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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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.