More from Miller and a Little from Lee

As I'm sitting here writing this post, listening to Amos Lee, it occurs to me that the lyrics to his song "Supply and Demand" are reminiscent of Miller's musings (from my last post).

The song goes something like this:

"Somethin' gotta give with the way I'm livin'
Seems I'm gettin' down everyday
The more I strive, the less I'm alive
And seems i'm gettin' further away...

"Baby i need a plan
Oh, to understand
That life ain't only supply and demand."


Here's more from Donald Miller's Through Painted Deserts. His words are so poignant, I just couldn't resist posting more excerpts.

"It occurs to me, as it sometimes does, that this day is over and will never be lived again, that we are only the sum of days, and when those are spent, we will not come back to this place, to this time to these people and these colors, and I wonder whether to be sad about this or to be happy to trust that these hours are meant for some kind of enjoyment, as a kind of blessing. And it feels, tonight, as if there is much to think about, there is much we have been given and much we have left behind." --Donald Miller

"And all of it reminds me that I am alive, that I am having some kind of experience, some kind of thing is happening to me the way it is happening to the crops, how for months they come into themselves under the soil, made from elements in the soil…" --Donald Miller

Excerpts from Miller

I'm an avid reader. I always have been. There's just something about good literature; I get lost in it.

That said, my most recent reading endeavor is entitled Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller, the same author who wrote Blue Like Jazz. I am only 35 pages in and I am captivated. If you’ve never picked it up, you should. You absolutely should.

In short, the story is about a three-month road trip Miller takes with his friend, Paul, in an effort to experience life beyond routine, beyond 9-to-5's, beyond daily monotony and beyond constraints of time. It's a journey of awakening--awakening of the body, mind, soul and spirit. Miller is very real, very open, very honest, and he asks questions that none of us seem to want to slow down enough to ask ourselves.

Below are some of my favorite excerpts thus far...enjoy!

"We are shaped by our experiences. Our perception of joy, fear, pain, and beauty are sharpened or dulled by the way we rub against time. My senses have become dull and this trip is an effort to sharpen them." --Donald Miller

"Trips like ours are greener grass left unknown for fear of believing trite sayings, sayings that are sometimes true. But theirs is an existence under the weight and awareness of time, a place we are slowly escaping, a world growing fainter by the hour and the mile." --Donald Miller

"And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?
It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.
I want to repeat one word for you:
Leave.
Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed." --Donald Miller

Marvels of Public Transit

As a user of public transit, I have to marvel at our system. Not so much at its efficiency or efficacy, but at the way it draws the surrounding community together.

Have you ever boarded the light rail, or a public bus, and conscientiously observed the other people coming and going? Not just briefly glanced up at them as they got on board…but really seen them, and what they carry on board with them—both tangible and intangible. For a moment, you are given a window into their world.

It is amazing to me how countless worlds collide in the same confined space every day. And at regularly scheduled intervals, no less.

• The light rail doors part in the middle and slide open. A Hispanic mother quietly shuffles her two boys from the platform into the railed car. They have their school bags, and she must have just picked them up after a day of work. The oldest carries a violin protected by a navy blue case with black detailing, and the youngest, who also wears glasses, tightly carries a miniature stuffed lion in one hand. The youngest also carries a backpack that appears far to large for such a small boy. The mother spots two open seats to their left, and mom sits down first, taking their things into her lap one by one. An older man gets up and offers the two seats toward the back of the rail car for her children. She takes the violin from her eldest son and tells him to take his brother to the seats and she shifts her position so she can see that they make it safely to their chairs, just a few feet away. The older brother, taking on the role of the protector, leads his brother up to the seats and they both sit down. The eldest puts his arm over his brother’s seat, understanding that he has been entrusted with great responsibility. As the rail car continues along its tracks, the mother stays seated sideways in her chair so she can keep her boys, her family, her loved ones, in sight. When two seats open behind her, she motions her boys down to sit closer to her. Her obedient boys are sensitive to her request, get up from their seats and brace themselves on any available railing as they walk through the moving car to her and sit down, youngest first, followed by the eldest. They are a family.

• The light rail doors part in the middle and slide open. A black man in his late 30’s walks his bike into the rail car. He is smiling. And he doesn’t stop. His smile is so pure—and there is deep, deep joy in it. It’s as though his smile starts within the depths of his soul, thus it does not falter for a moment. It’s his 42nd straight day of work, he announces to whomever may be listening on board. He is glad to be working. His cell phone rings and he answers it. He asks his friend if he is on his way to church. The man tells his friend that he’s headed to work, it’s his 42nd straight day of working. They chat for another minute or two, and then he hangs up. Putting away his phone, the man starts a conversation with another passenger, talking about what it means to be a fool. He quotes a verse from the Bible. Proverbs. Seated in a row of four chairs, he leans his bike up against himself and shuffles through his things looking for his Bible. He finds it, opens it to Proverbs and reads the passage to which he was referring. Smiling all the while. His stop is next, he says, he’s heading to work—it’s his 42nd day straight. You can hear the quick clicking of his bicycle gears as he walks his bike off the rail car. Smiling, no doubt.

There is sense of unity and togetherness manifested in public transportation that is unparalleled by any other public space. For that amount of time, however quick or lengthy it may be, you are confined by the same physical boundaries as the other passengers. And if anything happens while riding, you all experience it together, as a group.

And yet, people come and go without interacting with each other. There is no need to, really. They swipe their card and board the vehicle, each carrying their worlds on board with them. But for that moment, while they are moving, they share the same space, regardless of who they are, where they came from or where they are going. And when that moment slows to a stop, passengers exit, and that temporary sense of unity dissipates as riders leave the enclosed vehicle and step out, on their own, into the urban air.