her extraordinary dignity and virtue

"There was a woman at Alexandria named Hypatia, daughter of the philosopher Theon, who made such attainments in literature and science, as to far surpass all the philosophers of her own time. Having succeeded to the school of Plato and Plotinus, she explained the principles of philosophy to her auditors, many of whom came from a distance to receive her instructions. On account of the self-possession and ease of manner which she had acquired in consequence of the cultivation of her mind, she not infrequently appeared in public in the presence of the magistrates. Neither did she feel abashed in going to an assembly of men. For all men on account of her extraordinary dignity and virtue admired her the more.” —Socrates Scholasticus, Ecclesiastical History

Return to Origin

I don't know if I correctly remember who I once was. Now as I listen to myself recount the events of my past I found I have embellished, bedazzled, sculpted and polished my memories into beautiful accoutrements fit for a person of honor. I try to remember who I was but through new (older) eyes I only see someone who does not see what I see and at first I feel wiser, but then I remember that if I don't understand her then I must not be able to see what she sees, either.

I worry about this, sometimes. All things wither and die in their cycles, sands take form and are swept away but I still like to think some part of me is always reaching up, always and forever. Some part of me understands, and is determined to understand, forever.

I feel like when I 'get it' I understand that she is me, and that I am still her. Sometimes I bend time-space with calculations using variables representing inconceivable units. Sometimes I feel like I'm there, and everything is plugged in, and I have the proper cables and the universe and I are aligned and now I can fly, or swim, be a superhero or something equally fantastic. At least, I can open my soul to you and with some strange alchemy transform words into the rarest sampling of my most perfect, true, humiliating and illuminating moments in time, and circumstance, and chance. At least, I can relive at will every moment savored in my recent life. At least I can travel through time. No big deal.

Sometimes I struggle with wanting to climb mountains while equally also liking it just fine on the ground. Sometimes I think there are things I'll never be able to do in a million years. I used to grieve over the realization that I would get older, and at a certain point, I would no longer have the potential to do certain things. I suppose this is the lamentation of every being that is programmed to strive.

The system is faulty, but not broken. The game is not winnable, but still fun. What would happen if I reject the notion that I am not who I am and just adopt the persona of my wildest imagination? Would it be all fun and games? Would it be a nightmare?

Am I doing it right now, as I type this?

I was telling a story to someone I had just met yesterday. I have a story for everything. I could write about an empty can, and make it mean something to me. My memories have engineered an intricate road map that navigates me through the complexity of being alive, and the older I get the more these roads pave and I can maneuver life's events with increasing grace and ease. A librarian has categorized every memory by vintage to be mulled, cured, aged and perfected for exactly the right moment. I must pay attention to the moments around me because magic only happens when all the elements are able to make it to stage for curtain call.

Making something out of nothing takes moxie, but we do it every day and all the time. We enlighten, entertain, enrage and intrigue each other. We excite and enjoy and disgust and manipulate each other with our stories.

There is a myth I have constructed, that I am a mediocre and insignificant person. She follows me like a ghostly asterisk on every epiphany, constantly reminding me that nothing I say matters, and nobody wants to hear it. I have dreams and also actual moments in my life when I try to tell people something, but they didn't hear me and I feel invisible.

No one wants to go unheard. No one wants to be invisible.

I let this person exist, the one that reduces contrast in my dynamic life and makes it all look grey. Like an asshole.

As my paths become beaten I watch the grass die beneath my feet. The more I trudge in the same direction the muddier the ground, and my steps become labored. I no longer get lost but sometimes I look at the ways I have not gone, green patches, pure and untouched and I feel that like a beast, I have destroyed what was once beautiful.

It makes me think of the burning cane fields... the soot, and the smell. It makes me think about how we burn acres of plants to the ground, and kick dust into our childrens' lungs so we can put sugar into our tea. We humans find so much of what we do ugly and despicable. It makes me wonder how we got to be so self-loathing, and what could possibly happen if we all forgave ourselves for being human. Something tells me it would be quite transforming, in an upward sort of way.

What is the future of story?

What is the future of story?

"In the digital age, people are reading less fiction, but this is because they've found new ways to jam extra story into their lives--on average we watch five hours of TV per day, listen to hours of songs, and spend more and more time playing story-centric video games. I think we are seeing, in video games, the birth of what will become the 21st century's dominant form of storytelling. The fantasy lands of online games like World of Warcraft attract tens of millions of players, who spend an average of 20–30 hours per week adventuring in interactive story. Players describe the experience of these games as "being inside a novel as it is being written." In upcoming decades, as computing power increases exponentially, these virtual worlds are going to become so attractive that we will be increasingly reluctant to unplug. So the real danger isn't that story will disappear from our lives. It is that story will take them over completely."

- Jonathan Gottschall, Author, "The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human"

Blue Moments

"Life gives us all moments- I call them "blue moments" - where the brilliant light shines through the ordinary moments in our ordinary days. They come unsolicited and unannounced, and provide us with the gift of significance and, if we are lucky, the opportunity to serve.

What is important to remember is these ARE gifts-, and that we cannot receive them if we are not open to them. We need to listen closely, watch closely, and take not to rush past or through them when they arrive. They are the fabric of our lives, and they will weave themselves with complexity and beauty if we give them time to do so." - Kent Nerburn

after some bukowski

I'm trying to write and I feel like I'm choking, like my throat is dry and I am tired and what I have to say probably doesn't matter that much, anyway. I want to say that I never really thought it mattered, but some part of me does, anyway.

It's true, I am a little bit of a narcissist. But your mother was always right, those of us who exude confidence are the ones who have painted the picture around themselves that everything is exactly as it should be. They are magicians of their own mind, and their extraordinary delusions make them absolutely fascinating.

I like to imagine worlds where words mean different things, like a world in which systematic murder is a really great thing, or a world in which you were punished for trying to save each other. I don't mean to be dark, it's just an honest question- what would people be like, if these were the rules?

I am not totally sure what a lot of the rules are, here and now. Delusion is a strange thing and it's dangerous territory. As I try to understand the context of my actions from as many different perspectives as possible, part of me just likes to believe that this library of perspectives has morphed into this monstrous meta-perspective all covered in tattoos, and veiny and totally kick ass.

It likes to imagine worlds where things are different, where people use their interconnectedness to make the world a better place. It likes to imagine a world where we could be proud to be human beings again. And I don't mean to be naive, it's a serious question - what would people be like if these were our goals?

I see the world through a filter of awesome experiences and tragedies and reckonings. I see it happening. I have been many mythological versions of myself and from where I am sitting, my life has been like riding a roller coaster on a day when the conditions are perfect and you're still young and naive enough to feel like you might die, so your body is marinating you in chemicals that make all the atoms in your body want to fuck all the atoms in the universe.

on growth: upward, outward, inward

This year I thought I would try out growing up, so I've been taking things a lot more seriously- which is, in truth, actually a whole lot more fun than it sounds.

What do I mean? I mean that I scoff less at people who I think are being ignorant, or needy, or mean, or otherwise imperfect because I know that sometimes I am also ignorant, needy, mean and otherwise imperfect.

I mean I don't get angry as much about the state of our country, or about the problems handed to my generation cultivated by the mistakes of past generations. Instead, I try to use the resources now available to me to come up with considerate and educated solutions, and I try to give the people in my life the hope, strength and tools they need to do it, too.

I do this because things may have been handed to us in this condition, but it's OUR world now- ours to change in a way that only we can. We may not be able to see the impact of the work we do in our lifetimes, but we can take steps in a positive direction anyway, if we want to.

We can care about it, ourselves and each other if we want to. Because there is something luminous about what sort of spirit lives in the hearts of those who left the world a better place than they found it. It's something beautiful and it makes everything worth it.

I work a lot more, and I mess around less. I used to hate the idea of putting effort toward something other than my own pursuit of pleasure. My idea of freedom was not what it is today. I work a lot. I take my job seriously, I'm proud of the work I do. I have a lot less time to do nothing (or at least have the option of doing nothing). But I am free to live a purpose-filled life, and I am free to do it in creative, unconventional and heart-warming ways. I work, and I get tired, but it's the Good Work, like I said I would do years before I understood what it meant, back when I only wanted to do it because I knew it was the ultimate source of pleasure.

A lot of things happen that aren't very fun when you grow up, like rent hikes, paperwork, budgets, moving furniture, sick kitties, pink eye, and car troubles. We get parking tickets and have to do responsible things like actually pay them, along with a bunch of other bills I used to ignore until they became a bigger problem than they needed to be.

They're not really a big deal, though. That's up to us, right? What's the big deal?

Alex and I aren't rich, or famous, or royalty but we live a life of great privilege, and I am thankful for being aware of that. We have our health, and jobs we love. We have families that we miss because they are so great and such an important part of our lives. We have old friends and new friends that we appreciate and two cats that we love to care for. We live in a beautiful place, and most of all, we have each other to share it with.

None of these things are without their sacrifices and stresses. All of these things take a lot of effort to have, and to keep. I'm thankful for finally having the common sense now that I'm older, to realize that self-pity is a waste of time. No one owes me a happy life- it's up to me to recognize the privileges I have, and to recognize that my choice to pursue a happy, appreciative life is a privilege in itself.

I still have to deal with just about the same amount of crappy stuff as I did years ago, it all just doesn't seem as huge and overwhelming anymore. Is that why it's called growing up? Maybe the more you mature, the smaller the problems appear.

Some day, what I've written in earnest here will seem naive to my future self. Things are good right now, so it's easy to feel like I figured out something important. But, I think I really did figure out something important- and I'm sure I will figure out something else equally important when I reflect on these good times years from now, when I might be either weaker or stronger than I am now, because when you grow up you don't shoot up infinitely into the sky, you break down and rebuild like an old New England square... you may not always be at your best, but you'll always have just a little bit more character.

Leaps of Faith

I haven't felt this overwhelmed in a while. To be honest, I haven't felt overwhelmed in this particular way, ever, in my life. Things are changing, but not like they changed before.

At this point in my life I think I'm finally able to see the consequences of the choices I am making. What I mean is, the difference is I finally realize that when you reach out toward something new, when you pursue your hopes and dreams, you transition from an environment full of blessings and faults, into yet another environment, with both of those things, every time and always.

I think there's a good chance I might get hired for my dream job. I try not to get my hopes up, but based on the facts it seems highly likely. At the very least, I'm faced with the possibility of it and now, I am thinking about it. As always, my future is just on the horizon and I am envisioning possible trajectories, which is a very human thing to do. As one of my best friends put it, things could be worse. Things could be stagnant.

What may happen if I get hired is unimaginable. I would have a full time job doing something I love in the only place that ever felt like home to me. What may happen if I do not get hired, is also unimaginable. I just know that no matter what, great things are on the horizon.

I love so many people, and I am so loved. I can't tell you how satisfying this is to me, but you probably know because you are loved, too. It feels really good to know this, and it seems like a really simple thing to understand, but its taken me my whole life to really know this.

How can you lose, then? What can you do, except be happy, be a better person and know your own beauty the way you know the beauty of those around you. Look at us broken, flawed things. Look how perfect we are. Sometimes I can't even stand it and I think my heart is going to burst and I mistake it for pain, and I'm threatened by it.

I am scared. I know how much I am going to miss my family, and most of all, how much I am going to miss Alex. My life without him, just doesn't shine as bright. I used to be afraid of relying on a person like that. But after all we've both gone through, we are brave and our hearts are strong, but more importantly our hearts are strong for each other. It's not that he makes me invincible, it's that he makes me aware of my own invincibility.

I'm scared because even though I am going to be doing something wonderful, in a wonderful place with wonderful people, I will have to let go of some other wonderful things. I won't get to have pedicures and dinner and yogurt with my mom and talk about how we're both growing up and moving into different phases in our lives. I won't get to have beer and play games with my brothers. I won't be a short plane ride away from my Boston family and I won't be able to spend the summer at Riverside with Alex and the Bishops.

Maybe I'm not so much scared as I mourn the loss of those possibilities. But I've made decisions like this before, and they have made me who I am, which is someone I don't regret becoming. I made the choice when I was 13 to stay in Fort Worth with my grandparents to go to Country Day School. I gave up the remainder of my childhood with my mother and watching my brothers grow up. But I don't even know who I would have become if I hadn't made that choice, and it was the right choice, because here I am and I love you, and I know that I am loved.

I have to let go. I have to be patient.

I was thinking earlier today as I was rushing around waiting tables to make sure my customers did not have to wait long, that patience is really the most valuable thing you could ever learn.

I was just thinking, everything around us tells us to hurry. We want to do things faster, have things sooner, and get from point A to point B as efficiently as possible. But who is it that decided that the efficient way was the best way? Most of the time, it isn't. When you want something done right, it is probably much more likely to happen when it is done with consideration, and not in a rush.

I know that most of my sadness is coming from knowing that I won't see Alex for a while. I miss him so much. Moving across the planet from him is the last thing my heart wants to do. Every day I wish I could hold him.

But I know that taking this job is the right thing to do, because loving someone means that you love yourself enough to know that you need to make decisions based on what will shape you into the best version of yourself, and just have faith that if you belong with someone, your paths will find each other. I will always be looking for him. And I know we will find each other, it just might not be soon. So I guess, it's more a matter of impatience than anything else. Impatience is what makes these tears fall down these cheeks.