Monday, March 31, 2014

Poem: Wanderer

Wanderer
3-31-14
By: Jessica Cole Robinson


 A thirst I cannot
Quench
Stumbling repeatedly
To you
A beggar in the
Desert
Your hand does not
Extend
You give what was once mine
To him
Shriveling up further
I cannot so much as
Swallow
The harsh realities to
Ponder
For me your heart is
Hollow
I turn in circles
In this land
Of dry and bone
Looking for the everlasting water
To bring me into my own
Each time I return to
You
You look so good in the day’s sun
I think you’ll bring refreshment
To my skin
And yet again
You have not for me
Some
How can it be
That you’re the only one here
In this hot as hell land
I beg you, I beg you,
Please extend out your hand
My savior in this bright, beating light
For me you have nothing to give
And life does not abound
Why, oh why, then must you be
The only one
In these circles that I live?!
Returning to you
In my merry-go-round of sickness
Lips parched dry
A heavenly excitement
Pours in
I’m not going to die
With your sweet smile
And kind eyes
I think THIS IS IT! THIS IS IT!
But the water goes
To the other guy
I kneel to the ground and grit

I am bound by life
A purgatory of my own
To simply keep repeating the same
Cycles
In this dry ground
My love has grown
To see you is a moment of
Relief
An excitement to be sure
But when I realize
You have no water for me
I continue to wander
Thirsty


Poem: Tracks We Tread

An idealistic person walks through life digesting relationships and experiences and holds on to the nutrition found within them.  It's difficult to predict or to fathom that pointed shared experiences can be so sustaining and everlasting meaningful to one but easily discarded by another.  Regardless of the ending we are left with the growth we obtain from them.  I'm an idealist and like to think that meaningful life happenings are equally worth holding on to for the other party.  This is not always the case.  Or it may be simply that people change and so does what they value...   Either way, for the one that holds, it is a sad pill to swallow.



Tracks We Tread
3-31-14
By: Jessica Cole Robinson


Walking restless
Mental weight
Shifts
To you
Paths we’ve tread
Once dug deep
Now covered by
Time

Where did you go?

Naive
Once I thought
Trails walked together
Could not come to pass
Could not be forgotten
As if we didn’t happen
Once happy to love

Longing for our
Tracks to be visible
Side by side
We created something
Beautiful
Have you forgotten?

A journey
Appreciated
For our passage to once again
Bear fruit

My friend,
The one who enlightened me
To myself and to
A special kind of love
Where are you
And why do you

Remain hidden?

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Love at First Sight

“God is great, beer is good and people are crazy.”

            The belief that that an individual can fall in love with another at first sight has always been seen by me as either absolute poppy-cock or for those that are not me.   The notion that an individual can lay their eyes on a future beloved and know intrinsically that the target of sight is their one and only defies sensibility and logic.  It perpetrates the comforts of knowing and boundaries, yet manages to be a notion that all that are single either are intrigued by or secretly wish the love bug touched them. 
            For our friends or family that have relationships where they claim they found love at first sight and knew immediately, we caution them and we find ourselves embedded in the conundrum of thinking they are idiots but wanting the phenomenon to be true for ourselves.   Much like God and Heaven, we want it to be true.  We hold hope but the skepticism in us usually reigns. The notion that our paths can simply brush with another and intuition can kick in so hard that we know instantaneously that they are meant to be our forever is both ludicrous and intriguing. 
            I read a research article on sciencedaily.com that says, “Falling in love can elicit not only the same euphoric feeling as using cocaine, but also affects intellectual areas of the brain. Falling in love only takes about a fifth of a second.” The question they posed after stating this is, is it the brain or the heart that does the falling in love?  Either way, I don’t care.  As a non-married woman, the process involved is irrelevant.  All I want to know is when it happens and whom it is with.  Some, if not all would say that I was a hopeless romantic in my younger years; in love with love, rose pedaled glasses, idealistic to a fault…yadda, yadda, yadda.  And they would be right.  Love was a meal perfected and I wanted to taste of it daily.  I had a vicious hunger. The slab of love that I had served up on my plate, however, was of the Taco Bell ground beef variety and not of the filet mignon variety.
            So here lies in wait a 30-year-old woman who has not found neither love at first sight nor that delicious filet mignon plate…or have I? I no longer wear the rose-pedaled glasses of loves idealism.  I’ve been to broken down by that system of belief to subscribe any longer. I am genuinely concerned for my beloved friends and family who fall in love quickly and yet, when I become immersed in loves wake, I understand and do not fret.  I understand the hypocrisy in this.   Though I have a superior sense of how I feel and why I feel it compared to those that care and do fret about my life choices.  It is true that I have drowned in my Taco Bell love experiences before.   The ground beef snuffed me out!   But what happens when love really does come around????
            Love has come around for me.  It was not love at first sight or second sight.  It was love that I wanted to shun for I have become a disbeliever in my own ability to find happiness with someone else.  You get so used to the shit that when Gold shows up at your doorstep, it’s a learning curve.  It’s met with almost a resistance.  I do not desire to keep referencing this metaphor but it’s rather accurate; when an individual is used to eating Taco Bell for fulfillment and then you switch over to filet mignon and say, asparagus….one is left craving the crap nutrition of T-Bell.  Bad love isn’t too far from that.  The healthy comes in and we crave the carbs and saturated love fat. We want to eat in the car instead of the fancy restaurant
            Do I believe I found my love in the fifth of a second research says it takes? No.  (Perhaps it was a 5th of a second from when I didn’t know to when I knew) But then again, do I have all the knowledge and tools I need to make a well informed, educated, logical decision on this love piece? Nope.  But doesn’t love in its very form transcend logic?  We can sometimes quantify it and qualify it with data and logical reason but it is my belief that for EVERYONE there are elements that supersede logic and mathematical equations.  We all cry wolf on love until the moment a wolf really shows up.  But who believes us when we get to that point?!  Especially after so many attempts to cry out?!

            Love can happen at first sight for some.  Personally, I think I’m not intellectual or intuitive enough to know if it were to happen for me.  All I have to work with is this;  I know how I feel.  I know I don’t trust diddly-damn-doo at this point and I also know that I have faith that there is someone out there for me.   I know that my filet mignon has ended up on my plate and that I’m found feening for the ever unhealthy Taco “Hell” in my arteries.  Good food and good love is a learning curve and an adjustment indeed.  Love is unpredictable and people are crazy.  =)   Bon-appetite

Friday, March 14, 2014

Where Your Deepest Gladness and The World's Deepest Hunger Meet; A Journey with Homeless Youth and Then Some!

  "WORK IS LOVE MADE VISIBLE" - Khalil Gibran 



       I began the job of a lifetime a little over 3 years ago as an Education and Employment Counselor for Urban Peak.  I knew heading into it that it was going to be a life-altering, eye-opening, life-giving, experience.   I bought a new journal to write in with the hopes that I would chronicle my experiences working for Urban Peak.  I quickly realized that writing  about the situations that profoundly affected me would be almost as exhausting as the emotional effort that I put into my clients.  On those days that my heart was wrenched in one way or another, the last thing I had energy for was to write it all and relive it.  
    I had the blessing, honor, and distinction of working with and counseling homeless youth in downtown Denver.  When I embarked on my educational journey at Hope College as a Religion major, little did I know that in a few years I would be doing the work that I was able to.  I was a white, privileged kid from "Mayberry land", Grand Haven, Michigan.   Grand Haven resembles paradise along the lakeshore.  We do not have parking meters, cameras on stop lights, or speed traps along the way.  We also do not have homeless folks panhandling (a term I only became familiar with once hired at Urban Peak; begging for money, etc. in the street), let alone homeless children sleeping on the streets.  The world is very different from the world I grew up in and went to college in.  It's amazing how even people who live in the suburbs around Denver and frequent the city can have absolutely no idea how youth homelessness is such an issue.  But it is...
       Truthfully speaking, I could write a whole book on my experiences working for Urban Peak and the homeless youth of Denver.  Truthfully speaking, I will NEVER capture a fraction of my experience in just one blog.  My whole journey working for homeless youth began when my loathing of the injustice of our society for the need for panhandlers in the Denver/Metro area met with Netflix and a documentary called Skid Row by rapper Pras from the Refugees.  It was clear to me that Pras, although well intended, was a music star with a heart for the plight of homeless folks but lacked a personal connection with those that were experiencing homelessness.  Upon seeing his documentary, I wanted to take the cause and my loathing of the social issue a step further;  I wanted to know, build relationships with, and deliver aid...any kind of aid...to those in need.  Combine this passion and desire with my desire and passion for youth and education and I ended up in the most perfect position; counseling homeless youth in life, in work, and in education.  
       I've always been a relationally based person.  "Real" work seems empty if it's void of human growth for me.  What I do (vocationally) most definitely needs to be feeding others, AKA giving back to humanity.  I feel it's my social duty to pour my energies vocationally into people.  It stands to reason then that I shall make a living serving others.  I'm interested in and passionate about psychological abnormalities and nature vs. nurture affects.  In my profession I have witnessed the ridiculous negative affects of nature vs. nurture (HEAVE EMPHASIS ON NURTURE).  Speaking in generalizations: I've seen that for most 80% of what we do in life seems to be a manifestation of the social support and structures we have been raised with.  I refer to this as our "tool box".  Some of us, due to how we were raised, have been given more tools to store away than others.  
          Being raised in a Republican family composed of two leading male figures that have been cops their whole lives, I was nurtured into thinking at a young age that homelessness was a lazy man's disease.   It was a problem to those that fell on bad luck and didn't exercise determination and resiliency and pull themselves up by their boot straps.  The problem of homelessness was literally summed up just as that.    The issue was black and white, as most issues of social justice and morality were.  The trouble with the black and white is that it takes out the individual in that position.  It is void of circumstance, resources, and other extenuating circumstances.  It's void of humanity.
          Insert 27 year-old Jessica Robinson.  A woman, yet very much so a child in regards to her experiences with the nitty gritty of real life.  Entering into my position I was already anticipating that the youth I served would add more to my life than I could to theirs  Ya see, if you don't move forward with people with some concrete foundation of respect and the anticipation that they can add to you just as much if not more than you can to them, all is lost already.  My tool box might be more built up than some of them but what is important to recognize is that we are all on a journey...the same journey.  We might take different paths but we're all trying to do the same thing here; survive.   Being in the position I was, I could put youth in touch with a multitude of different resources for school and employment.  I would play that honest, loving, directive, consistent individual many had been missing growing up.   I've helped youth in their most basic of needs; hygiene, nutrition, self-esteem, and walked with them through the steps of filing for taxes, applying for FAFSA, speaking with professors, teachers, and probation officers, etc.  Things that most of us had our parents to direct us in, I walked through with my youth who did not have the family support.  I had the honor of rejoicing in their successes - obtaining their GED, being accepted into college, giving birth, or just merely finding their voice in this world.  As I had the honor and privilege of walking through their successes with them, I also had the honor and privilege of experiencing their heartache and pain with them.  Further rejection from families,  struggles with sexual orientation, drug abuse and addiction, mental health issues in the most severest forms, sexual abuse, beatings, arrests, rejection,  court dates, sleepless nights, abandonment, etc.   
            One of the most eye opening experiences I had was one that would happen fairly regularly.  I would arrive at work at 8:30 in the morning at work.  I would park my car and sometimes have to ask youth to clear out their camps in order for me to park my car.  They would be asleep on the concrete outside of our building in our parking spaces.  They had slept there for the night because it was one of the only places that they felt safe for the night without fearing their lives.  At times the youth that I asked to move out of the way were the youth I taught, case managed, and had my life touched by on a regular basis.  These were the kids that despite sleeping on the streets, showed up for class at 10am to better their lives.  They showed up for no other reason than to make themselves better than they were the day before. 
             Imagine your life living on the streets.  No concrete form of social support; every man for them-self.  Your belongings are never safe.  You don't know where your next meal is coming from.  You have no clue where you're going to sleep that night.  It might be the garbage bin next to the building you feel most secure being at.  Throw in some mental health issues on that and it's a recipe for disaster....yet, youth are so resilient.  You and me, we probably wouldn't survive but these kids do! And for that I have all the respect in the world.  The maintain a sense of humor and hope amidst all the difficulties.  It's amazing actually. 
             I lost 3 youth while working for Urban Peak.  The first youth was a 20 year-old gentleman.  The last time I saw him he was on my office phone screaming at someone on the other end that someone was going to die.  He stormed out of my office that day and I wished that he would stay and discuss matters with me.  I next received an email that he had been brutally murdered, found in some bushes so hacked up that the police officers could not identify his race.  The next was a young woman of 19.  A hard-ass chick that had some tender points.  She had been in the system all her life.  In and out of treatment facilities.  She was murdered a few blocks down from where I worked; the shot to the throat is what killed her.  The most amazing, life giving funeral I've ever attended was hers.  The last but not least was a young man, 19 years of age as well.  He was a young military man that had the unfortunate burden of carrying the weight that he was gay.  I had the pleasure of having numerous one on one conversations where he would bring his deepest thoughts and concerns to the table.  I remember him as a welcoming, loving, deep feeling man.  He intentionally overdosed while staying in a hotel after he was let go from our shelter due to mental health concerns that exceeded our capacity.  The situation that got him dismissed was cutting himself and wiping the blood of his arms around his eyes and walking around the shelter.  He died May 18th, 2013. I ran the fastest and farthest of my life on May 19th last year for the Colfax marathon because I had his name on my mind.  I ran on a relay team for Urban Peak to raise money for our organization.  I ran for S.F. and all my youth.  
           In a position like I was in, you don't forget the names, the faces, and the stories of the youth you encounter.  You don't forget the joy in the midst of hardship or triumph in a land filled with  barrier after barrier.  The staff at Urban Peak are one of a kind.  They are truly dedicated to the mission and their youth.  They approach life with a classic sense of humor, joy, and love.  I was more than blessed to serve along side of them.  They are warriors for the youth they serve.  The staff and youth will serve as a constant reminder throughout my life just how beautiful this world is.  Thanks to my position at Urban Peak, I know the pleasure of being apart of something so much greater than myself.  I know what it is like to literally be willing to lay your life down for that greater thing and accept your own mortality.  I will carry my experiences, the youth, and staff with me throughout my life.  I have without a doubt been profoundly affected by the work I was blessed enough to do.  
            A famous theologian by the name of Fredrick Buechner once wrote, "The place God calls you to is the place where you're deepest gladness and the world's deepest hunger meet".  We all have our place in this world vocationally speaking and as members of society.  I believe in pursuing what brings you great joy and what, in some form, brings others joy.  One of the most beautiful things in this life is being a part of this squeaky, rusty, machine called civilization and having the joy of working together in some way (no matter how broken or asshole-ish we are).  We are all contributors; no one is exempt.  I thank God for it all and plan to continue to seek and serve where my joy meets the world's hunger.  

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Foundation. When the Snow is too Deep; Find Another Way!

         When I was a child my parents would take me cross country skiing with them.  This happened up at our cottage as well as in the "back 40" of my parent's property.  I especially enjoyed the trips around my parents property with my mother and father and our golden retriever, Casey.  On special occasions we would even dare out into the woods at night with the trail light only by the moon.  This past week I unearthed my mother's archaic cross country skis from the basement.  For the first time since I was a small child, I strapped skis on my feet and embarked out into my parents woods with my beloved black lab, Kona.  
          Mother nature has supplied West Michigan with copious amounts of snow this Winter.  The trail was marked only by the absence of trees and the memory of them that are forever etched in my mind.  I had to blaze a trail of my own, so to speak.  As I continued to ski I began to gain more confidence in my abilities to do so.  It took me a minute but soon I had fallen into a rhythm.  I began as a child again and with each movement forward found myself moving into adulthood on my mother's skis.  
          I have such pointed memories on those trails of my childhood, my dog Casey, my parents, and the two neighborhood kids that grew-up with me as siblings.   Traveling around the property I could envision all of those memories being played out in my head.  It's interesting how life changes.  We grow, we evolve, and if we are lucky enough the people and places we love do the same with us.  Kona is in the land of milk and honey with the woods and I'm not so calloused to recognize that I am too.
         Starting out on those familiar trails on my mother's skis I felt like a child.  By the time I arrived back at the house I was keenly aware of the fact that I am my own, grown woman.  But still on my mother's skis with my parents property all around me.  Perhaps a metaphor lies in there somewhere. ;)  I strapped on the skis yesterday to make trek two out into the woods.  I was having a challenging morning wrestling with beginning to miss Colorado and coping with the fact that I had a life out there and the last 4 1/2 years wasn't just some weird dream.  I thought perhaps that getting out into the "back 40" would help add some clarity of thought; plus I was excited to make my previous marks on the trail more well defined. So I went through the tedious process of getting on all my snow gear, emotionally anticipating some sense of freedom in skiing back there, and getting the dog outside.
          I got no more then a quarter of the way through the yard, looked down, and realized that the bottom of the ski had peeled off and was hanging by a thread!  A few profanities leaped from my mouth, I unstrapped from the skis, and stomped back inside the house.  The snow is too deep to simply go walking through the woods.  There went my chance at clarity!  Angry, I sent my girlfriend a text with more profanities and a defeatist attitude.  What a horseshit morning! 
          My desire to be out there however, outweighed my childish pouting and it occurred to me that I am in fact an adult and have been provided some problem solving skills.  I was bitter about not being able to ski.  In my bitterness I strapped on my snowshoes and set out on the trail. Time to recalibrate.  It was a beautiful, sunny, morning.  I had this idea in my head about further making my imprint on MY trail with the skis. Once I was on the trail for a bit I looked back at the trail my snowshoes were leaving over the marks of the skis from previous in the week…my trail is much more well defined with the snowshoes.  
          I learned a few things from these two treks out into the woods and the demise of my mother's skis.  First, I learned that we can change and grow but if we are lucky enough to have a good foundation, we can always set our feet or "skis" on it.  I am my parents child and the foundation of me lies in that.  However, just as I have made a trail of my own in the fresh snow, I am doing the same in life.  It is no longer my parents who ski with me or my childhood dog Casey but just myself and my adulthood dog, Kona.  Though my feet are firm on the ground my folks have provided for me; just as the woods are still there for my taking. I believe my experience this week is also a metaphor for the acceptance that God's plan for us may not be what we originally thought or even desire.  Snowshoes aren't as exciting as skis but I enjoyed every bit of it and even managed to blaze a bigger trail.  That was not something I thought of or considered.  

We can lie in defeat in the wake of brokenness or allow God to show us a new way and beauty amidst the pain and frustration that life can deliver.  

After much coffee this morning, it's time for me to head out with my pup into the woods for some more snowshoeing.  =)  Thanks be to God.