Cumpleanos.

Birthdays are a wonderful thing. Not for the presents, but for the mere fact that it is a celebration of you being in this world. It is a time for you and everyone you know to rejoice in the fact that you have brought light and radiance to an otherwise dismal world. And while you share the day with thousands - perhaps millions - of other people in the world, it still feels like it is solely yours, and I think that's special.

For me, though, birthdays have always been bittersweet. As a child, I was most excited about getting presents. What kid wasn't? We're selfish and greedy (and some never grow out of that mindset), so all that we know is ourselves and what we want. But as I grew older, birthdays took on a different meaning for me. I don't know when it started, exactly, but at some point, it continually brought up thoughts of my birth mother. I used to ask my mom - and sometimes, I still do - whether or not my birth mother knew when my birthday was. Or if she thought of me at all. Or if she knew how old I was or was going to be. My mom always told me that there's no way for a woman to have a child and not know and remember all of these things. And while her words always brought solace to me, there was still this underlying twinge of doubt.

What if she really didn't remember? What if she didn't think of me at all? What if she had forced herself to forget giving birth to me or giving me up? What if she was dead? The last option gave me a sense of finality, at least, so I didn't have to wonder all of the time. If she's dead, she's dead - end of story. But all of those other thoughts? They tore me to the very core. The thought of being so thought-filled when it came to her, and to think of her not reciprocating that sort of emotion, ripped me apart. So while I smiled awkwardly as people sang "Happy Birthday" to me, I always had tears in my eyes at these swarming thoughts.

What if she had forgotten about me?

And now, I find myself six days away from my 23rd birthday. I can feel these thoughts tapping on my shoulder, beckoning me to turn around and weep at this hypothetical devastation. But I'm forcing myself to face forward. I've come to realize that if she has forgotten about me, then that's it. I cannot control her - I don't even know her. But even if I did, I wouldn't be able to control her thoughts or feelings or actions. They are hers, as mine are mine.

So, I'm taking five days off from work, starting on my birthday. I'm spending four of them with the one man who renews my faith in the world, in life, and in love, each and every day. I'm continuing to break out of my stage fright and singing a song of love and happiness at the store meeting on Sunday. I'm celebrating being alive. I'm celebrating having been born. I'm celebrating the fact that my birth mother, wherever she is, decided to give me up. I'm celebrating my life - what has come to pass and what will be in the future. I'm letting go of all of this pain and all of this fear and deciding that damn it - I'm worth it.

- May (you never forget to dance).

Brainwashing.

My brain is dead, after having written about 10 pages about the links between democracy and the media. I feel like I ended up going on a rant towards the end, about how the media is more or less making us all mindless, gray blobs. No one questions things. No one asks "why?" or "how?" anymore. People take things as fact, at face value, and are too lazy (and/or too apathetic) to do any more research.

I was watching videos about Shirley Phelps-Roper. I'm pretty sure I've talked about her before. But in case you don't know who she is, she's this insane, insane woman who is a part of the Westboro Baptist Church. The Church has about 100 members, mostly made up of her family. They protest and picket the funeral marches of soldiers who are killed in Iraq. They carry signs that say, "God Hates Fags" and "God Loves Dead Soldiers." They promote hatred and malice under God's name. They say that we sin by accepting homosexuality, and that's why people are killed. She believes that the young Amish girls who were shot to death last summer deserved to die -- not because they did anything wrong, necessarily, but because of Adam's Original Sin. And yet, she and her family are untouchable, because they're spreading this message and "enlightening" the world.

The liberal in me says that everyone is allowed to have his/her own opinion. And I believe that, though I don't agree with many of them. But there is such an extreme amount of variance in the human race that to say that everyone should think the same way is ridiculous. The Buddhist in me says to detach myself from what she says and to disassociate myself from such negative energy. The human in me becomes angry every time I hear her talk in such a way. It's a weird threeway tug-of-war that goes on inside of me at listening to this manic woman.

And then it makes me turn inward. What sort of things do I promote, and do I promote anything to such extreme levels? I examine myself and my life and my message. I can't imagine I've ever promoted hatred of any kind - and if I ever have, my Universe, I am sorry for it. I like to think that I would never intentionally do such a thing. And all of this introspection reminds me that I must live a life for love. For peace. For happiness. For energy. For balance. For myself. For others.

I try to channel the positive forces within me that tell me stay true to my Lo(ve)-Fi and Om tattoos. Receive love from other people (and do not be afraid of it) and send the signal back out, stronger. Even when forces against me are trying to steal it away. Stay balanced and in tune with myself and the rest of the Universe. Turn negatives into positives.

Be happy.

If I could somehow get this tattooed on my body, I would. The following excerpt, from Carl Sagan (1994), is one of my all-time favorites. It is based upon the picture below, a picture of earth taken from the edge of our galaxy.

Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

-- Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994

- May (you never be afraid of what's inside).

Renewal.

There's something that the very wise and very profound Jason Mraz said in a blog post a while back. He said something about how you have to look through the eyes of a hypothetical tourist - always seeing something as though it's for the first time. It keeps life interesting and keeps you in gratitude for being where you are at that particular moment in time. It keeps you IN that particular moment in time, period. Things look new. Things are exciting. Things are worthy of attention. There's no skimming through a town, letting the scenery around you blur into an obscure oblivion. You are there, and no where else.

It was such a simple, yet powerful suggestion for me. I've kept it in the back of my mind since I read it however many months ago. But it wasn't until recently that I started trying to put it into practice.

Every time I come home, I try to notice something different about my house, or my street, or my neighborhood. At least one thing, every time. Some of the thoughts I've had over the past few days have been the way the hedges by the kitchen window never really grow in quite right, or the hole that still remains from when my first dog, Freckles, ripped the soil out of the ground (I was about three at the time), or the little web a spider made on the lamp post by the driveway, or the way the houses around me have changed and morphed over time. And I try to make them insignificant things -- the types of things I would be looking for if I were in an alien place.

I've been trying to do it at work, too. I noticed the clicking of the doors as they open and close, the particular smell of computers and ipods and air conditioning that I remember from when I walked in for my first day back in September, the sound my Converse no-lace-ups make on the hardwood floor, the beeping of locker combinations and restricted-access rooms' key pads, sounds of laughter and of frustration, the random pictures that are scattered around.

Jason Mraz was onto something when he suggested this. Not only am I ever mindful in every moment that comes my way, I am grateful for every single one of them. Even the frustrating ones. Even the ones where my brain fizzles, and I swear I am on my last bit of hope for the human race. I am still grateful because I am still here. I am breathing. I can smile and I can love and I can laugh and I can hug.

I am alive.

Are you?

- May (you not only walk a mile in a stranger's shoes, but live a lifetime through his eyes).

Poetic Influence

I really need to start writing happier things.

The only problem with that is that I feel like I am most inspired to write when things are miserable. And that really bothers me. It's the Tortured Soul thing, I think. Angst and sadness are ultimate equalizers -- no matter your status, no matter your place along life's timeline, everyone has felt it. Everyone knows it. And everyone, to some degree, fears it. And I think that's why it attracts us. It's why we watch horror movies with the lights off or go on death-defying roller coasters. We're intrigued by that which scares us most. (Except if you're me and one of your biggest fears is clowns. Then, you avoid them like the freaking plague).

Sadness doesn't scare me anymore, though.

Well, I suppose that's not true. It scares me in so much that I am afraid of it consuming me. A little shedding of tears every so often isn't a bad thing. In fact, I think it's healthy and a requirement for staying balanced. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing, as they say. Plus, without bad things, we would never have any sort of gratitude for the good. So, getting sad every once in a while is something to be promoted. But I fear, sometimes, that if I let myself feel the healthy dose of sadness, I won't be able to come back out of it.

I often wonder if that's a normal thought for people who've had their ankles chained by depression in the past. I guess it's like an alcoholic, always afraid that s/he is going to fall victim to the enticing allure of a beer or a glass of wine. And I don't think it's letting one's self feel those things as it is not being able to stop. Having a beer with dinner isn't a big deal, but it's the gluttonous consumption of beer after beer after beer that alcoholics fear, I think. At least, that's what I imagine. And that's how I feel with sadness. I'm not afraid of letting some angst out if it strikes, but I'm afraid of not being able to shake it once the poetic flow has finished.

That being said, it does make for some good creative juice.

When my dad was in the hospital a few weeks ago, I felt like all my senses were incredibly heightened. I was so detached from my body that I almost felt omniscient. Like I could be in all places at all times. It was one of the strangest feelings I've ever experienced, and not one I really ever want to have again, but it made for some interesting writing. Here's my favorite piece (which is weird to think, that I like something enough to call it a favorite) that I wrote over those few days:

--------------

021010

it seems ridiculous to think
that there is a whole
world outside of these
poorly decorated
(my god, who chose
these works of "art?")
walls. businessmen and
women go about their
days: "did i wear the right
tie?" "do these shoes
match my skirt?" "what
will i get for dinner
tonight?"

and i am confined. i
avoid eye contact, but
my other senses are
heightened. a young
girl chews the gummy
worms that her mother
bought her because she
wouldn't stop crying in
the drug store. i can
hear every movement of
her jaw and every snap
of her saliva as she consumes
those soured creatures.
a man, waiting for
his wife to be released
(he silently prays
for good news) taps
his empty water cup
against the wooden
arm rest of these worn
down benches. the
receptionist finds a
routine in filing his
paperwork: stamp, fold,
staple, rustle, file. his
routine is interrupted
with passing doctors;
interns trying their
hardest to look like
they know what they're
doing; visitors unsure of
where to go but knowing
they've got a lot of
paperwork to sign.

how does the world
carry on outside of these
walls? doesn't it know
that everything hangs
on a thread? that one
slip of the scalpel will
change it all?

everyone here, tied by
something that no one
else knows, yet we
all understand:

let him be okay.
let her live. let him
make it through another
night. please, we haven't
said goodbye.

yet the world keeps
spinning, the world
keeps moving
and, prisoners of this
god-forsaken space, we
are no longer in it.

--------------

On that note, I think I am going to make a conscious effort to write at least one happy thing a day. I used to keep a gratitude journal, if any of you (... hello? Anyone out there? *tap tap* This thing on?) remember. I used to write down at least one thing for which to be grateful, each and every day. I think I need to start that up again. I'm trying to get back into my healthier, spiritual habits. I've been feeling out of touch for a while, and I need to reconnect.

So, here are my resolutions for the rest of the year (three months late isn't too bad, right?):

1. Start up/restart the Gratitude Journal.
2. Do at least a 1/2 hour of yoga, every single day, even if I'm exhausted.
3. Under absolutely NO circumstances am I to eat fast food. Ever.
4. Look for healthy alternatives to the things I eat.
5. Get some raw food/vegetarian cookbooks and try to make at least one entree a week.
6. Meditate for 15 minutes every day. Repeat as necessary.
7. No more coffee! Tea is all right (it's the Brit in me).
8. Try to cut back on snacking. It has always been my downfall.
9. Find a Buddhist temple and actually attend some kind of gathering.
10. Pick a date, pick a destination, and save up for a trip I've always wanted to go on.

Ten things, but I think they're all doable.

It's never too late to start over, right?

- May (you be determined to live a happy life).

Bi-Polar.

No, really. Sometimes I think I am.

I can point to a multitude of things for the reason: hormones, amount of sleep (or, usually, lack thereof), my typically fickle, scattered, Gemini nature. It's no surprise that I'll often point to the latter of the three. While I don't think that life and decisions can be made or altered based on how the constellations are arranged, I do think they help explain things we can't otherwise understand.

There's an astrology book that my grandma has in her house. It used to belong to her closest, dearest friend, Alice (after whom I get half of my full name), who was very much into astrology and things. It goes through each Zodiac sign, then breaks it down further into, for example, Gemini Man, Gemini Woman, Gemini Child, Gemini Employee, Gemini Boss. There may be another category or two tossed in there, but you get the idea.

I was attracted to the book, initially, because of the plastic, textured cover my Aunt Alice had put over it. I remember skimming the bookshelves and my eye immediately falling upon the red and black swirls. It was almost a paisley pattern. And then I became more interested in what the book was saying. I remember reading the Gemini child and feeling like, for once, someone actually understood me. Right down to the very suggestion of having a wrist-leash (yes, I was that kid in the mall). Things suddenly made sense. No wonder I was still exhausted after sleeping -- my brain never shuts off because I'm always thinking, always inquisitive, always pondering and reflecting. I find it's still true to this day. I could sleep for days but still feel mentally drained. Things related to the vocal chords and communication come naturally to me -- well, that certainly makes sense as Mercury is my ruling planet, otherwise known as Hermes, messenger to the gods. We're writers, speakers, talkers, chat-your-ear-off-ers. All of the above, and then some.

We're destined to live a life of searching. Geminis are air signs, as all zodiac signs are linked to some kind of natural element. Scorpio and Pisces, for example, are water signs. Capricorns are earth signs. And so on. Anyway, just as air is constantly moving, constantly finding new directions and new ways in which to get from place to place, so do Geminis. And I often feel that way, that I'm fated to live a life of curiosity. A life of wonderment.

Sometimes, it's frustrating. Sometimes, I want to have my life planned out. I want to know that I'll be doing Job A for the rest of my life. Things would be, I think, simpler in a lot of ways if that were the case. At the same time, I know how I get when I find myself stuck in a routine. This is also something that the book mentions. Routines drive me crazy. And when I say crazy, I mean sheer lunacy. The idea of doing the same thing every single day, with no variation, depresses me just with the thought. And, if that routine is combined with a stifling oppression of creativity, you might as well chuck me in a pine box and bury me. I won't be able to last longer than a breath in that kind of environment.

But I didn't write this to get hung up on Zodiacs. I wrote this to talk about my changing moods. There is a tie-in, that Geminis are Twins. In other words, we can go from happy to sad seemingly without reason. And while I'd love to constantly point the finger at the sparkling configurations overhead, I know that the responsibility does not lie with them. I think it's simply who I am.

I need to learn to better control my moods. Figure out when they happen, what triggers them, how to make them change (if it's a bad sort of mood, that is). I need to find my way back to how I was last summer. I need to cry every day not because I'm sad, but because I'm overcome with joy. I need to find that balance and peace with the universe and the unknown.

I had the Om put at the base of my neck in the hopes of opening and calling upon my Vishuddha chakra (turns positives into negatives, sees every experience as something to be learned, opens up creativity, etc.) .. It seemed to have worked for a little while. And then I think I started ignoring it, started falling back into my old ways.

Well, I'm done with it. I'm done with all of the garbage that I had gotten rid of last year. This is a fresh start. I've another day, another gift with which I can do whatever I please. I have the freedom of deciding who I want to be and where I want to be it. I can do something spectacular, something beautiful, something kind and compassionate, every single day of my life. And I want to. I want to do all of those things.

It's about time I started.

- May (you stop looking for excuses).

Tune-age.

Do I even need to explain this one?

--------------------

Someday I'm gonna go out to the country.
I'll drive 'til the highway ends,
Chasing after picture perfect sunsets
To take away my breath.
I'm tired of living in the city.
The world's got me tied on a string.
Wanderlust has overcome me.
Like Lewis and Clark, I'll dream.
There's a million different ways to go,
Only God can know where I will call my home.

Love lead me on
Where no one else has gone.
Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me on.

The open road can be so lonely.
I'm longing for someone to love.
If only I could share my new surroundings,
Open the doors above.
There's a million different ways to go,
Only God can know where I will call my home.

Love lead me on
Where no one else has gone.
Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me on.

Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me home.

--------------------

I realize, in retrospect, that there's a heavy religious theme in this song. I also realize, after listening to more of The Afters (and looking at the Genre column in my iTunes that I casually ignored before), that they're a Christian band.

If anyone reading this (yes, I'm talking about you, lone reader ..) knows me, though, he or she will know that religion isn't really my thing.

Regardless of their religious affiliation, I dig their sound. They remind me a bit of Snow Patrol with the softer side of Something Corporate with a dash of The Hereafter and .. maybe the melancholy aspect of Coldplay. The lead singer's voice reminds me of someone else, but I can't pinpoint who. Anyway, they're good. Check out their most popular song, "Beautiful Love." It's one of my favorites. The acoustic version is wonderful!

As for the song above, I simply meant it for the latter part of that first verse, about wanderlust.

That may be my new-old favorite word. Wanderlust.

Wanderlust. Wanderlust. Wanderlust.

It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

- May (you search for deeper meaning).

Catch Up.

I've been thinking about a lot of things lately. Sometimes they're mundane and non-sensical, sometimes they're fleeting and amusing, sometimes they're sad and dreary, sometimes they're angry. I've had a myriad of different emotions constantly swirling around in my head, like an uncontrollable cyclone.

It's nothing I'm not used to.

One of the strongest thoughts I've had is how influential one's state of mind is on one's physical health. Through no one's fault but my own, I was struggling with some personal issues that are now starting to resolve themselves, but it brought my mood down quite a bit. I had fallen off the vegetarian wagon and stopped eating as healthy as I had for the majority of last year; I stopped my daily coconut water + Vitamineral Green combination; I was fighting with family members more often; I was finding myself sinking in the quicksand of my identity crisis that I had managed to deal with for a while. All of these things led to me feeling down on myself.

When I was eating right, meditating and yoga-ing on a daily basis, I can't even tell you when I got sick. Over a large span of time. My immune system was perky and doing well and fighting the good fight. As soon as my mood started slipping, my sinuses explode and my nose gets clogged. In other words, my body rebelled to the bad decisions I was making.

Okay, okay, Body. I get the hint. I promise. I made those New Year's Resolutions for a reason. I promise I'll stick with them. Please, can't we get along like we used to?

Anyway, it's just another little reminder of how interconnected things really are in the universe, in the world, in our lives, and in our bodies.

Symbiotic.

Another thought I've had was wondering where I'm going to end up.

I like the freedom and I like the ability to leave it up to chance (though, really, let's be honest .. is anything really accidental?). I like being able to say, "I don't know where I'll be, but I hope I like it."

I like being able to have grand dreams of waking up on a beach in San Diego, going out for a surfing lesson (years after my first lesson, I will still be too afraid of standing on the board), catching some grub at a Vegan and/or Raw Food cafe, and relaxing my weekends away with friends, some beer, and maybe a communal cook-out.

Simultaneously, I like being able to have the same grand dreams, only in England, trotting down the stairs from my East London flat, walking to the Tube, and hitting up the Victoria and Albert or the Tate Modern, sharing a few shouts at the local with some mates, and coming home to my faithful retired greyhound.

I like being able to have both of those visions in my head, without any sort of competition between the two. Without any real obligation to either of them, even. I like having them both floating about in my cranial space.

But, at the same time, I kind of wish I had something more solid. Sometimes, I wish I could answer with conviction when someone asks me, "So, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?" or "Where do you see yourself in five years?" My usual answer is, "I want to be happy," to both of those. And while I think that's adequate (albeit vague), sometimes I wish I had a little something more to fall back upon.

Sometimes, I don't think I'm destined to really stick around one place for too long. I've already spent close to 23 years living in New York, with a few travels here and there. I can feel my palms starting to itch, my legs starting to quiver, my breath starting to quicken.

I feel like I'm on the brink of something big.

I don't know what it is.

But I'm excited to find out.

- May (you never lose your thirst for discovery).

Adoption

I know it's been months. Many things have happened between then and now. Some were wonderful (many, most were wonderful), some were bad. Either way, life goes on and I am still here.

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of my adoption. I always write something around this time, usually poetry, and this year is no exception. I wrote two; one is rather sad, one is more accepting.

The spacing won't come out properly here, so I'm including a link to download the files at the end (there are two versions of each: one is a Pages document for all you iWork users, the other is a Microsoft Word document for everyone else).

----------------------

“January 15th”

one would figure.
in any other situation, it would
be more than(though
maybe just enough)adequate. one would

figure that something closely resembling
ELEVEN MILLION minutes(yes, you did,
indeed,
read that correctly)would give one(or two,
maybe three or four, if

you were daring)direction.

if not
direction,
then at least enough time to
hunt
down and locate a poorly-drawn map.

but these roads are many.
these roads are dimly lit(sometimes not at all).

dead ends are perpetual. i turn and walk yet
somehow end up back to where this involuntary

journey began. always back to her.

always in search of
HER.
i do not know her name. i do not know her face.
i do not remember the sweet words she may have sung
when my heart was not yet capable of gratitude(how

i curse it to this
very
moment).

i always imagine gazing into dark, dark eyes,
red-rimmed,
trying their hardest to avoid my own.

did i look at you, knowing they would soon
forget(how i wish i didn’t
forget)?

did they promise loyalty in return for yours?

how i wish i could have begged;
i would have pleaded, “my heart will be yours

if you keep me but a moment longer.” but i would
have promised you the moon if it
meant that you would love me.

do you love me now? from
across the
distant(so very
distant)sea?

our world, once together, now separated
by a pool of the Universe’s saline sadness.

there is no map to you.
i do not know where(who, what, why)i am.

PLEASE.

keep me but a moment longer;
i promise i will love you as i tried to eleven million minutes ago,
i promise i will remember,
i promise i will smile,

if you would only promise
to guide me back

to you.


----------------------

"January 15th, Part 2"

every thought
look
melody
question:
a boat

in which i am held captive,
in which i have

no c h o i c e but to

float

back to you.

accusations of false information(because
i am ultimately untrustworthy)from
mouths too

god damn

ignorant to fully
comprehend this from that,
those from these;

they are the worst and they are frequent.
they are the titantic of all vessels:

impossible
to ignore.
impossible
to forget.

tragic.
devastating.
but
somehow
beautiful.

i have started to believe that you are nothing

more
than something i have conjured(many things
are elusive fabrications)in this tangled web-mind
i have been bles(burdened)sed with.

yet logic and the universe tell me
that you must have

existed,

even if only for a moment.

i will

exhale my
breath,

pour out my
love,
bleed my eyes
dry,

so that each may fill a tiny
paper
boat;

i will

set each on a sheet of liquid glass,
salty and unclean and unknown
beyond
these shores of home;

and pray that they will find you,
pray that you will see them,

pray that you will know,
pray that you will remember(do these thoughts

haunt you when you wake?),


and learn
to let

you go.

----------------------

And, as promised, here is the link to download to see the proper spacing and formatting and things: poetry folder at box.net.

- May (you expect the unexpected, always).

Was That There Before?

So, yesterday, my Facebook wife and I grabbed some Thai food. As we were waiting for our food to be made, we decided to take a walk up and down Main Street in that particular town. On our way back to the store, we stumbled upon this little park that's apparently been in existence for two years. Neither of us had ever seen it before -- and I drive up and down that road a lot.



The park was small, but beautiful. It had plaques with different etchings on it as you entered, and an obelisk fountain in the middle.



We took some pictures around the park, enjoying the brisk breeze and sunlight we'd been blessed with. It seemed like such a quiet little oasis in the middle of a bustling street, right in a town that's been trying to build itself up for years. New restaurants keep popping all over, new places with owners who are hopeful and praying their business sticks.



And as we left and walked back to the Thai restaurant (yummy green beans with garlic, tofu, and scallions for me and chicken pad Thai for her!), I couldn't help but wonder what else I'd been missing in my constant jet-setting pace of life. The park was so unassuming that I'd never even noticed before -- not once in the two years of driving back and forth on that road. And the park wasn't small enough to really be missed. What else was I not seeing?



I was reminded of what Jason Mraz often quotes as his favorite song:

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.

So, I ask you -- what are you missing? What have you been blinded to in your need to reach your next destination? A friendship, maybe? Or perhaps love. Stop speed-boating down the stream and take the time to simply row.

This life is but a dream -- before you know it, it'll be over. What will you remember?



- May (you open your eyes).

Reconciling Possibilty

Funny the way it is, if you think about it:
Somebody's going hungry and someone else is eating out.
Funny the way it is, not right or wrong.
Somebody's heart is broken and it becomes your favorite song.

My thoughts always seem to jump from one topic to the next, like a skilled acrobat in some circus production I don't quite understand. Maybe it's the Cirque du Soleil of the mind that I'm viewing. The colors and movements are beautiful, fluid, but when it comes down to it -- it's a little too abstract to fully grasp. Maybe I'm not supposed to grasp it. Maybe I'm merely meant to be grateful to have thoughts at all.

Still, it makes me wonder. What I think about sometimes is what makes one person more fortunate than another? Why was I saved from what could have been a life of poverty, hunger, and despair when there are children who weren't saved? Why do I get paid to sit on the computer and answer phones when there are people who can't even imagine what a computer is? When there are people who've lost their jobs and are struggling to stay afloat? Why do I complain about different foods that I don't like to eat (namely, seafood) when there are children who haven't eaten in days?

What and where is the thread that separates the two worlds?

Funny the way it is, if you think about it:
One kid walks 10 miles to school, another's dropping out.
Funny the way it is, not right or wrong.
On a soldier's last breath, his baby's being born.

Perhaps we're not meant to know. I do think that a part of this life is the idea that we're meant to discover. We're meant to explore. We're meant to find the answers for ourselves. And maybe we'll never really find them. Maybe they will always elude us, like wisps of smoke. Maybe no matter how hard you try to curl your fingers around them, they will always seep through our grasp.

And, more importantly, maybe that's okay.

Maybe that's the Universe's way of telling us that there is always a reason to stay humble.

We are so insignificant when it boils down to it: we've been on earth for the shortest amount of time in comparison with animals, trees, and other means of life; no matter our technology, countries and people are still devastated by natural disasters; no matter what we do to try and stop those disasters, we cannot control Gaia when she's angry; we are easily swallowed up in the ocean, which is home to so many creatures that have adapted and evolved to live there, yet people still drown; despite our attempts to control and "domesticate" animals, they will always be higher than us on the food chain (think: tiger, lion, alligator, etc.); and we have been searching for the answers to life's biggest questions since the time of the Greek Philosophers but have come up with nothing.

I think a part of that is the fact that it depends upon your perception. The diversity amongst people is easily seen -- differences in tastes in movies, music, books; family traditions; differences between geographical location; varying accents; and so on and so forth. What I consider to be living "The Good Life" may not be what someone else considers. Someone may consider "The Good Life" only having the biggest house, the fastest cars, and the most expensive accessories. Others may consider it to be family and friends, to hell with the possessions.

But I think that, big or small, red or blue, here or there, we're all asking the same question: why?

Standing on a bridge, watch the water passing under me.
It must've been much harder when there was no bridge, just water.
Now the world is small.
Remember how it used to be with
Mountains and oceans and winters and rivers and stars?

I don't have an answer. I don't know why I was fortunate in ways when others weren't. I don't know why I am spoiled with air conditioning, technology, food when I'm hungry, a bed when I'm tired, a home to go back to at the end of the day. I don't know. But when and if I figure it out, I'll let you know.

Watch the sky, the jet planes, so far out of my reach
Is there someone up there looking down on me?

- May (you never stop wondering).

[Bolded text from "Funny the Way It Is," by Dave Matthews Band]

Skeptics, sceptics, stop!

For any of you skeptics out there who are thinking to yourself, "There's no way that sort of positive shit works. It's a load of crap. The Universe can't 'reciprocate' whatever you give it. Life doesn't work that way," I'm going to share with you some recent examples from my life to show you that it's true.

I found out not too long ago that the job I have right now working as an Office Assistant is going to terminate. The program doesn't have enough funding to keep me on at $17.50/hour, so rather than cutting a position that's absolutely vital to the smooth running of the program, they cut mine. I wasn't upset -- I knew it was coming. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what I was going to do for a job. I couldn't not work for long.

The Associate Dean of the program sat me down in his office and told me that his wife, who works at Columbia University, was creating a new position that he wanted to recommend me for. It would be on the Level 10 or 11 pay (somewhere around $45 - $49k a year) and would consist mainly of clerical things, helping to implement new programs at the school, researching, etc. All of the stuff that I pretty much do at my current job. I quickly got caught up in the idea of becoming a full-time employee at what used to be my dream school. My mom and I had a huge fight about it -- the biggest we've probably had -- but I gave him my resume anyway, just to keep my options open.

Then I remembered that, back in July, a woman from Apple had emailed me to tell me they were considering me for a job. At that time, though, I was already employed and had to turn down the only job I'd ever really wanted. As I remember, I was devastated. She told me to get back in touch with her when this job terminated, though, so I sent her an email to see if she would still consider me.

Another woman wrote me back the next day to tell me that they wanted to set up a phone interview. We chatted briefly on the phone and then she asked me to come into the store a little before closing last night for a formal interview with another candidate. Obviously, I said yes.

All day yesterday, I was bouncing around, excited as all hell. After I had calmed down, I really thought about the situation. While I had been upset, of course, that my job was going to end, I kept my mind open to any other possibility. I told myself, and convinced myself, that I would find another job. That the Universe would help me find the next step. And that, by the time classes started up in September, I would be employed.

Of course, the Universe listened -- and, what's more, it delivered. When one door closes, the Universe opens a window, right?

I stayed positive after the interview, even though there was a large part of me that was doubtful. I made that part of me shut up because it was hindering my ability to tell the Universe what I wanted. I said to myself that I got the job, that I was going to hear back and they were going to tell me I was hired. I said to myself that the interview went well, despite any of the doubts I may have had, and that I had made a good impression on the woman.

Sure enough, this morning I received a call from the Store Manager who told me he wanted me to come in and sign paper work. He said he was getting a little ahead of himself with the paper work, but it wouldn't hurt to get it all done. I told my boss and asked to leave early -- at seeing how deliriously excited I was, she obviously agreed.

As I sit in my living room, 1 step away from being a legitimate Apple employee (they need to do a background check first), I can honestly say that YES, the Universe does reciprocate what you ask of it. But it's not enough just to say, "I hope I get this" or "I really wish I had that." You have to tell yourself, "I will get this" and "I will have that." I told myself that I was going to get this job. I was going to be hired by the one company I want to work for. I was going to celebrate on Sunday with a newly formed friend. I was going to have good news for everyone in my family and my friends. And sure enough, here I am, unable to stop smiling with sore eyes from crying tears of pure joy.

So, the next time you think that life is full of problems and full of struggle, ask yourself what you're doing to change it. Are you doing anything at all? It's not enough to wish for something. It's not enough to complain about something. If you think negatively, you will draw negativity to you. If you think pessimistically, you will draw in despair and depression. You have to actively take part in making the changes, in achieving your goals, in doing whatever it is you want to do. You'll be amazed at how your world opens up.

The Universe is knocking. Are you going to answer?



- May (you have the courage to start over again).