On Flowers

"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant."

-Robert Louis Stevenson

Today in the flower shop, a woman came in just to look around. I greeted her with a smile and told her to take her time. She was an average woman, in a T-shirt and jeans, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was with a man who was a little shorter than her--I greeted him as well and told him to ask if he had any questions. Then I went about some business, letting them browse without hovering over their shoulders.

I heard them talking quietly to themselves as they approached our riser full of fresh cut flowers. "These are just amazing!" the woman exclaimed, putting her hands to her face. I walked over to them, smiling, nodding my head in agreement. "Aren't they wonderful?" I said. And then, as the woman turned to look at me, I saw the genuine love, the care, the kindness behind her eyes. She was completely in awe, carefully bringing the flowers to her nose and smelling them. "Flowers are just glorious," she said. "So amazing!"

I agreed and talked about how amazing it was to work in the flower shop and see all of the new flowers come in, each one just as beautiful as the next. The woman shook her head in awe, and said, "I mean there's photography and there's art, but then there's flowers. Not man-made…God's creation." 

I had never thought about flowers like this before. They are literally God's artistic gift to us. You can make all the tissue paper, DIY flowers you want, but nothing will ever come close to a real, fresh hydrangea. The other day I put my nose to a big, soft, blush pink rose and inhaled the most beautiful scent I have ever smelled. You know those rose sprays people buy to make their bathroom smell better? Doesn't even come close. This was a baby's cheeks, a green field, the warm breeze all gathered together and bottled up into this tender flower.

And here was this woman, seemingly just another store browser, bringing God's amazing creations to the forefront of my mind, making me grateful for my job, for the opportunity to share the beauty of nature with others. "I miss working in my mother's garden," the man said, the first thing I heard him say. I smiled, because he wouldn't be the first one I would peg as a flower lover. "I used to help her when I was little," he explained.

And now I was standing in the flower shop, surrounded by color, by light, by the fresh scent, watching as the woman's eyes filled with tears of joy as she examined each flower--here was something that was bringing us together, the three of us who probably would have never crossed each other's path otherwise. 

They didn't end up buying anything, but I could care less. I helped invite someone else into this world in the store, a world where we live and breathe to create, to make people's day a little brighter. A world where the little kid inside us that likes to make daisy crowns is released and allowed to run free, creating and arranging and making beautiful things.

As the couple walked out, passing the orchids and commenting on their color and how they looked like the monster from Jumanji, I thought about my perspective and outlook on the day. Sure, I'm at work on a Saturday, but experiences like that, that warm my heart and make me experience gratitude? Yep, worth it.

xx mm

Linger

Linger by Maggie Stiefvater

The Girl I Used to Be

"Oh, our futures were written with crayons in coloring books

It was misspelled and outside the lines and we loved how it looked

Like the crooked hem of your favorite childhood dress

And the holes in my jeans from years of carelessness

I know since we've grown, we ache for those memories."

-"Next to Me", Sleeping at Last

Recently, I've been feeling nostalgic for the girl I used to be. It's more than nostalgia, really--its an aching deep down inside that fills me up with tears full of memories, of deep-belly laughs on the lakeshore and secret messages in glass bottles hidden in the bushes, and when they fall they leave a crooked path not unlike the one that we lined with daisies on the way to our fort in the middle of the oak trees. Its a feeling of loss, of longing for that doe-eyed, pure, untouched little girl who gazed upon the world with wonder of why in the world I was lucky enough to be given a life like this to live. I miss the girl who danced in the streets, for the whole world to see. I miss the girl who hated naps because there was too much life to live. I miss the hopes and dreams that I had for myself, when the future was somewhere far off in the distance. But most of all, I miss when I was whole. Before I cracked and pieces of me were scattered to the wind like the dandelions I used to make wishes on. Before people changed, before everyone left, before I curled up inside myself and shut the door.

But I have chosen to live my life with no regrets, always moving forward, taking everything that happens as a learning experience. While I was living my life by myself, behind closed doors, away from the world that my young eyes used to see as so beautiful and magical, I learned some invaluable lessons that have shaped me into a new human being who is growing around and in between the cracks that line my body. People always change and people always leave, but I will always have myself. Cultivating myself, mind, body, and soul, is the most important gift I can give to myself, for the present and the future. And I've been practicing seeing myself as this new person--a young woman who is broken, but is marching on despite of the holes in her heart and in her mind. And as I get further and further away from the pieces I've left behind, the cracks fade a little bit and new me grows in. Its weird to become a new person, but what's really awesome is that the new bits of me are all mixed in with the girl I used to be. She's still there, buried underneath burdens, but she hasn't left. It has taken me years to hear her voice, and I'll never completely be the girl I used to be, but I think a big part of life is becoming okay with that. I don't believe there is some penultimate person I'm "supposed to become." I am forever being molded, being shaped into the best person I can be to the world at that moment. 

The past is no place to live. There is only the present. As I grow outside of myself and learn how to live with the door open again, I catch glimpses of that girl who read stories to her stuffed animals and laid in the grass and tried to count the stars. She is me, and I am her. I have been hurt, sure, but the world is still such an unbelievably beautiful place with opportunity abounding in every corner. I use that as motivation--not some picture of a stick-thin girl with Sharpied on abs or a desired income. No, I choose to believe that no matter what I look like, no matter who leaves me, no matter what my transcript says, that I have so much to give the world and it has so much that it longs to give me in return. The girl I used to be gave me that wonder, that yearning for life, and the person I am becoming will be forever grateful for that.

xx

Memories

“Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don’t go along with that. The memories I value most, I don’t ever see them fading.” 

-Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

I’m sitting on the dock in my backyard, legs dangling in the black water that is sparkling with the reflection of the million twinkling stars above.  I’m counting these stars with a best friend, delirious with fatigue and happiness and the unfathomable depth of the universe. Then we’re singing, belting out some song at the top of our lungs, letting the sound bounce across to the other side of the cove. We look out at the vast lake, and up at the crystal clear constellations, and in that moment, time is nothing and just existing is everything.

I’m standing on the porch, looking down at the lawn (far) below. I don’t remember the thoughts running through my head, but all of a sudden, I’m climbing on the railing. And I’m standing there, toes curling over the edge. I lift my arms up over my head and close my eyes, feeling the vertigo of the black swirling in front of my eyelids, my body willing itself closer to the edge. I open my eyes. And then I jump.

I’m with my family, in an unfamiliar city. Finally, we are all together, after years of being apart. We’re in a limo, for reasons I never really figured out. There’s laughter, and there’s no music, so I’m singing. I lock eyes with my brother for a second, and we both break out into cackles, because somehow we just know that something that’s in both of our heads is funny. And all of a sudden, the car is stopping, the door is opened, and we’re piling out. We’re at a monument of some sort, a monument that is roped off with a sign telling us to look but don’t touch. And then we’re running up the stairs, even my grandma, with the snow swirling around our rosy faces. I pause on the steps as my aunt tells me to strike a pose. After the camera clicks, I’m scrambling up and up, until I’m at the top. Gazing out at the city, and around at the faces of the people I love, I can’t help but smile. And really smile.

I’m laying on a bed, its not mine, it never will be mine. It’s foreign, the room is foreign, the whole place is a land that I don’t want to be a part of. I’m crying, sobbing hysterically all over the scratchy sheets that will never feel like home. I bury my head into the pillow and scream as loud as I can, just to prove to myself that I’m still alive. And no one comes running.

I put my hands to the black and white keys, and then my fingers take over, my muscles guiding them through a familiar melody. I play until I forget, until it’s only me and the sound echoing in the empty room, bouncing against the stark white walls. My fingers move gracefully across the ivory, and I'm amazed at their memory, unaffected by the events unfolding around me. I play until everything fades away. 

I’m running down the halls of my elementary school, feeling a sense of rebellion as I break the one rule that has been pounded into my brain over the years. I don’t have on shoes, and I’m sliding around on the tile in my socks. I laugh as I run faster, stop, and then slide as far as I can. I’m with friends, and they laugh and follow my lead. We pass a teacher, and my heart beats faster with nervousness. But she doesn’t scold—instead, she smiles.

I pull my suitcase over the lump of carpet that has folded up in the corner and walk through the sliding glass doors. My eyes search for a familiar car, but I can’t find it. The warm, humid air is like a big hug welcoming me home. I don’t recognize the car, but then I see her. My mom is still the same, glossy brown hair and beautiful, deep brown eyes that widen when they see me. I quicken my pace, but what is this that I’m feeling? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I drop the suitcase and am embraced in the best hug that there ever was. I crumple into her; every pore of my being feels a sigh of relief. My cheeks are wet but I’m not sad; I don’t know what I am. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m home.

xx

On Dreams

 

"At the end of it, she was still singing."

-1984, George Orwell

You know those moments when you wake up from a nap, and you have absolutely no idea where you are? For a second you feel as though you're having a vision, the room is a blur, and your mind is completely, absolutely blank. As scary as that feeling can be, sometimes I wish I could live in that moment. Like a newborn baby, your mind is completely blank--no thoughts except for when you're going to get your next breath. You've just stepped out of a dream world, and you're in this weird in-between space where real life is some far off stretch of thought that seems intangible. 

So you're lying there, and all of a sudden it hits you: like those giant tidal wave dreams I have, where one wave comes, and you're bobbing up for air, and as soon as you try to breathe in, you suck in salt water from the next giant wave that is crushing you back to the ocean floor. And you try to sit up, but then an even bigger wave is roaring past you, twisting your body in ways that it would never otherwise move, pressing you against the sand, leaking into every pore of your skin. The reason I went to sleep in the first place was to avoid the life that is hurdling towards me as I open my eyes and the desk across the room comes back into focus. But even the dream world wouldn't let me off the hook--gulping in the sea, the pressure of the incoming waves threatened to pummel me into oblivion. 

So I took a nap today. And the tidal waves came. And I had that moment of pure bliss when I woke up, realizing I was free from the ocean but not completely understanding that I was a live, functioning human being who had a to-do list that was lingering on a Post-It note inside a bulging Lilly Pulitzer planner. I'm not exactly sure why I have these dreams, but my psychologist mom has said something about anxiety and feeling like you can't handle everything that life is throwing at you. Well, that's probably true. Sometimes I'm so overwhelmed with life (insert: school, extracurriculars, thoughts, my ever-racing mind…) that I just feel like I'm going to explode. I get hyper-focused on this world that exists primarily to maintain my GPA and stack my resume, and I forget about things like the green grass peaking out from the melting snow and the sound that the birds make as they emerge from their winter-perch on the highest branches. Anyways, so I had one of those freak out moments today where I felt like I was not worthy as a human being because I couldn't focus on my assignments (how do we get these crazy thoughts into our heads, anyways??) so I literally stopped, took a step away from the world, and forced myself to sleep. And then the waves happened, reminding me I couldn't avoid life forever.

But something else happened. Something that reminded me just how far I've come in my journey to accept myself and appreciate my life. After I came to and blinked my eyes a couple times, slowly passing from the dream world, to the blissful in-between, to reality, I started singing. Literally. Something in me just upwelled and I felt like humming a little tune. For some reason, everything I had been worried about before just slipped away and felt like another life ago. Who cares if I make an agreement mistake on my French composition if I can still breathe and walk and tell my parents that I love them? Seriously, life has so much more to offer than red pen marks on a 12 point font, Times New Roman-filled page. So after I sang my little song, I laughed. To myself. For no one to hear but me. And for once, that was enough. 

It was enough to know that I was happy with myself, with my life at the moment. Sure, I may sometimes feel lonely, but I'll always have Me, and Me at the moment was singing. Pretty good company, no?

So if you're feeling like you just can't, like the world is crashing down, like the waves are sucking you under, close your eyes (nap or not) and realize that your life is so much more than this. Spontaneously bursting out into song is a stretch, I admit, but even just cracking a smile can make you feel that much better. Prioritize your happiness, and everything else will fall into place. 

xx

On Angels

"My body is weak, but my soul is still strong."

My heart aches. Every crevice of my body feels for the families, friends, and loved ones of those who have taken their own life because they felt there was no other way out. The importance of keeping mental health at the forefront of your life has never been more apparent than now--four Penn students have died since the beginning of winter break, two of the deaths being ruled as suicide. This absolutely tears me apart. I have such a soft, gentle soul, and it is breaking. I want to run to everyone out there on Locust Walk and tell them they are meant to be here. You have a purpose. You may not know what it is (I am still figuring mine out), but you have one. And I love you. Yes, I dare to say it. I L-O-V-E each and every single one of you, because you are, consciously or not, shaping my experience here. 

I look back on dark times in my past, and I realize just how incredibly blessed I am to have had a group of people around me who truly cared for my health and wanted me to be here--and wanted me to be happy. They lifted me up when I no longer wanted to take part, they prioritized me. And I want to be that for other people. I feel that part of my purpose is to share my experiences, open up, and tell the world that it's okay to feel this way. Not only is it okay, but you have resources, you have help. There is always a way out. It may not be obvious to you, but just voicing your feelings to someone else opens up thousands of other doors you may not have even seen. 

We've all heard the phrase, "Life is hard," but somehow we think that we are supposed to just be able to get through it. Push on, trudge forward, alone. Well, if you're trudging, I encourage you to find someone, anyone, and ask for help. Find me. I will envelop you and take on your burdens and lift you up. And I can only hope that anyone else would do the same.

The only positive that can possibly come out of these recent happenings is a heightened awareness of mental health issues on campus and elsewhere. Speak out. Be the voice. Remember that you have so much to give the world. And appreciate everyone around you, for they are shaping your future and they play a role in your present.

All those we have lost have a special place in my heart. They are angels in my pocket, reminding me everyday that I am not my circumstances, my GPA, or my social ranking. I am me, and I am worthy. I am meant to be here. And so are every single one of you.

xx

New Year

"And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good."-John Steinbeck

Looking back on 2013 brings up a whole load of emotions and memories. Being my last year as a teenager, 2013 didn't exactly bring loads of booze, boys, and other *insert crazy adolescent activity here*. No, while others were busy "living it up" or whatever, I was scrambling to keep my life together (or keep my life at all, really). I think my inner self aged about ten years in the span of the one, and now I'm stuck in this awkward limbo where I simultaneously feel like I'm in my mid-thirties and also like I missed out on my teenage years and want to rewind and do it all again. But then I remind myself that unlike many people do when a new year comes around, I don't want a clean slate. I can't afford to rid myself of all the things that have happened to me in the past year. Without the events that unfolded and the knowledge that I gained, I would be little more than a hollow mannequin, a shell of a person with all my hopes and dreams locked up somewhere deep inside and nothing to offer the world but an empty gaze and a blank stare. 

No, this year I'm not "starting over." Rather, I'm continuing. I'm soldiering on. I am working, working, working--on my self-image, on my identity, on my priorities. When I sat down to think about what I want to focus on in the new year, I thought that I pretty much had my priorities straight. Then I realized that, actually, for as long as I can remember, I have been prioritizing the externalities and the people around me and haven't really given a damn about myself. Like, to the point where my life didn't seem as important as other things. How in the world did that happen? Because without my life, I wouldn't be able to sit down with pencil in hand and make a priorities list in the first place. However my train of thought got there, I'm determined to stop it dead in its tracks and get back on the right path--a path where my health and well-being is front and center. Now, it's not a bad thing to care about others, and I would be fooling myself if I thought that I could tone down my concern for the people I care about. But 2013 has taught me that if I truly want to be able to give my all to others, I need to focus on nurturing my self and becoming confident in what I have to give. It's not fair to the world for me to be anything less than what I am.

Now that is a statement that my brain loooovesss to mix up and twist around and re-write and spit out something like "I have to be the very best I can possibly be in every way." And where, yes, this is true, I should strive to be the very best I can be, I have a tendency to re-focus this from where it really matters, like in the heart, the personality, and the personal effort, and tell myself that being my best means being the best. In school, in extracurriculars, in my choices, on the treadmill comparing myself to the girl next to me, at the table where I kick myself for not sitting up straighter. Yes, my perfectionism runs this deep. In 2014, I want to lose this belief--this belief that my personal best means being perfect. What is perfect anyway? If 2013 taught me anything, it's that perfect is just this myth that everyone creates in their head in order to give them a sense of purpose--something they feel like they need to work towards, to strive for. 

Well, this year I want my purpose to be much more than striving for perfection. Forget non-frizzy hair and a "flat" tummy, screw the wheatgrass shots and the non-scuffed boots and the nail polish that never chips. I don't want to follow the fads; I want to anchor myself in something deeper, something that will last. And I want to learn to embrace all that I am and forget about all that I am not. I am above average height, my laugh sometimes sounds like a hyperventilating donkey, I've got a Kardashian ass and the chest of a pre-pubescent boy, but I can walk, run, sing, hug, belly laugh, snuggle with my sister, jump, throw, pet my dog, give Eskimo kisses, fold my hands in prayer, and for all of that, I am thankful. My heart is passionate and beating, my brain is functioning full-speed ahead. I am so very capable--I just need to decide where and when to exert my energy.

I see and hear so many people talking about wanting to reinvent themselves, thinking that shedding pounds or going gluten-free is going to somehow unlock the mysteries of life or release their full potential. Well, all I want is to stay exactly who I am, because I need more time to figure out who that is. I want to learn how to be comfortable in my own skin no matter what society tells me. So, dear 2014, don't hold back--throw it all at me. I'm strong; I can take it. I want to be tested, to learn, to experiment. I want to love deeply and walk boldly. And most of all, I want to be able to look up and enjoy life as it passes. My teenage years may not have been all that the young adult novels promised, but my twenties will be roaring. So come on 2014, I'm ready for ya. 

xx

"I like to dance…some nights, after dinner, my dad turns on some music and we dance."

-Madeline McCallum, journal entry, age 8