Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

- The Prayer of St. Francis

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in the casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

- C.S. Lewis

Penikese Island, July 2011

Enneagram Haiku

A one is no fun
Instead, let me be a nine
So I can unwind

"See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness

and streams in the wasteland."

(Isaiah 43:19)

"Open my eyes that I might see"

Psalm 119

If life imitates baking...

First, a whole bunch got burned (it happened so fast!)

then broken

and otherwise mangled

 until finally I got a couple right!

I may not have gotten the first step on video, but I'm definitely putting it to practice. My life isn't falling apart, just my heart. Hope to get to step 2 soon.

3 Things (Jason Mraz):

There are three things I do when my life falls apart
Number one I cry my eyes out and dry up my heart
Not until I do this will my new life start
So that's the first thing that I do when my life falls apart

Oh, the second thing I do is I close both of my eyes
And say my thank you's to each and every moment of my life.
I go where I know the love is and let it fill me up inside
Gathering new strength from sorrow,
I'm glad to be alive.

The third thing that I do now when my world caves in,
is I pause, I take a breath, and bow and let that chapter end.
I design my future bright not by where my life has been.
And I try, try, try, try, try again.
Yes I try, try, try, try, try again.

My friend Jess sent me this advice over 7 years ago when I was dealing with a bad break-up. Now I suddenly need it all over again (in spite of my lack of dating). Does this ever get easier?!? I've gotta work on this:

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." 

(Proverbs 4:23)

Here are her words, for easy referencing, though I'm hoping nobody needs this again. I can take some dings and scratches but please no more broken hearts!

1. exercise - i went to yoga every saturday, joined a gym, and walked EVERYWHERE, even when i could have taken public transportation. they say that endorphins are good for depression in general, and it really, really helped me.

2. go out - never turn down a social invitation, even if you don't know anyone. go to places you've never been before and strike up conversations with strangers. and if they strike one up with you, don't turn them down (unless they're creepy or something). also, join clubs or activities.

3. make lists - of things you want to try, and have never had the chance to, things you want to accomplish (it can be as simple as "get through 3 hours without thinking of x"), things you love, people who love you, places you want to visit, favorite moments in your life that don't concern x, things you love to do.

4. do something artistic everyday (or as often as possible). for me, this was taking a theater class. you could also take an art class. or just start collaging. or draw. or paint. or write. or just visit the art museum.

5. write - keep a journal and write everything down, even the longing and wanting and weakness and sadness and anger. write everything you wish you could say but can't or won't. write it down. get it out and verbalize it.

6. do things for yourself - get a massage, get a manicure or pedicure, get a facial.

7. go shopping - when all else fails, it's nice to have something new. about 2/3 of my wardrobe comes from the period right after my breakup with x. worth it.

8. see movies - there's nothing wrong with escapism. join netflix and watch movies, or go see movies by yourself. see something that YOU want to see.

9. throw a party - it can be a dinner party for 2 friends or in my case it was a brunch party for 30. you could do a picnic or tea party or hike with friends. organize something.

10. remember: you are not a victim. that is not who you are. this is a relationship experience that is HARD and HURTS but it is a growing experience that will help you be a better partner in the future. you're making your way toward a better person for you, one relationship at a time. and that better person will benefit from the new you.

finally, love the new you. you can do it. there is a better someone out there who will love you for you, faults and all (we all have them). now, you just have to get ready and be okay with yourself.

And...give thanks for good friends :)

My students taught me a nifty saying they learned from their elementary school teacher: "you get what you get and you don't get upset." This works well in school and is generally helpful, I think, except when it comes to dating. I'm thinking it's time to try getting what I want.

It's been nearly 12 months of intentionally abstaining from dating, which doesn't sound like very long, but sure feels like it at my age when there's constant messaging about time running out. I've enjoyed rebelling against that pressure and taking time to pause and collect myself. This  reunion is one that's been well worth attending.

I didn't think I'd make it to the recommended one year off but suddenly I'm almost there. This whole thing started as a short-term assignment that I happily extended through the school year, and now I don't want to emerge from my cloister until I figure out a few things. A friend suggested I make a list of what I'm looking for - not the typical stuff, like I want a dashing prince charming to sweep me off my feet - but the traits or values I'm really seeking in a partner. Plus a list of things that would be "nice to have." So, aiming high...

1. Positive
Realistically optimistic. No mockers or toppers (waiting their chance to one up your story). Willing to see the best and doesn't assume the worst.

2. Patient
With me and my slow flow, with change, with others. No honkers. I'm looking for quality time, second to words of affirmation (see below). Some things just can't be rushed.

3. Communicative
Passionately so. Great with words. Shares my need to talk things through, and then some. Writes. Listens. Reads between the lines. Asks good questions.

4. Growth-mindset / Learner
Curious. Open. Interested. Someone who sees life as a learning process. Whose mind is continually refining itself. Who can (gently) nudge me to do better.

"The only real elegance is in the mind; if you've got that, the rest really comes from it." - Diana Vreeland

5. Healthy
No need to be a gluten-free vegan cross-fit marathoner who doesn't drink, but I do need someone active who makes good choices all around. I'll get grossed out if he eats-drinks-does yucky stuff.

"Natural" is a close contender, sort of like a clean hippie. Or maybe a cosmic Christian cowboy, wrangling ideas on the great frontier:

"I feel quite foolish sometimes when I pray / But my thoughts are all I got so I try to make 'em brave" - Jason Mraz

6. Spiritual and  religious (Christian)
I put this in the middle of the list because it really is central to me. Coming to faith, so to speak, has been so life-saving for me that it's got to be at the heart of my relationship. The idea is to share a faith -not fear- based life. (and a life-based faith)

7. Financially afloat
I don't need Richy Rich but I do not want to get tangled up in someone else's debt (been there). Also, we're going to have to see eye to eye on money management, which I think comes more easily with folks from similar financial backgrounds and/or share the same future goals.

8. Honest-Trustworthy-High Integrity
This should be in the non-negotiable category, but I think it's easily taken for granted when it actually requires special attention to notice those gray zones that are really red flags. Honesty is a habit - part of the permanent collection, not a special exhibit. Give me a man of his word.

9. Smart
It's nice to look up to someone in this area but ideally we would see each other as intellectual equals, though maybe in different areas, so we can each take our turn to shine. The catch is we need common interests to drive conversation and spark intellectual intimacy.

10. Relational
We're all relational, so family or outwardly focused may be what I'm after here. Someone generally more concerned with others than with himself. Who genuinely likes people, values relationships, and naturally reaches out to others, even strangers. Who would drop everything if his loved ones needed something (chosen family is acceptable substitute for family of origin).

11. Adoring
Accepting - of most folks, but especially me - just the way I am, without endeavoring to change me. Values what I have to say. Responds when I call-text-email. Attentive. Caring. Concerned for my well-being. Notices.

12. Disciplined
Serious work ethic. Or I will fling hot spinach in his face.

Humble, Gritty, Thoughtful, Kind (consistently, and a little more than necessary), the list goes on...

Non-negotiable:
-Non-smoker
-No long nails (barf)
-Attraction. You know, sparks. I used to put this in the category below, but I need to prioritize someone I can kiss out of desire, not consolation.

Would be nice to have:
-Animal lover
-Creative
-Outdoorsy
-Handyman
-Bonus for beards (and no shaved chests, blech! see "natural" above)
-Fun...I need to have more
-Reader
-Dreamer
-Protective
-Generous
-Dances with me
-Taller than me
-Tattoo-free
-Likes classical music
-Good with kids
-Encouraging
-Sense of humor
-Willing to give me foot rubs
-Better than me with technology (not hard)
-No coffee...it's a waste of good breath.
More details available upon request :)

How about this: I want what I  want and you don't get upset!

Everyday, I brush my hair with the comb from your wedding, pink with your name in green: Alissa. I look at the shells on my dresser from times we spent together. Admire the little flowered box from South Africa that still contains the butterfly necklace you gave me. Did I ever say thank you?

I'd like to knock gently on your door and turn on a soft light. Is anybody home? I know you left long ago, but would you like to talk? We could walk along that passageway together. Just around the bend it starts to open up a little. Not too bright just yet, and not too fast, although I know you're quick.

Yesterday was the day, so the papers say, or was it the day before?

Years before then, over Columbus Day weekend, just a few days from now, looping through time and space... I remember seeing countless monarch butterflies making a stopover in a special place that you know well, an altogether magical event. You might have seen it, too. They were traveling en masse in transit from North to South during their great fall migration.

Delicate creature, little and strong, floating like the autumn leaves, bright, beautiful, laced with dark edges. You disappeared in your solo flight, a crash landing with no return. Now let's open this box and let you go. After all, you're already gone.

I invite someone to challenge my thinking here with an unexpected outcome of my nearly one year off. I thought I'd be "ready" after all this time, but it turns out that I have little (to no) interest in having a boyfriend, and barely see any use in having a one, except as someone:

- to put my feet under when they're cold
- to update my computer
- to check the house when I get spooked.

At this point, these are the few attractive features I can see a boyfriend contributing to my life, which could easily and respectively be fulfilled by a dog-geek-robot. Of course, "usefulness" is not the way to evaluate people, but that's a topic for another post. In the meantime, I hope someone will prove me wrong!

The perfect ending to back to school night!

Darci Kistler, on Balanchine and giving:

"He loved it when you could go beyond yourself and work to the point of losing yourself... I think he realized that real giving has nothing to do with yourself. So you were useful to him if you could lose yourself, also.

You would give more, and you do more, when you're not thinking of yourself. You're not inhibited, you're not protecting anything. You're not really asking for anything either."

Buying art is a frivolous thing to do, only for the rich, something we can't afford. This mindset has been a total "given" that I'm realizing is really a "taken", sadly devoid of pleasure, especially when contrasted to the happy walls and homes of some not rich folks I've been fortunate to visit.

The truth is clear if I compare the pleasure I would get from looking at this painting versus just about anything money could buy. I was thinking about Vermont and my wanting to plant a garden (farm, really) there. My wish to invite folks over and be something like a retreat hostess. About "clarity of heart, like an objet d'art", and this phrase came to me:

Invest in your happy place.
{reminiscent of "where your money is, there your heart will be also" (Luke 12:34)}

It sounds a little trite until I "pair" it like a fine wine with my new favorite artist, Rory Jackson, the glorious product of an artist family. I almost can't stand to look at his work I love it so much. His painting "Walking in Clarity" totally mesmerized me this summer (and still does). I was lucky enough to see it in person just before it sold, leaving me an admiring voyeur trying to give credit where credit is due:

Rory Jackson, Walking in Clarity, 2014

Edgewater Gallery

This weekend, I was imagining what clearing all this external stuff would look like internally. I searched the internet for what I see in my mind's eye but apparently it's just not out there yet (note to self: learn glassblowing). So I can only describe in words the beautiful, quality, non-cheesy glass heart that should be made in by Simon Pearce in Vermont but might just have to be made by me.

It's spaciously, curvaceously, purely clear and smooth. Solid, transparent, colorless, slightly irregular. Full and empty, a crystalline sanctuary, calmly holding nothing and everything. Suspended in air, full of light, made of earth and fire and human breath. These words came to me about the benefits of clearing:

Clarity of heart
Like an objet d'art

Then I discovered this synchronistic message, the word of the day:

Beloved

In your prayers, ask God to grant you a precious glimpse of how he sees you – of the wonderful picture that he sees when he looks at you. Give thanks that you are indeed God’s work of art. -Br. Geoffrey Tristram

The sweater man, to me, is one of J's most memorable people. This man ladens himself with sweaters, the heavy wool kind, wearing upwards of 30 at a time. He spends his life regulating his temperature which is in odd fluctuation due to his sweater habit. Wearing all those extra layers makes him sweat, so he'll take some sweaters off, then the sweats cools and he feels cold again so he puts more on. The effort of putting on so many sweaters makes him hot again, thus the cycle continues. Further complicating matters is that under all these sweaters is the inner most layer, the one that needs to be washed. So every day he goes through a production of removing all the layers in order to wash the inner layer, repeatedly reordering the sweaters to rotate the clean garments, while trying to keep up with his tiresome temperature management.

I used to wonder about the internal drive to behave this way but today I'm struck by the layers themselves. We all have them, but I'll speak for myself, since I know that I've got many layers of additional weight that I've been somewhat arbitrarily wearing. And it's wearing me out.

Sometimes people ask me what I'm doing with my summer, an innocent enough question that shoots straight to my workaholic guilt like an accusation that I'm not doing enough. I think: you're right, I should have published a book or solved world peace or secured a new job or at least gone on a date by now. But the truth of what I'm doing is that...I'm  un-doing. I've spent so many years accumulating all these heavy and exhausting layers that I am now working on taking them off. And the guy is right. It's a lot of work.

There are the perceptions and the misperceptions. The disappointment, the guilt, the regret. The fear - sometime mine and often others' - and its power to dismantle my dreams. The craving for approval, the need to please, the expectations. The career choice, the graduate school(s), the bad decision(s), the exhaustion. The real stuff (like student loan debt), the imaginary (like needing to stay in this job-apartment-life I've made). All cycling through this dirty wash but never coming clean.

What strikes me is how the original issue gets buried under so many layers that the layers themselves become a problem. Never mind what started it, now there's a whole new world of regulating the layers and their conflicts with each other. They take on a life of their own - relating, reproducing - until suddenly sweater management becomes a full-time occupation like a stay at home mom. Lost under cover, masquerading about like the Michelin man, dying for the mummy to be unwrapped, meanwhile...

Buried somewhere under this fabricated mess is the original skin.

"They were both naked...and were not ashamed" (Genesis 2:25)

Ask me again. I dare you. What have I been doing this summer?

"It's impossible to explain certain things that are not related to regular life. What we are trying to do...we're all like that, we try to explain certain things that (are) unexplainable.

Everything that's around here, it's made out of the same material. But there is another thing, it's very important, but it's not made of the material; you see it's made of something, but it doesn't belong to this world. You see, the real world is not here."

- George Balanchine

Practice stories can become real stories, at least in my case of pretending to move. Now I am moving. Wait, I'm not moving, at least not yet. Actually, I have no idea. What I do know is my father said to be careful not to become so burdened with physical possessions that you can't do what you want, and he knows what he's talking about. During this purging process, I came across an article in Real Simple magazine about getting rid of 50 things that promised I would feel lighter and happier. So, not counting the 25 what-nots I previously gave to my students, here's to making space:

7 bags of stuff donated to Vietnam Veterans who nicely pick it up for you
2 pots returned to ex
2 books returned (and read!)
8 dresses distributed to happy new owners
3 pairs of shoes that actually made someone jump for joy!
3 tiny tables
2 broken containers
4 cute glass milk bottles I'd carted around since 2002
1 vase
1 massive fan
2 furniture items (1 cot + 1 chair left behind by former roommate)
1 pile of paper associated with a terribly "nagging task"
1 box of sidewalk chalk I'd been meaning to give my cousin's kids (apparently called my first cousins once removed)
1 bag of rosacea supplies for my dear fellow sufferer
5 shelves and the associated project
2 gifts (1 book + 1 item I shouldn't wear for several more decades)
5 expired products

Marigold. He mistook my name. The flower guy at the farmer's market flattered me. I surprised him, I think, with my ease. I actually felt like a breath of fresh air, and before I breezed on, he handed me a wild red zinnia that I shyly adored.

Origin of flirt

earlier flert, flurt ; from uncertain or unknown; perhaps Old French fleureter, to touch lightly, literally, move from flower to flower; from fleur, flower

The next day I landed in the sweetest house, one I was fantasizing buying. Its entry way was filled with these little buds all laid out on a screen like I'd never seen before. Dried marigold (calendula) is favored in natural health remedies and now by me. I wish I understood these things. Sometimes I wonder if God is just checking our attention. Actually, I think they're signs that he's  paying attention.

It has something to do with noticing. And being noticed. It all seemed so abundant when I went towards this place I already love, someplace I long to go. Like God's saying I'm here. Come here and you'll find me. I'll find you. We'll know each other in this magical land of marigold.

Up in those mountains, surrounded by fields like the Sound of Music, I felt on top of the world: light, peaceful, easy, at home. Somebody actually said to me "you look happy." I recall being told that I look tired, sad, upset...but I can't remember the last time someone looked at my face and said what was true, I was  happy. When I returned home, someone said "you seem at peace." Just beforehand, I remember hearing her negativity and feeling slightly puzzled and detached, relieved it wasn't my modus operandi.

I went to the store where they were sampling this local craft beer made with...marigold. I went to church and saw Lexi wearing a bright green tank and golden yellow cardigan like a human...marigold. 

Synchronicity. Something is right after all. Yes, my name is Marigold.

10 tips for reducing stress that I'm just re-posting from its original source so that I can throw away this article that I've been transporting in my summer reading bag since 2012. #11 should be stop carrying around stuff from the past!

1. Identify stressors (make a top 10 list, then strategies to shorten the list)
2. Eliminate unnecessary commitments (think carefully about each one and its stress/value or give/take ratio)
3. Stop procrastinating
4. Get organized (from physical space to finding shorter routes from A to B)
5. Arrive on time
6. Understand what you can't control
7. Stop multitasking
8. Make room for relaxation
9. Help others
10. Exercise

 Anything you'd like to add?

If every Monday could start this way.... Waking up naturally from the sound of a rainstorm, followed shortly by the surprise of sunlight streaming through the windows, then the wonder if there might be a rainbow somewhere out there. Instead of... someone's car alarm waking me in the middle of the night, followed by my actual alarm waking me in what feels like  the middle of the night, then the onset of dread about the day ahead.

Plus the accomplishment of a seriously "nagging task", to use Gretchen Rubin's term from the Happiness Project. It's a big day in the claims department! My focus this year on reclaiming all that I want (back) just paid off. Usually, intangible things (like time) are packed into that bag I want to reclaim, but this one contained a check!

It's a reminder that some wrongs do get righted. That I can be assertive. That I can get what I want. Even if it takes 12 months of calling, writing, and persisting. (what if that also applied to my now nearly year-long, newly named Chastity Project?) Fresh from Hannibal, MO, the Damage Recovery Unit has ensured that this monster will no longer eat away at me. Now I can reclaim and recover those units of space and time and money where this damage was so rudely strewn about my desk and mind and bank account for the past year!

Catching up on smoothies recipes now that it's been 2 years of starting every day this way! Although I still don't eat or drink before starting work, now I at least consume something (healthy!) before lunch, and that's progress.

Here's a basic daily recipe that I vary with kale (chard, spinach, etc.) and/or cucumber, depending on what's around. Enjoy!

Romaine lettuce

Celery

Apple

Banana

Ginger

Flax

Blended in that order with water.

For a treat...

Banana

Tahini paste

Cacao

Cinnamon

Ginger (yes, I add it to everything)

Flax

Blended in that order with water and a splash of almond milk

My own personal inventory on what I've tried during this food journey. It all started with an elimination diet that I undertook in search of a calm tummy and clear skin. After two years of buying and trying new foods and products, here's my round-up:

Like, still use, would buy again:
Almond milk (unsweetened) - prefer over coconut, soy, or rice
Almond butter - use in smoothies and for a treat on dates...the food kind ;)
Amaranth - hot breakfast grain I like with almonds + fruit like mango
Cream of Buckwheat - another hot breakfast I like with brown sugar or maple syrup + raisins or cranberries
Chia seeds - makes a nice little pudding with almond milk (that I rarely make)
Coconut butter - yummy in smoothies
Coconut oil - seems to work well for cooking
Fish oil - capsules I forget to take but seem consistently recommended
Flax - ground or liquid in smoothies
Hemp seeds - rarely use but could throw in salads, smoothies, cereal
Sorbet - I have to remind myself that ice cream isn't the only answer...
Apple cider vinegar - I used to take a teaspoon every morning which I can't stand anymore ;) but it's still great for other purposes.

Unsure:
Bee pollen - easy enough to put in smoothies but remind me what's so special about it? ...Virility?
Tahini paste - sometimes I put it in smoothies (with cacao + banana) but otherwise not sure what to do with it
Millet - haven't found an easy recipe yet that I love
Mung beans - same as above
Bragg's Liquid Aminos - basically...I like soy sauce!
Goat milk Kefir - tastes good but trying to avoid dairy (cheese being an exception...)
Kelp noodles - terrible taste that I tried to rinse off. Maybe I just had a bad batch?
Macro Greens superfood - I like adding it to smoothies or apple juice, or but it's expensive and must be pretty engineered, plus in Food Rules, Michael Pollan says to eat like  someone who takes supplements but to then save your money and not bother buying them.
Gluten-free products - I would if I had to, but since I don't have Celiac, I'd rather eat the real thing, just less frequently than before.
Note to self: remember rice, lentil, & quinoa!

No need, I wouldn't buy again:
Wheat grass powder - is this what gave me heart burn that I panicked was breast pain (cancer), thereby bringing on my first ever mammogram...?!?
Natural Calm - never got into it
Pili nut butter - it seemed so yummy at first when I was just plain hungry from my elimination diet, but now I feel no desire for it
Stevia (liquid) - yucky aftertaste
Goji berries - don't love them, not even sure how to use them up except to put in hot cereal
Kombucha - blech!

Specific products I've found that I love:
Hilary's veggie burgers (all flavors)
Kit's Organic bars (all flavors)

What about you? If you're unsure what this is all about, go see this movie!

Ten years ago in May of 2004, I carefully set aside my library card and a few trinkets for the new girl.  She was taking over my room at my host family's home, a room that had been my luxury suite for nine months. I felt a combination of kinship for my fellow country-woman and jealousy that she got to live in "my" room with a view. We exchanged a few nice emails on sundry topics and I noted her name and initials - the same as mine!

Two years later in 2006, I was in graduate school (my happy place), looking at a list of students registered for a field trip. My eyes scanned the page for my name and did a double take...it's her! We met and spent the day walking around Montreal together. I admired everything: her tan, blond natural beauty; her friendly, easy way and Southern charm; her positive, fresh outlook; her double layered tank top + ruffled brown skirt. We spent two summers together and then lost touch but I never forgot her kindness in 2007 when that same place became my unhappy place.

Early this year 2014, I got a big idea and the sense that I should reach out to her. It turns out, for the past 12 years, she's been attending the same church I "go" to from all the way up here in New England. Somehow, two girls, same age-ish, same initials, from totally different starting points - North, South - wound up nearly connecting abroad, actually connecting in graduate school, then reconnecting in ways still unknown. We slept in the same bed, ate off the same plates, rode the same bus, walked the same paths. Like sisters in a rotating line-up, I went before her, at first, but now I'm sure that she goes before me.

 

My Maine Man

  

- ready to jump in after me
- up for a wild goose chase
- not afraid to get his hands dirty
- sticks by my side (but not sticky close)
- willing to look foolish...what you can't see are the pine needles stuck to his nose :)

Green beans. I never really liked them until this dish came along, thanks to my Turkish former roommate. I associate it with summer, since that's when her mom visited forever and we awkwardly cohabited.

 

1 lb Green beans
4-5 Tomatoes
1-2 Onion
2-3 Garlic cloves
1/3 cup Olive oil
Juice of 1 orange or 1 tsp sugar
Lemon
Salt

Wash beans, remove ends and string. Peel tomatoes. Place beans and tomatoes in deep pot. Add onions (she chopped, I sliced...take your pick), pressed garlic cloves, juice of 1 orange, 1/3 cup of olive oil, and salt. Cover and cook over medium heat. Bring to boil, reduce temperature, and cook until marshmallow soft. Arrange in serving dish and squeeze lemon juice over mixture.

Note: I usually make half this quantity. Never tried adding sugar or orange juice but I left it here to keep the recipe authentic. Also I don't peel the tomatoes (lazy), I just let the skin slide off during cooking and scoop out later. Can be served hot or room temperature.

The Art of Dance. The name of my new class! A tiny shift on paper but a massive shift in my world. One that came about so impossibly that it can only be thanks to God's intervention. For all my strategizing, striving, strain and stress, constantly maneuvering (dodging, receiving) the aggression, intensity, and volatile temperaments in my workplace, this transaction was inconceivably smooth. For once, with minimal effort on my part, everything just fell into place, in spite of the personalities, admonishments, and seeming difficulty of it all. Where the opposite is a daily practice, God really made mountains into molehills. Suddenly, in a place of such heaviness...my burden is light! (Matthew 11:30)

During the March Forth madness happiness, all kinds of things surfaced, including the journals (diaries) I kept throughout college. Check out the name of this purple one from nearly twenty years ago (eighteen, to be exact), long enough for me to forget most of what's recorded inside. Turns out some things haven't been forgotten, after all.

Before falling asleep last night, I was thinking about my difficulty "hearing" from God. Then I had a gorgeous  dream. It was a rehearsal for a dance show in which each piece represented a sculpture (Rodin, most likely) showing how the figures got into the positions captured in the sculpture. One dance had a leaping man. Another dance had a couple in the foreground, upright and closely intertwined. The last dance featured multiple figures crossing upstage, simple black silhouettes against a vivid orange ombre backdrop.

How's that for the Art of Dance?!? And a new chapter in that book :)

Reunion. Can it really be called a reunion if nothing held together in the first place?

My actual college experience was disjointed and largely lonely, definitely not a picture of connection that left me forever nostalgic. I remember sobbing in the chapel because I didn't want to be there and felt so alone. It's both hard and easy to understand. Logically, it would be hard to find good friends if I frequently went home on the weekends. I didn't thrive in the party scene, couldn't find my academic home, and breezed through the dining hall because I felt self-conscious scanning the crowd for a seat with all those cliques staring back at me (so it seemed). I briefly had a friend from chemistry class (until he liked me and I didn't like him back like that) and we used to object to the black pants girls. Then I became one of them, in a lame if you can't fight 'em, join 'em move. I had never even worn black until then! At the same time, it's (still) hard for me to understand how it could be so hard to find kindred spirits. I guess their rarity is what makes them so special.

I remember my student telling me a story about getting stung by a dangerous, tropical jellyfish and her father and brother basically saved her life by peeing on her. Apparently the urine sterilized the wound and allowed her to live.

So, I propose P-ing on reunion. To make Preunion. This word better captures my reality. There can't be a reunion where there was no union. But a preunion suggests a forthcoming union. And that sounds more like it, to me. Plus, a little irreverence would do me good.

Attending my preunion was exciting and promising. No pressure, only possibilities. I was there to do some excavation work. To uncover some ruins. To search the archives. To visit the new sprout garden and plant some seeds. To await their fruition.

Attending my reunion was intimidating and disappointing. I still felt incidental. I still got lost when the private school crowd got going about their yachts and summer homes. (never mind the babies and spouses.) I still felt self-conscious about my lack of fashion sense. I still fell prey to guys looking for a good outside with little notice of the inside.

I think of reunion and my heart gets stuck. I trip over ex-boyfriends and lost friends, and like a one-two punch, I fall right down my well-worn why-didn't-I-at-least-apply-to-transfer trap.

I think of preunion and my heart relaxes. There's nothing to see here. Just wait for what comes. Enjoy the trailers. After all, this is just for your entertainment.

It was a preliminary step. I didn't walk away with everything packaged into a pretty party favor tied with a bow (actually, they gave us a kite). But I did begin to wrap and unwrap my heart around the whole college experience. It's not a perfectly integrated free flowing river of love and acceptance. But I'm taking it back, reclaiming it, as a part of me.

I went there. I lived there. I loved there. I cried there.

It felt surprisingly homey to be back, places that were so familiar that it almost felt like I never left. That nook with a beige phone in the chapel basement; the ascent up to the dance studio; that lone room #100 off the foyer that, for the 3rd time, won't leave me alone. It can't be a coincidence that I slept in the very dorm I lived in and most loved with my palatial zen room overlooking the most beautiful part of campus.

I stayed there. I tried there. I slept there. I left there.

One of my old journals surfaced during March Forth and it turns out I'd forgotten a few things. Somebody noticed me. Somebody wonderful who cared and made me really happy. Somebody missed me...a lot. And then I...forgot. I messed up. I missed out. I moved on.

I got stung and apparently I stung, too. Suddenly that  hurts from a fresh lash of regret. What can be done now but try in some weird way to cleanse the wound and salvage some life?

During preunion, I got an unforgettable compliment, one of those "priceless" moments that makes it easier to say... I'm no longer looking for my college to make me. To give me a place to call home or a sense of belonging. To supply me with friends or my identity. It's a part of me, not me, and not even a very big part of me.

I guess the thing about college is when  it happens and how. It's a developmental stage, a transition from childhood to adulthood, of sheltered independence that sends forth some of those first steps. It's an intense time of living in community, amplified by physical proximity, the late night lifestyle, and generous amounts of alcohol.

I'm left with all these memory threads that I'm trying to untangle - the short ones, long ones, knotted ones and double knotted ones - so that kite can actually fly, or at least get a lift-off. Maybe someday I'll grasp these loose threads and attach them to that kite and...let it all fly away.

Redemption is reclaiming a memory. It is remembering what clearly was not good, not right, and yet acknowledging, where we can, that what was our breaking may actually have become our making.

Between March Forth and reunion, I have a rather large vault of memories displayed in front of me.

Where you find yourself now has most likely come out of the best of times and worst of times in your own life.  It is a huge grace to reclaim memories which may have been locked up in old closets of your memory, to salvage what otherwise might be lost on us.  The gift of redemption draws from the treasury of our own memories... (The Gift of Memory by Br. Curtis Almquist)

I can be sure that nobody ever has, or ever will, like me for my money, but looking at this treasury, I feel quite rich.

Simple bean salad

Dried white beans, soaked overnight then simmered
Red and yellow peppers
Celery
Red onion

Tossed with olive oil, lemon juice, salt & pepper, plus some basil (just because I had some, but I bet cilantro would be good, too). Enjoy!

Most people go gaga over babies. Not me. I think there's nothing cuter than a teenage boy struggling to find words to present this, a collective class gift....

I've received many things from students: cards, food, gift certificates, a Christmas ornament, candle holders (that was a surprising one), little love-notes, along with un-love notes published publicly online :(

Working with the public, I put myself out there for approval or criticism, a challenging aspect of an already challenging job. I guess it's not realistic for everyone to like everyone, and public figures are subject to public opinion. I'm reminded of that every time I think of a future employer looking me up and landing on that yucky review from someone I evidently eerked.

But this is what I need to keep closer to my heart. A symbol of someone's appreciation. Something I can hold onto when I get down about the countless thankless jobs within a teacher's job...practicing to protect the children in the event of something crazy, going for basically years without water because then I might have to go to the bathroom, and who has time for that?!

I touch it and remember the smile of the sweetest student I could ask for, of her parents' and grandparents' sacrifices and heartfelt appreciation, of the tears that inevitably come to my eyes when I talk to them. I look at it and see my initials and remember that this is for me. Not for the late night emails, the vacations spent working, the sleepless nights spent grading and regrading, desperately trying to get it all done on time. Not for the work, but for the love.

My most personal student gift, next to that ornament ;) and like Louise said, my way to wear the gospel.

My best transformative craft project yet, inspired by a gift I received from this amazing place (actually, basically copying their product). This was my real gift to my graduating students. Books deemed too outdated by the school library, that were in a reject pile destined for the trash, that I eagerly salvaged with a special eye for library cards and interesting covers (surprisingly hard to find!). Books that are now interlaced with blank pages ready to receive new thoughts, a souvenir of their school and its past, reflecting the generations that came before. Books that are now back in circulation. My students were so touched. I feel frankly rather triumphant to have completed one of my project fantasies, to have a real product received by real people, transforming real trash into a real treasure, at least in my eyes.

First step: cut off spine (requiring scary guillotine machine and a burly ally)

Next step: carefully measure and align paper (requiring child labor), remove some old pages and intersperse with new paper, then drill holes and thread coil (thanks again to aforementioned ally)

Last step: admire and distribute!

False generosity. I have to be honest with myself about my real motivation in giving 25 gifts, one to each senior. Unlike real, pure generosity, this was laced with self-serving interests. Not for my students to like me or to think of me as generous, but to give myself the gift of cleaning. It gave me so much pleasure to get rid of stuff. Of course I deliberately chose a gift for each student that connected to something personal I've noticed about them. A comic book, movie, map, etc. Some of the items were special to me, like my own books from college. But what is more precious to me is breathing room, creating space for a new flow, and passing forward something on the chance that it might mean something to someone else. They say people who are planning suicide start to give away their possessions. Well, I've been contemplating killing this career, and derive some satisfaction in dispersing my belongings. Ironically, the more space I create - to move, to breathe - the easier it feels to stick it out!