Change of Plans

How will people's stories change in this day and age?  In a forgotten age, people's stories were, "We met on the subway," or at a school dance, or "I saw her walking down the street and she was the most beautiful thing I ever saw."  Then it changed to, "We met in a coffee shop," or "He sat down next to me at a play," or "I dropped my pencil in class, and before we knew it, we started talking and couldn't stop."  Perhaps you'll meet at a bar or through an internet dating site.  Will someday, people meet through liking videos on Facebook?  

This video was interesting.  Do you like it?  Tell me on Facebook.  ;P

Anchor Your Heart

“So I know that we all want to live right and we all want to do the right thing and we’re all trying to figure out what that is. But you know mainly I think it’s important that we look after each other and look after the people we love. Because… every once in a while you hear these little stories that’ll just break your heart. And yesterday, these two sisters, Jamie and Paige, were driving with a friend of theirs, Michael, to go to work at a camp, to work with these kids, and they died in their car. And it’s just like, you know, that it happens so fast all the time, and you never say the right thing at the right time, but maybe we should all try to speak our minds as if it’s the last thing we’re ever gonna say, and say things to the people we love like it’s the last thing we’re ever gonna ...get to say to them, and maybe it would make the world work out a little bit better if we thought like that a bit more. Anyway, my condolences to those who lost.”
~ Dave Matthews, Citifield, 7/16/10


Rest in peace, Jamie, Paige, and Michael.

At the Bottom of a Cup of Tea? Patience.

Originally posted on Blogher January 7, 2010:

While brewing some tea, I realized it was my grandmother who tried to teach me patience with a cup of the stuff. I am a person who wants everything yesterday, which explains why it took so long to understand the lesson. Perhaps a cup of tea each day will bring greater revelation, drop by drop.

I still miss her, even though she's been gone almost seven years. She passed away after losing a battle with Emphysema. My grandmother smoked her whole life, despite serving as the main cantor and psalmist at my parish church, celebrating weekly services and other special masses. Her greatest hits were "On Eagle's Wings" and "Be Not Afraid." Every time I hear those hymns, I get all verklempt. And during a funeral? Fuhgeddaboudit.

My grandmother had a beautiful soprano voice, although I cannot remember how each note and cadence sounded. Members of my community continue to approach my family to tell us how they miss her warm presence. Not only a stunning woman, my grandmother also possessed an infectious aura that drew many to her side. She made people feel at ease when she spoke to them. Even if she did not remember your name, she would call you "Hon" or "Love," and you felt as if she had known you for your entire life. Of course, I'm quite sure that she always remembered my name. She called dogs "Pussycat" and once owned a cat named "Dog." It was just her special way.

Despite how much I miss my grandmother, especially during mass, I cherish fond memories of her. I resurrected one particular memory while brewing a cup of green tea on a frigid January night. It's often said that a watched pot never boils, yet there I stood, impatiently waiting to drink some nice warm tea, already. I crossed my arms and sighing, thought of the minutes in the near future when I would be forced to wait even further for the tea to steep. What an inconvenience! Forget about my new year's resolution and earnest prayers for patience and peace in my life: I wanted my tea and I wanted it now!

Then a voice whispered in my ear: "Caitlin, the best things come to those who wait." Or maybe it was "Patience is a virtue, Love." Either way, I felt the pang of some healthy Catholic guilt, then the dull ache of missing my grandmother. Only at that moment did a spark of remembrance happen and I finally smiled.

My grandmother, the President of the Women's Club a.k.a. The Most High Queen of the Old Ladies, had invited my mother and I to the Annual Tea Luncheon at the VFW Hall. I was only eight--I not only hated the bitter taste of coffee and tea (blech), but I felt uncomfortable around these sickly-sweet-smelling, blue-haired women. I resisted my gag reflex as I bit into an egg salad tea sandwich. My grandmother did not notice my discomfort, however. She just proudly beamed at her daughters and granddaughters yakking at the table. She demonstrated how to steep the tea (dunk, a-dunk, a-dunk) and cautioned not to put milk in my raspberry tea or it would curdle. When I lifted the cup to take my first sip, I copied her raised pinky, hoping to one day be as elegant as she. I soon remembered one of the reasons I hated tea: it burns your tongue! My cursed impatience to wait for my tea to properly steep and cool resulted in an inability to use my taste buds for the next few days.

As I stood over the stove, almost fifteen years since that day at the Luncheon, a light bulb switched on. I laughed at my eight-year-old self that I still managed to ressemble at 22. I finally understood my grandmother's lesson. Hurry up and wait. If you rush it, you'll get burned. Be patient in all things in life, but especially for your tea to cool. My grandmother somehow continues to teach me lessons about life, about family, and about what really matters. I am not always perfect (or patient), but I am always, always thankful.

Snippet II

I want you to fall desperately, hopelessly, and tirelessly in love, always. To be in love is a great thing. Sometimes it hurts, but then you learn from it. Sometimes it is absolutely out-of-this-world wonderful and nothing can touch you. Either way, it is always worth it. Seek to experience love at least once in your life than never at all. Search for love. Wait for love. Be patient with love. Ask love to come sit in your heart. Be brave and open your heart to love. It is the only transcendental thing we've got on this green earth. Never falter in your quest to love others, and you will be blessed with love in return.

Snippet

God is in the trees.
He's in the wind that kisses the leaves,
in the breasts of birds that fly on wounded wings.

"El Destino"

Maybe there is no such thing as destiny when it comes to love and matters of the heart--no "right place at the right time" or "getting in on the ground floor." How egocentric and proud to think that my little life has a great destiny that was planned out before I came into being, a little love story all my own.

Life is simply a series of events, seemingly random, but which we piece together to form meaning, to carve out some sense of purpose to our minuscule lives. Love exists, but finding it in its many forms is 90% accidental and only 10% willed.

Our individual destinies are what we make of them. The choices we make determine the direction our lives take. This is not to deny the existence of a higher power because I believe we are given free will. But perhaps that's it--we're given this gift to do with what we will: good or evil or nothing at all.

I particularly like this quote which gives me hope about finding love in the small things, in the big things, in others, and everywhere:

“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in a love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”

--Pedro Arrupe, S.J.

Carpe diem--seize the day!

As You Like It

I am the girl in the yellow cardigan.
I am the one who got away.
I fall in love with one actor per play,
and a few humans per ride on the subway,
so don't think you're special.

I am the girl who notices a missing line.
Mere mortal, fool, I forgive you, but
every line is essential,
even the seemingly throw-away ones:
The words or lines He added
just to complete His obsessive compulsion
with language and math, rhythm and rhyme.
Was it painstakingly purposeful
or did perfection come naturally?

I don't know anything about actors.
I never studied them in the wild.
My thoughts are loud and crowded,
tucked away so neatly that you'll never find me,
though I imagine you'll look.
I should not have come alone.

I am the girl who takes
one prolonged gaze out into the Audience Sea,
one moment of smiling eye-lock,
the simple poetry of lips forming measured words,
and files them in my card catalog heart
marked under "A"
for "actor" or "apple," "Avon" or "ache."