Vagabond

I missed the bus that day and he offered to buy another ticket at the platform; when I thanked him for his generosity he said it was just a couple bucks. His face was young but long, deep lines crossed his forehead as he smiled, handing me the stub. I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that I was avoiding something, couldn’t think through the noise and the Thai phrases I didn’t understand. All I knew was that I needed that ticket to keep me traveling keep my body ambling on unfamiliar land.

The bus came; every vehicle I rode like that carried me further away from my responsibilities, the bills to pay, the goals that seemed to beat my will; offering up some vagabond existence with a backpack and clearer thoughts to fill. I sat next to the window and that man. After a while he turned in his seat and started sharing stories with me. He talked about his daughter, Janine: a genetic disorder had made her right side weak. At three months old she had a stroke from the tumor in her brain.    

He said soon after he developed the same disorder and almost never woke up from his hospital bed. Three months of rehab released him but Janine’s tumor was still growing in her head. At two years old she went into a coma on Christmas Eve; they predicted the hemorrhaging would cause a lot of pain. On Christmas day she woke up and the doctors removed the left side of her brain. I listened to his stories quietly as he wiped his eyes, suffering in his memories. His voice shook.

With palms raised skyward he explained she was thirteen when the driver lost control of the van and rolled it six times off the highway, ending her life hardly after it began and killing her with four other members of his family. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said sadly he sure missed her smile. The tumors came back for me, he went on, and now I live not knowing when they’ll take my life. I hope to die doing what makes me happy. I nodded my head trying my best to offer him my empathy.

He said something about simply suffering without an obligation to praise the cause of it. He trusted God once but he couldn’t warrant the nonsense anymore, couldn’t understand why the nonsense was permitted. Who wanted to know the fatal good and evil with such a high cost to it? I felt the weight of his question drying up like concrete in my soul. He said the whole world of knowledge was not worth the tears of his baby girl, her maimed walk, or the cruel impact killing his family. If God loved us, then how could he let it happen?

I could only shrug, remain quiet, and look away. I felt ashamed I couldn’t think of anything more significant to say. There we were framed in awkward silence and I wished my silence sounded a lot more like God. I could feel his eyes questioning me sadly. My suffering was not the same but I was human too and could easily have that tumor in my brain. If it was compassion that saved us, then I shared the suffering of every person in the world: and the world was right there inside that bus. He smelled a lot like sweat and we sat there a long time.

Finally the bus pulled to a stop and I made my escape, cringing at my own incompetence. He stepped off to light a cigarette. His hands couldn’t stop trembling and he broke into a sweat. I didn’t have an answer for him, it was more than my words could say; I vaguely wished that somehow I could pay for his ticket if not all the suffering he’d never forget. But I could see my bus was leaving and travel was on my mind. I was thinking of new locations away from my own obligations; I planned to leave them all behind. Like a lot of people now, I hoped to change my place.

That was almost a year ago and now I stand here sharing his story and I still can’t state my response. Because it’s my words that make my answers weak. I could say I hear you brother and I’m sorry, but words don’t mean so much. I still don’t feel my body’s mortality; I think I have a long life to live, but in reality…I see her tiny broken body leaning sideways as she tilts her shaven head to look up into his face; I see her soft eyes, the smile he misses so much. And I left hoping someone would be more than my empty words to him; I hoped he’d accept a ticket at a different platform.

...

A special thanks to you, Tobias, for sharing your story

...

{dm}

I read the poem out loud in chapel:
to watch go to 42:40

Walden on Wheels: On the Open Road from Debt to Freedom

Challenging one to grapple with the status-quo and rethink the college doubter's plight, Walden on Wheels offers a delightful and unarguably insightful read as Ken Ilgunas retells his journey from average indebted graduate to liberated vandweller. Yet, it's about more than just living in a van. Through experiences and intentional introspection, Ilgunas single-mindedly cultivates a subculture of his own, devoid of society's expectation and unnecessary material assets to choke him down.

// Some highlighted quotes // 

{they're long but absolutely worth reading. please, do!}

"The voyage was teaching me how unexceptional I was and how exceptional the human mind and body is. What wonders the human mind and body are capable of achieving! How so few know how much we can do! Our limits are merely mirages on the far side of the lake--we can see them ahead, but that's all the are: mirages. Our real limits are beyond the scope of our vision, beyond the horizon, a boundary worthy of our exploration" (p. 117).

"When we accept a gift, I thought, sometimes we don't just acquire a debt but an identity. Taking a gift can be like taking a sizzling-hot brand to the backside. The giver gives us a marking, a bubbling scar that only the brander and branded can see. It's a mark of dependence" (p. 222).

"Reading sixteenth-century French poetry, suffering through Kant, and studying the finer points of the Jay Treaty may seem to be, on first appearance, completely, utterly, irrefutably pointless, yet somehow in studying, discussing, and writing about these 'pointless' subjects, the liberal arts have the capacity to turn on a certain part of the brain that makes us ask ourselves questions like: 

Who am I?  What's worth fighting for? Who's lying to us? What's my purpose? What's the point of it all? 

Perhaps many students would rather not be irritated with these questions, yet being compelled to grapple with them, it seems, can make us far less likely to be among those who'll conform, remain complacent, or seek jobs with morally ambiguous employers" (p. 243).

"Discomforts are only discomforting when they're an unexpected inconvenience, an unusual annoyance, an unplanned-for irritant. Discomforts are only discomforting when we aren't used to them. But when we deal with the same discomforts every day, they become expected and part of the routine, and we are no longer afflicted with them the way we were...Give your body the chance to harden, your blood to thicken, and your skin to toughen, and you'll find that the human body carries with it a weightless wardrobe. When we're hardy in mind and body, we can select from an array of outfits to comfortably bear most any climate" (p. 255).

Ken Ilgunas

"We need so little to be happy. Happiness does not come from things. Happiness comes from living a full and exciting life" (p. 258).

"Envy is a bitter fruit, but one that only grows when we water it with the nourishment of society. Remove society, and it will wither on the vine" (p. 258-259).

"[O]ne must confront the very beasts and chasms that haunt our dreams, block our paths, and muffle the voice of the wild man howling in all of us, who calls for you to become you--the you who culture cannot shape, the you who is unalterable, uncivilizable, pure. You" (p. 272). 

..
{dm}

Zen Things

“One day, a long time from now you’ll cease to care anymore whom you please or what anybody has to say about you. That’s when you’ll finally produce the work you’re capable of.” — J.D. Salinger

Transitions are hard. The innate human resistance to the unknown make leaving and moving onto something else alluring yet also terrifying.

Graduating from college/moving out of the parents' home is one of the biggest transitions a young person will make. Finding a job, a place to live, and the right people to love are choices we all face. Sometimes they seem less like choices though and more like ultimatums. I don't know where I'm going to be in less than a year and that worries me.

Is following dreams just too unrealistic in today's world? As far as my major goes, I chose what I enjoy doing most, English Writing. Yet, the cold realities of unemployment prompts my uncertainty. Am I like the little kid who wants to be a fireman because he gets to drive the big red trucks with flashing lights and screaming sirens?  

These are the questions I pondered while washing dishes for hours in a grungy kitchen in the back of a restaurant.

I was soaked up to my elbows in brown dishwater and my shift wasn't even half over. As I plunged my hands into the oversized sink and loaded dishes onto a rack, I thought about happiness. I carried the loaded try over to the dishwasher and ran them through a washing cycle. As I waited, I unloaded some clean trays. I had developed a technique for stacking the trays; I could take them off the rack four at a time, which I found impressive.

As gross as the job could be at times, in a strange way I had come to appreciate it. It was physical labor. I was active and on my feet, constantly moving. I liked that. I also liked the people I worked with. I liked being an essential part of a larger enterprise.

I began rinsing the silverware, squinting so the high-pressured stream of water wouldn't gush into my eyes, although it was soaking me everywhere else. At that moment, I realized I was happy. I knew exactly what I was supposed to do, and I knew I was doing it well. It was an incredibly simple, thankless task but the rest of the cafe needed me in order to operate.

It's in these instances that I realize I'm going to be okay. Perhaps it doesn't matter what we do, so much as the attitude in which we do it.

Maybe I'll never become a writer, save for the thoughts I share here. Or, maybe I'll go on to start my own publishing company, who am I to say? Perhaps the importance lies in not valuing titles too much; as if becoming a CEO or earning a Ph. D. will bring more happiness, guaranteed. I don't plan on washing dishes for the rest of my life, but that kitchen has taught me that happiness doesn't necessarily hide in a corporate office or a perfectly furnished apartment in New York.

Being less can actually fulfill us more. You have little, but then again, you have little to lose. If people look down on you or call you lazy or inept, they simply haven't realized the value in doing less and living simply and being simple.

..
{dm}

The Perfectly Bearable Anonymity of Being

"When a society is rich, its people don't need to work with their hands; they can devote themselves to activities of the spirit. We have more and more universities and more and more students. If students are going to earn degrees, they've got to come up with dissertation topics. And since dissertations can be written about everything under the sun, the number of topics is infinite. Sheets of paper covered with words pile up in archives sadder than cemeteries, because no one ever visits them, not even on All Souls' Day. Culture is perishing in overproduction, in an avalanche of words, in the madness of quantity."

The Unbearable Lightness of Being, p. 103
By Milan Kundera
Published 1984

I haven't read this book, but it's high on the list of the many I want to. Regarding the book as a whole, I have nothing to base my opinions on besides this quotation, which will leave me either misinterpreting or simply reinventing his thoughts in my own way. 

Freedom or paralysis is inevitable when realizing the daunting "madness of quantity" in this world. For me, paralysis came first. I've been really hung up on this recently. I believe we underestimate the sheer quantity of everything out there; we know, but we don't truly believe. 

The madness of quantity keeps going on and on infinitely in all areas of life. No matter how diligently I aspire toward any specific goal, I will always be met with competition. I will always find someone farther ahead who knows more and can do better.  

Freedom, in its brilliant simplicity, was when I realized...that doesn't matter. In fact, it's better that way. 

The world became a richer place, in my opinion. It's like listening to music just to listen to it, without caring who wrote it, or who's singing it. Instead, to just take in the pleasurable ebbing and flowing of the harmonies and melodies as they collide, creating sounds that miraculously communicate meaning to me.   

Fame is the modern equivalent of immortality. To be heard, seen, or recognized--anywhere--prevents one from disappearing altogether. American society is built on a competitive culture, a culture that is spreading dangerously fast. Recognition, in whatever form, is just another part of the game. 

Yet, there is basis for wanting to be discovered. As Kundra pointed out, so much has been lost due to sheer numbers and inescapable anonymity. Not all can be famous.

I would argue there is absolute freedom in anonymity. When I can embrace my wisp-like existence, I am left content. It is true, my highly time-invested senior thesis will be buried in a cemetery of countless others after next year. There's not much I can do about it but embrace the process, learn, grow, stretch myself, and not worry about its impact on the world.  

Perhaps this is how I would define art (of life and other things): the creation of something for it's own sake, not your own or anyone else's. 

When my expectations dissolved, so did the person I was "meant to be". Somehow, this mysterious presumption had adhered itself to the back of my mind like superglue. I was convicted I really needed to go out with a bang. As a result, I spent a lot of time wearing myself out and feeling disappointed, guilty, and ashamed. Inevitably, I was failing (already!). 

Accepting one's mediocrity shouldn't equate to depression and purposelessness. Quite the contrary, actually. I strive to forget about myself. When I am taken out of the picture, there is nothing left. Nothing, except a pure, translucent reflection of the real Creator Himself. He is the noun, I am the verb. 

Dear reader, I encourage you (as well as myself), to enjoy the act of doing not being; of writing, not being a writer; of running, not being a runner. When the verb becomes a noun that identifies who you are, it changes your perspective. It confuses you. It limits you. Are you a mother, or are you mothering? Do you see the difference? One confines into a subjective definition (one that should be only His), the other compels into a developing action (one that can be yours). 

Do you define your actions, or do your actions define you? 

The former is merely a perception of who you believe you are; the latter is the reality everyone else actually sees.  

..
{dm}

All In a Day's Run

Since coming home from Asia, running has been my escape. The art of running is challenging and (contrary to popular belief) enjoyable to me. I run to push my physical limitations. I suppose that sounds trite and romantic, I suppose it rather is.

Today I ran farther than I ever have in my collegiate career. I'm becoming an addict of longer distances. This run was a long, long stretch; plenty long for me anyway.

The route I chose took me into town. Somewhere between mile seven and eight I came upon a mother and her son biking from the library. As I was catching up to them, I noticed they stopped at an intersecting road off the main drag. There was no stop sign or approaching car in sight.  

In the state I'm in, restless, craving adventure, wanting to get away, feeling very uninspired, I thought what a shame this was, those two, stopping for invisible traffic. I looked past them at all the other intersecting roads ahead and wondered if they would stop for every single one. Really, how ridiculous.

I began to catch up to them (they were, after all, stopping at all the little intersections). As I passed them, I nodded and smiled, doing my best not to rub in the obvious fact. The little boy, upon seeing me in his periphery, exploded into vigorous pedaling. We were side by side for a couple of seconds, but not long enough for me to think of anything to say. We came upon another little intersection and without hesitation the boy breezed through it.

Yet, only seconds later, he looked over his shoulder toward his mom and slowed down. Being passed by a runner is a blow to anyone's self-esteem, especially atop a bike (with only two wheels nonetheless), but his mother hadn't picked up her speed. She might've even stopped at the intersection.

He disappeared behind me.

I felt a bit sorry for him. Yet, in a lot of ways I could relate to him.

I have (with forced patience) been complying to the expectations set for me. Go to college. Be a good student. Get a degree. And like little intersections off the highway, I can see the expectations ahead: Get a good job. Find the right husband. Have kids...then forget about the job. Be a good Christian (what does that mean, by the way?).

Like that six or seven year-old kid, I'm young. I have a lot to learn. He might have questioned the necessity of stopping, but if one's mother thought one must stop at all the crossings, then that is exactly what one must do. For all these years I've been doing the same. Still, there is a point when you can accept control over your own life, you don't need to keep stopping.

Society's pressure is like a mother with good intentions. "Do this to be safe. Protect yourself. Always be cautious. You need this." I've been questioning the validity of that message. I question the American circle of life. Many others do as well.

We might question it, but we go along with it because we can't see any other workable plan. Even though there might not be anything wrong with this cycle, I just don't think it's a one-size-fits-all type of deal. Just because I'm an American, doesn't necessarily mean I want to meet all the American expectations.

Whatever it is that will finally set me over the edge, I hope I'll have enough conviction of mind to keep going with it, to keep breaking societies rules (when the time is right), and not slow down.

..
{dm}

Poetry and Ritual

A man should stir himself with poetry
Stand firm in ritual
Complete himself in music. 
                      Lun Yu (Confucius)

I'm still writing everyday, mostly poetry. I'm thankful for the hour of my I have to detach from the world and remember what's really important. Sometimes I'm scared to stop, I'm scared to really think about my own life. I feel important when I'm busy. Life seems to have a degree of purposefulness, unlike when I'm not busy. I need to remind myself this is not how I intend to live my life. At college I seem to have no choice, it is the way of this lifestyle. After graduation, however, I am determined to shift my focus. Busy does not equal useful. Writing in solitude, even if it's just half of a page, takes me away from that lifestyle, it also teaches me the importance of practicing a ritual and sticking with it.  

I like to write poetry. What is it about poetry that stirs us? Or does it stir us? Why is the subject of poetry not as popular these days? Who actually pays attention to poetry besides those weird English majors (like me)? Is the soul even able to be stirred anymore? Do people still have souls? It seems poetry is connected in some way to reflection of the self as it relates to every-day life. Good poetry speaks from an exclusively unique and personal point of view, yet this perspective also vibrantly resonates within the spirit of each of us. Perhaps it is an ancient spirit, the spirit of humanity, which we can all relate and connect to in our own way. While poetry is a useful venue, I believe the shared spirit of humankind can best be discovered and understood by withdrawing away from everything and entering into a place of stillness...alone. 

In The Sacred Way, author Tony Jones talks about silence and solitude. He retells a story of a little girl who, when asked to describe silence, answered: 

Silence reminds me to take my soul with me wherever I go.

Yes, a little girl said that. Silence isn't just a good option in life, it is meant to canonize our soul. Or in other words, to refine our spirit. If you're anything like me, however, stillness doesn't just happen. We must be intentional. I've been learning a lot about discipline recently. I've discovered that discipline is choosing to get over that initial feeling of resistance toward doing something we might not always want to do...on a regular basis. Henri Nouwen described the art of discipline in better words: 

In the spiritual life, the word "discipline" means "the effort to create some space in which God can act. Discipline means to prevent everything in your life from being filled up. Discipline means that somewhere you're not occupied, and certainly not preoccupied. In the spiritual life, discipline means to create that space in which something can happen that you hadn't planned or counted on.

Creating space for silence in a culture run by time is like making a cat swallow a pill. Is this a poor analogy? Maybe. Still, if you've ever tried to force a pill down a cat's throat you know exactly what I mean. Just when you think you've succeeded, up comes the stupid small round mass again. Over and over you force the pill in, clamp the cat's mouth shut, slowly count to ten, and let go--only to watch the cat unapologetically spit the thing out on the ground again. So. Frustrating. 

Anyway, I'll try not to ramble. My point is this: It is not easy (nearly impossible) to make cats swallow pills because of the nature of cats--you know their reputation. Think of yourself as the willing participant offering the pill and the cat as the culture (lifestyle) you live in, spiting out your good intentions without a second thought. The cat will hold the pill in its mouth for as long as your hands are there, but as soon as you let go the pill goes out. I think it's inevitable that our good intensions will be spat out until we accept the nature of this culture and look to discover an alternative; perhaps a culture outside this one. We need to recreate our own way of life, a lifestyle in which poetry can actually speak to us, self-discipline free us, and silence truly awaken us. 

As for music? Well...that can wait for another time. ;)

Sincerely, 
{dm}

Into the Wild

“...there are so few with whom I can share the things that mean so much to me that I have learned to contain myself.” ― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

Perhaps the sincerest frustration in life is the inability to communicate anything real. I hate that. Many things hinder me on a regular basis; yet undoubtedly the most tragic is retreating within myself because words cannot communicate meaning, or at least, not in the ways I wish they could. 

Perhaps this is why I write. 

Last night I watched Into the Wild for the first time. It is an inspiring yet tragic movie based on a true story of a young graduate from college, Christopher "Alex" McCandless, who destroys all ties to society, burning his social security card and all of his money, and takes off for the wilderness and the life of a traveler. 

Previously, I wrote a post about Fight Club. I found some very similar themes tied to Into the Wild, such as the struggle against constant security and materialism. I related to Alex, the protagonist, in so many ways. I think we can all relate to Alex, to his dreams of leaving the security and predictablility of this life behind and going on a great adventure. Yet, we often forget we want this. 

Do we really forget, or do we chose not to remember? 

So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.  ― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

Of course, Alex was a young college graduate. Therefore, he had the option of throwing away his former way of life and chasing after the wind. Most of us do not. Most of us have responsibilities to our families. Yet, Alex's worldview is still inspiring. In an age where people are desperate for a sense of security, the assurance of success, and the comfort of financial and material access, I believe we are in danger of losing our humanness. I think we need to break free from the idea that our happiness lies in the things we have or what we accomplish. This theme was evident in Fight Club as well. However, Into the Wild goes even deeper. Alex also warns against finding solace in relationships. He says, 

You are wrong if you think Joy emanates only or principally from human relationships. God has placed it all around us. It is in everything and anything we might experience. We just have to have the courage to turn against our habitual lifestyle and engage in unconventional living. -- Christopher "Alex" McCandless ― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

It's not that human relationships aren't significant. At the end of the story, Alex admits that "...the only certain happiness in life is to live for others..." With that being said, it is important to see the difference between looking for personal joy in relationships and dedicating one's life to live for the sake of others. Seeing the difference can be life-changing. 

Perhaps we find the sincerest means of Joy not in what we do, or in who we are with, or in what we know, but in what is; what is seen and unseen, what is experienced, what is present all around us. I am firmly convinced that Joy can be found in all things, all circumstances. 

I want to communicate this idea to people. I want them to understand they can throw off their conditioned need for security. My friends, your knuckles are turning white, it's time to let go. You are more than your house, your debt, and your name-brand clothes. You're more than the car you drive or the food you eat. You are more than than the church building you go to or the way your husband or wife treats you (or doesn't treat you). 

What rich and profound lives we live, or can live, as humans! I believe we were created to reflect something beautiful, something much greater than a hoarding, rodent-like existence we are sometimes reduced to. It's okay if you don't know what will happen tomorrow. In fact, it's better that way. It is okay if you don't know where your money will come from, or even your next meal. This might sound terrifying, devastating. Yet, when we can embrace the unknown and uncontrolled, we learn to surrender, to live not out of self-preservation, but out of generous, over-flowing hearts that refuse to worry. 

Here I must ask a very difficult question of myself. Perhaps you should do the same:

Do I truly believe that God will provide for me needs? If I say I do, does my life reflect this?

Life is a great adventure, don't ruin it. 

--
{dm}

Yourself + Forty Years

Forty years from now...

...you're sitting in your big comfy chair, alone in the solace of your living room, reflecting back on your life. Yes, you are sitting still. What a deviant concept.

You're wondering where the time has gone and what you have to show for the years you've put in. If you've made it this far, you're at least half way through your life, probably more. You're not in your prime anymore; you don't understand the new generation with its advancing technologies, evolving cultures, and disagreeable new ways of thinking.

You have a lingering sense of nostalgia for the way things used to be. Back when you were young, when you felt like you understood the world a little better, you thought you had so much of your life ahead of you, so much to offer that the world desperately needed.

Yet, you are now forty years older than that day long ago when you read this for the first time. In comparison, you're not the same person anymore. Thinking back, there are so many things you wish you could go back to tell yourself. You have learned so much, but at such tremendous cost.

What is it that you would like to tell yourself, forty years younger? You would say many things.

You shouldn't have been caught up in the monotony of everyday living, because that was not truly life. Life began when you realized the little things shaped you, recreated you, and determined your destiny.

You needed to take a Sabbath. Not just a Sunday ritual but at least one day set aside to be at peace with yourself and separate from the responsibilities of the world.

There are so many things you could've advised! You should've stopped and played more. You didn't need to measure your value by the things you were able to accomplish in a day, in a week, or in a year. No one cares what you did forty years ago. You realize now that life is not a destination. You should've repeated that, over and over. Life is not a destination. Life is not a destination. Life is not a destination. Life is...a journey. Never mind the cliche, it is truth. Why did you try to rush through it? You were not racing.

What if you had thought more of the small picture? When you were young you had big ideals and goals. You didn't see the small needs of others. You did not notice the wandering souls, floundering in their own insecurities, desperate for a confident mentor and friend. You could have been that person for them. Even if you could only change one life, that one life was eternal and infinitely precious. You couldn't see the small needs of love and the starving hearts for someone--anyone--to believe they could make it, that they were worth something, that they were truly appreciated and accepted. Why didn't you look for what others tried to hide?

You were chasing after dreams back then. Perhaps you needed to. You needed to discover that problems are problems, no matter where you live with them. Issues can't be resolved in new and different circumstances, you needed to be honest with yourself and accept that you cannot do everything and be anyone.

You shouldn't have tried to run away from the mediocracy of yourself. You feared you were forgettable, unmemorable. God forbid: you were average. Why were you concerned with whether you were an important person in life? Rather, you should have focused on whether you inspired people to remember, or rediscover who they were, who they could have become, and the beautiful reality that there is a greater Hope outside of themselves and the mundane. You were not memorable, but did your life reflect the One who is?

Fame, recognition, and prestige could not satisfy you, even if you did find them. Maintaining a busy lifestyle forever did not make the pain of loneliness go away. Facing your problems and dealing with them was not desirable, yet always necessary. When you came to terms with the things that hurt you deepest, and sought help in other people, you found healing for your soul. When you didn't try to block yourself off, and willed yourself to rely on others, you felt consolation. You found true companionship when you gave other people the power to hurt you.  

Forty years from now you will flip your calendar and see the date, November 9, 2052. You will not remember this. You will have completely forgotten what you read those many years ago. If you are alive, no matter where you end up, no matter what you've done, at the end of it all, may you say with deep satisfaction you still have a long way to go, thank God. Seeking the Kingdom begins on earth but certainly doesn't end here.

Sincerely,

{dm}

What's a Person to Do...?

Life is not about the future. So why am I so caught up in what I will do someday?

Sometimes I envy the freedom of children. Children don't worry about their past or what is going to happen in their future.

I have compiled a list of things to help me organize my thoughts and live intentionally.

RULES AND THINGS TO LIVE BY:

1. Creativity is a lifestyle (not to be choked out by other, less valuable styles of living). 

2. Live in the moment. This is your only reality. Yesterday does not exist. Tomorrow has never been. The moment you had ten minutes ago is gone forever. All you have is now.

If you must, devote 1 hour of your day to worry about your future and leave the other 23 hours free of any thoughts of tomorrow. 

3. Accumulate experiences, not things. 

4. Do not hold onto dreams and desires too tightly, yet still have faith in their possibility. 

5. Appreciate things you don't do (i.e., not spending money out of compulsion).

6. Give. Even when it hurts. 

7. Accept that growth comes from doing what is most difficult, not what is most desired.

8. Do not pursue happiness.

9. Pursue joy, which is not based on circumstances and comes from within. 

10. Look for things in life that would make a good story. 

11. Acquire a different perspective.

12. Think critically, never just accept the information provided for you. 

13. Never forget the power one person can have. 

14. Compliment others.

15. Do not worry about looking stupid (you know you're not stupid and that's what matters).

16. Make decisions. People are thankful for decisiveness. 

17. Don't waste thoughts. 

18. Drink tea.

19. Don't be ashamed of what you enjoy (i.e., classical music and reading books). 

20. Pray as often as possible. 

21. Take time to listen. 

22. Be slow to speak...

23. Find humor in people's rudeness. 

24. Mistakes do not define you, they refine you.  

25. Keep your notebook updated with the stupid and insightful thoughts that hit you throughout the day. 

26. Don't worry about rejection, embrace it.

27. Never be lazy. 

28. Being bored reflects on the type of person you are. Don't be a boring person and you won't get bored. 

29. Love people without expectation. 

30. Write.
              ...as much as possible 
31. Travel.  

32. Come up with better things to live by. 
--

That's all for now. 

Sincerely, 
{dm}

In the Eyes of the Beholder

beauty |ˈbyoōtē|noun ( pl. -ties)1 a combination of qualities, such as shape, color, or form, that pleases the aesthetic senses, esp. the sight.

You desire to be beautiful. Everyone does. And I'm not just talking women. Don't blame the media, or the innumerable controversial images you are bombarded with daily. In your heart of hearts you long for it.

Initially, we think maybe we just want to look good, but in reality it's something else, something better. Perhaps we don't even know what it is.

I believe we desire beauty in everything. We want to create it, master it, be surrounded by it. Subconsciously we look for it, and if we don't find it, something inside us aches for it. There is goodness in beauty. Beauty emits joy and pleasure. It has the ability to gratify more than merely our sense of sight. It calms, soothes, even comforts our spirit.

Do you agree with me so far?

Good.

Beauty is also a tool. Just like most good things, often beauty is twisted and vain. It is abused, exploited, and manipulated for ulterior motives.

Furthermore, beauty is misunderstood.

Like art, it is difficult to define beauty in its fulness. What makes something beautiful? Are there stipulations? Not in most cases. Different cultures, different people, see beauty differently.

Perhaps it really is in the eyes of the beholder. I have met people who are not physically beautiful by today's standards, and yet their confidence, their joy, their humor, their heart, and their love create in them a greater sort of beauty.

All this to say:

You can find beauty in things that do not seem beautiful. Do not judge too quickly! Do not be oblivious to the presence within the body--the soul. Beauty is not found in the image. The mirror is not our standard, our mind is.

“If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

I hope you find this encouraging! Look for beauty in unexpected places; not only within yourself, but within others.

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Quotes

Thoughts on beauty today. 

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Living Long and Loving it.

I love old photographs. I often go through old family photos, print by print, for the sheer joy of reliving the timeless moments captured so long ago. Honestly, it's like a whole other world to me.

Imagine living in a time where this was a normal part of life:

This is my great, great grandpa sitting on his tomato pant setter. The little boy is my grandpa on the left.

Emerald Dale Corfman: An inspirational, mysterious, and profoundly stubborn individual if I ever knew one. He was born in 1914. He is my grandpa. No, not my great grandpa--he is my mother's father. And to my utter incredulity, he lived in a time when they still used tomato pant setters pulled by horses. And that's not all...

Now, picture driving around in a car like the ones parked along the street:

I'm not kidding, I found this beneath my mom's bed in a forgotten photo album. It looks like one of those vintage postcards...

My grandpa just turned 98 this past June. 98! I'm still trying to wrap my head around how old that is. Here is just a few of the historical highlights he lived through:

1. Hiroshima & Nagasaki

2. Walking on the Moon

3. Peal Harbor

4. First Powered Airplane

5. Women Win the Right to Vote

6. JFK Assassinated

7. Nazi Holocaust Exposed

8. World War I 

9. World War II

10. School Segregation Ends

11. U.S. Stock Market Crashes 

So who is this man? He lived through both world wars? WHAT? Yeah. I know...you wish he was your grandpa too. It is true that many people have and will live to be 98, but not like my grandpa. 

He's an incredible man if you ever get the honor of meeting him. The man is so sharp. He's not in a nursing home, slumped over with dribble on his lip. He's happily living independently on his own. 

My grandpa is an inspiration to me. I've decided if I ever live that long (I hope to), I'm still going to be just as much in love with life as he is.

After observing my grandpa, here are some standards I've decided to keep in mind:   

1. Be stubborn.  Grandpa is and always has been a stubborn man. Not in a bad way, he's just not afraid to speak his mind and express his like or dislike for something. Opinions are good. 

2. Everything in moderation. He likes his sweets and treats, but he never over-does it. He says he enjoys one piece of dark chocolate every day. 

3. Read. Reading is one of Grandpa's favorites. He reads like a champion, sometimes more than a book a week! It keeps his mind sharp, and his imagination too! 

4. Don't let age effect you. I don't think Grandpa considers his age much. "I'm too old" Has never crossed his lips. He just does what he wants.

5. Stay active. Grandpa didn't slow down after retirement. He took care of his big farm until he got up into his mid nineties. Now that he sold the farm, he tells us he gets on an exercise bike every morning to keep his legs strong. 

6. Find something you love. He loves to garden. He used to plant all kinds of things from rhubarb to roses. Nurturing something, watching something grow brings him great satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment. 

7. Engage life. Learning is a part of Grandpa's lifestyle. He is never too old to try something new. The little boy who used to sit on a tomato plant setter drawn by horses now has his own cell phone and computer. He knows how to text and send emails. Did I also mention he lived through the Great Depression? Yeah, he did. 

8. Love family. Let's be honest, family is so much better than social security. I have seen the absolute joy that Grandpa's children and grandchildren have brought to him over the years. Even though I often claim I could never have kids, I know in the end they are the dearest, most invaluable things in life. 

Grandpa with his three daughters

Some father-daughter love. That's my mom next to him!

A man's age is something impressive, it sums up his life:  maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves.  A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.  

~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry 

If you haven't noticed, I'm proud of my grandpa. I'll always be his little granddaughter. :)

Grandpa and I. 1996

**I wrote an essay you can link to in the "My Work"page reflecting my struggle and appreciation concerning my grandpa and the incredibly long life he retains in memories. I encourage you to read it for yourself!

Choices

"Every decision you make takes you in a different direction ... closer or farther away from your goals. Life's a journey, the choice is yours."

Consistency

Feelings change, but love is always consistent. I am thankful for the consistency in my life. Without it, I'd be an emotional roller-coaster. I'd be so lost, unable to find the way out of my unpredictable bursts of desire.

If your hopping that life will eventually get better, or wishing it would be like it was before, stop. The future is just an idea, the past a memory. Life at this moment is reality. Invest in this time. Enjoy the now. You will discover how full life really is.

Wisdom

"Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise.  Seek what they sought."  ~Matsuo Basho

Wisdom is beyond human achievement. It is not a destination. It is a journey. 

"Real leaders are ordinary people with extraordinary determination."

The Principle of Existence

"We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end."- Benjamin Disraeli

If there is no love in the end, then it is not truly the end.

Patience

Patience is a god-like quality. I do not believe it is something humans inherently possess, it must be developed. Patience and confidence are almost synonymous. You cannot patiently wait for something unless you are confident that at some point your waiting will be worth it.

Cowards rush things. Cowards don't wait. They grab whatever they can take from life whenever the opportunity presents itself. They have no confidence that what they experience now will be even better if they hold out longer.

Patience also requires hope. If you have no hope, waiting turns into dread. You must wait quietly, choosing to listen to that small, still voice inside whispering: Don't give up. Don't give in. It will be better tomorrow. 

Every day is a chance to witness things greater than ourselves.

Circumstances

Energy and happiness do not come from comfort. Choosing to draw your energy from your circumstances, whether good or bad, hard or easy, will transform your burdens into wings.