getting high

Darling friends,

It's so easy for me to psychoanalyze everyone else--peel away their layers like the skin of an onion, exposing who they really are.   And yes, even sometimes then I still stay.  I have to live with myself forever, and so I hesitate to analyze myself.  But, last night, I think I did a pretty good job at unraveling a really crucial layer.  


Allow me to try and walk you through this. . . 


Happiness is a fleeting moment.
Inner joy is eternal.


I do not have inner joy.
So, I seek out happiness like a cocaine addict seeks out a high-- obsessively, anxiously.  It is all consuming. 


I act impulsively, always looking for that high, to suck in that temporary happiness--breathe it in, let it overwhelm my body--knowing fully that it will leave, and I will be left sullen, panicked, waiting for the next high.  


Therefore, when any opportunity comes my way, where there is the possibility of feeling that high. . . I take it, of course.  Sometimes, it is  self-detrimental, and I end up unraveling the tangled mess of my impulsivity.  Hurting myself, and hurting others.


The problem:  I do not know how to do it any other way.  I don't know how to find "inner joy," so I can stop seeking the happiness high.  I do not know, especially, how to find God.


Maybe, he is already carrying me.


Love Always,

it's 11:11

Dear friends,

I turn over at night, thinking, wishing, hoping, dreaming.  I toss and turn and turn and toss for hours. 11:11.  1:30.  3:30.  5:00.  The sun greets me waving its warming beams into my sheer curtains like some haunting of happiness.  


I just need a little more room to breathe.  I'm drowning, suffocating in the wild roller coaster of decisions.  I want to rip off the blinders, and be free.  Oh, freedom the little licks of you I taste on my tongue are so satisfying, so beautiful, so welcoming.  But, I choose the blinders don't I?  And then I laugh.  Oh, me.  You are so reckless.  You should wizen up--and then I don't.  Ignorance is bliss, so they say.  For a while it is, and then the daunting task of unraveling the tangled stings of a million dumb moments eats your heart out.  But, isn't it all worth it?  Sitting there detangling the strings, because sometimes they speak back.  Sometimes, maybe, it just might not be tumultuously dumb.  Or maybe it is more than just that.  More than black or white.  More than right or wrong.  But, some shade of effervescent gray.  My gray world.  


"In my big dreams I wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clovers."  ~something corporate. 


So, I just lay there. . . thinking, wishing, hoping, dreaming. . . wishing, wishing on a thousand universes.   And then the sun in it's warming light welcomes me--births me into the turbulent day, like a baby being welcomed into the world.  Damn you, light.  Sometimes I just want to lay there in the darkness of another night.

(photos by maria)

Good night,

flowers and magic and love and bliss

Darling friends,

I think I am afflicted with what some religious scholars refer to as "Slumber Party Theology."  When I think of God I think of butterflies, and love, and flowers, and happiness, and bliss, and life, and stars, and magic.  Yes, even magic.  I've never been "afraid" of God.  Am I supposed to be?  It's all over the Bible... it's all over church... the awesome fear of God.  But, do I fear God.  No.  I never have.  It's always flowers and magic and love and bliss.  

Is that why I have big dreams?  I am such a dreamer.  I want so much out of life--I want everything--so much in fact, I'd probably--realistically--have to live 10,000 lives to do everything I want to do, I want to be, I want to experience, everything I want to live, I want to love.  Oh, do I want to love, and be loved.  To feel the sun from both sides--the warmth--the heat--the fire, like a strike of lightening, blue energizing glow surrounding my soul, my body, my heart, me...me...me


Is this why I'm selfish?  Probably.  Because I want.  I want.  I want.  I need.  I.  I.  I.  And for God sakes...love! Ultimately in life, we act selfishly.  We do what suits our own lives.  Bless, with a thousand universes those who act out of pure selflessness.  I used to think I was selfless that I do everything for everyone else--and mostly I think I do.  But, when it's big enough, when push comes to shove I will act in my own best interest... and damn everything else!  

"It all goes away. Eventually, everything goes away."  So says Liz.  Yes, ultimately the good the bad...the long nights, the blissful days.  They end.  All of them.  Everything.  I close my fist hard around the good moments, and watch as the sweet sand slips through.  Always, always it fall through the cracks.


Today, I read:


"Nobody amongst us is shown the endgame.  Devotion is diligence without assurance.  Faith is a way of saying, 'Yes, I pre-accept the terms of the universe and I embrace in advance what I am presently incapable of understanding.  There's a reason we refer to 'leaps of faith'--because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable.... If faith were rational, it wouldn't be--by definition--faith.  Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch.  Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark.  If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be... a prudent insurance policy.  I just want God.  I want God inside me.  I want God to play with my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water."  ~Eat Pray Love 


So, God... carry me.  Dance inside my bloodstream.  While I don't want to know the endgame (because what fun would that be--after all).  I want some guidance.  I want you to help me cross that threshold into the joy of life, of living, of love, of adventure, of passion, of happiness... of bliss and butterflies and flowers and love and magic. 


Love Always,

who am I? I am That.

Dearest friends,

I've been questioning myself a lot lately.  I suppose the psychoanalysis classes I took in college don't help this situation much...or maybe they do.  I've kind of been on this roller coaster of emotions as of late, extreme bouts of happiness and then sadness and then hills of happiness again... and then oh look, plunge to sadness--where you want to throw your hands up in the air and say "woooo yeah, I am ready for this plunge," and then you end up chickening out.  But, oh,  once you hit that peak and your waaayyyy up there; the plunge is inevitable.  And the worst part--you see it. 

My mom seems to think that this is because happiness is fleeting--which it is--and that it is only when you have inner joy that you are truly "happy" all of the time.  Life isn't Disney World--of course.  And I mean, I know this.  She said sometimes it's as simple as telling yourself to be joyful.  But, I've tried like I'll get this burst of happiness and run out to go and get my Starbucks venti passion fruit iced tea, and I'm so happy, and then when it's gone I'm a little sad--not like someone died sad, but sad at the moment's end.  Or maybe disappointed is the better word?

So, I've been trying to discover who I am, which seems to be part of the key to "inner joy."  Who am I?  I have apparently no friggen clue.  I mean, I think I know, but then I start wondering if that's REALLY me or if that's society's influence on who I thought I should be... or is that really just a glimmer of my friends or my family, or whatever.  And I wonder if I'm so buried in this life that the REAL me will never "stand up."  Then, I start wondering if that's why I'm so attached to my name--my full name (first and last).  In my old relationship I explained that it would be difficult for me to change my name when I get married because it's me, and I'd probably go through this period of loss--and it made me panic a little inside.  Is this feeling because my name first, middle, last is the only thing I have to identify "me."  Because that's the ONLY thing I have concretely showing "this is me, this is who I am."  Maybe.  I don't know.  And then, when I'm thinking all these things I just want to tell my mind to shut up!  Like I don't care!  


My mom says I need to talk to God, apparently another key to "inner joy."  But, I really don't know how.  You would think talking to God would come naturally for me given the familial household in which I grew up.  Nope.  Aside from praying, usually selfishly, I really don't know what I'm doing.  So, I think tomorrow morning I'm going to meditate using a mantra.  Ham-sa.  Which in Sanskrit means "I am That."  Apparently, according to Liz  "Ham-sa is the most natural mantra, the one we are all given by God before birth.  It is the sound of our own breath....  As long as we live, every time we breathe in or out, we are repeating this mantra.  I am That.  I am with God.  I am an expression of God, I am not separate, I am not alone, I am not this limited illusion of an individual.  Meditate on whatever causes a revolution in your mind." 


Tomorrow, I go to war--with my mind.
Love Always, 

five years later

Dearest Brandon,


I didn't think I would be able to bring myself to write this post; I thought it would be too difficult, but I'm figuring as it is almost the end of July it is either now or never.  I'm sorry it took me so long.  

I cannot believe it was five years on July 10th, five years since the glass of invincibility I had lived my life under came shattering down.  Five years since I was given the heartbreaking news that you had been in a fatal car accident.  


We had a tumultuous relationship, you and I--one that was obviously not meant to be--full of drama, sorrow, extreme bliss, but one that also collapsed friendships.  The friendship between you and my sister is one that haunts her because she never was able to make peace with you.  I know though that you hear her.  

...because I know you hear me.   You know I struggle with death, and after-life, and all that comes to be--and you know it frightens me, but you help me.  The night you died I felt your presence in my bedroom, it was so strong, your presence there.  I knew, if I opened my eyes I would see you, but I was too afraid.  I squeezed them shut, and waited for your presence to pass because I was scared.  I recall how obvious the difference was to me--you being there and then you being gone.  How I've wanted many times over to go back to that moment and get one last glimpse of your dazzling face, and mostly the chance to say goodbye.  Perhaps, that is why you try and try again to reach me in my dreams.

I remember telling you once that my grandmother scares me when she visits me in dreams because she just appears.  And I know she's not supposed to really be there because she is not alive.  Is that why you call me before you come into my dreams?  So that I wont be frightened?  Thank you!  I love when you visit.  It's been a long time!  Come back soon!  The first time you visited my dreams, you called me to "warn me" you were coming.  Then, sat down to tell me you were alive and well... this gives me hope that we are alive in death--as paradoxical as that may seem.  

I'm writing this because it has been five years, and I want you to know that I think of you still... often.  Sometimes I feel your presence in my car, or I pass by the smell of your cologne and my pheromones go crazy.  I try to be still at these moments, and ever so quiet--listening, if only I could hear you.  On the 4th I drove up rt 30A... a place I had not been in a long, long time.  The wreath I made you is the only marker still left, hanging from the tree almost camouflaged into it--all the color gone from the flowers, and our pictures and notes disintegrated.  I'm glad I took a picture of the notes, so the memories linger long after they have been carried off by the wind. I looked at the wreath, marveled that it was still there, and promised to make you a new one.  Then, I prayed, silently--allowing myself to be overcome with emotion at this place where you took your last natural breath in life.  I allowed myself to be overcome with the love so many people once and still feel for you.

Be at peace my dear Brandon.
I love you always,

a letter to uganda

Dear friends,


Often in life we do things that help others: opening a door, smiling at someone, giving someone a hand with something, having a positive attitude in a bad situation (which happens to be my favorite).  Just as often we do things without ever knowing the impact of our actions--even sometimes the tiniest of acts can have the largest of impacts.  This is why it is with the utmost importance that we go through our days with joy at helping others through their life journey.  


One thing that I love participating in is child sponsorship through World Vision.
I sponsor four girls from all over the world:  Marcela from Chile, Riselda from Albania, Maria from Brazil and my latest sponsorship is Sawiya from Uganda.  


One of the greatest things about Sawiya is that Uganda allows packages, none of my other girls are able to receive anything larger than an envelope.  In the six years I've sponsored, I have only been able to write letters and put a sleeve of stickers or two in with my notes.  Sawiya is the first one I have been able to mail items to.  The day I sponsored her, which was the weekend before my sister's wedding, I drove to Target and bought a whole bunch of cute little girlie things to send her way.  I was overjoyed at buying these things for her, it boosted my spirits.  


In the box I placed:  two shirts, the one pictured here, and a yellow t-shirt with sequence on the shoulders, the hot pink skirt, a plaid dress, slippers, orange and pink flower bracelet, a package of underwear, two sets of flower stickers and a letter introducing myself to Sawiya as her sister in this life.




I finally was able to mail this package to Sawiya as well as a letter to Marcela (my first sponsor child) today!  I wish I could see her face when she opens them!  I hope it is "drenched with luminescence."  


Love Always,

luminescence

Darling friends,

I love how wonderful Eat Pray Love is.  There is something in nearly every "bead" that I want to share because her thought-provoking writing wanders my thoughts.

In her 39th bead Liz describes this Indian boy she meets at the Ashram where she studies.  She goes onto explain how he captured her attention and that she struggled to figure out what was so special about him.  She writes:  "Why was I so moved every time I saw his face--a face so drenched with luminescence it looked like he'd just come back from a long vacation in the Milky Way?  I finally asked another Indian teenager who he was.  She replied matter-of-factly: 'This is the son of one of the local shopkeepers.  His family is very poor.  The Guru invited him to say here.  When he plays the drums, you can hear God's voice.'"

"He who's face gives no light shall never become a star."  This passage reminded me of this very special quote that I love.  Having a face that gives off light, that is luminescent is very important... it draws people to you.  Light of any kind tends to attract, in general.  I started thinking about all of the experiences I've had where people have attracted me because of the light they give off, or have made me incandescently happy like an overdoes of endorphins--all because of this light.

...then I started thinking about my sister's wedding.  Part of the magic, and the effervescence that was contagious was the luminescence in her face.  She was on vacation in the Milky Way that day--and took us all with her.  

Be a light,

inventing characters

Dear Friends,

I began the journey into myself today!! I started Eat Pray Love, and I am amazed at how much it moves my thoughts and my spirit already.  I am only on page 18.  


I stopped literally in mid-sentence to blog about something Elizabeth Gilbert has written because I wonder if it reflects my own life, and my own question about the way that I handle relationships--something every single woman in the world regularly contemplates.  Of this, I am certain.

She writes:  "David and I met because he was performing in a play based on short stories I had written.  He was playing a character I had invented, which is somewhat telling.  In [this kind of] love it is always like this, isn't it?  ... We invent the characters of our partners, demanding that they be what we need of them, and then feeling devastated when they refuse to perform the role we created in the first place."


I took a step back from my book, and whispered aloud to myself "wow!"  I think I've done this in so many of my relationships--and I think the writer and dreamer in me is partially to blame.   First, I pick the wrong guy, the very wrong guy.  Then, I envision this person to be more than what I even know them to be--and I fall in love with my own fantasy of who they are. I wind up heart broken and ending relationships that weren't right because I created something that wasn't even there to begin with.  


But, the trouble is... I don't know how to do it any other way.  Though, I am determined to learn how.  


Love Always,

swimming the moat

darling friends,


"you need to swim the moat if you want to get to the castle."

I love movie previews.  There's a sense of anticipation of the future in watching them.  When I went to see Eclipse I saw the trailer for a movie that I'm sure will touch me.  Eat Pray Love, which not surprisingly was a  book before it was a major motion picture, is come to theaters in August.  I can't wait for it to come out.  While I think it preaches elements of Buddhism, the message in general, is beautiful.  I'm buying the book today!

The premise of the story is a woman lost, missing from her own life who finds herself through food, prayer, and love.  She travels to Italy, India, and ends her year in Bali, in a journey to the center of her life, to discovering who she really is--what is in the core of her soul.  How beautiful.  

       

                                       

                            r i s k    e v e r y t h i n g 

                                         and

                            l e t      y o u r s e l f     g o

 E   A   T

*have a relationship with your food.  Today, for lunch, I had my favorite guacamole, lime chips, and a tuna sandwich + peach!! It was physically filling.  And, I'm baking cookies later to bring with me to Long Island tomorrow =)

P  R  A  Y

*"If you could clear out all the space in your mind you know what the universe would do?  Rush in!"  Today, I prayed for trust.  It was spiritually filling.

The author of Eat Pray Love explained that you "need to find a tiny little corner of your life where you can begin to ask yourself those burning essential questions of your life.  Who am I?  Where am I going?  What am I here for?"  

L  O  V  E

*I snuggled with my dogs this morning for an extra half hour in bed.  It filled my heart.

"You don't need a man, baby, you need a champion."

      
I am  s t r o n g e r !

my   h  o  p  e

my   f  a  i  t  h

my   t  r  u  t  h

my   c  o  u  r  a  g  e

this is going to be a good life.  I promise.

Love Always,

a reservation

My Friends,


I watched Sense and Sensibility last night with mom.  It's not my favorite of the Austen stories, but I haven't seen it in a long time.  As a young girl, when I first discovered Jane, I remember not caring for this story--probably because, as I was reminded last night, it's not very exciting.  But, in my journey of self-discovery Jane's characters hit home.

I find that I relate to many of Jane Austen's characters especially Emma, but Marianne Dashwood and I are kindred spirits.  She is an open book, just like me.  It's a struggle for me not to share everything with anyone.  Her sister, Eleanor warns her about her inability to suppress her emotions.  She lays it all out there too quickly, allowing vulnerability to seep in at it's maximum. Oh, Marianne! you and me, we are very much the same.    


I do not possess the talent of leaving people wanting.   Apparently, it is better to be reserved, not give yourself away emotionally, leave people wondering about you.  Is it wrong that I don't?  I question whether or not I should try to be one of these people, but it is not who I really am.   Shouldn't I really just be myself?

I've concluded, while coming back to revisit this post before sending it out into blogland, that I'm frankly exhausted of trying, of being a chameleon, which is GREAT for my outgoing personality.  I can get along with just about anyone.  But, it's a problem because I think I've lost myself in all of the changing.  I mean, I know who I am, and deep down I haven't lost that, but I'm so tired of trying to be what I think everyone else wants me to be--or who I should be with, when I should be with him--or how I should act, where I should be in life at my age, how old I am vs how old I act, how invested I get in circumstances, what I do with my free time etc etc etc. So, I'm done.  I'm just done, and I'm just me.


Love Always,

to love is to burn

My dear friends,

Jane Austen really had it right.  She understood something that women in today's society just don't get--we aren't courageous, or don't have the self-confidence to truly comprehend our own hearts.  Jane lived in a world where women were dependent on men, and marrying well to ensure economic and social stability.  Marriages commonly took place not out of love, but convenience.  Yet, Jane Austen wrote stories about beautiful women who weren't afraid to hold out for true love... women who didn't succumb to societal expectations of marriage.  


"Can the soul really be satisfied with such polite affections?  To love is to burn--to be on fire." ~S&S


I love this line because when my sister got married, I described the way it felt to be around her and her husband like being close to a bonfire.  You could feel the rightness of it and the love like being close to raging flames.  I know couples where it's like standing next to a candle--there is fire, which you would assume creates warmth, but in such small quantities does not.

But, did you know Jane Austen herself never married?


I wonder if she wanted to, or if she just held out too long, or if maybe the kind of love she writes does not exist, except only in the quiet, deep chambers of our hearts.  I have wondered this myself before, though I do often conclude that it does exist.  It's kind of like believing in anything that is not tangible.  Like believing in Santa Clause or the Tooth Fairy--you want to, but... you grow up.


I am determined to not give into such pessimism.  


Love Always,