I think one thing I love about winter and the early morning is the special role of routines. Even though I don't think about it as often, there's still something reverent about a routine - dependable, precious, comforting, purposeful, predictably illuminating - that makes me crave them. Probably why I thought it would be a good idea to get up really early during the winter.

Well, now we are moving and what I really want is to put everything back where it belongs. For a moment I will feel settled and then free to grow and move and act and have my being from there. Today I know that will never happen again. Frankly, I know that I am moving because there were times when I felt that this house restricted me. But now the time has come and I am so lost without the routines. Without the familiar orientation of things. It is hard for me to find myself. I don't know how much longer it will be before I can find this again.

I know everyone's personality is different, but I always feel the most free to dare and create when there are a few things I know to be stable. Without a place to be, I feel shuttered away.

How much of this is about having a comfortable house? I don't know. I love it but I also love stretching my arms and having Sarah and Andrea there. I don't want to reach that far.

It's not early, but in this peaceful place it feels like it could be. It's cooler out, and cloudy, which grows that certain green glow. As far as my bedroom goes, in the verdant months it feels like a tree house. the two windows are all grown over with vines and close trees and as far as I'm concerned it seems the whole room is resting in them.

Little Stories

I. In which... Sarah uses her Hands Aptly

Here we are. I am on the bed. Andrea is in the doorway. Sarah is in the middle of the room explaining something to us. There is no corelation between the movement of her hands and the meaning of her words, but it still helps us understand what she says. She is probably telling us a story about how the cabin will be. She says we will eat a lot of food and go on some walks and it probably will not snow because it's too late in March. Maybe she is saying that everyone will end up mailing her checks and it will be fine. She forgets to mention a few things: that the mattresses are crackly and covered with plastic. That there is a porch swing. That you can climb on the roof as long as you know it is hot. At this point none of us know that we will have to drive through a thick fog coming to and going from.




II. In Which... Michael loves a little tree.

Look! Michael has found a tree. You may not see it from here, but it is a pretty sapling with dark pink flesh. This, of course, sounds un-ethical. Perhaps you think that Michael is a power hungry dude convinced that he owns everything he sees, with no consideration of what the tree needs to survive
(maybe, for example, it's native climate). But there you are wrong. There were so many in the forest and he couldn't stand to see it lost among a crowd, so he brought it home.

Just kidding. You can tell by his outfit that Michael is clearly on his way to a Pearl Jam concert. As he was walking, he heard this little tree rocking out to Jeremy's Daughter and is going to stow it away in his boot so they can share the jams with each other.

III. In which... Four Girls Spend a long afternoon in Giggles

Asking when the giggles would stop was like asking when the breeze would stop blowing or the sun would stop shining or icing would stop resting on cake. There's no answer for such a thing, but if you were really pressed to give one, well, you'd probably have to settle on 'never.'



IV. In Which Levi Discovers Happiness

Turn around, bright eyes.



V. In which... Zach propositions a Little Dish (of ice cream)

Say, are you here alone?
No! The people who invited you here left?
I'm so sorry; it seems awfully lonely over there at your table.
You know, I'd love to have your company over here.



VI. In which... Michael discovers his mortality

Sometime ago, doing the same thing he does everyday, something twitched or hiccuped somewheres and Michael cut into his hand. Looking at his tender muscle, examining the thin skin that manages to keep us together, Michael blinked a few times in learning how close his insides are to the outside.


VII. In which... the past calls out to me with a vital message.














Ms. Hen, very proud, arrived at the market with a new dress, of the color blue.
She had two bags and a bonnet.
That proud Ms. Hen!
Not even talking to the other hens!
That proud hen, didn't look at anybody. Didn't look to the right or the left.
She was walking upright, with amusing movements from one side to the other, showing off her new dress.
Suddenly: Down!
Ms. Hen and her new dress fell in a mudpuddle.

VIII. In which... Ms. Squirrel tries to work her way in

When I first saw this lady out the kitchen window, I thought it was a boy and deserved to be the new mascot of Easter! I was lucky enough to watch this squirrel through her entire lunch, amazed at how fearless she was under my gaze. It was then I learned: she is trying to make Lucious fall for her. Perched, patient, self-sufficient, watchful, made of graceful curves, and delicately nibbly. These are clearly the qualities he admires. I wonder how many meals she spends on the posts nearby our windows.


IX. In which... I spice things up

Here we are and lent is over. I don't know if I lived up to my full potential in my endeavors. Although I certainly had some gleaming moments, I think I went at this project all wrong. I wanted the discipline, sure, but I think I wanted it because I thought I would gain creative or writerly clarity through measuring myself out. I also think that what the early bird finds is quiet. In that deep quiet and still is where the faintest rustle of a bud beginning to burst can be heard. I never let myself quiet down that much, so I'm still on the chase. Chase like a game of tag (or even, 'chase,' the game) where we all run around trying to get something. If we succeed, our captive is immediately freed and we start out running again. With that, I'll go.

On a sunny March day Sarah and Michael and I first brought the kitties home. Sarah bought a cardboard carrier box that was decorated with cartoon-y space ships and planets. It was an apt illustration of how the experience would be so new for these little animals that they may just as well be floating through outer space. When we got home and let them out on the carpet, they walked around on tense and wobbly legs, timidly toppling around on their new terrain. To these weak framed fluff balls, Michael kept calling "Hello, life! Hello, life!" Since that day, I often think of the presence created by the lives of things around us. Sometimes I think of dead days that can't carry themselves and the brief spurts of life that find their way through them. In those bright moments I also think "Hello, life!"

I am going to do something a little crazy and be religious for a second. I've been re-thinking how similar religions are. Like how everyone is trying to pin the tail on the same donkey but we've been blindfolded and spun around so many times that it's hard. Also how human thought and connection and ability grows and changes and evolves on the same timeline. In this, the story of Jesus' life and the new covenant changes the way i think about people interacting with god. I sometimes think it marked a change in how all people interact with god. So, the reading for this Sunday (when i get confirmed...???) is this:

"The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt-- a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the LORD. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, "Know the LORD," for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more. "

It is from jeremiah. Let me tell you what it means. It means that there was a period of time on the planet when people needed an external spiritual mediator. However, now god and truth and stuff can rest inside people. All people can have an internal spiritual flow of experience and connection with god and each other. this makes sense, also, when you think about sin as separation from god. If sin is the point where people became so self-aware that they needed a mediator to connect to their spiritual selves, we no longer need that mediator, ok? This authoritative tone is completely tongue-in-cheek. Please remember that any definition i have for words like 'god' and 'spiritual' rambles around in circles and is basically undefined. You can tell I am not convinced in reverence by how inconsistent my capitalization is. I can't even take words seriously, much less god and stuff.

there is a little girl in my class who tells me every hour that her nose is still running, like it's something new, like she's surprised every time she realizes that it hasn't stopped. that is how i feel about both this blog entry and my life.

hello, life!

anniversary

today is my 10 day anniversary of not posting anything. There are two main reasons for this: (1) last week I was so sick and sick of being sick and discouraged and dejected about my body that I was too depressed to do anything. (2) This week Michael has been on jury duty and around a lot more than usual and I have been going to the doctor a lot and busy.

I am going to add a lot of things and move backwards in time. oh yea, and I'm going to mark the separation between days with webdings. If you thought this blog was a little bit sophisticated, think again.

l l l l l

Here is Michael on the vernal equinox. (Today!) He is feeling very balanced in (1) parts of sunlight v. darkness and (2) ushering in justice through his service on a jury. I wish you the same wash of peace.

l l l l l

On the day before the first day of spring i saw my first flowering tree. This morning i wrote about a fox stealing a chicken.

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Here is zach. he is a good friend long time. here is a coffee shop. once again, when i go to a coffee shop concert in the evening i feel in the 90's. there are moments like this (cue kelly clarkson) when i find myself inside the adulthood that i dreamed about and idolized. and then i don't feel like myself but i do feel like a part of a good story. this is actually a very difficult picture to take, so admire the craftsmanship in my care not to include any hipsters. although i wish hannah was in the photo because her baseball cap was true.

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Here we are at Solly Brothers' farm. On Tuesday i felt very selfish.

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Here is when michael and i went to war. I kid. This is the building that they are tearing down by Whole Foods to make the Barnes on the parkway. It's very eerie and full of rubble. You can see the whole skeleton of the building and grid of the rooms from different corners and angles. The layers of wires and old beds and murals and harsh pink and blue and lavender painted walls. It's like the city is being crudely awakened to just how childlike the inhabitants of that building were, how they served their time in some garish eternal nursery.

l l l l l

hanging out with tennyson last friday. drinking in center city. bikes on the bus. like, so three years ago. love!

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Mornings quiet and fresh I can't tell where I am. There's the same peace from getting up and weeding wet grasses, the same fear of going somewhere alone, the longing for waking up in the mountains, or affording coffee every morning. and then there's Girard where I slip back decades and see shadows of men in coordinated suits and soulful ladies swishing down past children with jump-ropes and hula hoops and it's all simple and idealized but it sure feels like a paradise frozen in time. and maybe lost altogether. I wonder how grown up I am from the greenhouse, from bumblebee where we were all so infatuated with each other and seeing the world through each story and endearing every mannerism in people and rattling of floorboards with it's Own Special Truth and thin socks and weird light fixtures and rice.

scooter kiss

too tired too tired too tired. warm and fresh this weekend but by now i fell all washed out.

this is a cardboard box costume of spongebob.

this is what my lungs look like!

It's been rising for a few days: my blankets feel like a bear trap, each seam around each layer of clothes a too-tight-collar, my socks and shoes a concrete cast, my coughing a reminder that I won't be able to move anywhere as long as I breathe. Feeling so constricted by all the accessories of winter, today comes and there's more than 50 degrees and a little thaw. I'm sitting on top of my comforter, a bag full of prescriptions, and starting to fear the freedom. I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to let go of these obstacles that have become companions.

The snow this week did not offer any magic. Even though it was deep and light and soft, it was also cold and still felt like walls. Until today when there were stripes of dirty, slushy, half melted grey mess and salt stains everywhere and white patches around sidewalk trees and climbing up the hill by the museum. I remember a time in college when the whole campus was covered in snow for weeks on end. It never quite melted and then it would get recovered over and over and on that first day when it started to melt you could hear the water move and ripple down paved corners. It's not quite like that here but I appreciate the dirt (again). I see the dirt, today, as not something that brings color and beauty but just dirt. Humble and ordinary and more fitting than all that bright fluffy snow.

8

Look, I'm gonna be real wichyu. I have been coughing for 7 weeks. I am sick and going to the doctor and if they don't give me a fucking chest x-ray I am going to make flyers all over the neighborhood and slander their practice. I know this does not sound like the peaceful morning light I am trying to promote on this blog, but after the morning comes the rest of the day (where I get cranky) and then the night (where I cough for hours). That being said, I was supposed to write this on Wednesday but the night before I sat up coughing all over myself and didn't sleep and was worthless all day. The only thing I was thankful for was animals that are able to roll into balls or cuddle into themselves. After work I went to 1928 without my camera. It was very peaceful and pleasant and I would have liked to show you a picture. Maybe I will take a picture another day and add it to this post. It won't matter that I didn't take it on the actual day because it's not like that house ever looks any different at all. Stay tuned for my next entry because you will be a-mazed at how much I can change tone in a matter of moments. After I publish this post I am going to spin around on the rug and move from Wednesday to Thursday and write Thursdays actual, legitimate message.

7 - praise

everything happens in the dining room, here.

6 - Adoration

billowy blustery snow day. around 20 degrees all day and fine, drifty snow. too many cooks in the kitchen. that pot of soup sat on the stove for six hours (at least). plates and glasses and eating spoons and stirring spoons and crumbs and onion skins and milk rings and tea rings and juice rings all stacked and piled and jostling and clanging and chiming.

throughout the day, andrea and i each left once to walk to the corner and put something in the mail. when michael came home the door flew open, he tramped through swirls and i swallowed that cold air like fists. it was welcome. i thought it was peaceful to keep to myself but i realize it's also crazy.

5 - corporate worship

-- after the first week of writing, when all of the prayer meditations have been covered, I will stop addressing them directly and just leave them in the labels or titles of the posts. it is your responsibility to make a connection to them. ---

My first day to celebrate corporate worship! and I went to church alone, left without saying hello to my friends or roommates, and came home to my bed. where i have stayed this long lonely time. I bought this yarn yesterday in union square (it turns out to be more vibrant and green). I feel a little like this bundle.

4 - petition and intercession

Yesterday was the first day I've spent in New York City where I ended feeling inspired instead of just overwhelmed. Long ago, Michael and I talked about how the City is Too Much With Us, noticing that people there act as caricatures of themselves. There are too many stories behind each hipster haircut, old lady surrounded in fur, and man walking his children from their Saturday morning dance or swimming or piano lessons. There's something about New York that carries a weight of representation or modelling what lives are all about.

Modeling is a bit of a silly word, especially for me because we use it so much at work to describe our actions under the always watchful and absorbing eyes of children. I like to think of our adult dependence on each other for modeling, too. My peace yesterday, I think, came from this: That there's a little truth, a little love, a little lord in the lives around me if only my eyes are made to see.

3 - oblation

I had a few hopes.
1) to take a picture at work. it was too warm a day to have a picture after dark.
2) i happened across a stray cat, casually cleaning itself by the alley behind our house. she did not have the mangy, wild-eyed and desperate demeanor of street-cats. she was comfortable, maternal, content.

I ended with this little clip because one of my favorite things about spring is when the dark comforts of home slowly transform to a place where the warmth continues instead of a safe haven carved out of the deep, dark, cold. So before these flowers die, here is a little fresh maker.

2 - penitence

Although this seems gloomy, this auto repair shop nests inside of a building with a colorful, polka-dotted mural on it. On this warmish night, Michael and I were able to take an evening walk in blue light and this grimy reminder of the ubiquitous dirty-nails of spring offered some cold comfort.

1. thanksgiving

I'm not trying to be silly. There's a lot of white in our house and at night it turns into a lot of outlines and shadows. I know that little light is close and growing stronger. The last light of the evenings loses its air of sad settling defeat. I imagine the sun has been asleep or sick and must slowly regain its strength. If the sun had a face it would not be smiling yet but there would be a little gleam in its eye, calling "tomorrow I will try to stay a little longer." And in the morning I feel those rays - its long arms - straining for hours. Without faltering, the slow rise grows until it manages to crest the horizon. It's a small sliver, but it's bright.

I am really not this much of a hippie and don't think the sun is a person. It's a metaphor for hope, people. And a fact of the life.

introduction

1. Two years ago, my early morning caffeine binges somehow inspired me to write a poem each day during Holy Week.
2. Last year I gave up coffee for lent.
3. Today, I couldn't decide between taking daily photos with written reflection or giving up internet use at home.
4. I am tired of talking too much and need to temper my mouth by using my hands (a slower tool and one more prone to editing).
   

Last week at Episcopal class our rector, Alan, suggested practising a Lenten prayer cycle framed around the seven purposes of prayer laid out in the catechism. Ok, so I don't know about lent or prayer or the catechism but I do love patterns and cycles. It works out that there are 7 purposes of prayer and the 7th is corporate worship, which can be celebrated on Sundays. The structure was too neat for me to deny. I've decided to do early morning holy writing while mindful of these purposes of prayer. The question still remains, I suppose: what the hll is this blog?

I just wanted to do something else. I still want to take a picture every day. I can't tell if this blog is more about lent or waiting for the spring everyday or if those are the same thing. Anyhows, in each entry you will find: 1) a picture taken that day and 2) some kind of message about the photo or how dark it is and quiet and 3) a mention of lent or prayer.

I can't solicit any questions because I don't have any readers. How perfectly convenient for me.