There are days when life is cold
no matter the heat outside
days when life is sickening
no matter the taste
days when life is desert-parched
no matter how long you linger at oases
There are days when the music plays
and never once do you feel like dancing;
when the neat pictures on the wall
seem slanted;
when the rain falls and doesn't wash away
the exhaustion
in your eyes
or the copper taste
on your tongue
or the flames
in your skin
or the broken glass case
around your heart;
days when life is crushing
no matter your armor
or the walls you have built in desperation
and you think of surrender
and it seems like you might fall
before sleep flutters forth
on angel-wings
and you fly away
in dreams of
greater things
floating
to another
tomorrow
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Memories, Stories, Lives, and Years
Today I woke up tired (aka after a sleepover). I went to visit the Museum of Fine Arts with my friend and every time I heard the date, I knew there was something I should be remembering.
And when I came home, I realized.
A year ago today, I came back to America from Israel.
That's it, now it's been more than a year, more distance between me and that past. I don't know why the concept of the year is so significant to me in this respect. I don't know.
Part of me is a little bit sad. Part of me is just confused. It's odd - I gave my friend a notebook of mine to read, a notebook that included a chronology of the last months in Israel, and I haven't read it in a while, and I don't remember much from that part. Time goes by and I don't remember.
But looking back, perhaps Israel's changes were just as great in magnitude as the changes I went through this past year. A lot happened. I just - yeah. It's been a really weirdly crazy and wonderful year.
Really, I suppose I shouldn't try to attach additional meaning to certain parts of my life, because all of it is important. And sometimes I wonder - what if the events I don't remember too well affected me more than the times that are replayed in my mind?
A life, in my not-so-long experience, is like matter. Comprised of tiny bits that can be dissected into even smaller and smaller ones - and mostly empty space. The space between the molecules, the atoms, the hadrons, the quarks. And that space is important. It's what makes the matter hold its shape, what defines it. Because really, matter is just an exception to the vacuum (it goes the other way too - the vacuum is an exception to matter). A life is not just the memories. A life is all the spaces in between too. All the short, sweet moments saved deep inside a mind and all the stories.
We are little bits of improbability, floating in space, wanting understanding. I am not one to say what is or isn't in the spaces between. Perhaps it's things I don't believe in. I don't know. But that's what I try to find out.
And when I came home, I realized.
A year ago today, I came back to America from Israel.
That's it, now it's been more than a year, more distance between me and that past. I don't know why the concept of the year is so significant to me in this respect. I don't know.
Part of me is a little bit sad. Part of me is just confused. It's odd - I gave my friend a notebook of mine to read, a notebook that included a chronology of the last months in Israel, and I haven't read it in a while, and I don't remember much from that part. Time goes by and I don't remember.
But looking back, perhaps Israel's changes were just as great in magnitude as the changes I went through this past year. A lot happened. I just - yeah. It's been a really weirdly crazy and wonderful year.
Really, I suppose I shouldn't try to attach additional meaning to certain parts of my life, because all of it is important. And sometimes I wonder - what if the events I don't remember too well affected me more than the times that are replayed in my mind?
A life, in my not-so-long experience, is like matter. Comprised of tiny bits that can be dissected into even smaller and smaller ones - and mostly empty space. The space between the molecules, the atoms, the hadrons, the quarks. And that space is important. It's what makes the matter hold its shape, what defines it. Because really, matter is just an exception to the vacuum (it goes the other way too - the vacuum is an exception to matter). A life is not just the memories. A life is all the spaces in between too. All the short, sweet moments saved deep inside a mind and all the stories.
We are little bits of improbability, floating in space, wanting understanding. I am not one to say what is or isn't in the spaces between. Perhaps it's things I don't believe in. I don't know. But that's what I try to find out.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Wish Tree
On Saturdays there is nothing much to do in Tel Aviv, because it's all closed. So this past Saturday we went to the port of Jaffa.
Jaffa's port is relatively active in terms of boats coming in and out. It also has several restaurants, galleries, and a posh indoor market. And interesting graffiti.
Anyway, there was one gallery, in which there were Instagram pictures by residents of Tel Aviv-Jaffa. Those were actually pretty cool.
In the corner, there was a small tree (or a large bush, I'm not sure). A lot of little notes were pinned to the branches, and according to a nearby sign, it was a wishing tree.
I approached the tree and began reading wishes.
"Love"
"True love"
"One who will really love me"
(I am reminded of this quote by Hank Green: "We are all differently broken, semi-functional, rusted-out love machines.")
"Happiness"
"A good year"
"A good life"
"Health"
"Joy"
As I peered between the branches, I was struck by the similarity. People put down their basest wishes, and thats ultimately the same for humans.
I don't know what I would put down. I wish so many things. Narcissistic things and world things. I wish I were better at doing just about everything. But I guess everyone wishes that. So many wishes - which would I write? Maybe that's why others put down their simplest wishes - it's too hard to decide on the complicated ones.
Finally, I came across a blank note, pinned among the written ones. I don't know whether or not it was a mistake, but there was something so true about it. An unused sheet of white paper is a fresh start - a clean slate, if you will. I think that's what we all want, and possibly what we all need.
After looking at the final wall of pictures, I followed my family outside, under the white sky, blank as a fresh sheet of paper.
Jaffa's port is relatively active in terms of boats coming in and out. It also has several restaurants, galleries, and a posh indoor market. And interesting graffiti.
Anyway, there was one gallery, in which there were Instagram pictures by residents of Tel Aviv-Jaffa. Those were actually pretty cool.
In the corner, there was a small tree (or a large bush, I'm not sure). A lot of little notes were pinned to the branches, and according to a nearby sign, it was a wishing tree.
I approached the tree and began reading wishes.
"Love"
"True love"
"One who will really love me"
(I am reminded of this quote by Hank Green: "We are all differently broken, semi-functional, rusted-out love machines.")
"Happiness"
"A good year"
"A good life"
"Health"
"Joy"
As I peered between the branches, I was struck by the similarity. People put down their basest wishes, and thats ultimately the same for humans.
I don't know what I would put down. I wish so many things. Narcissistic things and world things. I wish I were better at doing just about everything. But I guess everyone wishes that. So many wishes - which would I write? Maybe that's why others put down their simplest wishes - it's too hard to decide on the complicated ones.
Finally, I came across a blank note, pinned among the written ones. I don't know whether or not it was a mistake, but there was something so true about it. An unused sheet of white paper is a fresh start - a clean slate, if you will. I think that's what we all want, and possibly what we all need.
After looking at the final wall of pictures, I followed my family outside, under the white sky, blank as a fresh sheet of paper.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
One Year
Yep.
I realized today that it's been exactly one year since I went to Israel for six months. Which I now classify as one of the hardest, but ultimately one of the best, experiences of my life.
I really do think I changed immensely in Israel. I became aware of the strangeness of my life, the differences between cultures and languages, and the benefits of free time. I also learned enormous amounts about myself and my relationships with other people, and how much things can feel amazing or horrible, and how much things can change with a difference in outlook.
There is a quote from the declamation piece I am doing (it's J. K. Rowling's Harvard commencement speech from 2008) that goes as follows: "You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity." I think that really embodies what I learned: even as I moved away, my friendships remained. As time went on, of course, I forgot a little who they really were, but I came back and we were still friends, for all that each of us had changed. "Such knowledge," JKR continues, "is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won." Yes, it hurt like hell, leaving here. Yes, I suffered enormously at times. Yes, there were times when I was going practically insane. But I learned so much. About myself, about others, about the world. Different places really change how you think and feel. I really believe that, even if I don't seem to have changed so much, I am a different girl than the one who embarked on the most terrifying journey of her life one year ago, in many respects.
I think this change was part of what allowed me to be happy. I could not be fully happy in Israel because I was always missing the other half of me, the one from America. But when I came back I realized I would always miss some part of myself, and I have always lived in want of another place or another time. But the time is now, and I have decided to be happy, because it is good for me. That is another thing I learned in Israel: if you accept what you have, it becomes much better. I was sad and depressed and moping at first there, then I decided to like what I could like and see what would happen. I suddenly became much better friends with several people. I started talking. I started having more fun.
Though I have often been sad and confused about this, and no doubt will be again, I think that it was ultimately one of the best things I've ever done. For myself, for those around me, for my outlook. That's not to say I will do it again, because it was very difficult and I don't think I could. But as long as I live I think I will keep telling this story. Now I just have to find the next one.
I realized today that it's been exactly one year since I went to Israel for six months. Which I now classify as one of the hardest, but ultimately one of the best, experiences of my life.
I really do think I changed immensely in Israel. I became aware of the strangeness of my life, the differences between cultures and languages, and the benefits of free time. I also learned enormous amounts about myself and my relationships with other people, and how much things can feel amazing or horrible, and how much things can change with a difference in outlook.
There is a quote from the declamation piece I am doing (it's J. K. Rowling's Harvard commencement speech from 2008) that goes as follows: "You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity." I think that really embodies what I learned: even as I moved away, my friendships remained. As time went on, of course, I forgot a little who they really were, but I came back and we were still friends, for all that each of us had changed. "Such knowledge," JKR continues, "is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won." Yes, it hurt like hell, leaving here. Yes, I suffered enormously at times. Yes, there were times when I was going practically insane. But I learned so much. About myself, about others, about the world. Different places really change how you think and feel. I really believe that, even if I don't seem to have changed so much, I am a different girl than the one who embarked on the most terrifying journey of her life one year ago, in many respects.
I think this change was part of what allowed me to be happy. I could not be fully happy in Israel because I was always missing the other half of me, the one from America. But when I came back I realized I would always miss some part of myself, and I have always lived in want of another place or another time. But the time is now, and I have decided to be happy, because it is good for me. That is another thing I learned in Israel: if you accept what you have, it becomes much better. I was sad and depressed and moping at first there, then I decided to like what I could like and see what would happen. I suddenly became much better friends with several people. I started talking. I started having more fun.
Though I have often been sad and confused about this, and no doubt will be again, I think that it was ultimately one of the best things I've ever done. For myself, for those around me, for my outlook. That's not to say I will do it again, because it was very difficult and I don't think I could. But as long as I live I think I will keep telling this story. Now I just have to find the next one.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Awesomeness of Life
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I think my life is awesome.
I'm really happy with where I am today, right now. Before Thanksgiving, at high school, maybe not exactly at the perfectly ideal balance between what I like to do, what I need to do, and what is good for me, but pretty close. I have textbooks I can read so I can learn more about our vast universe. I have a speech cutting to do so that I can share the beauty of speaking with the world. I have friends. I have a girlfriend. I love the people I know. I have a vacation coming up. I can do what I like.
And who knows, maybe tomorrow I won't like where I am. But today, I really like it. And really, I'm happy with where I am now, it's just the future that sometimes distorts my view.
I've decided that I will stay in the school I am now, because I like the people and I like the freedom and I like being able to find out random things from other people's textbooks and I like theater and I like speech and I like having not too much ballet and I like being able to read books that aren't assigned to me and I like being able to choose to read old classical literature and I like writing essays of my choice and I like getting the best grades in the class (sorry, that is a bit conceited, but I am arrogant, so oh well). The uncertainty of schools was making me really unhappy, so I have decided, and I am taking the path which will cause me less stress and cause my friends less pain, even if I will not study Latin in school or read endless amounts of ancient Greek literature. I am happy. And I am here.
I'm really happy with where I am today, right now. Before Thanksgiving, at high school, maybe not exactly at the perfectly ideal balance between what I like to do, what I need to do, and what is good for me, but pretty close. I have textbooks I can read so I can learn more about our vast universe. I have a speech cutting to do so that I can share the beauty of speaking with the world. I have friends. I have a girlfriend. I love the people I know. I have a vacation coming up. I can do what I like.
And who knows, maybe tomorrow I won't like where I am. But today, I really like it. And really, I'm happy with where I am now, it's just the future that sometimes distorts my view.
I've decided that I will stay in the school I am now, because I like the people and I like the freedom and I like being able to find out random things from other people's textbooks and I like theater and I like speech and I like having not too much ballet and I like being able to read books that aren't assigned to me and I like being able to choose to read old classical literature and I like writing essays of my choice and I like getting the best grades in the class (sorry, that is a bit conceited, but I am arrogant, so oh well). The uncertainty of schools was making me really unhappy, so I have decided, and I am taking the path which will cause me less stress and cause my friends less pain, even if I will not study Latin in school or read endless amounts of ancient Greek literature. I am happy. And I am here.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Things you like to do
I heard somewhere that you can choose what you do, but you can't choose what you like to do.
This may be obvious to some, but to me it was an entirely new idea. For a long time I'd had these love-hate relationships with things in my life such as music and dance. Many people love them, but I didn't. I thought if I worked hard at them, I would love them. But no. There are some things I simply don't like. It was kind of hard for me to accept that.
Because my whole life I'd felt like there were things I should like and things I shouldn't, based on what other people liked or didn't. There are things that are hard to let go of. It was just as hard as letting go of a façade or breaking a tradition I'd had for my whole life. It's difficult, but after that it feels like things suddenly got easier.
This may be obvious to some, but to me it was an entirely new idea. For a long time I'd had these love-hate relationships with things in my life such as music and dance. Many people love them, but I didn't. I thought if I worked hard at them, I would love them. But no. There are some things I simply don't like. It was kind of hard for me to accept that.
Because my whole life I'd felt like there were things I should like and things I shouldn't, based on what other people liked or didn't. There are things that are hard to let go of. It was just as hard as letting go of a façade or breaking a tradition I'd had for my whole life. It's difficult, but after that it feels like things suddenly got easier.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Life, the Universe, and Everything
1: Let's start our being animals club meeting! I'm gonna be a monkey!
2: I'm gonna be an...elephant!
3: And I'm gonna be a lioness! Look at mah hair glow like a lioness, I'm so scary! You're scared of me, you're scared of me! Rarr!
1: It's gonna be hard to drive like this. I'm a monkey, I'm a monkey! Look! Bananas! Let's veer off the road and attack them!
3: Look at me, I'm scary! Rarr, rarr, I'm scary! Aw yeah, you are so scared!
---
1: You're ruining the innocence! So young! So young!
2: It's a chair!
1: It can't say no, how does that make you feel, huh, the chair can't say no! It doesn't have a choice!
---
1: Want to have a look at my toenail collection?
---
1: I have a seizure every time anyone says "um." * seizure *
---
1: My pet turtle died and you're laughing! You're not supposed to laugh at that!
2: Well, you have to admit, it is a funny story...
1: How can you SAY that?!
2: Um, your friend fed it sulfuric acid instead of water! That just doesn't happen!
---
1: I'M TERRIFIED OF SHOES! AHHHH!
---
Girl: You know that time when...umm...we were at your house and your brother was there?
Boy: Um, um...yeah?
Girl: I, well, I, um, may or may not have made out with him...
Boy: ...
Boy: You're SIX YEARS OLD!
Girl: He started it!
---
You see, my friends, I have found the answer to life, the universe, and everything. It is not forty-two, oh no. The answer is - get ready for it - IMPROV.
Why is anyone impersonating animals? Improv. Why did someone's friend feed a turtle sulfuric acid? Improv. Why did a six-year-old make out with someone? Improv...or something really, REALLY, wrong.
2: I'm gonna be an...elephant!
3: And I'm gonna be a lioness! Look at mah hair glow like a lioness, I'm so scary! You're scared of me, you're scared of me! Rarr!
1: It's gonna be hard to drive like this. I'm a monkey, I'm a monkey! Look! Bananas! Let's veer off the road and attack them!
3: Look at me, I'm scary! Rarr, rarr, I'm scary! Aw yeah, you are so scared!
---
1: You're ruining the innocence! So young! So young!
2: It's a chair!
1: It can't say no, how does that make you feel, huh, the chair can't say no! It doesn't have a choice!
---
1: Want to have a look at my toenail collection?
---
1: I have a seizure every time anyone says "um." * seizure *
---
1: My pet turtle died and you're laughing! You're not supposed to laugh at that!
2: Well, you have to admit, it is a funny story...
1: How can you SAY that?!
2: Um, your friend fed it sulfuric acid instead of water! That just doesn't happen!
---
1: I'M TERRIFIED OF SHOES! AHHHH!
---
Girl: You know that time when...umm...we were at your house and your brother was there?
Boy: Um, um...yeah?
Girl: I, well, I, um, may or may not have made out with him...
Boy: ...
Boy: You're SIX YEARS OLD!
Girl: He started it!
---
You see, my friends, I have found the answer to life, the universe, and everything. It is not forty-two, oh no. The answer is - get ready for it - IMPROV.
Why is anyone impersonating animals? Improv. Why did someone's friend feed a turtle sulfuric acid? Improv. Why did a six-year-old make out with someone? Improv...or something really, REALLY, wrong.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Impossible Life
We went out for dinner (our excuse was that I have finally done my placement test and have most of my schedule for the coming year sorted out) - it was an Ethiopian/Eritrean restaurant. The food was delicious; we ate it by picking it up with pieces of pancake-like bread. It's fun to eat with your hands and have it be proper.
The restaurant is in Cambridge, around the area where we lived until I was about five or six. It's a little strange being around there because I feel a strange familiarity, yet also a disconnect - it's the first place I knew, but I don't really know it as well anymore. Almost like déjà-vu. I know the way the streets connect but I no longer know the contents. I know the skeleton, but not the sinew.
And as we stepped out of the little, low-lit restaurant, my world was full of impossibles: the air was impossibly muggy; the lights of Mass Ave impossibly bright; the crescent-but-fading-to-gibbous moon looking impossibly close; the sky impossibly, deeply blue, as it is when twilight begins fading to night; parts of the place, like the grass in front of City Hall and the Post Office, impossibly familiar, so familiar that it's like I never left, and yet so many places so impossibly different and strange.
Suddenly I was struck by the impossibility of my world; the infinite paths that could have been taken. The precariousness of everything. It is all impossible. As the Doctor says, we're all stories. "We're all stories in the end." That's how impossible we are.
The restaurant is in Cambridge, around the area where we lived until I was about five or six. It's a little strange being around there because I feel a strange familiarity, yet also a disconnect - it's the first place I knew, but I don't really know it as well anymore. Almost like déjà-vu. I know the way the streets connect but I no longer know the contents. I know the skeleton, but not the sinew.
And as we stepped out of the little, low-lit restaurant, my world was full of impossibles: the air was impossibly muggy; the lights of Mass Ave impossibly bright; the crescent-but-fading-to-gibbous moon looking impossibly close; the sky impossibly, deeply blue, as it is when twilight begins fading to night; parts of the place, like the grass in front of City Hall and the Post Office, impossibly familiar, so familiar that it's like I never left, and yet so many places so impossibly different and strange.
Suddenly I was struck by the impossibility of my world; the infinite paths that could have been taken. The precariousness of everything. It is all impossible. As the Doctor says, we're all stories. "We're all stories in the end." That's how impossible we are.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Life is Long
It has not yet been a month since I left Israel.
Needless to say, it feels like forever.
Just over a month ago I was still in school. In this way of seeing things, a year seems so very long. Heck, a day is a long time. And six months? Well, that's damn long too.
It makes me wonder: what can I do with all this time? There's school and someday a job and everything, but there's always more. Extra hours. They're wasted so easily.
But we are so focused on the future that we don't think of now. Obviously you've got to plan some things, otherwise nothing would happen at all, but what about now? Often I forget about the now. Oh, in so many minutes or hours or days or months such and such is happening, but something is also happening now.
There will never be a moment again like this moment. That's what spurs me to do stuff.
Needless to say, it feels like forever.
Just over a month ago I was still in school. In this way of seeing things, a year seems so very long. Heck, a day is a long time. And six months? Well, that's damn long too.
It makes me wonder: what can I do with all this time? There's school and someday a job and everything, but there's always more. Extra hours. They're wasted so easily.
But we are so focused on the future that we don't think of now. Obviously you've got to plan some things, otherwise nothing would happen at all, but what about now? Often I forget about the now. Oh, in so many minutes or hours or days or months such and such is happening, but something is also happening now.
There will never be a moment again like this moment. That's what spurs me to do stuff.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Sluttish Time
(No, I didn't invent the title, it's from Shakespeare's Sonnet fifty-five.)
Today I realized that on Tuesday it will be two weeks until I'm gone.
Shakespeare was right on for a lot of stuff. Including about time and "all the world's a stage" and things.
Time is making me confused. The passing of time is a strange thing. What is time? I don't think there's a definition. If time is a collection of seconds and minutes and hours, what are seconds and minutes and hours? They are ways of measuring time. And time is...well, you get the idea. Chicken and the egg kind of thing.
And so suddenly I've got three days left of school and I'm getting my report card soon and my uncle is arriving from New York and it's officially going to be summer on Thursday and I have to say goodbye to my friends here.
My life is bonkers. But then, it always was.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Silence and the End of Some Things
Ballet teachers will yell, some more than others. It is simply a fact of life.
However, today my teacher lost her voice. The class was literally silent between exercises. No one spoke at all. We communicated via hand gestures.
It's strange, but when someone in the room doesn't speak and uses hand gestures to communicate, we often feel the need to stay quiet. And today, there was no yelling, and barely any speaking. Just music and concentration. I came out of the class feeling relaxed and with a huge grin on my face. There's nothing like silence to help you get centered. It was almost like yoga.
---
Earlier today, I had my last geometry class of the year. And as usual, I was being loud and calling out and screaming answers. Of course, my math genius friend got everything first, but I got it shortly afterwards. Then, the teacher handed out the class placements for next year. If I were to stay, I'd still be in the highest math class - א'1 or I guess A1. You see? Calling out does pay.
---
I think I'm going to watch an episode of Doctor Who now and eat some ice cream. What a wonderful evening.
(By the way, see The Vampires of Venice - Season 5 Ep 6 – as well as The Big Bang - Season 5 Ep 13 – for the Doctor Who reference in the title.)
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Happy Earth Day!
Even though I have done absolutely nothing towards being more eco-friendly or conserving energy.
Our planet is beautiful and wonderful. Life occurred by chance, but not entirely - our planet had the right conditions and has supported us until today. We really should give it more credit.
So here's me, saying HURRAH for Planet Earth. That's why we're better than the rest of the planets. We get to observe. We get to think. We get to live.
Our planet is beautiful and wonderful. Life occurred by chance, but not entirely - our planet had the right conditions and has supported us until today. We really should give it more credit.
So here's me, saying HURRAH for Planet Earth. That's why we're better than the rest of the planets. We get to observe. We get to think. We get to live.
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