And love, true love...

If people must meet my ideals before I can love them, then I can never truly love. If  my love must be predicated by certain check boxes, then it is not truly love of a person, but of an ideal. A love rooted in ideals or ideas is a love rooted in the abstract, and not in reality. The abstract is lost in this world. Marriages, friendships, families, and business relationships are lost due to love being rooted in our ideals and abstracts of what "should be" rather than what truly is. The love of an ideal is a love without grace and mercy, and without grace and mercy, there can be no forgiveness or pardoning. How can anyone measure up in this system of selfishness? It doesn't matter if its romantic or if its your own brother: if our love is not rooted in a reality, in a desire and willingness to truly love with our whole hearts, our relationships can not be sustained.

Here comes a long and deeply profound quote:

"If a person has to be pleasing to me, comforting, reassuring, before I can love him, then I cannot truly love him. Not that love cannot console or reassure! But if I demand first to be reassured, I will never dare to begin loving. If a person has to be a Jew or a Christian before I can love him, then I cannot love him. If he has to be black or white before I can love him, then I cannot love him. If he has to belong to my political party or social group before I can love him, then I cannot love him. If he has to wear my kind of uniform, then my love is no longer love because it is not free: it is dictated by something outside itself. It is dominated by an appetite other than love. I love not the person, but his classification, and in that I love him not as a person but as a  thing. I love his label which confirms me in my attachment to my own label. But in that case I do not even love myself. I value myself not for what I am, but for my label, my classification. In this way I remain at the mercy if forces outside myself, and those who seem strange to me to be neighbors are indeed strangers for I am first a stranger to myself."   -Thomas Merton

Thoughts on Merton

"The acceptance of reality is always a liberation from the burden of illusion that we strive to justify by our own errors and our sins." -Thomas Merton

A heavy quote I read a couple of weeks ago, and I have not stopped thinking about it ever since.

The burden of illusion: Reality is relative, right? My reality is not yours, hers, or theirs because my experience is personal. My experience occurs within my heart, soul, and mind, and if I do not adequately communicate how I am experiencing my own reality, others could be completely unaware of it (as I would be unaware of theirs).

We justify the illusions we continue to uphold in an effort to avoid facing our own shit (how eloquent of me, right?). His fault, her fault, their fault. The world is against us; we have no control over this or that outcome; I am this way because of that issue from my past. These illusions only succeed in robbing us of our hope because we are powerless to change the future due to our lack of control. Further, illusions blind us to experiences that have the potential to add dimensions to our character which can only be gained from some of the toughest lessons we learn in life. If we are constantly skirting responsibility, how are we ever going to see the reality in the mistakes we have made? There is something to be said for the scars and wounds of our souls that remind us that we are not infallible.

When you are fully human, fully capable of wrongdoing, and fully ready to own it, you have potential to help others on their own personal journey. However, if you were never at fault, and everything you've ever done wrong was actually someone else's issue, you are a one-dimensional sub-human! Only humans have sins and faults. You, however, are merely a victim in every sense of the word. What a pitiful reality to accept! Nothing is ever your fault!

Acceptance of Reality: "Liberation" is the absolute perfect word here, which isn't surprising given the genius that Merton was. The liberation that occurs when one accepts a true reality facilitates a hope that we require to reach higher and deeper as we go about the living of our lives. Not only are we liberated when we accept reality, we enable ourselves to develop soul, a depth of character that brings about fullness in existing.  Victory is that much sweeter when it's accompanied by all the blood, sweat, and tears of our being. Forgiveness is that much more of a treasure when we fully accept our wrongdoing. Relationships can reach their full potential when we come down off that high pedestal and join the rest of society in the mud of being Human. It's all liberating because it's all living. It's all real and true. The shit, the sins, the misgivings-- they are what make us who we are; and I have to say that, as a whole, I believe Humans to be truly amazing in their many facets. Denial of your own reality encompasses an immaturity that will ultimately prevent you from the true happiness that comes from engaging in fully intimate relationships (romantic or otherwise).

There is enough rubbish in this world to go around. If you aren't accepting your own, chances are that you are piling it on others and judging them for it.

If you accept reality, what illusions will you be liberated from? (Yes, you'll have to excuse me for ending that sentence with a preposition. I've read that these days, it's sometimes acceptable!)

Advent 2013: Helen Keller quote (not joke)

When all else fails (ahem, my "travel blog"), I will remain true to my annual Advent blog. After all, I can't be a complete failure in the blogging world. 

At any rate, I have been contemplating the last year, this coming season of Advent, and my past writings on the topic. This year presented some unique challenges and, I'll be the first to admit that I was... less than hopeful, to put it mildly. Helen Keller once said (or wrote? or signed?), "When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which as been opened for us."

I think she forgot that, often times, there is some serious lag time between closings and openings, endings and beginnings. It isn't like a door slams shut, and miraculously, there is another door or window open with sunlight streaming through. More likely, we are thrust into an intense storm of sorrow, anger, fear, and hopelessness before there is even a sliver of warmth in our lives again. It's not that we aren't looking for happiness, while all the while we are mourning the loss of joy. It's not like we are forgetting that we have blessings in our lives.

Here are some relevant facts:
 
We are not one-dimensional creatures. We can not shift gears in a day, experiencing pain one moment, and rapidly dancing in the moonlight the next.

In sorrow, we are developing substance of soul and solidness of character.

God's timing isn't our timing. 

The season of Advent, the Christmas season, is intensely painful for many. During the rest of the year, we can sweep a lot of pain under the rug and distract ourselves with skin deep hopes and busy schedules. Then, the holidays begin, and we are face to face with crushed ideals and broken dreams. 

But, here we are, right? Another year wiser; another year ALIVE; another year for another chance. 

During Advent, experience your life in a different frame. It is one of hope in the future, in the ultimate goodness of God, and in the knowledge that all storms eventually come to an end. Christ was born alive and healthy, and the Wise Men found their way to the barn. Miracles.

I have a ritual on the first day of Advent. December 1st is a very bittersweet day for me, as it was the day I got married 12 years ago. The marriage lasted 10 years, and each year on the morning of December 1st, I grapple with all kinds of emotions. So... the ritual...

I get up before the sun, light a candle, grab my coffee, and I write. Sometimes it's a blog, most times its a journal entry. This ritual anchors me, and refreshes me. If my writing is sorrow-filled, it's all effectively spewed onto paper. If I happen to be hopeful when I sit down, I can meditate on those words throughout the Advent season. Either way, the ritual, as rituals do, helps me find solid footing during a season of mixed emotions.Helen Keller had a point, but the reality of it all is not so neatly packaged with a beautiful red bow.

This Advent, indulge your Hope. There is a reason you are here.

One Day More!

Everybody was a baby once, Arthur. Oh, sure, maybe not today, or even yesterday. But once. Babies, chum: tiny, dimpled, fleshy mirrors of our us-ness, that we parents hurl into the future, like leathery footballs of hope. And you've got to get a good spiral on that baby, or evil will make an interception. -The Tick

Monday, October 29, 2012

Gallup, NM was somewhat unremarkable, except for the sunset, which took my breath away. It was so cold there in the morning, about 30 degrees, that Linc and I did not have an early run. Instead, we got up early together, did a quick walk, and then sat in the lobby of the hotel and had coffee and read. Well, I read. He sat there and just drank his coffee.  

We drove to the Painted Dessert and the Petrified Forest and were completely overwhelmed with the beauty there. I have never seen rocks like these. The landscape was enormous, with so many colors and textures to behold. It really was as if God decided that he needed this spot, specifically, to test out all His earth tones. 

  

Driving through the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert was the first time it really felt like we were on the west coast. It was so far from anything I was familiar with that the reality was no longer deniable. We weren’t back east anymore! 

Painted Desert Plank!

That night would be our last night on the road, and we stayed in Kingman, AZ. The excitement was building, and we were ready to be finished with the road trip. The girls were stoked, ready to be at the beach and start a new school. It was pretty awesome to listen to them talk about it all. They weren’t real anxious or scared of the huge change. They were taking it on. One more day, and we’d be arriving “home.”

How bizarre. Home was now… California.

It was a place where JJ and the girls had never even been, and I had only seen for a measly 10 days. Home was nothing but unknowns and questions. We weren’t just dipping our toes in the water to get a feel for things. We were grabbing the kids’ hands and jumping into the ocean, and our floatation devices were optimism and hope. It sounds dramatic, but it’s the total truth. 

As the girls ran through the Painted Desert, and I looked over the vast landscape, my heart was racing. No more safety net, no more favorite pubs, no more incredible weekends in my little townhouse. I thought about people sleeping on my couches in my basement, John Coltrane or Harry Connick Jr. on the ipod, and enormous brunches after long nights around the fire pit. All of those snapshots were a couple thousand miles away now, and were already feeling like distant memories. It made me think of what Oscar Wilde said: "Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us."

The beauty of the landscape gave me a good feeling about it all. I wasn’t staring at miles and miles of dust and flatlands. I was experiencing a new beauty, and it extended as far as my eyes could see.

 

 

Tucumcari: The Blue Swallow

Sunset in Tucumcari

Destiny's powerful hand has made the bed of my future, and it's up to me to lie in it. I am destined to be a superhero. To right wrongs, and to pound two-fisted justice into the hearts of evildoers everywhere. And you don't fight destiny. No sir. And, you don't eat crackers in the bed of your future, or you get all... scratchy. 

- The Tick

After Oklahoma, we were New Mexico-bound. What an absolutely beautiful place! I had no idea...

I found this little motel, The Blue Swallow, which received rave reviews on Yelp. It turned out to be my favorite place during the entire trip. The husband and wife who run this little motel, which was a huge deal when Route 66 was still being used, are incredibly kind and hospitable people. I'm not kidding... if you are ever in the area, stay at this place. I am seriously saying that over the 3,000 mile trip, I loved this the most.

The sheets on these beds smelled as though my own mother had washed them.

When we arrived, our dog played with their dogs in the front driveway; they helped us unload the car and showed us to our room; and we talked about where we had been and the history of the motel as if we'd all been friends for a while. 

They suggested this place in town to get great Mexican food and margaritas. It was perfect! After dinner, the kids hung out on the front porch of our room and we relaxed and contemplated world domination. 

A shut down old drive-in

Saddled up at the diner

The next morning, I was up early with the dog for a run. The town of Tucumcari is completely run down. But it has a charm... maybe it was the sunrise, or the silence on the streets. I just liked it. When I arrived back at the motel, I had coffee with the owners and we all discussed life and travel. It felt like home- like having coffee with my parents; or at the very least, my dearest Uncle and Aunt. 

We left and had breakfast at a great little diner, and then were headed for Gallup, NM, the Petrified Forest, and the Painted Dessert. 

The trip was almost over and we were ready for California. Halloween was right around the corner, and I had no idea what to do to make it special for the girls. Hell, I had no idea where we would be! We were slated to drive into California on Halloween. If we stayed on track, I had a feeling the girls would be celebrating their first Halloween on a beach somewhere. 

Thrilled with her little bed

Sunrise photo of the Blue Swallow

Old School Route 66 Sign along the side of the road

Sanity, you're a madman!

And so, Arthur, we learned that gambling is bad and yet in a certain sense, isn't life itself a gamble? You can never be sure of anything. Like who would have thought that dolphins could go bad and that fish were magnetic? Not me, no sir, not me. -The Tick

Thus begins Part II of our Coast to Coast Journey:

The first day we drove, it was from northern VA to Johnson City, Tennessee. It was an amazingly beautiful drive, and we enjoyed the magnificent colors featured in the late autumn in Virginia and Tennessee. During the drive, the kids were little angels (of course). We didn’t drive super far any of the days during the trip, and the kids and I got plenty of, uh, “quality” time together. Kidding. It was real quality time. They didn’t really get it when I said, “Hey, enjoy this! Next time we do it, one of YOU will be driving!” I think their response was something along the lines of, “Oh mom, we don’t care what you are saying right now.”

We jammed to music, mostly Incubus and Avenged Sevenfold, checked out the scenery, and planned our “State Line Celebration Song” for each time we crossed into a new state (the one we chose can be found HERE). 

When we arrived at hotel #1, we were essentially the only people there. Not much to report for this hotel, and the attached pic says it all. The kids each slept with a parent, and we alternated during the entire trip.

Johnson City

Of note: we learned that Rachel snores like a grown man, and Naomi has full on, legit conversations in her sleep.

Also of note: Naomi is a wild sleeper. I will never forget being asleep the first night during the trip, and feeling her hand go down the back of my shorts. Literally, inside my shorts. I almost had a heart attack.

Church in Clarksville

Day two was a great day. We stayed out on Clarksville, TN, alongside the Cumberland River. It was an awesome college town and we hit up a microbrew and got some great beer and pizza. I did a dusk run with the dog, and then he and I also did an early morning run so we could watch the sunrise over the River. Those were some peaceful moments during what felt like a tornado of life coming right at me!

Sunset

Sunrise

 
Day three was the second best of the entire trip. We stayed at the world famous Peabody Hotel in Little Rock. The experience was SO fun, and included the duck walk in the lobby, delicious food, city parks, the River Market, and more running with the dog.

Great Food

City Park

Mini Grizes take Little Rock

        

And the ducks...

  

It’s a good thing we ended Arkansas on a high note, because next up was OOOOOOklahoma! No offense to Oklahoma, but, WOW. Wow. I didn’t enjoy it there, to put it nicely. We stayed in OK City, with the sole purpose of going to the Memorial while we were in town. The hotel where we stayed had laundry facilities, so I was able to catch up on that. There would be no epic runs with my dog, however. When I walked outside, there was a real tumbleweed on my car. Oklahoma lived up to its reputation! (Why do people live there? No one has been able to explain this to me)

Breathtaking memorial

Outside where the Alfred P. Murrah building once stood

The Children's Memorial

  We had found our road stride and were enjoying talking to people from all over the world. There is an almost instant bond between people who are driving coast to coast. It’s pretty righteous. 

JJ Dynamite and I had perfected the fine art of driving in tandem and dividing up who bought the meals and who bought the booze, which are both critical for any road trip. Thanks to modern technology, kids aren’t nearly as annoying on road trips these days, as compared to the 1980s. Now, they have movies and Nintendo DS, and ipods. I spaced out their car activities with pretty impressive pacing, and was even able to listen to my own educational podcasts while they played video games. There were very few “mommy is about to throw your sorry ass out of the car” moments. 

This is how he recovers from runs

And my dog was made for road trips. That dog didn’t do anything unless I was taking him running. He slept in his bed in the front seat of JJ’s car every single day, for 8 days, and didn’t make a peep. We even realized that we could go into restaurants and eat, leaving him in the car, and he would just wait patiently in the driver’s seat until we returned.

Typical Lincoln

Next up, the absolute highlight of the trip: Tucumcari, New Mexico. 

Honk if you love Justice!

I have been following Sarah Z. Wexler’s blog from Cosmo (NO, I do not read Cosmo) about her journey from NYC to Portland. It got me thinking that maybe I should write a little about my journey from DC to CA. Let me tell you… it’s been an adventure. 

 It all begins with the wise words of The Tick: It’s your destiny, Arthur! HUG IT!

That's me on the right.

 

I had to choose a new place to live from a list of specified locations around the country. I already knew well before the list came out that I was going to put Los Angeles as my #1 choice. I wanted to go where the work would be the best and, trust me, if I could have gone overseas right away, I would have. BUT, as it stood, LA was on the list and there was only a couple of slots for it. I put in for LA, San Fran, and Oakland, respectively. Luckily, I got my my #1. 

(for those of you who don't know what I do, I am a very important admin assistant for a waste management company) 

My first time  ever in California was when I came out here to look for a place to live. I wasn’t looking for just any house either, my friends. I needed one big enough to accommodate me, my girls, my almost ex husband, my bestie (ST), and the dog. Yep, we had come up with this hair-brained idea that, since none of us had ever been here before, we’d all shack up for at least the first year while we got settled and learned the area. The primary requirements were that the house be big and on the beach. Keep in mind that it had been well over a year since the almost ex (henceforth, I’ll call him JJ Dynamite) and I had even lived together.

In the 10 days I was out here, I looked at about 20 houses and made a few offers, only to return to VA with nothing but a bit of culture shock and an overall state of confusion. Maybe the most accurate way to capture my feeling upon returning to VA, knowing I was only weeks from heading back to CA permanently, is the attached photo:

Yes, apparently I was both stressed as hell and going insane.

Meanwhile, all my belongings were being shipped out of my Virginia house to storage in California. I watched them pack up, load the truck, and take off. Then, I sat in my empty house, with no sign of any renters yet, and wondered how in the hell I was going to pull this off. 

My girls and I were living in a hotel for about 10 days. This was… interesting. JJ Dynamite was awesome, of course. I cooked meals and did laundry at his apartment. My hotel room was equipped with a kitchen and all, but it was about the size of my pinky toe.

Moving Day: October 24

Finally, moving day arrived. We took two cars: the girls and I in one (the Girl car), and JJ Dynamite and the dog in the other (the Boy car). We would be driving for 8 days in tandem, on a route I painstaking planned, all the way across the USA.

Oh, and by the way… we didn’t have a place to live in CA yet, as I had not yet acquired the perfect home for our unique family situation. So, we were headed for a hotel in CA, and we’d figure out the whole “house deal” once we got here. Should I post the “stress/insanity” photo again? I’ll skip it, but you get the point.

This concludes Entry 1: Jasko leaves Virginia.

 

Stay tuned for Entry 2, which will feature such amazing places as… “uh, we’re still in Virginia,” Tennessee, Arizona, and Ooooooooklahoma! (that was me singing, like in the musical).

In the interim, all I have to say is: 

Mighty Blue Justice!