My greatest war is the war against my own heart. I don’t lie because I want to; I lie because I’m not accustomed to spaces I can trust. I don’t cheat because I dislike my current state; I cheat because I dislike myself. I don’t steal because I need something; I steal because I don’t know what I have. I don’t kill because I hate them; I kill because I hate me. I like to be polished on the outside and lend no hint of needing help. On the rare occasions of one too many Merlots, or a trustworthy late-night chat, you might barrow my flimsy walls. And once there, you inevitably find needs, pleas, and most notably, me. Rarely will I let one in by choice though. “It feels too weak, or isn’t worthy of your time. When you ask if you can pray for me, I’ll go on to convince you to focus elsewhere…God has to handle everyone else’s problems, right? (Plus inner dialogue of, “What would they think if they actually knew what I was thinking)?” In short, in my weakest states, I hide. I hide my thirsts, inabilities and insecurities, thereby protecting myself from ever being truly seen, heard, or known.

continue reading

Veero was in for a long walk – more than fifteen miles. Veero quietly slipped away from a farm where women were guarded by armed thugs and men were kept in leg irons. She was terrified but determined. When she reached the local police station, it took a three-day sit in to force officers to help. Veero’s risky walk to freedom paid off. She has shown 700 others how to follow her footsteps and stand up for their rights.

 

The Working Women’s Association, Shramajivee Mahila Samity (SMS) goes undercover in India to expose traffickers posing as legitimate labor recruiters. SMS traces missing women, and helps slavery survivors return home and rebuild their lives. SMS educates villagers to slave-proof their communities. Local committees learn to act fast when someone is taken. Women get help with opening small businesses so they can earn a living without moving from their home. Thanks to SMS, hundreds of slaves have been reunited with their families.

 

continue reading

The last award ceremony I attended was for honor roll in grade school. I don’t remember much about those ceremonies except for sitting on the floor, Indian Style of course, in the cafeteria with a couple hundred other grade school kids. I hated sitting on that floor and my feet and legs always fell asleep.

 

A few weeks ago, I mentioned a bit about the upcoming Freedom Award Ceremony taking place in Los Angeles. I’ll be attending the ceremony along with my mom tomorrow night. Anti-human trafficking organization, Free the Slaves, is the host of the ceremony and according to an email I received from them this morning,

 “It's not your mamma's kind of awards show.”

continue reading

Most surfers and California beach-wear aficionados know what Rainbow Sandals are. They are a light-wear, leather sandal that forms to your foot, virtually indestructible; rather like wearing twin slices of heaven on your feet.

I like to think of them as the sandals Jesus wore.

Whenever we are back in San Clemente, Ca., we stop by the factory to pick up a pair or six. This last visit, the chief architect running the construction of the sandal manufacturing empire gave us a tour, and it was absolutely fascinating. Fashioning the leather straps, cutting the layers of rubber sole, applying the patented glue…you could tell this guy LOVED making Rainbows. Each one was special to him. And like Jelly Bellies, whose factory we also visited, even the flops were items of love and care. (Try purchasing bags of belly-flops the next time you’re passing through Fairfield, Ca.)

continue reading

I’ve wanted to be a director since I was 5. To confirm this statement please go up to my parent’s attic and take out my first grade homework assignment entitled “What I Want to Be When I Grow Up” with a very Steven Speilbergish looking picture of me brilliantly sketched in Crayola washable marker.

Since then I’ve directed projects big and small (mostly small) and have even managed to grow a beard (something the great directors always have).  But the biggest project I’ve endeavored to undertake is my own life. 

I’ve grown to realize, however, that my biggest undertaking is also my biggest failure.

The actors won’t do what I tell them to.

I’m either too early or too late to shoot whatever scene is supposedly going on without me.

continue reading

He visited today. In a refreshingly different, but still awful way than before.
Different in that I recognized him, and awful in that recognizable, or not, he still exudes awfulness—like a whispering ghost, criticizing my every move.

I saw his face—I felt his disdain.
He sunk into my cracks of anger and asked me to hate.
He gaped at my dancing strands of hope and told them to stop.

He mocked my sadness.
Marked my weakness.
Masked my gladness.
And raped my good.

He marveled at my tears saying, Don’t stop. There are always more reasons to flow. He rocked my exhuastion saying, I’m glad to find you. I’m glad to remind you of your name. He grabbed me by the hand, wanting to lead me back into his dark,

My friend told me she was an addict today.

I was so proud of her, not because she confessed some profane form of activity, but because she cooperated with some unpleasant part of being human.

None of us escapes addiction. And though some are more identifiable, like porn, food, or shopping, others are heinously scripted into our DNA, like self-promotion, ease and vanity.

My friend and I realized that to sever her addiction altogether would mean severing parts of her that were good, like desire. And yet, fully submitting to its patters didn't feel right either, so we decided there must be an alternative route. Seems like we can either turn away from our addictions, or we can face the truth of them, and hope to God love exists in that vicinity.

continue reading

This morning, I followed my normal pre-work routine.  My alarm rang at 6:45.  I climbed out of bed to turn it off.  I climbed back into bed until the snooze alarm sounded.  I turned that off too, and climbed into bed again.  Finally, after thirty minutes of this game, I was ready to truly get up and face the world.  (Why I can’t just set my alarm thirty minutes later and sleep I’ll never know.)

Next, I journeyed to the bathroom for the morning ritual:  shower, shave, brush my hair (even though I buzz my hair), brush my teeth.  I got dressed, headed to the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of cereal.  I then embarked on a ritual I’ve had in some form or fashion since I was eight - I saw down and read the paper.  

When I was eight, I would literally spend 20 minutes combing through the local paper - skimming articles, checking out the day’s news, reading the funnies.  Nowadays, I migrate back to my computer and skim through the news stories on the website of the local paper.  If I have time, I’ll pop over to a few favorite sites or blogs that are on my newsfeed.  

continue reading

I was reminded last night of of the great sacrifice people made for our country.  Over a great BBQ, drinks, and games, my friends and I counted down until we watched the fireworks extravaganza at the historic Rose Bowl in Pasadena, CA.  It was a great time.  I was also remembering when the fireworks were over last year, we bolted hoping to "miss the traffic."  After celebrating our country's freedom, we charged as well, hoping to conquer time in getting home.  What was a 10 minute drive normally took 2 hours.   People were cutting each other off, cussing, almost getting in wrecks, honking.  It was ridiculous... united we stand.  An interesting moment needless to say.  Last week, my friend told me about these ads that she had seen lately about cyberbullying.  A freedom we feel when we can type whatever we want to and not be held accountable.  I thought it was an important message after having seen the cars line up and repeat the insanity of last year and our friends jokingly asking us if we would repeat our blunder.  We did not, and had a great time celebrating into the night with our group.  So in honor of our freedoms, I hope we realize freedom isn't being without accountability and not standing behind who we are, for the better or worse, and also stand with others... one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

continue reading

Woe to those who prefer the spirit of control over the spirit of liberty: will we expend the energy to pursue interior holiness?

(I'd rather not write this one.)

For years I've been thinking about a disturbing and distinct division among followers of Jesus. On the one hand I see many rediscovering the spirituality of the arts, befriending the unclear, finding beauty in the ambiguous, and celebrating difference. 

And on the other hand I see people craving more details, more definition, "how to" downloads...almost as though they were screaming, "God, just tell me what to do and I'll do it! Give me the 10 points and I'll follow to the letter. I don't have to understand, I just need to know what you want from me."

continue reading