Supernatural

Part One: There are many people in my life with differing religions, faiths, beliefs, and/or understandings. I have always celebrated our differences. I have always found great value in coming to better know and respect others' perspectives, and, until recently, I had never felt attacked for my own faith, despite these differences I have long acknowledged between myself and many of my acquaintances and friends, including my many friends who are atheists. The attack manifested itself, in part, as a supposed joke, but while others laughed I didn't find humor in it at all. When someone shouts out on the street, "and just remember- God doesn't exist" in lieu of saying goodnight, besides being completely offensive, it is as if I were to turn and say "and just remember - God loves you" in order to dishearten my "opponent"...except that I would never make a supposed joke out of something I believe in so wholly. I haven't quite yet decided what was more upsetting to me - that he didn't even respect me enough to say goodbye in any semblance of a kind way, or that he clearly, proudly disrespects my faith - which, by the way, he's never asked me about or given me a chance to even share with him- despite my respect of his.

My initial reaction was that I don't find value in arguing about religious differences, but what I realized as I walked away, and as I've since reflected on that night, is that I don't find value in arguing against others' religions or lack thereof. What I do find value in is learning what others believe or don't believe, without trying to tear those beliefs to shreds when they differ from mine. Perhaps this is because of the nature of my own. The "friend" whose "goodbye" was, in actuality, extremely hurtful, spent an extended amount of time not only expressing his own views, which I have always respected despite their differences from mine, but then went further into essentially trying to invalidate belief in creationism. While the effort was valiant, it was pointless. I've thought about this so much since...he continually spoke of all that is "irrelevant," but what I find "irrelevant" is the war between the natural and the supernatural. He went on and on to say all the reasons why nature does not require anything but itself to exist, why the supernatural is not necessary to explaining life, etc...etc...I happen to fully understand his point, and even to agree in a sense, except that I do, despite that understanding, believe there is a divine construction behind every bit of his beloved science. My religion, then, is not in contrast with science, but completely allows for its striking complexity. Sure, he is right...we probably don't need God in order to explain the science of the universe. Science proves more and more every day, explains incredible intricacies, stunning interconnectedness between our world and the cosmos. Just as my "friend" said that his fact/science-based (let's call them) beliefs were not static but could change according to new discoveries, so I don't believe my own beliefs to be fixed. But until that same science can prove to me that there is no God, my faith in a creator will remain.

When it comes down to it, at least my religion has taught me the value of kindness, of treating the people I respect with love, regardless of our differences. Apparently, disappointingly, this is something super-natural.

Part Two: What all of this has made me wonder is why is it that having this understanding and knowledge of scientific answers I still believe in God?
Just a few answers, for my own sake...

My sister: Bekah, is, to me, beauty and spirit and happiness incarnate. She is the most incredible person, and I see her function in not only my life, but in the lives of everyone she touches. She is not here, by chance, because atoms happened to mix just right. She is here for a purpose-many purposes even. She is here, at the very least, to make my life better. She is here to keep my parents young. She is here because we needed her to bring us joy. And my own life has greater value because of her part in it. Every time I look at her it makes me feel closer to God. Every time she runs to my arms when we have been apart for too long I experience far more than love. I trust, I know, that she is a gift that was given.

Music: I suppose that by music, I mean pleasure. Music is what brings my life the most superfluous form of pleasure these days, hence the categorization. Music is, by means of science, a touch. The sound waves do touch and arouse something in our ear, essentially enabling them to take on a role of comfort. It seems so unbelievably far from reasonable to me to accept that this subtle caress of a sound wave, which makes sound, and thus music, pleasant to our sensitive ears , exists purely by accident.

Healing: I was bloodied, beaten, and abandoned by someone I deeply, mistakenly loved for a very long time. And in the darkness of that nightmare I found myself wrapped up in the comfort of arms that had no idea I needed them. The morning after it happened, I met my neighbor for the first time, after having lived next to him for an entire year without ever meeting. Because of him, and our instantaneous friendship, I came to meet someone whose love would ultimately carry me through months of healing. That same person reminded me, on our first night getting to know each other, of my long-lost dream of moving to England...It is, in large part, because of him that I am here living my dream in the UK. And I truly believe that I met him because God intervened in my shattered world. It is not by chance that these things happen. Is it coincidence that five hours after the attack I would stand in a room with a broken rib and sing an audition that would get me into the two best choirs I've ever sung in? Is it coincidence that when I was at my most broken I got into those choirs which were in every way responsible for saving my life afterward? I wonder which answer is easier - that it was just nature working itself out, or that it was something greater.

Communication: I often feel directly communicated with by God. My "friend" would probably call it a delusion, or a projection, at best, but again, until I'm proven wrong I don't feel that I have any reason not to believe in this relationship, and it strengthens every day. A few months ago a former employer of mine sent me a link to this group called "The Brave Girls Club." It sounded very lame....I don't usually join groups such as this with somewhat cheesy, feminist titles. But, for some reason, I joined. Here are a few examples of how this has touched my life since, and how I've felt directly communicated with again and again:

I'll start with an email I received back in February. I subscribed, through the Brave Girls Club, to receive daily truth emails. I had been getting the emails but never opening them for quite a while, reducing them to nothing more than rejected spam. But I had a situation occur on Valentines Day when a friend's unwanted advances and behavior left me in an uncomfortable, difficult place. I was entirely uncertain as to how to respond or move on from this. My first instinct, and the advice of many friends was to completely cut this person out of my life in order to demonstrate that this sort of behavior was unacceptable. I struggled for a few days with this, not wanting to be hurtful, and yet knowing that I had to draw a line in order to make myself clear, and then, for the first time I opened a daily truth, and this is what I found: 

I had an audition for Genesis Sixteen last week. It is a new training program put on by Harry Christophers and his world-renowned early music ensemble, The Sixteen, in order to train up and coming ensemble singers, and is essentially my dream program. While I know my chances of making the final cut are quite slim, it was an honor to be shortlisted, and I knew I had to make the most out of the experience of auditioning in itself, regardless of the outcome. Still, I had trouble sleeping for about a week before, in nervous anticipation of that fleeting moment in time. On the days leading up to my audition these were the daily truths that found their way to my inbox:

Daily Truth on the Morning of my Genesis Sixteen Audition...

"Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness. Kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile." ~Mother Theresa

An American's Guide To London

An evening view of the Thames

I feel happiest whenever I am going somewhere. I mean this in utterly every sense. It's as though I need to feel like I am in motion in order to feel satisfied with where I am, or even where I'm going. As long as there's a destination waiting for me at the other end I can almost feel the back beat of life, unheard, keeping me dancing along. These last few days I gave in to the desire to get away for a weekend, albeit one that I probably couldn't afford, and I took a trip with some girlfriends, leaving behind my quaint little city of York and exchanging it for the excitement of London for a few crazy days and nights.

The trip started early in the morning on Friday, and I got back just in time (within minutes) for a choir rehearsal Monday night (prepping for an upcoming concert of Handel's 'Solomon' at York Minster later this week!). I didn't sleep the night before we left, feeling so excited to get up and go. I met my friends just after 6 am, and we made our way to the Megabus stop in city centre, backpacks and sleeping bags in tow. Before I go too far I first need to take a moment to celebrate the fact that I can get to London for £9...Arriving there, surviving a weekend there, etc...is an entirely different story, but still! £9 to get to London! I hope it never stops thrilling me that London is a relatively short, inexpensive hop on the bus/train away. I was determined to sleep, but I managed to keep my eyes open long enough to watch some sheep safely grazing along the way. I also noted a Yorkshire Tea truck delivering tea to a shop, as well as an "unusally-sized load" truck carrying an ancient steam engine on its back. I am more accustomed to cheap mobile homes being carried atop/behind trucks like these, so to see a giant steam engine was sort of amazing. Germa and I shared a good "did you just see that?!" look (one of many throughout the weekend) as we passed by on the highway. It's small things like these that remind you you're not in America any more. You notice a woman putting on fluorescent pink nail polish on the train, but then just as you realize you've probably been staring too long and too noticeably, a man pushing a trolley of sweets, teas, cakes, and biscuits blocks your view while collecting a pound or two and repeatedly singing out a chorus of "cheers" to/with his happy customers until he pushes on to the next carriage. But not until he's paused there long enough to remind you where in the world you are. And when the trolley driver has finally moved along, the woman with the nail polish has put the bottle away, and it's time to look out the window, beyond the confines of this fast-moving train to the alien world outside where every bit of shifting landscape seems drastically different from the scenery that comes next. What's great, really, is that none of this even matters because - Next Stop: London!

Platform 9 3/4...heading to Hogwarts, or something like it

When I stepped out of the train I was standing in St. Pancras Station, right next to King's Cross, so after hugs had been bestowed upon our friend, Hannah, who had come to meet us/pick us up there, I suggested we run over and start things out right, with some photo ops at the makeshift platform 9 and 3/4. It was such a fun, silly way to start out our weekend, and the day only got better from there. 

We headed back to Hannah's place, which turned out to be an amazing little flat within Guildhall School of Music and Drama's housing, in the Barbakan...this is also the place the London Symphony Orchestra calls home (squeal!). It struck me as we walked through the gates of this Guildhall accommodation to drop off our sleeping bags, etc...that I really am living the life, perhaps accidentally, that I've always wondered at. I've read books and books about the music industry, since I was very young, about the harsh world, about 'making it,' about not 'making it.' My library is packed with books like 'Mozart in the Jungle,' and other memoirs of disillusionment from within the classical musical world, but even as I've read these insider stories about the out of control orgy of sex, drugs, and seemingly inevitable diminished appreciation for music that comes with the career I'm pursuing, I've still been determined to be the exception and cling on to what makes this whole classical music world so intriguing and appealing to me. I looked in front, beside, and behind me, and felt a bit overcome, realizing that I was walking into that flat with three gifted string players from Rollins, Peabody, and Guildhall, who also happen to be my friends now. And it dawned on me in a way that never has before that I'm in the 'scene' that I've sort of lusted after forever. These incredible people who I get to make weekend escapes with are just a few of the people I'm blessed to call lifelong friends. But they also belong to the group of my friends and acquaintances, most of whom are in the best music conservatories, colleges, and universities around the world. To get to be a part of that network is unbelievable. I write these blogs, in part, because I'm trying to keep track, and trying to keep some sort of a hold of this crazy reality that gets more impossible to turn away from every day. It's such an addicting life, and it's just so cool (for lack of a better term)! It was amazing, though sometimes maddening, to wake up to singers, organists, and pianists warming up in the practice rooms below my dorm rooms at Westminster, and now that I'm over here it is so COOL to have a place to crash in London where I get to wake up in the morning (or afternoon...) to some of the best up and coming musicians - violinists and jazz trumpeters to be specific - warming up in their bedrooms next door. I'm not blind to the realities of this industry, including the sex appeal that comes with its somewhat incestuous quality, being a relatively (actually) small community, but I'm also really beginning to feel glad to be a part of the generation I'm in. I used to spend a lot of energy wishing I could just skip over this time of becoming and jump ahead to the being, but I'm enjoying right where I am right now, growing every day it seems, probably more than I ever have in my entire life. Sorry, Blair Tindall, but I'm finding that the classical world today is far, far more than the grim world of "sex, drugs, and classical music" that existed in your generation.

Anyway, that's my musician's rant for the day. What I actually wanted to do with this post was to offer a very quick, small 'American's Guide to London' of sorts. I feel equipped to do so not because I have successfully "done" London, but because I have now, on a couple of occasions learned what not to do.

1. A Few Words on Planning: London is actually not that big, but it is well worth taking time to understand its connectedness before trying to take it on by foot. It can seem like it's easily manageable, and it is provided you understand its geography a bit, but for anyone planning a trip, do yourself a huge favor and take the time to familiarize yourself with the tube/bus system, and the layout of the city. It's absolutely walkable, but it's worth planning a few key things to accomplish in your day, and mapping out how exactly you plan on grouping these destinations in order to minimize travel, because it is EXPENSIVE and time consuming to get from place to place. Holy cow, this city is sooo expensive. I'm not an advocate for over-planning a weekend getaway, or even a vacation. In fact I absolutely believe that the best experiences tend to happen on a whim, and in my experience these things are never expected. Romantic, spontaneous love affair in Scotland - case in point. Still, a little bit of planning is a must for London. It's not like with New York where you can just wander anywhere, and everything is sort of magic, and you can always find food at any hour of the day, in any region. In London, instead, you may end up navigating through classy, business districts with hardly any signs of civilization aside from coats on hooks in the windows of modern skyscrapers which stretch on for miles. You may, however, come upon a random square at night that happens to light up below your feet in neon, changing lights (see above picture). My tip: At least make a good plan of which side of the Thames you want to be on, decide which walks are worth doing, and which trips are worth doing by bus or train. Take the time to investigate which areas of the city stay open late. A lot of them shut down surprisingly early. Trust me - it will save you tons of time, money, hungry bellies, and wandering.

2. Night Life: The girls and I went for the sake of dancing, drinking, eating, and basically merry-making together. These things should probably make up at least part of everyone's list of "things to do in London." The night life is supposedly spectacular, right? We did not have especially good luck this weekend, although we still managed to have a great time due to great company, but I think I've figured out why we struggled, and I'd like to save anyone from the dives we went to by offering some advice. Internet guides are untrustworthy, as are travel guides. I'm pretty sure they must be sponsored, and if they suggest free entry details, or cheap cover deals, they are more than likely dishonest or misinformed, or at the very least out of date by the time you get there, if the club still exists by the time you get there...we experienced all of these things. The way to avoid it is to understand this rule of going out in London: You have to go big or go home. There is no such thing, it seems, as a small night out in London. If you do it you have to do it right. Get out early. Pre-game if you must at home, but the best thing to do is to get gussied up, head to a restaurant/pub/bar/club for some food and drinks early (in advance of 8:30 pm I'd say), share a pitcher of cocktails to keep things cheap, and wait it out inside so that you can beat the cover charge to get in. People will get there eventually, and it beats out the alternative of showing up late into the night and having to pay an outrageously expensive cover charge (£15-£20 sometimes UGH!) just to get in. Another must/alternative is to get on the guest list for a reputable place a couple of days in advance....not the day of! If you know you're planning a trip then get to the website of the club and get your name(s) on the guestlist. It might not guarantee you free entry, but it will more than likely get you a half price cover charge at the very least, and that alone makes it worth it. It needs to be done at least a day in advance to make sure you get on though, so don't fall into the trap we did by waiting too late, and be sure to do this ahead of time. It will be well worth it, and it makes even the most 'posh' clubs affordable on a budget. 

3. Markets: Find out where/when open air markets are and head to them for food once in a while, instead of the fancier indoor restaurants. There are SO many options in these markets, so if you're traveling with friends or kids it's easy to please everybody. The food is always really inexpensive, yummy, and you're supporting locals which is always great.

Touristy, I know, but it just never gets old looking out on this

4. Where to Go/Places to See: Like I said, I don't like to advocate over-planning, but if you're looking for the kind of stereotypical London experience, make sure you head over to the Trafalgar Square area, just beyond Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Parliament, the London Eye, etc...If you want to have a lovely day of touristy experience that's worth every minute, wander along the Thames, take lots of pictures, laugh at the awkward street performers, maybe drop them a pound, walk across the Westminster Bridge toward Big Ben but be sure to turn around for photo ops of the 'Eye' especially at nighttime when it's all lit up in a myriad of colo[u]rs. Head on to Trafalgar Square to see the pretty fountain with awe-inspiring, Aslan-sized statues of lions. If you want delicious, somewhat expensive Thai food, Thai Square is always a yummy option, but you can also keep going and head toward China Town, and I'm sure an Asian food craving would be indulged heartily over there as well, and perhaps for much cheaper. This is also, somewhat in the direction of Covent Garden and Leicester Square (where the movie premieres happen). It's just a great, bubbling part of town with amazing energy, lots of tourists, but also lots of classy people indulging in life. Just walking around, which is always free, is fulfilling because there's so much to see, so much people watching to do, and so much fun architecture and scenery to absorb and become a part of for a while. It's also one of the few places I've found still open on a Sunday night in England. We went there for a late night dessert and tea at Cafe Rouge. Again, the trick to vacationing on a budget is doing the right things in the right places. Cafe Rouge might otherwise be a bit too expensive for a budget like ours, but we decided to hold off on the more expensive dessert and coffee at the Thai restaurant, and went to the Cafe to indulge instead. Decadent? Yes. But it is vacation after all, and let me tell you, I ordered a french pastry of cherries and almonds baked in a fluffy batter with Chantilly cream, and my clafoutis aux cerises was worth every pence. That's why it's worth planning a little, to save an unnecessary bus ticket or two, to be able to sit with friends late at night in London and sip away at a great cup of earl grey and a clafoutis.

St. Paul's Cathedral

5. Some more must-see's and do's: The museums are free, and well worth visiting. I'm still yet to work them into my explorations of London. That will have to happen next time, and I will do so knowing exactly where they are in relation to each other so that I can travel between them efficiently this time. The major churches and abbeys- St. Paul's, Westminster, etc...charge expensive tourist entry, but if you go for services you can often get in for free. So plan on skipping the tour, and get to St. Paul's in time for an evensong service instead. It will save you the 12 Quid or whatever it is to get in, and you'll get to hear a concert of worship music, as well as experiencing the church as a living, breathing body, rather than an old, cold, merely fascinating artifact. 

So ends my guide...for now...maybe 'til next time...if my bank account somehow miraculously regenerates : )

Until then, I'm going to do my best not to forget how good this spontaneous dinner at an awesome, classic fish and chips place was:

Define Dancing

The music in this scene is so perfect. I feel like dancing...Wouldn't it be wonderful to dance in space?

Recap: The Night Thief

It's the kind of night that I wish a night thief would show up at my window and steal me away for a while...Remembering a poem I wrote in the autumn, when I came across this picture. I'll repost the link below : )

~Not All Who Wander Are Lost~: The Night Thief: "I happened upon this picture by a graphic designer, Chow Hon Lam, a while ago, and thought the creature seemed as frightening as whimsical,..."

καθαίρω

 καθαίρω (catharsis) : the purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions, especially through certain kinds of art, as tragedy or music

This post is intended to be a bit cathartic. I am hoping that in writing it I will tap into my Greek heritage a bit and purify, cleanse, and purge myself of all traces of the homesickness that is currently plaguing me. I remember first encountering the word 'catharsis' in my high school sophomore English class and thinking it would probably come in handy in my future. Here we are nearly ten years later (wow!) and I'm living on a different continent, in a different country, in a different university, with different supermarkets filled with different brands of cereal...I am in need of a catharsis.

My uncle teased me once that Facebook was actually a brag book. He called my attention to status updates and the rarity of the 'negative status' or unflattering profile pic that wasn't serving some comedic function. I've found it's definitely true. Facebook is a stage to play out the extreme dramas of our lives, or lack thereof in some cases. I've been fortunate to have lots of happy updates to make since I moved across the pond, but every once in a while I wish I could just say 'I'm not having a good day today.' I say this to purge (for the sake of the catharsis at hand), while in reality most of my days here are amazing...I am ever becoming more and more musically fulfilled; the more I get my voice out the more opportunities seem to come my way, and I depend on those opportunities to fuel my discipline and drive. That being said, I'm tired. I've said to many people that this course gives me a luxurious amount of time to delve into the music I'm passionate about, and to read and learn, and grow as a performer. But time continues to tick, and even that sense of luxury is proving to be a bit deceiving. There is so much to do in such little time. Three recitals in one year! Where did term two even go?? I can not believe there are only two weeks of classes left before this term ends, and then it's our nearly 6-week spring break. Apparently this is the phase when I experience the pressure of utter self-discipline. During my Easter holiday, when I'm planning to travel at the very least to Italy and France, I'm also going to have to prepare my recital, conduct all of the research I've been delaying for various reasons, and write my next essay. I also have to prepare my audition for Genesis Sixteen. This might be the most challenging phase of my academic career thus far. And, naturally, it seems to be happening at a period of - I hope - intense growth in my musicianship.

I don't know how others cope with the experience of feeling overwhelmed, but I have a tendency, which I've always linked to the annoying perfectionist in me, to shut down in times of extreme stress or overwhelm. It's as if my body wants to go to sleep, or hide from everything it knows it has to do exceedingly well in order to satisfy this soul of mine. I've been busy with lots of performing over the last few weeks (learning a very challenging piece of contemporary music in about three days, getting to sing my second St. Matthew Passion in one year!), so it is not as though I've actually shut down in some depressive funk or anything this time, but I am feeling intense pangs of homesickness, which is a new experience for me being in this place I've come to love so much, despite its distance from all that has been familiar and lovely for most of my life. Anyway, I've decided to attempt to ward off any impending slumps by engaging in a catharsis now. I think the best way to do this, as explained by my afore-mentioned high school English teacher, is to face those things that I'm aching from and for head on and see where it takes me.

For starters, My Friends back home...The last week, and the coming weeks are presenting all sorts of reunion opportunities for many of the loves of my life. The wedding of a friend, former colleague, and the girl who has my favorite voice in the entire world was last weekend and lots of my friends got to be together and go see her start the rest of her life with the man she's loved for almost as long as I've known her. What a beautiful event, and what an occasion to start missing everybody back home a lot, knowing they get to be together and celebrate. Additionally, in a couple of weeks everybody who's anybody is going to the ACDA (American Choral Directors' Association) Festival in Chicago. Emotional challenge number one: Chicago may be my favorite city; two: I LOVE ACDA FESTIVALS; three: lots of my friends are all flying in from around the country to go together and I can't go : (

Change, or, the Breakup: I sometimes don't deal well with change. I don't tend to like change very much- ironic, I know, since I just entirely shifted my life from one part of the world to another. Still, when extreme happens it has this unparalleled ability to make me achy and heartsick. My best friend broke up with her boyfriend of over four years today...Not only is it a huge change in her life, but in mine too, because he had become a big part of my life over the years too. He was there to take care of me when I had my own very painful breakup, and I've come to love him so much over the years, to consider him a regular part of my life. What's wonderful, at least, is that he's wonderful and I know I don't have to say goodbye to a friend. In fact, I'm gratefully certain I'll get to keep track of him thanks to Facebook. So, here I am trying to be the supportive friend to both my best friend and her ex, and my heart aches for him, and for a sweet time that's now becoming a happy memory. Even more so, of course, it aches for my best friend. Since, and even long before she made me 'woman up' and buy my own tampons for the first time while singing 'you make me feel like a natural woman' at the top of our lungs in Wal-Mart, my Elizabeth has been my world. And my world is big, so that's saying something! She is the most spirited, giving, fun person in the entire history of ever. Seriously, I found her! When I was 14! No need to keep searching - I know right where she is! And I get to talk to her a lot! And I also happen to look up to her in inexplicable ways. In addition to knowing exactly how to make you laugh when no one else can, no one in the universe can play with your hair and make the worst hurts feel better the way she can. And right now it's my turn, and all I wish I could do is to give the smallest bit of that comfort back to her, but it's impossibly difficult to do with an ocean between us. The same Facebook that's helping me deal with my distance from him, is just making me feel farther away from her. We are connected in so many ways, and I just hope so much that she knows, somehow, that today our connectedness was more than transcontinental. That every happiness of mine is freely hers to soak up for as long as she needs it/me.

Self Image: I have lost nearly 30 pounds in the last year, a little less than half of which I've lost since moving to the UK. I have a long way to go, and it's something I don't talk much to anyone about because it's a very personal struggle of mine. A big part of my new year resolution was to have a (not idealistic, but) better self image. Part of achieving this, I knew, was to continue my weight loss and also try to engage in lots more physical activity throughout/despite the lingering winter lull. I'm extremely proud and excited by the progress I'm making. I have, admittedly, never been able to say out loud that I feel like I'm physically beautiful. But I'm making strides, and I've felt it a lot more lately. Perhaps it's the beautiful company I'm blessed to keep, but I'm feeling more and more confident every day. I know it's in part because I'm achieving goals, but it's also because I'm realizing that these goals are just bringing me closer to what I already am. Which brings me to the next struggle of my 'now' - the Unrequited love of my life. The pressure I've put on myself to be physically what I know I am capable of being is thrilling, especially since I'm making such rapid progress, but it can also be extremely draining, emotionally and physically. And while I know it's not directly linked, I do acknowledge that part of my poor self image probably relates to the fact that I have the greatest unrequited love story I've ever heard, and that I live it every day, and that I fight feeling not beautiful enough with just about every breath I take. This is not helpful when you're a performer and have to stand up in front of audiences who you know are equally enjoying and critiquing your every sound, move, gesture, physicality, etc...But like I said, I'm getting there. I'm starting to find that I'm able to put on a great dress and stand up and yes, even feel pretty, or at least confident. I'm also making strides to acknowledge, in this process, that an unrequited love has to be left behind eventually, and can't determine the way we value our selves. It seems it's time to fully commit to moving beyond the limitations of no commitment, which is utterly liberating in theory, but it's also another one of these changes I don't like very much. And it also hurts a lot. Seriously, giving up hope that someone you love deeply might love you back one day is prettyyyy hard, especially when you're as stubborn, evidently unrealistic, and dreamily romantic as I am. I'm applying for my PhD in Performance, and will submit my application within the next few days, in hopes of staying in York for at least another three years. This is a huge step in my life. HUGE. Basically, as I write my proposal to stay, all of these things that I'm apparently working out in this cathartic post of mine are having to be ignored, or at least shuffled far out of view. Writing this proposal and letter of intent involves declaring everything I love about right now, where I am, the future I envision here, among many other things. It's somewhat challenging to do this when you're wishing someone would just say 'don't stay away from me another three years'. But it seems that's not what God has in mind for me. And keeping in line with previous posts, I'm trying my best to quiet myself, let go, and just listen. My mom has always said she believes God knows the desires of our hearts. This verse says he gives them to us. I like her version better. I know that he doesn't always give them to us the way we imagine them into being, and I think it's time to just be patient, rest, and see what comes to pass:

“Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass … Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him.” (Psalm 37:4,7)

Family: My Poppop had a surgery on his foot just after Christmas, and it has been a huge ordeal for my Aunt RaRa having to care for my beautiful, spirited Nana, who also happens to be a handful, and at least as high maintenance as I am : ) I am utterly amazed by the way that my Aunt, Uncles, and cousins have been caring for two of the people I love most in this world, but I've also felt extreme guilt not being able to be there to help and appreciate what they've been giving of themselves to nurse Poppop back to health, and keep my adventurous Nana happy. I hate seeing the ones I love hurting, and not being able to make them laugh, or relieve some of the intense pressure of their care from my Aunt, who happens to be another one of my best friends, has been really awful. My sister is my world. My mom is my best friend. My dad is my greatest confidante. I miss them. I miss home. I miss the smell of my house. I miss my kitties. I miss my dog. I miss joking around with my brother and making surprise lunch visits to him. I miss the smell of the fabric softener my mom uses. I miss waking up to a quiet house that's all messy with remnants from everybody running around early in the morning getting ready for school. I have an amazing family, which is something I don't, for one second, take for granted. The environment I grew up in was, and continues to be, a small but beautiful home, rich with music and love. I listen uncritically, but sadly, to stories of far from ideal upbringings of others in my life, and it just makes me want to hug my mom, but she's thousands of miles away: It sucks. While I know from experience that Skype cuddles are actually adorable and amazing, they're just not sufficient right now.

Alright, catharsis admitted, I am so, unbelievably happy. It is a gift that there is so much out there in the world worth missing, but there is just as much worth celebrating. I love living in England. I love living in York. I love the new people in my life. I'm even starting to love that while I let go of an unrealized love I'm making room in my heart for a real one to come along. I love the music I'm making. I love that I am so close to my flatmates that I can call them my family here. I love that every time I walk to the kitchen the tea kettle is warm. Life is, actually, really good.

Mother Goose

Nursery Rhyme

I wrapped up tonight

when the sun went to sleep,

put on a sweater,

pulled out a book. 

And I sat in the dark

until starlight peeked in

through the window

to bathe me in just enough light. 

It was then, with my fingertips

caked in dust,

I flipped a page

and climbed inside.

All my edges

began to blur,

becoming a picture

in long-dried ink.

If weeks were to pass

and you found this book

lying open on the table,

next to curdled milk,

would you look inside

and find me there,

captive in parchment,

drying up?

Would you save me - I wonder -

could you spare time to try?

If missing your voice

I'd found your eyes lost there,

beside mother's goose,

I would dive in after,

regardless of knowing

we could never get out.