Hermitry: a Definition. Or not.

I think this is what I'm going for. And when I google searched for this picture, its title was "Arizona Mountain Man." So, I think it works.

The reason I write this post, though, is because it's convenient. Before, explaining what exactly my "hermitry" was was almost pointless. I may have been up to all sorts of shenanigans in Fiji and whatnot, but I was very much with other people. But now, I'm at Pepperdine. Campus life is very different - it's empty here. I knew this fact prior to my departure, so I told those closer to me that I would be spending the summer relatively alone - a mountain man. Or a hermit, if you will. Since I have now had a chance to explore what it's like to be a mountain man in Malibu, my blog's url now can make sense.

I've been busy this summer. I had about a week and a half at home, which was a much-needed "break" from the rush of things. But it wasn't much of a break at all. Jess graduated from high school, Gruess came rafting with my family (minus Jess) in Utah, the two of us explored Phoenix, Sam and I played volleyball, and Copper wimped out on a walk to the park. Here are some highlights from the trip (can it be called a trip if I was home for most of it?).

Sam, Dad, Grace and I went hiking at the second campsite, and we found this AWESOME pool. It was a ways up, far from the naked people down at the lower pools - not too hot, not too cold (actually, it was cold for me, but I freeze easily). And, we got to jump off the tiny "cliff" on the right. It was great.

Off the river.

Yay Cassie!

Okay, so I know I said I would give highlights of my visit at home, but the camera was only really out for the first half of being there. The rest of the time was spent (mostly) with family and (partly) with friends. And vehicle searching - very tedious. Then, off to Pepperdine.

SO MUCH SCIENCE

Working in the lab has been crazy. My boss/professor, Dr. Ganske, is probably one of the most intelligent people ever. And the guy who trained me, Andrew, is one of three students in next year's class of M.D./Ph.D. students at USC. So it's been a blessing to be surrounded by such intelligent people - I've been learning a TON. The official title of my project (actually, Andrew and Dr. Ganske's project, but I'm helping to finish it up) is something like The Application of Headspace Solid-Phase Micro-Extraction Coupled with Gas Chromatography-Mass Spectrometry to Non-Intrusively Characterize the Aging of Rare Books. On a side-note, many of the papers I read on the subject are from Europe or South America, where people spell "aging" "ageing." This bothers me. Today (somewhat relative since I've been working on this post for about a week and a half now), I actually discovered something significant for my project. I feel pretty good. Yay.

On weekends is when the hermitry happens. Malibu is beautiful, and I like to explore, whether that's by (attempting) surfing, hiking in Malibu Creek State Park, or... Okay, so I haven't been the best at being a hermit this summer, but I don't feel too bad about that. Hermitry can be nice and peaceful, but I also enjoy being with others.

Doing things like

Visiting Coach Mann at an Anaheim tournament (my coach from high school).

Going to NC to see the "other" Fullers.

Hanging out with Noah and his/our friends.

Getting food with visiting friends.

Summer UM.

Eating.

And I realize that I may have completely deviated from what I originally set out to do with this post, but that's what I get for not cranking it out in one sitting.

And I can't really even grow facial hair, so what's the point?

Home

Before I start, I would like to share something. I discovered this on Pandora Radio while trying to read for my chemistry research. I bought the whole album, which will be the soundtrack for this post. Sort of.

So, it's been a while since my last update. This post is about home, and ironically enough, I'm not home. Or am I? I hope to explore what home means and how the concept of home can change.

Home is not one place. At least not for me. To give a small example, I found myself at home in Fiji. Yes, I was in a third world country, thousands of miles from Ahwatukee, Arizona. Somehow, though, I felt at home. To be honest, I'm not quite sure why I felt that way. Probably, home has a lot to do with where we feel we belong. And I felt like I belonged in Fiji. God put me there for a reason, and that's about all I needed.

Yet, while I was in Fiji, I felt a longing to go home. Home is not necessarily where you live. Yes, I felt a sense of belonging and homeliness in Fiji, but I suppose only a small part of me felt that way. I was only beginning to establish my relationship with that place, and relationships take a long time to grow. Probably, if I had been there longer, Fiji would have become an even better "home" for me, but it would never be the only home in my mind. For instance, I was talking with Mike, the resident missionary near the mission, when he said something along the lines of, "You know, you get used to the way of life out here - it's a lot different from the way things run back home." Wait. He had been there for about a year, but it still wasn't home for him. The mere fact that Fiji was his place of residence did not mean that it was his home, and I see truth in that.

On one of the last days before leaving Fiji, I decided that I was ready to be home. Home, in Phoenix, with my family. People tell me I'm a very homely person - that I love to be home. How true that is. I suppose I can give you a summary of what happened.

I got home, watched my sister graduate, hung out with my family, had this one girl over, went rafting, played some volleyball, and bought a truck.

Moving on.

Ha.

I was only actually home for a week, but I really appreciated the time there. Home, the place I spent ten years of my life. Only ten years, though. What about those other 8? Home then was 583 West Magdalena. Which, after all these years, I still see as home, at least for part of me. In the same way, part of home will always be right next to South Mountain. What makes those places home, though?

Family. With my family, I fit. It may not always be extrinsically pretty, but we all feel a sense of homeliness when we're together. Even if they move away, I like to think I'll still feel at home with them.

And sometimes, feeling at home is a lot more important than physically being home. I left home to return to my other home - Pepperdine. And I have to build home for myself, now. Living in the apartments brings a sense of independence that forces me to own what I'm blessed to call home for the next three years. I was pretty stinking lonely when I first got here for the summer. And those feelings carried into the next week. Being busy helped distract me from how I felt, but the whole time, there was an underlying sense of not quite fitting in. Pepperdine is a different place in the summer, and it wasn't quite as homely as it was for me during the year.

But then something interesting happened. SOS. A bunch of homeless people - misfits, if you will - with whom I can feel at home. It blew my mind how I felt more at home with people who had no place to live than I did in my apartment. God works in beautiful ways. Since I care so deeply about this issue, you can ask me personally, as I don't think my written words could do any justice. But, while I'm writing about SOS, they can always use donations, used to buy things like coats, sleeping bags, and food for the homeless in the Santa Monica/Sunset Boulevard area. Here is the link.

Being home with homeless people brings me to my final thought. While home can exist in physical places, home ultimately is where the heart is. Yes, it's a cheesy saying, but there is simple, elegant truth in those words. Home should be a place of love, and God is love, so ultimately, our home is with God. I hope that doesn't seem too cliche. But whatever. God is our home. And that will never change.

Also, for the record,

I know what homely means.