Endings and Beginnings

When I think back over this past year, it amazes me at the fullness of the experiences I have had. It has been a year of exhilaration and romance, a year of grief and tragedy, a year of awareness and growth. But most importantly, it has been a year of life. A year of living life and finding beauty in the moments. Learning from the past and looking with hope and anticipation toward the future. It has been a year of reflection and realization.

There are many people that have crossed the journey of my path throughout this year. Many that have been walking this journey with me for years, and also many that have only just begun to share in my journey. Each have engraved their own unique mark upon my soul, leaving me with an abundance of memories and an ever increasing appreciation for life and love.

This year has taught me myriad lessons. Lessons about life and death, lessons about forgiveness and honesty, lessons about love and commitment. It taught me the importance of friendships and the natural ebb and flow of all relationships. It taught me how to allow the ebb and flow to follow its own course and trust in the knowledge that the tide will return to the shore when its time has come. This year taught me that sometimes it takes a tragedy to remind us of the value of life and those we hold close to our hearts. It taught me that life offers no guarantees and that this moment is the only certainty. This year taught me the importance of patience, both with myself and with others. It taught me that loving others and loving myself are integral and intertwining pieces of life’s essence. This year taught me that letting go is sometimes the only way to find peace, but letting go does not mean giving up. It is only when we truly love something (someone) that we may allow ourselves to let go, trusting that life and God may eventually reunite us, if it is meant to be. This year taught me to use the past, both good and bad, as stepping stones for the future, to allow the experiences of my own past to guide the path for my present days and the days to come. This year taught me that happiness comes from within, that dreams should never be abandoned, and that the possibility of happily-ever-afters still does exist.

As I reflect back on the lessons this year has taught me, I am filled with gratitude and hope. Gratitude for the experiences and moments, and the overflowing beauty that has filled my days. Even in the midst of the storm, beauty has been, and can be, found. This year has offered me hope for the new year. Hope for the experiences and moments that will inevitably provide further glimpses of the beauty in this world.

As 2005 comes to an end and 2006 rushes to greet us, may we all be filled with peace and harmony. May we each recognize the importance of the past and the future, the endings and beginnings, and allow the tide the gently meet the shore at the stroke of midnight.

my gratitude to you

I often find myself thinking of how grateful I am for all of my friends in the world of blogging. The words of encouragement, the comments of support, and the many, many blogs of yours that serve as my daily inspiration…for all of this, I thank you. I thank each of you for taking me into your own personal journeys of inspiration and despair, heartaches and loneliness, happiness and elation. I thank you for offering a piece of yourself to be shared and for allowing me to share a small piece of your journey with you. There are many who have touched my heart.

To Baylor: My oldest, and most cherished, blogging friend. You introduced me to this world of kinship, and for that, I am forever grateful. Without you, my words would probably still be failing. Thank you for your encouragement, support, and most of all, your love. It has persisted through the good and bad, over many years of memories. May there be many more memories to come. I love you!

To Jessi: What a kindred spirit you are to me! Your writing is a constant reminder that my journey is not taken alone. As we walk along parallel paths, I think of you and Anu walking through the freshly falling snow and know that my own walk by the river is not so different. Perhaps one day we shall share steaming mugs of coffee and the celebration that we have survived, and succeeded. Lots of love to you!

To Amy: I found you while randomly browsing blogs, but what a gift your friendship has become. Your strength and courage, your honesty and openness, continue to serve as a beacon of light even in the darkest moments. Continue on, dear friend, and know that your journey shall never be taken alone.

To Wenda: You serve as my daily reminder of the importance of writing. Even when the words seem to fail, there is always something within us that begs to be let free. Your persistence and dedication are a continuous source of guidance. May your words continue to flow and your heart be filled with joy.

To Sky: My gratitude to you extends far beyond the world of blogging. You have been my rock, my fortress, my saving grace. My own words have formed over the years through the threads of creativity you have passed on to me. Through the kinship of blood and spirit, we have shared, and will continue to share, a bond that cannot be touched. I love you more than all the words written by all the bloggers in the world!

To Jeff: How grateful I am that our paths have once again crossed! Your words hold an exquisite and pure beauty unknown to many. What a treasure it is to read your messages of wisdom. What an honor to be allowed to share in your journey. For the inspiration you give, I am always grateful.

To Camel: Though you are my newest blog friend, I feel a connection to you that I hope continues to grow throughout the new year. I admire the raw and honest quality of your words…you are not alone in your feelings, though your courage and truth are far greater than most. May your words continue to inspire my own honesty, and may I offer you some inspiration as well…

To Baba: Without your patience and respect, I would never be able to indulge myself in the world of writing. Your constant words of support and encouragement allow my own words to flow with freedom and honesty. May both our spirits continue to grow in creative expression and may we always nurture the creativity of our souls. I love you!

To Mama Grace: My most avid reader and my biggest fan, you are the reason for my existence. You have nurtured me through years of happiness and pain, endured the emotional roller-coaster ride of my days. You have allowed me to write the words I could not say, to speak a truth deeper than what we choose to show the world. Through all of my journeys, I carry you with me. Your name says it all…my mama of grace!

To Annalise, Natasjia, Tammy, and Gillian: Each of you brings a unique piece of inspiration to me. From your tales of life in the “deep south” to your journeys in a city of international romance, from your remembrances of the importance of stillness to your sharing of the beauty of miracles….you have each touched my life, and my heart.

To all of you: May we all continue to share our journeys and know that we do not walk alone. Not in front, nor behind, may we all walk side by side.

I wish I could say...

I wish I could say that I’m sitting at a bay window, overlooking a frozen lake and watching the falling snowflakes bathing the world in white. I wish I could say that I’m writing something insightful and beautiful and deeply touching, as I peck away at the keys of an antique typewriter. I wish I could say that the lights are dimmed, and the scent of patchouli candles is mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I wish I could say that I hear the strains of Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra in the background as I get lost in a love before my time. I wish I could say that I’m sitting here wrapped in a hand-crocheted afghan of deep blues and stark whites, feeling the warm softness of its comfort draped about my shoulders. I wish I could tell you these things, as I sit and feel inspired by a place and time that is not my own.

girlfriends

Finals ended Thursday morning, and Thursday night was spent enjoying the company of my fellow doctors-to-be. Following a long evening of good food, good drinks, and lots of laughter, the remainder of the night and early morning hours were spent bonding with my two closest girlfriends. We laid in bed talking and laughing, reminiscing and planning, till daylight began drifting through the slatted blinds. We talked of our views on abortion and capital punishment, the ups and downs of romantic relationships, the need for independence as a woman, and the importance of female bonding. We talked of the latest Nip Tuck scandals and the breathtaking beauty of a shirtless Matthew McConaughey. We talked of the ever-increasing trend of anorexia and the wonders of loving our bodies despite the stretch marks (renamed “growth marks”) and the newly forming wrinkles. We recounted our stories of grieving the death of loved ones, of enduring bad breakups, and of falling in love. We talked of our curiosities, our dreams, and our disappointments. Exhaustion at last took control and we collapsed into the first peaceful sleep we’ve had in months, all three of us snuggled beneath piles of blankets in my old, weathered bed.

I didn’t realize how long it had been since I’d just spent time with girlfriends. School and work have consumed the majority of my life for the past few months, leaving little free time. And so when I found myself laughing and crying that night, lying in a heap on my bed with two of my newest best friends, I was overcome with feelings of gratitude. I was reminded of the simplicity of friendships and the comfort in just talking with my girlfriends. I was reminded of what friendship is really all about, and for a moment I forgot all the loneliness I’ve felt throughout these past several months. My advisor told me one day that the friends she made in her doctoral program have been her best friends throughout her life. These are the ones that were in her wedding, the ones that witnessed the birth of her daughter, the ones that she vacations with every summer. That night, I looked around the room and realized that these girls were those friends for me. Of course, my old friends will always still be there, their place in my heart will always remain. But as the days pass, and the experiences of my life change, I become ever more aware of the importance of friendships, the old and the new, and the value they both bring to my life.

Some of my girlfriends have been there since the days of my childhood, sharing a bond that began with innocence and a carefree nature. Others have been there since my college years, sharing a time of exuberant youth and vitality. Still others have been there for only a few months, walking by my side and offering comfort amidst a world of excruciating chaos.

No matter how long my girlfriends have been in my life, they will always be in my heart.

early morning dreams

In these early morning hours, I am yet again haunted by sleep’s evasion. I sit in my darkened room, listening to the icy rain beat upon the windows and the wind howling of its presence. I dream of far away places and recognize the hunger for adventure. The swelling passion to embark upon a journey of unknown destinations. In the darkness, my hunger grows and my dreams multiply. I am driving down an open road through barren desert, the mountains rising up in their magnificence behind me. I am standing on the ocean shore, breathing in the salty air and feeling the knowledge of a world far greater than my own. I am bathing in a waterfall, the natural waters dancing upon the warmth of my bare shoulders, reminding me of nature’s power and grace. Then the scene changes, the adventure becoming a companionship of warmth. I am lying by a fire, watching the snow fall in delicate sheets through a frosty window. My head is resting on his chest, and I am reading aloud the sensual romanticism of Neruda. In this dream, it is also the early morning hours, but sleep’s evasion is now a blessing, offering another moment of such pleasurable company. The wine flows freely, its warm richness soothing and sating the hunger.

“Pero tu y yo, amor mio, estamos juntos,
juntos desde la ropa a las raices,
juntos de otono, de agua, de caderas,
hasta ser solo tu, solo yo juntos.”

My eyes meet his, and the world fades away. The moment, our moment, is all that exists.

curiosity and the cat

The old adage says that curiosity killed the cat. But I wonder…was the cat happy before he died?

Curiosity pervades the human mind, and yet it proposes a dangerously thin wire upon which we walk. If we choose to ignore our curiosity, we never allow ourselves to take risks. If we never take risks, life would just be one boring, straight, road to nowhere. I imagine we would spend quite a great deal of time regretting the chances we did not take. And yet if we embrace our curiosities, we choose to enter an unknown territory of potential danger. So how do we reach a balance? How do we decide whether to acknowledge and entertain our curiosities or to deny and ignore them? Which path to choose…curiosity or safety?

There is no one right answer to the question. But I, for one, prefer to believe that the curious little cat died happy.

the river

Every day, on my way out into the world, I pass across the river. Every day, my eyes are captured by its rolling beauty, and I inhale a small breath of its offering. For the past nine months, I have crossed that river and I have watched its subtle alterations, embracing the inner changes in myself with the changing of the seasons. On my first passage, the river was just beginning to become alive. The waters barely swirled, gently grazing the surrounding miniature boulders. As the days passed, the sun’s reflection on the river brightened, mirroring a golden heat and a world of opportunity. For many months, I passed over the river and it appeared the same, calm and clear and shining with optimism. But eventually the storms came, and the river became fierce and intense, its darkened waters raging against the embankment. Those days, I passed over the river as quickly as I could, fearful of the rage with which it beckoned. But gradually its fury subsided and the view revealed a birth of rich, vibrant life. The waters glistened with newness and each day revealed an ever-changing vision of beautiful chaos. As my journeys have become more frequent, the river has again begun its change. These days, I cross the river and hear its delicate tears falling amidst the overhanging trees. Tears of happiness, tears of relief, tears of regret, and tears of grief. Some days, the river tells of a deep sorrow, its cries becoming louder and more demanding. But most days, like today, it tells of bittersweet memories and fragile hopes.

could you...

“Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that – I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much – so very much to learn…”
-The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath-

I am constantly reminded of how much left there is to learn in this world, in myself. And despite my colossal ignorance, I ache to be loved for me, for who I am now, a woman of both ideals and despair, a woman with so much left to learn. I yearn for these very parts of me, the unfinished pieces and immature unknowing aspects, to be loved. I crave recognition of the very core of who I am. I don’t ask for agreement, only acceptance, an attempt to understand, and the ideal that someone, somewhere, does understand. And yet these desires occur in a state of irony, amidst an internal battle of embracing my connections with others and the fears of revealing my naked soul. I wonder sometimes how raw and honest I can be about myself, with myself, with others. Honesty is often ugly and brutal and murderous, and so most in this world walk around covered in cloaks of disguise, wearing masks that have been worn for so long, too long. Masks, that should they be removed, might reveal unrecognizable faces or perhaps the absence of a face at all. I try to only wear my mask when it must be worn, in those times in which reality tells of the disturbing chaos that would result should I shed my mask. But there are times, even then, when I ache to rip off that mask and show my true face to the world, to myself. Times when I stifle the urge to scream and cry and expose the darkest secrets I hide even from myself. Times when desperation comes, when I need to tell the story of my anger and grief and guilt and disappointments.

But if I told you…could you understand me a little, love me a little?

fear or good sense?

There is so much I want to say, and yet...

the only path to serenity

“Fill your bowl to the brim
and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife
and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security
and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people’s approval
and you will be their prisoner.

Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.”

-An excerpt from Lao Tzu’s “Tao Te Ching” –

Today, the frustration has become unbearable, the stress rising to its height and refusing to fall. I have stared at this computer screen for endless hours, struggling to complete a task that is beyond my motivation or desire. And yet I have continued to force myself forward, trying to will myself to complete this necessary assignment. During yet another of my frequent breaks, I caught sight of this book lying on the floor and felt compelled to pick it up, in a desperate attempt to find solace. Lo and behold, I read this passage and my own feelings were put to words through the beauty of Chinese philosophy. From the words of Lao Tzu come the words to myself…

I shall fill my bowl
but not allow it to overflow.
I shall allow my knife
to become dull from time to time.
I shall just be
rather than chasing anything.
I shall care about all
and not judge nor be judged.

I shall do my work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.

this moment

I sit here, knowing that I should be writing my final paper for my personality assessment class. I should be deconstructing the complicated facets of this woman’s personality, delineating the integral parts of her history and proposing hypotheses about how she will function in the future because of this history. Yet, instead of doing this, I find myself consumed with a far more interesting story of one man’s history and the impact of that history on his future.

A dear friend wrote to me recently, telling me that I absolutely must get this book: “The Time Traveler’s Wife”. She described it as a phenomenal love story that traces the beauty of a love through the present, past, and future. In all honesty, when I picked up the book and read the back cover, it did not seem all that appealing to me. In fact, it just seemed rather strange and so far from reality that I was quite certain I wouldn’t find it nearly as enjoyable as she did. Nevertheless, I picked it up the other night, opened the cover, and began to read. After all, I needed a break from my incessant studying.

The first couple of chapters moved slowly, my uncertainty still remaining. But determination beat uncertainty and so I continued to read. By last night, I found myself engrossed in the emotional journey of this man and little girl that is his future wife. Something about the poetic lyricism of the words, the descriptions of their momentary encounters, and the mysterious enigma that surrounds the story of their life-long love….something about it grabbed at my heartstrings and has since refused to release its grasp.

Maybe it is the reminder I so desperately need right now. A reminder to stop, to breathe, to enjoy the moment, for the moment is all that we are guaranteed. Of course the paper will still have to be done, but for the moment, it can sit and wait. In the pages of this book, I have been reminded of life’s momentary joys and the precious gift of each moment. My past was what it was and it no longer exists, except in memories. My future is unknown. The only certainty of my life is the present. So for this moment, I shall stop, breathe, and enjoy the moment.

finding warmth

I heard from two friends today...one in Chicago and one in Baltimore. Both told of the freezing temperatures and the blankets of snow covering the ground. Even here, in the deep south, the air breathed with an icy briskness. But there is no snow here and I find myself jealous of the winter wonderlands in which they are immersed. My friend in Chicage wrote to me of the feeling of magic experienced when making fresh footprints along a sidewalk, how she felt almost omnipotent as she engraved the first mark, her mark, upon the city roads. She described the beauty of silence that has fallen in the midst of the blizzard. She wrote to me while sitting by a cafe window, eating hot soup and watching the snowflakes fall. As I read what she wrote, I longed to be there with her...to play in the snow, making child-like angels in the middle of a deserted street, to eat hot soup, to revel in the warmth of our friendship despite the bitter cold outside. Not much later, I heard from my friend in Baltimore. He also told of the brutal cold and the forecast for more snow. From a lonely room in a foreign city, he sat and wrote, words I have yet to read, but words that no doubt will bring comfort and inspiration. This friend, with a courage and strength far beyond what I have ever known. I thought of him and wanted to be there as well. I longed to walk the cold streets of this foreign city with him, discussing the intracacies of our separate lives, finding a warmth unfelt by far too many on this wintry night.
No matter how cold the world may feel, we can always find warmth in the company of friends.

struggling for inspiration

It seems that recently my life has been so consumed with schoolwork that my creativity has gone into hiding. And since I am determined not to write another entry on the stresses that accompany my academic life, I decided to do something a little different. Many of you with whom I communicate on here know little about me, lest what I reveal through my writings. And so I have chosen to do a sort of self-survey with a three-fold purpose. First, you will begin to learn more about who I am. Second, this little survey might potentially spark some hidden ember of my creativity. And lastly, for those of you who have been struggling with similar issues related to school vs. creativity, maybe it will spark some hidden facet of you as well. And please feel free to post your own responses, as I would love to learn more about each of you.

1. What brings you comfort?

ceramic mugs of steaming coffee, snuggling by a fireplace, hot baths, letters from old friends, pictures of my childhood, knitting a new scarf, my fuzzy black legwarmers, my Bed Buddy, the sight and smell of the ocean, puppy kisses, crying during sad movies, really good quotes, memories, sharing experiences with kindred spirits

2. What is one quote that has left a profound impact on your life?

“What you fear most has already happened.” - Annie G. Rogers, Ph.D.

3. What are three things on your life-list (list of things you want to do in this lifetime)?

publish a book, make a quilt, travel to italy

I intended to write a much longer list, but have found that my current exhaustion has limited my ability to even think in a coherent manner at this point. So much for my hopes of resulting inspiration…maybe tomorrow will reveal a refreshed mind, body, and spirit. Until then…

a dedication of memories

*Written December 2004 – To Shoobie….with love and memories*

-Open Country-

I dream of the open country
sight of surrounding mountains
with snow-capped peaks
brisk cold winter air
invigorating our spirits
as our journey begins
down through winding roads
of openness and red rock canyons
into an ancient town of
sparse people and endless nature
then further on
Southwestern charm
adobes with hand-made fireplaces
scent of burning embers
and the wisdom of the old world
through the endless miles of desert
crossing the border to
the lone star, state of place and mind
cowboy hats and songs of beginnings
leading us on to the bayou
music of jazz and art connoisseurs
romanced by the French hospitality
and love’s lingering plea
continues as we voyage
the forgotten towns of rural America
entering the realm of sunshine
eternal paradise of shore and sea
the Atlantic looms before us
with its dark waters and
mysterious callings to
at last arrive in this place
where familiarity conquers fear
and loneliness dissipates
no longer beauty of the unknown
but the comfort and beauty
of Home.

- This marks the one year anniversary of our journey into the unknown. The vivid memories still live within me, reminding me of the beauty of our dreams and the comfort of our friendship. Thank you for an ineffable experience. -

a spirit lifted

The motivation has returned. Though not in its entirety, it has been enough to keep me hopeful and focused. It is now 11 more days, and yet I have already experienced another fresh breath of sanity. Maybe it’s the magic of the holidays…the twinkling lights that have lit up my spirit much like the houses they adorn. Maybe it’s the comfort of my mama’s words…the warmth of her voice traveling across so many miles to soothe my fears. Maybe it’s the reassurance from friends…the comments of encouragement from kindred spirits near and not so near. Maybe it’s my own belief in myself…the result of my arduous journey to find happiness within. Quite likely…it’s a little piece of it all. Regardless the reason, the results have been refreshing. 3 more papers have dwindled to 1. The tree is now dressed in glittering orbs and childhood relics, the gifts lovingly wrapped and piled beneath it. The pager has been put to rest for another 5 days. And though the Christmas cards still wait to be filled with messages of love, though the classes and labs and finals still remain…I have managed to find a sense of peace and relief in the midst of the journey.

just a little overwhelmed

Fourteen more days. Four more classes. Three more papers. Three more finals. Two more labs. And then at last I may have one more fresh breath of sanity.
In the meantime, it seems my to-do list is increasing ten-fold by the day. My motivation has apparently gone into hiding, and so the schoolwork is struggling forward at a ridiculously slow pace. When I’m not in class, my beeper appears to be permanently attached to my hip, resulting in a constant reminder that even if my motivation suddenly returns, it may be interrupted at any moment by a call to some random emergency room. At that point, all thoughts of schoolwork must dissipate, as my sole focus becomes the suicidal patient sitting before me. Before I realize how quickly time has passed, I will find myself alone on a cold and desolate interstate, struggling to maintain consciousness as I journey the 45 minute trip back from the mountains. It’s 6 a.m. before I’m finally able to remove the batteries from my pager and lay down for a few hours of sleep. Then it’s up again, still no motivation, and the continuous struggle to complete an analysis of a very complex woman. I type a few sentences before I realize that my mind is focused more on the pile of gifts that need to be wrapped, the ornaments that still have yet to be hung on my pitifully bare tree, and the enormous piles of clothes that have covered my bedroom floor since last night’s closet collapse. Not to mention all the Christmas cards to be addressed, the stamps to be bought, the laundry begging to be acknowledged, the party plans to be finalized, and the fact that other than tuna and Doritos, my pantry is filled with only remnants of expired cereal and cans of spinach. Add on top of that the uterine cramps, tension headaches, and excessive fatigue, and I’d have to say I’m probably not the most pleasant company at the present time. Nevertheless, I shall persevere. The to-do list will gradually decline and in 14 days, I will again feel some semblance of sanity. Or at least a sense of relief.