life as i know it...

dawn breaking...

I awoke this morning to see the sun rising over the far edge of the cornfields, wavering lights of orange alternating with the gray shadows of the massive trees beyond my bedroom window.  To see the morning break open a new day, to separate the darkness and night from the bright buzzing of daylight, is truly a miracle.  And to see it amidst such beautiful scenery is an even greater miracle.

A year ago, I never imagined that I would now be living on a farm in Ohio.  I could never have predicted that I would walk a half-mile each morning (not because I measured out the distance but because that is the length of my driveway down and back), or that I would call out greetings to cows grazing in the pasture each time I arrive home.  There was no way to foresee that I would live on a startlingly beautiful stretch of land where fresh blackberries grow next to Christmas trees so green that their shadows give off the slightest tinge of blue.  I never imagined myself here, and yet this is where I am today.

Each day, dawn breaks and a whole new world opens up all around us.  We have no way of knowing what the future holds, or even what this very day may hold for us.  In a world where uncertainty is inevitable, we must remember to appreciate the small miracles and enter each new day with hope and gratitude.

another quiet night...

It's another quiet night in this northeastern corner of the Midwest.  I'm gradually finding more peace and comfort in these quiet nights, and the days too.  Driving to the grocery this evening to do the weekly shopping, with the sun's rays casting an aura of heavenly beauty across the endless fields of green, I felt so alive.  More and more often, I realize I'm having that feeling of pure aliveness these days.  It doesn't usually last long, often times only a moment or two.  But those few moments are blessings.  Those few moments are my reminders that each of life's experiences offer adventures and possibilities and moments of just blissful happiness at being alive.

Last night, Hubby and I sat downstairs on the patio and enjoyed hours of conversation with our new neighbors.  As our laughter punctuated the cool night air, I felt a refreshing breeze wash over me.  I was happy.

This morning, I took Dakota for a half-mile walk.  Watching him leap through the tall grass and wildflowers, my spirit lifted and I knew today would be a good day.  I was happy.

After numerous warnings of the brutal cold of Ohio winters and the depression that is apt to settle amongst many in this region, I have decided to take some more knitting and crochet classes.  Making the decision to pursue one of my favorite avenues of creativity makes me happy.

These are small, seemingly insignificant moments.  But they are moments that make me happy.  And tonight, as I sit here in this quiet night, soaking in this blessing of peaceful solitude as Hubby and Dakota sleep inside...I am happy!

Being so far away from home has made me start to think more about the years I spent growing up on the Georgia coast and all the many aspects of life back home that I took for granted.  Today especially, on the 4th of July, I am reminded of home and the simple pleasures of life there.  July the 4th is one of biggest holidays celebrated in my family.  This day that marks the birthday of our freedom and independence in America became a day not very different from Thanksgiving for us.  Of course the food and festivities were different, but the overall celebratory nature of the day has always been one of thankfulness and the sweet company of time spent with family.  The days were always spent lounging on the beach or by my aunt's pool, wandering through the booths at the Sunshine Festival, gathering for an evening cookout, then watching the fireworks shoot out their magic over the ocean.  My memories of this holiday are full of exquisite images that paint the picture of the perfect summer day...the feel of hot sand beneath my feet and the gritty, stinging sensation of the individual grains of sand rubbing against sunburned skin...the salty scent of the ocean, the muddy smell of the marsh, and the delicious aroma of meat cooking on the grill...the sound of home-made ice cream being churned, laughter, and the shocking boom of fireworks exploding...outdoor showers, clothing of red, white, and blue, island traffic jams, music reverberating from the bandstand out across the rough, ocean waters...

My mind is filled with memories of this day in years past.  This is not the first year I have been away from the island on this day, but each time I'm not there, I am filled with these memories (and so many others).  These times away are the impetus for creating new experiences and traditions, but they are also the opening of a pathway that returns me to my past, allowing me to revisit the most special moments of the experiences and traditions that have so meaningfully impacted my life.  I am grateful today for the memories I have, for those afternoons I spent lying on the sandy beaches of home, for those evenings of good food and firework displays in the company of family.  While I hold those memories close to my heart today, I will enjoy a day of celebration with my family here.  With the sun finally shining (and the temp only predicted to reach a max of 75 degrees), we'll lounge outside with good books and each other.  The sand will be replaced with lush, green, freshly-cut grass this year.  Expansive cornfields and flower gardens will replace the view of the ocean.  But the smell of meat cooking on the grill will not be so different.  And we will still see a magical display of fireworks exploding against the night sky.  The fireworks will not present their magic over the ocean this year, but when we look up, it will be the same sky seen as our other family gazes upward from back home.

After all, we may be far from home here, but this is still America and the simple pleasures of this day can (and will) still be appreciated.

an unexpected day...

I should have been at work today.  I expected today would be my first day working at the hospital in Massillon, but as fate would have it, I am resting at the house instead.  After a pleasant morning yesterday, meeting the other interns and getting acquainted with the general internship program for the consortium here, I was met with unexpected and confusing news in the afternoon.  Due to Ohio state government budget issues, I am not allowed to begin my work at the hospital as planned.  After a brief time of internal panic, I was assured that I will nevertheless graduate from an APA-accredited internship program.  However, that was about the only question that was very directly answered.  The other questions...when I will get to start work, where I will actually be working...could not be answered.  And because I do not fully understand what is even happening with the state budget up here, I am now left waiting and wondering what this year will indeed hold for me.

In the meantime, I'm sitting in my patio chair, looking out at the backyard.  The day is gray and chilly here, so strange for an afternoon in July.  My body is not accustomed to such weather and I'm bundled in sweats, oddly missing the heat of the South.  My bare toes feel like ice cubes, which naturally leads me to wonder how I will survive the brutally cold winter up here.  I try to comfort myself by believing that the cold, icy weather expected of winter will not be such a surprise as this cool 60 degrees in the middle of summer.  In fact, I keep trying to find all sorts of thoughts to comfort myself today.

With the holiday weekend approaching and this unexpected gray day on the farm, I have found myself continuously battling the feeling of being terribly and intensely homesick.  I cannot help but think of my family in Georgia, the sweltering heat and humidity only a mild annoyance in the company of such loving companionship.  I think of the art and crafts festival that is probably being set up down by the pier as I write these words.  I imagine the beach, the good food, the fireworks spraying out vibrant designs of exquisite colors above the ocean.  I think of these images and I miss home so much.  I long to be there, to share in the festivities of what was once my favorite holiday. 

Hubby continues to be such a blessing for me, now more than ever.  He holds my hand while the tears fall, understanding that my missing home is just a part of me, and today, and the circumstances.  He reminds me that the year ahead will be a good one, and I do believe him.  I believe this in my heart.  I met some wonderful people yesterday and had a nice, long conversation with a new friend last night.  I know that the problems with beginning work will be resolved.  I've read the weather report and am relieved to see that the weekend is expected to be warm and sunny.  We've even found some local festivals and fireworks for our own celebration of the 4th.  But today, in this moment, that belief does not take away the heartache of missing home.

Sometimes I think it's better to just allow myself to feel whatever emotion is present.  I think that is especially true today.  So instead of fighting the heartache and sadness today, I think I'll just let the tears falls when they want.  I'll dig out my cozy leg warmers and snuggle under blankets on the couch.  I watch Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, and I'll let myself miss Home.

after quite some time...

After quite a while, I have decided the time has come for me to begin writing again (or rather posting my writing again).  In the midst of transition, I sit amidst a new world tonight.  This world is quiet and peaceful.  The air is surprisingly still and yet still cool, a blessed relief compared to the familiar southern heat.  We have been living in Ohio for 8 days now.  While I find the beauty of this place captivating and the serenity comforting, I am still homesick for Georgia.  The reality that this is now my home (at least temporarily) has not set in; I feel as though any day now I will pack a suitcase and return to my true home in Georgia. 

Tomorrow is the beginning of the biggest change yet: the first day of my internship.  I feel nervous, a bit excited, and mostly apprehensive about all the uncertainty that lies before me.  It will be a year of learning and growth I am sure.  I imagine it will be a year of learning and growth in many domains, besides just my profession.  Nevertheless, I feel the burden of anxiety that always accompanies the unknown.  It is all a part of change, and I am doing my best to embrace change in my life these days.

Perhaps it is the new environment or possibly the fact that I am finally unbound from endless school and multiple jobs, but I have already seen changes beginning to take place within myself.  They are small, seemingly irrelevant changes, but they are changes nevertheless, and they are changes that are meaningful to me.  I am not rushing through life nearly as quickly these days, enjoying time and taking each moment as it comes.  I am reveling in the natural beauty all around me and allowing myself to appreciate the feel of the breeze against my skin, the scent of honeysuckle permeating the air, the sound of birds chirping and chimpmunks scampering about the yard.  I am enjoying the pleasure of time spent with my sweet husband and my precious Dakota.  While we are all still adjusting to the recent move, Dakota seems happy here.  Hubby and I take him for long walks in the evenings and he literally bounces through the tall grass and hay, filled with playful energy.  At night, he sleeps in the bed with us, usually curled between us and I find myself reveling in those moments as well, the warmth of his fur resting on my shoulder.  There are other changes as well.  We have started cooking dinner each night and sitting down to eat together at the table.  Perhaps that sounds normal, but until recently, it has been an a rare occurrence for us.  The changes are really nothing more than embracing simple pleasures and yet it is the simple pleasures that make life worthwhile.

As I watch the moon, half hidden behind wispy clouds, I wonder what tomorrow (and the year ahead) will bring.  Whatever it is, I feel happy tonight.  I feel at peace.  And that feeling cannot be overestimated...it is truly a blessing!

riding the waves...

There are days, moments even, when I feel unexplainably drawn to people from my past.  Memories surge forth like unexpected tidal waves, crashing over me and causing a feeling of disorientation.  In these moments, I experience a sense of bewilderment.  Oftentimes, I feel overwhelmed and desperate to discover the meaning lying beneath the monsoon of emotions.  I am flooded by a sea of experiences long since past, taken back in time, months or years or more than a decade, in pensive recollections. 

 

I am prone to analyzing every nuance of life experiences, particularly the ones that occur unexpectedly and without warning.  A single moment can take me full-force on a spiraling journey of reflective introspection.  I question and wonder, exploring every seeming possibility until I have exhausted my mind.  I cling to the mysteries held within those moments, part of me afraid to let go until I have uncovered at least the outline of the hidden puzzle.  The most difficult part is accepting that some mysteries are simply not meant to be deconstructed.

 

For the most part, I try to live my life in the here-and-now.  Intellectually, I recognize that too much focus upon the past or the future is not only unhealthy, but also an unfulfilling way of living in the world.  However, despite my best attempts to embrace the present, there are those moments that creep into my awareness, startling me into reveries and disrupting the natural flow of my existence. 

 

Tonight, I feel like the tide being pulled out to sea, waves of fragmented memories interrupting my thoughts.  Rather than fighting this historical influx of experiences, I am allowing myself to float along the surface of the water.  I am riding the waves of memory, at moments catapulted to the ocean’s depths before resurfacing and catching another breath of fresh, salty air.

 

Floating on my back, I look up and see the brilliant blue of a summer sky.  I can feel the soft grains of sand beneath my back and the warmth of the Caribbean sun bathing my bare skin.  I hear a familiar voice beside me, that voice the embodiment of excitement and youthful, carefree abandon.  I hear the sounds of laughter and bliss.  I smell coconut and suntan oil and the aroma of happiness. 

 

A wave crashes over me and I find myself blindly searching for light in the darkness of the water.  I hear words, spitting betrayal and hostility.  I feel a hand slip from mine and the physical pain of heartbreak and disappointment makes me feel as if I am drowning.  Struggling to find my sense of direction, I fight back, desperate for the solace I know can be found just beyond the surface.  With every ounce of strength, I make my way upward, the feel of air rushing into my body a temporary reprieve.

 

My head is above the surface now, but I still feel as if my breath is caught in my throat.  There are butterflies in my stomach and the world begins to spin a bit as I try to understand the immense power of the moment.  I can see someone on the shoreline and miraculously, without effort, I feel myself being pulled toward the beauty of this companion on the beach.  I am so close that I can feel our breaths intermingling in the air, now cooled by an autumn breeze.  Reaching out, I feel our skin touch for a brief moment, and then the moment is gone.

 

I am on the shore alone now, my clothes too heavy for the fragility I feel in the wake of an inevitable separation.  I strip away the clothes, longing for relief from the burden of exhaustion my body is still holding.  But the discomfort persists and I feel as though the water has clogged every pore of my skin.  I can no longer feel the breeze or the sand.  I only feel confusion and regret at words left unspoken in that silent good-bye.

 

Gradually, I feel myself coming back alive.  The salty drops of ocean and tears have dried, leaving my skin with feelings of purity and newness.  I can see vibrant-colored cloths blowing in the wind and hear the tranquil sound of nature creating a haven around me.  I am no longer floating on the water’s surface, but instead sitting upon the polished deck of a boat.  The sultry air kisses my face and I realize I am heading Home.

dancing with angels...

The night was quiet, bathed in peaceful silence under a blanket of white.  The darkness was lit only by streetlights, those picture-perfect lamp posts of decades past casting yellow halos that skirted down to the river's edge.  In a city of mystery and anonymity, I exhaled, watching the visible puffs of air escape my body, entering a world filled with the unexpected.  In that moment, I forgot how to worry.  Drinking in gulps of the cold midnight wind, I witnessed a transformation.  Amidst magic and dreams, I felt the snowflakes catch in my eyelashes and tilted my head back to taste the sweetness of Nature's miracle.

Dancing in that empty, darkened street, I found a piece of myself that I thought had long since disappeared.  I felt the burning embers of courage rising within me, tiny sparks gathering strength until the full flame of my spirit soared above the lamp posts and the falling snow.  It was as if twenty years had vanished, erasing the lines and cracks etched upon the eyes and hearts of two grown women.  In that moment, we were two little girls, best friends from a time before we knew each other or the future that would lead us to that magical night when a winter wonderland was all our innocent eyes could see.  Clad in pajamas and winter coats, we claimed the night, the city, and the freshly fallen snow.  Laughter punctuated the silence, easing the physical and emotional pains of two hearts, each on their own path of healing. 

That night was not the beginning of a friendship, but it was the embodiment and discovery of another layer in a bond that already existed.  Hearts were set free that night and although the street appeared empty, I am certain there were many angels dancing with us among the beauty of those early morning hours.  Eventually, we left the snow behind in favor of warmth and sleep.  But the memories will never be left behind.  We carried those memories with us as we traveled onward, embracing a shared sense of feminine wildness.  Pushing beyond the limits of fear and expectations, we paved our own path on a pilgrimage of novel explorations.  And while our return home was inevitable, the memories and the gifts I found along our journey will always stay with me.

the pleasures of the unexpected...

It has been a long month, filled with excitement and exhaustion.  My travels have taken me through 12 states and Canada.  Down crowded, noisy freeways and along quiet, rural roads, I have felt the exhilirating thrill of adventure and the comforting solace of Nature's serenity.  With heightened senses, I have embraced the unique nuances of places to which I never imagined my journey might lead.  But my journey has been filled with the unexpected and I know that the future has yet to be determined. 

In the midst of unknown places and brief moments of exploration, I found more than just the means of reaching a destination.  I found courage to surpass my fears.  I found beauty in the unexpected.  I found kinship in the quiet moments and blissful enchantment in a world where magic lifted me from the realms of reality and sent me soaring to heights I never dared to dream. 

I found knowledge and history in the streets of Philadelphia and images of a simple life of quaint pleasures in the rolling hills of rural Pennsylvania.  In Massachusetts, I was beckoned by the silent call of the harbor.  Upstate New York welcomed me with a hospitality that rivaled all I've known and loved in the deep South.  In Florida, I expected to feel at home, surprised by the sense of detachment that accompanied a more familiar destination.  Through the southern beauty of Tennessee and Virginia, I learned to breathe again and to trust the direction of the road, as well as the direction of my body.  Maryland was a mixture of extremes, lulling me briefly before tossing me back upon a path of chaotic commotion.  In Kentucky, I danced in a midnight blizzard and found my heart once again opening to the passions of art and words.  And finally, I fell in love in West Virginia.  Surrounded by snow-capped mountains, I found pleasure walking down icy sidewalks of downtown streets and perusing books amongst the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.  In a restaurant painted in warmth and streaks of eccentricity, I savored the taste of organic food and vegetables fresher than anything that has ever touched my hungry lips.  And at last, at the top of a mountain, I let go of so much that has held me back in life.  I let go, embracing the snowy trail before me, cherishing the courage and promises I found in those moments of freedom and moonlit abandon.

Now, I sit here at home, in a place of familiarity and learned comforts.  But I am still holding those moments and all that I learned across the many miles of the past month.  I'm still falling in love, but this time, I'm learning to love myself, the world, and the pleasures of the unexpected.

nature's elements...

I fell asleep last night to the sound of a late autumn wind rushing through the treetops.  Even in its fierceness, the wind calmed me, eventually lulling me into a state of peaceful slumber.  Perhaps it was the kindred spirit I feel with nature that calmed me.  Mimicking the fierceness of my own soul, I felt understood and comforted by the companionship of Nature’s lullaby.  It is in moments such as this when I am reminded of how deeply connected I am to the earth and the natural elements of the world. 

 

Air…rushing through the treetops, in and out with my own breath.  In frenzied winds, I inhale and my own shallow breathing is brought to awareness.  In stillness, I stop for a moment and rest, my breathing slowed by Nature’s solace.  On mornings when the air is brisk and cold, I feel the sensations against me skin.  My soul awakens and I feel invigorated, alive, full of passion.  Spirited energy runs through my veins as the air kisses my eyelids, and I open my eyes to a world of vibrant dimensions.

 

Water…forceful waves ripping at the shoreline or the gentle flow of the river I pass above.  Undulating currents capture individual moments, swirling them into forms defined by emotion and depth.  Awestruck, I watch the river changing with the season’s passing and alterations in the atmosphere.  I feel the same flow within me, of constant change and unknown depths.  I stand at the edge of the world and feel the intensity of cyclical tidal patterns that know no beginning or end.

 

Earth…always present in various forms, sometimes crumbling between my fingers and other times strong and steady, holding the weight of me, and the world.  The desert, open in its vast expanse, barren and yet so full of possibility.  Mountains rising up, silhouettes framed on the horizon, obstacles to surpass, or maybe just climb to the top.  Green and fertile, birthing and rebirthing life and ideas, dreams held in the balance when the ground has frozen over.  But the freeze will inevitably end and life will be renewed with passion and vitality.

 

Fire…the very essence of heat, passion, burning beyond the orange flames tinged in blue halos.  Seeking warmth yet fearing heat’s power, I become mesmerized by the sight of the dancing flames.  Their dance, wild and uninhibited, full of glory and desire, blind and deaf to the warnings and expectations of the world.  I struggle against the notions of “good” versus “bad” and leap forward to dance with the simultaneous wildness and purity of the flames.

 

There are moments throughout life’s journey when I feel I have lost my way, when confusion or doubt or worry invade the corners of my existence and I become stuck, paralyzed in an analysis of my next step.  If only I could remember, each day, the parallels that exist between Nature’s elements and my own footsteps.  To relinquish that need for control and order and knowledge and simply allow myself to embrace each element, in each moment… of life, of Nature, of myself.

waiting...on uncertainty

The future always holds uncertainty.  Ironically, the only certainty of the future is the very presence of its inherent uncertainty.  And yet sometimes, as it has been in the recent months of my life, the uncertainties feel overwhelming.  I feel lost, as if I am wandering along a path on which the destination is completely unknown.  In trying to embrace the beauty of the journey itself, I find myself stumbling across the pebbled earth, greeted by towering boulders that seem impossible to surpass.  I am grateful for the moments in which I can still see the beauty of the world, but the beauty is captured in flashes of color and then the world once again turns to black and white. 

 

Nevertheless, it is those very moments of beauty that keep me stumbling forward.  It is the moments when I glimpse the morning mist rising, hovering over the river, the sun creating beams of light through golden leaves…moments like this when I am able to breathe again and feel the hope buried within all the uncertainties.  It is the moment, driving along a crowded street, leaves of red and amber blowing wildly in a windy dance of excitement…it is this moment when I feel the intensity of life blowing through my own veins as well.  These are the moments I have been living for, desperately seeking.  These are the moments when I feel courage burning in the very core of my soul and my spirit takes a momentary leap of faith. 

 

It is all the other moments that leave me breathless, confused, frightened by the presence of so many unknowns.  So many questions that have no “right” answers.  I was not prepared for so many unanswerable questions.  I did not anticipate these particular fears and uncertainties.  But here I am, and I suppose this is exactly where I’m meant to be right now.

 

Now is a time of waiting, a time when patience and faith are necessary.  While I cling tight to my faith, patience has never been a personal virtue.  Perhaps I will develop more patience by the time I reach a place of any answers.  In the meantime, I wait.  I wait to hear from the 20 internship sites to which I applied…wait to find out if I will be invited for an interview, wait to see where I might be moving in six months time.  I wait to hear from the doctor…wait to get results from all the tests and procedures, wait to find out if surgery is inevitable.  I wait to hear from potential adoptive parents for my precious pups…wait to find out if they will have a new home soon, wait while the grief of losing them envelops me.  And without any answers, I keep on waiting…

 

I hate the feeling of waiting, the sense of not knowing what is going to happen.  I hate that lost sense of control, as if I have little (or no) choice in the happenings of my life.  But I also hate the choices, at least right now.  As difficult as it can be to relinquish control, there are times when it feels even more difficult to bear the responsibility of making decisions.  And the essence of my fear lies in taking these leaps of faith, trusting myself, and making the choices that will have to be made in the months ahead.