Leaves were falling, just like embers.

Fall here is not like any Southern fall I've experienced. Instead of turning from green to drab brown in the period of a couple of weeks, which my forester father blames on the dry years we've had recently, the trees seem to take their time, phasing through all the appropriate hues of yellow, orange, and red. Because this is the Pacific Northwest, green is still around with the bushes and the persistent conifers. Even though most of the locals warn of the coming winter gloom and cloudy days, the past few weeks have been filled with clear and mostly sunny days, leaving Mount Rainier open for all to see. Coming across the West Seattle Bridge back into Seattle after a hard day of work at Denny to see Rainier popping up majestically in the distance, the cranes of Harbor Island that look exactly like orange brachiosauruses, and downtown Seattle from across the sound and the harbor is a view I'll never get used to or tire of. Needless to say, this is the most beautiful fall season I may have ever experienced.

The Byrds said that to everything, there is a season (I suppose I should also attribute this to the Bible, but personally the Byrds are more appealing.) Fall is typically the season of change, as signaled by cooler temperatures, transforming leaves, the beginning of a new school year, Election Day, and more. While I doubt that any more change takes place in fall as opposed to any other time of the year, it seems that I am much more aware of these changes in me. This only occurred to me as I was driving to church yesterday morning, and serendipitiously the pastor spoke of change in his self-titled Election Sermon. Apparently it is tradition in some New England churches for the pastor, reverend, whatever, to preach about elections in some form or fashion before any major election. My Northwest Rev. Jon Luopa also felt the need to expound on elections, change, his recent trip to Transylvania, Erik Erikson, Richard Rorty, Cicero, and the need for greater caring throughout the world. I'll try to summarize as concisely and clearly as possible:

This election year seem to be all about change -- one candidate is calling for the status quo, as typically does the candidate's representative political party, while the other party and its candidate espouse change. Historically, this has always been the case. However, at this point more than any other in arguably the past 30 years, this country and the world are going to experience more change than ever before. What most of the world is hoping is that we will grow with this change and learn from our past mistakes, much as adolescents do. Erik Erikson defined these different stages of growth, and adolescence is known as the period of identity crises and the development of the superego. (I'm generally a skeptic for psychology and especially for putting people in phases, but for take of this piece lets just assume Erikson's stages are somewhat accurate.)Unfortunately, the rest of the world (as Erikson's adults) sees the United States in such a stage -- they love our pop culture, our independence, and general culture, but could do without our selfishness, insecurity, and lack of caring for others. One Transylvanian got in a conversation with Luopa about the election, and commented that most Americans don't realize that we are not just electing a new President, but also a world leader. Our foreign policies, economy, and legal system affect the global population -- and here most Americans are worrying about if we will ever be able to retire comfortably, or focusing on putting millions of dollars into banning marriages of love. No wonder the rest of the world finds us wasteful and self-absorbed. Erikson's next stage of growth is adulthood, which is mainly defined by the phrase "caring for others." In order to reach adulthood, one truly needs to learn what it means to care for others -- physically, mentally, emotionally, economically, psychologically, and so on. For the past eight years, the US has made it clear that it does not want to reach out to the rest of the globe. The opposite of caring is neglect, and as a nation, we have neglected the world for years through basically ignoring genocide in Darfur, allowing children even in our own nation to die of starvation, and much much more. We must soon realize that we are not a nation with bars, a gated community unconnected from other nationalities. Though we have neighborhoods that are supposedly protected, how much does that wall really keep the realities of the outside from permeating through? We have to realize that we are a part of a global community, and we are only a small part of it. Even the Roman general Scipio, almost 2,000 years ago, noted in a dream that he recalled to then Emperor Cicero, that individuals and nations are but a speck in the timeline of the Earth and the universe. This is certainly as true now as it was then. If we ever are to grow into a nation that acts as adults in caring for one another, human being to human being, we must elect leaders, and most importantly, become leaders in our own communities, who truly care.

I hope this summary did his sermon justice, because it was by far the most moving and persuasive piece of writing I have ever heard. It seems though that this event is only a chunk of many different experiences I’ve had for the past week where I find myself saying, “I want to stop right now and just write and feel this moment.” It’s as if I’m filming different scenes for a story – a foggy sunrise at rocky Cama Beach, my boss accidentally rolling the shoe of our service partner with bright Disney-red paint, progressing from nights where the sun never really sets to mornings where it seems it will stay black and gray all day, the Americorps launch, where one speaker noted, “Dreams may be delayed, but they cannot be denied”, traipsing around Capitol Hill, Madrona, Madison Park, and the CD for the best coffee and pastries in town, viewing the east side of Lake Washington from Madrona Park on a clear day, raucous laughter and impaired walking 25 blocks in the middle of the night to the nearest bus stop home, hearing the adorable and awkward beginnings of friendships between the middle schoolers in my program, my attempts (sometimes in vain) to make connections with people on the opposite side of the US than my heart – and somehow, someway, they will all come together to produce something beneficial and much needed in me, something unnamed that I came here to find. For me, fall is simply the acknowledgement of my new escapades, and no matter how much I try to fight it, some things about myself and the life around me are going to change. This is not a new concept to me, but it is the first time I've cognitively noted any acceptance of this fact, which is a step in a personally uncharted and untroubled direction.

But enough of that. For now, I shall entertain you with this very silly picture of myself as Sarah Palin and my roommate Kerry as Bjork, for a recent Halloween party. No full body shot, but I do have the typical older-lady updo and bangs sweep, as well as a lapel pin! (Do your best to ignore the slightly off-kilter glasses. Perhaps that’s how you know I haven’t turned into a true, straight-laced Republican.)


Peace,

Corey