{"id":60,"date":"2013-01-22T15:38:57","date_gmt":"2013-01-22T21:38:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/?page_id=60"},"modified":"2013-02-10T15:29:25","modified_gmt":"2013-02-10T21:29:25","slug":"ch-1-c-transitions","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/?page_id=60","title":{"rendered":"ch. 1.c  Transitions"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a title=\"ch. 1b    High Hopes and Stumbles\" href=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/?page_id=54\">&lt;\u00a0 previous<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 <a title=\"ch. 1. d.     Surviving\" href=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/?page_id=67\">next&gt;<\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em>Prefer to listen?\u00a0 Click here:<\/em><\/p>\n<div id=\"mp3jWrap_0\" class=\"mjp-s-wrapper s-graphic unsel-mjp  verdana-mjp\" style=\"font-size:14px;\"><span id=\"playpause_wrap_mp3j_0\" class=\"wrap_inline_mp3j\" style=\"font-weight:700;\"><span class=\"gfxbutton_mp3j play-mjp\" id=\"playpause_mp3j_0\" style=\"font-size:14px;\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/span>&nbsp;<span class=\"group_wrap\"><span class=\"bars_mp3j\"><span class=\"loadB_mp3j\" id=\"load_mp3j_0\"><\/span><span class=\"posbarB_mp3j\" id=\"posbar_mp3j_0\"><\/span><\/span><span class=\"T_mp3j\" id=\"T_mp3j_0\" style=\"font-size:14px;\">1. Chapter-1-c<\/span><span class=\"indi_mp3j\" style=\"font-size:9.8px;\" id=\"statusMI_0\"><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div><span class=\"s-nosolution\" id=\"mp3j_nosolution_0\" style=\"display:none;\"><\/span><script>\nMP3jPLAYLISTS.inline_0 = [\n\t{ name: \"1. Chapter-1-c\", formats: [\"mp3\"], mp3: \"aHR0cHM6Ly9oYW5pbGl2ZXMuY29tL3dwLWNvbnRlbnQvdXBsb2Fkcy9IUy1OZXctY2gtMS1jLm1wMw==\", counterpart:\"\", artist: \"\", image: \"\", imgurl: \"\" }\n];\n<\/script>\n\n<script>MP3jPLAYERS[0] = { list: MP3jPLAYLISTS.inline_0, tr:0, type:'single', lstate:'', loop:false, play_txt:'&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;', pause_txt:'&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;', pp_title:'', autoplay:false, download:false, vol:100, height:'' };<\/script>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/SanFran.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-63\" alt=\"SanFran\" src=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/SanFran-150x200.jpg\" width=\"150\" height=\"200\" srcset=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/SanFran-150x200.jpg 150w, https:\/\/hanilives.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/SanFran-225x300.jpg 225w, https:\/\/hanilives.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/SanFran-768x1024.jpg 768w, https:\/\/hanilives.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/SanFran.jpg 1224w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 150px) 100vw, 150px\" \/><\/a>San Francisco.\u00a0\u00a0 I lasted three whole weeks with Marissa and Steve, hunkering down in their comfortable but tiny guest room, long phone conversations with the lawyer I\u2019d found in Denver, someone I\u2019d picked out of the phone book.\u00a0 When he found out how well-heeled Dale was, he perked up, but I wasn\u2019t interested in that.\u00a0 I felt like I had gum on my shoe.\u00a0 All I wanted was to scrap off that life and move on.<\/p>\n<p>Steve was a decent guy, but as a minister I guess he felt obligated to talk to me about, well, Life, God, all that.\u00a0 I wanted to crawl out of my skin.\u00a0 Wanted to be anywhere but there on their couch, listening to a version of Life and God that was clearly well-intentioned but which didn\u2019t manage to lodge anywhere near the vicinity of my battered soul.\u00a0 Not wanting to offend them, and all too aware that I hardly possessed any credentials to debate theology with anyone, I just sat there, mute, the World\u2019s Biggest Loser.<\/p>\n<p>But why was I cringing away from all Steve\u2019s God talk, when my heart was secretly crying out for God \u2013 some God, any God \u2013 to show himself.\u00a0 Herself.\u00a0 Itself. Whatever.<\/p>\n<p>In fact, I could hardly bear the spiritual hunger, this hole inside that demanded filling, though it was all mixed up with the shame I felt at my own stupidity and failure, and the reflexive fear that still gripped me.\u00a0 Only now, four states away, could I begin to notice just how afraid I\u2019d actually been, for so long.\u00a0 Only now did I actually catch myself mid-flinch when I heard a raised voice, bracing for someone to yell at me, reflexively panicking, looking for a bolt-hole.<\/p>\n<p>Here\u2019s what I knew, what I\u2019d always known, though I would never have admitted it, not then, not even to a nice and Godly guy like Steve.\u00a0 Even as a child, I\u2019d heard what I could only describe as the Call.\u00a0 The call to be something \u2026<i>more<\/i>.\u00a0 Or some subtle sense that there <i>was<\/i> something more, that I was inherently something more, or that there was some meaningful purpose earmarked just for me.<\/p>\n<p>I remember one night; I must have been about nine. \u00a0That would make it the house we had in Houston, the one a few blocks from Rice University. \u00a0There was a terrible electrical storm, the kind they have in the south, lightning cracking so close there\u2019s not even a heartbeat between the light and the sound of thunder that followed on its heels.\u00a0 Wind whipping the tree limbs almost to breaking point.<\/p>\n<p>For some reason, I didn\u2019t cower in my bed that night, like I often did, all alone.\u00a0 My parents weren\u2019t the kind to come in and check on me, and it wouldn\u2019t have occurred to me that I could invade their sleep just because I needed comfort, or felt afraid.<\/p>\n<p>That night, I heard and felt the storm.\u00a0 I got up and went to the window \u2013 probably a stupid thing to do, lightning like that does strike houses in those places.\u00a0 But I stood there, watching, hands pressed to the glass, as if I was at the very center of the storm.<\/p>\n<p>As if God itself was talking to me through these crackling bolts of power.<\/p>\n<p>I always remembered the experience of that night, always carried the memory of what it felt like to be a \u2026child of the universe, like that poem, <i>Desiderata<\/i>.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\" http:\/\/www.cs.columbia.edu\/~gongsu\/desiderata_textonly.html\" target=\"_blank\">Desiderata<\/a><\/p>\n<p>But then, like another poem, Wordsworth\u2019s, put it, I lost it again, all that \u201csplendor in the grass, glory in the flower\u201d, lost the wonder and reality of the moment.\u00a0 I grew up.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.bartleby.com\/145\/ww331.htmlhttp:\/\/\" target=\"_blank\">Wordsworth, <em>Intimations of Immortality<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n<p>But now the hunger was back, big time.\u00a0 I only wished I knew what it was I was looking for, like that silly but catchy song that kept running through my head said, something\u2026 <i>untried but true.<\/i><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Untried but True\" width=\"640\" height=\"480\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/k5LQbI_vysU?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>So, for some reason, I didn\u2019t want to admit to my concerned hosts that I was haunting the New Age bookstores during the day, spending money I didn\u2019t have, squirreling away in my purse books I didn\u2019t want anyone to see as I looked for work.\u00a0 Journaling fiercely, trying to understand\u2026 everything.<\/p>\n<p>Trying and failing.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a title=\"ch. 1b    High Hopes and Stumbles\" href=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/?page_id=54\">&lt;\u00a0 previous<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 <a title=\"ch. 1. d.     Surviving\" href=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/?page_id=67\">next&gt;<\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &lt;\u00a0 previous\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 next&gt; &nbsp; Prefer to listen?\u00a0 Click here: &nbsp; San Francisco.\u00a0\u00a0 I lasted three whole weeks with Marissa and Steve, hunkering down in their comfortable but tiny guest room, long phone conversations with the lawyer &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/?page_id=60\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-60","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/60","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=60"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/60\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":330,"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/60\/revisions\/330"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/hanilives.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=60"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}