Be Here Now

I was reminded of the importance of living in the moment and being where you are when you are there. I have recently deeply hurt people because I get so worried about being other places and getting to those places while I should instead be with them. Most of that is poor planning on my part and selfishness, but I was grateful that my mother called it to my attention. I hadn't realized how much I had hurt her because of the mindsets I get in when I am at home. If I'm at home, I need to be home. If I'm at school, I need to be at school. If I plan something with a person, I need to be with them; not thinking about what I should or shouldn't be doing in that moment. Not every moment can be perfectly planned for, but time can be planned out enough that credit can be given where credit is due, and time dedicated to specific things allowing for less stress later when emergencies and beautiful spontaneity comes up. I think that's part of being honest. I feared that I wouldn't get the important things done; instead I missed out on the most important thing: Spending quality time with people that I love. To overcome that fear I need to plan more precisely and then not stress when things don't go as planned. Plan ahead to eliminate fear, but live in the moment, especially with the people I love.

Simple things

It's nice to enjoy the simple things in life. Like duets on the piano, laughter of your best friend, a trail run when you're not in shape, a beautiful sunset, good conversation, watermelon with cream, and taking out the recycling. Mhmmm.
Ya know, there's still a lot I don't know about life. I don't know what I'm passionate about yet, I don't know what I think about a lot of things, but I'm getting there. And I think that's important: I'm trying to get somewhere.
I will say, though, that I am grateful for the souls that are in my life currently (either physical or in current memory). They're full of light and joy and they're an inspiration to me. People are beautiful.  All sorts. I learn so much from them and I forget that people will always make my life meaningful and productive if I take time to listen and look.
My mind and body are connected today. No kite today. What a relief.
Today I feared people would encroach on my limited time. Today I realized that it's possible to take even 15 minutes for a person and it will make the world of difference. Today I feared I wouldn't be able to keep up on a run or it would be embarrassing. Today I realized that I need to start somewhere and that it takes hard work and discipline to get where I want to go, but also that people are good and kind; sometimes it's the presence of a person that is needed more than a fast pace.

Lentil Soup

It rained today. I had my purple jacket on again, but this time I had my hood up. It blocked my peripheral vision. I tried to see how the rain made things brighter. I waited to receive something, some light; I kept my hood up.
I burned some lentil stew. I'm in the library and I smell like it.
She is mad at me, now. And I know why. I knew I wouldn't be able to focus on finals anymore. So that's why I left and walked up to the library. It was speedy. I don't stretch anymore so my legs started to tighten going up the hill. I'd do yoga, but then I would see her and she would be more mad, and I have finals.
As I all but ran into the library, I realized that half of me was ahead of myself again like when it rained last time. My mind was screaming: stop, slow down, wait a sec.
I walked into the library.
I turned around and walked back out.
My mind was far ahead of my body again, but it was turning around to tell my body to slow down and stop. Maybe I'd get further if I tried to reel it in instead of chase it this time.
I walked into the square between the sky lights above the library. I stepped in every puddle. The raindrops formed little tear drops, little balls of light hanging off the benches. I wanted to sit, but I didn't want my bum to be wet. The steps behind me died off and held back. I was happy. I didn't want him there right then. I needed space and breathing room.
I appreciated he recognized it.
The light reminded me of the mountains in the winter: when the sun shone through the helicopter whirly-birds in the trees. But, those are memories for another time. Well, no; they'll probably just stay as memories. But they were definitely a time of enlightenment. Either way I guess the rain brought light again, just different than what I thought I needed. This time it reflected movement and the absence and importance of that absence as well.
I tried to listen to each puddle as I stepped. Breathe it all in. Breathe it all out. I realized the birds were singing. I stopped.  They were coming from behind me on the left. Breathe it all in. Breathe it all out.
I looked at the red and green of the bushes in front of me. Breath it all in. Breathe it all out. I looked at the distorted cloud reflections in the tall windows. Breathe it all in. There was snow in the mountains to the right. Out.
Listen. In. Look. Out.
In.
Out.
My mind's not quite back, but it's not shuddering in the wind and churning in the air. In. I have the string, the kite is in sight, my feet are grounded, out, the string is tight and I'm controlling the movement better and I'm more aware of the wind.
I'm ready. Steps fall back in line with mine In. But I still smell like burned lentil soup. Out.
I open the door to the library. In. Questions come. Out. I wrap my string up. In.
Where do you put a kite? Breathe it all out.
It's ok; I don't need it inside.

and what is this for?

I haven't written for awhile. Nothing you don't already know, but really it is something  you don't know because you don't read my blog. Then again, I don't really know who you are either. I was thinking about this blog the other day and I thought of some of the things I wrote, and oh boy how cliche and embarrassing! Nevertheless, it was part of my life even if I gag thinking about it now. I didn't know what I wanted this blog to be about for awhile, it was about fear and sharing things I think, then it became like a journal, then it was trying to force the world to see how great I thought my life was, then about a breakup I think and then a lame attempt at a food blog...of course that was only one haha. If I'm going to keep writing I need to have a purpose in writing though, not this rollercoaster of whatever this blog has been. I can be honest still if I have a purpose for this blog. I most likely will be more honest, I think. Well, my blog title is we grow. We grow what? A garden? We grow up? We grow fond of each other? We grow bitter? We grow together? We grow towards the sun? We grow old?  I'm not really sure maybe D) all of the above. I said I love being barefoot, but now I find any excuse to wear shoes. I like good and plenty candy: now that is still true, but I can't tell you the last time I ate it. Actually I can and it was at home a month ago and then I was mad about it because I had been trying to cut out sugar. I'm going to start letting go of the fear inside of me and this blog will help hopefully help me document it. Speaking of documenting, I love watching documentaries. I rarely watch them now, but can I suggest Wild China? I'm obsessed. and I think life is dang good. I don't know if I think life is dang good. At least the way I used to, but I do think it is good. I know I would be selfish and ungrateful if I didn't say it was good. And the more I think about it I think it's fair to say my life is dang good, but sometimes I even need convincing or reminding of that.
I skipped one.
I'm going to start letting go of the fear inside of me. I go through phases where I don't really even feel. I try to avoid feeling actually. So I need to start feeling again so I can let go of the fear inside of me.

Buddha believed that all forms of life experience suffering. The cause of suffering is attachment. To end suffering all attachments must be severed. You achieve non-attachment by following the 8 fold or middle path. Enlightenment is self discipline, meditation, and careful cutting off of attachments.
I think the key here is careful cutting off of attachments. In an attempt of self-preservation, I cut off any attachment:I cut off feeling. I think this is where the self discipline comes in: C.S. Lewis said that "without the aid of trained emotions the intellect is powerless..."
Wassily Kandinsky, the Russian artist, talks about the intellect and about songs in our souls. He first speaks of the songs:
"It fills us with surprise. We marvel at it. We would continue to hear it. But few are capable of holding themselves in the state listening to their own song. Intellectuality steps in and as the song within us is of the utmost sensitiveness, it retires in the presence of the cold, material intellect…Yet we live in the memory of these songs…They are the pinnacles of our experience and it is the desire to express these intimate sensations, this song from within…"
Living only within the intellect entails suffering as well. So I need to carefully cut off attachment to intellect and attachment to emotion and find the balance between the two.
I will still suffer, but "Passion: that which I suffer, allow, endure, to me is done." I will be alright. When I feel, I will fear, but I can overcome my fears through facing them. Facing my fears will make me suffer to some degree; however, I think that is how I learn to detach myself from them ultimately.

Brighter

A friend once told me that eyes were a window to a person’s soul. I hadn't really believed him because I had never seen that for myself. At a bicycle collective downtown, he had asked me what I thought of the red-bearded man, the one who talked to us about building fixies from old bike frames. I told him I thought he had pretty blue eyes and seemed nice enough.

“I know he’s a good man.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, you saw his eyes didn't you?”

“Yes,” I replied, “they were pretty; they were blue.”

“Then you should've seen he was a good man if you looked at his eyes.”

I only saw the color.

It was another week later when I met my friend at the Baskin-Robbin’s parking lot to carpool. We were going on another excursion to look for bike frames downtown. It was evening and the rain had stopped; the sun was low in the sky beginning to set. The smell of the wet asphalt filled my nostrils as I stepped out of my car and slid into the passenger seat. The light blinded my eyes as it bounced from the water on the hood of his Subaru.

“I love rain, don’t you?”

I watched as the clouds continue to part.

“The rain always makes things brighter.”

It’s now a full year later. The sky is gray, but that doesn't matter because I’m sitting in the basement of the Fine Arts building in a corner classroom. I don’t like the fluorescent lights. I feel like they are slowly killing me. The sun is light; the sun brings life. These lights aren't the sun; they’re false and that’s why I’m dying. It will take awhile for my eyes to adjust when I walk outside. If the sun is out when class ends then I will see differently, too. When I walk back into a building I’ll see the difference in the light quality. I’ll start dying again. I’ll be like the yellow flowers sitting on the table in front of me while I write this. They are wilting and slowly turning brown. No one waters them and my roommates never open the blinds. All they have is fluorescent light, and that is why they are dying. It may be slow, but it will still happen. These lights will slowly kill us.

Class is interesting. We have a guest speaker today and he starts talking about passion. I think every guest speaker that comes to an art class talks about this. He tells me I need to be passionate. Passion will drive you. If you have a passion you will succeed. I start to wonder what it is. I don’t think I've really ever felt it. I don’t think I have ever allowed myself to. I stop listening when he starts going over his Digital Asset Management. His voice trails off as I pull my thoughts in. The lights turn off. That’s good; at least the light isn't killing us. There is a power point up of his photos, they’re beautiful, but I still don’t hear much because I’m starting to worry about what he said.

What is passion? If I have never felt it, then I have never succeeded. If I don’t have passion then I have never been driven to do something worthwhile. So what am I doing here? I start to have a panic attack and I burst out of my seat, taking the steps two at a time until I make it outside to the light that brings life: the sun. It has to be out there; it’s not here in this dark corner room.

The bell rings. I didn't physically burst out of my seat, but now I have some catching up to do because half of me is already outside. I take the steps one at a time. The sky is gray; this time it matters. It looks as if it will start to rain. I love the rain.

I have my favorite purple rain jacket on, the one with the conversion chart on the inside pocket, but I don’t wear the hood. It makes it harder to see with my peripheral vision and sometimes the hood comes over the top of my eyes; I don’t like that. I try to catch up. My mind is still racing. I start passing people and I wonder if I could ever feel passionate about them. A raindrop falls and hits my bottom lip. I stop in my tracks and look up. It is a strange sensation. I realize I haven’t really felt anything for a long time. It takes me by surprise because it hits something so sensitive; it wakes me up. It was cold, it was quick, then it started to trickle down my chin and I wiped it away. I think back to when I read a Rock and a Hard Place. “Passion: That which I suffer, allow, endure, to me is done.” I had been trying for so long not to feel, but that small drop of rain had just foiled my plan. By removing my hood I had allowed that raindrop to fall onto my lip. I had allowed it to remind me what it was like to feel. It had scared me, it was like a cool hard jab that somehow managed to bounce lightly away. It was quick then as it began to slide off my lip I was already changed.

We’re coming back to Baskin-Robbin’s and as I get ready to go back to my car I ask:

“How did you know something was wrong?”

“Your eyes looked like the sky does when it clears after a storm.”

I look up now and my senses have heightened. I am aware of the light. And now I realized that is what I've been missing. I start to understand it. I look at the next person that passes me and it’s almost terrifying because I see the light and I can feel an overwhelming sense of compassion. I can feel. He was right: eyes are a window to a person’s soul. It was this compassion from understanding light that I had been missing. I look at the next person and again I am terrified because I never knew you could see pain like that before. Once again, I can feel. “Passion: that which I suffer, allow, endure, to me is done.” The opposition is part of it. My thoughts jump back to a pink highlighted page “…color produces vibrations in the soul…a path leading color to the soul (Kandinsky).” It makes sense and now I understand what my friend saw. The light helped him see the pain, even feel it, but he allowed it and endured it. I finally catch up. That’s what passion is. I look up.

“I love rain, don’t you?”

I watched again as the clouds started to part.

“The rain always makes things brighter.”

Ainsley's Army

Ainsley is a 5 year old girl with ALL: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Her story is here. My friend is riding on his bicycle in her honor from Vancouver BC to San Francisco. 1200 miles = $1200. Support his campaign. All funds go toward her family. Join Ainsley's Army. 

Together

We were together.
I forget the rest.

Walt Whitman