Map less Maverick

A week ago today I was driving down the icy bathed Nebraska roads, headed to Kansas City, heading to my family’s goodbye dinner, heading to the airport, headed to South Africa. Today I am going to buy a bike so I can ride the bumped and thumped roads of Jbay, today I am sore from the sunburn I got yesterday, today I am looking forward to tomorrow because I will be here.

So what is here?

Here is beautiful

Here is overloaded with things to do, people to see

Here is unlike Nebraska

Here is slow moving and laid back

In my last blog I committed to here, to now, “Here's to now” I suppose were my exact words. And I must say dear friends, that living in my ‘now’ is quite a pleasant place to be. Some days I look down at that blatant ‘life’ map that is so imperceptible and on those rare days I question the un-marked paths that have the potential to lead me astray. But those days are rare indeed, the days that tap on my nerves and say “Um, excuse me, you should probably be worried you don’t know where you are going.”

But on an average day, on the days that usually fill my time, my mind, my calender, my heart. Those average days, and unblazed trails say with an excited tone, “Jordan, you have a fresh trail that is craving your footprints, you have an unmarked map that you get to not only step onto but that you get to conquer; Because this indiscernible life of yours is absolutely stoked to have you be the first maverick discerning its direction.”

But something God taught me the other day must be applied to the compass that this map is following I cannot look at the map and navigate it by asking, “Where am I? What should I do?” … my compass must ask “Where is God? How can I join Him?”

I traipsed toward the beach yesterday, found myself a spot to lay, and then took in all the sun’s glory it had to offer, as well as the sounds of the waves. After I napped (which was proof that Swedish skin should not entertain South African sun) I went to the rock pools with the family that lives above my abode. As I stood on the rock with freezing waters molding around my feet and ankles I was watching the surfers dance with the waves. This particular afternoon the waves looked agitated, it looked as if the waves wanted the sky to move over and the surfers to move on. Distracting my attention from the wave's emotional break down and the surfer’s attempted playtime. I began to watch an old South African man and his grandson. The old man wore khaki shorts, a sailor’s cap and the dignity of respect and hard work, while carrying a bag full of fish. While his grandson was down in the bitterly cold waters, throwing out the fishing net. The son wore jeans, with a stripped top, complimented with a strong accent and naivety of the world beyond this sea’s pond.

As I watched the young boy fish, with no success and the old man watch and instruct, I couldn't help but align it with my own life. Align this imagery with the gospels whenever it spoke of Jesus coming to men on their fishing boats, telling them to leave their nets and fathers and to follow him. Align it with Jesus teaching us how we are destined to be fishers of men. Align it with my current attempt of standing in the South African Sea trying to fish out some lesson, coming up empty handed and God standing beside me saying over and over again,

“Cast your net again, my child.”

The winter’s wind picked me up and planted me in the summer’s sun. It planted me not in the spot of my choice, but in the spot of God’s presence; not in the spot of my strengths, but in the spot of my weaknesses; not in the place of my visions, but in the place that slept in my blind spot. All the characters in my life are growing older, I assume I am too. I’m a cross between my parents and a hippie in a hut; I’m a cross between a roaming rebel and a compliant conformist. I’m a cross between the boy who stays to fish and the boy who leaves it all behind.

I’ve made a living with these words I write, my journal as my companion, wanting desperately to belong. But never desperate enough to stick around and stick in, maybe some day I’ll settle down, maybe someday I’ll actually catch a bag-worth of fish, maybe someday I’ll have a trail marked on my map, maybe someday my map will be predictable and readable. Or maybe … not.

Maybe I’ll always be the maverick cowgirl, stuck on a beach with sun too strong, stuck on a road with no end in sight. Guess I could have made it easier on myself….

Nah… the man and the sea serenade me too strongly to succumb.

Here's to day Two

Well it is now day two of my South African adventure. Everything is slow here, (for the moment) which is pleasant and a nice change of pace from my regular life back in the states. Yesterday I got a tour of Jeffreys Bay, the town I am living in. Driving down the winding roads Jeffreys Bay has its own feel to this quaint surf town hidden away in the nook of South Africa's eastern cape. Although, I have yet to figure out exactly what it is.

But that's not the only thing I have yet to figure out. I have to figure out why I am here. Why on earth did I travel over 9,634 miles across the world to end up on a beach with a population of no more than 8,000 people. Well I suppose I don't have to figure it out, but I would like to. Because the only way to describe the path my mind goes, the weight my heart holds, the sound my soul is playing is: bewildered, muddled, addled, befuddled,disoriented, flummoxed, clueless, discombobulated. It doesn't matter what word you use, they are all the same.

The sea helps calm me in the midst of this confusion though, the sea has always helped to calm me so I suppose it is good I am now living only a few blocks from it. This morning I took a run from my flat down the winding hills to find the water. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, you know, she had no idea where she was or even who she was in that moment, but she decided "Well there is gravity to keep my feet planted on the ground and there is air for me to breathe, I may as well go look around."

Running barefoot on that soft sand you know you aren't in America's mid-west anymore. As I ran this morning there was an overcast coloring the billows that fell upon the white-crested waves of the sea and a southern wind that blew unlike Nebraskan's "I will knock you over" wind - but it blew as if it were a child who was running so hard to you to hug you even faster, because he loved you so much. It blew hard, swarmed you and then gave you a moment to breathe.

You could hear the chords that play the

beat that the South African's march to, sounds of work, sounds of status, sounds of pride whether it be bathed with dignity or indignity. As I ran the open shore line that was stamped with rocks to go out and greet the waves, I ran alone.

I crossed the east side of America, to fly over the Sargasso Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, to rest in Dakar to fly once again the length of Africa's country. And there I stood on the beach, alone, wondering about the land of Antarctica, that lays just on the other side of the water. But I am not alone, I know I will never be lonely. I have songs in my blood that carry the love of the Lord.

You know He understands the waters and how to make fishers of men, our God is a man of the sea. And ultimately I have left everything I know, everyone I know to follow the man and the sea. Knowing confidently that when that moment comes when I wade to deep into these waters that He will rescue me.

So here's to now. Here's to being lost in a whirlwind of confusion, here's to not having a map to life. Here's to surfing the seas, turning something that can kill you into your very own playground. Here's to now. Here's to having a dream, even if you don't know exactly what that dream is, here's to chasing your dreams, even if you don't have a path laid before you. Here's to the acceptance that sometimes you have to wave goodbye, not only to your home and to your safety net, but to yourself. Here's to leaving everything behind to follow the man and the sea.

Intro: Pipe Pilgrimage

It’s been quite a while since I last blogged. Over a month even, which is indeed quite some time. It’s not because I wasn’t stumbling across new information or didn’t have any issues that made my heart pound; no, it’s not that at all. But the past weeks have been a waiting period (just like the past 6 months). A waiting period for what I will be taking part in in 3 days. It’s not as if I have been sitting uselessly, waiting doing nothing with my time, making nothing of my time. It’s just all been, for me, too personal to jot down in some scribbled mess upon this blog of mine.

But, now I’m here, I’m back and I’m back to stay. For at least a year that is. Because I have told you in recent blogs, but let me refresh that brilliant mind of yours in case you may have lost sight of this scandalous endeavor I am partaking in. In less than a mere 62 ½ hours I will be boarding a plane that will be lifting off the Kansas City ground but it will be destined for South African soil. Because I have gotten accepted (only God knows why) for a surfing internship (because I’m from Nebraska) to do ministry (because I have a degree from Ozark, can I do anything else?) in South Africa (did you know there are white people there?) for an entire year (ok well actually just 11months).

I can’t explain to you how I feel about this grand adventure. But please, let me attempt. I am anxious. I have been preparing for this for the past 7 months; I know this is where God wants me to be for this next season, I feel so lucky and blessed to have an opportunity working with this specific organization. I am still shocked, It hasn’t hit me yet. Like I said I’ve been preparing for 7 months, I can’t believe it’s finally here. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I feel like I will still be here, in America, in normal life, this time next week. I have some fears. I’m afraid that it will be terribly hard and God will stretch me in ways I am afraid to stretch. I will miss my relationships here more than Santa Clause misses his elves on Christmas Eve Night. I am probably going to get eaten by a shark. I am happy right now where I am sitting and I am happy for where I will be sitting when the time comes, right now I'm happy in good ‘ol Lexington Nebraska. I’m glad I have a couple days left here in America, I’m glad I have some hours left with my dear family, I’m glad I’m going to South Africa; but I am going on God’s time. It has always been that way, whether I have had to wait 4 years, 7 months or 2 days.

I have to admit I am deeply going to miss America. I am sure once I have been living and breathing and eating on South African soil for a few months straight I will be writing up a list of American items that I long for. But off the top of my head I know I am going to miss snow. I love snow, full powdery snow. If I could snowboard every day on fluffy dry snow, I think I may push this surfing excursion back. I’m going to miss cowboys and Huskers and never worrying about my safety, essentially (I can’t believe I am saying this) I am going to miss the mid-west. But like I said, give me a few months I’m sure (maybe) (ok possibly) (alright, probably not) going to miss America.

My life has been full; every day of my 22 years and everyday of these past few weeks that I have been absent from this blogging world. But now dear readers (those sparse ones that I actually have, by the way thank you) I am re-opening the door. The door that says “Hello blog readers, this is my life, this is me Jordan raw and in a haphazard pile of the alphabetical letters, come in and sit for a bit, because I have loads to tell you.” :) Enjoy. For today is merely the small introduction of the 'Pipe Pilgrimage' (pipe for surfing and pilgrimage for journey) that I am stepping into full-throttle, fully-exposed, fully-about-to-drown myself into!

ART FEEDS

I just had breakfast with my wonderful friend Meg. Meg started a non-profit called Art Feeds. Art Feeds began as an outreach to one basic classroom in a very basic form, just tying to meet needs. Now they provide art for a variety of children, with a variety of needs, to a variety of classrooms. The very "basic" has fallen into a genre of "essential" therapy. Traveling to, working in, loving on in-need classrooms, after school programs and across the globe to their partners in Africa, ArtFeeds provides children the tools they need to develop creatively. Through music, art, writing, photography, dance and performing arts, Art Feeds teaches children how to express themselves in a positive and uplifting manner. They seek to allow children to build themselves up through unique expression and creative passions. They create programs that are relevant and meet the needs within the communities they serve. These communities include- special needs classrooms, behavioral disorder classrooms and after school care. Their focus is to make a difference in each child’s life through mentorship and community engagement. Art Feeds does this by bringing art back into the classroom and making art an accessible outlet in children’s lives.

Art Feeds lives by the motto "Love Naively. Give Generously.Be Foolishly Compassionate"

and they succeed in living that out. I want to encourage you to engage in this movement. They are working their hearts and their bodies, giving their time and their love to the children that they work with. You can do

nate to their cause - which your donations now will be going to Ghana in efforts to create art packages for children. Donate money, donate art supplies, donate your time. You as an American have a lot to give, so start giving whether that be a one time act or a continually commitment. Don't have the image of a regular, rather spoiled child getting art supplies and just playing. Picture that child that has been abused in more ways than one, that child that has not only been deprived of true, unconditional love but been deprived of the essence of his childhood, picture that child and how that small paint brush and small piece of paper help him not

only process the damage he has been put through, not only how those tools become a healthy outlet of the pain he has felt, but how that brush and paper actually heal his heart and mend that wound.

By donating to this cause you are not merely donating paints and paper, you are donating a tangible form of healing, of love.

Go to... http://www.indiegogo.com/Art-Feeds-Ghana if you would like to donate to the Ghana project.

Go to these... If you want to learn more about ArtFeeds

http://www.artfeeds.org http://www.myspace.com/artfeeds http://www.twitter.com/ART_FEEDS

ok - Here's the deal... Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's just not. (Dr. Seuss) So how about you start to care? How about you start to make the world better? How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. (Anne Frank) How wonderful is it that you can start right this instance to care? to better the lives of others? I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do. (Edward Everett Hale) I understand, there are a lot of obstacles; time, money, other priorities; that stand in your way of changing the world right now, today. But how can you let those obstacles stand in the way? How can you allow busy-ness to cast a cloud of procrastination onto your desires for change? Because...It is the greatest of all mistakes to do nothing because you can only do little - do what you can. Right now. (Sydney Smith) If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one. (Mother Teresa) That will make all the difference, in the world. He who gives when he is asked has waited too long. (Sunshine Magazine) So your already behind, you've already procrastinated this for Far Too Long! So... Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light. (Norman B. Rice) Dare yourself to not only Find a need But to fill it. (Ruth Stafford Peale) You must be the change you wish to see in the world. (Mahatma Ghandi)

Because all summed up and because in the end the only things that matter are people, are their hearts. So if your going to put anything off - why are you allowing it to be the beating of the hearts that make our world go round? I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love. (Mother Teresa).

el presidento

I'm reading Abraham Lincoln's biography currently, thanks to Sonja Ferkel. It's absolutely amazing and studpendous. I suggest you find a favorite president. A president no matter who he is or where he succeeds or fails is a leader. Has a way of making decisions that are not only wise for themselves but for a nation. Hence the suggestion that you get yourself a favorite president, read their biographies, study how they made decisions, how they faced trials and tribulations (because they all did) and their cons and pros in leadership ability. I think by studying them, wether doing in-depth research on a specific topic and looking closely as the strategy behind the process or by just reading their quotes, it will give you advice and wisdom so that you yourself can be a better leader or at least just have wise decision making habits. We all need a mentor, to be better for ourselves, to be better for others. So why not have a couple mentors, why not look to someone who is in close vicinity that gets that face-to-face time with you. But why not also have someone who is far away? So, go out readers and find your favorite president and get some wisdom!

Abraham Lincoln is my favorite by far, he was such an amazing man who did so many amazing things. A man of very few words but captured everyone when he did speak. A man who did so much for our nation and always put America ahead of himself or any individual. He

was always 5 steps ahead of everyone else, seeing the potential we carried.

Did you know they make Abraham Lincoln dolls?! I want one :)

America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.

Abraham Lincoln

Avoid popularity if you would have peace.
Abraham Lincoln

Die when I may, I want it said by those who knew me best that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.
Abraham Lincoln

As I would not be a slave, so I would not be a master. This expresses my idea of democracy.
Abraham Lincoln

As our case is new, we must think and act anew.
Abraham Lincoln

Sail Away

With my feet warming from the fire and my throat lusting from my black coffee, do I dare begin to awake the ambitious adventurer that lies within my bones? This question is one that must be asked of a person who thrives to be in the sea of uncertainty. Because you see, if you awake the wanderer inside it’s like waking a bear before spring. You stir awake in surprise at what winter took away and feel that gripping hunger in the pit of your stomach to feed what you are longing for. In fear that I may jump off this familiar shore to pursue those unclaimed trails and to see the unknown with my own eyes; I believe this ravishing desire must be tapped into with utmost caution. Just like every other emotion and characteristic, a free spirit is no exception, it must be controlled and tamed. Nonetheless, it is a desire that must be let out and fed. Just like the winds of the sea, they must roam the earth with a forceful presence; nonetheless the sailors sails must be strong enough to capture them, to use them effectively.

This uncontrollable craving has consumed me since childhood. Like a soldier stuck in a terrible war, you cannot leave the wanderlust natives stuck in a desolate position. You cannot harness the passion that resides in the trailblazers of our world; they’ll break through and run wild and rampant. As I grew, I never had that harness tied too tight. Being raised with my parents pushing individualism and discovery. They were the encouraging type, never the over-protective type. I suppose that is the only way I got myself on that airplane, alone and sixteen, headed for Africa. The only way I got my elementary self to the off-limits side of the waterfall, opposite of the marked out Rocky Mountain trail that my family was cruising.

My fierce longing for intoxicating thrills and gyrate jaunts probably started to form the fibers of my bones long before I can imagine. Maybe it was my great-great German granddad who wandered into Nebraska to gain a plot of land and to start a farm, a family, and a life from scratch. Then again maybe it resides in the history with the pilgrimage of my other grandfather, Evald Greenwall, when he sailed here from the Swedish seas. Venture plunging and that sauntering stature flows in my family’s blood, but can I deny that those same longings are held by my patriotic forefathers? Our entire country is founded by those who lived across the waters and trekked to America, whether it was for religious or economic reasons. The 1600’s were not the last to hold days of successful traveling farther westward, farther from their homes in search of the new frontier. Who knows how many families were inspired by Daniel Boone’s explorations into the “Eden of the West.”

I will always claim my American roots and stand with my hand in a patriotic position as that star striped flag waves. Although, I love my great nation I cannot lie and say this is where I was born and this is where I will die. My heart has buried itself in the foreign soils that I have seen, as well as those that I have only dreamed about. My daydreaming is continually packed full with visions of land, food, music, and architectures that do not match those of America. So maybe this initial stirring started in my bones from my fathers before me, but it started in my heart that first time I set foot on Mexican soil in my adolescence. It grew from there leading me to travel every chance I could, be it through American territories or countries spread across the earth.

I played with the children not much younger than I on the Mexican dirt just south of the border. They helped open my eyes to the world beyond my own. I stood intrigued in amazement as the African women jumped and yelped in church service with the mountains and safari life in the background. My heart grew more attached as I cried next to the Jamaican girls that I connected with better than the American girls that overwhelmed my home culture. But my curiosity continued to peak when I walked the cobble stoned streets of Ancona, Italy practicing Italian after my language lesson and effortlessly gaining weight from gelato every night. I became committed to the international world when I faced hardships and trials in Bangkok’s schools. This is when I realized that I would rather be miserable teaching English in the Thailand heat then live comfortably in my box in America. Through laughter and tears, amazement and wonder, I started a passionate love affair with these alien cultures.

If wanderlust is romantic, it can also be perilous. I had to learn this lesson in a ruthless, relentless way when I got my blonde, nineteen year old self stuck in the southern borders of Mexico, in the Chiapas territory. Being held at gunpoint by the organized soldiers of the Gorilla rebels, the Zapatistas, I had to accept the fact that I had stumbled into water high over my head. It’s one thing to admit you have done something stupid, like jumped into the water impulsively without knowing how to swim, its another to stand there realizing you jumped in with the shortage of swimming skills, into shark infested waters. But that is part of venturing, exploring, discovering; how do you expect to get to greatness without a bit of folly? The best experiences aren’t out in the open for all to taste; they are the ones hiding behind risk and his brother danger.

Some people, those who fear even the border of their comfort box would say that my life has been full, that my life has seen risk and adventure. But when I look at what I have accomplished, where I have walked, where I stood and where I fell it is a minor detail in what I see my future holding. By the end of 1862 Abraham Lincoln declared, “The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate for the stormy present.” I hope that my past experiences are whispers compared to the experiences I will gain. I will hopefully learn and take lessons from my past, from my defeats and my winnings, sending them into my future. I have hopefully become a woman of stature and stoic throughout the past twenty-two years. Using my past days as winds for my present sails.

Do I fully know my credo? Not exactly. Do I have a firm opinion on all the principles and morals of my life? Not nearly. But I do have a set foundation; I do have a strong base that lays the groundwork for flying away. Could a rocket ship ever make it to the moon if it was launched from a swamp? You have to lay that concrete as a solid, almost unyielding surface. Being a journey junkie is being open-minded, accepting and natural in ambiguity. Being thick enough to be able to put yourself in situations where you may lose your innocence, but never your substance. If your heart is the essence of a free-spirited bird you have to open the cage door and let it fly. Allow it to explore the lands that were formed in seven days by the God of the Bible. But if your bird’s wings are clipped, or not strong enough for the flight, do not be foolish enough to believe you’re adequate enough for the flight.

I don’t believe wanderlust wishing must be running in your veins, or your family tree for that matter in order to venture out; but by this warm fire I will stay, until I know my maturity’s foundation is rooted deep down into the soil. My sails are opening and are yearning for those winds, and when the day comes and the winds blow and kisses them, pushing them into the dark storm of the night that conceals the world’s most hidden treasures, I will take them in. I will take in the winds, with the blows and the blusters along with the endearments and sacraments. For I am merely a sailor standing at shore with water to my knees being guiding by the starlit structures overhead.

GeT InsPIRed

“I can never stand still. I must explore and experiment. I am never satisfied with my work. I resent the limitations of my own imagination.”

- Walt Disney

   Today I am feeling so inspired! Not for sure, possibly the fantastic cup of Sidamo natural coffee I am sipping or even the musical piano notes that are playing in my ears, or maybe it is just because in my line of view I can see a giant picture of a vintage airplane flying in the clouds. 

   I believe in inspiration and imagination, I believe these two things could possibly be the largest things that help us become not only who we are but what we do, what we create. Because what does inspire you? Is it music, people, films, clothes, buildings, cities, nature, love? What has that capability of sparking your hearts wires so that they ignite within one another and light a little flame in your heart, that has the potential to send a warm wave throughout your entire body, touching every limb and fiber that creates the physical and mortal structure of YOU. What match is it? And if there isn't one, if you cannot think of a moment when you heard your heart pounding and your mind going wild and your smile uncontainable, then dear friend Go, find that spark! 

   Because what inspires your imagination will help you figure out who you are, who you were destined to be. It will help you create yourself, outside of yourself. If you planted a garden today of inspiration, a garden of what your tangible imagination would look like; what would be planted in that garden? 

Go, explore, experiment, be invigorated, be inspired. Touch the corners of your heart that are yearning to get out and be heard. Allow yourself to show the world who YOU truly are. Because seeing the core of your heart and the mechanics of your inner clock work, is inspiring to the rest of us :)