I'm ready

“Every dreamer knows that it is entirely possible to be homesick for a place you've never been to, perhaps more homesick than for familiar ground.”
― Judith Thurman

“But that's the glory of foreign travel, as far as I am concerned. I don't want to know what people are talking about. I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again. You can't read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can't even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.” 
― Bill Bryson

Now all I need to figure out is how and where.

florida (teachers of foreign languages conference + eric+me)

We got a year's worth of dating in yesterday: an easy stroll along palm tree lined sidewalks, fancy dinner at Bahama Island (tikki torches aflame!) with live reggae music, 18 holes of pirate-themed mini golf, and a late night movie. I felt like I was living someone else's life. Not only having no child in tow, but all things we did are things we don't really do. The real versions of us anyways. But there we were yesterday doing them. In flip flops.

The day before that wasn't any more believable. We're not really into Disney. Or into spending insane amounts of money on entertainment or transportation. So we spent the morning debating our options, concluding that the only thing really to do was go for a run to the nearest water park. Because it was a slightly cooler day for Floridians (80 degrees and overcast) we were one of the only ones there. Sprinting up flights and flights of stairs, then shooting down slides on bellies, tubes, and various forms of water crafts, giggling and screaming in turns. When I say slides, please picture roller coasters in water slide form. There were ones with speakers and strobe lights, ones with sudden drop offs I completely lost my breath on, ones so high it took us a good five minutes of hiking to reach. I realized this must be what playground slides feel like to Anna.

It was fantastic to have absolutely no lines, but a little bizarre being the only ones at at place obviously built to handle about 1000 times more people. We got to know all the life guards. And wave at the Japanese business men on a tour of american theme parks.

That evening it was an elegant dinner with  foreign language program directors from around the country. I was not planning on it being that entertaining, but it in fact was just that. In my experience, those with interest in or a capability to speak another language generally have a fascinating life story and perspective, and if not that, delightful travel stories they're usually more than willing to share.

And then we were asking our driver about the Haitian education system and hearing his ideas on corruption in his country and climate change on our way to the Orlando airport.

I must admit I never tire of staring out the window as I leave ground and climb through clouds without any effort whatsoever on my part. I still think air travel is a miracle. 

“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.”
―Robert Louis Stevenson

my sister's great

 I miss her. Wish we could fly down to spend another week like this right about now.

                           

new york

For our birthdays this year, Laura took her four girls to New York. We were there a month ago today, and I have not posted a thing about it, since I have yet to locate the cord I need to upload my pictures. Yes, there once was a world where cameras took most the photos and all sorts of processes beyond clicking send were required to share them with anyone. Still haven't found it, but here's a few from someone else's phone.  See? Proof we really were there.

Standing in one corner of one of my favorite places we went there: Eataly. A mini Italy, complete with intricately tiled floors, a vegetable section that made me want to do ballet, aisles and aisles of ineffable chocolates, and three restaurants using only the food they themselves sell at the rest of the store. Funny this is where I got a picture, as someone who doesn't really eat meat or cheese.

The shake shack. Okay, so we ate there three times while in new york. They do mushroom burgers right. And fries. And shakes. And christmas lights. Open til 11:00, and no later.

NYC was incredible from the moment I stepped off the plane and found myself surrounded by languages, bone structures, smells, and fashion statements completely and delightfully foreign. It is sort of a thrill to be so small and insignificant. And oh the food! I don't think I could take the concrete much more than a month, but I very much enjoyed my trip. And then absolutely loved my run on dirt through clean air and yellow leaves upon my return. Still feel very much more at home in mountains and grass.

beautiful

“There are no bad pictures; that's just how your face looks sometimes.” 
- Abraham Lincoln

I tuned the corner from our bedroom into the hallway last night, right in front of the open bathroom door where Eric was standing, telling me something I hadn't been able to hear clearly coming from a mouth full of foamy toothpaste. And then he just stopped, mid sentence. Long pause.  What were you saying??  "I..... I'm sorry, this is going to sound really dumb, but I was talking and then I looked up at you and you looked so pretty I completely forgot what I was talking about."  Very funny Eric. But really. "No, really." 

Beauty it is a word swarmed around by countless issues in my head. The first time Eric enthusiastically declared "You are the most beautiful woman in the world" I looked straight back at him and said "No. I am NOT!  That is simply not true. Take it back." He had no idea. Rather than being flattered, I felt indignant, almost hurt, and a little angry. And so followed an argument. 

My points: 

• I don't want to be loved or valued because I am beautiful or not beautiful. I am what I am. I want you to love me. I want to be loved even though it is completely obvious I do not possess the most beautiful face or body in the world. Anything else seems somewhat shallow.
• And what a ridiculous statement! To line all the women up in the world and crown one of them with such a title is impossible and demeaning. Superlatives have always bothered me.  Plus, all I can think about is this: "And when you're on the street, depending on the street, you're definitely in the top three good-looking girls on the street, depending on the street"

His: 

• Well I really do believe that! 
• It's true to me and you can't tell me it isn't. 
• That is how I feel and I want you to know. I don't want to lie to you.

We compromised with an agreement that he can say that phrase (occasionally) if and only if he ads "to me" at the end. You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me.

I just really don't find being told you are beautiful to be a compliment. You have absolutely no control over what body you are given to inhabit.  And love? Love should be so beyond beauty or lack thereof. If it isn't, it isn't love.

I realize a good deal of this all stems from my time with Mr. Garrett Smith. Before he even knew who I was, he declared his love, which felt to me so based on appearance and construct that I mistrusted it from the start. Even though his love later became completely, powerfully real, the idea that it began so based on how I looked, how he valued that one part of me so greatly, made me itch. 

Let me be clear, beauty should be celebrated, created,  admired, and enjoyed in whatever form we find it in this life. But competitive beauty is depressing and unnecessary. 

In conclusion: I feel sick looking at the postures and makeup and clothes my 12-18 year old young women pose and post in, all in an attempt to elicit a stream of "OMG! you are SO beautiful!!!" comments-- hopefully more than their friends' last attempts accumulated--and therefore feel better about themselves. I want to scream (in a kind, and acceptable manner) to all women everywhere "You are not the most beautiful! You don't need to be! Give up the quest and just be happy!"

human

I looked at this this morning, though look doesn't really seem like quite the right word.  Was transported by, mesmerized by, completely fascinated by.  And have been thinking about it all day.

oranges

Being good, as it turns out, is not easy.

Deciding to eat that whole bag of ghirardelli chocolate chips today was not an evil choice, but certainly doesn't help to make me better, nor fall in line with what I know to be good for me. And it got me thinking about why I so easily 1) make choices based on urges rather than knowledge, right now rather than according to my goals 2) feel myself becoming less "good" than I want to be, slipping.

The idea of climbing up to heaven or falling down to hell, while obviously not literal, is nonetheless a helpful (if dramatic) visual in thinking about choosing and becoming good and why it is so hard. You simply do not/cannot fall or give in to righteousness or goodness. You must choose, you must act. And you must exert. Hence you never become a weak person by choosing to climb on, but you do get tired and shaky.

It has always been easier to go down than up. Be it personal goodness or attempts to help others. My favorite quote as a teenager was "If it's hard to do, it's good for you". If you feel resistance, it probably means you're doing the right thing.

But often the other challenge is I am not certain just what is good/righteous/correct/best/mosthealthy/true/efficient to climb towards. I believe in God, whole heartedly. I believe in helping others, and in beauty; creating, discovering, and seeking it out. I believe in Eric and Anna. And music and mountains. It's the daily living part, the personal sculpting and minute to minute choices that swirl and just happen all too often without enough consideration.

So here's me re-comitting to the climb, to rejuvenated muscles and extensive views. To cary on in attempts at helping others, even if I'm unsure of my impact. To being aware of, grateful for the challenge of choice, and creating strength and more goodness with each decision.

And here's a lovely reminder how our seeing and remembering the good in our experience effects us and those we love. Sit down with a cup of tea if at all possible.




We tramped the open moorland in the rainy April weather
And came upon the little inn that we had found together
The landlord gave us toast and tea and stopped to share a joke
And I remember firelight
I remember firelight
I remember firelight
And you remember smoke

We ran about the meadow grass with all the harebells bending
And shaking in the summer wind a summer never-ending
We wandered to the little stream among the river flats
And I remember willow trees
I remember willow trees
I remember willow trees
And you remember gnats

We strolled the Spanish marketplace at 90 in the shade
With all the fruit and vegetables so temptingly arrayed
And we can share a memory as every lover must
And I remember oranges
I remember oranges
I remember oranges
And you remember dust

The autumn leaves are tumbling down and winter's almost here
But through the spring and summertime we laughed away the year
And now we can be grateful for the gift of memory
For I remember having fun
Two happy hearts that beat as one
When I had thought that we were "we"
But we were "you and me".