This Is Not Here.

I have a professor that is one cool dude. His name is Professor Dansokho and I’m not even sure if I spelled that right, but it is definitely a cool name. Even though I’m not sure I can pronounce it.

You can tell that he a spiritual type of guy by the way he talks. He has this African accent, but it sounds like it has a twist of British in it like he learned how to speak English from Mary Poppins or something. And he uses these words like “Peace” and “Rejoice” and “Harmony” and “Justice” all the time. When he says words like this, it makes me want to give all my food and money and post-it notes to the poor—and then go live in a utopian society for the rest of my life.

He is from Senegal in Africa and it is okay if you do not know where that is, because I had to look up a map on the internet to find it. I didn’t believe it was a real place at first. I thought that this was just some trick that they played on newbie students, but I looked it up and sure enough, it is there.

            Anyway, he is a really nifty guy. He wears traditional African garments which actually look something like bathrobes. I think that they are fantastic. I believe that if everyone wore clothes like that every day, everyone would be more relaxed and not feel fat and not get wedgies and not really care about appearance at all. But who knows.

He told us today in class that we should “take off our masks” and be ourselves. And I believe that, but for some reason I couldn’t think about it properly until I got out of class because all I was thinking about in class was how different life would be today if we had all come to school in our pajamas.

But I do like the idea of “taking off our masks.” I believe that most of the time many of us live false lives. We pretend to be someone who we are not—just to prove to others that we are not bad or evil or insane or anything like that. So we have masks to hide ourselves.

There is really nothing to hide. We are all human. We are all imperfect. And that’s the way it is. So, my friends, let’s practicing taking off our masks occasionally and showing our true selves to others—who knows, someone might just like your bathrobe.

   ⁴ I sought the LORD, and he answered me;
       he delivered me from all my fears.

    ⁵ Those who look to him are radiant;
       their faces are never covered with shame.

    ⁶ This poor man called, and the LORD heard him;
       he saved him out of all his troubles.

    ⁷ The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him,
       and he delivers them.

    ⁸ Taste and see that the LORD is good;
       blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.

Psalm 34:4-8 NIV

There are many paths upon which we could travel in a lifetime.

The path I have taken today is one to Salisbury, North Carolina. So for the time being, I am here. It is different and strange and exhilarating and scary and many other adjectives all at once.

My path lead to the seminary bookstore:

I bought sixteen textbooks today. Sixteen! What in the world!? This seminary place is scary! The bookstore lady, of whose name I have forgotten, nodded to me encouragingly with this sympathetic and doubting, yet somehow maniacal gaze. I, of course, felt very confident. And by confident, I mean that I prayed to God and to Jesus and to the Holy Spirit and to anyone else who would listen--that I would not be reading excerpts from all of them every night.

I met one of my professors as I was leaving the bookstore. It was quite the first impression I think. I looked like Quasimodo, hunched over with my four hundred pound backpack on my hump and five other tomes in my arms.

"Your life may be hard this semester."

"Oh really?" (I shifted the weight from my right arm to the left arm)

"Yes, I'm thinking of adding two more books to the syllabus for my class."

"Oh really?" (My jaw hit the cement)

"Yes"

"..." (This is when I started praying to the Holy Trinity)

"Well, see you tomorrow in class then."

"See you." (A slight ripping sound came from the underside of my backpack)
 

I'm committing geographic suicide.
I'm slicing myself into three even parts with the dangerous dagger of driving.
My car told me--no joke--the other day:
"Yum. Yum. Give me gas. Yum. Yum."
It scared me.
I mean, my car doesn't talk to me very often; but when it does, it is terrifying.
Bah, I'm getting off topic.
Anyway, on the subject again...
Boone.
Wilkesboro.
Salisbury.
Me.
Lots of transportation.
One tired little man.
God have mercy on my soul.

Found something today that is very creative.
Been busy, I'll post for real tomorrow.

Imagination

Have a good weekend!