Uploads from sublimetofu

grain is beautiful

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 00:47:30 -0700

there is a sun-beaten story in tatters on the stone heart wall. rays bleached them almost senseless, until it was soft and senseless as a cloud (atlas... zing). Time tore fingernails at the cold hard foundation itself, leaving grooves and revealing the all-too-alive heart, still beating into these little veins in the concrete, the streets, the grit. making everything alive with every pulse of the city.

Someone reminded me of how lucky we are to be alive in this city. And I'm old enough to immediately say Amen to that.

"And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." Ezekiel 36:26

2012. Arts District, Los Angeles.

bricks and steel

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Fri, 10 Aug 2012 20:35:56 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

A country of bricks and steel, built on industrial systems and modernization, built on restlessness and progression, built on freedom of choice and the willingness to change, built on ideas and free thought, built on dreams put into steady motion, built on a brave few that were willing to stand for what is right and good and true.

"In these days of difficulty, we Americans everywhere must and shall choose the path of social justice, the path of faith, the path of hope, and the path of love toward our fellow man" - F.D.R.

One of the many reasons why FDR was so boss.

2012. Los Angeles, CA.

beyond clockwork

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Sun, 20 May 2012 15:35:51 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

When do you reset?

All the pieces matter. The smallest wheel in your head kickstarts imagination, another cog moves mountains, and there's a thingamajig that keeps it all together. It's like puffing into a NES cartridge (old school). Sometimes you need to take it all apart, breathe, and reset.

As I spend more of my life working, I realize no matter your title, how many zeros (or lack thereof) jiggle around in your paycheck, how many miles an hour you're running, how many things you are beasting, it always comes back to the basics: What are you made of? What makes you tick? What was your first passion and your first love-- and where is it now?

If you can't answer any of these, it's time.

2012. Eames Exhibit, A+D Museum. Los Angeles, CA.

Bread and Thread

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Sun, 20 May 2012 15:35:50 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

I'm learning it's really not about the dough.

"Man does not live on bread alone..."
"So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?...'"

I get it a little bit more each year. When I see friends give up a cushy consulting gig to pursue their gastronomical passions. When I see those around me suffer through their costly creative process for nothing more than the prospect of something great beyond it.

It's not about the money you make: it's really about the story happening in your life right now and the relationships threaded into your everyday. Because they're in it for a reason. Your story and the people in your life-- that's what it's about.

As I get older and the bills pile up, it's harder to keep this perspective that money doesn't matter THAT much. But in the end, if I had to choose between bread and thread, I want to choose the latter. Not because friends and the people in your life are infallable or perfect-- far from it! They'll squabble with you, betray you, wound you to your core. But there is a deep call to live life together.

They are the same people that will be your encouragement, fearless advocate, voice of reason and truth, and the steady hand at your back when you're afraid.

The story of singular people choosing to thread their lives together is a power example of strength in brokenness. Walking together in understanding and unity is a beautiful thing-- I wanna see more of it in my life.

2012. Eames Exhibit, R+D Museum.

the economics of fruit

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 18:14:07 -0800

sublimetofu posted a photo:

I rang in the new year curled up next to him on his squeaky black living room couch. His parents clinked glasses four feet away, so there was only a quick peck to the other's cheek and moderate sipping of champagne. We flipped on the television, the ball dropped and we watched Drake jump around his stage and hoist up his pants occasionally. He slips his arm around my shoulders and nestles his fingers in the nest of my hair.

This was not always. A year ago, we spent a cold December 31st afternoon carefully not looking at each other. There was a bleak hesitation stringing out between us until it was horribly invisible, but still fell sticky on all our words after. And now this damn expensive coffee is lukewarm in the individual clasp of our hands. Yours. Mine. Never ours, we decided.

"Hey. What are you thankful for in this past year?" I chirped, looking up from the crook of his armpit. He gives me a sideways glance and just smiles.

What does it mean to have something that is fruitful? It first means its rooted first in something that is honest, true, and sincere. It means waiting until the time is right and until everyone realizes their worth and what really matters; no longer being captive to fear of hurt, man, hard work, or the unknown. It takes time, humility-- but it is sweet and life-giving. Rooted in something deeper than the world, fed by streams of living water, and tempered true by consistent humility and service-- thank you for walking alongside me.

Happy one year. I love you.

safe and sound

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 16:25:59 -0800

sublimetofu posted a photo:

I'm not very brave.

When I was little, I was afraid of the dark. I was bold on the streets, sassy on the playground, a terror in the woods, shimmying up trees so high and leaving the earth and my gaping friends below. But the sun goes down, the night converges and I doze with a nightlight to keep the nightmares at bay. Monsters cannot legally eat you with light around. Just a fact, you know.

I wanted to be braver. I still do. I try, but I'm just not very. A running theme throughout my childhood, and now adult life. I contented myself with my glaring flaws and ever-present nightlight.

But now you're here and that changed lots of things, everything. I feel braver next to you. Like I could run an extra mile, take an extra hit to the head by life, eat an extra slice of pie. Is that romantic enough?

We've had life-changing journeys and rough adventures, or just quiet wandering-- I like all of them. Even when there's storms, valleys, and darkness, that's okay too. Because I know I'm safe and sound next to you.

2011. Downtown Los Angeles, CA.

make it better

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 15:05:18 -0800

sublimetofu posted a photo:

I've been hanging around people that appreciate fashion. Not just for it's high brow trends or "I drink the real kind of macchiato shit" lifestyle, but for the rich process of creating a good, lasting product. "Look at this stitching and the detail here. How did they get this fabric to react that way?" They cradle the sleeve reverently. They are young designers, refined and evolved "do-it-yourself" men and women, that drape their products on models on runways. I still wear shirts from Old Navy, but they tolerate me.

They care, a lot. But not necessarily to make money. It's for the process of molding an idea into life with your hands, of putting a human story into something that will be worn by a breathing, living individual. I get it and nod, but still can't believe I need to pay close to a bill for this gauzy tank top.

"Why red threads?" I shyly pick up a child's shoe that's hand-crafted to every order, knowing as much about shoe-making as I do about competitive Scandinavian hopstoch. The cobbler doesn't even glance up at me as she frowns at a scratch in the tiny outsole of her ware.

"Just because I could."

Why make something excellent, personable, lasting? Because you can.

2011. California Marketplace, Downtown Los Angeles, CA.

the skirt of the forest

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 17:33:31 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

Enough of this, she said, not in disgust, but mildly, as if reading off a menu.

She wandered to the edge of the forest, hoping to see a glimpse of something beyond tree tendrils and boulder crags. Maybe a flash of silver, a glimmer of otherworldliness in a clearing. Or an uncommonly vibrant bird flitting away to peer back at you underneath a hemlock. Or maybe even a half-empty Pringles can embedded at your feet.

Anything, she breathed, anything more.

"Oh afflicted city, lashed by storms and not comforted, I will build you with stones of turquoise, your foundations with sapphires" Isaiah 54:11

2009. Chicago Botanical Gardens, Chicago, IL.
Subject: C. Lee-Nelson

hand-eye coordination

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 23:18:24 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

I was changing my ink cartridge one day and it spewed all over my hands, scared squid-style. Stains refused to come out for over a week. It was persistent nonsense that would make people look twice as I walked down the street or paid for items.

Placing these soluble discs in my eye with these fingers would throw me for a loop. It looks dirty, but it's not; it was clean enough to touch my eye. What you see belies what is. The choice to accept your hand is clean even when it appears dirty, is a matter of understanding the truth and making the choice to live by it. If its clean, its clean.

And pop that sucker in your eye.

2011. Los Feliz, Los Angeles, California.

only a mother

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 19:35:14 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

... could love a face like this. The camel, I mean. And other than your mother, maybe the tuareg people.

Camels spit something fierce and dark brown. It left me alone but showered its putrid goodness all over my colleague. It bucked and tore angrily at the ground with its bear paw-- total beast wars, yo. It made a sound like an animal dying, some howl with more consonants than vowels-- and then settled, completely docile next to its master.

I remember writing my parents an e-mail from an internet cafe/shack in Ouagadougou. The keyboards were weird; buttons had been popped out and mixed around. It took me precious minutes to find apostrophes and exclamation marks. A year later, I was rummaging in my mom's snack "closet" and I found this e-mail lovingly pasted to the back of the door.

2009. Burkina Faso, Africa.

in the land of sugar and flies

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 13:14:20 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

You wake to the smell of burning trash and the pleading of goats. There is no dawn or dusk-- the country seems to plunge, without transition, into darkness and brilliant stars, then suddenly blazing sun and scorching heat. This is Africa.

I had the best cup of coffee in Ouagadougu. Thoroughly burnt and spun with cane sugar and flies, it was less about the taste or hygiene, but the revelation of what made each cup enjoyable. I spent most breakfasts eating "pan et cafe" with Francois, the breakfast stand man. The official language of Burkina is French, so our conversations were a lexical dance complete with hand motions, pictures, and the occasional thumbs ups. He laughed that flies bothered me so much.

"Flies will always be near," he chattered in his charming French lilt. "So if it is worth enjoying, then enjoy it. They should not bother." After the first month, they didn't so much. This is Africa.

A land of simplicity in the face of pervasive poverty or threats of war. A land of proud people that drink their sugar with coffee, not the other way around. A place where flies don't deter joy or a sweet cup of coffee with company.

2009. Ouagadougu, Burkina Faso, Africa.

young grasshopper.

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 01:26:10 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

I am another year older, but not old (I suppose)-- I still have so much to learn. This bugger flew straight into my face after the last shot. He ate the back of my hand and massive pavement.

"Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty." -- Henry Ford

2010. Naperville, Illinois.

blind and hobbled

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Thu, 18 Aug 2011 12:30:17 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

Caged up, without an eye and rocking on three legs, she gracefully wobbles over. She gnaws good-naturedly on my hand even after I poke her eye-socket. The fence and her circumstances-- she ain't trippin'-- they don't deter her joy. Straight to the Jesus analogy, Christ purchased new eyes for us as well as new hearts.

"I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their "divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic" existence" -- Clyde Kilby

Life can get tough, but its good to be alive.

2011. Art District, Los Angeles, California.

family matters

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 00:02:03 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

The last time I ate with my Dad, he had something to say. At the head of the table, he chewed his tofu contentedly and looked at his family, his funny disjointed family of misfits. Suddenly he reared forward and flecks of food flew as he exclaimed that "Jesus would be a vegan!" We all looked at him, mid-bite, "...if he were alive today." He laughed heartily. My step-mother nods in agreement, my step-sister rolls her eyes and spears her next bite, my little sisters keep running around the table. My boyfriend nods, smiles, and bites his lip.

At home in LA, we are back at some late-night food joint, so everyone has excusable late-night behavioral throes. Incessant talking gets louder and louder. Someone brought their puppy and it has peed on the floor. A joke cracks and everyone roars. Food, family, funky, yo. I close my eyes and lean back in my chair; someone is making raptor noises.

Often, families don't seem to make sense. But family matters, yo.

2011. Los Feliz, Los Angeles, California.

give and take and go

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Sat, 13 Aug 2011 22:53:54 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

Sometimes I want to taste the affliction, touch the agony, and see the blood that poured out of the Son that loved me before I loved myself. I desire to dig my hands deep into the stuff of Christ and then I realize it is not masochism that drives me, but a deep, electric love that does more than pierce me. It runs through my core and being, up my spine then back into this Earth. I think that explains relationships, the Great Commission, and electron flow-- I think.

'...we give and take and go in the incredibly complicated sweetness zigzagging every side.' "On The Road" Jack Kerouac

2011. Hakone, Japan.

the eye can see

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 14:17:49 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." C.S. Lewis

In my impatience for things ahead, I need to remember that a red light allows others to pass, in this well-purposed orchestrated traffic dance. And, more importantly: that red lights are short compared to the whole journey ahead. Damn.

This time of quiet walks and quiet talks, a cozy mix of transition and new chapters-- I am grateful, blessed, with the temptation to be antsy as hell. I know greater things are yet to come. Turn green soon, please.

2011. Los Angeles, California.

the unintentional eye

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 19:48:46 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

I quote him to no end, but Kierkegaard once wrote in his diary: "It is simple and beautiful and moving when a lover looks lovingly at his beloved, but it is most distinguished to gaze at her through opera-glasses. And so the physicist uses the microscope as a dandy uses opera-glasses; only, the microscope is focused on God."

In true, rude American fashion, I jumped the line at Lake Ashi, and hustled up to the window to grab a shot of the boats. A random reflective spot caught the auto-focus and it spun everything into a misty bokeh. An unintentional shot, I loosed a chewy expletive and disgruntled some nearby families with young children. Eff yeah, America.

Why do we do what we do? Whether its a trade, a hobby, a spur of the moment decision, a life-long plan-- whatever medium-- what are you focused on?

Sure, Jesus, ultimately. But I don't want to just take pictures of beautiful things; that fades, that's easy, that's only the surface. I want the story told, the deeper things. Things become beautiful when their stories unfold.

2011. Hakone, Japan.

i have something to say

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 03:06:23 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

Soren Kierkegaard once wrote: "People believe that religion is a matter for very loud talk". I believe in the power of words, a testimony, a spoken prayer, a piece of audio life, laughter. I honor the exchange of ideas, see the power of innovation through collaboration and discussion. That jazz, yo. Do I have something to say? Probably not.

Sometimes when I read the Word, an article, hear a song-- I'm moved. Whether its beauty, injustice, pain, joy-- Something inside of me shifts, sews a bit of my stomach to my heart, pushes my breath against my bones; a physical hurt torn open by just words. But when its time to step up to the mic, it rarely comes out the way it was meant to be said. Oh, it'll be fine and dandy, I suppose; just a reminder that my faith isn't meant to always be belted from a soapbox, or funneled into a mic. Faith needs to be walked out, comes through action, and remains rooted in that quiet intimacy with the Lord.

2011. Chinatown, Los Angeles, California.

enough talk

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 14:41:05 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

As I get older, I'm learning to ask better questions. It cuts out nonsense and those circular mental spins, the mental chatter.

Growing older is inevitable, but growing up is different. Growing up isn't unromantic or a loss of something precious-- I want to grow up (eff that ToysRUs kids business). Maybe growing up is learning to see beauty in brokenness, to appreciate the mundane in its brilliance, and to enjoy the process of walking from point A to Z in life. Maybe I say 'maybe' because I have much to learn, and I'm still closer to A than reaching Z, right now... maybe. But enough talk. I just want to walk.

2011. Santa Monica, California.

the way: tohoku to tokyo

nobody@flickr.com (sublimetofu) — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 17:44:47 -0700

sublimetofu posted a photo:

They call it the "travel bug" and "wanderlust". Like an illness or a vice, the longing to travel, to see, to go, to make your own space, to find your way-- whatever you want to call it-- can crawl underneath your skin and drive you to the purest form of insanity. When it plagues you, it says: 'any place, any way but this way.' A friend once summed it up as: "there has to be more to life than what it is right now." It can be seen as a wild look in your eyes. It feels like a gut twisting ache. It is labeled as the deep dissatisfaction with the status quo of your life or certain issues-- whatever it is, whatever you define it as, you suddenly can find yourself in another state, province, country. (Often saying "oh sht...")

On the shinkansen (bullet train) from Tokyo to Sendai, I watched the landscape break apart into gradual states of repairs: blue tarp covering buildings, wooden scaffoldings. The sun set in a flashy display and I wondered how I would find my way to where I needed to go... in the dark. I thought about the state of Christianity in Japan, the fractionized church, the <1% Christian populous, the celebration of darkness, suicide, and isolationism, the state of earthquake and tsunami relief in the Tohoku region. I also thought about why I felt restless, why I jumped at the first opportunity to come and see. What is the way?

After several days, I would watch the landscape pop back in reverse and be several pounds lighter, much dirtier, and eyes full of questions. I was still deeply dissatisfied and more disturbed by what I saw. My experience did not give me many answers, but reminded me that life can be lived in deep emptiness. People search expanses and depths for the filling of emptiness, but the question is neither 'what can fill me?' nor 'what am I missing?'. It is: what do I have?

After all the relief work was done, all the prayers for the families in mourning and loss-- I just wanted to touch, hug, kiss those I love.

"In our violent times, in which destruction of life is so rampant and the raw wounds of humanity so visible, it is very hard to tolerate the experience of God as a purifying absence and to keep our hearts open to patiently and reverently prepare his way. We are tempted to grasp rapid solutions instead of inquiring about the validity of our questions... In our desperate need for fulfillment and our restless search for the experience of divine intimacy, we are all too prone to construct our own spiritual events. In our impatient culture, it has indeed become extremely difficult to see much salvation in waiting."

Some might say Japan quenched my wanderlust, and it did. But not because I sat on a plane or had an adventure, but because His grace poured out over me to remind me that "in the patient waiting for the loved one, we discover how much he has filled our lives already".

2011. Tona, Japan. Asagaya, Japan.
Show me the Way. Henri Nouwen.