She wants proof that the weight she carries will be worth it in the end. She believes it will. She confidently tells herself she's taken the right motions, swung and hit every time. Time will tell, will provide that proof.
Been thinking a lot lately about social pressures, weights, things we deal with on a daily basis that never really reveal themselves until some huge news steps into play.How do we deal when we feel silenced? How does it feel to carry a heavier load than your body is equipped for? I don't know. But I do know that this picture I found of Mount Everest tells, pretty accurately, what I'm thinking.
The peaks are there, in plain sight. The sun's peaking its head out from behind the dark crags of the summit. It's a little distant, but surely there's something to be said for making it to the top.
From National Geographic- Himalayas
This is a giant block of whatever is most difficult for you to carry & trust me on this, you'll carry it more times than you can count until you decide that's exactly what you want to do most & then it won't weigh a thing anymore.
What is this mess she harbors,
tangled up inside-
Is it a torment
Self-inflicted?
Or is it imposed
by someone else,
Someone Who,
as the night blackens,
fills heads like hers with sorrow
grief and lingering memories?
Who revels in the idea of Power--
Who cares not for the sanctity of her balanced scale?
Whose shadow is that,
Lurking around the corner,
Beckoning her to follow?
Whose shadow remains
Long after the sun has set--
Is it the ghost of a lonely lover,
She tried so hard to forget?
What song is that
Resonating in the stagnant air
Tickling her reluctant ears?
What melody still rings,
Petering above the hollow ground
In a world where all that’s left
Is the likeness of a familiar sound?
**
She decided it was time
To remove the limited time offer sticker.
She likes to make the rules, But doesn’t like to be the only one
Running laps around the field, with legs cold as ice, stable as jello.
Here's a quote I found from StoryPeople, that I think really describes today's date in history.
In those days,
we finally chose
to walk like giants
& hold the world
in arms grown strong with love
& there may be many things we forget
in the days to come,
but this will not be one of them.
I was eight when the Twin Towers were ambushed on 9/11/2001. Third graders don't usually receive too much in the way of current events, let alone terrorists. But this day mattered. I remember one girl complaining that she had to leave school; I was a bit confused myself, though relieved that my mom came in the middle of gym class.
She walked me and my brother home from our tiny school on the hill. We walked the mile distance, kicking rocks and staring up at the blue, completely cloudless, completely plane-less sky. Then we played baseball in the front yard. The sun shone so brightly. I breathed crisp air as I pitched a wiffle-ball to my five year old brother, who had even less of an idea than I did about the fate of the world. And rightly so.
My mom kept running in to check the TV, I suppose. This wasn't the norm in our family; I still can't think of a time when my mother sat down to deliberately watch a news program. I couldn't comprehend why my favorite shows were replaced with horrified newscasters. I didn't understand that the fall of those two buildings represented the attack of our entire country, of my home in small-town Connecticut, of the values we have been fed, on the independence we gained.
I can't remember it clearly, but they must have explained something to me on that day, in their protective, parenting way. What a task adults must have faced, trying to convey the gravity, while not scaring their children, or bursting into tears themselves. My heart breaks for those who lost their parents and loved ones in the crash. To be a victim of a problem so huge, so much larger than any individual, that's a tragedy.
When I read quotations from those who were there, who saw it happen, I don't even know what to feel. Some kind of melancholy sickness, wrapped with a small layer of hope knowing that, although so many lost their lives, so many survived. The New York Times has an interactive page, where people can share where they were and what they thought. It helps to show just how atrocious, frightening, and impactful 9/11 was for people around the world.
That kind of catastrophe can't be dealt with lightly. I don't want to get into the ways we handled it as a nation, but I am going to say this. Now, ten years later, I understand a bit more. Just a bit. I have seen enough to know that we face problems as a nation and as a global community. It's stomach-churning to think about the horror that exists. Memories of September 2001 should be revisited, but they should be accompanied with hope for the future. If we keep our heads straight, we'll fare well.
We learn at an early age that we each have 5 senses. Sight, sound, taste, touch and smell. We use these to sense danger, if we smell smoke or hear a siren. Our sense heighten pleasure, so much so that the smell of warm baked cookies can link you to your mom's kitchen, or the taste of cotton candy can bring images to mind of your first carnival. What would a hug mean if you couldn't feel the person's arms wrapped around yours? What importance would music have in religion, culture and history, if not for our ability to sense sound with our ears?
In addition to those, we often discuss a sixth sense. (And no, I'm not thinking about the Bruce Willis movie.) That feeling of deja vu, or the crawling feeling you get when you know someone's watching you, those are senses too. These internal senses help evoke emotion, stir longings, grapple with memory. They can't be tested as easily as sight or hearing, but for most people, this sixth sense can be, well, sensed. With out, we'd all be grossly out of tune with one another. This humanistic sense connects us, makes us wired in a strange, intangible way.
But the list of definitions for sense continue. The dictionary includes entries such as: sound, practical intelligence--the value, merit, or significance of something--a DNA sequence capable of coding for an amino acid--an opinion formed by a group consensus. In a properly functioning society, leaders have a good sense of what's going on. They also are able to sense change arriving; they provide a sense of security for their followers. Followers too utilize their own senses when listening to broadcasts and empathizing with situations. In order to seek progress, individuals must provide a moral sense in their lives. To keep things light, we must develop a sense of humor. We must realize that there's little sense in holding on to the past, when the future lies so close to our eyes.
Sometimes, we lose our senses. Flustering situations, panic, laughter, change, can all alter our perception of the life we have built for ourselves. That's perfectly OK. Some moments in our lives, sense shouldn't take the reigns. Death, for instance, make perfect sense. Life happens, and it ends. Biological, right? So why do we cry and mourn for our loved ones when they pass? It's illogical if you think it through, and yet our emotions take over, and sense gets put in the back seat. A lot of decisions made in Washington make sense for the greater good, and yet they result in arguments and anger among different political parties. In forming our own opinions, we essentially give up any hope of finding common ground, a set of simple, sensible rules to live by. When we follow our own desires, we forfeit the right to say 'this makes sense.' Sense, in this sense, refers to personal perception, not straight knowledge. That's perfectly OK too.
A man who hopes to get close to others, to make connections stronger than political, social, or business allies, must overstep the boundaries of what makes sense to himself, and accept that things can be right without being logical. Life isn't a puzzle. It's not a race to see who can build the most impressive picture. It's about indulging in delicacies on occasion, living out our dreams, and speaking up, even if our sentences make no sense. In the long run, comprehension can't compare with our internally developed six senses. Those primitive aspects did, after all, came first.
And now that you've read all that,
listen to this completely nonsensical song by the Barenaked Ladies (a nonsense name if I ever saw one.) I may or may not (I do) know all the words to this song.
It's been a whirlwind recently. Between work, college apps, eating lunch, work, accidentally hitting birds with my car, trying to figure out my gluten allergy, work, and shopping at the mall, I haven't had too much time to post. But here are some cool things worth viewing.
TED.com is one of my favorite sites. I could spend a whole day being mindblown
Car for blind people?! I thought it was crazy too. Watch this short clip & see for yourself!
Fact of the day:
Ofcom (a media regulating company) says one in threeadults and 60% of teenagers classify themselves as highly addicted to their smartphones such as iPhones, Blackberrys and Androids.
That's absolutely sick if you ask me. When a person can't get through a meal without checking his or her Blackberry, something's wrong. Smartphones are the new cocaine. It's time to crack down and get our population snapped back into reality.
Joshua Foer on the 99% (a new favorite website, similar to TED).
Read part 1 then part 2, followed by part 3, and then if you're still interested, read this:
...But you’ll also feel higher, in position and in mentality. It’s a queasy feeling, altitude sickness, perhaps, or overexertion. Nonetheless, it’s a high that you cannot ignore. When that next opportunity to jump arises, you check that your shoelaces are tied and push off with vigor. You struggle, but remember, if I did it once, I can do it again
This mentality may work, but should be used with caution. Eventually our muscles thin and our bones break down. As time passes, we cannot handle the full climb. But our minds drive us to accelerate, to push through and just do it.
We keep moving up the belts, waving at those we surpass and grumbling about the individuals who always manage to stay a step ahead. And so, the distinct rungs of our society form. Much like the revolving belt at the airport, the escalator doesn’t care whether you’ve gathered your bags. It’s going to keep moving and climbing, so hold onto your hats and your competitive drive.
For now, that was the last part. If you've read them all, I'd love to hear your thoughts (preferably the positive ones, but criticisms keep me on my toes too.)
It seems unlikely, since we as a society are often told that ‘there is always room for improvement.’ We work to diminish the amount of space between ourselves and the perfection we seek. We keep decreasing the distance by a half, ridding ourselves of flaws and making the cuts we see necessary. Eventually, we end up climbing along a horizontal asymptote that travels straight along a path destined for infinity. One cannot reach the finish line, but neither can one plummet to the ground. We hover over the line, driven to keep that status for as long as we can hold out.
How does it work? We get locked into these different stairwells of status, setting the pace and the grade to the lifestyle of our choice. We buy the fancy car, but cringe each time the payments arrive in the mail. We attend prestigious universities, only to be swallowed by loans upon graduation. Yet, once we set that bar, we have to keep climbing despite the intensity. Life is not like a stair master. You can’t hit “Quit Workout” and take a drink, you’d be looked down upon for sure. No one enjoys dealing with that kind of humiliation, the type that crawls under your skin like ants aggregating over a lollipop. So you stay on, watched by the other gym-goers. You sweat and you push until you’re feeling fainter than ever.....
