Stumbling upon a time...

If I owned a cool smart phone with a European Sim card I could update my location elephant by elephant. Yes, there’s a parade of painted elephants placed all over this town as a way to raise money for conservation efforts in Asia. The creativity of the Danish artists astounds me so while I have found the traditional tourist sites, these little guys are the greatest attraction…and just one of the things I stumbled upon during my time in Copenhagen, Denmark.

Traveling by myself can be lonely especially as I come across sites or experiences that I know my people would appreciate. But it also has its perks, the greatest being getting lost and stumbling. With a flexible spirit I tour by foot, going in and out of streets sometimes with purpose and sometimes out of unknowing. That’s how I found a grocery store just before my low blood sugar knocked me out.

On my first day I discovered a wonderful garden area. As I would have said in my younger, speech-impaired days, “That’s a nice pawk." The sky had flooded the city two days before my arrival so the King’s Garden with floral arches and small ponds had overflowed into the grassy lawn. But the stillness of that moment in time gave me an opportunity to capture a new kind of photograph for me, a reflection. Today, after returning to eat my picnic, I walked along the outer path where there happened to be a puppet theatre. Children and grandmas had gathered to watch the performance scheduled just 10 minutes later. So I snagged a seat by a small child and reveled in the simple but beautiful story about a girl on a bike tour who has to deliver goods to multiple people. It was certainly a highlight.

As was the prayer services I attended at 3pm the last two days. The Helligaands Church hosts summer prayer services starting yesterday and thru August so I was one of a handful of guinea pigs on the first days. In the short 15 minutes we sang Taize songs, prayed and heard scripture, all of which spoke directly to me. Today the service included a special English piece sung by an opera singer and accompanied by their huge organ. Angelic.

I stumbled upon a very aesthetically pleasing café with walls lined with old books, delicious Chai tea and free Internet. Along with the Little Mermaid that attracts tourists like the Mona Lisa (with a similar overrating exhibit in my opinion), a mock mermaid stands just a little bit further down the path. While the famous one is Disney rated, the other one would be better for South Park. I found places with free toilets instead of paying $1 to pee. And if you want to make a quicker get around the city, one can rent a bike for $4. The best part is that once I insert the key to lock the bike up again, I get my money back. And the bike can be returned at any of the 30 locations in town.

I leave tomorrow for Oslo, but I will miss my stumbling moments in Copenhagen. With each moment, I feel like I’m opening a new children’s book, ready to finish the opening line, “Once upon a time…”

child muse

Five-year old approval goes a long way especially when it comes to stories. Who better than to nix an idea or give a short though all the same standing ovation for some literary genius? While I wish I could claim either of those titles, a literary or a genius, I do have some clever stories every once in awhile. And this afternoon proved to be a magical moment.

I’m an artist that needs a muse, a muse with a suggestion, however small or off the wall. Were you ever asked to draw something and sit stumped at what profound picture might grace the single page with which you have to create a masterpiece? Somehow a flower always comes to mind. (Tangent: If ever I tried to fall asleep as a kid, the image of the Wicked Witch of the West, rainbows and elephants came to my head. Once the witch flew over these latter pieces of my imagination, I would be out. So flowers seem somehow docile and obvious.) When it comes to stories, a similar block comes to my head. That was until I read a book that suggested inserting 2 things: human, mineral or otherwise. Pink and teacups or grass and telescope can start a myriad of great stories. (This suggestion to get suggestions is key to improv if ever you have to MC without a script…)

This afternoon my listener offered princess and dragon. While almost too easy I decided to put the dragon in the closet and take the princess to 3rd grade. Only my hero, Oliver, could make all things right, all the while sporting green converse sneakers.

I finished not to applause but to a smile. I guess that was a good enough prize; I wasn’t interrupted or booed off the stage, and the audience participated in key ways, even naming the auxiliary characters. What this five-year old doesn’t know is that she gave me a boost, actually a running start at one of my bucket list items: write a children’s book.

Now I just have to find an enamoring title and equally clever way to present the child’s tale to adults. Talk about a tough crowd! Maybe I should hand out beanies with spinners when I present my idea. Weee…

do tell...

Ever hear a story that went beyond your comprehension? A story that was so opposite or implausible compared to your own that it seemed fiction despite the personal testimony?

I love those stories. I love telling those stories of my own outrageous experiences. But admittedly they are difficult to swallow. As a listener, it’s hard to put myself in the other person’s shoes completely. Depending on location and culture, I have a fairly good picture of the physical surroundings and the ways various circumstances such as rudimentary housing, abject poverty, and a palpable desire to survive, could affect a person’s thoughts and feelings. But in the end, there's just enough disconnect to be frustrating.

As the story teller, the vividness of the scenes, the intensity of all five senses and the burning smell of the synapses firing, trying to connect the dots of a new world, are all too much to articulate. It’s like a scientist doing hundreds of hours of research and having to sum it up in a ten-page article. While the results of the research or the successes and experiences of a trip or life circumstance seek the limelight, it’s all the rest that continues to marinate inside.

This thought comes to me tonight as I pray for a team from our church that will return tomorrow from a ten-day mission and cultural immersion in El Salvador. Our pastor has been good enough to blog throughout the trip. However, he repeatedly apologizes for being both too tired and unable to find all the words to articulate how and why the trip has impacted him and the team in a unique way.

Likewise, I had dinner tonight with a friend who lived in a refugee camp for most of her life. She recalled memories from her original home in Burundi and then relayed some images concerning the camp in Tanzania. I desperately desired to know with all five senses and in a heart and soul way what life was like, but my head barely clung to her tale.

From my own experience, it’s a gift to share about times and situations in our lives that profoundly shape us. And each time I return from other trip, look at pictures from an experience, or replay a scene in my head, I realize even more how important that sharing is. I look forward to the return of the El Salvador team, but I am even more excited to help them share, process and grasp the richness of their experience.

As a traveler, always longing to go again, and also a seeker of great moments, I encourage my readers to seek out friends, family and strangers and hear their stories. Most will deny they have such awesome tales to tell, but if honesty comes forth, profound experiences will bubble forth and bless both the listener and narrator.