tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62599202231452849502024-02-18T19:20:18.368-08:00Mark SpiegelCreative enough to be me and free enough to fail.
I am back. I am not sure whether anyone is going to read this but I am going to write non-the-less.
My roommates and I are doing 21 day challenges to make ourselves better. 21 days is said to be the brink of habit forming and so we are undertaking 21 day journeys towards holistic being.
The following 21 days will be what they are.Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-41052946903373181212010-12-20T13:05:00.000-08:002010-12-20T13:05:38.083-08:00<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What a long strang trip…</span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"> Our journey to the sea has been met with… dance moves uncommon to the flat world in which they breath…styles that collide, grow and own the moment passing by… as well as stories yet told to jealous ones with burning ears and half empty glasses. The olio of warmth, laughter and experience pay the toll, encouraging the expression of elation to not only follow the leader but sway helplessly to the beat. A hut, simple in nature, houses the roaming home, with grace fitting the twelfth month in which it resides. The call summoned dreamers, innovators, lovers, wishers, believers, surfers, jokesters, shakers, hipsters, groovers, writers, creators, bakers, movers and northerners and southerners alike, to gather… to toast a season, where the only currency accepted rhymes with dove and champions the night. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We gather. We live. We laugh. We share. We dance. We inspire. We encourage. We unite. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"> The morn does not hold captive the rise of their days, for these beings illuminate a night, accustomed to easy uncontested victory over tired bodies and apathetic souls. The lot chase seconds held apart with courage fitting the bravest knight and persistence true to only the boldest of vagabonds. The most important meal of the day's honor is recognized past the sun's arrival at midday and with a brooding perfection of comfort, rare to even the south. Beats bounce, rhythms run then return, while songs sung, common to the passing tribes' soul, surrender amidst the movement of love's mighty wake. Riding this specific yet unruly wave, beckons hearts full, to overflow freely, toting tomorrows' style with todays intent. Weather only encourages this group; wool gathered and worn evolves to meet winds unseasonably quiet and sweet. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We share. We cook. We drink. We merry. We toast. We enjoy. We smile. We unite. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">These gypsy queens bow only to the maker of their breath, as lessons in friendship, the day's delight and dreamy revolutions are taught with grace real enough to hide behind yet uniquely bold to the flow. Free spirits, like these, entice even the darkest of days to forfeit the reigns of chances' outcome, while prevailing in communicating through a dead language… not yet asleep but awake… not heard but felt…not listened to but related with…not established in the now but rooted in memories tipping their steady tongues of instances long since passed. Dynamically bounding in potential, tastes the slice as well as the pie. Apart, character is hosted amongst strangers turned friends, kindling flames of heroines upon braving the glassy status quo. Ability, talent, beauty and depth lie just beneath a stillness rusted by heads down and teachers blind with limits. To be unleashed upon the world, would and is a hope worthy of any poem or picked daisy. To be unleashed upon the world is a prayer from the wise; looking to the half dozen to create anew the world they paint on a fresh daily refrain. These gypsy queens rule the day, flood the night and dance in-between. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We gather. We live. We laugh. We share. We dance. We inspire. We encourage. We unite</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Kings nomadically nurtured strut, side by side with the aforementioned pictures of hope, lending laughter in the face of chaos. Raw soaked emotion yawlps from deep within these leaders of daybreak towards quality understanding and highly coveted experiences. Their tread can be seen challenging the staunch traditions of mindlessness on a path blazed towards narrow's promise of eternity. Teachers, coaches, students of life's honors courses, their theories of God-sized living have proofs written in crayon and added, subtracted and multiplied with skips and jumps. Barbarians pursuing each other rather than the worlds' seemingly complete how to's, are a unruly crash of content contemplation teamed with hunger for the unseen. Their pleasure includes service, which begs to wage war, and love, learned through intimacy with the wind. These kings bow as well as raise up like trees, shift the focus of mirrors and dream dreams worth pursuing. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We share. We cook. We drink. We merry. We toast. We enjoy. We smile. We unite.</div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-16659306956158569492010-12-01T13:09:00.000-08:002010-12-01T13:09:03.806-08:00<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Cardboard Emotions.</span></b> </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"> Today. I stood on the side of the road and held a cardboard sign. The sign simply said LOVE. As snow fell and my fingers became numb… smiles, honks and waves began to intercede as the chorus of today's song. Beautiful to experience really. With my bike stationed just behind the median, I raised my hand-made sign high above my head and smiled with my teeth. The font rivaled that of a Microsoft's Times New Roman and the size would most likely be numbered at, well, huge. So there I stood. Smiling. Waving. Holding. And the impact, of what I hoped to be a little ray of sunshine on a dreary wintery day like today, drove by into a future I could not see. Did it brighten a day? Just one? Or maybe ten? Did it paint a smile, where a frown once claimed supremacy? Was it a topic of conversation for those who drove by on their cell phones? Did it do anything? Anything at all?</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Well. For me, the sign expressed what I was feeling. For me, the sign put into one word the thoughts that overwhelmed me after a morning filled to the brim with great conversation amongst friends and powerful words from a book. For me, the sign was my way to invite others into the gift that is today. For me, the sign was in a sense the very word it wore. I think the reason I rode my bike…held my sign…and smiled so big… was because I not only yearn and crave love but have felt loved so much lately that I desire to share! </div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-23035558126737500172010-11-22T10:18:00.000-08:002010-11-22T10:18:16.574-08:00<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Tree Home</span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My heart is full yet my body is weak following a weekend, that made up for the lack of sleep with profound questions and experiences, both true and real. I am sold out for the movement of love and cannot help but dance daily in its wake. Deep conversations have become currency while experience is held as dear as the depth of thought behind it. An overflow of lives abounding in love and joy is eagerly apparent. Smiles accompany serving just as answers accompany our prayers. The year of the Lord's favor is clearly upon this group of believers, doers and dreamers and thus my heart is full. Full of life. Full of thanks. Full. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Teens are more aware than I have ever seen. The questions being asked are as intelligent and profound as the answers being sought after. This is a byproduct of so many and so much that have made the roots of this tree of life grow. Leaders devotion to prayer, service and love transcends numbness and ignorance to preach a gospel of invitation, acceptance and rebirth; in a way for the blind to see it and the deaf to hear it. How important a kind smile or encouraging text is from a person who is your biggest fan and loves you for who you are. And to have a group devoted to each other as well as four thousand others, not only rocks the boat of status quo but rains light into a darkness dimmed by the words of the songs they sing and hardened by the products and truths they are sold. In a society bankrupt of the real, these innovators preserver through the awkward and the sacrifices to reveal truth of identification. Truth of reality. Truth of something bigger. True</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am because we are. I am blessed. I am joyful. I am thankful. I am passionate. I am in love. We are. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Community is built upon the bricks of people's lives and erected through the hammering of conversations and memories made. This home I have found myself in is richly placed on a base strong enough to withstand any storm of circumstance and crisis. By placing belief that relationships create the most suitable concrete for pouring and friendships yield planks both strong and sturdy, a home becomes solidified for a long life of tradition, interaction and life lived in full. Our. The word means more to me now than ever before. To be apart of something bigger, a movement on the tips of toes, a community submerged in the dance of life, an adventure worth telling stories about, a courting of truth…that is why I am here. Because love is here. Because truth is here. Because hope is here. Because God is here. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Home is the tree house that we have made. All are welcome. All are invited to play. </div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-7676225879696782892010-11-19T08:45:00.000-08:002010-11-19T08:45:18.982-08:00<b>Meetings...</b><br />
<br />
I am surrounded by meetings about meetings about money. Conversation splashes in the puddle of its depth while numbness wins the night and begins to recruit the day. Caffeine allows us to do nothing more and technology commands isolation in this quest.<br />
<br />
(being aware of my surroundings at a coffee shop)Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-87085656636594577882010-11-17T08:19:00.000-08:002010-12-06T20:02:04.317-08:00<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Mornings like this.</span></b></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"> The sun is lazily creeping into the cloudless sky on a morning plagued by the chills yet bounding in promise. Rays flirts with the courageous leaves still hanging and ignite belief that today is in fact a gift. Headphones block out needless distractions while supplementing my a.m. experience with the fitting soundtrack. Melodies are loaded with slow rhythms. Lyrics seem to hold more than syllables and commas. Natural acoustics go hand-in-hand with mornings like this. Listening moves to hearing as emotions are linked to the brisk awareness that fall is fading fast and winter's chill will soon overtake the resistance. Coffee has logged long hours to solidify its position of comfort, warmth and hug like status. So. On days like this. Their services are requested and reputation is not only solidify but becomes legend. The perfect blend of tradition, familiarity and taste. One sip reminds you that bitterness is as temporary as the passing of the twelfth month and hopelessness is a casual hint that we need each other to get through. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Wind I cannot see moves the slender trees, whose fall dieting and shedding, leave them open to the flowing force. A dance ensues. Gusts take the lead and branches follow suit. Swaying with perfect lines honed from their rehearsal of years and years. A love story unfolds. I watch and wonder why we are often to busy to realize that this is where it all began. Where love taught us to dream. Where laughter taught us to move. Where life began its pursuit. </div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The window through which I look is not entirely clean yet the little imperfections warrant truth. I peer through it as if to gaze into another world. I am inside yet aware that my soul craves to feel the story this window is telling. My soul longs to be apart of a love story. It yearns for partners to dance with and to be thrown into a story worth telling. This window separates me from the outside world but my mind easily connects what I know to be true about the suns waning presence and understands life is lived on the other side of the glass. Life is lived where wind blows, trees dance and songs are sung. </div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-82393319065392768922010-10-28T07:58:00.000-07:002010-10-28T07:58:15.630-07:00<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">DEEP ROOTS</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Lazy as a leaf whose adventure is not his own</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ambitious as a vine whose sight soar always up</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Simple as a yes whose answer does condone</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Optimistic as a kid who’s as full as his cup</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Today marks the start of it all</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Time passes yet moments linger with hope</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Hearts gather to honor their call</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dreams flirt, dance, cuddle and elope</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">You and me and her and him</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A group unruly related only in time</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Without the other the world fashions grim</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fight back and love claims a witty rhyme</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">One,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>two…three four seven</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gaggles, herds, schools, flocks</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Artistically adding to get eleven</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The movement of the grandfather as it tocks</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Green enough to grow with ease</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The wind carries feelings of home</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Dirt covered blue jeans from working bent knees</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Explorers unite to where their roots will sew.</div><!--EndFragment-->Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-67345517458774478042010-10-19T10:05:00.000-07:002010-10-19T10:05:12.903-07:00<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>Staring Contest</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>I got in a staring contest with a dog today</b>. I was walking. He was sitting. I say he only because I believe his name was Aaron.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And a better description than sitting would be staying put. I contemplate freedom only when I see someone that lacks it. Aaron lacks it. So I thought about being able to go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I like freedom.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aaron was probably thinking the opposite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Aaron were a human being he would be that old gray haired man with spectacles on the tip of his nose. He would only wear wool; on his upper body and his feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People would say things like “that Aaron can really tell a story” and “ Aaron is so smart.” But Aaron is a dog. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aaron has lost his bite. Or at least I think he has.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not bark at me. He did not run about disregarding the leash around his neck. Aaron stays put. “Has he lost his excitement for being alive or is he tired of being a dog?” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With a sigh, which I saw with my eyes rather than hearing with my ears, Aaron reached out to me. Aaron must have had one of those mornings. I have had a lot of those. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe one of those weeks. Or maybe one of those doggie years. Dogs think way more than we think they do. Dogs are way smarter than cats. But not as smart as horses. Horses are really smart. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I stare. He stares back. I keep walking. He stays put. I keep staring. He keeps staring back. I feel sorry for Aaron. He stares back. He has a gray goatee. I keep walking and staring. He stares back. Aaron is the best at this game. I am playing a game. I do not think Aaron is playing. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wander what Aaron is doing right now. Probably staying put. Probably just staring. Aaron is a dog. </div><!--EndFragment-->Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-81710906842946028582010-10-12T14:22:00.000-07:002010-10-12T14:23:41.283-07:00I pray.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I sit. I kneel. I wait here. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I listen. I pause. I listen more. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I see. I wonder. I make believe. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I repeat. I rehearse. I give thanks.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I ask. I wish. I hope for. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I indulge. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I ponder.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wrestle with. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am. I waver. I am not?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I read. I think. I draw thoughtlessly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I breathe. I smell. I sigh deeply. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I acknowledge. I slow. I reflect upon. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I swear. I praise. I live aware. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I pray. </div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-31820239516566558222010-10-07T10:45:00.000-07:002010-10-07T10:48:48.151-07:00<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Words of advice, “that is not a tanning bed”</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;">I am a Pop Tart. My name is Brody. And today I want to tell you a tale about time travel and truth filled omens.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;">So there I was ,shooting dice behind the Wheat Thin families’ house with my best friend Chad, he’s a Pop Tart as well a ginger, when a flash of light filled our Cupboard. The two dice added up to seven yet were not celebrated due to the lack of witnesses. Chad and I had already hopped Spaghetti’s waist high fence and were on full tilt toward the unknown before the die had a chance to stop their dance. Stopping only to wink at the coed cupcake twins, Rachel and Stacy, our pursuit was swift and determined. Nothing this exciting had happened since Brian’s dad, Stu, sang in the hit “Blue Box Blues” and brought honor to his now famous Macaroni family.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;">Chad was the first to spot the one we deemed responsible for the flash. Even from first glance, the man seemed oddly familiar to me. As we bravely moved in without hesitation, I was knocked off my feet in boredom when I realized it was just another Pop Tart like any other. As I dusted myself off, a crowd had gathered with copycat curiosity. Sighs of mundane awareness bellowed forth as all understood the excitement was for naught.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;">Minutes passed and Chad and I deep in disappointment became aware of two things. One, we were now alone with the kill joy and secondly that upon further inspection, the Pop Tart that created such a fuss looked exactly like my dad who left my mom and I when I was three. Chad, always at a loss for words, stared with a stereotypical glance of confusion. “I…I… who are you,” I mumbled. Stepping into the light out from beneath the shade of the top shelf I heard the words “my name is Pete. I am from the future.”</span></div><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>A different intro to a short story</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;">Hello. My name is Pete and I live in a refrigerator. I know what you all are thinking, wondering and dying to find out... the answer is no, actually rent is really cheap and yes, the light does go on by magic. But, back to the “what” and “why”. Like I just told you, my name is Pete. My mom calls me P. K.; you can call me Pete. And this is the story about how I became a real life hero, ended a civil war and met the apple of my dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;">Oh yeah... I'm an apple.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;">To set the scene please make an effort to throw out all preconceived notions of my kind and let the tale speak for itself. Background information needed for those not familiar with our history is as follows, so listen up. Just like your history is plagued by intolerance and prejudice for being different, so to have our eras been settling for below average morality and humility. The age old feud between reds and greens dates back way before your famous Johnny Appleseed discovered what we had known for centuries, apples cant fly. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #262626; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 13pt;"> </span></div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-87949562697490684012010-10-06T13:04:00.000-07:002010-10-06T13:04:53.817-07:00<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Lazy Daze</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">As I sit to write at my computer I must admit two things; first, is that my feet are cold but the feeling is unique to the season and so I resist an unnatural desire for wool protection, secondly the tie-dye T I sport is not my own design yet I have been known to claim its splendor as my handiwork. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I yearn today to paint a picture of an hour of my day that took place at the “lazy daze” coffee shop in Irvington, Indiana. My media will be mixed so I hope, with a full heart, that words, rhymes and imagery will produce justice of atmosphere and the regality of its spirit. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Outside, sit patrons whose inviting nods, lend part ownership and part comfort to the unknown. Beards are in season as well as conversations drowning amidst binding worn novels whose pages turn as quick, if not with more pace than the protagonist’s sword and the lyrist’s quill that dreamt them up. This is a haven where leaves fall and are given the proper attention, kids roam in exploration of the familiar, and the concept of name tags seems to be as foreign as it is unnecessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rust takes on a new role of chic and tables, whose legs have been unleveled in wake of coffee dates, eager pooches enslaved to the spot and an uncanny attention to people and not details, promote connections of shape. Circles to be exact. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Enter the rectangle, not square, door and your eyes go on vacation to a place that is the norm to so many of those who walk amongst us with 4 rather than 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Art can be described as a new answer to an old question. I am not sure what the question originally was but I know the answer was found somewhere between life and creativity. Couches hug the right angle to the left of the entrance and appear to be molting. The vision of the original hue has long since shed, denim and corduroy being the catalyst of change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To sit is to give into temptation. I indulged. The wrapper, in which this comfort is judged by, is perfect in its interpretation. Here, time moves at a different pace. Here, books have been finished and ideas different than most, have been thought. Here, I am. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And there Joanie is. Behind a booth, antiqued with flavor and history, stands a overtly jovial female toting what appears to be the softest shirt ever made and hair thrown together in her style not yours. A smile that plays with your optimism ensures that customer service is not clearly followed or defined. A quick attempt for my order and my wallet escapes without acknowledgement. Banter begins and the verbal jousting that ensued between my roomy and Joanie was beautifully simple. Man. Woman. Joke. Laughter. Smile. Smile. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Orders morph into friendly requests as interaction glues three hearts to the moment. Art tickles the properly aged walls with jokes of paint and lines of poetry. Machines are just that, machines; glistening is not what they do best. This statement of truth is appreciated and materialized into twelve ounces of blissful relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grab the flimsy yet effective foam like cup of liquid joy and hold off on reverting back to making the tough life choices that are now surrounding the shop. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">http://www.lazydazecoffeehouse.com/</div><!--EndFragment-->Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-88141328231322782082010-10-05T08:26:00.000-07:002010-10-05T08:26:15.024-07:00<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">The Fall of Summer</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">The fall chill blew threw only weeks before, which at the time merely hinted at what was to come. Clues battled not to be taken lightly. The slow ruthless killing of leaves guised in hues unfamiliar to the now trained eyes of the many, furthered the plan of winter’s wrath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, it was not always this way. Fall, many many years ago, acted as cohort to summer’s annual celebration. The relationship was beautiful in mutuality and simple in its existence. Freedom was felt year round by months smitten with warm hearts and days long. What was is no longer what is. If only in those days, being aware were to have accompanied being present; then and only then would things have turned out differently? Not as cold. Not as short. Not as dark.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sunshine, bright and strong enough to cure any ailment, presided as doctor over the fair lands ripe with laughter and songs of those in flight. Banks gathered hugs, smiles and dancing and stored then in unkempt huts full of holes through which rays and gusts of play ran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>January spent the majority of her hours flirting with the appropriately prideful October. Under pillows, referred to as clouds only by the glasses wearing, pocket protecting September, the two spun in circles with hands as free as July and feet as fleet and jovial as Decembers yearly birthday bash. Festivals were not special occasions but simply the way to interact with the day. All, it seemed was right and alive cloaked beneath entrenched optimism. Even August could be seen studying in the bright exposure with a book in one hand and a smirk hung on his mug. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seconds and minutes hid undetected, neglected by all but one. November, drenched in bitterness and envy from nothing in particular, slumped in the shade of a darkened fruit-bearing tree, counting down. Envy was not as much the chemical clouding his heart as neglect was. One of the youngest of the months, hand-me-downs and practical jokes followed him like a pesky fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One bad thought of cold quietly curled up in his depth awaiting and calling out for other similar ideas to join. Centuries of yellows and bright reds don’t have many dull blues. However when left to ferment, hatred needs only a few to twist truth into folly. The shade became an escape while each laugh poked at the already fated chord. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Had June only have noticed his brother’s face full of loneliness? Had October only have stopped his feasts? Or invited him? Had the twins, March and April, built a fort big enough for three? Had sexy February done anything other than admiring herself in the mirror? Had any of them reach out a hand?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is a story of hadn’t s however. Questions were not answered or even asked until it was too cold, too short, and too dark. </div><!--EndFragment-->Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-26011188040052919312010-10-04T20:40:00.000-07:002010-10-04T20:40:39.864-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Rings multiply. </span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Forests are to be.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b></div><b></b><br />
<b><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Community has been on my lips and in my heart for what seems to be an eternity and a day. This moment, I see it before me, as the depth I swim in and the openness I soar towards. The feeling or recognition of such a coveted possession, state and natural ideal, steals dreams, redirects footsteps and grows love rooted in conversations and laughter. Tribe, family, group and team dare to dip into the complex realities of true community, true life and true love. As fleeting as an echo and as firmly grounded as the oldest oak; hearts dripping of verbal cues ranging from “we” to “ours” fill with the hope of a garden filled with rose buds blanketed by raw sunshine. Warmth is only surpassed by depth, giving way to the potential of further desires of knowledge. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Living delights my hunger and those who surround me begin to acknowledge my thirst. A constant conversation is a mere ripple in the wake of a bigger splash. Images seen before distort into truth. Reflections of what “were” morph, beneath a force stronger than the wind and bigger than the skies. Make believe claims undeniable truth in a world where up is east and the broken can fixedly lead a nation towards redemption. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Water rains down and gathers; drops flirt and become one. A source of life wet with anticipation and moist in participation delivers energetic hope if those few would only draw courage to drink. A seed bolder than most yet invariably weak stumbles to a place where maps are wrong and weeds are overgrown. Parched from the imposed reality, the lost grasps for understanding; unconsciously choosing the mysterious glimmer whose texture is foreign. A sip. A drop. A drink. A gulp. A bath. A swim. More is never enough. An inexhaustible moment of growth, in the midst of confusion, averts focus from acreages of monotony towards an ever-lasting catalyst of unique provision and identity. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">(written in response to hanging out with friends at a coffee shop)</span></div></b>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-11790192401983066832010-10-04T20:38:00.000-07:002010-10-05T08:31:07.636-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Creative enough to be me and free enough to fail.</span></b></div><br />
I am back. I am not sure whether anyone is going to read this but I am going to write non-the-less.<br />
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My roommates and I are doing 21 day challenges to make ourselves better. 21 days is said to be the brink of habit forming and so we are undertaking 21 day journeys towards holistic being.<br />
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The following 21 days will be what they are.Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-12932645525219471162009-12-07T09:43:00.000-08:002009-12-07T09:43:24.407-08:00Hello America...Good Bye Tokyo and Bangkok<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIcp-CWz3VF-fPmHUK9SmZC7QQFkyyD2lAxkk9SguR8ho2kN_sWxBqyrCHbEPS3fiNMa-W4uEBQ23MGgDqX16zVZ0Ym_voP5UGJgl7nxAvAe7yVmEJayXrAoI0WhYb0osNPKjYFnmNcuv/s1600-h/IMG_2259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIcp-CWz3VF-fPmHUK9SmZC7QQFkyyD2lAxkk9SguR8ho2kN_sWxBqyrCHbEPS3fiNMa-W4uEBQ23MGgDqX16zVZ0Ym_voP5UGJgl7nxAvAe7yVmEJayXrAoI0WhYb0osNPKjYFnmNcuv/s320/IMG_2259.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Hello everyone. I am back in the good ole United States of America. Please stay tuned for stories of the adventures that happened during my three week backpacking excursion through Southeast Asia.Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-1259482797622228982009-11-08T23:07:00.000-08:002009-11-10T00:06:01.632-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSXrIq8i8ieX1ICSlwgGwYYpYISLyl6ivjxpSohQx2EUlE0LVA1OVuxbo6jyhFzSJpCvC68Oqmcou4tEfVBNWI7r_kVNDsaufOm-3snwbVi3Q7E3yzq4TnvSxnGhX2_64y-oMXr4uwqOe/s1600-h/PB010306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSXrIq8i8ieX1ICSlwgGwYYpYISLyl6ivjxpSohQx2EUlE0LVA1OVuxbo6jyhFzSJpCvC68Oqmcou4tEfVBNWI7r_kVNDsaufOm-3snwbVi3Q7E3yzq4TnvSxnGhX2_64y-oMXr4uwqOe/s320/PB010306.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-size: x-large;">Tokyo</span> is Japan's biggest city, home to over 12 million people, and recently claimed the title of most expensive city to live in. The big city is one of the few fashion capitals of the world, which is overly prevalent to locals and tourists alike, as they travel around to its many shops and boutiques. The pace of the city is underestimated at a million miles a minute and the amount of people crammed into one city is at times overwhelming and unreal. Tokyo is also home to "so much plastic shiny shit" as Betsy's mom eloquently exclaimed as we ventured through the infamous electronics block which houses anything from spare parts for your Easy Bake Oven to arcades with wall to wall claw games.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXnd_G68Cxc11f3s8j_7qmltUXdxxGt2gWO2nIJcv51hPp6aQaiDXaIYwHinnQ7z1vHPEOP9ES949pIERqwb83a79pn16sVBobfgI43Un6VdNfMetCiMC5_LCRnBmlTbxgihofHKfThmmE/s1600-h/PA310219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXnd_G68Cxc11f3s8j_7qmltUXdxxGt2gWO2nIJcv51hPp6aQaiDXaIYwHinnQ7z1vHPEOP9ES949pIERqwb83a79pn16sVBobfgI43Un6VdNfMetCiMC5_LCRnBmlTbxgihofHKfThmmE/s320/PA310219.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></span>My first taste of Tokyo was at Shinjuku Station which is the busiest subway station in the world. Everyday over 4 million people pass through the station and Betsy and I quickly became simply another statistic. Navigating the subway labyrinth is a unique skill in which luck, knowledge and insanity go hand in hand. The <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPQ25womFq4">subway</a> is at Tokyo's core, running miles upon miles beneath the concrete metropolis and became a intellectual game to Bets and I. (Betsy was obviously the brains of our operation.)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvS20sA2iWEA6AU7W0Fz3hl0pQj3MIjsWu1S3dcFaAufvcI9Bkl8-iWxMuU4_CX6C0rzeJ6SZOxmaAZPrKO5jhfAMdaawNmFwz4DdGWv99Kd-4hd5SwkfZ3wNlFiiry5wRj0yjbSloSmZf/s1600-h/PB010373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvS20sA2iWEA6AU7W0Fz3hl0pQj3MIjsWu1S3dcFaAufvcI9Bkl8-iWxMuU4_CX6C0rzeJ6SZOxmaAZPrKO5jhfAMdaawNmFwz4DdGWv99Kd-4hd5SwkfZ3wNlFiiry5wRj0yjbSloSmZf/s320/PB010373.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Our time in Tokyo seems now to be a blur. We were in the city limits for less than 48 hours yet saw all there is to see (minus the famous fish market which is scheduled for our return visit). We were fortune enough to get to go on a paid bus tour of Tokyo and thus we were able to take in more than the average tourist. Our first stop was <a href="http://robertg69.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/tokyo_tower_20060211.jpg">Tokyo Tower</a> which is identical to the Eiffel Tower except orange and ten meters taller. Following that fantastic view, the tour took us to a huge Shinto Shrine which was an amazing tribute to creation and mother nature and then to the Imperial Palace where Japan's emperor and empress live by themselves. I should note that the palace is twice the size of the White House estate and the emperor holds no political power whatsoever. The rest of the tour included; a pearl demonstration, a Buddhist Temple and the electronics block. While in Tokyo, we also got to see Mt. Fuji from the Tokyo Government Building's 45th floor, a national park's beauty of the fall and the famous Ginza shopping district (which closes its streets on the weekend to make it the "shoppers' paradise!")<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPudHsD0fgz7mcV0pEZp4nRjwopVDs-QF7bq1nUPqImKbO40sPM0z2kcAiCOplkUdYWDdsUx7AOsMKJWENNvN8UiWh7r8mV0gBMr1o7XQEdeFLOSSokf9t2cmTZ6L5p43XK5-1Dg3yShe/s1600-h/PA310243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPudHsD0fgz7mcV0pEZp4nRjwopVDs-QF7bq1nUPqImKbO40sPM0z2kcAiCOplkUdYWDdsUx7AOsMKJWENNvN8UiWh7r8mV0gBMr1o7XQEdeFLOSSokf9t2cmTZ6L5p43XK5-1Dg3yShe/s320/PA310243.JPG" width="320" /></a>Tokyo was an experience and a half. Constant movement is the best way to describe its flow and feeling. Upon returning home to the small mountain village of Norikura, I felt oddly at peace in such a remote location yet missed the city's fervor and spirit. I would venture to say that one would go crazy living so close to so many people and moving at the rate at which they move but 12 million people do it everyday... my hat is off to them. <b>See ya, wouldn't want to be ya</b>.<br />
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</div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-75757025843220762362009-11-06T20:31:00.000-08:002009-11-06T20:31:59.435-08:00Camp Program<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFQwI7v5IM5aSNyo9DH5qfp8Bu3xumPVepGhzwMuxWwa3xOMKv0fw3kdpIVFjshzbcPDlMjkz93wyVkkulkND3tndcPp8AC06jyYp9nCRTz_Z9lQS-Ag5NKqPbpmhpcJa5hHL9Xrz7Konn/s1600-h/PA300145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFQwI7v5IM5aSNyo9DH5qfp8Bu3xumPVepGhzwMuxWwa3xOMKv0fw3kdpIVFjshzbcPDlMjkz93wyVkkulkND3tndcPp8AC06jyYp9nCRTz_Z9lQS-Ag5NKqPbpmhpcJa5hHL9Xrz7Konn/s400/PA300145.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Northstar is an adventure lodge that attracts many different kinds of people and groups and for the past month campers have been mainly high schoolers from around Japan. Schools come to Northstar for a unique experience of studying English in the midst of an "extreme" environment. The environment we create is a unique one to Japan and brings about an "aloha" community as service is blended with outdoor activities and fun.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhidFv0KDp_rmmSX5LJRGpNA1FAEYwv2hKjy_TnZDOwlNlLrN-NAOCwjCKGb1bP9kpFVFgNWp5HvyH-qoxmMmZk4JhAfgYOO7txiO8UkzyzkJSqLfHIVlScVYmDBQoOQz5eYyCHO5aXHdgz/s1600-h/PA180143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhidFv0KDp_rmmSX5LJRGpNA1FAEYwv2hKjy_TnZDOwlNlLrN-NAOCwjCKGb1bP9kpFVFgNWp5HvyH-qoxmMmZk4JhAfgYOO7txiO8UkzyzkJSqLfHIVlScVYmDBQoOQz5eYyCHO5aXHdgz/s320/PA180143.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Campers arrive by bus and after an energetic greeting by our staff, initiative games commence. Games include; four point tag, tank commander, mine field, human knot and lots lots more. These games are aimed at teaching lessons of communication and teamwork while simply having a blast with friends. Following initiative games, Kayo (our resident chef) whips up a delicious meal with international flavor. At night, campers enjoy jumping on the trampoline in the main lobby, playing ping-pong or fuse-ball in our game room or catching the latest snowboarding movie in the lounge. Kids usually play into the night and their voices can be heard long after the call for mandatory lights out at 10:30pm.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxPCtmKdOugErYvgA3_GEX6za-07t1oDRPD286gTzlhsPYJhubaabPcBnwAIvZB_dyUehkt-P20H82MDot7oiVKpEpPW08LPveVaSDd8Go1cdvrQx0AiZC85flfWD5LTsoLdnL3rKkW2N/s1600-h/P9290038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjxPCtmKdOugErYvgA3_GEX6za-07t1oDRPD286gTzlhsPYJhubaabPcBnwAIvZB_dyUehkt-P20H82MDot7oiVKpEpPW08LPveVaSDd8Go1cdvrQx0AiZC85flfWD5LTsoLdnL3rKkW2N/s320/P9290038.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>The following day the schedule is as follows; breakfast, adventure activity, lunch, adventure activity, free time, dinner and then s'mores and bonfire. It is a full day of fun. Adventure activities are led by the Northstar staff and include mountain biking, river hiking, hiking, rock climbing, tyrollean traversing and rogaining. Kids choose two activities and then are lead on the three hour adventure by us (adventure staff).<br />
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Days are long and filled with nonstop movement of serving, playing, cleaning, instructing and hanging out with our newly made friends. Days are 12 hours plus but the reward is great and worth it. The reward is smiling faces as kids leave and exclamations of having had the best couple of days of their lives are heard. God is moving here at Northstar and is at the heart of everything we do. The amazing attitudes and service shown in the face of "lost in translation" type situations and endless service are all testaments to God at work in all the N* Staff's lives.Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-62198068982537398032009-10-09T02:10:00.000-07:002009-10-09T04:49:09.291-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />
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<span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga84JT3lL1idxiZMbBTPqGnOIP3d29HgrCTJ_aD_JiLKN5Owg72ihsXq32wPYxuNg5N1CQQJz1Iz8vZm1_3p0hzaKRiS_xarmSBdCuo7Dy74l5M7v7BAxX5lUD5vIHJq8vt712J8XBhGnS/s1600-h/MtFuji02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga84JT3lL1idxiZMbBTPqGnOIP3d29HgrCTJ_aD_JiLKN5Owg72ihsXq32wPYxuNg5N1CQQJz1Iz8vZm1_3p0hzaKRiS_xarmSBdCuo7Dy74l5M7v7BAxX5lUD5vIHJq8vt712J8XBhGnS/s320/MtFuji02.jpg" /></a>A couple days ago, Betsy (Northstar Staff) and I took off on a trek that would lead us onto the busy and sometimes backwards roads of Japan and eventually to the top of one of the most spectacular peaks in the world, Mount Fuji. Mount Fuji stands 12,388 feet in elevation and is not only an active volcano but also Japan's most recognizable symbol. Fuji is known for its symmetrical cone and is "the" place to see while visiting Japan.<br />
So with the day off, the sun shining and the sounds of Donavon and Bob Marley in the air, the two of us hopped in the little Pajero (a tiny jeep like thing that the Japanese refer to as a car) and the journey began. With the unknown before us, our minds danced in the realm of possibility and promise as our cares of work turned into reservations to play. The roadie did not take long; a little over three hours after leaving Northstar, we got our first glance at the monstrous peak known as Fuji while still many miles away. Excitement reigned supreme and carry us carefree to the base where we slept in a parking lot for the night. <br />
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</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKguFKIPE-WxHNN5fvLYD5wr-wD07N9YOLjD2J6Sg1GjOeVN3dy6Uyf2jEASno8Rp-5QCg7RWZOdLzsyrBTVN1_4cm1Jy_8gc8k7CkF4f36ld2vUblVFFQHBpswcadA9bcm6NFYx37d27/s1600-h/PA030153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKguFKIPE-WxHNN5fvLYD5wr-wD07N9YOLjD2J6Sg1GjOeVN3dy6Uyf2jEASno8Rp-5QCg7RWZOdLzsyrBTVN1_4cm1Jy_8gc8k7CkF4f36ld2vUblVFFQHBpswcadA9bcm6NFYx37d27/s320/PA030153.JPG" /></a><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An alpine start of four a.m. was appropriated, as hopes dreamed were now within our grasps. Hitting the first trail head with only the glow of our head lamps to lead the way, our strategy was simple . . . just keep going up. And up we went. Up and up and up. Fuji proved to be one of the most demanding hikes I have ever been on. However with every step up in elevation, the view and perspective on the world below began to change. A change almost indescribable. A change that left the norm behind and rose above the earth and the clouds into a whole other world. A world where clouds swayed at your feet and the eye could only see beauty in the form of silhouetted peaks piercing the clouds that were now your carpet. A world where vision was not restricted by buildings or bends but rather only by the limit of your God given ability. Lakes seen from above took on a majestic ancient feel as the changing of the colors was defined clearly in the new oranges, reds and yellows that blanketed Fuji's base.</span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5yxupQtc75LhVQGpqGyRjozrovYxTshui_7h0CaMzn_xWAAHRKMGqh0FhGNYvZWSnlr9hkyWrlKExqS8v0qd52incECWt650qOnQR1fs-cPmKUJIGDsgQVt3gIwy0iJpjIKOCkJ9jj4hE/s1600-h/PA030111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5yxupQtc75LhVQGpqGyRjozrovYxTshui_7h0CaMzn_xWAAHRKMGqh0FhGNYvZWSnlr9hkyWrlKExqS8v0qd52incECWt650qOnQR1fs-cPmKUJIGDsgQVt3gIwy0iJpjIKOCkJ9jj4hE/s320/PA030111.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div><span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The top of Fuji was awe-inspiring while demanding respect. The elements intensified as Mother Nature seemed disturbed by our conquering of the constant uphill opponent. Winds whipped, rains rages and feeling numbed causing the celebration of discovery and success to be short lived and coldly appreciated. Looking back now, Mount Fuji is a memory I will take with me forever. The antics, the hardships and the friendships experienced from this adventure were worth every step up and every step down. </span></span><br />
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</div></div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-25952057295197307802009-10-02T04:30:00.000-07:002009-10-02T04:32:52.510-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Breaking of the Chopsticks..."hello peer pressure!"</b></span><br />
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<object height="260" width="428"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/32oHMN-9p6E&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/32oHMN-9p6E&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="428" height="260"></embed></object><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> Seiya "Big Devastation" Harada and Mark "Little Spoon" Spiegel "Dont Wanna Miss A Thing"</b></span><br />
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<object height="260" width="428"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ESge9tNTEFQ&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ESge9tNTEFQ&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="428" height="260"></embed></object>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-74798984844313562982009-09-30T05:18:00.000-07:002009-10-01T05:49:36.324-07:00Mushroom P.A.R.T.Y.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPzp92U_mh8VzggeIheETBDSryI6yt1a536SZTpPV078yLqnSQGNtnoEIIPrdyaYLyvH2l97C8DY2RJXzVKs6xTWTEqKzVa6NeK-fPJUsKVheJ3JFXsKbxAqHuIpz7eoBESgCZGR8e59x/s1600-h/P9270066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPzp92U_mh8VzggeIheETBDSryI6yt1a536SZTpPV078yLqnSQGNtnoEIIPrdyaYLyvH2l97C8DY2RJXzVKs6xTWTEqKzVa6NeK-fPJUsKVheJ3JFXsKbxAqHuIpz7eoBESgCZGR8e59x/s200/P9270066.JPG" /></a>Yesterday the seasonal staff and I went on a very important mission that was both culturally educational and critically important to the night's festivities. We went hunting for mushrooms! Scouring the Norikura mountainsides with only a plastic bag, our will for adventure and resident mountain man and mushroom sensai, Reicho-san. Reicho-san greeted us with the ever-so popular head bow but there was something different about this one. If there is love at first site, then maybe there is BFF at first bow, (foreshadowing) and after Reicho-san's first glance at my skinny jeans he exclaimed in a rather frantically humorous tone "your underwear is going to get wet!" This was translated of course because Reicho-san, being Japan's Father Time as well as Father Nature, does not speak any English except for ok (said alongside the appropriate sign language learned from Buckwheat of the Little Rascals)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jebqPUN0on4nqb1_YvdHEh9WnTzOnKzDtxXaBUdwkrN2BtaxtVCNOdNHBGGbN0EbIazReuH-Sy8q_Mlh6Fckzn6d8Aj9uKNcUGVTKNjUAu2rkCDDB_OKkp6G9XcvfnNeBjisGZ8ycrax/s1600-h/P9270072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jebqPUN0on4nqb1_YvdHEh9WnTzOnKzDtxXaBUdwkrN2BtaxtVCNOdNHBGGbN0EbIazReuH-Sy8q_Mlh6Fckzn6d8Aj9uKNcUGVTKNjUAu2rkCDDB_OKkp6G9XcvfnNeBjisGZ8ycrax/s200/P9270072.JPG" /></a>So off we went; following this relative stranger into the wild with the hope of mushroom magic outweighing the fear of wet under-roos. If slow and steady wins the race, then Reicho-san must be undefeated. Our patience did payoff however as mushrooms the size of rabbit heads began to fill the plastic bags like Tad Hamilton at Piggly Wiggly. The search went as follows;<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> discovery of a mushroom...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">a question like "Reicho-san what about this one?...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">the response sounding an awful a alot like "damn it" followed by a disgusted head shake...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">or an enthusiastic "ok"...<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This went on for three glorious hours. In the rain.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgc_u_ufT1BLnwSuor2NzK8eCE1nNINzK_RAKed7JUzFiJzOttju5c4KaC0S4eu8GyO9-xd9Ieqd-3q_u83kd7X0W19YmcSz3i2nPo3yme0oYxoB_EHlMwRXLyISlval8pJgV-K2wMRtlc/s1600-h/P9270079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgc_u_ufT1BLnwSuor2NzK8eCE1nNINzK_RAKed7JUzFiJzOttju5c4KaC0S4eu8GyO9-xd9Ieqd-3q_u83kd7X0W19YmcSz3i2nPo3yme0oYxoB_EHlMwRXLyISlval8pJgV-K2wMRtlc/s200/P9270079.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Fast forward two hours and move locations from the mountains to Reicho-san's lodge and the party really begins. A traditional Japanese dinner, including mountainous veggies, saki, donut sticks, peanuts, salad, dried fish, mushroom stew, beer, karaoke remote, wine, oranges, hot dogs, apples, asian pears and grapes of all colors, all displayed on a table no taller than a wiener dog, was prepared. The table is strategically and brilliantly designed to decrease comfort and increase groin soreness. All of Northstar staff gathered for the seasonal feast and after a blessing, the revelry and singing began.<br />
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It started with the invention of karaoke in 1910 by Alexander Karok in Belgium and ended last night with the local strays howling along as many American classics were covered, butchered and screeched. In the lot were Elton John's "Tiny Dancer", Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise" and the always infamous "Sexy Back" by JT. Duets Seiya Harada and yours truly stole the show and hearts with a Japanese'ie rendition of Armageddon's love song "I Dont Wanna Miss a Thing!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1J0TSDBe239OBB-KmUZqGDmUd3qRx5jEImlKvQhQRdE-1FVswfC29pmJ6Qs1qjVq98OY4PfS6pe1YEnOysrKuCZ_Q83iZEo9orawODZbJDwcmcL-DbUbpBatnWmVTB8Sr4YmRhKc4q-Hl/s1600-h/P9270097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1J0TSDBe239OBB-KmUZqGDmUd3qRx5jEImlKvQhQRdE-1FVswfC29pmJ6Qs1qjVq98OY4PfS6pe1YEnOysrKuCZ_Q83iZEo9orawODZbJDwcmcL-DbUbpBatnWmVTB8Sr4YmRhKc4q-Hl/s200/P9270097.JPG" /></a>As the staff headed home for much needed slumber, Pappa Reicho and I bonded as "gang bei" (aka cheers) was turned to 11 and on repeat; lost in translation took on a whole new meaning. His Japanese and my English were no match for true friendship. After more drinks, more off key singing and more antics, Reicho-san called me a bear, stole my beanie and danced with me to "Sexy Back" sealing our fate as "brothers from different mothers."<br />
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Confusion only happened when I tried to leave and he insistently said "NO" along with 150 other Japanese words. David Bowie's labyrinth of languages was made straight after Michai, fellow staff, informed me that Reicho-san was inviting me over to stay the night. We have video of this whole interaction. It is an emphatic yelling of "slumber party" followed by an overly friendly embrace of a village elder, who has probably forgotten more about life than I will ever know, and a American mountain man who allegedly looks like a bear.<br />
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Here's to new experiences, new traditions and new friendships... Gang Bei!!!Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-67621725849286017952009-09-23T05:09:00.000-07:002009-09-23T05:13:23.781-07:00LIVESTRONG CENTURY CHALLENGE<object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/feXOVkDp-Rw&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/feXOVkDp-Rw&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs0MKLJR9GCpCNvt6qUeRRCV_MF0WGK-mkL-EE_duwAlcXsNYuh_8IES32AkMpI64fUgDC5zS_wcAk3yBb3JDbUYNeI6ba1ETG_o8ko4tQ9Vw23wEbqc2h5-zLAGdpfKAD996emMug52b/s1600-h/P9200002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs0MKLJR9GCpCNvt6qUeRRCV_MF0WGK-mkL-EE_duwAlcXsNYuh_8IES32AkMpI64fUgDC5zS_wcAk3yBb3JDbUYNeI6ba1ETG_o8ko4tQ9Vw23wEbqc2h5-zLAGdpfKAD996emMug52b/s200/P9200002.JPG" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">LIVESTRONG CENTURY</span></b><br />
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Monday, Northstar was home to our first annual Livestrong Century Challenge. The race covered 100 miles and had four major climbs. The weather changed as often as the elevation, but at the end of the day only 10 riders persevered through the elements and the miles to claim victory. Stokley, an American rider from a military base, was overheard saying "this was the hardest damn race I have ever ridden. Those climbs were epic. And this is what I do."<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71LlIeF5_-0xr_O858cvsCKkZZo_UtD_vKbKFQ1_vJHL2xfwzwWpvSJB0xrHlOGW7jssXLOztoKF2illHfdmNaCoFnybqQAQyPIs4uLSqD_IIDrSrnnjtru5UwgD0PWzeoPF-wda86kqk/s1600-h/P9200004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71LlIeF5_-0xr_O858cvsCKkZZo_UtD_vKbKFQ1_vJHL2xfwzwWpvSJB0xrHlOGW7jssXLOztoKF2illHfdmNaCoFnybqQAQyPIs4uLSqD_IIDrSrnnjtru5UwgD0PWzeoPF-wda86kqk/s200/P9200004.JPG" /></a> The race/ride is meant for more than just completing 100 miles; it is a way to lend support for the fight against cancer. On the eve of the event, Dan Junker (head boss at Northstar) gave a tear jerking speech about his victory over cancer and the effects it has had on not only his life but those nearest and dearest his heart. He explained a country afraid or embarrassed to speak up if cancer was present and further stated that the Livestrong challenge was about the fight. "Because if you fight for something, you usually think you have a chance to win. And in that case there is hope. Hope is what we all need. I want to <b>LIVE</b> and I want to <b>HOPE</b>." Dan's story is one of inspiration and hope. His words brought memories of loved ones with cancer, who are still fighting or have passed away, to the forefront of our hearts; prayers, thoughts and tears were shared by all. Cancer is being fought and I am stoked to be apart of the movement.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">We believe that unity is strength, knowledge is power and attitude is everything</span></b><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">. (LAF)</span></b><br />
</div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-34562031046046783522009-09-19T05:01:00.000-07:002009-09-19T06:00:15.083-07:00Just another week in Japan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKBeOpeXXTEaKxVeKcRR9VBGUZh55Gekw3ddzKJ93BpYB2es5DIUaZ31_pFI9gBNulXbpZFWpf-JvDTHu0f014hZP0v_Ug0aG9AskaZEliaYuYeu-glN6igjJ0g0W5N3dM5ap5_tI-LHu/s1600-h/P9140025.JPG"></a><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HQ_YVnnav3w&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HQ_YVnnav3w&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*The star of this movie, the little stud with glasses, has a close up at 3:10...I would encourage you to tune in to see poetry in motion.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">My Week</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"> Undokai (aka sports day) is a Japanese tradition that is celebrated all throughout the country. Towns, cities, villages gather to support the youth as they "compete" and show off their many talents. Compete is quote unquote because as Dan put it, "Japanese love ties. Because then no one has to fall on their sword." (or something along those line) I laughed and said Americans hate ties because it is like kissing your sister. Then we all laughed an equal amount :) Events of the Undokai were as follows: relay race with too many parts to it to explain, sprint medley, whole city tug-o-war, traditional Japanese dances and cheers and the crowd favorite... MUSICAL CHAIRS. This year was a true cinderella story as a third grader took out the overhyped and highly qualified (last years champ) Mayor of Norikura. However, in Japan no one is a loser. Participants received prizing for simply showing up. The Mayor went home with saran wrap and a chink in his armor.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKBeOpeXXTEaKxVeKcRR9VBGUZh55Gekw3ddzKJ93BpYB2es5DIUaZ31_pFI9gBNulXbpZFWpf-JvDTHu0f014hZP0v_Ug0aG9AskaZEliaYuYeu-glN6igjJ0g0W5N3dM5ap5_tI-LHu/s200/P9140025.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383159726367812018" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The rest of the week paled in comparison but was not too bad. My days were filled with running in the mornings, climbing in the mid mornings, mountain biking and hiking in the afternoons and adventure movie watching at night. So basically I played outside the large majority of the week. When I was not playing/working outside, Seiya and I performed maintenance on the snowboard park elements and cleaned toilets. I LOVE WHAT I DO.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzGS_aA6HX4nEnCIEbd_JQbz9OMSPFu02-TjHx58sphCzR5nI2YvtWa3NH8HOepgT0Rvweg5jvaCa4DBhyl5hFNIHNZ_hYdgZRgTWsUWud5KJt5Js51j11IDBm7m4tci-EYUI0cqrufL2/s200/P9140059.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383159072630868018" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><div style="text-align: left;">Other highlights from the week...</div><div style="text-align: left;">*hiking to a stinking sweet waterfall</div><div style="text-align: left;">*local bouldering night at northstar</div><div style="text-align: left;">*dance parties</div><div style="text-align: left;">*teaching/playing ninja</div><div style="text-align: left;">*sharing my life story</div><div style="text-align: left;">*learning to drive a manual on the wrong side</div><div style="text-align: left;">*Seiya singing Taylor Swift daily</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Big ups to the Mules and Jennies holdin it down in the 'Burg with a little Japanese steeze!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><img src="webkit-fake-url://2D913EF0-7C71-475D-B237-5C8BFB3ECF59/photo.php.jpg" alt="photo.php.jpg" /></p><p></p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-83199239253920066482009-09-16T16:43:00.000-07:002009-09-16T16:48:08.430-07:00Northstar Promo.<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pRe9E1TIVNE&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pRe9E1TIVNE&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-67445901980747290072009-09-14T05:22:00.000-07:002009-09-14T06:13:23.015-07:00Motsumoto and back.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUhj5ulwZHljvy7MffHYKxyz-xkQ5jJ25XwerblLl4phvfPO7r9i3XPMWuBDBygoJq8jb9RfZm23GrjCxxJJ1U5_ZHCUm5mLKCZkxm5zdn7UWqIdpvLWTDydJjUFxHCGemwaA9FCdCODy/s1600-h/P9120030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUhj5ulwZHljvy7MffHYKxyz-xkQ5jJ25XwerblLl4phvfPO7r9i3XPMWuBDBygoJq8jb9RfZm23GrjCxxJJ1U5_ZHCUm5mLKCZkxm5zdn7UWqIdpvLWTDydJjUFxHCGemwaA9FCdCODy/s320/P9120030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Britney Spears' <i>Oops I did it Again</i> was blaring in the van, we adoringly refer to as new white, as the following exchange took place between me and Michai. "Do you know the muffin man?" asked yours truly. Michai responded with utter confusion "the muffin man?" As I giggled I continued the nursery tale with much anticipation. "Yes, the muffin man." "Who or what is this muffin man?" "He lives on Drury Lane." With a look of confusion that only comes at the aid of cultural and language barriers, Michai summoned the rest of the bus for help; "do you guys know this muffin man? What is a muffin man? Is it a Mr. Muffin Man?" Ha Ha Ha. We spent the next ten minutes quoting Shrek and trying to bridge the gap of confusion. The bridge was built impressively but was later turn done after I brought up the fatal infectious disease of "cooties!"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORhEah1WmT_3j4DgVMLNk_PxhkH8C8teRPlCGxViS1SzPn0v8hkF0bdtNzsUwKXdprMX438GjKiRAJFgnUCfCnFmgk2QQru1s2IyURrZoexmEsHOewJoHIOJBENbogdZK7Q9EEjyaW0pO/s1600-h/P9120034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORhEah1WmT_3j4DgVMLNk_PxhkH8C8teRPlCGxViS1SzPn0v8hkF0bdtNzsUwKXdprMX438GjKiRAJFgnUCfCnFmgk2QQru1s2IyURrZoexmEsHOewJoHIOJBENbogdZK7Q9EEjyaW0pO/s200/P9120034.JPG" /></a></div>The trip from Norikura (which is where Northstar is) to Motsumoto took about an hour. Along the way, Kanya, Taylor Swift and 3OH!3 rattled the speakers as we passed rice fields and the breathtaking Japan Alps. Out the other window we could see monkeys (saru) taking a recess, turning cable lines and telephones into a jungle gym of amusement. Being American, I freaked and did a little monkey dance but was made fun of by my new Japanese friends who calmly said "its just a monkey. They are everywhere." It is my prayer that those words never come out of my mouth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZh_e8eveliZoI28wCizhJlKHBzEOV045cZU_HSXLOtUeaLU7DWk8KghM5DJfye0l9olatCbKz1dcccri3tmNMluqQTEXNu3yLbMVErE-2qrN-_QmzE7HrpoEWdsOb3MqxYKsObq6wxXe/s1600-h/P9120046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZh_e8eveliZoI28wCizhJlKHBzEOV045cZU_HSXLOtUeaLU7DWk8KghM5DJfye0l9olatCbKz1dcccri3tmNMluqQTEXNu3yLbMVErE-2qrN-_QmzE7HrpoEWdsOb3MqxYKsObq6wxXe/s200/P9120046.JPG" /></a>Motsumoto, a city of 500,000, was shiny and distracting. Cars, people and advertisements competed for my attention. The first victor was a sushi place that may be THE GREATEST SUSHI in the world. The atmosphere was super fun with "hello kitty" apparel as the star. Woot Woot. Here comes the sushi train. Plates floated by us with relative ease while we drooled over the saucers of unknown tastes and origins. Shrimp, Eel, Squid, Sea Shell, Tuna, Clam added to rice, sprinkled with heaven and wrapped in love, were not only on the menu but available in large quantities. Seiya, Brad and I took full advantage of this advantageous fact. Digestion was a cinch. We allowed the full body massage chairs to do most of the work with "rodeo boy III" finishing the job.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsV0mJ5c0TuHJDx7JASzSne5FZt7bKOCYy9eyc-TEO24irnlxUzfZPwgbX_-PmBAqhzvXBoo4jRiOtA-coiIE4nuKTk3IFQHTNTrhJvpyMZrKe9E_3p2mvK6Ar8vX6gXpOiEm81lvLuv6/s1600-h/P9120049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsV0mJ5c0TuHJDx7JASzSne5FZt7bKOCYy9eyc-TEO24irnlxUzfZPwgbX_-PmBAqhzvXBoo4jRiOtA-coiIE4nuKTk3IFQHTNTrhJvpyMZrKe9E_3p2mvK6Ar8vX6gXpOiEm81lvLuv6/s200/P9120049.JPG" /></a></div>**It should be noted that Rodeo Boy is a machine that simulates riding a bull and is efficient at attacking those pesky love handles. It also makes for a good laugh. <br />
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Grocery store for milk tea, Starbucks (not me) for coffee and then off to do as the natives do. Procuring local shops that were home to hilarious hats and grammatically incorrect t-shirts. We capped the day off with a stunt walking sesh' in front of the eight story clothing mall (Seiya said the mall was just like Target. Seiya is a liar.) The rail sesh' consisted of Brad, Seiya and myself balancing and tricking on a bendy rail about twenty feet long. The joy was cut short as an even shorter bowing machine, known as the mall cop, confidently crept out to do his job of policing the fun. I then asked Seiya if he smelled bacon but the humor was lost to Japanese ears.<br />
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Please check in for video highlights in the near future!<br />
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* Shout out to my little bro Scotty and all the other mules who are solidifying the base.Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-13526208149076068092009-09-11T07:53:00.000-07:002009-09-11T07:53:32.172-07:00Piece Signs and Head Bows.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdz0uyz85GDttFx38i7CnkyHTTtp41nYu6w9FVKhn4B23rc54qa0jrxxVX_X4r2zFeVYGZ3rA61JsoMwtSrge7fSn2F52v34fNsYaqTaYqEUa6Lkba-LOzmCD4WNqnDSsPogVC7h8rohYW/s1600-h/P9080003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdz0uyz85GDttFx38i7CnkyHTTtp41nYu6w9FVKhn4B23rc54qa0jrxxVX_X4r2zFeVYGZ3rA61JsoMwtSrge7fSn2F52v34fNsYaqTaYqEUa6Lkba-LOzmCD4WNqnDSsPogVC7h8rohYW/s320/P9080003.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>To survive in a foreign land it is wise to quickly learn a few catch phrases, movements and to be overall vigilant, doing as the natives do. . .<br />
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Here are my notes on research I have been gathering in Japan for the last five days. . .<br />
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1. Though counterintuitive, one peace is never enough. If you ever find yourself in a quick fix, (aka a picture of you as ready to be taken) please remember the old adages "one is the loneliest number that you'll ever see" and "say cheese". If you can remember these you will fit in quickly. Two fingers are better than one. More peace is better than one peace. And never forget to ham it up with a cheese-ball grin.<br />
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2. When spoken to, repetition and redundancy are your friend. When spoken to, repetition and redundancy are your friend. Take this to the bank. If a Japanese person speaks to you, bow and say hai (pronounced hi). Thats it. Please do not be fooled by the overwhelming speed and strength of their words. Stick to what works. Head bows and "hai's!"<br />
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3. Please refer to suggestions one and two.<br />
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I will continue to rigorously dissect the Japanese culture and language in an attempt to add a fourth step for you all but until then please stick to the basics.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZryxoOWeKTjvfpDxsSFmQ6tJTDFuddf-EQF0rkC_Z7S7iLPxf8JHhbJ9sP9bNbm8X7mvqfNW0RRyva_drdy7mBil0TmUl7mu8DX0HqbR95FmzSa0CMJ46-eVIOsmISvC3VTnpDpRFwoRW/s1600-h/P9080015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZryxoOWeKTjvfpDxsSFmQ6tJTDFuddf-EQF0rkC_Z7S7iLPxf8JHhbJ9sP9bNbm8X7mvqfNW0RRyva_drdy7mBil0TmUl7mu8DX0HqbR95FmzSa0CMJ46-eVIOsmISvC3VTnpDpRFwoRW/s320/P9080015.JPG" /></a></div><i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">* i have attached two photos to further prove my point. which one looks more japanese? Betsy was close but forget to give peace a chance.</span><br />
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<i>**while driving in Japan, there is no left or right turn on red. Just stop. It makes for a less interesting story but is much safer in the long run.</i>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6259920223145284950.post-15963887343281986482009-09-09T06:39:00.000-07:002009-09-09T07:00:20.735-07:00Simple Things.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVpQIO3_C_2VNfBrkvrAESlLarqdwbMKGqxtLFtPgwVgDL4smHam5ycV9Bu4hQrr84iffNn1ubFu2CbtjJ-FxBMOLD9HMgPfdPq5etzWHizfaTOUY86WGqSCWBCHNW5zqeXa_RfQFOmO5/s1600/P9050033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVpQIO3_C_2VNfBrkvrAESlLarqdwbMKGqxtLFtPgwVgDL4smHam5ycV9Bu4hQrr84iffNn1ubFu2CbtjJ-FxBMOLD9HMgPfdPq5etzWHizfaTOUY86WGqSCWBCHNW5zqeXa_RfQFOmO5/s320/P9050033.JPG" /></a>So this morning at our daily devotional, Northstar's fearless and ever energetic leader Dan encouraged and inspired us, as he touched on death, regret and the <b>simplicity of celebration</b>. He shared about the hardships of his last twelve months and wanted to elaborate on his learnings from his intimate relationship with death. Here is a synopsis of the simple truths that have rocked my world and created a refocus and change in my point of view over the last thirteen hours and counting.<br />
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"Death shows us who we are and what our priorities are." - Dan Junker<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhZ4Fnz1osx-KQm2_fk7RcMevEAhujiYMVtd3ZhZdKj9-kiTmP0W1N3dL4KTIYJ98ZZow2Zru6q4Ml26i-C6fT4MaFm_bor8sqTtHs8mnvppZ-FII5XGW9My15IKl4O1Le5ZcwA087Kzm/s1600-h/P9070012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhZ4Fnz1osx-KQm2_fk7RcMevEAhujiYMVtd3ZhZdKj9-kiTmP0W1N3dL4KTIYJ98ZZow2Zru6q4Ml26i-C6fT4MaFm_bor8sqTtHs8mnvppZ-FII5XGW9My15IKl4O1Le5ZcwA087Kzm/s200/P9070012.JPG" /></a></div>The most important thing in life is our Lord. And in that, our attention down the line or to the future is useless or even unwarranted because "this is the day the Lord has made..." and tomorrow is not guarunteed. There is no guarantee except for the moment we are living in right now. So rejoice in that. Celebrate these little moments because combined they become the big ones in life. Reflect, slow down and TAKE A BREATH. Dan claimed it to be an amazing thing to be alive so remember its a gift from God and we should live accordingly.<br />
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His main point is this... <b>LOVE, LIVE and CELEBRATE</b>. Do not let life pass you by. Be the person today, you have always wanted to be tomorrow. Forgive. Dance and sing and laugh more. Watch less TV and go on more walks and bike rides. Drink more coffee with friends and play more board games with family. It is this moment that matters. It is the ones you love and the little joys in life that make it all worth while. Tell them, hug them and even celebrate them. <b>LIVE LIFE!</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnDoXrvYwBrehoE1XfJ7ZQbQ7O6MwWNpqO3qhPCRLZkhj4q0RcnO0LvuCdSRDabh7C_QIjUttGCpBzqGdU6x-m-6h_I-KYyu8OPzqWROEwZVN5qp7u4M-F9VEosC_liJFqDNbgUrn3Cz9/s1600-h/P9070020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnDoXrvYwBrehoE1XfJ7ZQbQ7O6MwWNpqO3qhPCRLZkhj4q0RcnO0LvuCdSRDabh7C_QIjUttGCpBzqGdU6x-m-6h_I-KYyu8OPzqWROEwZVN5qp7u4M-F9VEosC_liJFqDNbgUrn3Cz9/s200/P9070020.JPG" /></a></div><b>QUOTE of the Day:</b> "Oh yeah its the Tokyo banana" - <i>Me</i> "The what???" -<i>Mitchie</i> "You know, its pretty much a glorified twinkie!" -<i>Me</i> "Aaaaaa pinky?" - <i>Mitchie</i> (as she motions to his littlest finger) " hahaha no no no a TWINKIE not a PINKIE!" -<i>Me</i>Mark Spiegelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15768562227479616744noreply@blogger.com1