One Art

One Art
Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.



Is there a word for "the opposite of a paradox"? A paradox sounds impossible but is really true; this sounds (at first) sincere and is actually false. I'm tempted to really analyze it because it has so many facets, but I think I'll keep it in my mind for now and let you do your own thinking if it interests you. And if you do your own thinking, you should share it with me.

Of mineral baths and humanity . . .

This afternoon, I finally got off the ship again. There is a mineral bath nearby - the only thing nearby to where we are - and I walked there with Tanya and Micha. We were the only Caucasians in the whole place (which was nowhere near as uncomfortable for me as it would have been two months ago). It was wonderful - the sun was so nice and the water felt fantastic - and while I was just hanging out in the pool, I had such a neat slice-of-life moment. I heard a commotion on one side of the pool and looked over to see a Jamaican woman teaching her daughter how to float on her back. She was supporting her underneath and trying to convince her to do it. "It's okay, I've got you, I've got you." Exactly how my parents did with me. Exactly how I've done with other (American) children.

It all just seemed so normal to me . . . going to a Jamaican hangout spot with a Russian couple. And there are many things I don't really "get" about Jamaicans and Jamaican culture, but I "get" what it's like to learn how to float on your back. I know exactly what that's all about. SO many things are different, but at the same time . . . we're all humans and some things are just the same. Not profound, I know. But it was a neat experience.

In other news . . . I've heard that things change ALL the time here on the ship, but it's interesting when you start to experience it. I've been working - what, three and a half weeks? - and I've already had a job change. Slash addition. Three days ago I had training to be a head cashier, and last night was my first night. When they asked me, I wasn't sure what to say, but I am SO GLAD I agreed - I really enjoyed it. I don't think I could do it by myself yet, but it'll come, right? It's actually a lot like waitressing, where it's just a matter of crazy multi-tasking and trying to keep everything working smoothly. Except it can get scary because you work with money instead of just food. :-) When they did all the paperwork at the end of the night, the guy who was helping train me tried to convince me that if there were any errors (which there always are) they were going to take it out of my pocket money . . . thats not actually the case, but it's still a little nervewracking to be responsible for money.

Anyway. I feel like this is a boring post, but it's better than nothing, eh?

A Meta-Post . . .

I kind of thought I would be more frequent about posting on here. But as I keep intending to write posts and my good intentions keep failing, I have concluded that there is a problem - and I think I have figured out what the problem is. One thing is that I am still very much in the adjustment phase - I'm still just trying to get a grip on my new life - which is certainly a privilege but which is also quite hard and quite different. What this means is that I don't really have much of anything interesting to say. Any thoughts I have regarding my new life are expressed in the form of questions. Generally you pose questions to a particular audience, with the goal of getting some sort of an answer - you don't necessarily just write them out for the heck of it. However, I suppose it is possible that someone may be interested enough to read and respond to a question, so I'm willing to take a gamble on it, even though that wasn't my original purpose for this blog.

So here goes.

The big question is this: What is the bare minimum for salvation?

The question that relates more to my life is this: Is it possible that a Rastafarian is saved? Rastafarianism is basically a modification of Christianity. Many things have been added or twisted, but at some level they follow the Bible and believe in the same God we do. They believe in Jesus and everything he taught. They have an additional leader, Haile Selassie, but they don't place him above Jesus - they actually believe that he is the reincarnation of Jesus. They sin and violate the commandments we are given. So do I. They use faulty reasoning to justify their mistakes and their flawed ways of life. So do I. Their beliefs about God are not entirely accurate. Neither are mine.

There it is. Consider this an open invitation to join the discussion. :-D