Hannah's prayer

1 Samuel 2:1-10

And Hannah prayed and said,

“My heart exults in the Lord;
my strength is exalted in the Lord.
My mouth derides my enemies,
because I rejoice in your salvation.

2 “There is none holy like the Lord;
there is none besides you;
there is no rock like our God.
3 Talk no more so very proudly,
let not arrogance come from your mouth;
for the Lord is a God of knowledge,
and by him actions are weighed.
4 The bows of the mighty are broken,
but the feeble bind on strength.
5 Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,
but those who were hungry have ceased to hunger.
The barren has borne seven,
but she who has many children is forlorn.
6 The Lord kills and brings to life;
he brings down to Sheol and raises up.
7 The Lord makes poor and makes rich;
he brings low and he exalts.
8 He raises up the poor from the dust;
he lifts the needy from the ash heap
to make them sit with princes
and inherit a seat of honor.
For the pillars of the earth are the Lord's,
and on them he has set the world.

9 “He will guard the feet of his faithful ones,
but the wicked shall be cut off in darkness,
for not by might shall a man prevail.
10 The adversaries of the Lord shall be broken to pieces;
against them he will thunder in heaven.
The Lord will judge the ends of the earth;
he will give strength to his king
and exalt the power of his anointed.”

The silver lining

The week before coming to NYC for sophomore year I went on a road-trip down to Cali with my parents and grandma (mom's side) to visit some family.

On the drive back, my grandma went on for about an hour or so describing the annoying qualities of her husband. After zoning in and out of her fierce Korean dialogue, I caught the tail-end of it:

"I guess I should be grateful; at least I have someone to argue with"

cinnamomum verum

Yes, it's been a while since I blogged. Moving on.

One of my favorite spices (probably my favorite) is commonly known as cinnamon. A dark

brown, usually ground spice of sweet, sensual flavor. Before landing in the attic of the familiar

kitchen cabinet or pantry, this wonderful divine creation is a small evergreen tree native to Sri

Lanka.

It's really brain tickling to think that this same source of wonderful flavor was used in ancient times as a prized gift for kings, monarchs, and other higher-ups. Although I could care less that some narcissistic, (most likely) incestuously bred royals enjoyed cinnamon as much as I do in the present day, I do love the fact that it is mentioned in the Bible as part of soothing illustrations: Proverbs 7 mentions a lover's bed perfumed with myrrh, aloe, and cinnamon and a song of Solomon describes his beloved's beauty with the spice.

Not only is cinnamon an enduring flavor, it also has a number of bodily benefits (For fun I'm going to list these as if cinnamon was a man):

• He can lower LDL cholesterol
• He may have a regulatory effect on blood sugar, making him especially good for people with Type 2 diabetes
• He has been shown to stop medication-resistant yeast infections
• He has been shown to reduce the proliferation of leukemia and lymphoma cancer cells
• He has an anti-clotting effect on blood
• He is a natural food preservative by inhibiting bacterial growth and food spoilage when added to food
• If you smell him, he can boost cognitive function and memory
• He is a great source of manganese, fiber, iron, and calcium

This dude gives some more insight into the health benefits of cinnamon: http://www.thehealthysnacksblog.com/2007/11/12/the-top-5-health-benefits-of-cinnamon/

So why cinnamon? It's like a good friend. Not toxic, but in fact good for you, nutritious. Spoken highly of, yet not a celebrity; approachable and friendly to the most mediocre of people. And best of all, he smells fantastically memorable.

Sources: internet

Recommendations:

-Honey and cinnamon with plain, non-fat yogurt and bananas

-1 and a half tablespoons of him with 4 apples when making homemade applesauce (no added sugar please)

-Sprinkled over French toast with a light drizzle of real maple syrup made from whole-wheat bread smiling upon scrambled eggs clothed in ketchup

discovering leon russell

I was browsing around the Amazon mp3 store through the $5 albums, listening to random artists, when I stumbled upon Leon Russell. Apparently he's a legend in the country/folk rock world, so I can't believe I only found about him now. I love the simplicity and stripped down, rawness of folk rock. Anyways, before I get too hipster on this blog, I wanted to share this crazy good performance by Leon, Ray, and Willie of Leon Russell's "Song for you". It's amazing how genuine Ray Charles sings.



You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

so these jeans

So these jeans he had on didn’t fit like they used to. They were faded and there was a frayed patch of denim on the right pant-leg where the knee likes to settle. He didn’t like their new feel. It was that damned washing machine, commercial and economical. It was too simple, and small, he could only fit half of his hamper.

So these dang jeans. He looked at them with surprising contempt. When he tried them on at the store they were so perfect. The wash was dark, a pristine dark wash of neatly folded and sowed denim. There was a guarantee on those jeans. A promise that they would be more than satisfactory to him. He looked at himself from the waist down, following the inseam down to the floor. A great pair of jeans, what a great wash, dark, perfect, a really good wash.

His jeans. He rustled his shaggy hair, the oil lingering on his fingertips. His fingertips rubbing the patch. His knee, alive, living, breathing beneath more than satisfactory material. The oil remained on the imperfection, the soft breach of fabric poisoning the assurance of quality and ruining his opulence.

He took in a final breath through his cigarette and killed it on the patch, thoroughly rubbing in the ashes with scorn. He violently threw the cigarette to the cement, his index and middle finger liberated. They tore through the poison and ripped those dang jeans, that damned washing machine.

He stepped on the lifeless cigarette and squinted his eyes. He had to get another really good wash now, he had to.

a self-portrait

Inside of the shoebox was a spider. The spider had only known the shoebox, and the shoebox had never opened itself for the spider. The spider thrived in the shoebox, relished in its efficacies and materials, until one day when the spider saw that the shoebox was a shoebox. The spider moved toward the edge of the shoebox and pushed its delicate body against the cardboard. The spider felt a sensation and was suddenly overwhelmed with knowledge and curiosity as it saw the gauntness of thriving and relishing. The spider knew, believed, understood that there was something unimaginable beyond the cardboard, the only thing that could bring genuine fulfillment, meaning, purpose. The efficacies and materials scoffed at the spider and began to stifle it. The spider struggles. The spider believes. The spider is still in the shoebox.