Following Your Senses

What gets you further in life: common sense or a sense of adventure?

This is the type of question that sends me running around in circles within my mind. (Actually, I’m usually pacing a room muttering to myself, but that’s just weird.) Some may say that common sense only holds you back and prevents you from trying new and exciting things; that only with a sense of adventure will one stumble upon discovery. So while a sense of adventure might compel you to BASE jump off a cliff, common sense may keep your feet from going over the edge. But what discoveries lie in wait on an alternate route down? Maybe the real fear we need to overcome is that of turning back.

A sense of adventure will take you to all ends of the Earth, but common sense will keep you alive throughout the journey, and possibly even slow you down just enough to enjoy the sights along the way. So perhaps it is not one or the other: In order to live life to the fullest, maybe you need a little of both.

Learning to Sing

Sometimes I wonder why I think that waking up at 5:30 in the morning will somehow help me be more prepared for the day. As if any amount of worrying I can fit into the hour before I get up will benefit me in any way. Today, as I’m about to embark on something new, I'm asking myself similar questions. But I believe that it’s moments like these where it’s normal to stop and ask myself what I’m getting into. Or at least that’s where I found myself a few minutes ago.

“Oh my gosh, Emma. What are you doing?”

And I looked back on all the times that thought had crossed my mind. Some of those answers I’m not really proud of, other instances I wish I’d stopped a second to question further. But I’ve already lived those regrets.

So I ask myself another question. If that last part of my life, with all its mistakes, regrets, memories, and accomplishments, was finding my voice; where am I now? Where do I find myself at this start of something new, with the million little thoughts running through my mind, hands shaking, eyes looking ahead, brain always questioning, ears always listening? As I take this all in, I think I feel more than hear the answer: In this moment of doubt and worry and weakness, that’s where the next part begins. And that is where I am at this moment: quavering and uncertain, but learning to sing.

One Last Rose

“

Dreams may fade and wilt but  Hope springs eternal.                        ~ Alexander Pope

”

                                                                                               

One Last Rose

White petals,

like softly falling snow:

shroud summer's blossoming dreams.

A Stroke of Lightning

Wow. Every now and then you really need to marvel at the awe-inspiring phenomena that abound in this world. And sometimes it’s the incredible minutest of details, bringing them about, that cause me to wonder. Take lightning for example. I am sure many would agree that their power and intensity are something to be appreciated… or even feared. We find ourselves many-a-time amazed at their spectacle when, in fact, the true miracle is that they even strike at all. For, despite their high voltages, “a bolt of lightning is not nearly strong enough to overcome the insulating properties of air.”¹ Another factor needs to come into play- something that is not based on the lightning’s power alone; and for all the high-speed cameras that are continuously being improved, its cause remains elusive.  

This one missing piece: the spark that starts it all. It is an unknown beyond one’s comprehension- something we cannot see nor fully grasp. And that’s where the light shines greatest in lightning. For if these tiny, unseen details are already taken care of in this world, I wonder what changes are possible in me.

¹Johnson, George. "Chasing Lightning." National Geographic. August 2012: 106. 

The Normal Conundrum

I hate the word “normal”.  It can’t be defined and I think we just waste our time trying to reach its elusive and treacherous ideal. The desire to be ordinary is perhaps one of humanity’s greatest puzzles. And maybe “fitting” the pieces together isn’t the way to solve it.

Normal is what we think everyone else thinks is normal; there is no static definition of the word and, for that reason, it is an unattainable standard to wish to achieve. But we all strive for a sense of normalcy and, unfortunately, use it as a driving force in our lives. In our race to be like “everybody else”, we leave our true selves trampled behind us. It seems impossible to break free of this mindset because society impresses upon everyone at an early age a desire to please others at all cost. It’s as if we have been set up for failure.

In the end, we either have to assimilate and be like what we believe everyone else to be or find contentment in breaking apart and staying true to ourselves. The latter is not easy because we feel pressured by the world to merge with everyone else. However, theoretically speaking, if we truly accept ourselves for who we are, than the acceptance of everyone else shouldn’t matter at all. I don’t know of this is any more possible than reaching “normal’, but at least it’s a constructive concept for which to strive.

Building Walls

Too many people waste their time trying to be someone else. I wonder how many times we have walked into a room of pasted smiles and false laughter; where we find ourselves as mere spectres going about life, each ignorant in our own isolation. Somehow, we feel better when we are busy constructing barriers; thinking we are protecting ourselves by keeping others from catching a glimpse of the real person within. But problems arise from this self-deception.  Not expressing one’s true feelings only results in anger and resentment. Moreover, hiding our true selves is an exhausting undertaking and never really gives a sense of security.

As proven throughout history, walls are seldom able to maintain their purpose indefinitely. The Berlin Wall fell, the Great Wall of China, a symbol of power, still gave way to the Mongols and other invaders. In the same way, we build walls of false images and spend all our energy trying to sustain them. It is a fruitless effort for, in doing so, we miss out on much and forget what’s important; like loving others or having loyal friends and supportive families.

This begs the question of who are we really afraid of? For the walls will eventually fall and then with whom are we left? Surely not those we have blocked out.

These mental strongholds: We try to hide behind them but all we succeed in achieving is hiding from ourselves. For the real threat comes from within and no matter how many outer defenses we mount, they won’t shield us from the true person inside. And peace will only come through acceptance.

Saving Superman

-A short story-

My best memories of childhood always began with a hunt through the linen closet. I would be looking each time for the indispensable superhero necessities: a rag to fashion a cape- an old towel would do perfectly- and a strip of cloth for a mask. A few tucks here, a little adjusting there, a poor attempt at forming a knot and, voila, I became a caped hero, defending the world from the masked marauders of the night.

There was always that anticipation of dressing up, that delicious feeling of being someone else for a short period of time, where my reality would slip away and I could escape from the confines of my small, childhood world. In those fantasy-filled moments, I fully believed I had become one of them and that by defeating my imaginary villains, I was somehow protecting the world from the horrors that plagued it. As if by simply wearing a cape, I could take the burdens of the world upon my childish frame.

But I was young and my sheltered eyes had seen little of those horrors; my imagination unable to truly construct what held the world in bondage. My war was of a fun sort, where the good guys always won and vengeance always dealt without fail. When I look back upon that period of my existence, it is easy to laugh at the ignorance of my childhood innocence. Because to me then, the world was of a monochrome nature; where right and wrong were divided as clearly as day and night. Not at all like the hazy twilight where I find myself pondering such beliefs, now so many years in the future.

And what is it that I believe now? For the difference between adults and children is that we see the world through a different lens, so that we often reject what is right before our eyes: the pure, the innocent, all that is simple and good is lost in the shadows of cynicism. It is our inability to clearly distinguish the difference between night and day that sends us to the stumbling block of nations. Maybe if, for a moment, every leader of every country were to lower himself to the eye level of a five-year-old, the world would be a better place. But these are most likely the mad ramblings of a delusional dreamer.

So is that why today I once again yearn to see things through the over-simplified worldview of youth? It’s morning once more and I’m looking out the window. I hear laughter and soon see a boy appear from behind the house across the street. He is wearing a mask, his eyes peering out from its exaggerated features. I’m trying to discern whose face he is hiding behind, almost frantically now because I think I already know. He is running and jumping, twirling and bouncing through the sun-dappled morning. And suddenly- might it be because of the angle of the sun?- I can see it clearly. For here I am, in a cape once more, but trying to save superman.

In the Peace of Dormant Day

Sunday, July 29, 6:15 am

I thought I was going to get to see the sun rise this morning. There was a brief moment when all was calm and the sky was streaked with red. The whole world was filled with anticipation it seemed; and I was part of it.  But then the clouds came and covered the small, wavering rays of the new day. This happened slowly, the clouds creeping over the horizon so that I didn’t notice it right away. Now two birds are bickering outside. The moment of peace has passed and all is beginning to awaken with a clatter to the hectic realism of life. There’s always tomorrow I suppose. Maybe then I’ll be able to hold on to the ever-seeking sun for a moment longer.

This is what I saw. It is also how I felt.

Inner Beasts

In everyone there is a beast trying to get out.

Like poison;

Paralyzing inner spirit,

it attacks: A roaring, clawing manticore,

composed of lies and anger and pain.

I tried to tame it by myself.

But the only one I was fooling was me.

Sunny with a CHANCE of Rain (Or Why I Shouldn't Worry)

Some days the weatherman should look out the window. That’s what many of us may say to ourselves on the mornings when we hear their chipper voices advise that we might want to bring out an umbrella if we plan to venture forth, only to peer through the curtains and be greeted with a bright, cloudless day. Sometimes it seems they get it wrong more often than right. How many times have we been promised a big snow storm, dreaming of a snow day, and then wake up the next morning to a pitiful dusting of flurries? Or have a perfect beach day, all planned ahead of time, be ruined by a torrential downpour? But I would never blame a meteorologist. You can study data and make predictions for all you’re worth but it never guarantees a perfect forecast. It’s just a fact of life.

 I think many people’s biggest problem, myself included, is that we try too hard to see what’s ahead. We want some assurance that we’ll be prepared for what’s to come.  That’s why we worry and try to plan for the unknown. But it would never do to carry our “umbrellas” with us everywhere we go. Trying to predict what happens next only holds us back and weighs us down. It clouds our vision so to speak. If we are too intent on figuring out the forecast for our own life, we miss the beautiful day that is right in front of us.

A Matter of Perspective

When one thinks of Earth’s surface, with its jagged mountains, deep valleys, rifts, and canyons, the word ‘smooth’ hardly comes to mind. Instead, one might find "rugged and imperfect" as a more fitting description. And yet, the surface of planet Earth is proportionally smoother than a billiard ball.1 Surprising is it not? It just depends on your perspective.

Now apply the same perspective to life. Suddenly, all the things that we think define us, such as marks, talents, wealth, appearance, and popularity, matter little in proportion to the grand scheme of things. Once more, it all depends on how you look at it. For if the surface of Earth, with all its imperfections, can be viewed by our limited vision as a perfect, even sphere, how then are we viewed, with all our imperfections, through the eyes of the One whose perspective is infinite?

1 http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/badastronomy/2008/09/08/ten-things-you-dont-know-about-the-earth/#.WY_cqFF97IU

Lost Voices

By the next century, nearly half the world’s languages will die. This unfortunate truth speaks volumes about the way humanity values the wealth of knowledge culminated by its ancestors. To put it bluntly, we are willing to leave behind much of what was passed down through countless generations in the name of progress.

Every fourteen days, a language dies. Every two weeks, the voices of a multitude of memories, traditions and lessons are silenced in favour of the more hectic languages of English, Spanish and Mandarin. In a world that is already so skilled at quieting minorities, it appears language is yet another victim of our rush to assimilate and move on.  And it’s a real shame.  For there is wisdom in the words of one’s ancestors, and many phrases, proverbs and expressions are simply lost in translation.

Already many peoples’ native tongues are being decimated to feeble whispers and, by removing one’s language, the foundations of many cultures are beginning to crumble. I see it from this perspective:  When we drop a language, we lose much more than mere sounds and written letters; there is a lot that will cease to exist. For how many lessons learned will be forgotten?  How many songs will never be sung again?  Will the traditions and memories of a myriad of voices be drowned out by those that come in to replace them? That’s up to us to determine.

Some words are loudest at a whisper. But we must quiet ourselves if we are to learn from them.

This post was written in response to the article Vanishing Voices by Russ Rymer in July's issue of National Geographic.

In Stormy Weather

“

Some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.

”

                                                                                                ~ Willa Carter

The rain will often give more than just a slick, cold slap in the face. It offers short moments to ponder and quick glimpses of peace in the most surprising of circumstances. There is something about being out in a storm; sort of like standing against everything life throws at you. Sometimes I’ll go out in a good rainstorm and laugh in its face. For a fleeting moment, I’m almost content. The winds may be roaring, lightning flashing and the rain falling in torrents around me, and yet, it’s during those most chaotic moments that I feel at peace. In some way, nature understands. It’s like my mind is in turmoil but I don’t have to articulate anything. It just is and, for the moment, that is enough.  

Or at least that’s what I’m learning.

Wishes upon Hardened Sand

Today the beach offered one of Life’s great mysteries. What if we could write the burdens of our hearts upon the sand and watch the waves wash them away? Would we then be satisfied? Or would they just be buried, waiting to be rediscovered? Regrets, half-debts and unrealized dreams:  sometimes they seem to number more than the grains that make up the ocean’s shore. I’d gouge the words into the packed, damp granules, digging them deep. It would be a never-ending task, one that would threaten to consume us like any hope etched on windswept landscapes. For here we are, chasing illusive breakers, hoping to quench humanity’s thirst for redemption. And how many people are just sitting, waiting for the waves to roll in?

But true peace is found in still waters.  

A Busy Street After Rainfall

A busy street after rainfall:

Cars creating mist as they rumble through puddles.

Busy people oblivious to all that surrounds them,

Focussed on work, traffic and their impatience.

The city: a whirl of shouting, honking, rushing, and anger. 

A lone raindrop on an office window,

Struggling to remain rooted,

Drooping with the weight of its burden.

Agonizingly, it begins to

                                                drip

                                                                down

                                                                                the window pane

until it reaches the sill.

There it finally stops and clings. 

Seconds, so precious to some,

Wished away by the impatient ones.

Traffic         jerks                to            a              halt.

With a final gasp, the raindrop lets go.

A small splash on wet pavement.

Un-noticed by the busy street after rainfall.

(I'm sort of cheating here as this was written in July of 2010)