Revolution of Self

"The world is coming to an end, and the path towards a new beginning starts within you." Prince Ea

Interviewing My 7-Year-Old Niece

 Mackenzie:

"If the planet gets sick, we get sick.... If the planet dies, we die. The trees help us breathe."

"Animals being hurt makes me sad. Because they are special and part of this world."

We love, yet we destroy.

"We say we love flowers, yet we pluck them. We say we love trees, yet we cut them down. And people still wonder why some are afraid when told they are loved."

~Unknown Author

Explaining the Intangible

People are always trying to explain what love, friendship, and other intangible things are. How do you describe something you can't touch or see? How can you explain something the exists only because you feel that it exists? Feelings are so subjective and they cannot be compared from person to person (or can they?). I'm not sure, but maybe that's why I like quotes so much. They provide me with validation that someone else, somewhere has felt the same way that I have. 

My good friend Jody posted this quote as her facebook status the other day:

"Real friendship or love is not manufactured or achieved by an act of will or intention. Friendship is an act of recognition...two souls suddenly recognize each other. It could be a meeting on the street, or at a party...suddenly there is the flash of recognition.... There is an awakening between you, a sense of ancient knowing." ~ John O'Donohue

A quote by C.S. Lewis says “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'”

These quotes provide an interesting perspective on friendship/love. I'm intrigued that I can have the type of intense connection that both quotes discuss over and over again (to varying degrees), with different types of people. That "flash of recognition," the instance when I'm communicating with someone and I pick up on something they say (or something they don't say) that I can relate to on a deep level, is powerful, and fun, and worth reflecting on.

I used to form a lot of superficial relationships. Not on purpose, at least not on a conscious level. But, I was subconsciously drawn to people who didn't ask me too many questions about my life, because I wasn't yet ready to start answering questions. In the past few years, I've changed a lot. I've grown a lot. I've learned a lot. I'd like to think I've always been an inclusive, warm person, but I'm now more receptive to that "flash of recognition." I try to spend more time appreciating how much I can relate to other people, but I'm also encountering the next step (which corresponds with my last post) which is learning how to let people go. I'm working on valuing time spent and relationships built with people even if it is only for a short time.

"We only part to meet again."

I recently did an updated post, but it appears that it's not showing up now. I'm not quite sure how they just disappear, but I'll repost the entry I posted on my other blog.

This morning, at about 5am, I dropped my friends from Ecuador off at the airport in Norfolk, VA. I had some wonderful discussions with Maria and Liz on the drive up. Piece by piece, Liz, my co-pilot,  has told me a lot of her life story, which I greatly appreciate and value. Over the journey, everyone in the van eventually fell asleep. Liz even fell asleep with my GPS in her hands haha.

At the airport, Stephanie and I helped some of them shove their stuff into bags. They thought they were going to have to leave so much behind, but we just crammed their belongings in so tightly that we joked that their bags would explode (and I hope they don't). After they all checked in, they realized their flights were boarding and they hadn't even been through security. We parted ways in a rush. But, it was a very difficult "bye" (please note that I won't say "goodbye," because it's too permanent). But, Edda hugged me first and held on for a long time. She started to cry, and I tried to pull away. She held on longer. So I hugged back, tightly. It's so nice when you hug someone and you let go first, and they continue to hold on. I almost choked up and would have cried had it not been 5am (and I hadn't slept yet). Then, I went through and hugged each person; Liz, Maria, Victor, Fernanda, and Sandra. I hugged each of them tightly and told them how thankful I am for them, and that they'll be missed. As they walked away, I told them I love them, because I do. I love each of them, and have only known them a short, short time. I formed stronger connections with a select few, which is to be expected when we were all hanging out in a group of 10ish. As much as I'd love to have a strong connection with everyone, group settings aren't conducive to such things. But love, it is such a powerful, and painful feeling. It's terrifying not knowing when I'm going to see them again. It's terrifying knowing I can help create such a strong bond with people that live on a different continent. I knew all along they were leaving, and I continued to be attached. I had to remind myself that it's okay to love people who will leave. It's okay to enjoy my experiences with them though they will be finite. It's okay to be close to people, and to value that connection. I'm using this example to remind myself that I am able to connect with a variety of people, and this connection doesn't have to span a lifetime (though it'd be great if it did) to be of value in my life. I've learned a lot from these friends. I can value and appreciate the time that we did have, and the experiences that we shared. I can look back and smile and know that their trip to the U.S. was better because I was a part of it. And that, with time, will be such a good feeling... It's still so hard though. I've never been good at parting ways with people. But I'm learning.

Today, my heart is heavy, and it's difficult to move. I'm trying to embrace the wonderful times we've had together. Right now, I can't help but be reminded that the odds of me seeing any of those people ever again will drastically dwindle with time, and that kills me. I want so badly to take a trip to Ecuador.

"We only part to meet again." John Gay

Loss: As Viewed by Gail Caldwell (And Me)

Shortly after Christmas, I read Let's Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship by Gail Caldwell. A few months earlier, I had come across the book in a small book store in the outer banks of North Carolina. It was too expensive for me to buy at the time, but I sat down and read about 30 pages, instantly falling in love. I'm drawn to anything that attempts to express grief and/or loss as I experienced, but couldn't articulate, it/them.

You can't imagine the incomparable pain, the hopelessness, the relentless longing for what's lost, unless you've personally had someone very close pass away. You want the world to stop, because your world has stopped. But it doesn't, it keeps going, and it expects you to keep moving forward too.

Gail Caldwell expresses this really well:

"Mostly I couldn't bear... the paltry notion that memory was all that eternal life really meant, and I spent too much time wondering where people got the fortitude or delusion to keep on moving past the static dead."

I could easily relate to the next two quotes:

"Hope in the beginning feels like such a violation of the loss, and yet without it we couldn't survive."
— Gail Caldwell (Let's Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship)

"The real hell of this," he told her, "is that you're going to get through it."
 — Gail Caldwell (Let's Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship)

Not only do you want your entire world to stop, but you don't want it to ever start up again. If you feel how I felt (and I'm assuming Caldwell felt), it seems almost like a betrayal to move on and continue your life. As long as you're feeling that excruciating pain, the loved one is still an active part of who you are, a part of your life. The pain serves as a constant, stinging reminder that you haven't forgotten about them, you haven't started moving forward. But, recovery manages to sneak in no matter how hard you fight it. Hope slips in and at first it feels like you're violating your lost loved one. Just the thought of moving forward while loved one can't is an amazingly difficult concept to fathom. Nonetheless, hope exists so your world continues forward, even if it seems like that's the last thing you want. You'd otherwise stay stagnant, overwhelmed, and overcome....(which is tempting but unrealistic).

"Maybe this is the point: to embrace the core sadness of life without toppling headlong into it, or assuming it will define your days."
— Gail Caldwell (Let's Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship)

So, while we can never stop or really even prevent death (because inevitably everyone will die), we can find some comfort in who our loved one was to us. We can share how that person helped us become who we are and how beautiful that person was. "Memory was all that eternal life really meant"... and that person lives on through our memories of them and our outward expression of said memories. In the end, that's all we really can hold on to.

"I know now that we never get over great losses; we absorb them, and they carve us into different, often kinder, creatures."
— Gail Caldwell (Let's Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship)

"It's taken years for me to understand that dying doesn't end the story; it transforms it. Edits, rewrites, the blur, and epiphany of one-way dialogue. Most of us wander in and out of one another's lives until not death, but distance, does us part-- time and space and heart's weariness are the blander executioners of human connection."
— Gail Caldwell (Let's Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship)