New Year's Resolutions 2012!!!!

Here they are, folks! My resolutions for this year:

1. Go on a road trip (>5 hours of driving)

2. Love with reckless abandon

3. Relinquish control

4. Do things that scare me

5. Find a local band and go to at least three of their concerts 

6. Save money every month

7. Spend at least 5 minutes per day looking over my finances 

8. Be before God

Auld lang signe! (Which, by the way, means days gone by...) Here's to a brand new year! 

I'm soaking my mind in these thoughts

This week has been a montage of time with family, friends, and good reads.

 From the gifts of these conversations and epic trilogy The Lord of the Rings is emerging a morsel of truth. The truth that God is whispering is both assuring and sobering. Here it is: life is hard, but it is totally worth it and full of help. There will be moments, days, years even that seem impossible but help from God, friends, and family is abundant. Frodo is a prime example of this - he is responsible for a task that would crush him on his own. He must rely on the help of his motley crew... or at least the faithful companionship of Samwise to carry on with this seemingly impossible feat. We all have our own ring to carry. Something that seems impossible and, in fact, might be if we try and go it alone.

Here are the thoughts that  keep me going on my own perilous journey:

• Finding order in life is like riding a unicycle- you constantly have to be moving and readjusting ...this paraphrased comment came from Curtis Martin by way of a great chat with Hilary. An apt comment when thinking of the challenges that await us in life. Never is  there a dull moment and never is there a moment when autopilot is an option. Like riding a unicycle you constantly have to be assessing the situation and making little adjustments. 
• "Have patience. Go where you must go, and hope!" In this episode of LOTR Gandalf is charing the dwarf and elf to continue being faithful to their journey. He is not merely ushering them on, but challenging them to see the possibilities that lie in the future... possibilities that are full of hope, not dispair.  
• "Be very small and very loving" ...this was advice from Father Dave Nix and I just can't stop thinking about it. How true!! If you are very small and very loving you can also be very patient, very maleable, very humble... and not take yourself too seriously. 

I feel like Christmas continues to be a big hug from God. A quiet God. A simple God. A humble God. A God so humble as to make Himself a tiny child. This God is willing to become so small to show His love is asking me - tiny me - to become big in order to be His hands and feet on this earth. His request requires thoughts like these about order, hope, and being loving to go where I must go. Bear my own ring. And to hope. 

Art

I was struggling to feel that art had a viable place in my life. I mean, what is it really? What is it's role? How is it different from being just plain materialistic? I wrestled for almost a year with this question and then I got my answer. 

A few months back I journaled about my heart. A common topic for me to write about, but this entry seemed to articulate something that had not yet been said. This time I described the landscape of my heart. A heart that has been tattered and warn. One that has known love and war. I described the walls, the wild garden, the goings on there, and I even wrote about a single chair in the middle on which I sit. I had spent plenty of time thinking about my heart, but never quite described what it looks like. I had never made time to take a survey of its topography. 

Two days later, on a cool afternoon, I took a little walk through my neighborhood. Per usual, I admired the architecture, the colors, and the gardens. I moseyed by victorian tutors and modern duplexes, vacant lots, and overgrown ones with broken windows. And then, almost suddenly, I found myself walking with a spirit of purpose- like I was looking for something, but with no idea what. I passed by a cafe and a man walking his dog, and then a construction zone. My speed picked up as I completed the stretch of sidewalk where the beat of hammers echoed and power tools declared their presence.  I emerged past a chain-link fence and saw to my right a beautiful scene. On a large corner lot, surrounded by wispy greenery, was my heart. Three walls, crumbling and ready for collapse. Some wild flowers in the distance. And with impecable placement- the chair. I was moved almost to tears to see for myself the exterior scene which I knew to be real interiorly. I climbed up the small hill and gingerly sat down on the rickety chair. I took everything in as the chilly breeze caressed my face. In a matter of days the walls would be torn down, the land repurposed, and the chair gone. But for that moment I just sat. I was sitting in my heart. I was thinking about how grateful I was for the structure that once stood there. Grateful and yet sad for what had taken place and for all those who visited. And then, perhaps carried by the breeze, I experienced hope for what was to come. Hope for the structure. Hope for new visitors. New experiences. New life. And then, because it was time, I got up and walked home. I left my heart to be reshaped and repurposed. 

As I reflected to an artist friend on my stroll he shook his head and uttered to me, "now that is art." I think he's right.

Friday night and the lights are low...

It's Friday night at 6:21pm and I'm sitting in my bedroom wondering what to do tonight. Obvi I'm not going out on the town, but I have a good few hours before I hit the hay and I'm just not sure what to do with them. I think the problem is this- I'm caught between two worlds. One  world of carefree, creative, right-brain, timelessness and the other of structured, efficient, accomplished, left-brain, achievements. These two worlds make up my world, but neither seem to exist at the same time. I just can't seem to unwind after an intense week at work and I feel that I can either get a few things done around the house and be bound by time or go down to my studio and allow time to pass unnoticed while I make a new creation that will not help me to "check anything off my list." In light of the other, neither seems appealing.

Currently, I'm reading a book by Betty Edwards called "Drawing on the Right side of the Brain" which sheds light on crossing over between left and right brain. It's delightfully insightful on the topic and gives plenty of exercises and tips to make the switch. I've already seen my drawing skills improve and had a great time learning about the psychology on the topic.  The problem is that I can't seem to have both at the same time. Either I have zero awareness of time, cleanliness, or other normal restrictions and I'm wildly creative or I am structured, clean and bound to time like someone receiving an hourly wage and have no creative inklings.

What's a girl to do? Is there a middle ground? Can creativity and order exist simultaneously? Can life's metronome aid in the conception of new beauty? I don't know the answer, but I am going to test it out tonight. I'm going to do a couple of quick chores and then set the timer for two hours, pour another glass of wine, blast Astrud Gilberto, and head down to my studio. I'll keep you posted on the fruits of my labor.

All Grown Up

I was never too engaged when watching stand-up comedy. Not until Mr. Jerry Seinfeld put his finger on something that I was never able to quite articulate. In a moment of genius he painted an image of the difference between being a kid and being a grown up. Jerry pinned the tail on my childhood donkey.

Kids don't want other kids to wait, they must "wait up" Would you "wait up" When you're little life is up, you're growing up, everything's is up. Wait up! Hold up, shut up. Mom, I'll clean up, hold up, let me stay up... For parents of course it's just the opposite… Just calm down. Slow down. Come down here. Sit down. You are grounded. Put that down. Keep it down in there.

Mr. Seinfeld, hats off to you! I couldn't have said it better myself! When you are little life IS up!! But now that you're an adult, was that "up" you imagined so long ago everything it was cracked up to be?? I’ve asked myself the very same thing.

Let me paint you a picture of what I was like as a little tyke:
When I was a child I absolutely could NOT sit still. I would spend hours at my aunt and uncle's house with my cousins who were years older than me. They could be as still as the couch they were sitting on when watching movies or TV. They would play with their Barbies quietly for hours upon hours. I, in contrast, would struggle to sit still for even one minute- even while watching my favorite movies I couldn't quite enjoy myself until I jumped up and down on one leg and then zoomed around the room a few times. Sitting still was beyond my tiny body's capabilities. My cousins were so prim and proper and I was...well...not.... I wanted to sit still like my cousins. I wanted to be well behaved. I wanted to be grown up, but I didn't have it in me.

It was tough being so hyper. Being so little. Being everything but grown up. Even the triumphs were minimal. I remember the first time I could wash my hands in the sink without a step stool. That was a magical day and it may have been my first taste of real progress toward actually “growing up” but I knew I wasn’t actually grown up… maybe on my way, but not a grown up yet.

Years after I could wash my hands in the sink without a stool I began attending school. I did ok, but I had a disadvantage... I was never wired to function as a student. My frenzied fleeting and flighty mind never quite comprehended the concept of what it meant to use a notebook correctly. You may be wondering, what do you mean use a notebook correctly? Is it even possible to mess up using a notebook?? Well, my friends, I managed to find a way to use a notebook incorrectly... I didn't catch on until 3rd grade that when writing in a notebook you begin at the first page and write in each subsequently until you reach the end of the notebook. Nope. Not me. I just flipped around, wherever I felt like it and used whatever page I wanted. It never occurred to me to go in order. My mind didn’t work like that. It all seemed so hard, so difficult, like everything would be easier if I were just grown up!!!

As the days rolled on and I did begin to grow up I entered that magical land called Middle School. An enchanted place of braces and body odor, high-water pants, and a deep seeded fear of all social encounters. By the time I found myself emerged in that cesspool of awkward I was beginning to think that growing up wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I mean, if growing up really meant experiencing the excruciating emotions of anger, sadness, irritation and irrational happiness all within the course of 4 minutes was I actually interested?? Or to have my teeth laden with wires and brackets which harbored a whole host of food particles in any given day- is that what it meant to "grow up." I'm not trying to scare those of you with children, I'm just saying that middle school can be quite the unpleasant experience. Grow up, grow up, grow up, I kept thinking as a child, but this growing up thing wasn't exactly panning out.

Middle school did pass (thank goodness) and it was off to high school. I’ll spare you the stories of how I tried to be more grown up than actually I was … “Hosting parties” when friends’ parents were out of town was one way I attempted to be more grown up but that story is for another speech. But I will say that high school was a turning point. It was then that I tasted the sweet reward of my very first real job and received my very first real paycheck. The restaurant where I was hosting and bussing tables issued a first check to me and for the first time in my life – well besides the hand watching experience without a stool- I actually felt grown up!! I had money in the bank that I earned and it wasn’t just for chasing around little people. A real adult hired me and thought I did a good enough job to give me money in return! It felt like a truly grown up moment!! In retrospect I know that I didn’t just feel like I grew up I DID grow up!! I realized that being grown up wasn’t merely handed to you… you have to earn it. That’s what it means to grow up! As I said before high school was a turning point… because not only did I smell the sweet aroma of grown-up-ness… It was in high school that I also came upon the more unpleasant odor of toil and responsibility. School became more difficult. The pressures of impending college seemed to loom. I began to experience the joys of having money… and the sorrows of spending it all…

High school passed, college too. I rode out the moments of stress. I rode out the unpleasant times of failing a class or getting a speeding ticket. Bit by bit I built an arsenal of grown up skills. I learned to cook. I learned to clean up after myself. I learned to live with complete strangers. I gathered treasures on the way. Bits of wisdom here… pieces of advice there. And now, well, I am grown up. I’m an adult. I don’t know how it happened or when, but I think it had something to do with choosing to grow up. Taking those tiny steps toward “grown-up-hood” earning the grown up gold stars like buying groceries, paying bills…being responsible, mowing the lawn, getting toothpaste or toilet paper before they run out. I can say now after years of wishing I could grow up I have… and I love it! It’s better than I would have even imagined as a little girl who wanted it so badly. I can even sit still and use a notebook!

Czeched Inn

After an epic adventure in Spain Trish, Jake, Jeff and I took a hot pink jet to leg three of our trip. We arrived this evening in Prague and are staying at a place that is actually called 'Czech Inn.' Hilarious!

We ate a delicious traditional Czech meal of gnocci, chicken goody, sausage with mustard and horseradish; cucumber, tomato, and feta salad, and beer! Afterwards we smoked a hooka in the loft of a Bohemian hooka bar (sadly I didn't snap any pics) and we drank darjeeling tea and white wine. There was a little puppy at the bar who kept biting my fingers and the whole thing made me feel like I was in college again.

We're back in the hostel for a good nights sleep and there are rumors we'll find some jazz tomorrow.

The pictures above are of our hot pink jet and of Trish waiting for our ride to the airport. More adventures to come!!!

We

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Spainish musings, Spanish miracles

The country of Spain has been most gracious host for the past two weeks. It seems as though time here is nonexistant. Rather then it passing with ticking seconds the moments seem to pulse through multi-course meals, beautiful scenary, long conversations, wine and cidra (a Spanish hard cider) at every dinner, laughter, song, and changed lives. So far there have been three chapters which mark my time here.

The first chapter had only 5 main characters and a whole slew of supporting roles. Trish, Jeff, Jake, Sarah, and I departed from DIA on Thursday for 26 strait hours of travel. The vehicles included a Lufthansa flight on a massive bowing 747, two small jets, a bus, and a giant red Mercedes van which I had the privlidge of driving through the beautiful hilly Galician countryside. Together, the 5 of us spent 5 days preparing for the conference, meeting with the monks, the caterer, setting up the rooms, and working out final logistics. By the time our time of preparation came to an end we had many new friends. Lee, the hospitador from Texas who is a retired school teacher and stays at the monestary each August to welcome passing camino pilgrims. Marie Jose, our caterer (and now facebook friend) who bent over backwards to feed up to 170 people 3 times per day. Helene, the french pilgrim who realize she thought she was pregnant after walking the Camino for 3 weeks so she stopped at Samos and attended our conference. Hermano Gilliermo, the romanian brother who was fantastic and incredibly querky and gave us many things to laugh about. Among the ranks were also Brother Alberto, a Sean Connary look alike, Manuel, a live in at the monestary, Jesus (pronounced with a soft J,) Donny, our favorite waiter, and many other kind faces. Those first 5 days felt like a month and they concluded with a typical long 4 course meal and disbelief that the next chapter was about to begin.

Chapter two was equally fantastic, but far more exausting. It began at 8:30 pm on Tuesday, August 9th with the first busload of American and International students. The five of us checked them in and showed them to their humble accomidations. There was a group from Mylasia where only 3% of the population is Catholic. They said they are often pursecuted for their faith and were eager and surprised to meet other young Christians. Also, there were 20 Austrians who deserve their own post. They embodied a remarkable blend of service, kindness, musical talent, and spunk. A delegation of UK students, mostly from the University of Birmingham, were also represented. Their British accent paired with the wide marble halls of the monestary made me feel like I was at Hogwarts and any moment Harry Potter or the sorting hat would appear. When all was said and done it was 3am and we had 130 little heads in bunk-beds. The course of chapter two included inspirational and practical talks from nearly 20 speakers, time for siesta, soccar, long meals, and praise and worship. On Saturday we walked 14 kilometers to the town of Sarria and then a bus ride into Santiago where the camino de Santiago concludes. The pilgrimage from Samos to Sarria was spent in silence and those 3 and a half hours of quiet where a great opportunity to reflect on the days spent in Samos, which translated from Swabian means 'place of prayer.' Our final day of chapter two was Sunday with few thing planned. We had late Mass, brunch (which the Spaniards couldnt wrap their heads around,) a long siesta, and a pachanga (which translated pretty much means ruckus party.) The pachanga was hosted by the Hostel Victoria where we had eaten most of our meals throughout the week. They hired a bunch of high school students who played traditional Galician music which sounded like a combination of ska, big band, and polka. We drank moonshine from that region which was served warm and was lemon flavored with coffee beans floating in it. I weezed every time i took a sip. With festive libations and the high schoolers playing fiercly, all 150 of us danced into the wee hours of the morning. Chapter three began early the next day. We hopped on a bus headed to Madrid at 7am after taking one last sweep through the monestary. The monks saw us off and we were headed to meet the other 1.5 million pilgrims for the 23rd World Youth Day. Three quarters through the 6 hour bus ride we stopped in the charming walled city of Avila. There we visited the cloister where St. Theresa of Avila grew in love of God. We saw the cell where she lived, the place where St. John of the cross heard her confessions, and the actual picture he drew hundreds of years ago of the crucifixion. We entered the walls of the city, had Maxum bars (the best ice cream bars in the world,) and returned to the bus for the last leg of the journey. For the record, even though it seems like spending 6 hours on a bus would be miserable, it was not so for this ride. Some guys on my bus were playing guitars and a jimbe while everyone sang along for two hours. Around the 3 hour point a kid got up and gave his testimony over the p.a. system and then we prayed a rosary. When we werent singing or praying we were talking and laughing. Even the stops were fun. At one rest stop I drank coffee and went on a power walk with Sister Mary Emily. There was much joy to be had on that journey. Finally, around 6:30 we made it to St. Edith Stein Parish in Madrid. We celebrated Mass and then met up with our host families. I was paired with 5 young women from the states and when our names were called we were invited to stay with a family so adorable i can barely stand it. The mother, Maria is small and wirey, she is kind eyed, but packs a punch. She has to because she and her husband Robert have six adorable, but somewhat wild children. Robert is perpetually smoking a cigar, he works into the night, he seems a little scary at first, but after observing him for a small while it becomes clear that he's tender hearted. Their children range in age from 14 to 9 months. They are always running around, they're joyful, inquisative, and they love having Americans in their home. Most of them speak english and even if they dont, they find ways of communicating. The boys and I have been building a fire truck out of Legos for the past couple nights and the three year old girl, Gracia (pronounced with a lisp in true Spanish form) who doesnt speak a lick of English (save being able to count to 13) sits in my lap or asks to be held when we are together. It's truly heaven on earth being here. During the day we're with other English speaking pilgrims at the Palaceo de Deportes (the palace of sports) which is essentially the Pepsi center of Madrid. FOCUS is working at a booth and we've been listening to talks and welcoming other young Catholics all week. There is much more to come about chapter three. Tomorrow a new friend, Kira, and I are going to the Prado, the famous Spanish museum. We may also be there for the papal welcome and I'm sure the day will bring with it more adventures. I'm humbled by the blessings and joys of this trip. I cant believe I have been here two weeks already. Two more to go!

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