Stir a pot of berry wine
on stove stoked full and high.
Rise a loaf of breaking bread
so baked full of our sigh.
Humble, come to table
sure of nothing but this: that
when we eat our sighs together
we then dance around our flat.
Letter Writing
I had an urge to write tonight. I sat down at the computer and stared.
Write something–to somebody, but no vague person. I wanted to write to an audience that had intrigue and fostered intrigue. The amorphous blogosphere could not handle my request.
I wrote a letter. I wrote a letter to somebody. I wrote with specific details and personal affect. I wrote with intention. I wrote with question marks. I wrote in parentheses.
I wrote it, sealed it, mailed it. Now I wait for a return.
When returns come, they come full force. They come in tangible thought inked over pages of fluttering, nervous wonder. And answers? There are answers, but they bring questions alongside them anyway.
I wrote a letter today. I will write one tomorrow, too.
Confession #3: The Bachelor
Things I learned while watching The Bachelor:
- Be open.
- Sometimes love really is like skydiving, repelling down a building, etc; you really do have to leap off of some internal ledge.
- Speaking what’s on your mind makes a world of difference; if you see something good, say something good.
Things I learned while watching The Bachelorette:
- Your gut can be wrong.
- You have to hear the words, not just speak them.
- A good guy knows how to take a deep breath, look you in the eye, and say something real. Then, a keeper will act on it.
- There is definitely something to be said for consistency.
These may not be hard and fast rules to live by. I am clearly not an expert on relationships. TV is clearly manipulated and manipulative.
However, there is some truth here that I would do well to remember in the coming months. Someone once asked me about my weaknesses in relationships and I said, “This little heart of mine.” I said it right off the cuff, but it was so true. My heart seems to get me into as much trouble as is does reward. My heart just goes for it, gets beat up a little, and gets scared. So the next time an opportunity arises, my heart shies away. I sometimes wonder if I’ve missed somebody on those off times.
Of course, it’s all in God’s time and good time and all of that, but as summer really starts to rev up, I think I’m ready to go again. Despite the hang ups and the confusion and the crazy feeling of being a contestant in my own life, here I am. I’m running off my own tower of insecurities with only a little hope to get me safely back to the ground. Hope that I want to employ to keep my heart open to someone who could be a real, true parachute.
Here’s a bit of a song from a few years ago:
I choose to dive to the ocean, running right off of this mountainside.
Yes, I know you don’t think love has wings for a heart my size.
But I still want to know just how far I’ll go
If I fly a little, try a little.
Watch me fly.
I guess some things just don’t change about a person.
*Insert* of Reconciliation
A number of years ago a very dear friend of mine introduced me to a little something she called “chocolate of reconciliation.” Whenever she and her then boyfriend (now husband) had it out, the best way they resolved the issue was with a bar of Ritter Sport Chocolate. Within a day, one of them would be gifted chocolate and a note on their bed, the kitchen table, at work, in the car, or in a hug at the top of the apartment steps.
As her roommate, I took to this sort of sacrament on a regular basis. I’m sorry I broke another wine glass. I’m sorry I tracked mud through the apartment again and stepped on your favorite shirt. I’m sorry I always steal your computer to use the internet. I’m sorry I didn’t wash the dishes again. I’m sorry I’m such a crank all the time; I’m sure it has nothing to do with my dissatisfaction working 12 hours days at the salon down the street and living above an Irish pub in Chicago. I’m sorry we live above an Irish pub in Chicago–in Wrigleyville.
When we moved on from our actually sweet and precious time in Wrigleyville, she to be married and I to start substitute teaching in my teensy Minnesota hometown, I took her policy of reconciliation with me. Through more roommates and more self-indulgent mistakes, this funny, little odd bit of sincere humility became one of the most significant catalysts for my personal growth. It’s much easier to race to an apology knowing that there is chocolate at the end of the conversation. It’s alot like the positive reinforcement I use in the classroom. Reward, reward, reward for good behavior.
Yesterday, however, I totally crossed the line. I’m growing, but I’m far from perfect. I completely lost my cool in the 100 degree-plus humidity weather we were having in Minnesota. I said words that really had no place in a loving friendship. It wasn’t cursing or yelling or vulgarity, but it was simply driving in the thorn where I knew it would hurt the most.
I walked out of the room at that point and spent the night folding jeans at the mall. Oh, Lord, what will I do now? There is no chocolate for this one. (This is why I often pray for the Lord to shut my mouth.) I folded, I prayed, I drove around, I went home, I watched The Bachelorette, I wrote a poem about heat, I tried to sleep. I blogged.
In the morning, the heat hadn’t really subsided and neither had my disappointment in myself. I tried to keep myself quiet enough to find a solution that meant more than sorry. I turned off the car radio and it hit me–a pedicure of reconciliation. By the end of the school day everything was arranged and I sent my dear friend with a wad of cash and good will to the salon. It was perfect and no other words needed to be said. (Although I did make her read the poem I wrote about heat to help explain my crazy head.) All is well again.
When at a loss, reconcile. Do it quickly, sincerely, and add a light gift. I think this helps us realize that it’s not really “us” that’s so crazy it’s just that sometimes we loose our heads momentarily.
Diffusing Strength
I work with high school students and I learn something new every day. Sometimes they teach me lingo, sometimes they teach me hand shakes, but most often they teach me about being a person.
The other day I learned that groups with pull are really threads that have braided themselves together. This makes the group strong and influential and sometimes very scary. The thing is that each part of the braid joins the group for its own reasons. In fact, people group together for reasons they may never share with one another.
- I’m lonely.
- I’ve had a bad day.
- I want to be in control.
- I want to laugh with you.
- I want in (on the joke, on the cool, on the love…)
- and any other reason you can come up with.
When people act together, they become something other than themselves. They become a unit that sometimes can be seen as only a one-purpose unit. This makes it really hard to reach individuals and have personal impact. The solution, of course, is to engage each part of the group as individuals from time to time. Not only does this strengthen the individual, but it also strengthens the whole.
When personal needs are met (you have a leader, you have a place, you are the joy, you are the cool), the group purpose becomes less about meeting personal goals and more about meeting group goals. I want my choir, as a whole, to perform excellently. In order to do that, each member must be recognized and addressed individually.
I learned all of this while having one-on-one conversations with some really talented and unique individuals. Each one shared a surprising and different reason for being a part of their own influential group. Each reason was deeply personal regardless of the commonalities in their group. I never would have guessed that diffusing the strength of their group would make such a huge impact on the morale and strength of the greater team.
There is, indeed, strength in numbers, but it must include a healthy dose of personal resolve.
Take Notes
After a lengthy conversation with my sister, this is what was determined:
“The first bridge you have to cross will always be the one you haven’t crossed yet.”
“The ones that decided had more success.”
and finally,
“Dig in and let go.”
These bits of advice could be applied to a great many situations, but we were really talking about relationships of all sorts. Sisters, friends, parents, co-workers. There is no getting past the beginning, the middle, or the end except to walk right through–converse right through it.
Decide to be present, decide to say what needs to be said, dig in and let go. Soon enough, you will be on the other side of the first bridge. Then, of course, you’ll have to cross another.
She and Me: A Sisterly Conversation
Basement Couch Publications
(c) 2011
HelloGiggles and Me
Even though I’m somewhere near the 2,500th person to “like” this site (officially unofficial), I still feel like I’m buying something without spending money. (That number is small when you think of the whole world–I like to think well of myself.) Oh, well, it’s still totally me to be liking the following:
HelloGiggles.com brings a fresh “let’s live like it’s 1950 without all that humdrum housewifely oppression business” vibe to online community-izing. (You know what I mean.) What I mean to say is that there are a lot of girls out there who like to dress in knee length, plaid skirts and ballet flats and drink tea every night who have needed a lady like place online to you know, discuss. I mean, let’s chat, ladies! I myself, look terrible in knee-length plaid, but I did buy ballet flats the other day at the, gasp, GAP. Hey, they were 40% off. And on a side note, I got a compliment on them.
True story: Saturday night, I’m playing cards with a bunch of guys and one says to me, “I like your mocassins. They look hard to walk in.” The teacher in me escapes with, “They’re actually called ballet flats and ballerinas wear them to dance in so I can’t imagine how they could be hard to walk in.” (Good Lord, why must I be so feisty and combative and always right?) “Oh, I mean, like hard. Like do they have cushions?” “Oh. Yeah, these have cushions. They are very comfortable. Thank you for liking them.” (This is me trying to crawl back into my cute and adorable skin.) He then asked me what year I graduated—from high school. HelloGiggles tells me that means he is too young to date. I concur and concede, as cute as he was. Onward.
The site is all about everything we ladies love: hair, how to tips, wearing the same pair of pants three different ways, ways to treat ourselves, and prescribing advice to one another about the previously mentioned topics and everything else you have ever talked about while riding home after a day at the beach with the boys. The only thing it’s really missing is a spiritual aspect–although one post did mention getting caught up with “Oprah’s body shape through the years” or something.
How could I not enjoy a little fun in the sun, ice tea on the porch talk with Zooey Deschanel (I believe, currently yet to publish a post on her own site) and a posse of her real (Sophia Rossi and Molly McAleer) and internet girl friends? (Some contributors seem to be 12 and 10 years old. I’m not sure how that works, but I’m not really up on this networking thing.)
Here’s one post to get you started, but this site is not all about singleness. Single Girls Guide. It’s simply not an old boys’ club.
In the end, it’s good to be a classy girl and Zooey knows that.
To Do With You
dance to a country song
go to an ice bar
walk along the sea
lay on some grass
hold hands at a coffee house
play checkers
sit on a bench in paris
talk about our fears
lose ourselves in the presence of Mumford and Sons, or some other group of enthusiastic and qualified players,
or simply record ourselves losing it,
or simply just lose it
There is so much more…
There is so much more that I haven’t shared.
Things that happened just today–
a new job, a complicated up set,
a set of sneakers that need to be run.
When my heart is spilling over with heavy
trains and paths and joys,
I only want to sit and share
there is so much more than what you
have seen or read or heard or thought.
And I know there is more of you.
When do we get to dive in?
No Reservations
I was so silly to hold back all the things I wanted to say. Why was I hoarding the compliments, the joy, the admiration, the love? Because I was afraid it wouldn’t be returned? Because I was afraid I might change my mind? Because I was afraid the sentiment would fade in six months time?
At some point, I flipped the switch. I gave up on fear and anxiety. They were getting me nowhere. Being reserved only gave me a seat at an empty table. So without reservations, I began to cheer and encourage. To spray beautiful remarks at any passerby I encountered. Great shoes! What a beautiful name! I’m so glad you’re here! There is nothing like the sound of your voice. I’m glad you are doing well today.
And then came joy. And then came trust.
Naphtalia 