when i was 14 i didn't get confirmed in the Catholic church. i don't know if it was harsh combination of life tests and adolescence, or if all of my years of Catholic schooling didn't drill enough guilt into my bones for not going to mass every Sunday or going to confession when something didn't sit right rather than on a schedule.
i don't hate religion. it's just not for me, or at least who i am right now. i believe in pulling pieces of many religions that make sense to me, and living life by those. it's personal, and it's my own. religion works well as the a guide for people on various levels of devotion . the religion i've clicked with most is Bokonism, which is fictional penned by Kurt Vonnegut. it's accessible foundation doesn't make fate and religion mutually exclusive, which is probably why it resonates with me so strongly. too bad devout Bokonists are fictional. maybe it's for the best; nobody else can misinterpret these face value ideas if they don't exist. Vonnegut would also yell at me for that use of a semicolon (look it up).
music is the closest thing i've had to religion. lately, "The Cave" by Mumford & Sons has been my Vatican 2. as i departed from Port Authority today (which is Hell if we are continuing with religious themes), i walked East and up towards my apartment. i accidentally stumbled upon Saint Patrick's cathedral, and intentionally walked in. the rollercoaster of unemployment has looped my emotions from the height of these Cathedral ceilings to the depths of the subways below. to my left was an old woman with cold shoulder and a formal prayer, probably saving my soul from hell since in irreverently entered the tourist attraction church with my iPod on. hooking a sharp right led me to Saint Anthony, the Saint you pray to when you lose those earrings your mom gave you or your credit card or your sense of self. finding the Saint of lost things so easily was an ironic blessing. being in a Church big enough to pray with my headphones another blessing. the sincerest way i know how to pray is through music.
station by station, breath by breath, i could feel my panic easing. i loosened control of my clenched grip on my own life, and oozed surrender to God/the Universe/insert-your-name-for-what-you-believe-in-here. inhaling the inspiration around me with rising crescendos and exhaling stress with the rhythm of my heart and this song was possibly my epitome of a religious experience, and i understand if it isn't yours. the rise and fall of my chest with each breath to the beat of an outside voice doesn't seem that far off from a burning bush or an angel telling a virgin she's preggo. somewhere in between an uninterested field trip of hip high fourth-graders and hunched over devout man in silence and an oversized cardigan, i was overcome by something greater than i was. a colorful fleet in prayer brought a moment of peace to an otherwise unconnected, unlikely family.
there were people praying in despair. there were people praying out of routine. there were people praying out of gratitude. there was a homeless man sleeping in a pew and employees gently enforcing rules and a student of a photography project. not everyone their identified with the Catholic religion. not everyone their was exploring religion. not everyone there was exploring themselves. not everyone there needed a prayer. but everyone there was under the wing of something great.
at least that's what it sounded like to me.
-k.
The Cave by Mumford & Sons
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you've left behind
The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat
But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck
And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again
Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind
So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears
But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck
And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again
So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand
So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say
Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be
And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck
And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Friday, April 15
Friday, January 21
well this sucks.
to another best friend--this is all for you.
"no my faith's not gone; it's just a different kind" -Bryan Fenkart, My Prayer
it was just a few weeks earlier than this time last year that we drove to see you in Delaware for Christmas Skipfest. here we are again, trying the get ahead of the same damn snow that chased us there a year ago. remember? we were snowed inside, watching Beer League (again) and i was mortified that i wasn't mortified about the fact that we were watching Jersey Shore. a bunch of (drunk) roid raged guidos with cut abs and (drunk) too-tan guidettes with inexplicably cut shirts using a mallard phone after drinking way too much Jaeger and either being or calling people sluts? going to college in Jersey can only give you a sense of humor for it.
there was a lot of laughter at those idiots. there was always a lot of laughter at Skipfests. laughter. beer. sports. calling C-list celebrities. absurd bets on how long until Seton Hall basketball loses momentum for another inevitable loss in a game that they could've/should've won. lather. rinse. repeat.
this time was bound to be different. same group of people. same snow. same awful basketball team. well, different players, same amount of awful. we arrived at your house, beer open by 11 a.m. and not long after did touch football follow. same routine, but it was palpable that we were down a Skip member. obviously we weren't going to sit around and cry about it as a group--for like a hundred reasons. 1) it's the last thing she would want. in fact she might come back just to smack us. 2) that's never been your style. 3) you can't make fun of me for emoting in this very blog if you are also emoting and 4) honestly, what the hell are we going to say?
our group has never been one for formalities. "formal" and "polite" caring is sugarcoating a situation that we all know heartwrenchingly blows. we aren't ones to hide. we don't spew trite "sorry for your loss" and "she's in a better place" phrases, even though both of those things may be true. you wouldn't remember at this point anyway if we did. we always call things what they are, which in this case is damn sad, and the best we can do is be there for you, regardless of what that entails. anything else, though prettier, on some level feels like a lie--at least to you. you never wade in comfort to bob above honesty. we just saw this with our own mutual best friend about a month earlier, in the same pain you're in now. it doesn't matter if it was expected or not, or when it was or how. the same mind boggling pain will rattle--but it will shake out.
i've never seen you be anything but strong and quite frankly the thought of you being less than that was something i couldn't even picture and sure as hell didn't want to entertain. then again i never had to until now. i knew you wouldn't completely fall apart reading the Eulogy. the weird thing is that sometimes the best way to be strong is allowing yourself to fall apart; letting your hard shell of strength crack a little. the brave option is to break down--you can't mend that which you don't recognize as broken. watching you pass this cruel life test of grace with ease was an odd combination of heartbreak and pride. exhibiting strength with realization of where you were forced to stand is an easy scale to tip out of balance, but watching you power through with integrity is just further evidence of what an amazing woman she was.
as you move forward, i know you can't avoid the absence, but i know you won't let the spirit fade. she will always be there. just like beer, football, and the ever flailing pirates.
-k.
"no my faith's not gone; it's just a different kind" -Bryan Fenkart, My Prayer
it was just a few weeks earlier than this time last year that we drove to see you in Delaware for Christmas Skipfest. here we are again, trying the get ahead of the same damn snow that chased us there a year ago. remember? we were snowed inside, watching Beer League (again) and i was mortified that i wasn't mortified about the fact that we were watching Jersey Shore. a bunch of (drunk) roid raged guidos with cut abs and (drunk) too-tan guidettes with inexplicably cut shirts using a mallard phone after drinking way too much Jaeger and either being or calling people sluts? going to college in Jersey can only give you a sense of humor for it.
there was a lot of laughter at those idiots. there was always a lot of laughter at Skipfests. laughter. beer. sports. calling C-list celebrities. absurd bets on how long until Seton Hall basketball loses momentum for another inevitable loss in a game that they could've/should've won. lather. rinse. repeat.
this time was bound to be different. same group of people. same snow. same awful basketball team. well, different players, same amount of awful. we arrived at your house, beer open by 11 a.m. and not long after did touch football follow. same routine, but it was palpable that we were down a Skip member. obviously we weren't going to sit around and cry about it as a group--for like a hundred reasons. 1) it's the last thing she would want. in fact she might come back just to smack us. 2) that's never been your style. 3) you can't make fun of me for emoting in this very blog if you are also emoting and 4) honestly, what the hell are we going to say?
our group has never been one for formalities. "formal" and "polite" caring is sugarcoating a situation that we all know heartwrenchingly blows. we aren't ones to hide. we don't spew trite "sorry for your loss" and "she's in a better place" phrases, even though both of those things may be true. you wouldn't remember at this point anyway if we did. we always call things what they are, which in this case is damn sad, and the best we can do is be there for you, regardless of what that entails. anything else, though prettier, on some level feels like a lie--at least to you. you never wade in comfort to bob above honesty. we just saw this with our own mutual best friend about a month earlier, in the same pain you're in now. it doesn't matter if it was expected or not, or when it was or how. the same mind boggling pain will rattle--but it will shake out.
i've never seen you be anything but strong and quite frankly the thought of you being less than that was something i couldn't even picture and sure as hell didn't want to entertain. then again i never had to until now. i knew you wouldn't completely fall apart reading the Eulogy. the weird thing is that sometimes the best way to be strong is allowing yourself to fall apart; letting your hard shell of strength crack a little. the brave option is to break down--you can't mend that which you don't recognize as broken. watching you pass this cruel life test of grace with ease was an odd combination of heartbreak and pride. exhibiting strength with realization of where you were forced to stand is an easy scale to tip out of balance, but watching you power through with integrity is just further evidence of what an amazing woman she was.
as you move forward, i know you can't avoid the absence, but i know you won't let the spirit fade. she will always be there. just like beer, football, and the ever flailing pirates.
-k.
Wednesday, May 26
let go.
have you ever absolutely screamed words in your head at someone that you can't actually say out loud? this drives me up a wall at warp speed, full throttle to the ceiling. it absolutely haunts me when i carefully conjure up scripts of conversations that never get spoken. they spoil in my head even though much of what i want to say has no expiration date.
most of my readers are probably surprised that i would even hesitate, much less be unable to say something as i often fearlessly jump at the opportunity to challenge or assist someone. or in brutal cases, attack someone.
however, when that conversation ventures into uncharted territory, or 'parts of the unknown' if you follow wrestling, and you also are clueless as to what reaction you will solicit, it can be hard to spit the words out, and REALLY scary.
recently the words i keep tripping over are "you're an alcoholic." it's odd that i can't open up this discussion, because alcoholism is a reoccurring force in lives of people i care about; people i REALLY care about; people i love.
part of the reason this conversation is so difficult to have other than the obvious difficult subject matter is that when i see this person, said person tends to be drunk. this is what i call confirmation. opening this door is also difficult because as shared as many traits of alcoholics/addicts in general are, everyone reacts differently. the spectrum of how an addict, or anyone responds when you have an unpleasant conversation rips out whatever readable nuggets you were grasping to and converts them to a ripe unpredictability that has a very possible chance of ending unfavorably.
i wrote out talking points. i wrote a letter that i never sent, and i don't know if i ever will. i've mapped out every possibility of what i would say on every given reaction. i intentionally exited on the wrong side of the subway on purpose to try to force fate into one of those magical encounters that ends like a movie montage with the most fitting soundtrack ever. but fate, by very definition, is not forced, and writing out notes on potential reactions is certainly not formulaic.
the hardest part of the whole conversation that i can't have is knowing that i can't be the one to turn someone sober. i can't make it my problem, and for once i don't want to. since i can't talk to the addict about it, i've been talking to god about it. i pray that he won't be sick with this disease anymore. i pray he won't die. i pray for trust that this will work itself out. i pray to surrender control i don't have. i pray to let go. he's a man of few words, but he gets the job done. usually in a mysterious way or something. today, this person told me he's going to try not to drink next week and see how things go. suddenly i could have the conversation, and i had it with confidence and surprising ease. i didn't even have to recount the fray's "how to save a life" more than six times.
i'm not saying this person will stay committed to sobriety, or won't relapse, or that it will be easy, or that it will make a huge difference in his life, but letting go allowed me to release both control and the words i've been clinging to for what feels like forever now. i feel redeemed. even if there is no great results, i know my cards are on the table, and they are all showing. you can read my pokerface. take that, GaGa.
-k.
if alcohol has become an unmanageable force in your life:
http://www.aa.org
if the drinking of someone you know is affecting your life:
http://www.al-anon.alateen.org/
----------------
Now playing: The Fray - How To Save A Life
via FoxyTunes
most of my readers are probably surprised that i would even hesitate, much less be unable to say something as i often fearlessly jump at the opportunity to challenge or assist someone. or in brutal cases, attack someone.
however, when that conversation ventures into uncharted territory, or 'parts of the unknown' if you follow wrestling, and you also are clueless as to what reaction you will solicit, it can be hard to spit the words out, and REALLY scary.
recently the words i keep tripping over are "you're an alcoholic." it's odd that i can't open up this discussion, because alcoholism is a reoccurring force in lives of people i care about; people i REALLY care about; people i love.
part of the reason this conversation is so difficult to have other than the obvious difficult subject matter is that when i see this person, said person tends to be drunk. this is what i call confirmation. opening this door is also difficult because as shared as many traits of alcoholics/addicts in general are, everyone reacts differently. the spectrum of how an addict, or anyone responds when you have an unpleasant conversation rips out whatever readable nuggets you were grasping to and converts them to a ripe unpredictability that has a very possible chance of ending unfavorably.
i wrote out talking points. i wrote a letter that i never sent, and i don't know if i ever will. i've mapped out every possibility of what i would say on every given reaction. i intentionally exited on the wrong side of the subway on purpose to try to force fate into one of those magical encounters that ends like a movie montage with the most fitting soundtrack ever. but fate, by very definition, is not forced, and writing out notes on potential reactions is certainly not formulaic.
the hardest part of the whole conversation that i can't have is knowing that i can't be the one to turn someone sober. i can't make it my problem, and for once i don't want to. since i can't talk to the addict about it, i've been talking to god about it. i pray that he won't be sick with this disease anymore. i pray he won't die. i pray for trust that this will work itself out. i pray to surrender control i don't have. i pray to let go. he's a man of few words, but he gets the job done. usually in a mysterious way or something. today, this person told me he's going to try not to drink next week and see how things go. suddenly i could have the conversation, and i had it with confidence and surprising ease. i didn't even have to recount the fray's "how to save a life" more than six times.
i'm not saying this person will stay committed to sobriety, or won't relapse, or that it will be easy, or that it will make a huge difference in his life, but letting go allowed me to release both control and the words i've been clinging to for what feels like forever now. i feel redeemed. even if there is no great results, i know my cards are on the table, and they are all showing. you can read my pokerface. take that, GaGa.
-k.
if alcohol has become an unmanageable force in your life:
http://www.aa.org
if the drinking of someone you know is affecting your life:
http://www.al-anon.alateen.org/
----------------
Now playing: The Fray - How To Save A Life
via FoxyTunes
Tuesday, December 15
grow accustomed to the darkness and see what you're supposed to see...
"head up straight i know what i'm doing
head up straight i know what i'm doing
head up straight i know what i'm doing
...i don't"
lately these lyrics from Charlotte Martin's 'Four Walls' are cycling through my head. after a good cry with my sister i was thinking about how full of shit we all are. hear me out.
i think the smartest people aren't necessarily the most knowledgeable, but are the people who realize that constantly learning is an invaluable skill. the smartest people are the ones that don't fear the unknown as a threat, but view it as an opportunity. the smartest people are the ones who plunge into uncharted territory while recognizing limitations. the smartest people don't struggle for control of the uncontrollable or even fully want to. the smartest people admit that we may have knowledge--even expertise--in some areas--but as far as life in general goes, we have no idea what the hell we are doing. the smartest people recognize their limitations and weaknesses, and utilize their strengths to change them. the smartest people, in my estimation, seem to be the most courageous. and it takes a lot of courage to admit that there is no tried and true universal formula for how every is supposed to live. and it takes a lot courage to have faith that this is true.
earlier i was discussing with my friend that i feel the fundamental difference between she and i is that i start from a guarded place and break walls down while she is naturally unguarded and has to work to protect herself by constructing walls. together, we could save an emotional construction company a lot of money. neither of these philosophies is better than the other and they both provide an oddly fresh perspective. but the valuable common thread that they do share is gauging where your 'smarts' according to my definition is. and i am no Merriam Webster. but there is a certain level of trust that neither of us have a real answer as to what works more efficiently.
when i was young and my parents struggled to answer the weird questions only kids can raise, they used to say that they would "look that up in the parenting handbook." they were pretty upset when they found out that my sister and i didn't pop out with some kind of hand out. i remember my mom had a Girl Scouts handbook, but I think that was more about badges and cookie sales sheets. similarly there is no handbook to life. we can only assume that life is supposed to turn out this way, because it is. if you don't believe this, you will probably swim in a sea of regret until you drown, and with any luck end up here anyway. if you escape the harsh waves, you make the best of what's around.
lately, according to my own definition of smart--well let's just say i haven't hinted at shattering the blond stereotype. i've been fighting for control that i don't have, and won't have, across the board. i've been so worried about keeping it together i've forgotten the value in falling apart--or even just being a little messy. i've forgotten that there is a middle ground between being buttoned up and a total disaster. it's called human or something.
what i was able to sort out that everything is as complicated as you make it. sometimes complicated is good. complicated can yield depth--it can lead you to places you would never go. i know plenty of people who have depth that never have faced traumas, but sometimes the road to depth is messy.
but other times me just need to K.I.S.S. and keep it simple, stupid. or an 80's metal band. or an affectionate verb. sometimes all are required. most encounters in life are complicated enough. if we add our own baggage to the recipe, we are only tangling the web further. sometimes this is inevitable, and we can only manage where we are emotionally. but other times the answer it just to boil it down to it's raw bare bones. if your past is hindering your present, how the hell do you expect to build a future.
i'm working on making my daily life as simple as those "see spot run" books.
i'm trying to keep things simple--even my predicates.
-k.
----------------
Now playing: Missy Higgins - Any Day Now
via FoxyTunes
head up straight i know what i'm doing
head up straight i know what i'm doing
...i don't"
lately these lyrics from Charlotte Martin's 'Four Walls' are cycling through my head. after a good cry with my sister i was thinking about how full of shit we all are. hear me out.
i think the smartest people aren't necessarily the most knowledgeable, but are the people who realize that constantly learning is an invaluable skill. the smartest people are the ones that don't fear the unknown as a threat, but view it as an opportunity. the smartest people are the ones who plunge into uncharted territory while recognizing limitations. the smartest people don't struggle for control of the uncontrollable or even fully want to. the smartest people admit that we may have knowledge--even expertise--in some areas--but as far as life in general goes, we have no idea what the hell we are doing. the smartest people recognize their limitations and weaknesses, and utilize their strengths to change them. the smartest people, in my estimation, seem to be the most courageous. and it takes a lot of courage to admit that there is no tried and true universal formula for how every is supposed to live. and it takes a lot courage to have faith that this is true.
earlier i was discussing with my friend that i feel the fundamental difference between she and i is that i start from a guarded place and break walls down while she is naturally unguarded and has to work to protect herself by constructing walls. together, we could save an emotional construction company a lot of money. neither of these philosophies is better than the other and they both provide an oddly fresh perspective. but the valuable common thread that they do share is gauging where your 'smarts' according to my definition is. and i am no Merriam Webster. but there is a certain level of trust that neither of us have a real answer as to what works more efficiently.
when i was young and my parents struggled to answer the weird questions only kids can raise, they used to say that they would "look that up in the parenting handbook." they were pretty upset when they found out that my sister and i didn't pop out with some kind of hand out. i remember my mom had a Girl Scouts handbook, but I think that was more about badges and cookie sales sheets. similarly there is no handbook to life. we can only assume that life is supposed to turn out this way, because it is. if you don't believe this, you will probably swim in a sea of regret until you drown, and with any luck end up here anyway. if you escape the harsh waves, you make the best of what's around.
lately, according to my own definition of smart--well let's just say i haven't hinted at shattering the blond stereotype. i've been fighting for control that i don't have, and won't have, across the board. i've been so worried about keeping it together i've forgotten the value in falling apart--or even just being a little messy. i've forgotten that there is a middle ground between being buttoned up and a total disaster. it's called human or something.
what i was able to sort out that everything is as complicated as you make it. sometimes complicated is good. complicated can yield depth--it can lead you to places you would never go. i know plenty of people who have depth that never have faced traumas, but sometimes the road to depth is messy.
but other times me just need to K.I.S.S. and keep it simple, stupid. or an 80's metal band. or an affectionate verb. sometimes all are required. most encounters in life are complicated enough. if we add our own baggage to the recipe, we are only tangling the web further. sometimes this is inevitable, and we can only manage where we are emotionally. but other times the answer it just to boil it down to it's raw bare bones. if your past is hindering your present, how the hell do you expect to build a future.
i'm working on making my daily life as simple as those "see spot run" books.
i'm trying to keep things simple--even my predicates.
-k.
----------------
Now playing: Missy Higgins - Any Day Now
via FoxyTunes
Saturday, December 5
fate vs. coincidence: an accidental, destined story:
a friend of mine/a classic rock enthusiast has a sister who recently moved to California. she went without a job, but with an apartment and a 3,000 mile desire for change. he sent me a text message in the hours and days after, noting the thick layers of irony guised as song waves on his radio.
later that same night at one of the three bars in South Orange, NJ, i heard 'the favorite song' of someone i very much care about, that i probably shouldn't care about. and i probably wouldn't care about as much if these sobering reminders didn't weave their way into my life, particularly in the mediocre bar scene.
around that same time my sister's friend gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby. i don't remember if the child was a boy or a girl, or how much it weighed, or what overpriced stroller they purchased. what i do remember this child was a reminder of how beautiful life can be. what i do remember is that this long time friend of my sister, and new mother, had recently taken on the role of taxed and grieving sister. her far too young sister had recently passed in a painfully long death from cancer. whenever people say it's the 'natural process of life' and that this person is 'in a better place,' they forget that the pain, especially in cases like these, that the pain is incredibly unnatural when the person dying isn't ready to go, and they don't want to be 'in a better place.' they just want to stay.
after she gave birth, she said she heard all of her sister's favorite songs and all of the songs related to her. because child birth just doesn't make enough of an emotional impact.
and that's just music.
those who know me by now know that i think music writes our souls, sometimes revealing, or even forcing ourselves to admit to pieces of ourselves that we may not have even known were there. and if it isn't writing our souls, it is at least punctuating it.
in instances like the aforementioned, i debate whether these occurrences are fate or merely extreme coincidences. and if they are fate, are they fate in the way that we project?
i once vowed i would never live in Manhattan. i don't know why.
i now live on E. 88th street and work in Murray Hill. i hesitantly scooted across the bridge into Queens/Closer to the Mets because i was still unemployed after an entire summer of job hunting in my cozy South Orange studio. i loved my apartment, but having graduated i knew there was not much left here for me anymore. i also didn't have a choice.
i was 'supposed' to move in with people i met in college by now. but it turns out, the economy isn't so great right now. who knew?!
so it turns out, i was 'supposed' to sublet a room at my sister's place until at least mid-December. instead, we got bed bugs (see previous post that is now a wretched memory). there are few things harder to get rid of and more disgusting.
so now i'm 'supposed' to live in Manhattan--which i was supposed to do. i was supposed to be one of those anxious New Jersey transit/PATH people that had to face copious amounts of commuters and New Jersey and New York taxes. i know that i ended up here by a series of decisions. informed decisions. decisions that were planned and weighed and thought out. this isn't what i wanted, and i've never been happier.
i think it's pretty cool that God gave us this free will thing. and i appreciate it. i'm stubborn enough with my parents dictating decisions, who have a direct dialogue with me. normally they have the 'we say so' or 'it's our money' card, but they still let me grow. they also read this blog ;)
regardless of our free will, i'm confident that he (or she or it) is still in charge up there. back to fate.
maybe all of it is fate. maybe it's all serendipity. maybe there is no such thing as coincidence. maybe each move we make is carefully plotted by something greater than we can even grasp. maybe there is a marionette that let's us pull the strings, but still yanks us back to where we should be. i'm inclined to believe some aspects of this; i make decisions(not hugely important ones) based on lucky pennies. before this postseason i would totally accept that A-Rod's post season mishaps were partially to blame on his #13. i proceed cautiously after black cat sightings.
the obvious counter argument is 'then why do bad things happen?' if someone or something were in control of every detail, why would they be so cruel? i don't fully believe that you can appreciate the good without the bad, although the good does taste a whole lot sweeter after. but i do know a lot of people, who have endured a lot of bad things, and are a lot better off for it. bad is more than a perspective check. sometimes bad is just a road to good. sometimes bad makes you see what you were blind to, or opens up doors that you were content with being closed. sometimes bad turns predictable and comfort upside down for the better. sometimes what is incredibly painful ends up protecting your heart from something worse. maybe the fact that i realize this is an argument to believe in fate enough. easier typed than believed.
my mom says 'what's meant to be will find a way.' this opens the door to wear fate isn't always what we project. this sometimes drives me up a wall and sometimes makes me smile from ear to ear. this is because what's meant to be and what i think is meant to be don't always align. or maybe they do. but i also thought i should be in new jersey right now. fate's not instant gratification. that's the part that drives me nuts. fate is usually right and makes us happy. that's what makes me smile. maybe the fact that someone keeps biting their way back into our lives says something about them, or maybe it says that we will learn from the battle instead. maybe someone being driven away for change rather than chasing a hanging dream will teach us to make a change. or maybe they will fall flat on their face and realize the comfort of home. either way, i think it's important to keep our hearts open to what we should learn, rather than what we think we're supposed to learn. otherwise, we'd be learning what we already know. which in essence is nothing at all.
or maybe i'm full of it. maybe we arrived here because of decisions we made with no outside impact. maybe we could have saved ourselves a lot of heartache if we took our own determined paths. maybe our itunes are just a random collection of songs that sync up at inconvenient times. in a way, this would be comforting. because we would control everything except for death and taxes. but in a way, that's no fun. and until fate proves otherwise, i can't buy into it entirely. i didn't want to be where i am, but i'm happy here. even though i made the decisions to get here, i think the fact that i never wanted to be hear says something, and speaks volumes when it does.
believe. believe. believe. don't stop believing. but don't imitate journey in any other way--they kind of suck. but maybe as i'm curing myself of my bronchitis and sinusitis--or as i like to call it, bronchusitis, i'll hear journey and never forget this blog.
-k.
----------------
Now playing: Charlotte Martin - Beautiful Life
via FoxyTunes
later that same night at one of the three bars in South Orange, NJ, i heard 'the favorite song' of someone i very much care about, that i probably shouldn't care about. and i probably wouldn't care about as much if these sobering reminders didn't weave their way into my life, particularly in the mediocre bar scene.
around that same time my sister's friend gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby. i don't remember if the child was a boy or a girl, or how much it weighed, or what overpriced stroller they purchased. what i do remember this child was a reminder of how beautiful life can be. what i do remember is that this long time friend of my sister, and new mother, had recently taken on the role of taxed and grieving sister. her far too young sister had recently passed in a painfully long death from cancer. whenever people say it's the 'natural process of life' and that this person is 'in a better place,' they forget that the pain, especially in cases like these, that the pain is incredibly unnatural when the person dying isn't ready to go, and they don't want to be 'in a better place.' they just want to stay.
after she gave birth, she said she heard all of her sister's favorite songs and all of the songs related to her. because child birth just doesn't make enough of an emotional impact.
and that's just music.
those who know me by now know that i think music writes our souls, sometimes revealing, or even forcing ourselves to admit to pieces of ourselves that we may not have even known were there. and if it isn't writing our souls, it is at least punctuating it.
in instances like the aforementioned, i debate whether these occurrences are fate or merely extreme coincidences. and if they are fate, are they fate in the way that we project?
i once vowed i would never live in Manhattan. i don't know why.
i now live on E. 88th street and work in Murray Hill. i hesitantly scooted across the bridge into Queens/Closer to the Mets because i was still unemployed after an entire summer of job hunting in my cozy South Orange studio. i loved my apartment, but having graduated i knew there was not much left here for me anymore. i also didn't have a choice.
i was 'supposed' to move in with people i met in college by now. but it turns out, the economy isn't so great right now. who knew?!
so it turns out, i was 'supposed' to sublet a room at my sister's place until at least mid-December. instead, we got bed bugs (see previous post that is now a wretched memory). there are few things harder to get rid of and more disgusting.
so now i'm 'supposed' to live in Manhattan--which i was supposed to do. i was supposed to be one of those anxious New Jersey transit/PATH people that had to face copious amounts of commuters and New Jersey and New York taxes. i know that i ended up here by a series of decisions. informed decisions. decisions that were planned and weighed and thought out. this isn't what i wanted, and i've never been happier.
i think it's pretty cool that God gave us this free will thing. and i appreciate it. i'm stubborn enough with my parents dictating decisions, who have a direct dialogue with me. normally they have the 'we say so' or 'it's our money' card, but they still let me grow. they also read this blog ;)
regardless of our free will, i'm confident that he (or she or it) is still in charge up there. back to fate.
maybe all of it is fate. maybe it's all serendipity. maybe there is no such thing as coincidence. maybe each move we make is carefully plotted by something greater than we can even grasp. maybe there is a marionette that let's us pull the strings, but still yanks us back to where we should be. i'm inclined to believe some aspects of this; i make decisions(not hugely important ones) based on lucky pennies. before this postseason i would totally accept that A-Rod's post season mishaps were partially to blame on his #13. i proceed cautiously after black cat sightings.
the obvious counter argument is 'then why do bad things happen?' if someone or something were in control of every detail, why would they be so cruel? i don't fully believe that you can appreciate the good without the bad, although the good does taste a whole lot sweeter after. but i do know a lot of people, who have endured a lot of bad things, and are a lot better off for it. bad is more than a perspective check. sometimes bad is just a road to good. sometimes bad makes you see what you were blind to, or opens up doors that you were content with being closed. sometimes bad turns predictable and comfort upside down for the better. sometimes what is incredibly painful ends up protecting your heart from something worse. maybe the fact that i realize this is an argument to believe in fate enough. easier typed than believed.
my mom says 'what's meant to be will find a way.' this opens the door to wear fate isn't always what we project. this sometimes drives me up a wall and sometimes makes me smile from ear to ear. this is because what's meant to be and what i think is meant to be don't always align. or maybe they do. but i also thought i should be in new jersey right now. fate's not instant gratification. that's the part that drives me nuts. fate is usually right and makes us happy. that's what makes me smile. maybe the fact that someone keeps biting their way back into our lives says something about them, or maybe it says that we will learn from the battle instead. maybe someone being driven away for change rather than chasing a hanging dream will teach us to make a change. or maybe they will fall flat on their face and realize the comfort of home. either way, i think it's important to keep our hearts open to what we should learn, rather than what we think we're supposed to learn. otherwise, we'd be learning what we already know. which in essence is nothing at all.
or maybe i'm full of it. maybe we arrived here because of decisions we made with no outside impact. maybe we could have saved ourselves a lot of heartache if we took our own determined paths. maybe our itunes are just a random collection of songs that sync up at inconvenient times. in a way, this would be comforting. because we would control everything except for death and taxes. but in a way, that's no fun. and until fate proves otherwise, i can't buy into it entirely. i didn't want to be where i am, but i'm happy here. even though i made the decisions to get here, i think the fact that i never wanted to be hear says something, and speaks volumes when it does.
believe. believe. believe. don't stop believing. but don't imitate journey in any other way--they kind of suck. but maybe as i'm curing myself of my bronchitis and sinusitis--or as i like to call it, bronchusitis, i'll hear journey and never forget this blog.
-k.
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Now playing: Charlotte Martin - Beautiful Life
via FoxyTunes
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