I had a recent heart-to-heart with Kat about the many faces of Love. What do you do when unfortunate circumstances are greater than your ability to love? Your loved one walks out of your life and you are asked to walk away from Love. Through no fault of your own, though love is still very much present and your heart still craves love's return, you tell yourself that Love has failed you.
I tried my best to offer words of comfort and a sense of rationale - that reason does not always dictate Love's actions. In a perfect world, Love would be everything good, pure and beautiful and nothing would threaten it or taint it. Love would only know to grow stronger and deeper in two people and not lower its eyes to tomorrow. But, such is the uncertainty of Love and Life as we know it.
I believe that Love finds us for a reason - that its intent is honest and altruistic. It asks for nothing in return but for you to let love in so that you can come to know it and perhaps love it too. I have learned that there are no guarantees, only hard work and an open heart. There is always the possibility that Love will leave you for a time, but when it finds you again, whether it be the beginning, middle or end of your greater journey, it finds you with an even greater sense of purpose.
(Originally posted Monday, February 2, 2004)
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
It's strange how certain lines get blurred - even the ones we think are black and white can often take on different shades of gray. The more we try to decipher things, the more abstract they get. I'm a firm believer that the answers we crave the most are found within us, but we work on a system of selectivity. We block out certain things we don't want to face or admit to because it would be easier to live in ignorance - in the reality we cling to. It would be easier to submit to what we feel in the moment, whether it's a moment of pain, pleasure or self-doubt. We seemingly prolong the inevitable because of complacency or indifference. We bide our time with fillers, distractions, hesitation and resistance. We stay in the dark because ultimately, the search is a part of the journey. But we constantly shift. We drift between fleeting and enduring clarity. We slowly peel away the layers until there is no denying what is there. We move past the grays....And thus begins the great reveal.
(Originally posted Sunday, October 1, 2006)
(Originally posted Sunday, October 1, 2006)
Saturday, November 14, 2009
On Inspiration
When I was a little girl, just old enough to read, write and express my little-person thoughts, I loved capturing everything I could on paper. To record my life as it happened. To describe moments in time, feelings close to my heart, and general ideas about the bigger world out there. I wrote when I felt inspired, and for a curious little girl, there was never a shortage of inspiration.
Looking back, I (and some others) might even describe myself as peculiar. My sister caught me once in the middle of a conversation. I was talking to running water. She thought it was very strange behavior, and since I didn't know how to explain it so she would think otherwise, I let her believe I was a little strange, or peculiar. I suppose some children grow up talking to imaginary friends. I grew up talking to elements of nature.
For many years, one of my favorite confidantes was an oak tree that grew in our backyard. I would tell the oak tree about my fears and sadness, and magically, they would be carried away in the wind. Almost every night, for as long as I can remember, I sat by my window and said good night to my friend. I didn't think I was acting strange. I was just fascinated by nature and the cosmos. I was inspired. I still am and always will be.
Over the years, the conversations have grown fewer and quieter. We moved and I lost my spot by the window, including my beloved oak tree. I adopted a new backyard and a new window to the world. I found new inspirations in the classroom and in literature - in the poetic words of others. I discovered that ethereal wonders are limitless and can span many worlds. I got lost in my dreams at night and reveled in my waking dreams.
I write because it makes me happy. It is my safe place and one of my creative outlets. In some ways, it is also my connection to the bigger world. Writing becomes a conversation born from daily inspiration, so regardless of where I am in life, I feel compelled to look up to the sky, say a prayer to the moon and listen for a voice greater than my own.
Looking back, I (and some others) might even describe myself as peculiar. My sister caught me once in the middle of a conversation. I was talking to running water. She thought it was very strange behavior, and since I didn't know how to explain it so she would think otherwise, I let her believe I was a little strange, or peculiar. I suppose some children grow up talking to imaginary friends. I grew up talking to elements of nature.
For many years, one of my favorite confidantes was an oak tree that grew in our backyard. I would tell the oak tree about my fears and sadness, and magically, they would be carried away in the wind. Almost every night, for as long as I can remember, I sat by my window and said good night to my friend. I didn't think I was acting strange. I was just fascinated by nature and the cosmos. I was inspired. I still am and always will be.
Over the years, the conversations have grown fewer and quieter. We moved and I lost my spot by the window, including my beloved oak tree. I adopted a new backyard and a new window to the world. I found new inspirations in the classroom and in literature - in the poetic words of others. I discovered that ethereal wonders are limitless and can span many worlds. I got lost in my dreams at night and reveled in my waking dreams.
I write because it makes me happy. It is my safe place and one of my creative outlets. In some ways, it is also my connection to the bigger world. Writing becomes a conversation born from daily inspiration, so regardless of where I am in life, I feel compelled to look up to the sky, say a prayer to the moon and listen for a voice greater than my own.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Transitions
Some days I like walking down busy streets just to absorb some of the energy from the crowd. I pass many bustling restaurants and when I peer in, I'm reminded that I don't really miss the after-work crowds or that familiar habit of dining out. My life is now contently quiet. I've stepped away from that lifestyle, and I believe it has sparked lasting change in my life. Whereas I was once consumed by consumerism, I now live by the motto "less is more." I find satisfaction in clearing away clutter in my home and generally, in my life. I donate what I don't use or need, and I re-use as much as possible. When it comes to spending, I live conservatively. I adapt.
Sometimes it takes a drastic change to realize what you really value in life. It takes a shift in lifestyle to appreciate what you have instead of focusing on what you can attain next. And yet, I do try to stay in touch. When the mood strikes, I window-shop from time to time, but it's more about something to do, rather than something to want. Right now, I have this freedom. I can detach. And when the time comes to revisit the working world, I will choose when and how I will be a consumer. I will invest wisely and savor all that I've earned - and saved.
Sometimes it takes a drastic change to realize what you really value in life. It takes a shift in lifestyle to appreciate what you have instead of focusing on what you can attain next. And yet, I do try to stay in touch. When the mood strikes, I window-shop from time to time, but it's more about something to do, rather than something to want. Right now, I have this freedom. I can detach. And when the time comes to revisit the working world, I will choose when and how I will be a consumer. I will invest wisely and savor all that I've earned - and saved.
Monday, October 19, 2009
On Faith
A pastor once said people tend to live in a two dimensional world. That is, people often rely on what they can 1) see and 2) touch. He said this approach provides security and commonality for accepting the people and things around us. He said people often put their trust in what is tangible and what they're conditioned to know. He then spoke about a third dimension - living a life of faith.
In Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love," when asked what kind of God she believes in, Gilbert responds, "I believe in a magnificent God." I believe what propels religious seekers and spiritual seekers in their respective pursuits, is a form of faith. And what guides people through the everyday and the extraordinary is faith. I think living a life of faith is not about one's choice of religion, a function of worship or what others believe. It's individualistic, pure and part of one's inner conscience.
As a connection between the heart, psyche and soul, faith can manifest as a positive energy and a guiding light. It empowers people to let go of simple truths and surrender to the unknown - to embrace possibilities. Faith can be a thread into everything we do, and a path to unlocking individual potential. And sometimes, in our darkest hour, faith can help us realize incredible miracles.
In Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love," when asked what kind of God she believes in, Gilbert responds, "I believe in a magnificent God." I believe what propels religious seekers and spiritual seekers in their respective pursuits, is a form of faith. And what guides people through the everyday and the extraordinary is faith. I think living a life of faith is not about one's choice of religion, a function of worship or what others believe. It's individualistic, pure and part of one's inner conscience.
As a connection between the heart, psyche and soul, faith can manifest as a positive energy and a guiding light. It empowers people to let go of simple truths and surrender to the unknown - to embrace possibilities. Faith can be a thread into everything we do, and a path to unlocking individual potential. And sometimes, in our darkest hour, faith can help us realize incredible miracles.
Monday, October 5, 2009
On Waiting
We wait to be called on in class because it's the code of conduct. We wait for tea to steep because we look forward to that first soothing sip. We wait to be seated for dinner because it's 8:45pm and we've grown increasingly hungrier. We wait for the train that is always late to arrive because it's an inevitable part of our commute. We wait for the person on the other end of the line because we want and need to communicate.
For the optimistic at heart, waiting can create a healthy eagerness and an excitement. It can inspire us to move forward and allow us to embrace the journey. And even if the desired result isn't met, we are still grateful for the gift of time. In waiting, we gain a greater sense of self-awareness and perspective.
For others, the process of waiting can spur anxiety. We're in a hurry to anticipate what's next. We fill our time with pondering the possibilities. Sometimes, worry sets in for the unknown, and waiting begets impatience and frustration. The journey feels less fruitful and we become mired in fear for things that have yet to pass.
Waiting can be a choice or an infliction. Sometimes, we wait for something (or someone) that never comes because we are inherently hopeful creatures. We wait because it's the natural order of things.
For the optimistic at heart, waiting can create a healthy eagerness and an excitement. It can inspire us to move forward and allow us to embrace the journey. And even if the desired result isn't met, we are still grateful for the gift of time. In waiting, we gain a greater sense of self-awareness and perspective.
For others, the process of waiting can spur anxiety. We're in a hurry to anticipate what's next. We fill our time with pondering the possibilities. Sometimes, worry sets in for the unknown, and waiting begets impatience and frustration. The journey feels less fruitful and we become mired in fear for things that have yet to pass.
Waiting can be a choice or an infliction. Sometimes, we wait for something (or someone) that never comes because we are inherently hopeful creatures. We wait because it's the natural order of things.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Spring cleaning, spring forward
As I continue to clean out my closets and take stock of my possessions, I can't help but wonder how much of what I own is stuff I really need versus stuff I can live without. In college, the answer was simpler. Living in a 10x10 dorm room, I took the essentials - clothing, computer, bedding and bath, books and food. Everything else was a splurge item - TV, stereo, mini-fridge - a nice-to-have. Over the years, from apartment to apartment, I've amassed quite a collection of THINGS. Neatly organized in drawers, tucked away on shelves or hung on the wall, these things all have an intrinsic value beyond the monetary. But can I live without them? What would I grab if I had one chance to save something in a fire? The answer is my collection of journals (started at age 8) and sadly, everything else would perish in the flames.
And yet, I think the beauty and utility of things is that they can be replaced. They can be bought, traded and recycled. The common value they have is the purpose we assign to them, and the desirability we place on the item (how much of a nice-to-have it would be). Some things, we say, are irreplaceable because they are heirlooms, souvenirs and mementos of people and times past. We cherish these things because they prompt us to remember and to feel connected to life experiences. And when things are lost, destroyed or discarded, the memory we attach to the item stays intact. Its value remains unchanged. And to every place we go and whatever stage of life we're in, we're able to carry these memories...so even if our surroundings are unfamiliar and we are void of these material things, we can still feel like the richest person to have never owned a thing.
And yet, I think the beauty and utility of things is that they can be replaced. They can be bought, traded and recycled. The common value they have is the purpose we assign to them, and the desirability we place on the item (how much of a nice-to-have it would be). Some things, we say, are irreplaceable because they are heirlooms, souvenirs and mementos of people and times past. We cherish these things because they prompt us to remember and to feel connected to life experiences. And when things are lost, destroyed or discarded, the memory we attach to the item stays intact. Its value remains unchanged. And to every place we go and whatever stage of life we're in, we're able to carry these memories...so even if our surroundings are unfamiliar and we are void of these material things, we can still feel like the richest person to have never owned a thing.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
C'est la vie
On this particular Sunday, I found myself in Brooklyn Heights apartment-hunting with L. She had her eye on one sunny junior alcove studio and wanted a second opinion. We made our rounds in the 1960's era building, checking various for-sale units. I even whipped out my little-sister-with-bigger-presence questions on the friendly, semi-knowledgeable agents. I felt good about going along on the field trip even though I'm more of a Queens girl than a Brooklyn chick. We made a lot of progress and the next round of open houses wasn't until after 2pm, so we decided to grab some brunch.
At Lantern, we nabbed prime seats by the window because I wanted to enjoy the sunlight and see the passersby going about their Sunday. L and I talked about the apartments and how she loved this neighborhood. I told her I liked that the building is pet friendly because as Monty's godmother, she might need to take him in one day in the near future, or rather, I might need to entrust him in her care. She laughed, while I began to frown. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to heavy places and as I stared down at my eggs florentine, I began to cry. She asked if I wanted a piece of her french toast, and as I looked up at her (sniffling and blotting my tears), she cracked a smile and told me that it will be ok.
Falling back into little sister mode, I told L that I am facing so much uncertainty. And most of all, I am afraid my news - and me above all - will disappoint our parents. In their eyes, I am the one who always does what I want, says what I want and goes where I want - perhaps to their dismay, but always to my own beat. Sometimes, I think they see me as the irresponsible child because L is the practical daughter and S is the ambitious son. I'm just somewhere lost in the middle...a perennial drifter who did everything right growing up, but is still searching for her niche in life. For the first time in a long time, I felt disappointed in myself.
As I turned to the passersby on the sidewalk and blotted my tears, L said something completely unexpected...something I will always remember. She told me she wasn't worried about where I'll land because I've always been slightly ahead of the game. She told me I have always been the dreamer and the free-spirited one in the family and those can't be taken away. That they don't go away quietly, and I should be proud for following my own course in life. She jokingly said the family loves me despite my ways because that's what families do. She told me I will figure it out because that's what I do best, and as long as I continue to do what makes me happy, there is no disappointment in the end. Only. Dreams. Realized.
At Lantern, we nabbed prime seats by the window because I wanted to enjoy the sunlight and see the passersby going about their Sunday. L and I talked about the apartments and how she loved this neighborhood. I told her I liked that the building is pet friendly because as Monty's godmother, she might need to take him in one day in the near future, or rather, I might need to entrust him in her care. She laughed, while I began to frown. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to heavy places and as I stared down at my eggs florentine, I began to cry. She asked if I wanted a piece of her french toast, and as I looked up at her (sniffling and blotting my tears), she cracked a smile and told me that it will be ok.
Falling back into little sister mode, I told L that I am facing so much uncertainty. And most of all, I am afraid my news - and me above all - will disappoint our parents. In their eyes, I am the one who always does what I want, says what I want and goes where I want - perhaps to their dismay, but always to my own beat. Sometimes, I think they see me as the irresponsible child because L is the practical daughter and S is the ambitious son. I'm just somewhere lost in the middle...a perennial drifter who did everything right growing up, but is still searching for her niche in life. For the first time in a long time, I felt disappointed in myself.
As I turned to the passersby on the sidewalk and blotted my tears, L said something completely unexpected...something I will always remember. She told me she wasn't worried about where I'll land because I've always been slightly ahead of the game. She told me I have always been the dreamer and the free-spirited one in the family and those can't be taken away. That they don't go away quietly, and I should be proud for following my own course in life. She jokingly said the family loves me despite my ways because that's what families do. She told me I will figure it out because that's what I do best, and as long as I continue to do what makes me happy, there is no disappointment in the end. Only. Dreams. Realized.
Monday, January 19, 2009
They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. And when two people are separated, they are still connected by one moon in a constant sky.
They say some things are just written in the stars. And if we simply have faith, our dreams reveal itself when we least expect it.
They say love cannot exist without pain. And when that pain runs deep, it can awaken in the soul an even greater desire to love and be loved.
They say the cry of broken hearts can't be silenced. And when the heartache begins to settle, it can open the way for forgiveness and inspiration.
They say love has a way of finding us again. And when we think we have nothing more to give, love reminds us that sharing one's heart is the real gift.
They say some things are just written in the stars. And if we simply have faith, our dreams reveal itself when we least expect it.
They say love cannot exist without pain. And when that pain runs deep, it can awaken in the soul an even greater desire to love and be loved.
They say the cry of broken hearts can't be silenced. And when the heartache begins to settle, it can open the way for forgiveness and inspiration.
They say love has a way of finding us again. And when we think we have nothing more to give, love reminds us that sharing one's heart is the real gift.
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