"Look at me and tell me who I am, why I am, what I am..."

Well hello internetland! Long time, no see.

I started this blog when I left for grad school in Ireland 8 YEARS AGO!! I had big dreams for what that would mean, what this space would look like, and the person that I would become.

The song (quoted as the title of this post) from the musical "Jekyll and Hyde" (don't judge me, Broadway shows are the work of our Lord Jesus), has always been the song I return to and belt in self-evaluation. So here I am again, asking the big questions.

Like all big dreams, with hefty expectations attached, things did not turn out anything like I had planned. The deepest reality of this exists in the space since I have returned to the United States and existed in a liminal space of wanting to become "something"--an ideal self--and not really meeting with that reality.

But looking back on the time since I have returned, or even reflecting on the time that I existed in Ireland, a lot of big, hard, beautiful life things have happened that have completely changed my perspective. So sitting here, in Portland, Oregon on a Saturday night, at the end of my Sabbath (a practice I have begun consistently since existing here--more on that later), at the ripe, old age of 35, I am unashamedly proud of the person that I have become even if, in the narrative of the world I live in, I should not be proud.

What has happened in this time, you ask?

• Ramon Viduarri, a dear friend, who held more significance than I can express, died of brain cancer while I was in Ireland. --relational healing tied to this came with my return from Dublin.
• I moved back to California, but San Luis Obispo this time, and I became a bookseller, then a manager at Barnes and Noble.
• My dad died. Trauma. Pain. Facing down the demons of a terrible and unresolved relationship with a difficult man still continues...
• I moved to Portland, Oregon.
• I left Barnes and Noble to try my hand at the Tech Industry...spoiler alert, it did not go well.
• I left a tumultuous living situation to exist in a new space with my doppleganger who was now married. Growth, change, newness ensued.
• I got a job at Powell's City of Books--a dream.
• I fought, and learned, and grew, and cried, and broke down, and struggled, and earned a Master's Degree in education. I am now credentialed to teach High School English.
• I worked as a substitute teacher.
• I had a mental breakdown and experienced paralysis in the face of HOW HARD TEACHING IS! There is a lot to say about this. This is not a job for the faint of heart!
• I jumped into a new church community focused on the practice of the spiritual disciplines or practices--something I have been desperately seeking. 
• I found community and connection in a faith space that I have been looking for since leaving Rock Harbor Fullerton to head to Ireland. 
• I woke up to the real heart and justice inclination and passion God placed in me--especially around women, LGBTQIA+ communities, and communities of color. (in other words, God showed me that smashing white supremacy and the patriarchy is the work of God!)
• I realized that I am called to a life dedicated to singleness and feel free and empowered in this truth. Singleness and celibacy is nothing to be ashamed of sharing. I am a complete and fulfilled person.
• I tentatively and trepidatiously dipped my toe back into the teaching space with an adjunct position at a small, Christ-centered (WHAT?!), liberal arts university. This was the best decision--this is a place focused on community and diversity and the unity of humanity and theology in ways I have never seen. Teaching populations that have historically been told college was not a space for them is life-giving and I grow every day. Creativity and life abound.
• I turned 35 and began to wonder if this would be the year the Parkinson's would get me. This is the age dad was when he began experiencing the disease that would define the rest of his life.  I wonder what work God has for me to do. I want my work on this earth to be good and bring justice and love into the world. I think about the fact that MLK was only 4 years older than I am now when he was ripped from this planet, and look at his legacy.

So here I sit, at 35, a work in progress--still. I want my small life to have ripples for good rather than evil. I want to have adventures, and life this life to the fullest. I want my small life to matter. So here is to being brave with this one wild life. 

I hope to share with you again soon...

Hello again. How are you?

**I discovered this unpublished post from 3 years ago, and decided this dark moment that I was afraid to publish is worth sharing.

Wow, it has been close to two years since I have posted here. I would like to say that it is because my life has been far too full of wandering adventures to afford me time to write, but that is simply not true. As I look over the last post from 2 years ago, I find that not much has changed within me or my experiences.

I have, however, taken baby steps to achieve one of the big pieces of my list--to do work that I care about that is (somewhat) outside of the 9-5 office bubble. I fought, cried, stressed, questioned my sanity, questioned my personhood, questioned everything, and completed a Master's degree in education that additionally qualifies me for my teaching credential. This was a long and very fraught decision, but I feel that all roads for me have lead to teaching. But I still don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I am any good at it. I don't know if I can commit to ANYTHING in this life, even a life-giving wonder that teaching can be. But here I sit, waiting to take the risk and jump in, contingent on a job, that is. So, I am scared. But wandering and reflecting on this life I've chosen in the mean time.

Things I've learned at 30

View of the St. John's Bridge from my favourite reflection spot in Cathedral Park.

1. Portland in the autumn is nifty.
2. Living with people is challenging.
3. I am not built for conventionality.
4. 9-5 Monday-Friday is hard for me
5. I need to work for a purpose that I believe in. I need to care
6. Community brings life. When living without it, I fail.
7. I do not want to have children.
8. I do not want to sit at home making dinners and raising children.
9. A person can be intensely lonely in a crowded room.
10. Isolation cannot be blamed on others, it goes both ways.
11. I love coffee.
12. I love beer.
13. I love traveling.
14. There is a lot that I want to do.
15. Doing the things I want requires money.
16. Money requires a job that pays well.
17. Working for things with purpose does not pay well.
18. Will power is hard for me.
19. I do not want to settle for less than... in any area
20. I value authenticity and deep connection—small talk is not for me.
21. I am easily hurt.
22. Isolation is easy. Vulnerability is hard.
23. I want more than this provincial life.
24. I have a lot of fantastic and varied friends from the many different places and phases of my life.
25. I am grateful for the unconventional path and experiences that I have had.
26. I need Jesus. I need Him everyday to guide me and give me peace and perspective.
27. Life is an adventure. Even in the everyday status quo mundanity of it.

Moral of this story: Adulting is difficult. Unconventional adulting is more difficult. Finding who I am and being okay with that person is a work in progress. Grace is necessary. Neverland is calling.

A Lovely Portland Sunday

Sundays are beautiful. Sundays are about lazily opening my eyes and not worrying about when I have to go to work because I have been mercifully granted Sundays off. I meander down the stairs and brew a fresh french press of locally roasted coffee that I bought at a local market, New Seasons, just down the street from my house. I savor my coffee and my lovely greek yogurt with fresh granola and berries—a beautiful start. I get dressed and walk the 15 minutes to church.

Door of Hope is a life-giving place, it says it all in the name. I stop in a few minutes before the service starts so that I can be sure to grab a funky mug off the wall and fill it with a cup of the locally brewed coffee served at church. I find a comfy chair amongst the milieu of mismatched, eclectic chairs and people. The music starts: this includes a piano, a flute, a mandolin, two guitars, and a ginger-bearded singer with new songs to share written from his heart to worship the Lord. It is a beautiful cacophony of song as we all attempt to join in and sing along. I look up to see arched windows with fairy lights and wooden paintings all around: the beauty of human creation as the souls around me cry out to God. I am overwhelmed. Then the scruffy-bearded, tattooed, ex-rock musician of a pastor ascends the stage and begins to share with us. He shares that his road to faith was long and rocky and what made the difference and opened his heart was story. He talked about reading C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity and G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy. He spoke of deep spiritual classics like A.W. Tozer's Knowledge of the Holy and Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress. Josh spoke of the deep things he felt and learned by reading Lewis' Space Trilogy. All of these books are the stories on my heart, the books that shaped me, I love this. He went on to speak of the fact that story moves us, this is why Jesus taught through stories and parables. The things

shared were all things I had heard before, but meant so much and moved so deep. I want an open and fertile heart to the story of God and to let my life be a compelling story. I left reeling from the beauty of the music and the message which spoke to me so deeply. I wandered home in the afternoon sun and took a circuitous route to ponder the things said and enjoy the beautiful day. 

I walk up Williams Street, two streets over from my house, a street with many shops and restaurants that is always bustling on a Sunday. I watched the couples and families and friends out to brunch chatting and laughing happily together and enjoying delicious new foods. I notice a bit of the street blocked off, so as a nosy wanderer I decide to see what the commotion is about, it seems to be a film set, not sure what they are filming so close to my house, but rumor has it Grimm and Portlandia are doing some things about town, I wonder if it could be one of them?

I walk up the stairs and into a rarely empty house all to myself. I do some dishes that have been sitting, clear out some space and decide to sit for a bit with my thoughts in my cozy upstairs room with all of its familiar items that made their way up to Oregon with me. It is all new here in Portland, but there are still bits of the familiar in this room, I like that.

That top, right window looks like the perfect room, does it not?

Glamorous roommates at Portland Prom.

Rommates: Me, Alina, Josiah

I decide it is too beautiful a day to stay cooped up inside so I once again venture forth out the front door. This time I head the other direction, toward the vibrant fun of Mississippi Avenue. I decide to head to a popular local chain called Blue Star Doughnut and indulge in a Matcha Green Tea doughnut, I know it sounds strange, but trust me, it is delightful! Then I decide it is time to sit for a bit with my book, A Moveable Feast by Hemingway, and dream about wandering Paris with Hemingway and Gertrude Stein and the Fitzgeralds. I stop at Fresh Pot cafe a little up the road, grab a latte and sit on the bustling street with my book and my coffee. I stop reading every now and again to watch a dog walking his owner down the street, or folks window shopping and checking out the funky, vintage-y wares along Mississippi. I finish my coffee and decide it is time for more wandering. I happen upon a fantastic little bookshop, Another Read Through, complete with overflowing shelves of used books, a stairway up with bookish quotations painted on, and overstuffed chairs upstairs to stop and read a bit, I love it!

After an hour or so, I leave with a little local purchase, and continue my wandering. I see that there is a so-called “ Mac n' Cheesery” next door that I will certainly be returning to try, but I am not hungry enough just now, but I am very intrigued. I continue walking until I discover the holy grail: Mississippi Records. This is a very out-of-the-way record store, and a rather small one at that, but inside they have a wealth of obscure folk, country, soul, rock, and a whole lot of punk records. The proprietors are friendly, but not in-your-face, so they allow me the space to peruse, and peruse I do! There is so much good stuff from Dylan to Cash to Miles Davis to Fugazi to every good thing. But after a good while of perusing, I decide that I have spent enough money today (also, they only take cash, and I have none...) so I make my way home through the back streets of old houses and lovely gardens of the Alberta Arts District. Yep, I like it here.

What a happy lazy, beautiful Sunday I have had. I like Sundays. Portland has so much to offer me, and I have only hit the tip of the iceberg. I love sharing it with you, my readerly friend.

Portland or Bust.

    I'm baaaaaaaack! I mean this in more ways than one. As my lovely Roomie pointed out, it has been a year since I have posted on this blog. Wow, a year? How did that happen? Is that ever indicative of the season I have just left behind: radio silence. It was a time of goodness and love and support as I was in San Luis Obispo living with my mom. It was the perfect place to land as I returned from Dublin with no idea what was next (and no money to make any of it happen). I landed the perfect job for this season: bookseller at Barnes & Noble, what a dream! Every day I have been able to talk books with coworkers and friends, to recommend books that I love and get books in the hands of people who will truly love them, and for whom worlds will be opened up. I did not intend for this season to last as long as it did: 3 years, to be exact. But so much happened in the time I was in San Luis Obispo: my Aunt's life partner of 40+ years, Kip, contracted ALS and passed away; I got a few promotions at work that made my soul soar and caused great joy as I got to do even more with the books I love; and, my father passed away, this took a lot of time to grapple with, and doing so in a peaceful, supportive place was perfect. I also made some lovely friends with whom there were many fun SLO adventures, and emotions and connections and heartbreaks, but it was a season that had a lot of beauty and joy in it.

    While walking in this season, however, it felt very stagnant and quiet and alone. I did not allow myself to settle in until a year had passed—I did not intend to stay. As I grappled with all of the emotions that filled this phase, I felt very alone at times, as all of my dearest friends and the community of people on whom I had come to depend were hundreds of miles away. I had been away across the world, and then across the state, so, naturally, people had moved on, but they had done so without me. This was very hard for me to see and feel, especially as I needed that to get me through the pain and confusion of being fatherless and looking for the next right best step. I see now that this forced me to lean in on the support of God and really look at what was going on within me. And then, once I did that, doors opened.

    I was always thinking about what would happen next: where the next adventure would take me. I thought a lot about London, but how to find a way in and a job to support an expensive London lifestyle? I thought about the East Coast: Boston? New York? How fun and new, but that felt more like a trip I need to take, not where I was meant to land. But my mind, heart and soul kept returning to Portland. Before heading across the pond, Janelle and I had several conversations about the draw of Oregon: either Ashland or Portland. Then, when in the British Isles and talking about returning to this U S of A, we asked the question “Where is the States has a climate similar to Ireland/Scotland?” and we, once again landed on Portland. But I returned home with no money to my name and I missed my mom and needed some time to re-adjust, so I went to SLO, Nella went to Orange County and there was no further talk of Portland. But it always remained in the back of my head. Then my father died. It felt like a strange change and a sort of emotional closure in my life, and I realized that it was time for me to move on, to forge my own trail once again, so I began seriously dreaming about Portland. I had decided that between the beautiful green spaces, the lovely soul-filling, mind-quenching rain, the coffee culture, foodie culture, and the literary and very literate subcultures, Portland would be the place for me. And I decided that what I really needed was another solo journey, like Dublin, to go to a strange city all on my own to forge my own trail and to meet people and become who I am going to become on my own.

    As it turns out, 2015 is the year of the wedding for me. I was going to be (and in fact was) in the beautiful, lovely, ineffable, leafy wedding of my darling Roomie in January. Which, anticipating this, I decided to look toward February as the time to move up to Portlandia. This would be perfect as I was to turn 30 in January and with that I could start this new chapter of life. Ta-da, I'd made a plan!! I was so looking forward to this! And then, on August 31 I got a crazy, exciting phone call from my delightful doppleganger, Janelle, that she was engaged! Wow! That was unexpected. And the wedding was going to be in Sacramento in March. Woah, soooo do I participate in a wedding in Napa Valley in January, move in February and then another wedding in March? This seemed like a bit much. So, I decided that I would move to Portland after my second bridemaidly duties of the year were complete. And, it turned out, since Joel, the now husband to Janelle, is from Portland, Janelle and he were planning on settling in Portland after the wedding. So it wouldn't be a solo adventure at all, but one experienced with people who I care deeply about who will be going through some beautiful life changes and adjustments.

    Even crazier than this, I made some lovely friends in SLO. I got invested. But as I got to know my fantabulous friends, Nick and Kyrie better, we discovered that we had the same dream: Portland! They wanted to move in the spring, so did I! This was so cool! Maybe we would even all do it together! I was stoked and began realistically thinking and planning and turning my heart toward Portland, it turned out that it didn't have to be a solo journey. Then some plans changed, due to some extenuating circumstances, they were going to have to leave their apartment in September, so they, amazingly, inspiringly, awesomely decided to just leave San Luis Obispo for Portland then, rather than waiting 6 months! So cool! And I had a momentary crisis, do I go too? Drop everything and go? I decided that the answer was no as I really wanted this to be a wise move for me and for the right reasons, not just because friends were going and I wanted a change. So I said “see ya in a few months” to Nick and Kyrie and continued dreaming about Portland.

    All signs pointed to Portland. At one point I thought this might have been a silly whimsy of mine to head up this way, but it was so much more than that. I believe that God was orchestrating this time and place for me. I needed a change. I needed a place to sit and be an adult and settle, but He knew that alone was not the best way to do this. So, even before I left the house in the packed-to-the-gills rental van with Mom and Aunt Dori, I knew I was running to community amidst newness. God had a Portland plan orchestrated for me. On top of this, He had a beautiful church community that, I certainly feel, He created just for me, waiting here. I spent some time with a dear friend, Allie, on my last trip to Orange County before I moved, and she reminded me of a church that her husband, and my good friend, Ramon had mentioned. This church is called Door of Hope. (yes, yes, I know, I should totally go to this church because my last name...) This church is a place of beauty and grace and art and coffee and a deep deep love for literature and all centered simply on Jesus. I love it. It is a place where people write original music, perform it, and produce albums. There is fresh coffee and mugs at every service, to make it feel home-y, and a collection of mismatched eclectic chairs to choose from. The messages are poignant, and delve into real issues through the lens of CS Lewis and Victor Hugo and the Bible. I absolutely connect to this. And, as if that wasn't home enough, this summer they are launching book clubs as a way to jump into community: everything from fiction to nonfiction to spiritual classics to poetry to SciFi, I could not be more ineffably ecstatic about this. This is a place built for me in a beautiful converted old building across from a park. Sigh. It is just right.

    I could tell you a lot of stories about the amazing way a perfect house in a perfect location fell into my lap (after much stress about not finding anywhere to live!), a house walking-distance to Door of Hope and loads of restaurants, bars, music venues, cafes and other goodies. I could tell you about how a position as a bookseller at a nearby Barnes & Noble opened up, and, after a bit of back and forth, I stepped down from manager, and took the risk and came up to Portland with a job that I know and enjoy (though I am hoping to get a job as a Community College Professor in the near future). I could tell you how one of my roommates is a dancer and the other makes jewelry in our basement. I could tell you about the puppy and the 5-year-old that I also share the house with. But mostly I want to tell you that I am content. I know that I made the right decision in moving up here. Everyday I discover something new and weird and wonderful in this city. There have obviously been some lonely and scary and weird adjusting sort of moments, but I am confident that it is all worth it.

     I will be sharing more about my adventures in Portlandia. As I am now a resident of a new state, I want to be intentionally engaged in this time and in sharing this with you, whoever you may be, my lovely reader. I hope to share pictures and experiences. I would love for everyone to experience the joy of Portland though, so come visit me!

“I want you to get into the deep, beautiful melancholy of everything that’s happened.” –Elizabethtown

     I feel like this is exactly what has been forced upon my emotional state of late, and let me tell you, it is not pretty. To be forced to deal with the deluge of pain and change and fear and, frankly, crap, that has been thrown my way is not an easy thing (most especially for a non-confrontational avoider such as yours truly). But the death of a parent is not something that one can easily ignore for long; it somehow seeps into the very marrow of your everyday life, thought, and interaction, even if you do not realize it is happening. I feel like this is especially true even though, or possibly, because, I had a troubled relationship with my father, it makes his death all the more difficult to process, and so much easier to avoid thinking about at all. UNTIL those lovely moments of break down where it all catches up and catches me off-guard. I can’t help but think of that Dane Cook sketch “Crying” where he describes this experience as the world just surprising you by tapping you on the shoulder and all of a sudden “I’m the world and I need to tell you something: you’re gonna C-R-Y."

   

     This is me moment-to-moment lately, and it feels like I have no idea why this is happening, and then I remember, and I have to tell myself: your father just died, this is allowed.

     How do you mourn such a difficult man? A man who antagonized every person he ever met. A man who did whatever he wanted no matter the cost to those around him. A man who never once took on the responsibility or, dare I say it, the blame, for any mistake he made. A man who took the initiative to do the things he was interested in, the things he wanted to do, and lived. A man who studied well, to an obsessive point, and was a wealth of knowledge. A man who helped to bring me into this world. A man, who,despite all his faults, I can say with confidence, loved me. A man who I loved and hated in equal measure. My father, David Albert Hope.

     I have been watching “Elizabethtown” a lot lately. It is a great film that really perfectly (and quirkily) puts into a story a lot of the things one faces at the loss of a parent. The loss, the failure at not really knowing my dad and not patching up what we had between us. Most of all this film forms a sort of perfect  release, as I  have not really found any sort of closure in his death. It all happened so fast. But no services were held. No words were said. Many head-tilts and “I’m so sorry”s and “how are you doing”s were aimed at me, and frankly, these are terrible questions to answer and reactions that leave me feeling racked with guilt for not feeling more sad about the passing of my father.

     If I am honest, the most overwhelming feeling is one of freedom. I no longer have to have an anxiety attack when he calls me, or when I have to visit him. I no longer have to take a deep breath and prepare for the conversation that will no doubt leave me feeling like a deflated, unintelligent failure. But I did love this intelligent and stubborn man. I so deeply wanted healing and to have a “daddy.” But these are wishes that can now never come to pass. This is something I am going to have to come to terms with and as I do, I need to open my hands and let go of these regrets because there is nothing I can do about them now and holding on and playing the “what if” or “if only” game just leads to insanity.

     What I really want is what Orlando Bloom’s character in Elizabethtown  gets—closure via a personal trip with his father, even if it’s a posthumous trip. It is beautiful. I cry every time, such a great moment of catharsis.

      So, here I sit, getting into the deep beautiful melancholy of everything that has happened in my life in the past months. And friends, thank you for your care and questions, please keep them coming, please remind me to reflect and not to avoid, I need you still.

     A dear, darling friend of many years sent me a card this week that really pierced to the heart of all of these things going on in me, and, as she always does, she put it beautifully: 

  “I know the last year and a half have had more than their fair share of questions, and silences, and scrapes, but I was just struck with the image the  way trees are shaped in winter—the way the cold and seemingly barren months  drive the tree’s sap deeper into its center and forms an even stronger core,  stronger roots, so that by the time spring comes around again it finds a  different tree—steadier, harder to blow over, and beautiful.”

    Thank you friend, for these words. I pray and I know that through this season of pain and healing that I am becoming a stronger, steadier, and wiser tree, and I thank God for that.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes: How Do You Measure A Year in the Life?

    One year ago today I took a final, rainy walk through Dublin City. I meandered down Grafton Street dropping all the spare change I had accumulated over the year into the cases of the buskers I grew to dearly love. I then walked through the touristy mayhem of Temple Bar.  I crossed the lovely ha'penny bridge and wandered along the River Liffey. I passed the James Joyce statue, and returned to my flat on Henry Street one last time to retrieve my luggage and board a plane back to the United States. After a wonderful, dreamy, hard-work-filled, life-altering year in Ireland I was finding it hard to day goodbye to this city, not to mention to the friends I made while living here. I did not want to go. But I was out of money, and I truly missed my friends and family as well the familiar California landscape. So I breathed in my last fresh Irish air, proceeded to the Dublin Airport, and tearfully boarded the Aer Lingus plane (fittingly called St. Aoife) that was to take me back to the US of A. I could not tear my eyes off the landscape until all I could see was the Atlantic out my window. Thus, I said farewell to the Land of Eire.

Last looks.

        I landed 6 hours later in New York City. I thought it a fitting way to return home: embarking upon another adventure. I met up with my dear friend, Jessica, who had recently transplanted herself to New York from Southern California. It was fabulous (once I got over the shock of the amazingly oppressive heat!!! After a year in Dublin with cool temperatures and the lovely rain, New York in September was a shock! 90 degrees F/32 C!) Wandering around this lively, historic city, seeing a fantastical play on Broadway, "Peter and the Starcatchers," and seeing the melting pot of culture, locals, tourists, and all sorts of interesting people was a wonderful way to spend my first days back in the United States.

Back in the U.S.A.

    The next journey was to fly from the still unfamiliar East Coast to land in California: home. It was amazing to me to discover that the flight from New York to California was almost as long as the flight from Dublin to New York! This is a large country I live in! I didn't really get that fact until I was in Europe which is so accessible and close, trips across Ireland by train only take a couple of hours. I landed in Los Angeles and it all seemed so oddly familiar, yet a year away is longer than I thought it would be, just long enough to adjust and become attuned to the Irish culture and accents and words and foods. It was strange to think things were strange. I flew the hour north to San Luis Obispo, and that is where I have been ever since.

   I have taken many trips to visit friends I had not seen for a year. To return to familiar places. I have attended many weddings, I was even the maid of honour in the nuptial of my dear friend Lisa.

The Wedding of my Lisa Ladybug, now Mrs. Jagers

     This year has been a great time of catching up with people. Of spending time with my mom, who I missed dearly while I was in Dublin. I have gotten a job at Barnes & Noble working with books, arranging them, bring books together with people, answering questions and really enjoying it. But this year seems so strange, to go from a great year of new experiences and significance and travels to a year of sitting still, waiting, working, and wondering what's next is a strange transition.

    I feel like a person who is split. I so desperately miss Europe and I want to return. But in what capacity? How would I support myself? And returning would just mean being in a different place and trying to answer these same questions. I miss the rain. I miss the lovely accents. I miss the slower way of life "don't worry about it, it'll be grand." I miss the pubs with live music all night every night. I miss the ease of travel with public transport and cheap flights all over. But while I was away I missed my community here. I missed many American foods and mostly Mexican food!

    So here I sit, wondering what is next, reflecting on the last year of my life. I have been creating a lot of art as a way of processing. I have printed thousands of pictures and arranged them in books documenting my time abroad. But I refuse to let them tell the whole story of my adventures in travels. I want to travel this country. I want to see so much more of the world that I have not yet seen. I am just wondering what the wisest plan of action for this is.

   A year goes by so fast. There have been many joyous reunions and weddings and adventures in this last year back in California. I do not want to miss the here and now, but I am so looking forward to the next adventure, whatever that may be. But until then I am enjoying connection through correspondence, so please, keep writing to me dear friends!

Reflections Upon Readings for the 2013 Reading Challenge

Well, my intention for this reading challenge had been that I would read a book, then post my thoughts about said book to thoughtfully go through this year of reading. However, thus far that  has clearly not happened. That is not to say that I have not had thoughts to share as I read these books, I just have not been diligent enough to take the time to share them.

So I will share some spare thoughts on the things read so far from my list. I have tried to read bits from each category in order to keep my brain stretched and to not get stuck in or tired of any one genre. Thus the list is varied, which was part of the point of my choices for the year, to continue on the reading path started by my Master's Programme last year.

Books  completed thus far...

Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan

I chose this book because it is one that had escaped my reading and as it is a central classic of Christianity, I thought it would be worth my reading. What I did not expect was the fantastic picture it painted of the thought and life of the age into which it was written. Bunyan made it a point to write a work of encouragement in the vernacular and very common language of the day. In this, I believe, he succeeded. It is a beautiful allegory of the Christian life and all the trials and glories therein. I love the friends that Christian meets along the way and leads to heaven, or sadly loses on the path. I was very intrigued by the heavy-handed message against consumerism and commerce as being a great, arguably even the greatest, evil faced. This is seen as Christian and his traveling companions enter Vanity Fair and are attacked and stolen away. I shudder to think what Bunyan would have to say about our world of materialism and commerce today.  In the foreword to my edition, it was mentioned that there were many critics that were vehemently opposed to a work that appealed so widely to a "common" and un-educated seventeeth-century audience. This was an era in which more and more people in the world were becoming literate, not just the educated upper classes and it was thought that fictions and novelizations of things stole something of the true spirit from them and this was one major line of thought toward The Pilgrim's Progress. In today's world, most literature is fiction, is the novel, and the un-educated language of Bunyan appears quite the opposite. However, the idea that people could read and interpret this work themselves was terrifying in the contemporary time because they had always had Priests, Pastors, Reverends, Vicars, what have you to guide their thinking...what if they interpret this work incorrectly to their mortal peril?!?! *gasp* I love what this work and this debate did to bring about independent thought and ownership of each person's personal faith and walk with God. I also love the value Bunyan gives to story, after all, he argues, Jesus spoke in parables. Deep truths and philosophies seem to be more poignant when delivered in the form of a story. All this to say, I really enjoyed the process and illumination of reading this work. I cannot believe it took so long to get to it.

Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne

There are so many reasons that I chose to add this one to the list. To start with, it is a classic of Children's Literature that every single person should read. Secondly, growing up Winnie the Pooh was a dear friend of mine and I would often wander to the Hundred Acre Wood. However, I had a few random Winnie the Pooh stories I had read out of Disney collections of stories, that may or may not have been the real thing, so I decided it was time. I decided this long before this reading challenge appeared on my radar. When in London at Christmas I wanted to get myself an iconically British book from Hatchard's, the oldest bookshop in London, as I was perusing the shelves I came across a beautiful edition of Milne's classic that had been reprinted just as it was when it was initially published in 1926--there was no question that this was the perfect choice. Add to this that my mother, when in London in the 1970's for a study programme purchased for herself the complete stories of Paddington Bear, so I had to get the other British bear as I was in London. That is enough back story, I think. As expected, this collection of stories and adventures of Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Owl, Kanga, Roo, and, of course, Christopher Robin, was fantastic and extra fantastical. I love the imagination involved in the stories and the heart with an emphasis on friendship. The lessons of what it means to be a friend and to be unselfish and to learn together is beautiful. And who doesn't love a bear with a honey jar stuck on his nose?!

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

This book was chosen because this author has been stated as one of the best Science Fiction writers and I have long had every intention of reading some Philip K. Dick. When deciding what to read, I had a hard time, however. The choice was between reading something amongst his many works that have been made into films (most of which I have seen, and would thus have preconceptions) or to choose something brand new to experience. After much thought and deliberation, I decided to go with something that had produced an absolutely fantastic film, Bladerunner (1982). In that I wrote and researched my Master's dissertation on film and literary noir and this fell into that category, I could not but choose this. I had looked at the film in the neo-noir section of my thesis, and I absolutely loved delving into the Science Fiction Noir. The original story on which the film is based did not disappoint. I loved the obvious grasp that Philip K. Dick had of the Noir genre of film and fiction and he included all of the tropes and expected elements that guide the reader to know it is a noir: the disgruntled "investigator" and/or thug, the series of femme fatales, the dilapidated and seedy world of San Francisco, and the loss of hope in all the characters we encounter. There is even a scene at a theatre with a sexed-up replicant female that Deckart has to destroy. The language and images painted in this book were great. Philip K. Dick truly is a master of the craft and I look forward to reading more by him.


The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter

This is another classic work of Children's Literature that I felt I needed to say I had truly read. I know somewhere along the way I had read this and probably all of the other bunny stories by Potter, but I could not recall. So, I diligently purchased a collection of The Complete Tales of Peter Rabbit, and let me tell you, this was money well spent. I aptly timed the reading of these stories to co-incide with Easter week and each night, my mom and I read these aloud and had a proper story time, which, I am certain, is the best way to experience these lovely stories and illustrations of these naughty little bunnies. I will definitely go back and read these stories again and again alongside Winnie the Pooh.




Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

I chose this book for several reasons, the first of which is that it won the 2009 Man Booker Prize. I had also decided that I wanted to gain more exposure to works on or inspired by history to widen my knowledge and such. This book was fantastic. It is part of a trilogy called the Thomas Cromwell Trilogy. It is the story of Henry VIII and his rise and fall through the eyes of Thomas Cromwell. I find this choice of perspective very interesting because the story of Henry is generally told from the perspective of either his wives or Sir Thomas More, and thus, Cromwell is painted as a villian. In Wolf Hall we see the birth and rough childhood of Cromwell and his apprenticeship and growth under Cardinal Wosely and finally his rise to power as what was essentially Henry's most trusted advisor. As this personal story progresses we see the power that Henry VIII had as well as all of his insecurities and the maneuvering of all of the court around him in their desire for power. On a political note it is very interesting to see the way in which Thomas simply worked hard to get to where he was and was very devoted to those he worked for, this, I think, is the point Mantel is attempting to make with these books--Cromwell was not a villian, simply a practical man. In these books, More is painted as more of the villian and as a ridiculous character which is an interesting perspective (especailly if you have seen the series, "The Tudors"). The feminine side of this book is equally interesting and poignant. Cromwell was not a mysogynist, in fact he gives great power to his wife and expresses great respect for all the women in Henry's life, especially Catherine of Aragon. But it is Anne, in this book, who becomes the central powerful woman, and through Cromwell we get to hear and see her rise and all of the rumours about how she got there: who she slept with, who she stepped on, and how she manipulated Henry. This book ends as Anne has had Elizabeth and assured that Mary, Catherine's child, is made a bastard to assure Elizabeth's place. But Anne has been able to produce no male heir for Henry and she is beginning to be nervous and insecure as he obviously goes to other beds in the night.
This was a fantastically personal and obviously well-researched book. The second book in the series, Bring Up the Bodies, won the 2012 Man Booker Prize and is just out in paperback and it sits on my bookcase awaiting me. I look forward to the continuing saga.


Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

This is yet another book that I feel I should have read by now, but it had escaped me. I am pretty certain it goes without saying that I very much enjoyed the process of reading this book. It was rather heavy-handed with its views of mass consumption of entertainment and products. After spending a year discussing and debating the entertainments of the masses versus the elite I feel that I should maybe disagree a little with the premises of this book, but I cannot say that I did. This world in which all the humanities all beauty all nature all choice has been taken away is deplorable and ugly and disgusting to me. I do not want to live in a world run so efficiently where there is no space for independent thought and only room for science. Ugh! It is definitely a thought-provoking read that I am still thinking about. Also, it involves one of the greatest lines in literature that I have encountered recently: "I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin."


A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L'Engle

Okay, okay, I can hear you all now "YOU HAVEN'T READ THIS BOOK?!" and my answer to that now is a resounding, "I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS HAPPENED!" this was seriously one of the most beautiful fantastical books ever. I love that it is the first children's science fiction work and it is well worth the Newbery Award that it won. A beautiful story of faith in the unseen, of the fact that it is ok to be different, and that we all grow out of our awkward stages; or is it saying that we grow into them and we come to be okay with it? I love the adventure of these three lost and strange and hopeful children and how they overcome great evil with the help of what is good. In this book L'Engle created the truly classic characters of Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which...I love them a lot. The journey and adventure and finding hope and having sight for what matters is such a beautiful message and one that I believe we need to cling to more and more today. I definitely intend to read the rest of this trilogy.



Well, this has been my reading journey thus far. I am currently into The Imitation of Christ by Thomas A Kempis and plan to post about the process of this book as well. Please feel free to comment, agree, disagree, converse about these books with me, that is what this is all about after all!

Nine Months Back

This blog has been pretty silent in my time back in the U S of A. This is partly due to laziness, partly due to neglect, but mostly because I have not felt like dealing with the who, what, when, where, why, how, and especially the "what's next" of right now.

Let me start by stating that I am ok. I am blessed to have a mother who I can also call my friend who is so giving of herself that she is happy to let me invade her space and help me financially with a roof over my head and food to eat and the like so that, as I readjust to this place and try to decide where I want to go from here (and as I say that I always hear Buffy singing "Where do we go from here..."), I do not have to stress about these everyday expenses. I am also blessed to have found a job at a place I love, Barnes & Noble, working with books and people who enjoy books. True, it does not provide very well financially, but I think it is just right for this season, and I am blessed to have found it. There are downsides (selling e-readers for one) but working in a bookshop is so fantastic and good for my soul that I have decided to stop feeling that I need to justify it. I seem always to quantify my working at Barnes and Noble with a "but just for now" or "until I figure things out" not that it can't be that, but it is perfectly acceptable to work in a bookshop.

So outside of this, I feel very alone. San Luis Obispo is an amazingly beautiful city with many wonderful restaurants, a very lively artsy scene (which is a definite attraction to any city Becky lives in), beautiful beaches, and great weather. But I do not know many people and I am seriously lacking the community that I have learned that I, and each human on this planet, desperately need. I have learned a lot about myself over the last year in being on my own and traveling abroad; one of these things is that I have a hard time reaching out and connecting to people. Married to this is that I have a deep fear of commitment and rejection, so I tend to stay on the safe side relationally because I don't want to be hurt. However, this fear and stasis leaves me in a place of feeling outside, feeling alone. I love the time I have spent with my mother and my aunt and deeply value these relationships, but I need more.

With this in mind, I took some bold steps this week to reach out and get plugged in, I joined a ministry at church and hopefully a community group, because this is exactly the kind of community I am in need of: deep, more than superficial, and intentional.

But I am terrified.
What if this means I am stuck here in SLO? I feel all the time that I am in a holding pattern here, that I will make some money seek opportunity and leave to Fullerton or to London or to New York City...I do not want to settle here. This is where my mom is. This is where my family has been for many generations, which is cool, but I want to blaze my own trail, I want to be my own person, to be brave with this life of mine. But these fears keep popping up and I stay.

Logistically, moving cannot happen right now, I just don't have the funds and need a proper job wherever I would move to before I can afford to settle. Thus, I have realized, I am here right now; waiting for the next best thing, the next road, to dig into community is not a wise plan because I will miss out on the here in now. I will miss out on what God has for me in San Luis Obispo, California in 2013.

As I embrace the here and now, I sit in a torn and double-minded state. I desperately miss Europe. I miss the culture. I miss the people. I miss the ease of travel. I miss the independent life I established for myself while I was there. But when I was there, I desperately missed things of California: people, sunshine, food, life. So I am torn as far as what the next best right step in my life should be. So this is a season of prayerfully seeking that out while not missing out on the now. This is a season in which I do need to have space and time on my own, so it is good that I have not filled it with people and events to pull me away from that, but I need sounding boards, I need pray-ers, but I need to invest to gain investment.

So, dear friends, if you have called me and I have ignored you or been away, I apologize. I have not felt good about the state of mind and life I have been in, so I did not want to talk about it, so I didn't answer. I am sorry. This is the opposite of what I need to do. Please continue pursuing me. Ask me tough questions about things because I need to struggle with the answers. I want this season to be one of continued growth. I have realized that this time in San Luis Obispo is a continuation of my year in Dublin. I made a choice to go away, to follow this path of risk and adventure and learning who I am and how I deal with things. So, here is to more along these adventuring lines. We shall see what the future hold.

If you have read this far I am amazed and I thank you for caring enough to put up with this stream-of-consciousness post. I need community and connection and accountability so I felt very strongly that this is something that I should share.

The 2013 Reading Challenge.

At long last, my long overdue reading-challenge list.

In case you are out of the loop and have not yet heard about this challenge, following are the pertinent details: pick 5 books in 5 categories and commit to reading them this year. This challenge was created to inspire a public that does not normally devote itself to reading to do so. On the surface this seems like an easy challenge, ok! I said, I will read books I have intended to read and commit to it, picking books and categories will be easy! This was certainly not the case. However, after much deliberation the list has been set (yes, there are many thing left off of it that I would like to include, but this is my story, and I'm sticking to it).

The Categories are...

CHILDREN'S LITERATURE
    1. The Adventures of Winnie the Pooh- A.A. Milne
    2. A Wrinkle in Time- Madeline L'Engle
    3.The Phantom Tollbooth- Norton Juster
    4. The Tale of Peter Rabbit- Beatrix Potter
    5. The Tale of Desperaux- Katie DiCamillo

SCIENCE FICTION
    1. Ender's Game- Orson Scott Card
    2. Slaughterhouse Five- Kurt Vonnegut
    3. Martian Chronicles- Ray Bradbury
    4. Brave New World- Aldous Huxley
    5. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?- Philip K. Dick

CHRISTIAN CLASSICS
     1. Pilgrim's Progress- John Bunyan
     2. Imitation of Christ- Thomas a Kempis
     3. Dark Night of the Soul- St. John of the Cross
     4. Confessions- St. Augustine
     5. The Cost of Discipleship- Dietrich Bonhoeffer

HISTORICAL LITERATURE (NEW)
     1. Wolf Hall- Hilary Mantel
     2. Brooklyn- Colm Toibin
     3. The Greater Journey- David McCullough
     4. The Hour of Peril- David Stashower
     5. To Marry an English Lord- Gail MacColl

BESTSELLERS/AWARD WINNERS
    1. Skippy Dies- Paul Murray
    2. Death Comes to Pemberly- P.D. James
    3. The Fault in Our Stars- John Green
    4. World War Z- Max Brooks
    5. On Chesil Beach- Ian McEwan


And my added category that I plan to read along with these others for the challenge:

POETRY COLLECTIONS
    1. Elizabeth Bishop
    2. Rumi
    3. Leaves of Grass- Walt Whitman
    4. Rilke
    5. W.H. Auden

"The House By The Side Of The Road" by Sam Walter Foss

"There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
in the peace of their self-content;
there are souls like stars that dwell apart,
in a fellowless firmament;
there are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
where highways never went;
but let me live by the side of the road
and try to be a friend.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
with people passing by--
the ones who are good, and the ones who are bad,
as good and bad as I.
I would not sit on a scorner's seat,
or hurl the cynic's ban;
let me live in a house by the side of the road
and be the friend I can.

I see from my house by the side of the road
by the side of the highway of life,
those who press with the ardour of hope,
and others who faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears--
both parts of an infinite plan.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
and be the friend I can.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
and mountains of wearisome height;
that road passes on through the long afternoon,
and stretches away to the night;
but still I rejoice when the travellers rejoice,
and weep with the strangers that moan,
nor live in my house by the side of the road
like someone who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
where all manner of folk go by.
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
wise, foolish--so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
and be the friend I can."


May this be a picture of my life. To live the life of a loving friend walking with those who rejoice and those who mourn no matter who they are or who I am. Beautiful.

The Journey Continues

"The cell is the place of being shut away with God, and with yourself. This may be a physical place or just a choice to be opened to Him in an interior way. We know it is exactly what we need, but avoid time alone and find other things to address in order to delay it."
                                                                                            ~Celtic Daily Prayer Book

This speaks to so many things in my life and head right now, and is evident in the fact that there has been radio silence on this blog. I have been back in the U.S.A. for 3 months now and, if I am honest, though I am using this time to process and re-adjust from my year in the Land of Eire, I have not allowed myself to do so. A large part of my reasoning for this is the idea that if I never process, never adjust then the year, the journey will not be over. I do not want to admit that it is over and have to return to the mundane things of life: bills, employment, etc. But something that I have come to realize in the past few weeks is that this phase, this re-adjusting, figuring out American life is also part of the journey of my year in Ireland. I am still in the adventure of a life well-lived. The present is a real challenge in figuring out what that looks like back amidst the familiar--to not fall back into complacent and comfortable habits, but live a life of risk and adventure.

In this vein, in the months I have been back on U.S. soil I have continued to move and travel and catch up with people, which has been grand, but I fear that a lot of it comes from a desire to never stop and sit in silence and hear the reality of how I am. But evenso, it has been great. I stopped off for a week in New York City before returning to the West Coast and NYC was magically amazing. I have a friend, the lovely Jessica, who is now a NYC resident, so I was able to stay in her Washington Heights apartment (yes, that's correct, Jessica lives "In the Heights"!). I did all of the typical, yet necessary touristy things while in the city, which, of course, included a Broadway show of "Peter and the Starcatchers" which was imaginative and fantastical and wonderful, a great choice! From New York I returned to San Luis Obispo with my darling mother to greet me with a homecooked meal and a smile. Not wanting to settle yet, I decided to run away a week later to Southern California, Orange County to be exact to see all my old haunts and friends. It was a hear-warming, but also strange experience. As I have returned to familiar people and places there is a strange sense of the familiar becoming foreign as I realize more and more just how much I assimilated into Irish life and culture and little American-isms now seem odd. A year away is a good amount of time to adjust, then have to learn to re-adjust again (though to be honest, I am rather resistant to assimilating completely back into American culture, after all, being Irish is great craic!). I then journeyed to San Diego to see my city that will always feel like home, and indeed that remains to be true, I stepped off the train and walked downtown and felt at home, and happy. Wandering this city after a year of European travel and adventure was a new experience, seeing things from a new perspective, and just experiencing how sprawling Southern California is as compared to Dublin and cities in the U.K. was strange. But I still have a deep love for my hometown.

After these Southern California adventures, I had the pleasure of a good friend driving back to SLO with me. A friend that I have been through a lot with and that I missed a lot that happened in her life this year. Large events that changed the landscape of our friendship and emotions occurred this year, and we had a very good week of hanging out and crying and just being present together as we were not able to while I was away.

Following this, I ran away yet again and flew to a small town called Fountain Green, Utah where my aunt lives, and now my father lives with her. The idea that he is no longer in San Diego, where he has seemingly always been is very strange. Such change while I was away. But spending time getting to know their life in Utah and Arizona (where they spend the winter) was good. It is a beautiful area with red hills and sheep and cows and horses, very idyllic and iconically middle America. It was fantastic getting to know my aunt better and it was good seeing my dad, though hard to see his state of health, his Parkinson's is not treating him too well, but I gathered that he is doing better than a year ago, so there is hope in that.

After 10 days in Utah, it was time to fly back to San Luis Obispo, to fly back and decide what the next best right step would be. This is something I was fearing; what happens next? where do I live? where do I work? who am I now? Despite these fears and insecurities, I know with conviction that I am an immensely lucky person to have had the year of adventure that I had, and to have such a loving, supportive, understanding mother who is there for me no matter what. She has been amazing in allowing me to remain in her house and providing food and basic life necessities that I require and cannot afford in my huge state of debt.

So, what have I decided? Where am I now? Well, as far as deciding what I want to do with my life and what this next season looks like, I am still drawing a blank, but as of today I am allowing myself space and quiet to process these things. I have gotten a seasonal job at Barnes and Noble Bookstore here in SLO, which does not give me many hours or much money, but I am enjoying it. It would be easy, and is easy, to feel that I have "failed" in that I am working a minimum wage job and living with my mother at the age of 27, but I refuse to think this. I want to experience life and take every moment for all it's worth. I did exactly that this past year: I went and lived in a country I have always wanted to, I studied literature at Trinity College Dublin and achieved a Master's degree, I traveled all over the U.K. and Ireland...I wish I could have seen more of Europe, but evenso I experienced this year. I am trusting and prayerful about the next season...whether it means remaining here, heading back to Orange County and finding a job down there, the possibility of teacher training, or the ever enticing draw to return to Europe and figure it all out there.

But I will not miss a moment. I will intentionally seek quiet space, my cell, and engage and reflect to not just go through the motions of life and run away. This will not be easy, but I am trusting that it will be good. So here is to the continued journey. Cheers.

Bittersweet

. . . is the word of the moment.

I cannot believe that I am already leaving Ireland. A year has gone by so fast.
This has been a crazy, fun, trying, lonely, new friend-filled year.
I have learned a lot both academically and personally. I have learned so much about who I am as a person. I have learned a lot about how I deal with tough times. I have learned so much about literature and how to look at and think about literature.

This year spent in Ireland really has been a life-changing, dream-come-true sort of year, no matter how cliche that sounds. To get to see and experience these places I have always dreamt of going has been amazing. There is so much more I want to experience, it hurts to leave. I feel like I am tearing myself away and such a big part of me will stay here.

But with all this melancholy at departing, there is so much excitement to return. To start with I am over the moon with excitement to have one last travelling hoorah and get to spend time with a lovely friend who has just moved to New York. I have never spent time in New York and always wanted to, and to get to do it with a "local" will be amazing. The perfect welcome back to the States, and a final adventure before returning home. I am excited.

There is so much that I have missed about California, most of all my lovely friends, family, and community. I am not, however, looking forward to the weather, despite what everyone in Ireland says. I have come to adore the rain. I love stepping outside and not knowing what weather I will be stepping into...sometimes it's sunny, sometimes it's overcast, ok most of the time it's overcast, and at some point in the day, you know there will be rain. I love that variety. And I have gotten used to the cooler temperatures, the fact that when it is 15C/60F I am outside without a sweater, basking in the warmth. In my previous life I would have been putting a sweater on about then. I fear I will melt in the California sun. There will definitely be some re-adjusting to do. Cultural re-adjustment as well, I have a feeling. I will miss the pub lifestyle, to stop in, have a seat, have a pint, have a conversation, I have met such interesting people throughout the year, I love it. I'll miss the crazy Irish accents and way of speaking...I will miss the grand craic with your man that happens here :-)

So, I will make the most of these last few days, trying to fit as much of Ireland in my suitcases as I can, and eating up the experiences I have left. This has been a landmark year. There have been some serious struggles and challenges, but I am so glad that I took a risk, took a step, and came. I will never be the same.

Dissertation Blues...

My life at the moment:

Work, work, work, work.
Write, write, write...

FREAK OUT

What the heck am I doing with my life?! What is a dissertation? Can I write a dissertation? What have I gotten myself into?

Work, work, work work.
Research, read, think, plan, outline.
Write, write, edit, revise, write some more.

Pack a box. Ship a box to California.

FREAK OUT

I leave in 3 weeks! 3 weeks!!! I will never get this dissertation done in that time! I am leaving Ireland, I do not want to go! I am going back to California. Where am I going to live? I am broke. How will I pay for food? Where will I work? What will the next adventure look like? Can I handle another adventure? What am I doing with my life?!

Work. Work.  Work.
Watch a film. Watch the commentary. Take notes.
Write. Write. Write.


Repeat.

On living

Tonight I have made a comforting realization. Want to hear it?

I have realized that despite the fears, despite the insecurities, despite the pressures and despite the anxieties that come upon me from time to time, the priorities I have set: to live life--to truly live and experience life--are realities I have lived out.

I have always said that I do not want to be a person who lets life pass me by. I do not want to be 90 years old and say I wish I had...

Day to day I become bogged down in what I can only describe as societal pressures of feeling that I need to be more successful, I need to have a career, a house, a husband, a "life." But then I realize that I do not want all those things. My desire is for so much more because I know that there is so much more in the world and so much more to life than convention. I am not saying that there is anything wrong with any of those things, but I want to live, to experience, to have a unique life, and, for me, that means not living the "American Dream."

I have many moments of deep darkness and anxiety that I have gone down the wrong path, that I have not been "wise" with time or money in these experiences. But then the realization comes to me that I don't care. I will pay for these things somehow. I will be ok. I will be more than ok because I am a changed person with experiences that will stay with me. I do not want to live a life characterized by fear, a feeling I am prone to. I want to risk, to go, to live and let the details fall into place. And they have.

Looking at my adult life I see that there are many moments of this sort if paralysis, then by the grace and strength of God, I have been able to shake these and take risks. I am proud of this fact--it is something that I have only come to realize tonight. I want to remain and to grow even more into this person. I want to be a person of thoughtfulness and wisdom, who seeks the right path. However, I do not want to sit in that waiting period in such a way that it becomes a crutch, I will continue to live and risk and savour every moment of this live that has been gifted to me.

I took the risk and moved back to Southern California with no job or money in sight, and God provided a fantastic job with wonderful people and a community that truly blessed me and became family.

I took the risk and left that family to travel across the pond to "the homeland," Ireland, and it has been a truly beautiful time. I have had the opportunity to travel and experience things I have long dreamed about. I have grown in so many ways, through both good and difficult times.

I have had a fantastic ride so far, I cannot wait to see what lies in store. This is the first time I have said this and truly meant it. I will no longer be afraid. I have been given this one life, I will not waste it.

Forgiveness

Jesus' prayer was, 'Father forgive them;
they know not what they do.'
A prayer born in death, writhing with pain.
A prayer risking faith, facing the sorrow.
A prayer living in hope, seeing the future.

My prayer was, 'God, how can I forgive them?
They do know what they did.'
A prayer saying, 'It still hurts.'
A prayer wanting vengeance.
A prayer seeking direction.

My prayer became, 'God, help me forgive them;
they know what they did.'
A prayer saying, 'They were wrong.'
A prayer wanting reconciliation.
A prayer seeking courage.

My prayer became, 'God, forgive them;
they know what they did.'
A prayer that wrestled with injustice.
A prayer that acknowledges weakness.
A prayer that found home in God's love.

My prayer remains, 'God, forgive them;
they know what they did.'
Because forgiving creates life from death.
Because forgiving cleanses the healing wound.
Because forgiving builds the bridge of freedom.
                     
                                              ~Jared P. Pingleton The Role and Function of Forgiveness.




I find this picture of the process of forgiveness to be so very true to life. I love the attempts at prayer and the honesty therein. Forgiveness is not easy. Forgiveness requires humility and surrender--things contrary to natural human reactions when wronged. But forgiveness brings life and freedom, not to mention healing and reconciliation to relationships. Being on the other side of this, and looking back, I see just how true these words are. Letting go of the shackles of hurt and resentment and even cyncism and stepping into forgiveness is supremely freeing and life-giving. God knows what He is doing when He asks us to forgive.

A beautifully honest prayer

I see Your hands,
not white and manicured, but scarred and scratched and competent,
reach out--
not always to remove the weight I carry,
but to shift its balance, ease it,
make it bearable.
Lord, if this is where You want me,
I'm content.
No, not quite true. I wish it were.
All I can say, in honesty, is this:
If this is where I'm meant to be,
I'll stay. And try.
Just let me feel Your hands.
And, Lord, for all who hurt today--
hurt more than me--
I ask for strength and that flicker of light,
and warmth, that says You're there.
                                                      ~Eddie Askew Many Voices, Once Voice

New Flat

I am now officially a Dubliner, living in the city centre. The view from my bedroom window.

For those of you that may be interested in my new city centre flat, I thought I would post the pictures on here rather than Facebook, so not everyone in the world has to see where I live. I absolutely love this place and feel so blessed to be where I am and have my own lovely space that is just so very me.

Here on the street where I live...

My front door. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I officially have a Dublin door!

The entryway and stairway up to my flat...4 flights of stairs to ascend.

The dining area.

My tiny kitchen, but look, a washer/dryer!!

The living area, with a super comfy couch

The winding stair...

My upstairs loft-y bedroom.