pleased to dwell

I had such a beautiful morning yesterday. I woke up and walked to Open Eye to meet two of the coolest UNC grads, Christa and Elisabeth, and we laughed and talked. I felt so privileged to have been invited to meet with them; I hope to resemble them even slightly once I graduate. After our fair trade coffee and tea (it's Carrboro; what do you expect?), we went to the farmers' market to buy flowers.

With a bright bouquet in my hands, I walked to Aveda and (finally!) got my hair cut by a kind, almost-graduate from their school. For some reason, I always feel more reassurred when the person cutting my hair has a lot of tattoos and piercings. I don't know why, but I trust them more.

I came back home and made banana-cranberry bran muffins for my magazine writing class (we have to make something that the kitchen-ignorant college boy could make and then write about it). I think they turned out decently well. Baking is such a deeply cleansing, satsifying thing.

On the value of walking: Christa and I talked about this briefly (when Elisabeth ducked out to speak to the fiancee in his native tongue) this morning. Along with baking, it is also a deeply cleansing, satisfying thing. I feel like walking unties things in my head. I used to begrudge long walks and reconsider dinner plans if they were too far down Franklin, but not anymore. Something about living in Tokyo and Denver changed that. (Diane was such a huge proponent of walking in Japan because she was a budget stickler. "No matter what the bus or train costs," she'd tell me as I rolled my eyes, "your legs are always free.") I am happy to walk anywhere--for 20 minutes, for an hour, whatever. I'm not sure if I'll still feel this way once the air begins to freeze, but it's so unbelievably pleasant right now. That graceful transition from summer to fall.

Last night, we had dinner at the Steddum's to celebrate Chris's 21st birthday and recognize the great void in our life now that Catherine is in Benin. Dinner was excellent and the company even more so. I love being there. And I know my mom would love their house; it has such a peaceful aesthetic.

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"But beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty--it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life--froze it." To the Lighthouse, Woolf
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Thanks to Windy and her garage, I now have a room of my own, in the line of Woolf's essay. It's a tiny white room upstairs in the house and I have a little desk and a chair that overlook the street. I come up here to work on my thesis reading and write things. The room makes me feel oddly grown-up and European. (Do Europeans all feel more grown-up? It's odd, I've never been to Europe or been a grown-up. My perceptions, rather, of these feelings.)

Rediscovered song of the week: "Oh, Sister," by Andrew Bird

Guion convinced me to give Regina Spektor another shot. I listened to her almost non-stop freshman year and she quickly wore out. He saw her perform in Ireland, however, and told me to try her new album, "Far." And I admit that it's nice to return to Regina. She's not doing anything very differently, but it's still good. "Laughing With" isn't revolutionary or anything, but it's kind of amazing. And I've been thinking a lot about its spiritual ramifications. Guion usually directs most of my musical habits, it's fair to say. The past week, along with Regina, I've been listening exclusively to Radiohead, Jens Lekman and Neutral Milk Hotel.

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Some mornings I really like going to church alone. This was one of those mornings. I hadn't realized how much I had missed Vintage until the first song began to play. And the calm, the stillness washes up on the shore of my heart and I realize there's no where else I should be in this suspended moment. We started a new series today, "The Gospel Uncut," and Tyler's message was shattering. I feel--finally--like there is nothing else I need right now than to know the gospel. Right now, I don't need New Testament Greek or hermeneutics or predestination or "spiritual" tasks enacted out of mild guilt. I just need the elemental things. The gospel. "You're dead, Jesus is bigger than your death, and He's giving you life," Tyler said. "That's the gospel." The simple and yet inexhaustibly deep truth of Jesus. The fullness of God is pleased to dwell in Him.