I'm Yours

A little collage for today, view from the sofa

 Today is one of those soul days. All I want to do is day-dream and collage, take pictures, and delight in little beautiful things, (too bad I have so much homework, but a little blogging will suffice.)

It's strange being in this place between college and the beyond. I've been thrashing away at a dense jungle of thoughts: what do I want to do after this? What am I going to do with an art history degree? (Get a master's said the advisor. And then what, said I. Get your P.H.D. said he. Then what, said I. Compete for the job 800 other people want, came his reply, and inwardly I rolled my eyes.) First I was asking, What would be the most impressive thing I could do? But when that brought me no joy I asked, what would be the easiest thing to do? But that felt empty too. Then I asked, what would be the most authentic thing to do? And here, I got somewhere new. But still, another question begged to be posed. It was, what can I do for heaven?

Cello

So I have been sitting here, thinking about that in my favorite place. I like to look around the room and with my eyes, drink in inspiration. It's a little present--my revelation--and I'm opening it slowly. It can only be opened in sacredness. I cannot rush the process. Here I'm reminded of a poem a good friend shared with me by Martin Luther.

He wrote: This life therefore is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness, not health, but healing, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it, the process is not yet finished, but it is going on, this is not the end, but it is the road. All does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified.”

 Here I see "my growth." All I want to do these days is play the cello, take pictures, and be a mom.A baby to take care of that looks like my Marc...maybe with red hair...that's my wish, the wish I made on a dying dandelion at the end of summer. Lately when nannying I savor the cuddling after naps, the sweet little boy who throws his arms around my neck and likes to listen to me sing.

roses from my mom's garden

When I think of these dreams that I love, my insides sing too and I feel as light as cream. Maybe it's not enough, I tell myself. How do you expect to be able to stand alone? Where is the feminist in you? And part of me tries to stir her up, to make her want Harvard or the edge of the horizon. But the desire for that cannot be conjured. What has happened to me? I used to think success meant a prestigious school, a P.H.D, the Peace Corps. And I think it can still be found there too.

Maybe it's that I feel heaven inviting me to create home and family like a sun-soaked sofa would urge me over for a long, golden afternoon nap. It's a warm feeling and I want to say I'm yours. I'm yours. I'm yours. I'm yours with all of my heart.

white respites

How I love a cloudy, dreamy escape. My friend Kiirsten got married this weekend and she let me take home some roses. Don't you like putting flowers all over the house? My dream is to have garden after garden in my yard and quiet places carved out of all the beauty for resting and imagining.

Holy Places

A year ago Marc and I took a little trek up to holy Lake Mary--the place I had said I wanted to one day get engaged. There, we knelt down on a rock, and promised ourselves to eachother. Then he pulled out a little box and put a sparkling ring on my finger. This weekend we made our pilgramage back to the spot--this time equipped with snow shoes, a sled, and ten months of marriage under our belts. I've found in these last few months that our differences and our challenges are our "holy work." We climb rocks and leap over streams and then reach beautiful vistas together.

After Lake Mary, we went to another holy place. It's always bliss to walk into the temple. It's like striding through a wall of warm peace. Everyone whispers; there's no sense of time or rush. It's white and heavenly and you wear all white too. Marc always seems his most loving, grown up self there and I tease him that that's why we go.

My sister Olivia and her husband Skyler went with us and afterwards we went to the Dodo for tollhouse pie a la mode.

Love, sledding, pie, peace, and good friends.  What a day.

A Dream Come True

Ever since I saw the film "Sophie's Choice" back in high school, I have wanted to play the cello. Sophie made it look and sound so beautifully feminine, sensual, warm and deep.  Her instrument vibrated richly against her pregnant belly. Even before her baby would know her, he would associate her with those comforting, encompassing strains. Music has never been my strength but I feel so enthusiastic about this, I could burst. Earlier this week, I went and found a magnificent student cello for a great price and Marc and I picked it up this morning. Lessons start Tuesday! It's a dream come true. What's your dream?

Road Trip!!

Last weekend we drove down to California to stay with friends in Yosemite Valley. The beauty on the way stunned us; the journey was certainly spectacular: I enjoyed just talking to Marc, buying an ice cream cone from a gas station, laughing, and watching the sun hit the earth in golden glory.

 We hiked five miles for a breathtaking view of all of Yosemite's splendor.  We didn't even speak for a bit.

 Half dome.

 I just included this because I think he's handsome.

 Marc has always been in love with trees. So we went to see the Sequoias.

 Absolutely amazing.

Thank you Nate and Rosalyn for the great weekend!

my sister married the love of her life a week ago...

there is beauty all around

 

There is an inner and an outer beauty about today.

 Color and cheer play within and without. Seeing it all--that's the miracle.