Grecian Beginnings and Spans of Time That Followed

Let all other burstings held within this mind be laid aside for one brief moment as I apologize sincerely for my infidelity towards these writings. It is my understanding that a few have developed an enmity of sorts concerning the substantial span of time since my previous post. I am sincerely sorry. I have little to no excuse of real merit. Though you may not think as such when I describe to you the plethora of happenings since I arrived here in the heart of Greece. The past few weeks seem to have held a span of fluttering and pondering for my mind and heart. reconciling my own preconceptions with the actual proceedings does not seem to do the concept adequate justice. But according to the task of this method, my duty is to attempt to provide some type of juxtaposition of mind and event in the following sketch.

My first assessment of Greece, even just after our trip from the airport to the school campus, was that of the air. The breath grows heavy from the air here, but this is not in the same sense that explorers seem to purport having returned from mountaintop excursions. The air is thick here, but in a refreshing way. Its as if the lungs hope to discover something profound in such oxygen, but all that is found is a rich simplicity. The taste was one of exciting familiarity. Autumn evenings resemble our best summer evenings in America: the ones that beckon an ice-cold lemonade, perhaps pink in hue, bleeding perspiration for the contented spirit. At the same time, the nights here can be just nippy enough for a light blanket, ideal for those cheeky evening lights and heavenly bodies that call you to a late night on the rooftop. Oh yes, I suppose since you have no concept of the grounds here, you are perhaps utterly confounded at this point.

The campus is modest, with two primary buildings: that of the dormitories and that of the classrooms, administrative offices, and library. It's proximities, however, are ideal for the atmosphere of the school. There is a homely expression about the entire place. The library is filled with such books as could hold my interest for many years, I am sure. But the one aspect of the campus that most perplexed and amazed me upon arrival was most assuredly the rooftop of the dormitory building. It is reminiscent of the rooftops that are described in biblical passages. Not only is it entirely stable for consistent tread and weight, but it is also used to hang laundry, and some have begun workout routines on its excesses. I have already enjoyed nights of music and conversation atop our roof beneath the night's strange motion.

The school is located in the town of Pikermi which, in relation to Athens, is about the equivalent proportion of my home town in relation to the inner city of Chicago. I make this comparison in terms of time, rather than distance. With the public transportation system, the distance is blurred into the measurement of minutes and hours. I am also not entirely sure of the comparison between the kilometer and the mile. My ignorance shall haunt me unto the grave. Nevertheless, the location of the school is ideal, for in the west, the city of Rafina graces the coast of the Aegean sea facing the beautiful Greek isle of Andros, and in the east, Athens lies in all of its historical and aesthetic beauty. Pictures are few and far between. But take a look. My conundrum is the fact that on the one trip during which the mountains of Andros were clearly visible across the coast from Rafina, I neglected to bring my camera. This same obstacle presented itself on my first visit to Mars Hill, the location of Paul's message to the Athenians concerning their unknown god. But fear not, my friends. It costs one euro sixty to make a trip to Athens and back. That's a little over 2 dollars. There will be plenty of opportunities, I assure you. I have yet to visit the Acropolis, but in due time, that too will come to pass. I am also greatly anticipating a visit to the very hall in which many of the philosophers of the day conversed and debated.

But enough of these drab chronological details. I would like, if I may, to recap last weekend's events. I shall do so in a short narrative.

The day was spotless, gazing without obstruction down upon the contented peaks and valleys of the Greek coastline. Collectively, our student body, along with the faculty and staff members, embarked on an all-school retreat to the seaside harbor of Porto Rafti. No sooner had we arrived at our destination, when the proposition was made: "Let us look seaward to sandy shores and salt-sea surf." Thus, we took to the wake, awakening anew with the sight of islets off the speckled beach of ivory rock and iron-clad cliffs. I do have photos in abundance. But let me paint a picture, if I may. The rocky shoreline acquitted us all of our trespasses, and marble colored slabs, jutting defiantly into the reef, held the waves at bay and bade us explore their reaches. Nigh drew our adventurous blood, and so spoiled were we by the slabs and the sea, that donning the rocks 'mid the tumultuous flood, did these travelers find crevices of vast entity. Clearings and cliffs where the water was deep were our resting grounds. It was here that we sojourned for awhile, careening into the warm water below with welcomed reception. Waves that otherwise wrecked and weather were friendly to us as fellow travelers. A wave travels many hours without relenting, and without warning, exhausted anger may lash from its wits. God eased their tempers this fine afternoon, and we aliens were made to be home 'mid their tune. We resonated as one, we travelers, seeking only to gratefully grace the great wonders of this Grecian harbor.

The rest of the weekend included an array of activities, spanning the length of conversations 'neath an evening's rainfall, and many a story told in the utmost of confidence and clandestineness. There were those also told with honesty's air, and Lord only knows we were honesty's heir in this at least: that encouragement and building of spirit united us all in Spirit. We knew better each other, and perhaps we knew better ourselves, but none knew better the bond we would form that the self should diminish in light of each other. And what other light could unify so well, than the light of the sovereign Lord, which probes and reveals the inmost of things, that the outer might fail to surpass its own means.

The sojourn in Porto Rafti made a mark on my conscience. Seldom have camps and retreats served to provide lasting pictures of pure contentment in Christ alone. For it wasn't the beauty, and it wasn't the company, it was a peace that met my spirit on those rocks. Seldom also do I claim to place much stock in the experience, for my shares are to lie with Christ in all things. However, the time to read in solitude and pray amid the morning sunlight streaming through trellis and tree line made for a renewal of spirit. Many say that the aesthete is only about the spirit of things, and never the reason. But reason met spirit in these morning, for assurance in Christ that one is in the right place for such a time as this cannot come from heartfelt feeling alone, but from understanding the Grace that keeps you and renews you with its mercies each day. I don't know how to express my gratitude for those friends and comrades I have met here already. My incapacity for this springs from an excess, an overflow if you will. It wells up and all that comes out during the drawn out conversations and candid expressions may only be a smile or a word of acknowledgement. This only shows that I am learning to walk with plain feet and retreat from shadowy portions of mind which plague each of us. Bear with me, as I bear with you. We shall learn to fulfill the law of Christ.

Galatians 6:2

As I sign out of this post, I have just returned from a day of most historical proportions. More on the process, later. Never neglect the process. Its way of revealing character waxes each time a trial presents itself.

Grace and Peace.
En Xristo,
Alexander