It’s a rather pithy thing to say these days — “living intentionally” — devoid of overt meaning and explanation. But I try to remind myself of this anyways, truly trying to grasp what it would mean to live intentionally in this very moment.
’ve decided to ignore it and make peace with the familiar. It comes down to personal preference, I guess, but do we really need an adventure every other day of our lives? That sounds exhausting.
I was Reverse Culturally Baffled last week walking through my sister’s trim, manicured neighborhood. The playground sign near her house advised Indiana suburbia: NO guns or hunting allowed.
In some ways, that’s exactly what art is—a way of showing the extent to which one understands about people, the world. When we think, for example, of the world’s greatest writers, we list those who have done this well—those who have understood something about people, and put that something into words.
In Chicago there are people called “apartment finders.” There’s probably a technical term, like a “broker” or a “realtor”, but who cares. You tell them what you’re looking for and they hunt it down.
I like Talia because she has a bumper sticker that proclaims, “The Day of Non-Judgement is Near” and she buys all her clothes from a thrift store. I once told her that I still found someone who once broke my heart irresistibly attractive. She told me, “There is nothing wrong with seeing beauty where it is.”
Everyone knows the basic concept: stand on the shoulder with a thumb in the air until a driver pulls over. But that alone will get you glares, pitying glances, and head shakes. Through online research and personal experience, I have discovered a few tricks to effective thumbing, so you, too, can hit the road.
Something about studying words at Calvin was special. The camaraderie and community among faculty, staff, and students in the department was tangible. I was taught, but I was also nurtured.
Fellow Calvinites, if you, like my unfortunate college roommate and Michigan native have never been farther west than—what did he say?—Iowa!, then you have never lived.
