Considering Meaninglessness

Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.
Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.
Don't even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic- decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in though the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.”
― Louise Erdrich

Blast From the Past

I was feeling quite down this morning, for no particular reason, but an accumulation of things that I had not been allowing myself to fully consider. I cried for the first time in quite a while, and although it felt good, I was annoyed that I couldn't seem to overcome the sadness.

Later that day, I was at work when a lady walked up to me with a very excited "Hi!" She wasn't just any lady, though, she was the mother of a very close childhood friend of mind. A friend who lived next door to me growing up and with whom I was inseparable. I have not seen or heard from any of their family in about four years, and a lot has changed for over these past four years. It was such a surreal experience to get reacquainted with a woman who was at one point a second mother to me, and who saw me as her third child, as she said. We filled each other in on the important parts of our lives, and I assured her that our family's loss has really changed us all for the better.

Afterward, in reflection, I realized something... We weren't really getting reacquainted. This was the first conversation I'd had with her as a true adult. We were no longer child and adult, we were equals. How amazing it felt to stumble upon such a wonderful blast from the past, and also to kick my sadness in the ass!

I felt so refreshed, so awake, and so alive.

2.24.2012

"Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known." 

-Winnie the Pooh

Where Am I?

I have to admit something: I have no idea why I am writing this blog.

That's one of my favorite things about my life, though. If I really listen to my heart, and pay attention to my instincts, I'll be led to do some things for seemingly no reason, and then later down the road I'll become aware of the beautiful reasons. I've learned the hard way that everything- EVERYTHING- happens for a reason. In fact, everything happens for many reasons. Maybe some day I'll be ready to share some of my experiences with this lesson... maybe not.

In the end, as you can see, I've decided to play out the 'blog' thing, with a large amount of curiosity to find out where it takes me and readiness to enjoy myself along the way.

But for today, I'd like to share a bit about myself-- as I have come to know myself during the past year-long determined, aggressive, heartbreaking, life-altering, lesson-learning, infinitely rewarding, and many times painful processes of learning how to be honest with myself.

• I am 22 years old, living in Ann Arbor (technically Ypsilanti, I guess), working at Trader Joe's, attending community college and ever... so... slowly... working toward a degree in psychology.
• I was born and raised in Traverse City, Michigan (if you've never heard of it, look it up, it's incredibly beautiful... although I am a bit biased) as the youngest of five children. It was an excellent place to grow up, and I can see why anyone would want to raise children there. However, it has a tendency to shelter them from other races, cultures, religions, life styles, ideas... etc. For these reasons I am eternally grateful that *something* finally pushed me into moving away.
• To say that I enjoy the outdoors, nature, animals, the earth, the universe, might be the biggest understatement I'll ever utter. Everything I do, say, think, feel, eat... Everything I am, everything you are, it is all one in the same, and the derivative is simple to me. I guess it's hard for me to explain! :)
• I believe that my physical feelings, my thoughts, my emotions, my chemical make-up, and my decisions are all much more linked together than we're used to believing. I believe that the more united these aspects become, the more whole we are- with ourselves, others, life, and the world. It's this belief that encourages me to live a healthy life-style in as many ways as I can. Ultimately, doing so leads me to a higher level of enjoyment.
• I believe that my judgments upon others serve little importance other than to teach me- and only me- some kind of lesson. I challenge you to pay attention, from an outside point of view, to the judgments you place on people throughout the day. And, more importantly, to figure out why whatever it is about them bothers you so much, while it effects you little to none. I'll bet it has something to do with the way you feel about yourself.
• I believe thinking for yourself is the only first step one can take toward true happiness.
• I do not fear death. I know, it's kind of weird. I guess it comes from taking classes in existentialism, and also because...
• Just over a year ago now, I experienced the loss of my eldest sister. There is truly something to be said about experiencing great loss... And those who have been through it know what I'm talking about. But that discussion is for another time. Watching and feeling her slip away from us in her last few weeks on earth was one of the most surreal experiences I'll ever have. While it broke my heart, to an extent which I'm still unable to express, it forced me to wake up, open my eyes, and start examining every part of myself and the life I was living. The lessons I've learned and still learn from my sister continue to amaze me every day.
• I believe that everything contains beauty. In fact, everything is beauty. If there is ever something ugly to me, it is because my eyes aren't adjusted quite right. Everything in this world has its place and its purpose, with the ultimate goal to bring endless opportunities for peace, love, and enlightenment to blossom within each living being. 
• I believe that love is the most beautiful of all things, and I'm certain I'm not the only one.

I hope that I'm able to somehow share and spread my love for life to even just one other person...

In the Beginning...

"So this might sound weird," I said to my brother during one of our many enjoyable conversations, "but I've started to see life kind of like a building..."

Let's say someone blindfolded you and took you through the front door of a building with no windows. You take your blindfold off, and start to take in your surroundings. You explore. You become familiar with all of the rooms; in fact, you end up spending so much time here that you begin to feel at home. Days pass, years pass. Every feature, every characteristic of the building is known to you... or so you think. One day, you see a door you haven't noticed yet. And when you open that door... a flight of stairs going upward. All this time, you thought you knew it all, only to realize you were missing out on another whole floor of your building. You climb the stairs- you learn your first big life lesson. You explore these second-floor rooms and become familiar with all it has to offer. This time you really do know it all. Until one day, you notice another hidden door... And another flight of stairs...

How many stories does your building have?

Mine's inifinite. Good thing I love climbing stairs! ;-)