bloomin'

There’s so much to say. Do you find that too? And then, when you have a chance to speak, or write, or think about these things, the things that, when you were busy, just seemed sooooo pressssssing, all that’s left is nothing.

And every time I try to start a blog, that happens. I’m bursting with thoughts and observations and things I’m annoyed at, things to treasure and celebrate, things to quietly rest in ecstasy about and I just can’t wait to share/talk/yell and then…gone. The problem is knowing people might, at some point (although it seems quite remote at the moment) read this. Even though you don’t know who I am and I don’t know who you are. It’s strange to share a part of oneself with others; it’s hard enough with people you know, at least on a surface level. I suppose it should be easier sending my words semi-anonymously into the universe, the blogosphere, the tangly interweb gluttonous with information, with a veil of secrecy and anonymity. It just isn’t! It just isn’t. I’ve had a similar experience posting videos to youtube. Just amateur, short videos of me and the guitar and my shaky voice covering some of my favorite songs. I try to fade the lighting, or angle the camera to the side, or obscure my voice to avoid any sort of recognition. I think it’s worked; but I still can’t post them. Perhaps that’s not the point though. Maybe the point is I’m doing it in the first place.

I’m often amazed at my city. Sometimes I pace the streets, smiling at people and appreciating their presence and the generations of work, families, hardship, birth and death, and human creativity that created the wonder I now live in, and I am simply amazed. People are capable of wonderful and destructive things. The breadth of human capacity to figure things out, explore and hypothesize and test and fail, and recover and do it again is, quite simply, unfathomable and breathtaking. It’s inspiring and defeating all at the same time. The weight of those who came before us and all their accomplishments and advancements, flouderings and mistakes and quagmires, is heavy.

See, maybe my writer’s block comes from the failure to really find a theme. Interestingly and perhaps ironically, that’s a common thread that runs through most of my life. I seem to bounce around, I seem to always be en route. Between places and people, goals and abilities, confidence and retreat. Feelings of having it figured it out and then realizing that as I get older, I seem to know less and less. At so many points during my day-to-day life I return to parts of the graduation speech purportedly written and given by Kurt Vonnegut, but actually written by a female reporter named Mary Scmich whose words were poached by a ‘prankster’ and distributed around attributed to Vonnegut (you can read the whole story here). Anyway, the speech packs so much wisdom into so few words, it impresses me every time I read it.

Here are a few of my favorite snippets:

“Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded.”

“Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.” (because I want to BE this!)

“Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.”

“Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.”

“Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.”

“Do one thing every day that scares you.”

It’s so simple, and yet elegant and beautiful and meaningful at the same time. It’s kind of advice; I mean, it is, I suppose. But it’s also just reiteration of common sense truths that I think strikes a lot of people because these truths are intuitive and universal, they transcend culture and generation and sex/class/race or any other difference we seek to put forward. For instance, we all know we should be wearing sunscreen, and that we should take care of our bodies, and that we should leave those who treat us badly and disrespect us. No one would argue those as falsehoods. And yet, for some reason, when I read that speech and hear those words, I feel calm. It makes me feel ok. And sometimes, all we need is just to feel ok (or, like that Ingrid Michaelson song, “keep breathing”). Amazing stuff, if you haven’t heard it.

Plus, I think the impetus to do something that scares us keeps us alive. It keeps our blood pumping and our brains thinking and our hearts feeling. It’s the what that makes life worth living – challenging ourselves to do things we prior wouldn’t believe we could do. And I suppose, ultimately, that’s why this blog was born: to be a friend to me through one of those times where I challenged myself to do something I was insanely scared to do. This summer I’ll be leaving my home in this wonderful city, saying goodbye to the love of my life, my very best friend (my Biff, as she says), and all of my plans and truths and sureties, to live in northern Thailand for 3 months while I complete a legal internship focusing on local public interest issues. I don’t speak Thai; I know not a soul. I feel free and light and scared and sad but I knew I had to do it from the moment I first heard of it. The universe opened up for me and illuminated this path, it showed me that this is what I am meant to be doing. I feel like someone just blew me off a dandelion, the ones you blow on after you make a wish to get all the little umbrella pods off so you know your wish will come true. That’s me. I am a that seed pod. Off I go.


I’m not ready to settle yet, I still have so much movement and exploration and learning to do. I suppose this is my effort to do something I’m afraid of, to keep my momentum up, and my heart full and open, and my wisdom blooming. I hope I can embrace this experience without denigrating my life back home or my time away. I’m worried that I can’t, but I’m willing to try.

So, it is here that I feel find solace on lonely nights and confused days, after troubling situations and sad observations, during the time I’ve carved out in which I will know only me. And you.