thoughts of a certain kind

I struggle to sit down and spend time in wading in my own thoughts. I often like to think that time gets the better of me and before I know it, I've lost it... but it's not really true. I actually just struggle to put words to what I'm feeling.

There's a lot more in my head than there used to be. The mass of thoughts in my head turned from hundreds of tiny pebbles into one massive boulder. The great thing about pebbles is that you can pick one up and just go through them one at a time. With boulders, you just don't know where to start. Do you start at the part with the jagged edges because that's easier than the smooth? Do you start at the top? or the bottom? I don't know.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about God, spirituality and community. I want to be more in-tune with the Spirit. I've known for a while now what he wills for my life and how he wants to breakthrough some stone cold areas but I just never let him. "I never have the time".
I don't read my bible nearly as much as I should. How much actually should I? Every day? Well you're lucky if I open it once a month and even then, it's probably because I'm trying to reference something.
And community... can we do it better? I think we can. I think we in the western world put in some pretty half-arsed efforts at community. Maybe it's because I grew up Samoan and just saw it done differently. Maybe I have different expectations. I just want to be able to get excited about something and share that with my community but it's so hard when I'm just not sure whether my community wants to hear it at the time that I want to speak it. I think we can do it better.

Well I'm starting again... starting the blogster in hope that I'll find my way to something inspiring...

arohanui,
Lani

to Samoa with love...

When I first arrived in Samoa, I was the "white girl". People are attracted to foreigners. Unfortunately, I attracted mosquitoes too. It made me stand out even more. I had bites all up my legs. The villagers told me what I should do... massage the swelling with tea leaves... use coconut oil to repel the mosquitoes... sometimes they even helped to massage the swelling too. And for a few days afterwards, they constantly asked me if I was ok. Then they'd tell me I need to have more salt baths. So I'd go across the road to the sea and bathe my legs, always accompanied by some worried friend, family and maybe a following of small children who had nothing else to do.

* * * * *

I remember once walking through the village. My cousin and I took a trip around to the back of the village. Trailing behind me was a following of small children who had nothing else to do. So they came with us to check out the old school graves. That was quite an experience. It felt like there was an untouched world back there. We walked through a few metres of bush before we found the first grave. It was like massive piles of stones were gathered and grouped together to mark the bodies of village ancestors. We walked through some more bush and found even more graves. They were all completely unmarked. To the average westerner with no time for stories, they were just stones. But the average Samoan knew which grave belonged to whom. My grandmother knew them all. We spent some part of that afternoon clearing weed and moss off the graves.

* * * * *

I was running the shop by myself when it got robbed. I was upset. Between looking after my grandmother and doing various other things on the family land, having no money was the last thing I needed. The women across the road were always out on the road selling fagu sea. I asked them if they had seen anything. They got angry. They were angry at the injustice of having something stolen from me. Then they asked someone else. Another woman stopped by the shop and asked me exactly what happened. I told her my story and because I couldn't leave my grandma, she roamed the village asking people if they knew what happened. No one ever got found out but people offered to step in and help where I lacked support. I had trouble cooking meals and managing a shop so one of the women across the road would cook meals for me and bring them over. People didn't have much but they gave what they could. They'd give me their morning catch of fish or the fruit from their land. They offered me their protection.

* * * * *

We had a dog named Shaggy. He was a bit old and lost in many ways. We had other dogs too so Shaggy often got left out when it came to proper care. We didn't take care of him very well at all. When my aunt and uncle moved with the other dogs, Shaggy stayed with me. Because it was just me, grandma and Shaggy, I took better care of him. Turns out he could take pretty good care of me too.

I went across the road to the ocean. People don't often cross the houses on the very edge of the coast because they've got some crazy dogs that like biting. I often don't cross without my cousins. Since my cousins weren't around, I was on my own. As I was walking across the road, Shaggy followed. He followed me out to sea, fought off some dogs for me and followed me home after I had finished doing what I was doing. He slept at my feet (and usually brought a host of flies with him). He was loyal.

* * * * *

I'm not sure I can start with the funny moments. Believe me there were plenty of laughs. There were moments where my cousin and I would stand at the shop counter and laugh at the world that was going by. People often presume that it goes slower than the western world. The pace isn't necessarily about a particular slowness. It's just different. Some people work harder than people I've seen here in New Zealand. A day may start at 4:30am and mightn't finish 'til 9pm. But everything is done in communities. If I need to go clean the house, someone else will help me. If I need to go to the shop and get something, someone will come and help me carry back the groceries or make sure the dogs stay away. If I'm making "ice-cakes" for the shop (they're pretty much just frozen juice in a polystyrene cup), guaranteed one or two of the kids will help me. Then we'll walk down to the neighbouring village and get cokes.

Seriously, I know they're just how the earth rolls but man tsunami's suck.

testimonials and hip hop...

I like being able to be myself. I think it feels uncomfortable because you feel so different from everyone else, but the biggest similarity between you and everyone else is that everyone feels uncomfortable for the same reason. Well maybe not everyone but most people.

Last week, me and my homegroupies talked about ways to keep it real. By that, I mean that we don't seem to have a real core. There was a definite start point where people joined because they wanted to be part of an active movement. But the wonderings of the present seem to be centred around the idea that there's no strong core that drives the active movement. So how do you grow a strong core? I'm not sure. I don't think any of us really are but we're starting at the point of sharing pieces of ourselves.
Now I can definitely tell you that I'm not that comfortable telling my story. It's not because I'm a shy person but rather because it's a bit of an uncomfortable story. But I know that I have to suck it in and get over it. It's not quite as harsh as that but part of being in community means vulnerability. All well and good sharing what we're comfortable with but how are we ever going to fix what makes us uncomfortable if we keep trying to hide it. Active communities were never designed to be comfortable. I'm sure if God wanted to model comfortable, he wouldn't have sent his son to die on a cross. ... coz I'm SO sure Jesus was pretty comfortable hanging there on a plank of wood.

Life is uncomfortable. It actually makes you want to quit sometimes. Well... me anyway. I get tired. But I also get complacent. Often when you're tired, you take the easiest route possible and the hope that it'll get you some place real good. But then you find you're in the same crap place you saw yourself coming up to. You just took the long road to get there. Or... me anyway.

Also... I like hip hop. I've always been a bit scared of liking hip hop because people are so anti but I found some underground stuff that's actually amazing. I mean, all that mainstream junk is rubbish but the stuff that doesn't get noticed... man it's gold.

simple expressions

I wonder if it's possible to count how many words I say in a day. I've been thinking about the simplicity of expression. Why do we find the need to talk so much? Is most of what we say actually just rubbish?

I wonder if I need to think about ways to say less. I'm not sure how to do it. I need to think about listening without speaking. Maybe I have hours during the day that I shouldn't speak.

From the moment I arrive at work until morning tea, I won't speak except to greet people with more than just a superficial "hi, how are you?" Simplicity of expression. Maybe I really need to challenge myself with this. Maybe it'll require a whole new thought pattern. Maybe it'll mean that I actually have to think about what I say and I'll actually have to think about which conversations I partake in.

differences, tensions and conflict avoidance

I haven't really done one of these for a while and I'm not sure I really know what to write. I guess it's easier to be as vague as possible. That's not because I don't want to pierce beyond the superficial. It's mainly because I'm not really sure how much to disclose when I have no idea who reads this thing.

I think I'm pretty upset at the moment. I've hit that part in my job where politics and differences in personal philosophies mean that there are tensions that just rub too hard against each other. I can't really say I know what to do with it. This weekend was the first time I've wanted to throw my job in since I started. That, in no way means I will. I wouldn't be doing my job very well if I didn't want to throw it in sometimes. It has the potential to break ya sometimes I think. That doesn't mean it's all bad.

Truth is, I love the kids I work with. It's funny how differently grown adults can come to a situation and see different things. I have a heart for the community kids. Those are the kids I see with the most potential. Others see those kids as having the most potential to ruin everything. The very kid who most would say was on the fringes is actually the one with the pleases and thankyous. He's the kid who opens doors for his peers and walks little old ladies across the road. People would know that if they spent enough time with him.

I really want a stronger backbone but I think I'd become completely desensitised if I did. I wouldn't cry for the failing kid if I had too strong a backbone. Somehow I have to fight these politics though. I guess on behalf of those misunderstood kids, yeah I do.

I dunno... tired... I love my job though. It just upsets me sometimes...

Thankful...

This morning in church, the pastor asked us to call out some of the things we're grateful for. I think I'm grateful for quite a lot.
Thanks God for music, for really good juicy peaches, refreshing water, Esquire's apple juice, connectivity, community, sunshine, trees, perspectives that humble us. And right now, I'm especially grateful for glimmers of hope.

As a world we've grown a lot. Finding indicators of our global growth is quite hard but a simple look into the fact that America has a black president might put things into perspective. We still have a long way to go but we've still come so far and I'm incredibly grateful that I don't live in a world where it's alright to shun someone because of their skin colour. I'm excited because a few hundred years ago, a black president was unimaginable. We've got so far to go but man seeing this sort of stuff makes me realise that we can do it. We have done it and we're still doing it.

Yay God... Amen.

circular motions in finding the Lani in La-la-land...

I have a new job... Youth Worker.

I actually kinda have to smirk, not at the job but rather at the self who's taken the job after finding means to avoiding it. That said, I was never going to avoid it forever. I guess after a two year break, it often becomes a matter of when rather than if. I always knew I'd go back to it, I just didn't know when...

...But then opportunities arose and I apprehensively grabbed them by the horns (with one hand of course). Now I just signed on as a full-time youth worker to Rolleston. I'm freakin' out slightly but I'm also really excited. People are like, "wow, you're first full-time job!" "yay, full-time salary!" "It's like an actual career Lani!"
At the end of the day, it's not just a job, or just a career, or just a salary. I get to do something I really love doing. I get to help people and be involved in peoples lives. And I get to do it under a huge umbrella of one massive awesome vision for people and communities.
AHHH! Excitement!

SO yeah... I've done full circle back to the young. Two years ago, I was working with kids and then I wanted to experience something different. So I tried my hand with the elderly. It was cool in terms of learning from the elderly and their life experiences but it wasn't really my thing.

I spent two years wanting to affect whole communities, not just a small sector of it. I became slightly disillusioned by the fact that I felt like I was only helping just one part of it. But each part adds to a bigger something.
I think living in Samoa made me realise something. Our achievements are never our own. Our families own them, our friends own them, all the people we love own them. When a young person achieves, the whole community gets to own that achievement. When they fall, we all stoop down to pick them up. I love pictures of community. I love them a lot.

And with that said... bedtime... like perhaps a few hours ago... haha

With love,
Lani