Showing posts with label turning point. Show all posts
Showing posts with label turning point. Show all posts
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Page-turning
The living room is yellow, with dark carved wood hugging each window pane, fireplace mantel and floor board, matched by a table, chairs and cupboard built into the corner of the dining room. Blue tile lies in the entrance, resting below a grassy green door with a circular frame and rectangular window in the middle, providing a peek-hole into this castle. I am lounging in a friendly black leather chair, feet seated on a matching foot rest, accompanied by a silent fireplace. Orange and yellow leaves give all their colors through the windows lining this front wall, their shadows colliding with sunbeams on the caramel wood. A petite chocolate chair with an ocean cushioned seat states me down from the opposite corner. At its right hand sits a lamp on the chestnut radiator - curvy licorice stem with a creamy shade. Sculpted metal leaves pop out of each end of the curving window frame. High heels echo, asking for the white dress. Fall air is wrapping me up in this space that my friend is learning to call her home.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Song for Sharon
My friend Sharon just got engaged the other day. She and her boyfriend had been apart for five months before he flew down with a ring in his pocket and proposed to her that evening. By the time I saw her the next morning she was glowing nonstop and bumping into things all day.
Joni Mitchell sings a beautiful song in the form of a letter to her friend Sharon about how she’s moved out to NYC but all she really wants is to find that one person she can share life with. Not only did I feel it necessary to use the title for my friend Sharon, but I love the way that Joni poetically tells the story of love (and the search for it).
I went to Staten Island, Sharon.
To buy myself a mandolin
And I saw the long white dress of love
On a storefront mannequin
Big boat chuggin' back with a belly full of cars...
All for something lacy
Some girl's going to see that dress
And crave that day like crazy.
I think that “some girl” is Joni. I used lyrics from a Joni Mitchell song in my last post from a song about Woodstock. Ironically, Joni never made it there due to a rainstorm. She ended up stranded in New York but created this beautiful song about the event.
I’m going on down to Yasgurs farm
I’m going to join in a rock n roll band
I’m going to camp out on the land
I’m going to try and get my soul free
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden
Joni was a bit a hippie and from CANADA. Guess where my Sharon is from?
CANADA.
We have now come to the real connection between my Sharon and Joni.
It took awhile for both Jen and I to fully adjust to a Canadian, attempting to understand the language and local idioms. To make matters worse, Sharon also grew up on a farm in Alberta. She was speaking about silage, birthing cows, cutting amneonic sacks, and was stressed out when their bulls weren’t going to make it across the border because border control couldn’t read the numbers that had been tattooed in their ears.
Nothing is worse than an unexpected group of 80 bulls.
She was saying “Ay” and talking about their currency up there as loonies and tunies (Looney Tunes?). We talked about playing board games when we were little while she gloated about having thousands of acres to create her hundreds of fort kingdoms. She told us about the time she took some kind of gun and shot a coyote. Due to the length of the gun, she had to open up her window along with the back window of the truck she was driving. We were told that when the cows are calving she has to check on them at 1 AM or 2 AM to make sure all is going well, while her dad checks them in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes they have to drop everything and run outside when a calf is born and hasn’t broken the amneonic sack that is now drowning it. She also expressed,
“I think every kid should see an animal butchered. I mean, I had to eat my favorite cow when I was 12.”
Sharon uses the word sh** and calls the handle above the passenger seat the “oh sh**” handle, saying that us Americans don’t swear. To her credit, she’s actually talking to the right crowd where that’s concerned.
That being said, Sharon is my dear friend. We watched many an episode of Gilmore Girls together and I ate all of the meals she cooked for Jen and I, especially her banana chocolate chip muffins. I also took full advantage of any offered massage. She showed me pictures of her Albertan childhood that resembled something out of a Land’s End catalog with her family often in the outdoors grouped together in snow gear and various outdoor attire. Now she has a shimmering special something on her ring finger, which means she’s got a whole lot of something wonderful coming her way.
Best wishes, my Canadian amiga.
Joni Mitchell sings a beautiful song in the form of a letter to her friend Sharon about how she’s moved out to NYC but all she really wants is to find that one person she can share life with. Not only did I feel it necessary to use the title for my friend Sharon, but I love the way that Joni poetically tells the story of love (and the search for it).
I went to Staten Island, Sharon.
To buy myself a mandolin
And I saw the long white dress of love
On a storefront mannequin
Big boat chuggin' back with a belly full of cars...
All for something lacy
Some girl's going to see that dress
And crave that day like crazy.
I think that “some girl” is Joni. I used lyrics from a Joni Mitchell song in my last post from a song about Woodstock. Ironically, Joni never made it there due to a rainstorm. She ended up stranded in New York but created this beautiful song about the event.
I’m going on down to Yasgurs farm
I’m going to join in a rock n roll band
I’m going to camp out on the land
I’m going to try and get my soul free
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden
Joni was a bit a hippie and from CANADA. Guess where my Sharon is from?
CANADA.
We have now come to the real connection between my Sharon and Joni.
It took awhile for both Jen and I to fully adjust to a Canadian, attempting to understand the language and local idioms. To make matters worse, Sharon also grew up on a farm in Alberta. She was speaking about silage, birthing cows, cutting amneonic sacks, and was stressed out when their bulls weren’t going to make it across the border because border control couldn’t read the numbers that had been tattooed in their ears.
Nothing is worse than an unexpected group of 80 bulls.
She was saying “Ay” and talking about their currency up there as loonies and tunies (Looney Tunes?). We talked about playing board games when we were little while she gloated about having thousands of acres to create her hundreds of fort kingdoms. She told us about the time she took some kind of gun and shot a coyote. Due to the length of the gun, she had to open up her window along with the back window of the truck she was driving. We were told that when the cows are calving she has to check on them at 1 AM or 2 AM to make sure all is going well, while her dad checks them in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes they have to drop everything and run outside when a calf is born and hasn’t broken the amneonic sack that is now drowning it. She also expressed,
“I think every kid should see an animal butchered. I mean, I had to eat my favorite cow when I was 12.”
Sharon uses the word sh** and calls the handle above the passenger seat the “oh sh**” handle, saying that us Americans don’t swear. To her credit, she’s actually talking to the right crowd where that’s concerned.
That being said, Sharon is my dear friend. We watched many an episode of Gilmore Girls together and I ate all of the meals she cooked for Jen and I, especially her banana chocolate chip muffins. I also took full advantage of any offered massage. She showed me pictures of her Albertan childhood that resembled something out of a Land’s End catalog with her family often in the outdoors grouped together in snow gear and various outdoor attire. Now she has a shimmering special something on her ring finger, which means she’s got a whole lot of something wonderful coming her way.
Best wishes, my Canadian amiga.
Monday, February 21, 2011
We Are Stardust (We Are Golden)
What would you do if you were diagnosed with a fatal disease? This thought is the reality that the directors are facing here. Clark has been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease which will wear down his motor neurons for the next few years. He had been experiencing difficulty walking while he and his wife were visiting churches in the States. In Boston, his friends told him to get checked out which resulted in various MRIs and being referred to two different doctors both of which confirmed his fatal diagnosis. Since returning to Quito, he has been struggling with the high altitude a bit, but not to any extent that an outsider would notice. He does carry a cane now though, without stress or difficulty. Today many people came forward in church to lay their hands on Clark and his wife Melinda to support them in this diagnosis, showing their love and respect for the work they have done and the people that they are. Though Clark and Melinda shirked any kind of pity, it was hard to keep a dry eye.
Clark was educated to be an attorney and in fact had a successful practice out in Mammoth, CA. He had come down to Quito on a missions trip some years prior, with his future wife Melinda, and a few years later felt moved to return and begin an orphanage here – moved by God, they would attest. Despite their friends’ concerns, they packed up their life and came down here 20 or so years ago and began creating a place where unwanted children could come in the hopes of being adopted. At first it seemed uncertain as they faced great difficulties, even involving losing the life of a baby in the process. But though they questioned this calling, they didn’t turn back.
They told people that they felt called by God to start this orphanage but would be challenged with, “But has God also called your children?” Ecuador is not exactly the safest country, nor is it on par with the United States in standard of living. They assured their children that if the territory were to affect their family, they could always go back to the states. This consolation provided enough assurance for the children to be on board with the decision. They could always go back if they absolutely needed to: family came first.
Now I’m sitting here, 20 years later, enjoying the fruits of their labor. There are three buildings here, all of which provide a loving environment for any child to grow up in. I sit on the porch of a guest house that welcomes any team willing to help. As of now, there is a team from Boston here, which makes me even more contented (they were showing us pictures of all the snow up there, making me feel a bit nostalgic). They’ve helped guide the process of hundreds of children to families. It’s amazing the things that you can do in your life and the lives that you can greatly influence. Helping a child find a caring family seems to be one of the most basic to human happiness.
And now, here they are faced with a life threatening illness. The difficulty of that only challenges their character even more to respond in a great way. Some people would fall apart when faced with such finiteness, yet many would only be able to respond with great strength and power. I have often thought that losing a spouse would be more difficult than losing a child, and here is a woman faced with exactly that. Time doesn’t stop for trials, it keeps moving along challenging us to cope. However, its incredible the support that you can find in the people around you. As Melinda put in, she feels like she has been injected with peace and comfort only by the grace of God, feeling the warmth of a thousand prayers.
Realizing how short life really is, reminds me that appreciating relationships and building a meaningful existence is paramount. Not allowing stress or difficulties overcome you is key, as you intentionally take advantage of all the goodness that surrounds you: friends, family and helping others. It sounds cliche, but most true things are. We often repeat these kinds of things for a reason. Life is really about giving and loving the best you can.
Clark was educated to be an attorney and in fact had a successful practice out in Mammoth, CA. He had come down to Quito on a missions trip some years prior, with his future wife Melinda, and a few years later felt moved to return and begin an orphanage here – moved by God, they would attest. Despite their friends’ concerns, they packed up their life and came down here 20 or so years ago and began creating a place where unwanted children could come in the hopes of being adopted. At first it seemed uncertain as they faced great difficulties, even involving losing the life of a baby in the process. But though they questioned this calling, they didn’t turn back.
They told people that they felt called by God to start this orphanage but would be challenged with, “But has God also called your children?” Ecuador is not exactly the safest country, nor is it on par with the United States in standard of living. They assured their children that if the territory were to affect their family, they could always go back to the states. This consolation provided enough assurance for the children to be on board with the decision. They could always go back if they absolutely needed to: family came first.
Now I’m sitting here, 20 years later, enjoying the fruits of their labor. There are three buildings here, all of which provide a loving environment for any child to grow up in. I sit on the porch of a guest house that welcomes any team willing to help. As of now, there is a team from Boston here, which makes me even more contented (they were showing us pictures of all the snow up there, making me feel a bit nostalgic). They’ve helped guide the process of hundreds of children to families. It’s amazing the things that you can do in your life and the lives that you can greatly influence. Helping a child find a caring family seems to be one of the most basic to human happiness.
And now, here they are faced with a life threatening illness. The difficulty of that only challenges their character even more to respond in a great way. Some people would fall apart when faced with such finiteness, yet many would only be able to respond with great strength and power. I have often thought that losing a spouse would be more difficult than losing a child, and here is a woman faced with exactly that. Time doesn’t stop for trials, it keeps moving along challenging us to cope. However, its incredible the support that you can find in the people around you. As Melinda put in, she feels like she has been injected with peace and comfort only by the grace of God, feeling the warmth of a thousand prayers.
Realizing how short life really is, reminds me that appreciating relationships and building a meaningful existence is paramount. Not allowing stress or difficulties overcome you is key, as you intentionally take advantage of all the goodness that surrounds you: friends, family and helping others. It sounds cliche, but most true things are. We often repeat these kinds of things for a reason. Life is really about giving and loving the best you can.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
South America
We rode on paved streets through concrete, graffiti and remains of the day after leaving the airport. Night brought out the eeriness of the empty storefronts and boarded shops and the air smelled dusty, suspended by morsels of water. Most buildings were hard to distinguish except for the beaming car dealership on the corner.
Newness is settling in and it’s hard to make judgments quite yet with the glare of excitement blinding.
The taxi dropped us off at the end of a wide cobblestone road with a broken sidewalk to the right and a strip of grass to the left, tall concrete walls on both sides. Jen opened the broad metal gate unlocking the hidden flora and fauna beyond the concrete walls. For a second I thought fairies or fireflies would emerge from underneath the glistening leaves of the light rain. A stone path lead to terracotta tiled steps and thin black railings that produced an apartment at the top. Inside were high ceilings, exposed wood, an espresso machine, warm showers, wi-fi and a master bedroom just for me (!). (WTF?)
The high walls keep this orphanage functioning and safe. Buildings provide a safe haven for preschoolers, babies and children with disabilities. Disabled children are given therapy, babies are held and fed, and preschoolers have a loft with all the windows and toys a child needs to stretch their imagination. A pet Lama sluggishly roams through the courtyard next to a fire pit that I can hardly wait to use, AND if you walk down the cobblestone path the trees open up a beautiful view of the mountains and Quito.
About an hour away is another orphanage. To get there requires a bus ride of about $1.00 for two people. It drops you off on the side of a highway and you walk on broken stone and dirt through concrete houses, finished and unfinished, with flowers resting on the sills outside, across a moving bridge over a deep ravine, passing a horse at the entrance and wandering dogs, down a road lined with trees and through a gate. Grassy mountains hover in front and behind, cloaked in grassy patchwork all along the sides and to the top, reminiscent of England. The green grassy common greets you, surrounded by colorful little concrete houses. Children are eating pork, potatoes, and maiz with spicy cilantro sauces to drizzle on top.
“Jennifer!” they say, recognizing my friend excitedly.
Quito is a mixture of tall office buildings, old Spanish influence, and what seems like strip malls, surrounded by mountains. The climate is comfortable, 60 and sunny, pushing me to wear long sleeves. Today we drank fruit shakes at a place with finished tree trunks for chairs and tables, an ex-pat western haven. We also visited a video shop, stocking up on bootlegged movies (my picks: True Grit and Harry Potter).
Now, it’s official - I must be in foreign country.
Newness is settling in and it’s hard to make judgments quite yet with the glare of excitement blinding.
The taxi dropped us off at the end of a wide cobblestone road with a broken sidewalk to the right and a strip of grass to the left, tall concrete walls on both sides. Jen opened the broad metal gate unlocking the hidden flora and fauna beyond the concrete walls. For a second I thought fairies or fireflies would emerge from underneath the glistening leaves of the light rain. A stone path lead to terracotta tiled steps and thin black railings that produced an apartment at the top. Inside were high ceilings, exposed wood, an espresso machine, warm showers, wi-fi and a master bedroom just for me (!). (WTF?)
The high walls keep this orphanage functioning and safe. Buildings provide a safe haven for preschoolers, babies and children with disabilities. Disabled children are given therapy, babies are held and fed, and preschoolers have a loft with all the windows and toys a child needs to stretch their imagination. A pet Lama sluggishly roams through the courtyard next to a fire pit that I can hardly wait to use, AND if you walk down the cobblestone path the trees open up a beautiful view of the mountains and Quito.
About an hour away is another orphanage. To get there requires a bus ride of about $1.00 for two people. It drops you off on the side of a highway and you walk on broken stone and dirt through concrete houses, finished and unfinished, with flowers resting on the sills outside, across a moving bridge over a deep ravine, passing a horse at the entrance and wandering dogs, down a road lined with trees and through a gate. Grassy mountains hover in front and behind, cloaked in grassy patchwork all along the sides and to the top, reminiscent of England. The green grassy common greets you, surrounded by colorful little concrete houses. Children are eating pork, potatoes, and maiz with spicy cilantro sauces to drizzle on top.
“Jennifer!” they say, recognizing my friend excitedly.
Quito is a mixture of tall office buildings, old Spanish influence, and what seems like strip malls, surrounded by mountains. The climate is comfortable, 60 and sunny, pushing me to wear long sleeves. Today we drank fruit shakes at a place with finished tree trunks for chairs and tables, an ex-pat western haven. We also visited a video shop, stocking up on bootlegged movies (my picks: True Grit and Harry Potter).
Now, it’s official - I must be in foreign country.
Take Off
(January 7, posted belatedly)
Through the airplane window I watch snow lap up over the airport, covering car and airplane etchings on the white ground. After being taxied to the de-icing station and sprayed with Christmas colored solutions over the steel airplane frame, my plane roars and breaks into the sky.
AWEsome. These incredibly heavy machines fly thousands of feet above the earth, to new places so comfortably and quickly. Here I am with my snacks, cushioned seat, movie, and stewardesses pulling snacks and drinks down the aisle. In less than 24 hours I will be thousands of miles away. How could such a heavy object have lifted itself into the air and brought me from here to there?
My grandfather says that this time is magic. His curiosity reminds me of how little the common man (myself) knows about the devices used these days, being limited to user interface, buttons, or wheels (unless you’re Tron and you’re actually IN the COMPUTER). He was curious about my digital camera and computer, asking how they work, to which I replied…
“Pixels.”
…not to be confused with Pixies. What about airplanes? Aerodynamics/Pixy Dust. Computers? Microchips/Special Lava. Cars? Combustion/Prayer. The Internet? CSS/ Html/001110101110/It’s-a-mystery.
Technology has cut/stripped distance between people; connection is absolutely instant; we can have it NOW (5 seconds is too slow). Nowadays, we have Internet Explorer. Google provides pictures and tours of areas all over the world. Famous architecture, cities, and terrain can be seen by each and every one of us through the inter-web!
But an entire profession has been lost: a true explorer. As said to Truman (The Truman Show) when desperately wanting to leave the island, “Actually, everything has already been explored.”
What must have it felt like to unlock the treasures of the Louisiana Purchase for the first time? Or, to saddle up and drag your family out west? Or, to hop on a boat and end up in the cold winters of New England? To go to the jungles of Africa? These people were CRAZY and willing to risk their lives to see something new and live a different life. People drew beautiful maps speculating how the world must look. Now we have views from the (freaking) moon.
You don’t have to be insane anymore, or crazy. If you save up some money and get some time off, you can go. You can do it.
Between airplanes and the Internet alone, it’s amazing how much of a genius man can be.
***Airport Interlude ***
On a very different note, one knows they are in the Houston airport when one spots a Fox News themed gift store not far from middle aged adults grouped with youth and carrying backpacks (a.k.a. MISSIONS TRIP). At this very moment I’m watching their Jansported backs walk away from me. Earlier I was searching for kiosks and stores at which to break down my $20 bills into smaller bills and was asked by a friendly kiosk-man,
“You must be going out of the country. Where are you going?”
Through the airplane window I watch snow lap up over the airport, covering car and airplane etchings on the white ground. After being taxied to the de-icing station and sprayed with Christmas colored solutions over the steel airplane frame, my plane roars and breaks into the sky.
AWEsome. These incredibly heavy machines fly thousands of feet above the earth, to new places so comfortably and quickly. Here I am with my snacks, cushioned seat, movie, and stewardesses pulling snacks and drinks down the aisle. In less than 24 hours I will be thousands of miles away. How could such a heavy object have lifted itself into the air and brought me from here to there?
My grandfather says that this time is magic. His curiosity reminds me of how little the common man (myself) knows about the devices used these days, being limited to user interface, buttons, or wheels (unless you’re Tron and you’re actually IN the COMPUTER). He was curious about my digital camera and computer, asking how they work, to which I replied…
“Pixels.”
…not to be confused with Pixies. What about airplanes? Aerodynamics/Pixy Dust. Computers? Microchips/Special Lava. Cars? Combustion/Prayer. The Internet? CSS/ Html/001110101110/It’s-a-mystery.
Technology has cut/stripped distance between people; connection is absolutely instant; we can have it NOW (5 seconds is too slow). Nowadays, we have Internet Explorer. Google provides pictures and tours of areas all over the world. Famous architecture, cities, and terrain can be seen by each and every one of us through the inter-web!
But an entire profession has been lost: a true explorer. As said to Truman (The Truman Show) when desperately wanting to leave the island, “Actually, everything has already been explored.”
What must have it felt like to unlock the treasures of the Louisiana Purchase for the first time? Or, to saddle up and drag your family out west? Or, to hop on a boat and end up in the cold winters of New England? To go to the jungles of Africa? These people were CRAZY and willing to risk their lives to see something new and live a different life. People drew beautiful maps speculating how the world must look. Now we have views from the (freaking) moon.
You don’t have to be insane anymore, or crazy. If you save up some money and get some time off, you can go. You can do it.
Between airplanes and the Internet alone, it’s amazing how much of a genius man can be.
***Airport Interlude ***
On a very different note, one knows they are in the Houston airport when one spots a Fox News themed gift store not far from middle aged adults grouped with youth and carrying backpacks (a.k.a. MISSIONS TRIP). At this very moment I’m watching their Jansported backs walk away from me. Earlier I was searching for kiosks and stores at which to break down my $20 bills into smaller bills and was asked by a friendly kiosk-man,
“You must be going out of the country. Where are you going?”
“Ecuador.”
“Is it a mission?”
To botch up a quote from Elf, “What’s a mission? I want one!”
***Airport Interlude: End; Enter Airplane Thoughts ***
The sky just pulled back to reveal the blue Mediterranean sea below my plane. I hadn’t been expecting it so soon. There was a tiny opening act of Texas farmland followed by smog before our cloud floor dropped out. It’s beautiful up here. Our captain is rotating between Spanish and English. There is a Chinese couple sitting next to me and they were asking how to count in Spanish. I’m worried for them, looks they they’re in for a rougher language ride than I.
There’s only four hours between me and America del Sur. I never purchase wine alone when traveling through airports or on airplanes, but I just did.
“Is it a mission?”
To botch up a quote from Elf, “What’s a mission? I want one!”
***Airport Interlude: End; Enter Airplane Thoughts ***
The sky just pulled back to reveal the blue Mediterranean sea below my plane. I hadn’t been expecting it so soon. There was a tiny opening act of Texas farmland followed by smog before our cloud floor dropped out. It’s beautiful up here. Our captain is rotating between Spanish and English. There is a Chinese couple sitting next to me and they were asking how to count in Spanish. I’m worried for them, looks they they’re in for a rougher language ride than I.
There’s only four hours between me and America del Sur. I never purchase wine alone when traveling through airports or on airplanes, but I just did.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
An Opportunity
When your eyes are open just enough you finally see an opportunity rise out of the ground, on the horizon. Majestic and powerful, he will take you with him, lifting you out of the routine you've lived in for so long. Here he comes with his big wings spread, get ready to jump into his claws. He's not going to hurt you, but he may scratch you a bit because his claws are not very soft. Up you go, higher than an airplane or a rainbow, or a dream, he takes you, soaring through cumulus clouds and spots of orange sunset light.
Ah! His furry claws tickle a little bit, causing you to laugh as the adrenaline speeds through your veins, to your fingertips. You are almost flying yourself, yet helpless without his powerful wings navigating the sky. And he is beautiful, this creature that you had never imagined because your mind can't create to the extent that it ought to. His wings are bright blue with a stunning palette of shades, muddled with gold speckles and green splotches burning like embers in a passionate fire. The undercoat of his wings are all you see above you. His golden claws grip you and you hang, legs dangling like flower petals or leaves. you don't know what you did to deserve this ride, astounded by the new perspective you now have on the land. Its vastness overwhelms you, and how small it makes you feel, but how exciting is it all! You even let out a loud cry to the bird, attempting to communicate joy in the way you know best.
Hello world! How big you are! I am discovering you in every direction and all I can see are areas unknown to me.
And you don't want to close your eyes because the landscape is so glorious.
Turns out the opportunity has a destination in mind, unfortunately you can't be in the sky forever gripped in his royal hand. After awhile the ground begins to come towards you. The houses and people settle around you and you need to leave the opportunity's claws. Now the investigation begins. What is this new place and why does it feel so strange? What is strange about it? The adventure stops and you realize you have so much work ahead of you. Now you have to comprehend your surroundings as if it were a research project.
Where am I? Where was I taken? All I see are Xs and Ys and I can't seem to do the equation very well and don't know the answers.
And like research, you must be proactive and study. Set a hypothesis and find evidence or clues. Set goals.
As you live in this new place you find you are growing taller and you're surprised by how many sections of your brain had never been explored. You can feel them become alive like a lite-brite, forming different pictures of what you'd like to be, solidifying convictions.
All around you has become new and although you hadn't recognized it, you let it take you.
Ah! His furry claws tickle a little bit, causing you to laugh as the adrenaline speeds through your veins, to your fingertips. You are almost flying yourself, yet helpless without his powerful wings navigating the sky. And he is beautiful, this creature that you had never imagined because your mind can't create to the extent that it ought to. His wings are bright blue with a stunning palette of shades, muddled with gold speckles and green splotches burning like embers in a passionate fire. The undercoat of his wings are all you see above you. His golden claws grip you and you hang, legs dangling like flower petals or leaves. you don't know what you did to deserve this ride, astounded by the new perspective you now have on the land. Its vastness overwhelms you, and how small it makes you feel, but how exciting is it all! You even let out a loud cry to the bird, attempting to communicate joy in the way you know best.
Hello world! How big you are! I am discovering you in every direction and all I can see are areas unknown to me.
And you don't want to close your eyes because the landscape is so glorious.
Turns out the opportunity has a destination in mind, unfortunately you can't be in the sky forever gripped in his royal hand. After awhile the ground begins to come towards you. The houses and people settle around you and you need to leave the opportunity's claws. Now the investigation begins. What is this new place and why does it feel so strange? What is strange about it? The adventure stops and you realize you have so much work ahead of you. Now you have to comprehend your surroundings as if it were a research project.
Where am I? Where was I taken? All I see are Xs and Ys and I can't seem to do the equation very well and don't know the answers.
And like research, you must be proactive and study. Set a hypothesis and find evidence or clues. Set goals.
As you live in this new place you find you are growing taller and you're surprised by how many sections of your brain had never been explored. You can feel them become alive like a lite-brite, forming different pictures of what you'd like to be, solidifying convictions.
All around you has become new and although you hadn't recognized it, you let it take you.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Chapter 1
This is my first chapter to a blog.
Once upon a time
there was a kingdom.
It was named Beverly
and rested on the North Shore
of Massachusetts.
Post adolescence
resided there.
They danced and played in their kingdom.
They worked and drank.
They made friends
and relationships.
Some moved on, some came back.
This is the story about one who is moving on.
And her travels here
and there
and beyond.
Once upon a time
there was a kingdom.
It was named Beverly
and rested on the North Shore
of Massachusetts.
Post adolescence
resided there.
They danced and played in their kingdom.
They worked and drank.
They made friends
and relationships.
Some moved on, some came back.
This is the story about one who is moving on.
And her travels here
and there
and beyond.
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