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).

Parallels

There have been two days over the past seven that I've found myself passing the motorcade for a funeral. And each time that I have, I've always said a small prayer to the Universe to bring healing to the families, to give thanks for the fact that I am not a part of the sorrow at this present moment, and to give strength to those around the world who are dealing with death. The weird thing to me is that both times have been on incredibly beautiful days -- full of warmth and sunshine. I don't usually understand what's going on when I find myself behind the last car in the motorcade, getting annoyed at his slow pace and hazards on. With my music blasting, my windows down, and my hair a mess, I change lanes so that I can get around the tortoise-paced person in front of me, thinking that perhaps he has to go slow because he has a dresser in his trunk or something. And then I see the whole line of slow-moving cars, hazards on, and I understand. I turn my music down. I don't speak a word. And I say my prayers to the Universe.

It usually takes me time to even want to put my music back up. I feel -- disrespectful, I suppose, in not being somber when there are people who are mourning the loss of a loved one. And then I realize that it happens every second of every day, somewhere in the world. Over and over and over again. Rather than making me sad, though, I am all the more determined to live a good life. To enjoy the people in it. To love fully and on purpose. To be compassionate to someone I may not have been compassionate to otherwise. To smile every day. To laugh every day. To cherish every second that I have. Because someday, I will be in the first car of that funeral motorcade -- except that I will wante everyone to have the windows down and music up, laughing and smiling along the way.

- May (you live with purpose).

When There's Nothing Left to Burn ...

... You Must Set Yourself On Fire.

I've become obsessed with this song from the band Stars. It's called "Your Ex-Lover is Dead." It combines a myriad of instruments, which always makes me fall in love with a song. Always. They're introduced gradually, too, and there are lots of crescendos and decrescendos. It brings out my inner band geek.

Anyway, the song makes feel all kinds of -- melancholy. With twinges of something else. There may be a glimmer of happiness in there, for some strange reason or another, but generally, the tone of the song is one of longing, regret, and over-all sadness. I can't help it!: no matter how happy I am, I always love sad music. It reaches me on a different, deeper plane than any happy song ever could. I think it may be because sadness is one of life's ultimate equalizer. Not everyone becomes happy for the same reason; some people may find happiness when buying something, others when driving a fast sports car, while others find it in the company of others. Sadness, however, everyone feels, and for many of the same reasons. Losing love, death, falling out of touch with a friend, separation, and so on. Perhaps that's why I can't help but gravitate towards sad music. More than that, sad music that makes me think. Oh, what an intoxicating combination for me. Play a Death Cab For Cutie song, and you had me at "Love of mine ..."

God, that was strange to see you again.
Introduced by a friend of a friend,
Smiled and said, "Yes, I think we've met before."
In that instant, it started to pour.

Sometimes I wonder about the people who come into my life. Into everyone's lives. There's that very cheesy saying of how some people come in for a reason or a season, something something something. But I suppose that underneath all of that "Hallmark Fluff," there's some truth to it.

I try to stay in the present moment. I try very hard to do that. But sometimes, I get lost in my thoughts. It's a bad habit, but I like finding sanctuary there. It's like coming home after a long trip away and plopping down in your most favorite chair. You know you won't have the energy to get up and unpack your belongings, but it just feels so good to relax a moment. That's how it gets when I start thinking. I know that it will hinder me from doing other things, but sometimes, I just have to process the hodge podge of thoughts that are scattered about my cranial space. It's the only way I'll survive to the next day.

But anyway, despite my attempt at honest Buddhism and staying ever present in the moment, I think about the people in my life. I wonder who's going to be here for years, who's going to be here for days, for months, perhaps always. I wonder what purpose each person has in my life -- and truly, they all have some kind of purpose. Whether it's a friend who makes me smile at exactly the right moment, or someone who redeems my faith in others, or someone who shows me kinds of love that I've not yet known or understood or thought existed, they all have a purpose. Perhaps this is a selfish way of thinking, that everyone has a reason in my life. But how else can I relate things if not to myself?

Captured a taxi despite all the rain.
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain.
And all of the time you thought I was sad;
I was trying to remember your name.

I think about the people who've come and gone out of my daily life. I had to let go of some unwillingly. Others left when it was their time to leave. Some were in between. I wonder what it would be like to run into some of these people again, especially the ones who left some kind of imprint on me -- whether good or bad. I wonder how I would handle a run-in situation, how my compassion and love would hold up against, say, someone who hurt me in the past. I wonder if I would be reminded of distant memories that have been only collecting dust in the archives of my mind. I wonder if I would remember that person's story. Or if I would recognize him/her at all.

This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin.
Tried to reach deep, but you couldn't get in.
Now you're outside me, you see all the beauty,
Repent all your sin.

Not surprisingly, I think about the last person I gave my heart to. I think about the last person I trusted so fully -- perhaps too fully -- who crushed whatever hope I may have had. I harbored a lot of anger and a lot of resentment for a very long time. Seven years, in fact. The anger and resentment would start off the emotional playlist, until I eventually wound up feeling worthless, wondering what I could have done to have made him stay or made him change his mind. Anything.

It's nothing but time and a face that you lose.
I chose to feel it, and you couldn't choose.
I'll write you a postcard,
I'll send you the news
From a house down the road from real love.

But then I realize -- he lived out his purpose in my life. He brought many good things to me, and I'll keep many of those fond memories with me as I go through life. He brought bad things to me, as well, but I've come to see them in a positive light. He hurt me, but I learned how to heal. I learned how to stand on my own two feet, to figure out who I am before attempting to give myself to another. I learned what I wanted in someone else and what I most definitely didn't want. I suppose he ended up giving me more good things than I realized, though it took me a long time to come to that realization.

And, without all of these things and all of this growth that he inadvertently made happen, I wouldn't be where I am today. I wouldn't be as happy as I am today, relationship-wise. I don't think I would have ever been open to a relationship had it not been for the pain that I had to wade through years ago. I wouldn't be able to appreciate all of the wonderful things about who I'm with now if I hadn't lamented over all of the bad things about the other. Because of that sadness, I fully understand and am grateful for every second of happiness that I have now in my relationship. It is a rare day that I do not wake up and immediately thank the Universe for all that I am blessed with -- for who I am, for who I am with, for who he makes me, every day. I don't think I would be able to understand all of this if I had no frame of pained reference.

Live through this, and you won't look back.
Live through this, and you won't look back.
Live through this, and you won't look back.

I guess the whole point of it all is that we don't know why people are in our lives. We don't know if they'll bring us immense joy or immense sadness. We don't know if we will have to let them go. We don't know if we will even remember them at all in years to come. All we can do is be thankful that we can experience them, that we can know them. We can experience people in ways that animals can't. We must relish every second that we have with another person, whether good or bad, for what else is life but a string of a few, scattered, important moments? We can choose to be angry. We can choose to be sad. But in the end, it doesn't really matter.

In the end, all you can do is love. All you can do is let go.

There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave:
You were what I wanted,
I gave what I gave.
I'm not sorry I met you,
I'm not sorry it's over,
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save,
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save.

- May (you love, unconditionally).

Bolded sections are lyrics to the song, "Your Ex-Lover is Dead," by Stars.

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).

Where Are You Going?

Soon, in the very near future, I will be getting my third tattoo. I've gone back and forth and back again in trying to decide what it is that I want. I was fairly certain that I wanted "Go make your next choice be your best choice," and perhaps I'll get it somewhere down the line. I still think it's an important and potent quotation that I always need to remember - but I've found something better.

I don't know if I read it or came up with it or (most likely) stole it from someone else, but I'm going to get:

"You are where you are meant to be."

It will be written in another language, most like Persian or Arabic, and it will run the length of the bottom of my right forearm.

In keeping with the idea of what I originally wanted, it is a reminder to stay mindful. To be happy. To be content. And most of all, to be grateful. Every decision that I have made in my life thus far has brought me to this very point in time. Friends I've lost, friends I've made, love I've forgotten, love I've created, losses, births, rebirths, changes, spiritual decisions, all of it - everything has been a step towards my position on this finite timeline of life. And every step that I take from here on out will bring me to my next destination.

I must be grateful that I've had the opportunity to take these steps. That I can continue to take steps. That I can plan for steps in the future - even if I never take them. There are times that I am reminded of what a beautiful, humbling, undeserving gift Life is. It is truly astonishing that we are given the chance to experience it - even the bad. It reminds us that we are alive and helps us to appreciate the wonderful. I've come to understand that, and so I must be as grateful for the negative experiences as I am for the positive.

Who else will live my life if not me?

The tattoo will serve as another reminder: make sure you're headed in the right direction!

- May (you be unafraid to change your mind).

Bright.

Even in the somewhat dreary sunshine (seems like a contradiction, doesn't it?) of the outside world, I find myself renewed. It is as though I've molted the bruised, battered, and scarred casing of before to reveal a pink (or perhaps, in my case, yellow) and fleshy undercoat.

The bully, Depression, has scurried away -- though his return is always a looming threat. But I've come to realize that I can't always be planning, or expecting, his arrival. If all of my time and all of my energy goes to dead-bolting the door and boarding up my windows, how will I ever let the sunlight in? How will I ever feel safe enough to venture into the world around me? It does me no good to act like that or to think like that. If he has to come back, and I think he may have to at some point in the future, wouldn't it be great if I were laying on a beach somewhere, warming myself in the sun's rays, so that he would barge into an empty home? What a disappointment!

There have been a few things leading to this mental change, I think. One would be, of course, the wonderful, glorious change in the weather. The brighter the sun shines, the happier I become. There's no hiding that -- and I know that I'm not the only one. The release of those endorphins is no joke. Another reason would be the compass necklace I received as a gift. A simple gesture, really, but one that meant (and still means) the world to me; a constant reminder that, even when I feel as though I can never find my way back home, I am never truly lost. All I have to do is open the necklace's latch to reveal the working compass and retrace my steps. Plus, the person from whence it came matters more to me than I could have ever imagined, and he fills my heart in ways I never dreamed. He has also helped me find hope in even the darkest of days, simply by being a major part of my life, and for that, I will always be grateful.

A third reason would be the active steps I have taken into being healthier. Cutting out fast food and coffee (again) has already made a difference. I've also been sticking with my "at least 1/2 hour of yoga, every day" routine. I attempted to do the P90X yoga video today, which is an hour and a half long, and only made it through the first hour before my body rebelled. I think that I will have to work my way up to that, as it is more intense than any yoga I've done before. But that is a goal -- to be able to complete that video without any sort of hesitation. And having goals, especially healthy ones, are uplifting.

Plus, I have found my hope. I do not know where I found it or where it had gone in the first place, but we have been reunited again. I am becoming more involved with my job, even though I am still unsure of where to go from here (and I've come to know that that's all right). I have decided that, within the next year, I will travel. I will, of course, take smaller trips -- maybe to the likes of DC to visit friends or back to New England to do the same -- but I have decided that I will take at least one big trip within the next year. It could be across the country or across the ocean. It really matters not. All I know is that I will.

I have found my peace with the Unknown (and it does deserve a capitalization here). I do not know where I am headed. I do not know how much longer I will stay with Apple. I do not know where I will go in my Graduate Studies. But what I do know is that I have been provided a gift -- and that gift is my not knowing. Others have their lives planned out before they can even protest. They are told that they will be doctors, they will be housewives, they will be lawyers. And while all of those things are wonderful and needed in their own right, there is no freedom there. They cannot say, "I find my joy in something else, so I will pursue that something else to make me happy." They must do what has been decided for them.

I don't have that. Those restrictions don't touch me. They never have.

What a beautiful, magnificent gift.

How could I waste it?

- May (you never lose hope).

Double? Madness! (Cue 300 jokes)

It has been an introspective day for me. And I think it has been a long time coming.

My brain is constantly searching and thinking. It is rare that it is simply resting. In fact, I can't remember a time where it's been at rest, even while the other parts of my body fall into their natural comatose states every evening. I'm almost tempted, sometimes, to enter myself into a sleep study so that a very serious-looking scientist (wearing glasses and a lab coat, I imagine) can hook up electrical wires to my skull and monitor my brain waves. I want to know what goes on when I'm unconscious to this world and exploring the nightly, alternate universe. Even when I'm sleeping, I want to continue learning.

I don't quite know what I'm feeling. My initial reaction is to say that I'm numb, but then after some serious consideration, I don't think that's it. "Numb" implies some kind of sadness. An overwhelmed feeling. It's not a foreign feeling to me, not by any means. I used to use the analogy of standing underneath the shower head for long periods of time. You start off feeling every drop of water, then it spreads out until you feel one, cohesive stream and those droplets are no longer individual, and then there's nothing. Eventually, your skin goes numb to the feeling, and it's only when you hear the sound of the water swirling down the drain that you remember it's pouring over you.

But that's not what this feeling is.

I suppose I could call it apathy, but that, too, holds a negative connotation, and I really don't think this is a negative feeling. Part of me thinks that, perhaps, after an emotionally charged day, maybe this "flat-lining" is a kind of mental defense mechanism so that I don't short circuit.

Well, thank you, seemingly pragmatic part of me -- but I think you're wrong.

Underneath this -- we'll call it "acceptance" -- there is a general sense of hope. Of wonder. Of happiness. Which is why I know it's not feeling "numb" or "apathetic." I want more hours in the day so that I can spend them stretching my body and expanding my bones. I want more hours in the day so that I can spend them meditating and channeling the Universe. I want more hours in the day so that I have more reasons for which to be thankful for life.

That hardly sounds like numbness or apathy, right?

Somewhat unrelated, yet still tied in, I've decided what I want my third tattoo to be, to serve as a reminder of the lessons I've learned over the past few days. The lessons I've always known, deep down, but only realized and understood at this moment in time. It's a simple statement. It isn't especially poetic and, upon first listen or glance, it seems as obvious as a red light (or, in my case, a yellow one, reminding me to take life in the slow lane). But give it a moment to sink in. Let it infiltrate your mind. After you understand the clout of it, you'll understand why it's important.

Go make your next choice be your best choice.

Yes, it's taken from a song. And most would find that foolish. But I've been toying with the idea of getting this quote etched into my skin for a few months now. I've debated and wondered and scratched my head raw over it. But I know, now, that it's what I want. It's what I need.

I promise myself and the Universe that, from now on, every choice I make will be my best. Every time I'm presented with a choice, I have the opportunity to make my life a little more wonderful. To make this world a little happier. To spread light into someone else's life. To encourage someone else to search for their true happiness. Why on earth wouldn't I want to do that?

- May (you choose the right path).

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).

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).

Unknown Space

Slightly delirious from Nyquil. Feeling sleepy, feverish, stuffed, but somehow content. These drugs must be stronger than I thought.

Too many thoughts were racing through my already cluttered mind as I drove home from work today. Pieces of poems that have yet to be written were the most prominent. I managed to remember the opening lines of this one throughout the twenty minutes spent in the car and this is what I came up with. (As with yesterday's post, the link to download will be at the end).

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

"Unknown Space"

somewhere between

what he sees
and
what she cannot(will not?)

lies the squandered, the suppressed.

bulging hips and
dimpled thighs,

crooked this
and
off-center
that;

every flaw for which she
holds
herself somehow accountable;

every reason for which she
feels she deserves
far less than those with

hips that curve like country roads
and thighs as smooth as satin,

those with
hearts that pull like gravity
and smiles that silently serenade.

she saw it,
once,
the beauty by which he swears.

well,
she will tell you that she thinks she saw it.

perhaps
she saw it.

well,
it’s really, very unlikely that she saw it.

nothing more than imagination:
interesting,
adventurous,
inviting,
exhilarating,

but, at the end of it all,
non-existent.

nothing more than thoughts
in passing trains
that have an omniscient destination
except to the man wearing the hat.

trust,
says he.

i do,
says she.

in every form
in every action,
she tells the truth.

trust was always easy for her,

especially when faced with his
blackened pools through which she could see
only light,
only good,
only wonder(she wonders what they saw in her).

but struggle still
remains.

pull her(won’t he touch her?)close
and listen to the off-kilter beating
of what was once an unbroken heart.

steady her head
as she shakes it.

kiss her brow
as it furrows.

bite her lips
as they fall.

she will believe him,
eventually.

someday(please, have patience),
she will find herself
staring from his eyes,

and she will understand.

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

Here's the Pages file and here's the MS Word file.

- May (you remember to nurture your spirit).

Sticks and Stones .. And Sand .. And Pebbles .. And Beer?

A friend of mine just sent this to me in an email. I thought I'd share it.

A philosophy professor stood before his class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he pick up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks, rocks about 2 inches in diameter.

He then asked the students if the jar was full? They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, or course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He then asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous- yes!

The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and proceeded to pour their entire contents into the jar- effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.



"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided. "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The rocks are the important things- your family, your partner, your health, your children- things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car, the sand is everything else- the small stuff."

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued "there is no room for the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal. Take care of the rocks first--the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple beers!"



- May (you gather the right stones).

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).

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).

Check Check 1-2

Not too much to report on. Things are cruising along wonderfully.

It's hard to believe that it's already August. When did that happen? .. Well, I guess the technical answer would be 5 days ago, but that's besides the point.

I've started trying a new coconut water from Zico. I ran out of O.N.E. yesterday, and since I seem to have bad automobile luck in Huntington, I drove to a different store in East Bumblefuck. I mean East Setauket. They didn't have any O.N.E. in stock so I had to opt for the other (and unfortunately more expensive) brand, Zico. I'm not going to lie -- I miss the metallic packaging of the O.N.E brand. It just looked so .. refreshing, collecting con-den-sa-tion (reference to Family Guy) in the fridge. Oh well.

Didn't buy either of the other two flavors offered (Passion Fruit and Mango), but they may be my next adventure. I have to keep this Vitamineral Green interesting somehow!

Also, I know I've already said this, but holy crap. The differences I've felt from using Vitamineral Green have literally be astounding. My mind is blown. Look, there's brain splatter over there. It's unbelievable. I have so much energy and I don't get that post-caffeine crash I'd get with coffee. I have two cups every day -- once in the morning and once after I get back from lunch. I'm good to go until around 11 or 12, when I force myself to go to sleep. Most of the time, though, I could keep going until God knows when.

It's a little pricey ($19.95 for 150gm, and with S&H, it works out to about $30), but I don't think I'll ever be able to stop using it. Not after what I've felt and experienced. Apparently, it's also a good counter cleaner. JMraz's brother spilled his VMGreen shake or something on the counter, where there were cherry juice stains, and after wiping the spill up, the stains were gone! This stuff really is amazing.

I like to think of it de-staining my insides. Not that I'm making a habit of ingesting dye or anything. The folks at Healthforce Nutritionals also gave some sample packets of a few of their other products. I plan on trying those soon, too. I'll let you know how it goes.

- May (you find rejuvenation).

Reflecting Like a Mirror

I've been drinking O.N.E. Coconut Water with a heaping teaspoon of Vitamineral Green every morning this week. I've already felt the difference and it's ridiculous.

Let me give you a brief background. I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person. Most times, if I had to wake up before noon, I'd grumble one-word responses and cut through anyone who looked at me wrong. Or looked at me, in general. My mom learned to avoid talking to me in the wee hours of the morning. Unless, of course, I'm carrying over from the night before. I'm a bit nocturnal -- I'd rather stay up 'til 5 or 6 AM from the night before than wake up at 5 or 6 AM.

But I knew that having a 9 - 5 office job meant having to be remotely sociable and human in the morning. So when I read about JMraz's use of Coconut H20 and Vitamineral Green to get himself energized, I knew it was exactly what I needed. And he wasn't lying, let me tell you. I feel so alert and connected with things around me whenever I've had it. I don't even crave coffee -- which is more or less a miracle in itself. I don't need it. And coffee, for me, took hours upon hours to actually kick in. And then it lasted a mere 15 minutes before I'd crash again, more tired than before ingestion. With this combination, though, I'm energized all day. It fills me up the way a good breakfast does. And man, does it clear me out.

Without going into detail, let's just say any sort of toxins I had in my body have been vacated. Through my intestines, both big and small. Nothing ridiculous, but it's just another testament to all the crap (no pun intended) we put into our bodies every day. Even if you think you're eating healthy, you're still taking in some level of bad things that have to get out somehow.

On another, completely unrelated note, I was in a minor fender bender yesterday. As I told my mom, I didn't even have my phone near me (I am sometimes guilty of texting while driving -- mainly due to the fact that I don't have to look at the keys to do it; I've memorized them). I was focused completely on the road, but apparently not on the car and how wide it was. Which is ironic, since my car is a Ford Focus.

All that aside, I pulled around a car in the Straight Lane when I was trying to get to the Left Turn Lane. I clipped my mirror on her back light, which barely got a scratch. My mirror, however, was hanging like a loose tooth off the side of the passenger side door.

After coming out of the shock and recovering from how bad it sounded (ever notice how little things on a car sound absolutely horrible?), she got out of her car and started yelling at me about how it looked like I was going to drive off and how I didn't stop to see if she'd gotten damage on her car. Because I'm really going to stop in the middle of a busy road in a turn lane, get out of my car, inspect hers, and then get run over. Right. I explained that I was pulling over where it was safe to do so, rather than putting myself at risk of getting killed. She started blabbing about something else, I pretty much drowned her out. She muttered things with her arms flailing as she walked back to her car.

Anyway, things were fine. I was grateful to be okay. I wanted to say a lot of things to her that wouldn't have gone along with my Buddhist attitude about life, but I didn't. I knew it wouldn't have helped the situation. I was amazed at how much she assumed about me, though -- like that I was going to drive away. It was a startling reminder to me to never presume to know anything about anyone -- because I don't. And I won't, unless they tell me. And even then, it may not be entire truths.

Things being fine didn't mean that I didn't start crying after she pulled away, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. It wasn't even that I was upset -- I didn't care, it was just a mirror and it still works. I was just so rattled by the entire experience and the only way I know to de-stress is by crying. So I drove to Wild By Nature to buy some more coconut water, went into Rite-Aid and bought some super tough tape, and taped my mirror back onto the door. I told my mom what happened, she called my dad, who's going to call the woman. Things were all right.

I just realized that optimism has to be tested for it to last. Being happy and looking at things in an eternally positive light is easy when things are going your way and things are peachy keen jelly bean. It's when that picture-perfect situation gets rattled that your true optimism shines. I think I made it through.

I think this is here to stay.

- May (you test your boundaries).

Reporting Live

After having a brief conversation with someone I went to school with, he mentioned that he missed college, or at least the city.

I thought about it and realized .. I don't miss it. That's not to say I don't miss spending more time with the people I'd come to love, or that I don't miss random little things about the campus (like the fountain by Hunt-Cavanaugh or the way the leaves were always treacherously slippery up the Guzman Hill and by Sullivan Hall when I cut through the path between the trees because I was always late for work). But .. I'm okay. I see that part of my life as having lived out its short, four-year life. I gained the experiences I needed, I made life-long friends, I grew, I found myself, I figured some parts of my life out, I struggled and stared Death straight in the face and then told him to go fuck himself, I made it through and walked across that stage.

I was ready to go. I was ready for the next chapter of my life. I've somehow gotten to a place of complete .. peace. I'm no longer living in the past. I'm not looking at pictures from college longingly, wishing I could have more moments. Because somehow, having more would diminish the ones I already have. I know that I'll see my friends as often as our schedules allow. We won't lose touch that easily. It'll require more effort than just shouting down the hall, but it'll be worth it.

I've finally figured out how to live in the moment. I have no idea how, but God damn.

It feels amazing.

- May (you choose to live).

Water, Water Everywhere

So, I bought this card when I was visiting Meg last summer at the Cape. I liked the simplistic art, the bright colors, and the typewriter-text font used. But I never really understood it. No, let me rephrase that. I understood it. But I never really got it. Catch my drift?

Anyway, if you can't read the text, it says, "She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short." Looking at the card I have, it's actually a different illustration than the one in the picture -- it's a woman sitting with a growing plant in her hands, her tears a dotted-line that's watering it to grow. While I like this other version, I'm partial to the one I have on my wall.

There's something beautiful in that -- she's crying because the world is so beautiful and life is so short, and by allowing herself to be overwhelmed by these emotions, she's replenishing the very world she's come to love and appreciate through her tears. I hope to do this every day -- to be so overcome with emotion at seeing the majesty of this world that I'm moved to tears, so much so that I will water the earth I've come to adore with those very tears.

I actually had this moment not too long ago. On Saturday, after getting my hair done and getting my tattoo, I was driving home from the tattoo parlor and I literally started welling up with tears. I wasn't sad, I wasn't upset -- I was so moved by the amount of wonderful things in my life, that I could do nothing but cry.

I not only had begun this new journey of my life with his new, positive outlook, I was surrounded by people I love and care about. My brother and I spent the day together, something that doesn't happen all that often where it's just the two of us. We hung out, he fixed the a/c in my car, and took me to get my tattoo done. I was so grateful to just have him as my older brother and to have been able to share that momentous moment with him that I cried. I was so grateful to have the job and resulting paycheck to pay for the tattoo and hair that I cried. I was so grateful to have my mom supporting both of those decisions and to have my family supporting my new life that I cried.

Immediately, I felt like the woman on the card.

The world is so beautiful
And life is so short.

I will never forget these moments. I will keep them with me for the rest of this short, amazing, wondrous life. I hope you have that moment where your heart is so full that it has no other way to overflow than to make you cry tears of absolute joy. It's an experience unlike anything I've ever felt before.

- May (you live a beautiful life).

What Keeps You Up at Night?

If you haven't, do go and check out J. Mraz's newest blog post (he's been taking 12 questions via Twitter and answering them on Mondays). Pay particular attention to his answer to the last question.

It starts off like this:
----
From lindsaygee: I am 28. hard age. what worries you the most about your own life; not the world; not the environment. what keeps you up @ night.

I often ask myself: Am I doing enough? What contributions have I made today? If my list is short I will get out of bed and start typing something - often a letter or a journal entry, as if my own journal will someday amount to something (which is usually does, allowing me sort out the garbage from the recycling in my head.) Otherwise, I waste little energy on worry. What's there to be anxious about? Missing a flight or not making a phone payment can be an inconvenience, just as someone you know getting sick or even dying can be very unfortunate. But Worry is what happens when you take those misfortunes on and think you have control over them. You tell yourself that you are responsible in some way for these situations. Or worse, you've decided if the outcome isn't pleasant, there could be even more trouble for yourself and others.
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The post goes and he sheds an amazing amount of light on what I've been trying to live: The Zen Life. It's all-around inspiring if you're looking for some sort of sign to kick your life into gear. Was there something you've been meaning to try but have been too afraid to do? An instrument to learn? A letter to write? Kind words of love to share? A fear to conquer?

The real question is: What are you waiting for?

We cannot change the past, we cannot change or alter the future; we can only control the now and even then, our control only goes so far as to stay present, to stay mindful, and to come as we are.

- May (you live the life you've dreamed of).