it's strange to see just one door waiting

Karoline bought me an advent calendar just before the season started. It hangs above my bed as a sweet reminder that each day ticks by, always closer to the holy night.

Now that we're done with shopping (well, I am. I hope you are too) and we are just about ready to snuggle into the holiday. It's strange how anti-climactic it can all seem.

They took down the Weihnachtsmarkt today in the city center. I was properly bummed as I walked through, all the once festively adorned little shacks stripped bare if present at all. The season comes and goes; it must; it is part of life. But still I look at my little calendar with the one door waiting and wonder. I wonder what it we are waiting for.

We know by now that this wasn't actually the time our Lord was born, but rather just a time of celebration. We know by now that all our traditions and stories have little to do with the actual events; they're more a mix of old heathen ideas, misunderstandings, and things decreed long ago. But still I'll wait to open the last door.

But I don't want to wait another year to celebrate, and I don't mean having Christmas in July. I want to sing our "Christmas" songs every day, always remembering that God actually came to be one of us for a while. So much is packed into what happened, so much poured into our reality. What are we waiting for?

.jrs.

you wanna give a quarter

just because you can?

act three: the future

so what's to come from me, what's to come of me?

what's my path, where will i go from here?

i would like to say i know, and i think i do. did i tell you about the puzzle pieces yet? the one's that i think i've been finding and putting together? the painting i think i've been working out over time? the one i don't want to show anyone?

maybe i will finally find all the edge pieces; maybe i will go buy a watercolor set from the store.

what i do know i want to do with my life is be worth something. i want to share my blessings and make lives around our world better. i want to shape the context in which we live, not because i think i see a better way, but rather because i know i see a better day.

i haven't seen things so revealed that they could drive the hearts of thousands to change, i've just seen that things can be better.

i've seen that we can figure stuff out and we can come together to work our figuring into reality.

and that is what i will be a part of.

i will be a part of reality.

(secretly i do not know what i'm talking about, but let's just keep that between you and me.)

.jrs.

intermission 2

quiet music plays in the background

intermission

i just realized that i miss npr. dumb thing to miss. i don't miss much to be honest. i'm still not sure if that's good or not. most people i would see or have contact with i can still see or have contact with via email, facebook, skype (it's great to actually video chat with people. ive always thought it was cool, so i wouldn't say i miss anyone really.

sure i look forward to seeing everyone again.

it's more the things i can't really get or shouldn't be spending my time on here.
npr just happens to be one of my things.
strange.

oh well.

back to the show.

act two: scene two also to be known as "connected"

an empty room, only a shadow of a light brings to view the silhouette of a chair off to one side, also empty.

suddenly, someone is sitting in the chair. the room is bright, white.
sitting on the chair is jacob.
he begins to speak, quietly at first, but as time draws on he seems to believe what he is saying, and so speaks with greater tempo and volume.

jacob:
we're connected to everything now. somehow i came to a clip on youtube once about the ten dimensions we can understand, well, someone can understand. everything was connected. everything keeps moving on, time, space, eternity, all moving but we can only see our tile of it.

then i was getting ready to write some letters, some christmas letters. perfect time to listen to some music. i couldn't think of who to write to. more importantly i couldn't think of who not to write to. i didn't even put on christmas music.

then rage against the machine popped up. i like the song. it was a live version. when i heard it i thought about everything again.

we're all connected.

we have it all at our fingertips now, and it's only drawing closer to our hearts, up our sleeves, soaking our shirts. music, times, people, from all over. rage, barry manilow, some random rap music, christians, muslims, country, people from all over the world, and that's just in my itunes. and that's just in my head.

so i think of this and (and my mind wanders more often than not. i hate it when i try to pray sometimes and realized i quit praying three minutes ago and started thinking about squirrels and/or candy wrappers.) and my mind drifts to how we are all connected, but we are still so far apart. it does not make any sense.

so what do i do? i set myself to change the world.

light flicks off. jacob's outline looks up, surprised by the end of the scene.

act two: scene one

we find ourselves in a small room on the third floor of a house in Jena-Ost. the bed is almost neatly made with a blanket and little white bear halfway tucked between the blanket and the pillow. a thin sweater sits on the stool just behind the open door. the radiator bubbles away slightly. air has gathered in the pipes and needs to be let out. a few books, some partially read, others never really opened yet are perched upon the windowsill looking out to the world.

the hour is just past one in the afternoon. the house is quiet save for the preparation of lunch down in the kitchen.

jacob tosses his backpack onto the bed and reaches for his computer.

he stops, and looks out the window.

why haven't i read those books yet, he thinks to himself.
i want some candy, he thinks again, as he reaches over the frame of the bed to the shelf finding a simple, blue wrapped treat. peanuts, caramel, and chocolate. delicious.

what do i want with this life, jacob thinks.
i can't believe i don't think about this more. but i do. i think about it a lot. i think about it all the time. but i never find my answers. but i do. i find them a lot. i find my answers all the time. but i never follow them.

jacob is met with this truth rather aggressively. maybe i should eat some more candy, he thinks. maybe i should not have candy, he thinks again.

maybe i should write down my answers, that could help me follow them, but he knows this is not true.

in a few days, jacob will read an idea about being in reality weaker than one thinks one is, and he will begin to wonder.

act one:scene three

by now our friend jacob has lost the desire to rethink his situation every time he meets people (have i told you recently that i've been habitually typing meat in place of meet and then changing it to its intent. huh. wonder what that means. i also used to always write a "b" when i wanted a "p" even typing it in that way, which is much more concerning seeing as how the letters typed aren't nearly as similar as they are spelled. huh.).

enter kulturebahnhoff, the second floor cafe in the fairly rundown saalbahnhoff not far from the center of Jena. the night is monday, the time is fairly late, but still hours before an average person of jacob's age would find himself in bed. the weather is horrible. it has been raining since earlier this afternoon, taking only the briefest of breaks to snow, then returning to the sludgy drizzle. but our friend has an umbrella. take that rain. ha.

of course the normally brisk fifteen minute walk is not much different than usual, but along the way through this less than favorable weather jacob thinks to himself if anyone will really come today. maybe he should have checked facebook before he left.

surely enough, upon opening the door, jacob is met by an almost empty room. as he turns to leave, he sees a face. "hey i know him."

matthias: "uh, hallo?"
jacob: "oh hey." they are here after all, but just two or three of the usual ten-fifteen.
matthias: "so, where are the rest of us?"
jacob: "ha, yeah, this weather is pretty bad."

conversation leans this way and that way. the kicker is played, jacob and matthias taking two consecutive losses with a certain mixture of class and self-defeat.

matthias: "i was never really clear, what do you do for the church you work for?"
jacob: "for, maybe not the right word. with, maybe."
matthias: "oh, huh. so what do you do with them."

everything really. anything practically. bibelkreis needs some explaining. we get together and talk about the bible. we try to meet as a group of younger students too. the pastor is 70? oh no his son is 17? that makes more sense. so yeah, we try to hang out. at the church? yeah, sometimes. sometimes out in the city.

but why does jacob not bring back the idea of goals. it's fine to share the pieces of the puzzle, but if you could just look at my box, maybe you could see the picture. maybe if you saw the picture you could see what i am putting together. maybe you could see why i'm doing it this way.

but all jacob shows, maybe all jacob knows right now, is the pieces, fragments of the truth seeming to be the whole itself.

the night wears on. they all move to the couch. the australians sent a package, sweet. pictures flash, minutes pass. good night.

scene.

act one:scene two

(i am not really sure what entails the changing of acts. ha.)

jacob is walking his normal route to class. it is early, somewhere around quarter till 9 in the morning. he walks over the bridge covering the river Saale. he looks at the water like he does so many time and it hits him, maybe not for the first time, but it strikes him new none the less.

the river is flowing, it is moving. it is always moving. the water is always cycling through the world. this water wasn't here last night, it probably won't be here again. still we think of it all as the same. it is just the water that is the river that is flowing from over there to over there. its beginning and its end are irrelevant, at least to this bridge they are. the river doesn't think about where it flows, it just flows. the drifting sticks and leaves, they don't think about where they're being taken; they just float on their lazy path until they meet that rock that happens to be sticking up just past the waters edge.

the beauty of the world captures jacob's eyes. he begins to wonder, at some points aloud, if it would be possible for him to make a quick trade with the leaf. maybe jacob could float the lazy river, and the leaf could learn a new language. maybe it could be easy. maybe it is easy.

jacob begins to wonder if he is the leaf all along. who's the rock? who's the bank? the seconds pass by. they weren't here last night, and won't be here again. they tick by, hand on a face, numbers on a watch. who is watching? who is seeing his life drifting the path of time and wishing they could trade just for a moment, if that would even mean something to them. maybe they could learn a new language, and jacob could go on to more important things.

scene.

act one: scene one

when you move to a new place and meet new people, one of the first inquiries to meet you is to your occupation. "hi, jacob. mark is it? mark. mark. (secretly i know i'll forget his name but whatever)what is it you do? are you studying here? yeah? what are you studying? oh cool, that sounds interesting. me? oh well. . ."

it's fun when you don't really fit into any category (especially when your applying for a visa to stay in another country. ha.). what do i say? that's where we find ourselves in this scene.

slightly crowded apartment in Jena, Germany. hallway to the door is full of people and beer crates. each room, aside from the one closed and the bathroom (of course) holds its own little party all joining together in some semi-fluid state.

enters a young, simply dressed man. he doesn't use the bell. he doesn't know the name or exact number of the apartment, but he's sure he's at the right place. he doesn't need the bell; he has impeccable timing. reaching for the door as someone is leaving, our young man walks up the first flight of stairs in no rush.

he tosses a candy wrapper into the stairwell's mostly empty trash can as he places his gloves in his coat and zips them into security. not completely sure what to do when he walks through the door, he looks around for some sign of familiarity.

"Jacob!" comes a cry from the first room on our left (i am 22 years old, and i almost always have to still put up my hands in front of my face to tell my left from my right. i make an L with my left and write with my right. worthless).

"Annette. Hey!" our young friend has already found his in. he is in. off comes the jacket and thus begins the getting to knowing. names are shared. jokes are made about how our young Jacob's German is not perfect, and maybe it would help if everyone spoke "s e h r lang-sam u n d deut-lich"

[translated]
jacob: "So what are you doing here, studying?"
thomas: "Yeah," leaning in a bit for secrecy, "I'm actually in my first semester."
jacob: "So what do you study?"
thomas: "Economy"
jacob: understanding science and not economy (wissenschaft vs wirtschaft) "Really. Huh. What in particular. That's kind of a broad subject."
thomas: "Huh? What do you mean?"
jacob: "Science, that's a bit broad. Are you studying, like, biology or something?"
thomas: "Oh no, not science, economy. You know, money and stuff."
jacob: "Oh, ok, that's pretty important now."
thomas: "Yeah with all this shit crisis going on. Ha!"

the topic flows from point to point. eventually thomas brings the question back upon our friend jacob.

thomas: "And you? Are you in some exchange thing?" already knowing jacob is American, not from around here.
jacob: "Uh, no, not exactly. I'm actually done with school for the most part. I'm doing an internship of sorts with a church here."

not falling into any clear box of understanding this subject is explained a bit more thoroughly: what kind of church? what do you do for the internship? how did you find out about this church? what else do you do with your time here? how did you come to this party?

time passes. topics change and change again. drinks are drank, chips are ate, people move in and out of the room.

[again translated, mostly]
jacob to matthias: "Hey."
matthias: "Hey."
both already know each other and have for about a month now.
jacob: "Hey, what are you studying. I've known you now for about a month, and I don't know what you're studying."
matthias: "Physics."
jacob: "Oh, cool, what exactly, anything specific?"
matthias: "Micro-something or other."
jacob: "Cool. I think I know someone who's in that area. Maybe they're doing their doctorate though. I dunno."
matthias: "Yeah, who?"
jacob: "Uh, uh, i dunno."
matthias: "Oh."

somehow the topic traces to what jacob is doing here. matthias already knows, but somehow, maybe brought up by someone else, they talk a bit more about what jacob is doing.

jacob: "I guess it boils down to the fact that I want to start communities. Sure right now I'm doing that specifically as a Christian church, but I think I want to just build communities, no strings attached. I like living here in Germany, but I think I'd prefer to help start or rebuild communities in other places."
matthias: "Oh? Like where?"
jacob: "Like in those type of places, those squatter town places, outside of big cities, where people live in cardboard shacks with dirt floors and stuff."
this takes some explaining but understanding is reached pretty quickly.
jacob: "Yeah, I dunno, it's just an idea right now."

the night wears on. the topic of occupation is discussed at least twice more. shady wine from the south of france is drunk. pretzels and bbq chips are eaten.

as jacob finally walks home somewhere round the hour of four in the morning, he thinks over again to himself what he is doing. it's a thought that has been trapped in between his ears for some time now. it seems with every step, every time he has to explain again what he is doing, he is beginning to open his eyes a bit more to what he wants to do. he takes a detour on the way home. he walks beside the river. he takes off his glove and reaches slowly into the flowing water. it is cold, very cold. maybe it's the hour, maybe it's a slight innibriation, but he feels the water just only enough to know it is there, moving.

the river is always moving.