welcomed us through sports.

Sometimes, we forget the amount of stuff we learn in our lives, either professionally, educationally, or live lessonally (yea I know). It is amazing how things come back to us. With technology today, information is so easily gained, but that stuff we spent hours and hours and days and days attaining, it is burned into our minds. It is there like a ghost hiding in the shadows. But this ghost does not have mal-intent, like a Holy Ghost it is there to help, to aid, to support.

We are so afraid of being haunted by a history that holds as many blessings, if not more. This ghost, given to us, is a gift. One to harness, to remember, to be thankful for.

"Most people never run far enough on their first wind to find out they've got a second."

-William James

"History never looks like history when you are living through it."

-John W. Gardner

More and more and the Fukuyama Principal

So... we continue to experience the world of Portugal, its people and its spirit. We have encountered cross-cultural conflict from misunderstandings, experienced great times with great people and great cuisine. We are hard at work with the language training, the verbs are killin us! But is is going on, more and more experiences. We have been helping teach surfing, hoping to be a blessing to the lives of the students and fellow workers.

We are constantly finding out how different this world is from our own. Sometimes, it seems so close to ours, but living here destroys that notion. But difference is not a bad thing, it is just difference. We are learning to live in a different pace, to dance to a different beat, knowing we may never, probably will never, fully become like the locals, but we try to live simpatico, as much as is beneficial to them.

Francis Fukuyama, in his End of History discourse, talked of synthesis as the product of a thesis and antithesis colliding. As one ideology collides with another, it would produce a new idea (synthesis), which would collide with another (making it a thesis) and start the process over (until the end of history, democracy). Here, we see how the even more Western world collides with the Portuguese world, as the Portuguese world collided with the numerous cultures it had in its day of exploration glory.

Products of American culture, such as hip hop, food, cinema, etc. have integrated into the Portuguese lifestyle. However, out of this thesis/ antithesis dance is produced a new synthesis, a new product, still of Portuguese style. It has become theirs. The ways of old are still here, but new generations are allotted their own ways, their own culture. This, as we are so blessed to observe this amazing place, is on our minds.

No culture is completely concrete, they are all fluid. plasma like maybe. If you study culture, and expect to see a monolithic thing, you will be blind to the complexities of such a beautiful thing. It is, however, on of our great faults to look for the monolithic where there is complexity, beautifully at that.

Who we are here must be fluid, flexible, complex. To be a blessing, you may be quite simple in your actions, but as an individual, you share the complexity of the society that you are a product of. Even that, we are the product of a complex web of biology, society, and free will. Realize and celebrate the beauty of the creation that you are. Be thankful for it, live thankful for it.

We continue to labor in love, giving the hope that we we in the greatest of Hope Givers.

Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance. Where there is patience and humility, there is neither anger nor vexation. Where there is poverty and joy, there is neither greed nor avarice. Where there is peace and meditation, there is neither anxiety nor doubt.

-St. Francis

Scholarly Research and the Pass Protection

Working with defensive backs is reminiscent of scholarly research. This week, as I was coaching a safety to not commit to every move and Barry Sanders jive movement (fake out for you non-football people) I was noticing a pattern close to a student researching a topic. When the wide receiver would snap quickly side to side, the safety would bite on the first move and get burned. Much like research, one has to be careful to commit to an idea, especially a first or dissonant idea.
Much like a talented safety, one must move with research without committing to hard before the research commits in a certain direction. Aristotle said that "It is the mark of an educated man to entertain a thought without accepting it." I am not on track with everything Aristotle said, but this I like. In fact, it is the job of an academic to explore a plethora of ideas, even when they challenge, refute, or affirm their worldview or any beliefs they currently hold.
In research I am currently doing, I am finding a more rich understanding of the topic by exploring a diverse field scholars. Non of my views have been radically changed, but I have found deeper vision of the topic. Still, I feel the urge to move at every jive of every scholar who presents a plausible argument, thus I must be careful to commit. This, I believe, is what makes academic "playmakers". Being able to follow the research as it leads without being burned by quick ideas.
Here is one of the best burners that ever played the game: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMzyMglPvw8
enjoy!
Also enjoy reading a number sources with mastery of reason and a wide vision of research! For a list of great books on the topic I have been researching, hit me up on facebook (too mnay for here!)

"Information is not knowledge"- Albert Einstein  

Go ahead...make my dinner

The aroma of sweet failure fills my nose. The onion, garlic, basil. The sounds of boiling pasta and stirring sauce fill the kitchen. I, the "captain" of this meal, have been relegated to toaster man.  Portuguese say they have the best cuisine in all of Europe... hard to disagree with. It is an art, an occasion.

Never tell a European you are going to cook dinner, and then pull out jars of sauce... never... seriously.  You will be making a trip to the market, then you will watch as THEY cook you dinner. And the sauce? From scratch. The toast, well that is for garlic bread,  rubbed with a garlic clove,made with olive oil, not butter, and sprinkled with basil. The sauce is made with "sub-par" tomatoes. Who cares, it's the best I have ever had. Sweet, almost fruity. The dinner is fantastic, lessons aplenty learned, for both cooking and life.

How often do we substitute the real fresh things for the "easy" convenient things. How many experiences in life do we get from a jar, instead of making it from scratch. We can take more time, I think, to slow down and take the long road journey. The ones where it may take more effort, with less worldly gain. We may have conditioned ourselves to picking up jars in life, instead of spending just a little more time to create from scratch. Our relationships, our art, our lifestyles, our projects, our work. We are bound by the chains of enculturation and habit, be they breakable as to our will.

Sometimes we need to be shown the road slowly traveled, one that may not take as long as we think it would, or will take longer than we think. But distance is not so challenging as the experiences are precious. I think it is time to slow down our paces, start from scratch, even if just a few things in life, one at a time.

Walking through the town of Alvore, we are struck with the livelyliness of the late night. I cannot help but notice the traditional lifestyle layered behind the skin of international influence, Irish pubs, American steakhouses, Jamacan bars. However, the Portuguese spirit has resolve, it has staying power.The Portuguese have traveled the world giving and recieving. They have brought worlds to their front door. Tourism has brought fancy lights and cuisines and clothes. But you will be struck by the old, the traditional. the Portuguese way. No encroachment, economy, generation, no cultural force will cover this face in the streets, like an old friend in the crowd, you cannot miss.

"For it is in giving that we receive."-St. Francis

Roundabouts, Portugese , and the hegemony of difference

Happy Fourth of July Americans! Today, for us, we celebrate the start of something new. A new concept, borne of many old ones. But, as all notes are old, they can be composed to be a new symphony. What our country has grown to be, and is growing to be is unique, as mosaics are unique from the pieces they are built from. Not all bad, not all good, just unique.

Here in Portugal, life is different.  No less unique, just different. The catalyst for my focus on the differences are the roundabouts and language.

Interestingly, roundabouts are few and far between in America. Some of you may never have had the pleasure, or nightmare, of experiences one. They symbolize a different approach to civic reality. Life, and roads, are not laid out into neat squares and grids. Roundabouts bring together seemingly random paths and spin-cycle them into direction. For those not used to it, it can be frustrating. The culture here seems to operate on a roundabout way of life. It is important to see different as something other than bad, otherwise you'll have a frustrating life, no doubt. Things here don't follow my expectations for praxis, it seems everything is a roundabout. Issues are dealt with in a roundabout way, issues appear in a roundabout way. As I find myself constantly tripping on the cobblestone streets and sidewalks, so also with the way of life here.

I must remember though, I am in a new land. Time and sensitivity are my allies, pride and arrogance my enemies.

The language is my other catalyst. Portuguese is a difficult language, locally admitted too. It is a complex tongue, and as a local friend expressed, unchanged (unadulterated?) for thousands if years (unlike, as he would say, other Latin languages). This language represents, or reflects their culture. Power distance is still a factor in their language their culture. Today I was told that if you want to name your child a "non-normal" name (or one that contains a Y, K, or TH among others) you would have to get special permission (if you were a Portuguese citizen and not sharing citizenship from somewhere else). This would be unthinkable, rebellion worthy rather, in the states. What is wrapped up here though, is a history of communal reality living. Although one accuse a state of reigns too tight, there is also an aspect of the collective. I find myself cringing at the thought of being told that I would need special permission to name my child what I would like, but again, I am a guest in someone else's home.  The language is beautiful, and looks almost nothing like it is spelled. It is defiant to me epigraphically, defying my expectations for pronunciations. But is a song to speak.

As we learn to speak this ancient language, we are comforted by a wonderful teacher (who happens to be friends with one of my gymnastics heroes from the states). They say that English is a common language to most countries, but what is not considered is the strain and attitude that may accompany it. English language and Western culture may hold a hegemony on the world, but it holds nothing to the hegemony of difference. To really make connections, you have to step away from the power that you may hold (or think that you do). To sacrifice is to make a difference, not to conquer.  What is easy may not be what is right, or helpful. We all face differences inter-personally, inter-culturally, that's life.

But I am encouraged. People seem to appear as gifts when life, and language, get's strained. I know we are being taken care of. I have hope  when it seems to be pulled away. I know these gifts are not from my hands, and I am thankful, and convicted to be humble, sacrificial.

“While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to have it even more fully in your heart.” 

― St. Francis of Assisi