Taste of Fall...

This is a taste of my weekend:

Pumpkin Patch with my roomie, Erin!

Then we went and saw High School Music 3: one word...EPIC.

Sunday I baked. And baked. And baked for the Autumn Dessert for that evening! Apple pie, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, pumpkin bread, apple cider. I love autumn!

Sabbath Prayer

The Likrat Sabbat,
by Rabbi Jack Riemer

"We cannot merely pray to you, O God to end war;
For we know that You have made the world in a way
That man must find his own path to peace.
Within himself and with his neighbor.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end starvation;
For You have already given us the resources
With which to feed the entire world,
If we would only use them wisely.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to root out prejudice;
For You have already given us eyes
With which to see the good in all men,
If we would only use them rightly.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end despair,
For You have already given us the power
To clear away slums and to give hope,
If we would only use our power justly.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end disease;
For You have already given us great minds
With which to search out cures and healing,
If we would only use them constructively.

Therefore we pray to You instead, O God,
For strength, determination and will power,
To do instead of just pray,
To become instead of merely to wish."

Don't give up on your faith

I heard this song last night during conversation with a close friend in which God was so present I still sit here in awe of His blessings -- His power. And I realized. In that moment. God was singing this song to me.

I can read your mind and I know your story
and I see what you're going through yeah
It's an uphill climb, and I'm feeling sorry
But I know it will come to you yeah
So don't surrender coz' you can win
In this thing called love

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is

When you question me for a simple answer
I don't know what to say, no
But it's plain to see, if we stick together
You're gonna find the way, yeah
So don't surrender coz' you can win
In this thing called love

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is
(That's the way it is)

When life is empty with no tomorrow
And loneliness starts to call
Baby don't worry, forget your sorrow
'Cause love's gonna conquer it all, ALL!

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is
Don't give up on your faith
love comes to those who believe it
and that's the way it is.
That's the way it is
That's the way it is, yeah
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is.
--Celine Dion

I'm singing a new song today. I'm breathing new air.
God is good.

dancing letters

This is one of the assignments from my Imaginative Writing courses. The prompt was: Pretend you have never been told anything about writing or writers. In place of that pretense, try to recall a very early experience you had of reading or hearing language that interested or excited or confused or enlightened you. Maybe it was something you overheard, or something someone else read, or a comic-book, or a sign on a billboard. Now write about that experience, trying to describe what about the text got to you and why.

"I remember my parents using the cryptic language of spelling which floated right over my five year old head. I would look up and try to grasp at the dancing letters falling and moving around me. I didn’t feel slighted or unnerved, just curious. Soon the realization dawned that those were letters forming words and I could not quite piece the puzzle together. “When are we going to pick up the P-U-P-P-Y” my mom would say to my dad. P’s and U’s and Y’s would rush into my tender ears and jumble and mumble themselves in a messy heap at the bottom of my brain. I couldn’t yet comprehend the Morse Code pulsing from my parents lips sending secret messages to each other while I observed with mild curiosity.
Looking out the car window my eyes would search the symbols on the signs whizzing by trying to make sense of this strange phenomenon. At stoplights I would interrogate my mom and demand she interpret every cryptic sign within the radius of my eyes barely able to see over the dash of the car. My mom would read them and I would repeat them hoping to understand that what I was saying and seeing somehow collided together to form one. Words could tickle my eyes with their shapes and curves and also graze my ear with soft and sharp sounds. How could these two universes be the same?
I worked diligently at my mini desk in my hard plastic blue chair. Bent over my paper carefully copying the curve and plank of “t” the images of trees and turtles crawling from the worksheet into my imagination. A turtle was all of a sudden linked to the unsteady and ragged pencil scratch I labored at. Reading became my one and only goal. I couldn’t get enough books and though I couldn’t quite read I shoved them under my parent’s noses and requested them over and over. In an excited frenzy I grabbed my favorite, Cinderella, and proceeded to “read” it to dad. It didn’t matter that I was simply rephrasing the story engraved in my imagination from repetition, to me, I was participating in this great merging of worlds – I was almost reading.
It was late afternoon. My dad walked in the door coming home from work and I ambushed him with hugs and giggles. His heavy winter jacket flaked with snow cooled my warm cheek. I stood on the beige carpeted step picking at the odd wooden wall hanging of two cats with turquoise eyes eerily staring back. Mom came out of the kitchen and casually said, “Hey let’s go to an M-O-V-I-E tonight.” M…O…V…I…E. Those simple letters started to fall into place and I scrunched my brow in concentration. Mooo viii, no. Moooveee. Movie. Success! Connection! I blurted out: “Ooo! Yes! I want to see Pocahontas, can we please see Pocahontas?!?” I remember my mom smiling at my achievement uttering, “Well, guess that’s the end of our secrets!” That was it. I held the key. The locked treasure chest was now mine and as I unlocked it the words cascaded and fell on me with rapture. I was the richest girl in the world."

Where has all the time gone???

“Time is a wasteland. It has grandeur but no beauty. It’s strange, frightful power is always feared but rarely cheered.” (The Sabbath Heschel) p20

I found this a beautiful description of time. Time and I have a love-hate relationship. When I need it most to fly by (anticipation for a guest, holiday, or during unpleasant job) it slows to a crawl and giggles at my constant glances. When I plead with it to slow to the thickness of molasses it steps on the hyper-speed treadmill and goes to town. For example, when I lay my weary head on a pillow and close my eyes hoping the night passes slowly only to awake a moment later to the blaring alarm. The line “It’s strange, frightful power is always feared but rarely cheered” leaves time with this heavy drape across our shoulders. We can neither run from it or grasp it, it’s that nagging feeling you’re being followed yet when you turn around no one’s there. “Time is a wasteland” is a strong metaphor. I visualize some vast desert, heat rising from the cracked earth with no end in sight. A scene much like the scene from Pirates of the Caribbean 3 where Jack Sparrow wanders around his own personal wasteland. Time, what a dreadful and marvelous thing. It’s power keeps us moving forward, yet also keeps us in constant reflection trying to grasp at what was. In my Human Development class, we spoke about memories and nostalgia.

A storm is coming...

“There is something joyful about storms that interrupt routine. Snow or freezing rain suddenly releases you from expectations, performance demands, and the tyranny of appointments and schedules. And unlike illness, it is largely a corporate rather than an individual experience. One can almost hear a unified sigh rise from the nearby city and surrounding countryside where Nature has intervened to give respite to the weary humans slogging it out within her purview” (The Shack William Young 15).

When people ask me is the rain gets to me living in Seattle I reply with a confident no. This paragraph sums up how I feel about rainy days and storms. My favorite days are the ones where I’m cooped up inside snuggled in a blanket with a favorite book and cup of tea because Mother Nature prevents me from venturing outside. Even when it’s raining I enjoy taking advantage of the excuse to stay inside and work on my to-do list. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sunshine too, I love those days too irresistible to be inside because the sun demands I get my dose of Vitamin D.

Sabbath

As a part of a class I'm taking I am learning the discipline of Sabbath. Therefore, every Saturday at sundown until Sunday at sundown I will be ceasing from homework, Internet, TV shows, etc and enter into a time for resting, connecting with God and celebrating His blessings through friends and family and just being.

The first Sabbath starts tonight...in a matter of minutes or hours (I don't know when the sun will go down). I'm anxious, I have a lot to do between PA duties and homework and I already feel restless putting that on hold for a whole 24 hours. I am also anticipating the rest and rejuvenation I'll feel from taking a Sabbath each week.

On a side note...this year has quickly ripped me from my comfort zone and challenged me to challenge myself. And, proudly, I've done that. Below is a glimpse at the first lesson and the beginning of the bonding process with my staff. I hate ropes courses, for some reason they absolutely terrify me and I began the day thinking I probably wasn't going to make it. The course consisted of 8 obstacles created certainly to test my sanity and strength about 40 feet above the ground. The end reward was taking a zip line out into the meadow. Make it, I did. Grow, I did. Learn, I did. Laugh...all I've done is laugh.

Huh?

My head is spinning (not just from the congestion).
First day of classes were Monday and as if right on time I woke up sick. This is year three that my body found it convenient to let down the walls of immunity while the germs charged. Freshman year I was sick by the end of the first week, last year I was sick at the beginning of the second week and this year - on the dot. First day of class.

I'll divulge on my class load later because I am feeling completely uninspired to write due to the massive amount of to-do lists screaming my name and whirring my brain. I think I've had quite a few unintelligible conversations with my mom this week because I can't seem to form sentences due to the demanding things running rampant in my head...like when she called for directions of where to look for important paperwork and my jumbled mind told her where to find the phone I want her to send me (which I hadn't yet told her about). Thus the conversation went:
(mom) "Where is it?" (the paperwork)
(me) "The bottom drawer" (directions to the phone)
(mom) "I see a box and other stuff"
(me...logically thinking we are both looking for a phone) "Right, that's it!"
(mom) "What?!? I don't see it!"
(me) "In the box...doesn't it have a picture of a green phone on it?"
(mom) "Yes... what am I doing with it??"
(me) "Sending it to me." (duh)
(mom) "What? Where is the paperwork I need??"
(me) "Oh yeah...that."
(mom) "There isn't a phone in here! There's paint and paintbrushes"
(me) "Oh yeah. I knew that, the phone's downstairs."

Anyways, during my Imaginative Writing class we did an exercise where we had to write a poem using words on the board and base it off of a popular proverb or phrase that we had just put into our own words. Mine was "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink" and I somewhat changed it to: "You can find a door, but you can't make it open" (feeble I know...but again with the not thinking so clearly, and I was tired). But that translated to this:

A door by the edge of a cliff
Why door? Why your impeccable brashness to stop my feet
Blackberry's sharp and thorny close in around my thoughts
Door! MOVE - Be Gone. Away. This needle in my side.
My voice choked and broken bouncing off your thick wall of determination
Open! I yell at you to open. The black cloud suppressing my lungs.
Pressing closer, I'm afraid, I shiver, I'm alone.
Looking deeper my anxieties whir within
One step, two step, my fingers reach for your prickly bramble of a doorknob.
Open. I'm on my way.

Don't look for deep meaning...unless the door stands as a barrier between me and my bed. Because then there might be a screaming match...
Speaking of bed, I'm going to go fall into mine and pray I have the strength to drag myself out of it in the morning.