Be alright (the disc golf day)

I’d never tried disc golf before this weekend, and let me tell you, it’s a lot harder than it looks. The rules are similar to golf. You have a certain number of throws per hole, and at the end of the game, the person with the lowest score wins. Instead of hitting a ball with a club into a hole, you throw a small Frisbee into a basket. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Honestly, it’s a bit hipster. I mean, there are different styles and weights of discs. We even saw one serious player carrying a case full of discs. Really, dude? You’re going to drag your elementary-school kid around the park to watch you throw your collection of special discs at a basket? I shake my head at your poor parenting choices. Poor, young, bored kid.

The overall goal, generally achieved from further away.

Jon wasn’t bad at all, but he was much too busy climbing on things and showing off his acrobatic skills. 

Jon showing off.

After we finished “playing”, or throwing discs with no apparent goal or reason for throwing, we decided to explore the park. My favorite part of the whole place is the bridge. When you walk up to it, it looks like this. 

It just looks like a nondescript bridge.

But, when you climb around the bridge to the other side, you find this. 

The view from behind the bridge.

The water is very shallow, so we naturally took off our shoes and waded around. I mean, what else are you supposed to do here? There was a whole family exploring the water too, but I’m not enough of a creeper to take pictures of someone else’s adventures, especially not when there are children involved.

He looks guilty, like I caught him doing something horrible.

 After we finished playing in the water like hippies, Jon and Faron posed for pictures with the graffiti like the hipsters they are.

Just like the graffiti, they'll be alright.

 After the park had ceased to amuse us, we ate dinner at Faron’s and jammed out on her collection of instruments. The three of us are going to make beautiful music together.

 

The rest of the pictures from the park are on Flickr, if you really want to take the few seconds out of your life to look at them. http://www.flickr.com/photos/iamcrownedwithflowers/sets/72157626680387855/

We already know so much.

All of this post is based on conversations with Jonathan. He inspires me so much.

The Greek word for learning actually translates closer to what we call remembering. They believed that our souls were all-knowing, and that this knowledge was lost when our souls were trapped inside our bodies. It’s an interesting thought.

I think that sometimes we know a lot more than we think we do. Sometimes we just sense what others are feeling, or we know what’s going to happen to us eventually. We’re more aware of God’s plans than we realize. Maybe it’s because we’re afraid of knowing. Maybe we just don’t want to accept that we have that power.

I think that “fate” is really just a matter of being where we’re supposed to so that good things can happen to us. I think that God, or the universe, or whatever you want to call what’s bigger than us, has already set opportunities in place for us. We just have to be the best people we can, and recognize the opportunities in front of us. When we accept that things are as they’re supposed to be, then we can truly be happy.

Just sayin’.

Kitchen adventure!

I just finished cooking dinner with my friend/little brother Jonathan, with all the preparatory work handled by our friend Liz. It was simple, chicken alfredo made with sauce from a jar, but it was a pleasant experience. There’s nothing quite like sharing a kitchen with someone you are comfortable with. It’s like starting a creative venture together. You’re forced to be close to each other, and so you accept that person in your personal space. Usually I don’t like to share a kitchen because of that closeness, but with good friends I don’t mind at all.

After cooking, we shooed away Jonathan’s cat, Kitten, while we ate. We listened to his jazz-fusion and made cheesy jokes together. I wonder which was cheesier: the jokes, or the pasta?

Happy times.