Day 370

part ll

sleeping on the front porch at the boys' house in portland has long gotten me used to the five-thirty sunrise. i sleep a while longer among the leaves and branches before packing up from my spot on the beach at eight forty-five after only a few hours of sleep.

after making sure the coast is clear (pun), i pop out of the bush with my pack, grab some coffee at a shop, and head for the rocks. i read ecclesiastes as people walk in pairs, play with their dogs, and ride horses? along the morning water.

an hour later greg at the mariner's market rings up my priced-to-sell bbq chicken wraps and answers my questions about going north to sea side beach. he's my age, i'd guess, and is friendly as he tells me about the bus that runs on the hour from cannon beach. seventy-five cents is a worthy fare for this service. as i wait at the information center with my cheap breakfast i watch as a shiny, blue truck of four old men pull up. one man is driving and the other talks to the driver. two more men sit back on the flat tailgate and hop off at various stops around the small town to install american flags in beams and holders. this seems to be their only job and apparently it takes all four of them for this duty. elsewhere four generations of women walk the sidewalk. shoulder-to-shoulder and in white sweaters they march their blockade and talk about trinkets and shops and about not forgetting the importance of all buying 'cannon beach' hoodies together.

the bus comes fast around the corner and thankfully i get up in time to meet its short stop. i'm the only one boarding apparently (although i'll later see two other people at this same bus stop at sea side- they must have missed this swift opportunity). a skinny older man with a greasy pony tail and thin grey mustache drives the bus and tells me his pacific northwest hitch hiking tales as he drinks from a can of orange soda. he started work this morning at five am and also tells me that he thinks that i'm brave for traveling these parts alone. i ask him what that means. 'cannon and up north in astoria are pretty mellow and safe, but you gotta watch yourself in sea side. the carnies can make it dangerous. watch out for them.' i'm not really interested in asking for the exact physical definition of a 'carnie' because after this statement he begins another anti-climactic hitch hiking story and adds that 'these parts are pretty safe' and then begins to give me a description and the ins-and-outs of sea side. soon he drops me off next to a mcdonalds on the main street.

i don't like sea side. it's a gritty carnival strip of boutiques and shops and a tall line of mid-standard hotels like the shilo inn that block the ocean view from anywhere else besides the sand. there are bumper cars and candy stores and hundreds and hundreds of people streaming down broadway towards the beach. the sun is hot and i only have jeans and a tshirt. i walk away from the crowds along the massive shoreline and stop a ways out at a log to read the book of james. i also walk along the dunes to look for a decent sleeping/hiding place for tonight. there are none here and after four hours of reading and wandering and wading in the water i'm ready to head back to cannon. i catch another seventy-five cent bus.

here's where it starts to get cool.

i'm back at the sleepy monk coffee roasters to read and evaluate the next step. i chat with the baristas who remember me from yesterday and some of the customers join our conversation about places and traveling and youth as they move in and out of the line. the shop clears out and one of the baristas comes to my table and asks if anyone at the shop has told me about the 'special' hiding spot on cannon beach. she says it's a well kept secret and shares with me this place that sounds much better than my bush camp.

i'm not sure what to do at this point. i could go back to portland or i could stay another night. i'm easy. i start to write 'portland?' on a piece of cardboard in preparation for opting to at least attempt a hitch tonight when a light haired man and his son re-enter the coffee shop.

here's where it starts to get cooler.

'hey, we'll give you a ride. we live in vancouver (the northern suburb of portland, not canada).' craig and his son spencer have been surfing today and we hop into their grey nissan xtera. we swing by the pizza shop which, as they tell me, is their weekend surf trip tradition. they buy me a slice and we chill outside and get to know each other. he's a principal at a school for the blind. i tell him a little about my travels and education. all throughout there's a good vibe. a subtle denominator.

as we ride he answers my questions about blind students and tells me facts about student life and the hardships of post-education. most of it is sad stuff- like the seventy percent unemployment rate for the blind. i can tell he really cares about his students and, for that matter, people in general. i mention working at a camp in one of my answers and he mentions youth group. when i mention imago dei church in portland the two of them jump in their front seats. they go there.

so i find myself in a car with two christian people who'd offered me, a stranger, an eighty-plus mile ride from cannon beach to portland. the whole way back is awesome conversation about churches and education and the blind and his family and my travels. flawless. when we get into portland i tell them that i can catch the buses the rest of the way to the south east neighborhood. they maintain that they'll take me all the way- to the doorstep of the house even. i jump out and thank them again and tell them that they've been a clutch part of all this. i finish shaking their hands and craig says to thank his son who'd, when they were outside the coffee shop, had told his dad that he thought they should take me with them. craig had agreed and they came back in to get me right before i'd walked out the other door with my cardboard sign.


this was, hands down, the perfect ending to this little retreat. it makes me smile again to remember and type out this fast little summary. i'm not really going to put too much down about ecclesiastes and james but if you want you can try reading them together sometime. you might not have an ocean to go with it but i find that they're a nice mix nonetheless.


thank you, again, God for all this.

Day 357

*the following is the raw outlinings of many conversations and observations and occurrences. i apologize for this scatteredness, for any cheesiness, and also for the made-up words like outlinings and scatteredness. but i'm interested to see how they continue to converge and connect over the next couple weeks so i'll probably keep this manner of breaking pattern for a little bit because i might need them again soon. here we go.*



i couldn't put a finger on what i had sensed, but from the moment of walking into the school auditorium that holds imago dei church services i felt there was an uneasiness. maybe it wasn't that clear of a disturbance, but i wondered if something was wrong. we hadn't been in time for the the first part of music and pastor rick mckinley was beginning a message that eventually came to a screeching halt. he'd been talking about the community which, for what i've noticed in during the past week in portland, holds high priority for christians in this area. people all seem to support involvement in community and togetherness. some also express their spiritual feelings through the public display of signs. but the pastor was saying how some of these things were not working.

pastor shawn barden and i had talked about the likes of super pastors and popular churchs back in fernie during an afternoon at the tea house. imago dei received a ton of awareness because of don miller's book blue like jazz and i wasn't surprised- and was also very interested- when my friend sarah told me that part of her decision to move here three years ago was because of what she'd read in that book. she told me that there were several people in that new members class who would mention how they'd also been attracted to the city and church because of what they had read.

so this morning rick mckinley told the congregation that all activities outside of sunday services would be cancelled for the next month. and he seemed sad because he was concerned people weren't concerned as much with the inner community and living of the church. the image of God. he joked about people already starting to get mad in their seats about one less barbeque event and followed by asking the full room for a show of hands of whom he could expect to show up for pray on wednesday regarding the growth of the church and the earnestness of its members. maybe ten percent of people raised their hands. and he seemed sadder- like this was going from bad to worse. i haven't been here around long enough to know what's up really but it seems from some other conversations that some of the regular attenders haven't been experiencing the same flow as before. i'm not sure how to exactly translate that further.

but there was something towards the end of the sermon that i wrote down in the little back pocket idea notebook. he described christianity as coming to the cross alone and leaving in community with both God and others.

and as the afternoon's thoughts and conversations unraveled among friends and another trip to the piano warehouse and a little breakfast restaurant, the entire context of the past three hundred fifty-seven days displayed this same kind of community through correlations and connections of most every person who's had an impact on my life and the growth and progress during all this. Jesus is still the bottom line and, in this way, my experience with christian community has been linked step by step by hundreds of other christians. that's been life changing in of itself.

[man, i'm starting to lose ability to pull in the thoughts and occurrences and connections that have been become more and more frequent this past week. so many pieces are connecting and i'm starting to feel an end to what has been almost a year.]

and over an afternoon breakfast i heard another story from another person who is getting ready to graduate college and seek swift transition into a job to start paying off loans. maybe they weren't ready to accept these steps as the fulfillment of life thus far. i'm thankful for all the people and their honesty and their relating of their experiences. even while some are growing successful many of my generation seem to be seeking something different. unfortunately there are two sides.

parker's dad, ken, had told me last week how he didn't understand this generation very well. rightfully so he observed that they seemed to be looking for more and more of a handout while taking more and more steps away from hard work. i've been finding so many people my age both in portland and in every previous place who are content to live to get by and who seemingly embrace these christian aspects of community and love. it seems to work and also seems to have flaws. still- and maybe it's the west coast liberal influence or something- i've never met so many christians my age who go to church and profess to follow Jesus while also having a heavy involvement in alcoholism and incessant cursing.

they guys at the house here had a meeting about it today. there are a couple of us staying here temporarily and we were asked to come and participate in the talk. after the main seven of them talked about their monthly bill allotments they began to share ideas and rules for avoiding falling into anything detrimental to their community and spirituality due to alcohol. apparently this buzz has been going and growing for a while and it was actually kind of cool to be on the fringes of these guys who are trying to straighten some things out amongst themselves.

but towards the end i spoke up.

i've been here a week as of today and the meld with the guys and greater college age community here has been flawless, really. i'm thankful to have been accepted and to have grown so comfortable with them in seven days. but i had to tell them that when i first came to town i'd thought that my friend parker was the only christian in the house. it hurt me to hear them swear and curse constantly and then was confused to find that they're all active christians who seek to show Jesus' love to others. a few of the guys are making changes because of what was said at the end and they told me so.

man, i really am starting to feel pretentious and incapable in explaining the greater goings on lately. they've been so good. and there are so many stories to be told and connected that i'm kind of losing hope in sharing them on this silly blog. but i'm trying pretty hard right now so please forgive the briefness and cuts in explanations. the only reason i try to share this is to share and remember the spiritual excitement and personal change that's been happening through what i've been able to see happen and connect during only a week in portland.

so if i couldn't immediately put a finger on the sense in church this morning i can now tell that i was uneasy about the lethargic approach i've been seeing in christian communities. and i've been told by others here that it's hard to know whether they should cut ties or if they should stay in hopes of inducing positive changes.

this is the last major thing. it has to do with the hand outs ken had mentioned. ashamedly i admit to having these kind of 'hand out' thoughts. here is the proof. but today it struck me anew how having what little i've had thus far has exponentially increased the amount and depth of relationships and pursuit of life and spirituality. even not having a cell phone has been one of the greatest affecting factor to the relationships that have come along because even though i can't get a hold of many of these people at any time the depth and quality have been increased.

parker and i were talking about random things late last night and there was a point where i counter-observed something he said. 'if you gave one dollar to every homeless person you meet for the rest of your life, they'll still be poor and you probably won't have anything at all.' and by this we would have been also talking about how living is the most important aspect for doing lasting good.

so, less is more. i have no student loans. i have no phone here. no car. some money. but i've never seen and experienced and been so moved by the affects of constant exposure and involvement with the body of Jesus Christ.

and tonight at this house on south east clinton street there were over twenty college age students who gathered to hang out as we had a barbeque. the smell of smoke lingers on the couch of this outdoor front porch where i've chosen to sleep for a third night in a row.

Day 141

i almost feel like there should be a second part to last night's post. here's a little extra.

we wandered around the clean streets and surprisingly tame night life of portland after i posted up last night. i went to a bookstore that don miller mentions frequenting in his books. i bought an awesome music book, a compilation of artist and film maker interviews about music and what it takes to get into the business, at powell's, the bookstore, for only a few, tax-free dollars. oregon has no tax, yet the prices are the same for everything as they are anywhere else. its wonderful. one dollar double-cheeseburgers mean one dollar.

from there went to one of the coffee shops, common ground, where miller talks about going to write books. while there, we found an entertainment publication and followed its leadings to a tea shop where there was a jazz band playing so we hit that up as well.



this morning we went to imago dei church, which also happened to conveniently be located only a couple miles from our couchsurf location. we went to two of their three services to get a perspective of the overall vibe of their flow. this church was the big reasons we'd come down to portland for the weekend. the church meets in a cool, old high school auditorium where vintage wooden stadium-style seats are anchored in straight, parallel lines to fill the floor of the tall maroonish room. the music and sermon were both relevant and interesting and, at the end of the first service, they ended with a banjo, violin, guitar, etc contemporary version of 'i'll fly away.' people all around were animated and, after the service, i went up to the music leader and introduced myself and we talked for a bit before i showed him my harmonica, the one that's always in my left pocket. i asked if i could play with them at the close of the next service we would be coming back to re-attend. the music was that good and i liked it, so i felt it didn't hurt to ask. they had some policy, he confessed, but he seemed willing enough to regret that i wouldn't be around next week so that we could practice something first. oh well. it really doesn't hurt to ask. i'm learning that in many, many ways this summer. little risks.

it's dark now and we're back at parker's house in washington after two nights exploring portland. we're both pretty tired, but i'm happy with the places, people, and things encountered this weekend.