Starting tomorrow with a week in the big apple I shall embark upon 7 weeks of travel that shall then lead me through the three capitals of England, France and Italy.
I'm sure I will have a plethora of new observations during the next two months but unfortunately will not have a computer available to me during the entirety of my travels. I will do my best to keep writing.
For now you can ponder this hypothesis:
Every person is essentially the same; we all wonder about the same things, feel the same pain and joy, face the same challenges. The individuality of human kind becomes apparent only when we react to these ordinary occurrences in our own unique ways. Personalities do not come from the essence of your being so much as from our coping methods. Once you look past the fact that this man did this and that man did that you'll realize that they both feel the same fear. She may be a "bad person" and he a saint, but I assure you they feel the same love as you (whoever you are).
I don't understand how to rationalize the definition of rights and wrongs believing this...
Monday, November 22, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Christmas Tree Choppers are Respectable Workers Too.
"Marry well sweetheart. Find a nice rich man buying clothes at Harrods and flirt away because that hundred and sixty dollar dress isn't going to buy itself for you".
Yes. You got me! I have good taste and the thirst for expensive things. BUT, just because I adore these classic red "Bordeaux" pumps does not mean I want to wear heels the rest of my life.
"You know mom, it's much more likely that I'll fall in love with a river rat and be just as happy in my red-strapped Chacos instead!"
What a debate this turned into...
Is my life-code really what it is because I'm an 18 year old? Will it really transform itself into that which I'm repellant to now as the years roll by? I can't accept that I have youthful views because I'm of a youthful age and not because I have a youthful spirit. And I'm sorry, but I know that spirits do not age.
Ok, this post is flitting all over the place, let me try to fill in the gaps before I continue on that note.
Apparently who I marry and the wealth of who I marry determines my future happiness. Yeah right! Sure I can daydream all day about falling in love with prince charming, prancing about my huge New York apartment in a satin bathrobe getting ready for the big Gala evening out, but what shoes to wear! The gold Antonio Melanie pumps? or the Louis Vuitton glazed calf leather heels? See how easily I just fantasized all that? Don't get me wrong, that life would be the shit! I just can't believe that such a happiness created from materialism and little green pieces of paper is as pure and strong as the happiness derived from being with the person you love on a hike through beautiful wilderness surroundings where all you can think about is the miracle of nature and how goddamn lucky you are to have found this sweat saturated mountain man that you love so much! This is how I see the spectrum.
Next generation up, you ask my mom and she mentions only the instability of a river rat lifestyle, the horrible economy that will leave him with only a job at the Home Depot Christmas tree lot in the winter once the rafting season is over and then think about how happy you'll be!
I know I'm young, but thats not the root of our differing views. My romanticism is a result of optimism, and that my dear readers is ageless.
Living a hard life can bring depression knocking on your door so I hear, it seems only natural, right? But I was lucky enough to come across a story that has been an inspiration to me and constantly reminds me of the powers of optimism. There lives a woman named Alice. She turns 107 years old this month. Her age is the least extraordinary thing about her, even as the worlds oldest living holocaust survivor. The truly amazing part of her story is how she was able to ward off depression through her experience in a concentration camp and everyday after--including today--with music. Her ability to play the piano was what saved her life during the war and the heart she put into her music it is how she is still living happily today. Pretty amazing, huh? Alice accounts it all to optimism.
That is the kind of story that has a place in my copy of "How to Live your Life to the Fullest for Dummies".
 |
| What about these shoes? |
Yes. You got me! I have good taste and the thirst for expensive things. BUT, just because I adore these classic red "Bordeaux" pumps does not mean I want to wear heels the rest of my life.
"You know mom, it's much more likely that I'll fall in love with a river rat and be just as happy in my red-strapped Chacos instead!"
What a debate this turned into...
Is my life-code really what it is because I'm an 18 year old? Will it really transform itself into that which I'm repellant to now as the years roll by? I can't accept that I have youthful views because I'm of a youthful age and not because I have a youthful spirit. And I'm sorry, but I know that spirits do not age.
Ok, this post is flitting all over the place, let me try to fill in the gaps before I continue on that note.
Apparently who I marry and the wealth of who I marry determines my future happiness. Yeah right! Sure I can daydream all day about falling in love with prince charming, prancing about my huge New York apartment in a satin bathrobe getting ready for the big Gala evening out, but what shoes to wear! The gold Antonio Melanie pumps? or the Louis Vuitton glazed calf leather heels? See how easily I just fantasized all that? Don't get me wrong, that life would be the shit! I just can't believe that such a happiness created from materialism and little green pieces of paper is as pure and strong as the happiness derived from being with the person you love on a hike through beautiful wilderness surroundings where all you can think about is the miracle of nature and how goddamn lucky you are to have found this sweat saturated mountain man that you love so much! This is how I see the spectrum.
Next generation up, you ask my mom and she mentions only the instability of a river rat lifestyle, the horrible economy that will leave him with only a job at the Home Depot Christmas tree lot in the winter once the rafting season is over and then think about how happy you'll be!
I know I'm young, but thats not the root of our differing views. My romanticism is a result of optimism, and that my dear readers is ageless.
Living a hard life can bring depression knocking on your door so I hear, it seems only natural, right? But I was lucky enough to come across a story that has been an inspiration to me and constantly reminds me of the powers of optimism. There lives a woman named Alice. She turns 107 years old this month. Her age is the least extraordinary thing about her, even as the worlds oldest living holocaust survivor. The truly amazing part of her story is how she was able to ward off depression through her experience in a concentration camp and everyday after--including today--with music. Her ability to play the piano was what saved her life during the war and the heart she put into her music it is how she is still living happily today. Pretty amazing, huh? Alice accounts it all to optimism.
That is the kind of story that has a place in my copy of "How to Live your Life to the Fullest for Dummies".
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Today I realized
How beautiful my dog is. I came home from work early, she--being the only one home--welcomed me in and we had one of those moments where we locked eye contact and held it for a while, just looking and telling. She has the most rich and sprite chocolate-colored eyes. It got me thinking how it could be possible that a being like that, a creature with so much presence and personality could not be thinking to herself just as I was thinking to myself? And how was she thinking to herself? Certainly not with barking words she hears in her head like me. It must be a much more true and genuine recognition system comprised of only emotion. Those eyes weren't asking me any questions, they were simply expressing her feelings of happiness and expectation that translated into questions in my thought process. Her communication system is much less frustrating than mine! Lucky girl.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Communication
Why is it such a strain?
Wouldn't it be amazing if we didn't have to pull words out of thin air to explain how we feel? One of my least favorite questions is "What are you thinking?" because I'm only ever able to answer it when I've been extremely bored or when I'm actively trying to figure something out. I don't know. I know I'm not much of a words person (so why am I writing about this on a blog?) and it's just hard for me to know what words to use to explain even the simplest of sensations.
How do I answer the morning ritual of "Hey, how's it goin?" with everyone I meet at work? Despite my aversion to automatic responses, I feel like the only way to respond is with a "Pretty good, how 'bout yourself?".
"Hey Heather, how's it goin? Mornin' Thor, how you doin'? Hi Clay, how are you today? Pretty Good! Not bad! Good..."
Yes, I care. I like knowing that Sharon's back is hurting less than yesterday, and I love the fact that everyone greets everyone, but the actual words we use are so meaningless.
Good.
That one always catches me on an invisible fish hook. I can never accept that response without wondering what they're hiding behind that "Good". She says she's good. And goes on with her day listening to NPR and internally raves about the shitty state of society. Automatic greetings are like plastic. I just wish there was a morning greeting that was more like the simplicity and purity of life at 6 in the morning in your mummybag on the river, watching the sun creep down the cliff walls and waiting to feel it's warmth on your skin. Instead of "good" can I please have a one-word response that encompasses that?
On a less frustrating facet of communication, sometimes a glimmering letter will arrive in your mailbox (the physical one on the sidewalk) and present a little gem of communication. To hold a piece of paper, textured with intentions however simplistic is so rewarding.
When I write a letter to someone, it's for that someone and could not be interchanged with another letter as a "not bad" could be exchanged with a "pretty good". I imagine the recipient opening their PO box to find a bright green envelope with their name in large gold calligraphy letters. I imagine their face, the excitement shooting through their fingertips as they cling to the self-importance given to them in that textured paper's intent.
Wouldn't it be amazing if we didn't have to pull words out of thin air to explain how we feel? One of my least favorite questions is "What are you thinking?" because I'm only ever able to answer it when I've been extremely bored or when I'm actively trying to figure something out. I don't know. I know I'm not much of a words person (so why am I writing about this on a blog?) and it's just hard for me to know what words to use to explain even the simplest of sensations.
How do I answer the morning ritual of "Hey, how's it goin?" with everyone I meet at work? Despite my aversion to automatic responses, I feel like the only way to respond is with a "Pretty good, how 'bout yourself?".
"Hey Heather, how's it goin? Mornin' Thor, how you doin'? Hi Clay, how are you today? Pretty Good! Not bad! Good..."
Yes, I care. I like knowing that Sharon's back is hurting less than yesterday, and I love the fact that everyone greets everyone, but the actual words we use are so meaningless.
Good.
That one always catches me on an invisible fish hook. I can never accept that response without wondering what they're hiding behind that "Good". She says she's good. And goes on with her day listening to NPR and internally raves about the shitty state of society. Automatic greetings are like plastic. I just wish there was a morning greeting that was more like the simplicity and purity of life at 6 in the morning in your mummybag on the river, watching the sun creep down the cliff walls and waiting to feel it's warmth on your skin. Instead of "good" can I please have a one-word response that encompasses that?
On a less frustrating facet of communication, sometimes a glimmering letter will arrive in your mailbox (the physical one on the sidewalk) and present a little gem of communication. To hold a piece of paper, textured with intentions however simplistic is so rewarding.
When I write a letter to someone, it's for that someone and could not be interchanged with another letter as a "not bad" could be exchanged with a "pretty good". I imagine the recipient opening their PO box to find a bright green envelope with their name in large gold calligraphy letters. I imagine their face, the excitement shooting through their fingertips as they cling to the self-importance given to them in that textured paper's intent.
 |
| It's so worth it. |
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Meals
Bring great joy to your loved ones.
With some independent effort to make a nice meal for my parents I was able to bring a lot of happiness and gratitude to the table. It felt really good to do. I know not everyone's families are as food oriented as mine, but for us food is really important and exciting. We sit together and share our meals whenever we can and it's very lovely. The tastiness, effort, and warmth of a meal adds to our joint happiness simply because it's something we share.
With some independent effort to make a nice meal for my parents I was able to bring a lot of happiness and gratitude to the table. It felt really good to do. I know not everyone's families are as food oriented as mine, but for us food is really important and exciting. We sit together and share our meals whenever we can and it's very lovely. The tastiness, effort, and warmth of a meal adds to our joint happiness simply because it's something we share.
 |
| Who knew the wonders of Mixed Vegetable Korma? |
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Days (and the Moon)
Are big ass blessings that we hardly appreciate.
Just thinking about it makes my anxiety skyrocket, it's like I'm so grateful and so overwhelmed at the incredible awesomeness of it that I can't think about it!
Every day is an opening into a new realm of opportunity. We wake up in the morning--refreshed, rejuvenated, relieved--but what morning did I wake up and realize how fucking lucky I am to have another day? Each day is just a promise from the universe--a way of comforting us tiny beings--a promise, reminding us that no matter how we spend our day, the earth will turn and there will always be another one tomorrow. And the day after. Forever. I mean talk about consistency! Always having that one constant makes me feel much safer in this crazy world of ours.
Tangent sparked by this train of thought:
I wear contacts. I look at the moon through them all the time. The only time I watch the moon without my little plastic visual aids is while I'm bundled up in my sleeping bag, drifting asleep on a gently rocking rubber raft. This is a very unique moon. I look up at it through the drawstring of my mummybag and I do not see a concrete circular white object. When left to their own devices my eyes like to play tricks on me so I lay there staring up at a brilliant, blue, multifaceted diamond in the sky (perfectly sober by the way). It's almost as thought the moon has become translucent and blue but my eyes see multiple blue moons and overlap them just enough to make it look 6 times bigger and made of many shining surfaces. It's very beautiful.
Just thinking about it makes my anxiety skyrocket, it's like I'm so grateful and so overwhelmed at the incredible awesomeness of it that I can't think about it!
Every day is an opening into a new realm of opportunity. We wake up in the morning--refreshed, rejuvenated, relieved--but what morning did I wake up and realize how fucking lucky I am to have another day? Each day is just a promise from the universe--a way of comforting us tiny beings--a promise, reminding us that no matter how we spend our day, the earth will turn and there will always be another one tomorrow. And the day after. Forever. I mean talk about consistency! Always having that one constant makes me feel much safer in this crazy world of ours.
Tangent sparked by this train of thought:
I wear contacts. I look at the moon through them all the time. The only time I watch the moon without my little plastic visual aids is while I'm bundled up in my sleeping bag, drifting asleep on a gently rocking rubber raft. This is a very unique moon. I look up at it through the drawstring of my mummybag and I do not see a concrete circular white object. When left to their own devices my eyes like to play tricks on me so I lay there staring up at a brilliant, blue, multifaceted diamond in the sky (perfectly sober by the way). It's almost as thought the moon has become translucent and blue but my eyes see multiple blue moons and overlap them just enough to make it look 6 times bigger and made of many shining surfaces. It's very beautiful.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Moods
 |
| Are always a result of mental choice. |
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Innocence
 |
Isn't lost so much as gently laid to rest. |
*'laid to rest' may be replaced with: lulled to sleep.
(forgive the poor quality of my photobooth image)
(forgive the poor quality of my photobooth image)
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Where to Begin?
How about with Love?
In my ponderings of Love--What is it? Have I ever really felt honest Love? What generates these feelings?--I have come to understand a little more about the human condition.
In my experience, love is not something magical that only occurs between two people who have tied themselves together in a helpless cycle of emotions like in the movies. I actually think I've felt genuine love for beauty more than people. I love my family, I love my friends, my dog, many people and things, but the purest love I've felt has been sparked by a realization of the beauty of life in general. In attempts to wrap my noggin around how perfect the universe is, how perfectly every piece of it fits together, I become overwhelmed by a sense of what I can only describe as Love. Maybe that's just the little artist in me who can't turn off her constant wonder-filled musings of her surroundings. Or maybe I've always taken love of people for granted and this new outlet of love is simply a fresh sensation. If you were to ask me what I loved the most in this world, I think my most honest response would be that I love knowing I'm alive.
Yeah, that seems right. Do you know how I know when I'm in love with someone? I know if he makes me feel alive and being with him makes me appreciate all the beauty around me. Or something like that...
I love the river. I've had many a night when I'm wrapped up in my sleeping bag staring at the changing sky and the constant moon being rocked to sleep by the sound of the current when I feel my heart seep it's loving stuff into every cubic centimeter of my body. The river provides a sort of blissful constancy that I love.
It's just incredible just how much love the heart is capable of.
In my ponderings of Love--What is it? Have I ever really felt honest Love? What generates these feelings?--I have come to understand a little more about the human condition.
In my experience, love is not something magical that only occurs between two people who have tied themselves together in a helpless cycle of emotions like in the movies. I actually think I've felt genuine love for beauty more than people. I love my family, I love my friends, my dog, many people and things, but the purest love I've felt has been sparked by a realization of the beauty of life in general. In attempts to wrap my noggin around how perfect the universe is, how perfectly every piece of it fits together, I become overwhelmed by a sense of what I can only describe as Love. Maybe that's just the little artist in me who can't turn off her constant wonder-filled musings of her surroundings. Or maybe I've always taken love of people for granted and this new outlet of love is simply a fresh sensation. If you were to ask me what I loved the most in this world, I think my most honest response would be that I love knowing I'm alive.
Yeah, that seems right. Do you know how I know when I'm in love with someone? I know if he makes me feel alive and being with him makes me appreciate all the beauty around me. Or something like that...
I love the river. I've had many a night when I'm wrapped up in my sleeping bag staring at the changing sky and the constant moon being rocked to sleep by the sound of the current when I feel my heart seep it's loving stuff into every cubic centimeter of my body. The river provides a sort of blissful constancy that I love.
It's just incredible just how much love the heart is capable of.
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