Hot-air balloons

I want to be a hot-air balloonist when I grow up.

When I was a kid, before I made the Purple World, my room had hot-air balloons on the walls. Once, I was running around barefoot down the street with my sister, we saw a hot-air balloon flying around, and I figured out where it was, which was only a block away from me! We raced down with our dirty feet in our t-shirts and shorts, and asked for a ride. And they gave us one. Oh yah.

I did some research. They have hot-air ballooning schools. You can hire someone to train you, which will get you a license faster, but it's more expensive. You have to clock in hours to be a balloonist. Or, you could work on a crew with a balloonist, and be trained that way, which is much cheaper, but will take longer, because of all the hours you gotta clock. Did I mention the crew? It takes a crew of 3-4 people to get a balloon in the air, excluding the pilot. You need people to help you inflate the thing, as well as to follow you as you fly, and negotiate and find landing spots for you when it's time to go down. Landing spots are usually farmer's fields. You have to be careful of the brave, stupid cows that don't get scared away by the large UFO landing in their field, and be careful of hitting wires, trees, etc. on the way down. There are three different ways of powering a balloon. There's one type of gas, which can cost up to $3000 per flight. I forget what it's called. There's also getting it to float by heating the air in the balloon, which costs however much propane it takes for the flame. There's a combination of the two methods. I don't know which method is best. The whole kit for a balloon, wicker basket, and fiery thingy is about $11,000 new. And it's better to buy new than used. The balloon itself is estimated at a certain number of hours before replacement, while the basket and fiery things have a lifetime guarantee.

I will do this when I am married, and have kids who are old enough to be in my crew. Because any kid would be the coolest kid in school if they know how to fly hot-air balloons. But I do want to do this. Because people dream about doing something they truly enjoy, and then for fear of lack of security, they settle for less, and I don't want to settle. I want to fly hot-air balloons.

Random story:
It turns out that Marjorie Hopkins, the dean of student life at EBC... is in my Latin Class at University of Waterloo. She's in my tutorial to be more exact, not the actual class.

Because of this, I want to get a higher mark than her. So, to her lack of awareness, we're in the middle of a competition. She has a head start. She read her textbooks and made flash cards. I bought my textbooks tonight (because my friend Charlie snuck me into the UW bookstore so I didn't have to wait in line for hours) so I haven't started yet. I also JUST finished my flash cards. But I did draw up colorful diagrams of present stems and personal endings, and plural and singular declensions. There will be more to come. They will decorate my room. And I will kick butt.

The best version of myself

One time, when I was in Ghana, we all went to a church service one Sunday underneath a grass canopy. I remember it so clearly, and when I write it, it's as though I'm back there again. Earlier that week, we had gone to town (Was it in Adidome?) where I bought a journal, and started writing in it. My very first entry was simply that I would be more aware of God's presence in my life. After writing that, we left for the service.

Never pray dangerous prayers. Or always pray dangerous prayers? I opt for the always, but it still manages to move me to fear and awe sometimes.

I have a strange memory, and I can easily be transported back by feeling something, or smelling something. This morning I woke up, convinced I was in my old room from last year at EBC, because the sheets felt the same, I was in the top bunk again, and my alarm clock sounded the same. I even walked out the door, completely confused about the location of the bathroom, and the exit, for that matter. When I think of Africa, I still feel sweat running down my legs, a permanent stickiness about everything I do, and a salty layer that felt natural, comfortable, and dirty, dusty feet. Sitting on the warm ceramic outside the guest house, reading a book, writing, thinking, or talking with someone. I honestly felt like the best version of myself.

That service, I slowed down myself, and made myself aware of my breathing. Many eastern religions talk about this practice, especially Hinduism with Yogic practices, and mantras, which makes me more reassured of it's value. Strangely enough, to me, Hinduism proves the existence and awesomeness of God. (but I'll save that for another post, or just ask me if you're curious.)And each breath was holy and sacred and intricate. I felt the way it filled me out, and it left me, and the taste of it, the smell of it. And it was all holy and sacred and intricate.

And I slowed down, and felt the way my hands felt when they were rubbing together, fingerprint upon fingerprint. The smoothness of my nails, the muscles and bones and the way they moved and worked together. My blood rushing, the wind moving the hairs on my arms, and the way my clothes felt against my body. And it was all so profoundly holy and sacred and intricate.

Not a single thing changed in the world. I remember later Matt Lockhart saying he was irritated at the way the grass was making his head itchy. People continued to sing, but I was suddenly aware of everything and how it was infused with... holiness. How better can I describe it? The ground I was standing on was special. My heart beating, and each pulse it made was a gift. And there was this rushing, this constant, in everything, and all over.

The most amazing thing, to me, was that all of the menial things that distract me, all the little sins and stupid things I worry about and think about, and the little lies and evil thoughts, all felt just meaningless, like fluff that just floated off of me, and I was completely FREE from that... muck.

Hinduism, Buddhism, and Catholicism talk about this. In Hinduism, the belief is that we are constantly spinning on a wheel of Samsara, in life, and muck and mire. We are incarnated into this wheel, and continue to spin on it, and through Dharma, Karma, good thoughts, good deeds, we are free and attain Moksha, a state of purity, or "heaven" essentially, where we are no longer reincarnated. Buddhism calls it "Enlightenment", or other school of Buddhism, such as Mahayana or Pureland Buddhism talk of a similar striving to a state of holiness. In Catholicism, the best way I have heard it described is by my favorite, Saint Teresa of Avila, who spoke of an "Interior Castle" - where the soul is akin to a castle, where our whole spiritual life is a journey towards the center, toward union with God. She spoke of different stages or mansions, and different spiritual challenges one faces on each journey as they grow closer to themselves, and closer to God. I like how the journey towards God is inner in her analogy, towards ourselves.

Maybe it was Moksha, or Enlightenment, or the Divine Union. If it is, then it is something that must constantly be worked at and striven towards. I asked if I could stay here forever, and it's certainly possible. Not a mountaintop experience as much as a way of being. There is so much I could say about that hour. I could talk forever about how I suddenly grew insanely in love with all of the people I was surrounded by, the strangers and the ones I already loved, with this deep feeling like I saw them all as holy, wonderful beings beyond my limited comprehension to even begin to figure out, and it moved me to awe. And I could talk about how the colors seemed to leak out of the grasses and the trees, and seemed to pulse and be saturated with something deep and wonderful. Or I could talk about how the very sound of sound itself felt holy, and I knew not how I was blessed to hear everything.

The service did end though, and people started talking about what's for lunch, and what we're doing today. I tried to keep breathing, and I tried to remember my heartbeat, but bit by bit, I floated back down, and the world quieted, and I was back to before, drifting once again in muck and mire. But for one thing: awareness. That it's attainable, there, and always there, whether I will see it again or not.

Every day since then, I have tried to go back, or be there once again. And I haven't been able to. This world is just too noisy and clogged with everything it feels like, to float away...

I'll kick your butt

I like to talk big. It's one of my favorite things in the world to do. Whenever I find myself on the threshold of a competition with a slightly indifferent opponent, disregarding what the nature of the competition is, I will still talk myself so big that it will seem as though I'm a virtuoso in the field.

It will go something like this:

If it's a chess game, I'll talk up, and say how I've never lost a game, and how I am the best chess player I know. I'll tell you about my friend Tim Chester, and how, every week (or sometimes twice a week) we would have a chess game, and how I kicked his butt every single time except for twice (in reality, he kicked beat me every time... except for twice.) I will tell you about the Italian Defense, which is my secret infallible defense tactic, and how it will destroy you, and mangle your pieces INTO THE GROUND. I'll use exciting adjectives such as "destroy" "obliterate" "annihilate" "kill" and my personal favorite, (this never goes out of style... either that, or I'm just lame) "KICK YOUR BUTT!"

This usually gets my opponent riled up. It's funny to watch them get all hot-headed and excited, and I love it when they talk back to me. "Oh yeah? Well you just wait and see. You got another thing comin'!" and they get really intense in the game, and play to the best of their abilities, because to their knowledge, the opponent facing them is formidable, frightening, and the best darn player they'll find themselves up against.

But in reality, I'm usually not good at any competition I find myself in the middle of. At best, I'm mediocre, and I like to challenge the pros. Usually, I lose. But that doesn't stop me. I'll still pretend like I won (to the annoyance of my competitors) I still talk big. Because really, I'll still kick your butt.