A Lasting Love.

Here's a little Valentine's Day post I'd like to share with you :)


I regularly take open dance classes at Broadway Dance Center, and when the semester isn't in session or I have a day off during the week, I can usually be found there in the middle of the day taking whatever I can.  One of my favorite ballet teachers teaches from 1:30-3 Tuesday through Friday, so whenever I have the opportunity I back my bag, head uptown and get into his class.  


Because I've spent so much time in that studio over the past six months or so--and because my schedule is usually fairly consistent from week to week--I've been able to witness one of the most wonderful acts of love I've ever seen firsthand, and on multiple occasions.  I've been blessed to grow up in a family full of examples of lasting love (Mom and Dad, Nana and Pop-pop, aunts and uncles, cousins and cousins-in-law) so knowing and seeing what true love is--what true love can do--as years go on isn't a new concept to me.  But as with everything, things that are familiar to us have the ability to grow stagnant.  I only mean this in the sense that these wonderful examples I have to look up to and learn from have always been in my life, so real love's presence becomes part of my daily routine...Part of my daily understanding.  


That's why being able to witness that same love by way of these strangers has been a humbling refresher.  Whenever I see them my heart feels glad and I feel grateful to be able to share the same space with them and be a recipient of the happiness that silently ripples through the air as they so honestly share in their appreciation for one another.


Here's a journal entry I wrote one day summarizing my reaction to this beautiful couple whenever I see them:




January 5, 2012


I'm back at BDC for ballet class and it feels so good! I'm expecting to be a bit stiff today so we'll just take it slow and ease back into it.  No matter what, I'm thankful to be back and am excited to work!


So every time I see this man he warms my heart!  There's an old man (70s? 80s?) whose wife takes the ballet class before the one I take.  She's also quite old, but comes to this class very regularly, which I think is really awesome and inspiring in itself.  But the coolest part is that her husband is always here with--and for--her.  Always!  I think there's only been one occasion that I can recall seeing her and not him.  While she's in the 90 minute class, he sits outside the studio on a bench quietly guarding her dance bag and valuables.  And he watches her.  And he does so with such intent and so lovingly!  Sometimes he'll close his eyes for a rest for a few minutes but he's almost always sitting there watching patiently as she goes through the all the exercises.  After barre she usually comes out for a drink of water, they exchange a few words and then she heads back into class to pick up the first center combination.  All through the second half of class she glances out the big window to him and gives him a smile or wave from time to time, and he always reciprocates.  After class when she comes out of the studio, they greet each another for real for the first time since class has started, and you can't help but recognize their adoration for one another.  She then takes her dance bag to go change out of her dance clothes, and still he waits.  By now my class has started, so as he waits for his wife to come back he remains sitting patiently in his spot and watches as ballet class starts all over again before him, this time a whole roomful of strangers doing plies and tendus.  But he watches us respectfully (and I always feel motivated to really dance through those first few barre exercises with such a wonderful audience member outside...I feel that he deserves the respect he pays us!), and when his wife comes back from the dressing room about 10 minutes later, their exit routine is always the same: she puts down her things to help him to his feet, he picks up her dance bag to carry for her, she takes him by the arm, and off they go.  It's incredibly sweet and, in my opinion, an amazingly beautiful example of real, true love.  


I wrote this journal entry while waiting for one class, but I have been watching these two work as a team since the middle of last summer.  And it's true...Every single time I see them I'm amazed more and more, because from the first time I "met" them up through now, no matter how practiced this dance studio schedule has become for them, it's the newness of their dedication to each others' company that really touches me.  He supports her by sitting through her ballet class twice a week.  In return she dances class joyfully, loving every moment and, by how I've interpreted her behavior, she seems to dedicate herself not particularly to class in the way that I would, (being a 21-year-old just on the edge of stepping into "the real world" as a professional dancer, taking each class as a new opportunity to work on technique and performance and personal approach to the art) but to the time there and with whom it's spent with.  She and him are spending this time together; no one else taking the class matters to her, and none of us in the waiting area preparing for our own classes really matter to him.  This is just another way for them to spend time together, and the love between the two is the most beautiful thing.  Even just their simple smiles and waves back and forth throughout the course of class allow you to realize the reality of their gratefulness and thankfulness for one another's company.


And on top of it all, they're consistent.  No matter what the days bring, they're always at the studio, and they're always there together.  And this is a wonderful blessing for kids like me, because I honestly feel honored to be sharing the same space as them whenever I see them, and that love that I'm so incredibly fortunate to witness stays with me throughout my day, even when my mind is filled with any and all things unrelated to this beautiful couple.  


In sharing their love with one another, they ultimately share it with all who get to see it.  


Love like that can't be beat.  Because with each passing day, week, year, with each victory and with each trial, that kind of love gains strength and wisdom.  


I hope that everyone has had a beautiful Valentine's Day today and has felt loved!  Just remember that love spans all of time; today may be the day of love according to the calendar and the card and chocolate companies, but the gift of true love--and better yet, the power true love holds--manifests itself every day, every year, day or night, in rain or shine.  


It's real. It's beautiful. And it's yours. Embrace it and share it :)

September 11: A Decade Later.

            At this exact moment 10 years ago I was sitting in my 5^th grade classroom wondering why we couldn’t go down the hall to music class and why so many kids were being called down to the office for early dismissal.  I remember being nervous, not because something might be wrong, but because the auditions for our elementary school percussion band were scheduled to be that day and because I was a child who took plans and scheduled events very seriously, I grew a little more nervous by the minute that they were going to be cancelled.  My mind was diverted, though, as my 5^th grade teacher made up for our inability to travel to the opposite end of the hallway for music by writing the chorus lyrics for the “Friends” theme song up on the overhead projector and teaching it to us.  Though strange that we couldn’t leave the room, our teacher had a beautiful singing voice and we all loved to hear her sing so it was almost like a fun treat.  Slowly but surely, the number of calls through the intercom from the office asking for name after name to come down and meet their parent to go home increased.  The first few I guessed were coincidence and that those kids were really lucky to be able to leave school early.  Time kept passing and I think about 11 or 12 kids had already left before my name was called.  I gathered my things and went down the hall, totally clueless.  Clueless but annoyed because I’d now have to miss those auditions if they were still going to be held.  As I approached the front lobby of the school I saw my talking with a few teachers who were stationed there on duty, one of them being our music teacher.  She assured me that the auditions would, be rescheduled (not to worry), and wished Dad and I well as we left the building.

            We had to stop at the grocery store on our way home.  Dad gave me a bit of a briefing on the events that I’d been unaware of to this point but didn’t go into more detail than necessary.  Not only did he not want to scare me (I tended to get very anxious very quickly) but really, a 10-year-old is most likely not going actually understand just what exactly the course of events actually meant.  And quite honestly, because it had all happened so suddenly, catching the entire world off guard, I’m not even sure he had been able to really process it all quite yet. 

            We picked up milk (and maybe something else that I don’t remember) and went home.  Dad was in a serious mood, so I knew that what he’d told me was a real deal but it was hard for me to picture exactly what he was talking about until we walked into our house.  Mom was in the living room sitting on the couch with the news on and there was continuous footage of planes hitting two tall buildings, those buildings burning up and those buildings collapsing in on themselves.  Mom wasn’t saying much.  Not to me at least.  She may have been talking with Dad and filling him in on what had been happening since he came to get me from school, but other than that they were quiet.  I was quiet.  I didn’t know what to say, so I asked what I could do that day.  Mom and Dad were both enraptured by these news reports and I knew at that point, though my naïve brain couldn’t quite comprehend the reality of what had just happened to the country, nor did it have the facts to really do so, that it was big.  Watching these news feeds of buildings in New York City burning to the ground, and even closer to us, knowing that an important government building in DC had been flown into as well (not to mention finding out that yet another plan went down just hours up the road in Pennsylvania) gave me all the information that I needed to know that the country was in danger. 

            I was told that I was allowed to go outside and play, but I couldn’t leave the front yard.  I went to the front door and looked outside.  Our cul-de-sac was eerily quiet.  Not only quiet of motion, but just quiet in general.  Living so close to two airports, we almost always have airplanes flying overhead in some direction or another.  Not today.  The skies were silent.  The street was silent.  I went outside to try to play, but had a sinking feeling in my stomach the whole time and didn’t last too long out there.  I found myself constantly looking skyward, constantly feeling uncomfortably unsafe.  I decided that that day would be a good indoors kind of a day.

            Other than that the rest of the day is a blur, if anything.  I don’t remember how I filled the hours of my afternoon.  I don’t remember what we had for dinner.  I don’t remember my last thoughts before going to bed.  All I remember is feeling in danger all day.  I felt safer being in my house with my family, but I remember feeling so vulnerable.  Our country was attacked in such a massive way.  No one was ready for it.  I didn’t understand the specifics of it.  But all I knew is that we were hit.  We felt it as a family.  We felt it as a country.  It was felt throughout the world.

            Anniversaries of September 11^th came and went.  Every year I’ve felt that same pang of uneasiness with more and more sadness and anger added to it as I’ve gathered more and more facts.  I do have to say, though, that on this 10-year anniversary I’m feeling an intensity of emotions that succeed any I’ve had to date.  10 years ago right now, as I said, I was sitting in my 5^th grade classroom.  10 years later, at this very moment, I’m sitting on my couch in my NYC home, just two short miles from the site of the late World Trade Center.  The person in this very position 10 years ago would have heard the explosions of the planes at impact.  They would have seen billowing smoke escape from the southern end of the island.  They would have felt the ground tremble 5 flights beneath them.  While I played nervously in my front yard at home, they would have watched as their own backyard fell to pieces, taking with it lives of thousands of people.  As we watched the television screen helplessly from our couches, they would have watched helplessly from this very rooftop the very attacks that were leaving the rest of the country and world helplessly speechless happened without control.  Sitting here right now I’m overcome with thankfulness, I’m feeling incredibly blessed yet I’m saddened and frustrated.  But above all else I have faith in hope.  And I have my love in faith. 

            I never saw the World Trade Center in person.  We took our first family trip to New York City during spring break of 6^th grade, so the only city I’ve ever known firsthand is the one with only the memory of the towers.  Yet sitting here today I feel more like a New Yorker than ever before, almost as if I’ve lived here for years, rooted in the city for longer than the short time I that I realistically have been; while I never had the opportunity to know the city before the attacks, the towers have left a lasting presence that only grows stronger by the day.  The planes and their hijackers may have been able to physically destroy actual architecture and physically take lives that should never have been taken that morning, and the skyline may still seem empty even after 10 years without the towers standing solidly above the surrounding city, but everything that those buildings symbolize, all that the lives lost—and the lives saved—symbolize, cannot be shaken.  This is truly a beautiful city.  This is truly a beautiful country.  But the magnitude and the memory of September 11, 2001 will never be released from their hearts.  It will always remain in my heart.

Life's A' Comin' - Let's go!

Recently I've been finding myself thinking about a lot of things I'd like to do as these next few years come my way.  Things I'd like to do, places I'd like to go, sights I'd like to see...I've never really liked thinking about making a "bucket list," per se, as I feel like that term has a way of putting a sense of urgency into thoughts and dreams that really aren't intended to have stress attached to them, but I guess it's what you could call my growing to-do list.  I find myself mostly wanting to go places and be in environments and settings that I don't normally find myself in on a daily basis, but a range of ambitions have been passing through my thoughts more and more these days.  I'm not sure what has caused these sudden desires so abruptly, but I think I can attribute it at least in part to the fact that with senior year of college beginning in a week and a half, life beyond school walls is coming on quick.  And as nerve-wracking as it is, I couldn't be more excited to step into the big panorama of life!  I'm seeing that there's so much to do and so much to see, and there's really absolutely no reason to limit my experiences!  Being so young, there's still so much opportunity to soak everything in, and that's just not going to happen by sitting in my room and thinking about it all happening!  Life is about getting out there and doing, and I fully intend to do and see as much of everything as I can, while I can!

In no particular order, here are some of the things that have been on my mind:

1. Take a road trip along the coast of California.  I want to drive along the ocean, watch the sun set over the Pacific, and walk barefoot in the sand in the evening breeze in rolled up capri jeans and hoodies.

2. I want to go on a boat ride.  I haven't been on one in so long and so miss being out on the water.

3.  I want to go to New England.  I love everything about the Northeast.  Small harbor towns are some of my favorite places to go.  I love the sense of community, I love, again, being right on the water, I love the salty smell of fish that always lingers in the air, I love the family-owned businesses, the piers, the boats, the history...I just love it :)

4.  I want to dance in a touring company or show for awhile to be able to travel around the country, or even the world, and see things.

5.  I want to write a book.  I have no idea what to write or how to go about it yet, but I've had it on my heart to write for awhile, so I'll just roll with it and see what happens!

6.  One day I'd love to go to the Mediterranean and eat real Mediterranean food!  It's one of my all-time favorite cuisines, so being able to experience it authentically would make me-and my taste buds!-happy, happy, happy :)

7.  I want to touch the lives of children somewhere.  Again, don't know where or how, but I just pray that something I'm able to do along the way does something for the upcoming generation(s) for the better :)

8.  I want to go apple picking.  This has been something I've wanted to do for the last few years now but haven't been able to make it happen!  Really hoping that this is the year :)

9.  Also, this fall, I want to walk through a place like this:

10.  I'd really love to try my hand behind a camera and get into photography, even if it's just to a small degree.  I love the idea of seeing seemingly everyday things or sights through an artistic eye and capturing that moment on film.

11.  Keep letter-writing a practiced art :)

So here's just the beginning.  These days are about to bring incredible blessings, testing trials, and gifts more amazing than my words could ever do justice.  I pray, friends, that we go together on these journeys of ours.  We're given the gifts friendships and relationships so that we may build each other up in love as we go through these days and times.  Let's go see what we can discover.

Revelation 14:12-13.

So remember this post?

http://michaela-catherine.blogspot.com/2010/10/balancing-act.html

Well this one’s kind of similar.  Just coming from the opposite end of the struggle.  It’s another piece of writing I’ve done for myself—you can read it or not, like it or not, but this is just a little writing I’ve done to clear my head and make some sense of the many trains of thought that have been running through the Grand Central of my brain.  (That may have been a cheesy metaphorical reference.  I apologize.)  Anyway, this has been something I’ve been meaning to sit down and write about for a while but I’ve kept putting it off because I haven’t wanted to face it.  It’s been easier up until now to succumb to the issue, but I’ve now learned that a person can only survive at an extreme for so long before you realize you can’t live solely on what you’re being given there.  It’s been a rocky last couple of months in more than one respect and due to high stress and skewed priorities, my central focus was placed around food once again, just this time instead of dwelling on calorie intake and when my next meal would be, I was ignoring what I was actually eating or why and all that mattered was the fact that I had something to eat.  All the time.  Again, like last time, this hasn’t been going on long enough to really develop into a terribly life-threatening condition, but I’ve gotten an intense enough experience in what it feels like to become heavily reliant on food and binge eat (without the purge afterward) that I know furthering this habit would result in some less-than-ideal repercussions. 

It’s not a good feeling, eating bags upon bags of chocolate upon pints of ice cream upon pizza upon fill-in-the-blank, but for some reason it became okay in my mind to do this.  Beginning as a way out of stress, these habits spiraled quickly into a struggle with fear; the sadness that came about with the pounds of junk food consumed weekly became a fear of totally reverting back to not eating enough, causing more overeating and more sadness and more fear…I think you get it.  It got to the point eventually where I knew I not only didn’t need any of what I was trying to fuel myself with but I knew I had no desire to even eat it, but for some reason I felt the need to have it.  So if I didn’t have anything that would satisfy this “need” on-hand off I would go to Duane Reade or Walgreens or the Food Emporium (sometimes more than one at a time…) to restock.  (Mark my words, these outings were happening much, much too often.)  Sometimes I’d tear into whatever my poison of choice was for the day before I even got home, but I would eat so much so quickly at one time by body temperature would go up and I’d start getting shaky thanks to sugar overload and automatic nervousness.  I’d usually try to make sure I was alone so no one would notice the amount I was eating so I was anxious and jumpy and the second a door handle would turn I’d try to hide my dish of whatever I had; I was constantly on edge.  Eventually this started effecting my sleep habits and motivation…Few nights’ worth of good sleep equals diminishing motivation and increasing laziness.  Dance-wise I’ve been affected as well.  Obviously since I haven’t been fueling my body correctly I haven’t been performing at my highest potential, really, all year causing a subconscious drop in confidence.  It’s been quite a rollercoaster, mostly on a downhill decline, and as difficult and frustrated as it’s made me, I’ve ridden this ride to the very end. 

From this place at the bottom of the hill, I can now leave everything I don’t need and take with me all that I have learned into a whole new light.  It’s a really, really great feeling. 

If I’m going to have to go through these kinds of phases though (as most dancers do…food is really a very real and prevalent issue that most deal with on some level…I’m not saying all struggle with it per se, but being such a physical and visual field, health and body image are always lingering issues), I’m very thankful to have had them at this point in my life and budding career when I still have a little cushion of time before me to take what I’ve learned from both places and find what’s worked and what hasn’t and mesh them into the balance necessary for a healthy approach to life as a working professional dancer. (“There is a time for everything…”—Ecclesiastes 3.)  What’s helped me all along, is knowing that in the grand scheme of things, this period of time is but a small blip on the radar.  I’ve known for the last three and a half months (about how long the first phase went on about a year ago) that I will come out of this health funk because really I have no choice, not only from a dancer’s perspective but from a general human being’s perspective.  No one can live on bags of chocolate, just as no one can live on sticks of celery.  Maybe for a while it works to fulfill whatever kind of need you have, but just as when we rely on anything of this world to fill an emotional void, we’re going to be left empty and unhappy eventually because whatever it is that we’ve become so dependent on will run out.  At this point, I don’t think I can eat one more bit of chocolate or sugar for some time.  Not only has the taste become unappealing and a tad sickening, I’ve had so much of it over the past few months that it’s lost it’s value.  It’s not a treat to me right now and doesn’t make me happy to consume.  It will eventually, I’m sure of it (actually, I’m positive of it!) but only when I learn to appreciate small quantities of it again instead of inhaling, literally, a bag meant for 10 people in one or two sittings.  Food is no longer to be an energetic focus but a source of sustenance.

As I’m coming out of this 16-month span of living in two wrong extremes, I’m relieved and thankful and blessed to see the incredibly valuable lessons that I apparently needed to learn, and because I’ve been allowed the opportunity to experience a small dose of both ends of an undesirable quandary, I feel so much better equipped to tackle that middle area—the place of balance that contains all the keys and tools I need to dive right into the beautiful dance community—with full force thanks to experiential knowledge.  This isn’t a time of my life I plan on moving on from and forgetting, but rather a time I plan on moving forward from with information I didn’t previously have.  (“Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings…” Romans 5:3-5.)  I do believe that that phase—the time to majorly progress into the field I’ve been called to work—has come :)

A Day in the Square.

*Name changed for privacy reasons

             

I had the honor of meeting an incredible individual today.  I apologize if this story seems like one long ramble, but I’ll do the best I can to make my thoughts concise and cohesive. 

In Stuyvesant Square Park with a book and some time in between classes this afternoon, I couldn’t help but enjoy the beautiful sun and the cool spring breeze surrounding me as I claimed a spot on a bench and settled in for a nice sit outdoors.  Kids had just gotten out of school so there were several mother/nanny and child pairs strolling through, teenagers were huddled around picnic tables gossiping and laughing, older adults were sitting with books and newspapers…There weren’t too many people around, but there were enough different people to provide a fun and interesting atmosphere.  I opened my book to begin reading Water for Elephants (I’m so excited to really get into it) when I noticed someone in a motorized wheelchair go by in front of me out of my peripheral vision.  I didn’t think anything of it.  The person passed me, but only got about 10 feet away or so before turning himself around to get my attention, which is when I looked up.  I noticed right away that he was seriously physically disabled; his legs were limp, his right foot dangling beneath the footstool and not even brushing the ground, his fingers were splayed and very tense and couldn’t move independently and he held his face lopsided, chewing on the top right side of his mouth and drool was flowing down his chin, but he didn’t do any damage to himself seeing as half of his teeth were missing.  His motions were jerky but slow, and his mouth was wide open as he let out some audible but not understandable sounds. He could speak, but it was nearly impossible for me to understand.

Here’s the first interesting thing I learned about myself in all of two seconds: The defensive city mentality one picks up on quickly when living here is more engrained in my mind than I’d thought.  Immediately when I realized he wanted something my heart started racing and I began thinking of ways to get out of having to face whatever situation I was about to encounter.  Before I had time to start thinking too much, however, he began wheeling himself to where I was sitting which is when I noticed the keyboard.  Just after I saw that I heard, “Hello. My name is *Mike.  Can I talk to you?  I need someone to talk to…A friend.”  The words were coming out of a speaker in the keyboard and after getting over the initial shock of the computerized tone of his voice and the unexpectedness of the whole thing, I replied by saying, “Sure!” though not exactly sure what I was supposed to do or say next, if anything.

           

Before getting into the conversation, let me just say that this conversation was very slow, which was something else that completely threw me.  Because of Mike’s immobility and the lack of control he had over his hands, it took him a long time to type his thoughts into his keyboard, and we’d sometimes sit in silence for minutes at a time while he worked diligently.  (And yes, I do mean worked.  I’ll go into this later, but for my new friend, the simple act of communicating was a real task, and by observing his process I learned a lot about my own perception of time and communication.  Again, I’ll go into that later.  First, the conversation!)

           

            “What are you doing?” Mike asked me.

            “I’m just doing a little reading!  I have some free time right now so I’m just enjoying some time on this beautiful day!” I replied.

            “I have work to do.” Mike said.

            “Oh really?” I asked.  “What do you have to work on?”

            “I am in school.”

            “Very cool!  What are you studying?”

            I think his first response to my question was full of typos because the sounds that the computer made and spelled didn’t make any sense.  He tried again.

            “I want to be a writer, “ he said.

            “Oh wow! That’s awesome! I love reading! Do you like to read?” I probably sounded dumb by asking that question, but I was still a bit thrown off the whole thing.  Mike nodded his head, but I could tell he was thinking more about what he was going to say next.  I actually asked the next question.

            “What’s your favorite thing to write about?”

            “Life and love,” he replied.  I thought that was incredible.

            “That’s awesome!” I said.  (I was very repetitious in this particular conversation this afternoon.)  “Love is beautiful, isn’t it??”

            He looked at me and kind of half nodded, half shook his head.  He may like to write about love, but he wasn’t convinced that what I’d said was true.

            The next thing he said to me was, “Love is war.”

            I smiled.  “Yeah, you’re right about that, but it’s also a beautiful thing, isn’t it?  It can be pretty great, right?”

            He looked at me and started to try to speak with his own voice again, and I did the best I could to try to pick up on what he was trying to say but was having some trouble.  (Mike’s facial expressions were very helpful…I liked seeing him smile because it was big and wide and his eyes got squinty and sparkly.)  I decided to prompt the conversation next.

            “What do you love?  What kinds of things do you write about that you love?”

            I’m going to paraphrase his next thought because I really can’t remember the exact words, but he sort of changed the subject a little by saying something along the lines of how he likes to talk, but talking makes us mad.  My heart dropped at this point because I could really begin to see the sorrow in his eyes.

            “Does talking always make us mad though?” I asked.

            He shook his head and made a sound resembling a “No,” and I said, “Just sometimes?” He nodded.  “It’s okay though!” I said.  “It’s okay to be mad sometimes, but sometimes talking can make us happy!  What makes you happiest?”

            He looked at me, he looked around and he began to type.  What I heard come out of his keyboard’s speaker this time did it for me. 

            “I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels.”

I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels.

I was speechless.  And probably gave the dumbest response possible by basically rephrasing what he said in question form. 

I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels.  (Needless to say, this statement has stayed with me all afternoon.)

He nodded in reaction to my dumb question though, and at this point I decided it was probably a good time to thank him for coming over to talk with me.  (Thank goodness Mom and Dad taught me “Please” and “Thank you” at such a young age, because the smallest “Thank you” put that beautiful smile right back on Mike’s face.  He really was stunning.)

Mike threw me off guard again with his next question, asking me what I need and why we don’t talk about it?  I told him I didn’t understand the question and he said, “You have needs.”  Now, being a 20-year-old girl in a world where having “needs” refers to things I’d rather not talk about here, my mind was fast to begin to question his intentions.  But I stopped my mind just as fast, for I knew he didn’t mean anything harmful by that statement.

So I said, “You’re right!  I definitely do have needs, just the same as you do!  Maybe not the same ones, but I’ve definitely got them!  But right now I’m just sitting here, talking to you and enjoying this beautiful day so I don’t think I need much more than that!”

He thought for a minute and then asked, “Do you want to get something to eat?”  I couldn’t help but smile again.  What a sweet guy!  But, again, for safety’s sake, I felt that that was an offer I had to pass up.  But a “thank you for the offer” put that smile right back on his face.

This was the part of the conversation that I like the most because for the next few exchanges he wasn’t using his computer but I could fully understand everything Mike was trying to say to me.  I’d told him I was going home tomorrow when he asked if I’d want to get food, and he (barely) verbally asked, “Where?” I told him I live in Virginia, and asked “Long?” for how long I’d be away.  I told him I wasn’t totally sure, a few days and he nodded and thought again.  I asked if he lived around the area and he nodded.  I asked if he’d lived in New York his whole life and his face lit up as he nodded even bigger.  I asked if he liked living in the city and I got the same response.  All of it was understood without the computer.  Really, really awesome to me.

By now it was time to get back to class, so I apologized that I had to leave but it was time to get going.  I’d missed a call from Lila and called her back really quickly so we could meet up to walk back to the studio, but as I got my things together and before I dialed her number, Mike smiled again and stretched out his hand.  I shook it as I stood up and while I found out where Lila and I were meeting up, Mike was busy typing one last time.  I hung up the phone and heard, “You have something there,” and he was pointing to his head.  A leaf had fallen in my hair and he just wanted to let me know before I left!  (Again, what a sweet guy!)  I laughed and thanked him again for his time, he smiled and began to roll away and waved and said, not typed, goodbye as we parted ways.  I looked back through the iron fence as I headed back toward Third Avenue and Mike wheeled away through the people filtering through Stuyvesant Square, leaving as quietly and peacefully as he’d arrived.

I couldn’t be more thankful right now for the opportunity I had to share those 45 minutes with Mike in the park and I really hope I run into him again in the future.  His spirit, though troubled, was so inspiring.  I was humbled today in a major way by witnessing someone who has the desire for so much, but no means by which to execute much and definitely not quickly.  As I sat and watched him think and type and literally work at carrying on this conversation, the slow pace really allowed me to study him.  I could see his brain working a thousand miles a minute, but his stiff hands just couldn’t keep up.  His brow was furrowed in concentration and every so often he’d look up to see if I was still engaged; he was very attentive to everything.  I could tell that so much was going on inside, so much that was itching to come out—and that was able to come out eventually!—but because of his physical state the pace of his physical activity was on a much slower rate than much of New York City.  It was much slower than the pace at which I live, anyway.  Which really made me think about the way I’ve been carrying myself lately.  Always running around, always connected to someone in some way, never stopping, and constantly acting without thinking…We live in a world these days that is always in motion and things are always needing to be done.  But during my time with Mike in the park this afternoon, everything else stopped.  My phone kept buzzing but I just couldn’t answer at the time.  I had to get back to class but I’d leave when I left.  The only necessary thing that had to happen at that time with having a simple conversation with a new friend, and I was able to really embrace that because Mike’s only goal was to just talk.  Nothing else and without a catch.  The cars were flying by on Second Avenue outside the fence, the pigeons were swooping by, people were coming and going, but none of that mattered in the least. 

People always say to live in the moment, but in today’s reality it can be argued that that is a nearly impossible task.  I sure do argue that on a daily basis usually.  And then, when I am trying to live in the moment I know that I can be quick to judge and justify based on what’s right before my eyes without taking the time—taking the time—to learn and understand.  That’s not living in the moment.  That’s just drawing conclusions before diving in.

I need people to need me, but all they see is four wheels.

             

A time for everything.

I haven't posted on this blog in quite some time!  If you're following my daily "like" list, that's awesome!  Thank you!  If not, it's cool!  That's just where my attention's been more focused the past few months, but I've got some thoughts today that need more than a few paragraphs.  (Don't worry...My "like" will go up later today!)  Or maybe it'll only take a few paragraphs?  Who knows.  Anyway, here we are!

Winter break is coming to a close and 2011 is off to a great start.  Today I'm happy to report that I'm coming at you live from 95 North (unless the bus driver got on a different road while I was sleeping before), making my way back to the city of New York.  I couldn't be more excited to see that big beautiful city of mine, walking its streets and getting back into what I know to be my real life these days.  I was thinking last night how different my attitude toward going back is this year compared to last year...This time last year I was in no way excited about returning.  Thanks to some delayed homesickness--I didn't experience any upon my arrival in August and only a small bit after Thanksgiving break--I was really having trouble getting myself into the mindset I needed to be in.  I could have stayed home in Virginia for weeks longer and I'd have been happy as a clam.  This year that hasn't been the case.  I'm feeling much more like I was at the end of the summer...Thankful for every moment of the time I was able to spend at home, but fully ready and needing to be back in the city dancing every day, being actually productive again.  (I've realized this past year that I'm more of a visit home more frequently for less lengthy spans of time kind of gal.  A week or two is usually good, but any more than that I tend to get antsy and cranky and I lose any kind of routine that I'm able to get myself into during my normal schedule.)

Which brings me to my next little spiel.  (I promise, I'll connect them in a minute...Or try, at least! Ha!)  For those of you who don't know, NYU's dance program is a three year program, meaning technically this past fall was my sophomore semester and I go back on Monday as junior.  (Crazy, right?!)  Anyway, I have to say that "sophomore slump" ain't a joke!  I'm not saying I completely slacked off the first four months of the school year, but I definitely didn't have my priorities straight.  I feel like I never really settled in, never really hit my stride, thus causing stress due to lack of solidity.  Last year I had my routine down pat--which, for me, is something that I really like to have to follow.  Because I couldn't seem to recreate the previous year's, I found myself annoyed and, again, stressed for a good part of the semester.  I did, however, have a lot more fun the last four months because I wasn't taking myself as seriously as I had all year last year, particularly throughout the day in my classes.  I mean seriously, when you're spending as much time as we all do in school, we really have to try to have fun while we're doing all that work!  So long story short, this past fall semester just never felt quite right.

The greatest thing about both of these phases is just that: they're phases.  They're periods of time that have come to a close.  I'm not saying I'm happy because break is ending and I'm leaving my family and friends from Virginia home, but I am very excited about getting back to my home and seeing all my school and city friends and really getting these next few months under way.  I'm ready to be spending 10 hours a day in class and rehearsal and doing work rather than laying on the couch watching "The Office," though I'm not regretting those couple of days one bit! :)  I'm not saying fall semester was a complete waste of time and I didn't do anything, for I was still pulling off good grades and got work done.  But I'm fully guilty of not doing it to the absolute best of my ability.  I do believe the tables have turned...

I've come back to this place of being ready and excited to tackle the world.  For me, knowing that the road ahead is going to be a tough one, knowing that I need to be taking care of myself mentally and physically for the tasks that are to be accomplished, I've finally become tired of laziness once again...Because I know that in the long run, laziness is not going to get me anywhere I want/need to get to.  But to get to this place, it took me serious homesickness, two too-long breaks (summer and winter) and a goof-off semester.

I'm writing this because I feel that it's important to remember that life is a series of phases.  The highs, the lows...Life includes the whole spectrum from very best to very worst, all of which are absolutely important and relevant and contain lessons and knowledge that we can walk away with for whenever we'll need it next.  After these particular examples of the ones I've found myself experiencing and looking at where I am now as opposed to a year ago, I always remind myself that generally our frustrations (my frustrations...speaking for myself) are temporary.  They always run their course!  Sometimes, though, as you walk through the stormy places in life, praying through them, looking for the light but not seeming to find even the smallest glimmer, it seems as if you'll never put this phase behind.  This is how I feel when I dwell on things too much and overanalyze to "fix" to the point of ridiculous obsession.  In times like this, when nothing I do is able to rectify a situation, I'm reminded that I'm actually not in control in the least, no matter how much I like to think so.  It becomes obvious after awhile--sudden changes and alterations to my lifestyle are short-lived do nothing but worsen the problem because I'm now stressing at the fact that I can't maintain these changes steadily, thus feeling like I've failed again and.  It's safe to say the motivation to turn things around is pretty much shot at that point.

This is when I give it up.  I don't give up, but I give it up.  The problem, the annoyance...It's not my burden to carry.  I acknowledge the fact that I'm not where I want to be or where I need to be.  I see that there are things that need to be changed.  I recognize that things are going on that shouldn't be.  And I realize that everything I make myself do out of haste is counterproductive.  But as soon as I quit holding onto that weight with a death grip is when I see that shift that I couldn't seem to make happen.  And sometimes, that takes lots of time working through less than ideal circumstances.  But again, it's a phase and phases are not permanent

Anyway, this is what I'm keeping in mind as I start fresh with a new semester.  We've got a new semester, a new year...It's time to take things as they come, know that we're always okay, and most importantly, do everything with all that we have :)

A quick thought about love.

The older I get the more I love holidays (especially the holidays-Thanksgiving through Christmas) for the time I get to spend with family and friends.  I don't need the store-bought "stuff" anymore to enjoy a holiday.  Give me the people I love and time to share over all the rest of it any day!

Today, as you all know, is Thanksgiving and I just got to thinking a little bit about the generalized idea of love.  Today I was blessed yet again to be the recipient of the great love demonstrated by my awesome, awesome family!  The gifts given to me today--overall, the gift of love--reminded me of something very important:


We do not have to search for love.  Love is everywhere.  And we are ALL one hundred percent susceptible and deserving of it.


My awe-inspiring family and friends are prime examples of that.  I never feel the need to prove one thing to them.  I don't have to explain myself, I don't have to justify myself...I don't have to wonder whether or not I'm worthy of their attention.

While we as people may have created skewed ideas about some weird hierarchical standing of the distribution of love, love itself doesn't know the difference between one person and the next.  All it knows, because of by Whom it's been created and for what reason He has done so, is that every single one of us has been created to love AND to be loved.  No one person is the same, but love sees past our differences and bonds all of those differences together.

Isn't that so beautiful?!
I sure think so.

Happy Thanksgiving and happy holidays, my beautiful friends :)