Megan Elizabeth.

Asalaam Alaikum.

megangularte — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 05:30:49 +0000

Oh raptured soul

how willingly

to light the candle

and go.

Citizenship go.

Recieved, taken.

Told to bow

solids unfold

for what?

low, low, thinking,

Scrolls.

Sealed for Him.

Unfold. Unfurled.

Bow and weep

and sew.

Paste in eyes

to see

then to be told no?

no. take hold. go.

Coffee and This.

megangularte — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 00:31:17 +0000

Michael’s perspective:

She had left me with coffee and this: “The areas of greatest uncertainty are assigned to a God.” A whole lot more profound than her usual washed up “secular” bullshit she picked up along with her latte and vegan cranberry scones in Berkeley. It killed me that she could possibly be right. Marla Barstad hadn’t changed much since our time spent shackled together in honors high school courses side-by-side with genuine kiss-your-ass kind of looks spread across our faces. And I was comfortable with her dependability. Her new found Jesus catchphrase of seemingly token (or not token?) intellect actually had me thinking. New thinking, that is.

Searching this concept of a manifestation of some foreign, powerful…something that makes squeezing into my loafers every morning worth the while. Marla. The same girl who wore that little purple number to her first interview with Boeing to “make up for a lacking 3.7 undergrad accumulative” and actually got the second interview. The girl who called me on the phone crying when Christian Bale offed himself.

Is there fault in this? Not the joker crap, but this idea of a god we worship selectively? Is there possibly some sort of legitimate theology based on mankind’s unadulterated ineptitude? a lacking that most of our so perceived “alpha species” fails to recognize until one day they realize that their trust fund didn’t turn into a new heart after 40 years of sitting on it, and no, their wife probably isn’t actually going out for more groceries five times a week. And then all you’re left with is four-seasons-past Hugo Boss dress suit you have on, and your only slightly neglected dog named after some singer from the 60′s.

I’ve seen it before. Iv’e been there before… in a way. All of us. Marla. “I gave my pitiful life to the Lord, Michael.” How can I not feel patronized by my own lack of spiritual dogmatism? Or credence? But then, all I have known in life is uncertainty. Even now Marla has me in a cliche-vomiting frenzy. But, my dog’s name is Marvin… and she does have me thinking new. I mean, potentially what could I have been assigning to this god that I have always known does not exist?

Randy.

megangularte — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 23:11:58 +0000

This is the plate

most of the time in the mornings.

Endowment…

Please forgive me.

He was a good ‘ol boy,

a boxer. She,

getting taller…

heads bump.

They weren’t made of stone,

but metal.

This is endowment.

During rehearsal

it still has the same meaning

to her as the man

in the gloves.

Approach and wait.

Upper cut. still.

Pulling back the years.

For it ages

his roadmap gloves.

It is never general though

years ago…

trails off.

seen it in the movies,

when they open the safe.

Check-off.

One. Two. Three. Four…

Pounding- what is not said.

Well, nothing is said.

Even ignoring the audience now.

The ring still stands.

And yet, when she was born,

his family was complete.

M.E.G.

Promise.

megangularte — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 06:22:24 +0000

All that was asked for

was a fulfilled promise,

some other moral…

That is the concept behind it

they are categorically imperative.

The deadly depression scenario.

Deductive wisdom,

consequentialism,

outcome.

The consequence was a death.

Who started this whole thing?

People are listening-

it may not be entirely clear

they say it will

it will.

Eventually you will see

or more specifically

to our situation,

see moral.

Consequentialism,

outcome… but

the consequence left me.

Come and See.

megangularte — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 04:23:18 +0000

We had our heritage slaughte
red
So that we might reci
eve
our inheritance.
They took us from the land
to let us d
own.
I will walk with bles
sing and sing.
I will walk with e
yes like pup
pets
that remain pul
led
up to the heavens.
Such meek clay w
ill
hold me d
own
and take my brea
the.
How can one sp
ring
towards a b
ride
so so pervasive.
Sift sift through
a man
a bride
a li
on.
a com
pass.
a rea
Son.
Walk a
way
now and h
old
to a plume.
A feat
her
of hope that b
rang a twig
that might ring
like a bell
if only e
yes
come out from
darkness.
im
merge
and de
feat
sepa
rating
walls that hang.
They have hung
like death be
fore.
Before we knew
breathe.
before he knew brea
the.
feet s
wing
that we might h
old
on to one a
lone.
No need
to debate rea
son.
Have reason and
take organ…
know th
at
we are fools.
Fools we w
ill
be and fools
we will break.
irrevocable
and un
sharing
will bring no
thing.
every
thing.
the people turned
to us?
fools.
all fools.
Share in the vessel m
embers.
a situati
on
fixed tight
to copse.
Hallelu
jah…
A
men.

M.E.G.

Re-Write.

megangularte — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 06:59:45 +0000

More than dive, pull-rip, fine.

Point-of-comatose, thrive.

Wink this way to live, to die.

take hand-held-hand, but also drive

water well to water only lives

and offer a token heart-shaken knife.

Don’t, say, stray at night light signs

but hold, hold, say “how?” to my guise.

Go flee, rip-tear, toss, walk and decide.

Take one battle lantern, ringing only at this night.

Heritage stroke to calm, pull, give as die.

Dye to hold the motion calm into darkness’ light.

Box unfold those tokens into cold delight.

I wanted shoppers dreaming, wanting fickle time

for forty years of removing hat to tithe

over and over make my burden pinch, call, might

Holy, Holy, cry, cry, cry to wash in the myre.

My! that his/her love… but love is just desire?

Fractured circle shapes fall out of the lyre

while sinking, folding tunes pull one to the fire.

Indulgence gives and carries up the wires,

but songs that play short clang only for one denier.

Save such lust and tug! measly tight-rope crier!

Drink that holy cry instead to avoid the fire.

For Hope tops, lifts, upholds all that is the one Designer.

M.E.G.

Up The Hill and Behind The Truck.

megangularte — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 16:16:42 +0000

So we were driving up the hill to have one of the nicest dinners I would have while in the Philippines. It was going to be up on the top of a hill with a beautiful view to the coast over the towns that led to it. on the way up we passed two unfortunate men on a motorcylce. We were nine in a truck, five in the bed of the truck.

We park. Get out. A few of us are taking the things form the truck bed and putting them in the cab to be safe and we hear POW POW POW POW. Now, my first thought, and the first thought of quite a few of us was “Oh… fireworks!” This is somewhat comical in retrospesct. Some of us even went out further into the open parking lot to get a better view of the sky. Nothing. POW POW POW.

It was then that some of us noticed the small metal objects rushing through the night air. I never knew that when you see bullets at night you can kind of see the air moving out of its way. Unfortunately I noticed this because I had such an up close and personal view of the event. The sharp high pitched sound of bullets wizzing by at head level just 5 and 10 feet away was all too movie-like. Also, the long term Worker we were with is fluent in Tagolog and informed us a man had just yelled “help me, I’ve been shot!”. .. And the nine of us ducked and covered behind the truck.

Now, thinking that we would possibly need to escape and drive away safely all nine of us shoved ourselves into the cab of the truck. Again, in retrospect this was pretty laughable too since we are all sizeable Europeans and Americans with one Filipina.

This, I would say, was the most frightening part because I could not see out of the windows but my Austrian friend could. While we prayed out loud, she updated us on the men walking around the back of our truck hunched over and holding things. Not my favorite thing to hear about while my head was pressed up against the window. By that point to gunfire had ceased and we decided out of the car and into the restaurant was wiser.

As soon as we are out of the truck cab the manager of the restaurant is there ushering us in “Come in, come in… nothing is wrong everything fine! just a little despute outisde… no guns in here!” HA!

None the less we went into the safe restaurant and though some were still a bit shaken we proceeded to order. And that was that. When we asked what had happened we learned that the men we had passed on a moto on the drive up the hill ahd a man waiting for them to shoot at them in order to settle a personal vendetta. The man hunched, walking around our car was the man who had been shot in the arm. The shooter had run and was being pursued.

The whole experience was a testament of how Good good our God is. If we had been two minutes earlier we would have been in the line of fire and if we had been two minutes later than we were we would have been in the line of fire. Every day on my trip i felt completely protected because our God is Gooooood.

And that is my story to keep you reading. Hope you enjoyed!

Current song: Stacks by Bon Iver

Just To Keep You Hooked…

megangularte — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 06:43:22 +0000

Well, i will be home in a week. I will actually be back in the states for our debrief about five days. Seems so crazy to me. I am really pretty sick right now. for the last few days ive had a crazy fever and stomach pains and head ache. It gave me unpleasant flashbacks to almost dying in Japan, but luckily i woke without the fever this morning so i am feeling more positive and healthy. still coughing though. luckily we are at a resort for about 3 days. by amazingly lucky chance we got a short vacation to end the trip. and i am learning more and more about God’s perfect timing lately since i would much rather have to be sick now and relax half heartedly than serve others half heartedly. Also please pray for Diane because it seems that she is begining to come down with the same thing.

So God is good and it is so beautiful here. It is a whole different side of Philippine culture i have most definetly not seen these last two months. The paradox of simultanaity. look it up : )

speaking of culture embracing… i ate balut for the first time this week. google “balut” for sure. im not sure i can explain it well enough for the full affect, but i basically ate a partly developed chicken embryo in the egg. SICK. but “when in Rome…” annnd it wasnt as bad as i thought it would be.

also, to keep you guys reading even after i return home… i am saving the biggest adventure i have had for last. i am unable to write about it while i am still in this country but i think youll want to know about it. so please keep praying. pray for safe travels and good health and that we can have an affect for Him the whole time.

oh and als0, about two days ago there was a HUGE anniversary celebration for a religious belief here called Iglesia Ni Christo. it is fairly cult-ish from what i understand and the streets were covered with thousands of followers from all over the island of Mindanao. it was only the 95th anniversary of the religion and i am not sure why none of the followers have questioned that, but they are devout and it was difficult to see so many people celebrating something so empty and void of “J”. please pray for all of those people as they are clearly seeking for something.

I pray all is well with all of you!

current song: Till The Sun Turns Black By Ray LaMontagne

Kapi. Kapi Kapi.

megangularte — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 07:53:29 +0000

Two Days… Two Funerals.

megangularte — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 04:55:47 +0000

This blog entry is not the happiest. In the last two days Diane and I have attended two funerals. The first experience was actually the third day of the funeral. Here people recognize the loss of a death on the first day, third day, ninth day, fifteenth day, fortieth day, and at the one year mark. So we were there at day three after the loss of a man who left behind two wives and four children. It is very common here for there to be many different stories behind the deaths of people as well as about everything else, but we probably heard six stories about this man’s passing. He was murdered, that part is for sure… he was shot many many times. And he was warned not to go into certain areas because of threats to his life but he claimed he could stay one step ahead of anyone and went to the areas instead. Eventually he left behind the four children… the youngest a few months old. And I do not think any sort of law will be implemented because people are afraid of having the same fate as the man for opening their mouths.

The funeral was a gathering of many people who knew him and the family. No special dress like at home… just people coming together. We knew the man’s sister and it was difficult to see her so sad. We ate and drank coffee with them as is custom and a form of prayer at a funeral.

Then, one of the children we always see at the student center we work at in that town was there at the funeral, but went home early because his mom had not been feeling well and he wanted to take care of her. So he went home and we thought nothing of it. We followed shortly after to the center, ate and held our nightly tutoring English and math classes, played the game signs with our friends and went to sleep.

We woke up to the news that the little boy had passed away in the night. They did not know why exactly but assumed that he either ate something that was poisonous that he thought was edible or ate something poisoned which happens here in certain areas. Not sure. Either way, when I knew I would be immersed in a new culture I knew funerals and weddings would probably be a part of the experience, but I never ever expected to see an 8 year old boy be buried. Never. I wont go into the details of the funeral for him but ill say it was very emotional and definitely brought about the first tears of my internship and I really wish it had been for a different reason. A few weeks ago I was playing soccer with that boy and his sister and friends.

It has been a very long two days and Diane and I are back to our normal homestay. This is basically our last week working in the community. You know… in our international development classes we learn so much about infant mortality rates in third world countries but it was not real for me until this week. My heart is broken and so I am feeling even more called to be Used in people’s lives here. Please pray for that in our last days working here.

Current song: Anonanimal by Andrew Bird