Saturday, October 30, 2010

Personal Connection

a single hand clasp ... you are not alone.

picture compliments of homarte on deviantart.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Will You Love Me?

“Mommy, pick me up.”
The child looked up with wide pleading eyes. It was adorable.
How could a parent ignore this plea?
“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
The rumbling of the small tummy harmonized to the child’s plea.
How could a parent not feed this sweet child?
“Sissy, play with me.”
The desire in the shining eye could not be ignored.
How could a sister not play with that eager heart?
“Mommy, do you love me?”
“Daddy, do you love me?”
“Sissy, do you love me?”
And we know that they love this small child because they care for her every desire.

“Mommy, I need a new backpack.”
So they go to the store and buy one.
How could a mother not fulfill her child’s need?
“Daddy, will you help me with my homework?”
They spend hours working together on this homework.
How could a father deny his child help?
“Sissy, why do boys act so weird?”
The sisters giggle together for hours as they chatter.
How could a sister refuse to give advice?
“Mommy, do you love me?”
“Daddy, do you love me?”
“Sister, do you love me?”
And we know that they love this girl because they give her time.

“Mommy, I want a boyfriend.”
The mother smiles worriedly.
What will this turbulence look like?
“Daddy, can I have the car?”
The father proffers the keys in exchange for a promised return by the set time.
How could he refuse his baby?
“Sister, let’s go shopping.”
But, friends come.
How could she be forgotten?
“Mommy, love me.”
“Daddy, you have to love me.”
“Sister, will you love me still?”
And they love her still.

“Mommy, how can I love you?”
Shock rushes across Mommy’s face.
When did this growth happen?
“Daddy, how can I love you?”
And the father is surprised.
How did this growth happen?
“Sister, how can I love you?”
Forgiveness is exchanged.
What changed?
“Mommy, I love you.”
“Daddy, I love you.”
“Sissy, I love you.”
And their love for each other was greater.

Monday, October 25, 2010

A Present Thought

It was Thursday of Fall break. I spent the entire day studying with one of my roommates who I generally don’t see because she is so busy. It was a good day. I was productive. We ate lunch together and it was like a long day date. When we got home, we rejoined another of our roommates and rewarded ourselves with the movie An Affair To Remember. Old movies just have a certain sophisticated ambiance about them. It was divine and it was lovely. And then, the movie ended. I had a sense of loss. Oh, yes. It was quite connected to the movie. However, my sense of missing was because I had not seen my fourth roommate, Alysha, since the night before. She and I share a particular bond having survived a number of difficulties together. For a while, I wandered around my room a bit forlorn. I tried to distract myself with facebook. It was no use. Finally, I gave up.

With the petulance of a child, I stomped out of my dorm room and went to the entrance of my building. For about ten minutes, I pressed my face against the glass of the window peering out into the inky night. My heart screamed, “Alysha, come back to me!” After leaving quite the nose mark on this window, I finally marched outside. I stood smack dab in front of my building in the middle of the sidewalk and unceremoniously plopped myself down on the pavement. I was resolved to sit there until Alysha came home. Did I mention that it was a chilly autumn evening? I got pelted with raindrops and leaves. I wouldn’t move. I was resolute.

For a while, I got distracted by the way that the parking lot lights shown on the leaves of the trees. For a moment or two, the iridescent moon sparkling softly through the clouds intrigued me. Probably for more than a moment, I became very interested in the sounds of the night. And then, I became enthralled with the sound of my voice harmonizing with those night sounds. If you had been sitting near my dorm, you would have been treated to a free concert of my heart chords. The concert may have lasted for the greater part of an hour. It was attended by rain, leaves, and wind. There were a couple of intermissions that occurred upon the sighting of a passerby. I must say that the rain that came fell like sparkling diamonds but thankfully these diamond raindrops were soft and melted into liquid silver. It became a time of enchantment.

Finally, Alysha came. The smile that spread across her face upon the sighting of me sitting in the middle of the sidewalk at such a late hour warmed my heart. I was relieved because honestly I was getting a bit chilled. You would think that I would have immediately glued myself to Alysha’s side, but I didn’t. Now, that she was back, I felt no urgency to be with her. I was contented because I knew she was back. Alysha and I ended up hanging out with some other people. It was good.

Later on, I sat next to Alysha on the couch while we worked on separate things. I was confused because I knew that I had missed Alysha a lot. However, when she was actually there, I didn’t feel the need to be actively interacting with her. I could not understand it in my head. It just wasn’t making sense. And then, I realized it. I turned to Alysha and piped up, “Alysha, I missed your presence.”

Like an avalanche, my thoughts all slid into place. I love interacting with Alysha. Yet, my favorite thing is living next to Alysha day by day not necessarily talking or doing anything. I just like being next to her, knowing that she’s there, and knowing that we don’t have to interact. I never really understood the idea of presence. I mean, obviously, one is present in class or we live in the present time. The idea of presence has and had confused me. I have heard that the Holy Spirit is God’s presence. What in the world does that mean? God’s presence is something that should never leave you because He is everywhere. And yet, we are not always aware of His presence. The presence of friends is much easier to miss because it is a very visible and tangible thing. Of course, we don’t have to be aware of God’s presence. There is a choice involved. I am in the presence of Alysha because I want to be. I’m sitting next to her right now. God’s presence is with me because He wants to be with me and I want Him to be with me. Presence.

Monday, October 18, 2010


A heart-shaped locket cherishes memories, pictures, or locks of hair. Lockets are necklaces kept close to the heart. They are history and future sewn together. The locket is carried into the future on the bearer's neck and it is a window to the past at the unclasping of the sides. Every person has a locket whether or not it is worn around the neck or draped about the heart. It is a safe place for secret thoughts, hopeful dreams, childhood happiness, memorable faces, or remorseful memory. A locket is carried close to the heart.

I'll open my locket for you. Although tiny and not often visible, it is packed with frozen moments that breath in my memory. Some have become living prayers.

A picture in my locket that I have revisited often in the past couple of days is of a couple riding the train. Judging by their clothing, I would say that they were marginally young. The man had dark hair, a tired face, and a black eye. In his hand, he clasped a wide-tooth comb with strands of blonde hair stuck in it. These strands of blonde hair belonged to the woman who sat beside him on the train. There was something not quite right about the woman's eyes and skin. Her skin was sallow and her eyes distant. The woman's hair had a horrific ponytail dent and had been combed through. When the couple had situated themselves in their seats, the woman lay her head in the man's lap and he began to methodically comb her hair. I glanced away from this couple in time to catch a young man across the aisle whispering in repulsion to his friend, "That's disgusting." I looked back at the couple and realized that the man was searching out lice.

At first, I was angry at this disgusted man who chose to only look at the physical circumstances of this couple. Of course, I understood how easy it was to judge by appearance. After all, I was judging that whispering man. If any observer were to glance at this man, they could assume by his clothing that he had lived a posh existence.

This couple captivated me. Obviously, life or circumstance had dealt them a heavy blow. Why did that man have such a black eye? People don't just randomly wake up with black eyes. How did the woman get lice? How did they have money for public transportation if they obviously were in such dire circumstance? This couple also showed deep commitment. Perhaps a man might find it a joy to comb his significant other's hair, but probably only if it is clean and bug-free. What brought this couple to such a deep commitment to each other?

I got off at the next stop. My questions remain unanswered.

Friday, October 15, 2010

dragon skin

The transformation would begin at my elbows. I mean haven't you ever touched your elbows. They are so very strange. To the touch, they are a bit leathery, dry, and bumpy. It seems like the perfect place for magic to begin since elbows are so often forgotten. Magic seems to begin on the edge of being. You don't realize it happened until suddenly the transformation is almost completed.

When I shape shift into a dragon, it always begins at the elbows. The thin leathery skin of humans hardens to a thick bullet-proof scale. My pale coloring begins to appear mildly bluish. The change is so gradually rapid that is unnoticeable in a multitude of blinks. However, the brain of an observer suddenly registers a confusion. The transformation was so subtle that it leaves that observer blinking quickly trying to understand what just happened. Of course, before this observer gains the ability to speak, I am off.

Perhaps, I am a small dragon after all I was contained in a small fragile human body. Being half human and half dragon is a difficult position to be in. Humanly, I am so weak. Dragonly, I have got immeasurable strength. This existence is a lonely one. However, there are others. Yes, there are others. We are a family of mythical things that are scientifically unrecognized and humanly feared.

I most definitely struggled when I first found out this strange existence with which I could participate. Dragons were of fairytale and story. They were killing machines with a taste for human flesh. Honestly, I didn't understand how dragon and man could possibly peaceably dwell within the same body. Occasionally, they do war with each other. I, myself, have seen my dragon head try to gnaw on my human foot that is still in process of transformation. Sometimes, my human mind will start to come up with ways to control the world. However, most days, these two separate but united parts work together.

The transformation begins at my elbows, but it started in the inner core of my being. It was an acceptance and a surrender to something greater than my own desire. I had to let go of my human control and give myself over to the transformation of something wild and untameable.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Pistevo: Why Do You Believe?

Why do you believe? It’s another haunting question. What is the root of your thoughts and beliefs in the world? Do you believe that all men are evil because of some past experience? Or that all women are inevitably control freaks because you have met one too many who exude this characteristic? What drives thought? Why do you believe what you believe? Why do you believe that people will always disappoint you so much so that you aren’t willing to trust? Why are you always waiting to be hit and you expect it? How is it that this has become the norm?

We live what we believe. One can say as much as you want, but one’s true beliefs and closely held values shall bleed out into one’s actions. Allow me to use myself as an example. About a month ago, I chatted with a friend and he told me that I believed that men could not be trusted. This surprised me because I do not vocalize that belief. However, he knew already just by living life beside me over the past two years. I know I do not trust easily. Yet, I thought I was decent. I never had to tell my friend that I have a hard time trusting men. He just knew from life. Now, I cannot explain quite yet why I have difficulties trusting men. That’s an entirely other journey for me to explore solo and in time I may share it. However, this thought that men are not trustworthy permeates the way that I live and navigate through life. Somewhere along the way this idea has cemented itself as some sort of value in my life. Values are the root of one’s action.

I believe that socks belong on feet. This is a value that I cling to. Therefore, I wear my socks upon my feet. Perhaps it is because this was taught to me by not only my mother but it is also culturally and socially acceptable. However, I have worn socks on my hands and I find this to be quite comfortable especially in the winter when my fingers resemble icicles in temperature.

A wild momentary belief of mine is that apples actually fall up. However, we would not know this because we are confused in our perspective of the world. You see, we humans actually are individually suspended to the earth by invisible cables. These cables are designed in such a way that they make everything appear to be falling down. Yet, in fact, things are falling up. In this way, an apple falls up from the tree branches to the ground. In time, the seeds take root. These roots provide life. Although not visible to the human eye, these roots are the values of the tree. Why do I believe all of this? Simply because this whimsical idea caught my fancy and I like the idea.

Why do I believe that a relationship with Jesus Christ is crucial in life? Once upon a time, I tried to imagine my life without Him. I could. I did. It was purposeless. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Life would be fun. I would still be a deep thinker, but I’d probably be a bit of a skank. I would be a feminist. I would control everything shamelessly. And I might be dead.

“Wait.” You say. “But, you are such a good person! That can’t be true.”

Let me assure you that the above is very possible. Oh, it may seem extreme, but life is full of extremity. My innate self does not desire goodness. I would much rather run wild or live in an eternal pathetic party than surrender my life and my control over to this higher being that has been considered fictional by others. What is the purpose of life? Well, it could just be one huge party. However, that would not satiate this desire to have purpose and leave a legacy. After all, death is inevitable. If death is our final destination and the only purpose of life is to please self, then let’s just escalate the process and die.

This past week, I was talking to a friend about the upcoming musical auditions. She was proclaiming her intense desire to be in the musical because it was the very pulse of her heart. Her intensity scared me because I wanted her to not be disappointed. When she asked me if I was audition, I replied, “Yes, I am auditioning. If I don’t get in, that’s fine with me. You see, I’ll help out with it anyways. I just want to be a part of something that is bigger than myself.”

If I live my life solo for my own pleasure and the pleasing of my friends, I am a part of nothing - only a cycle of mutual pleasing. I want more in life. Dear friends, I love you greatly but there must be more to life than just trying to be a people pleaser. I have been offered the opportunity to participate in a family that has been growing, struggling, and learning for the past 2000 or so years. Not only does that make me a part of a legacy, it gives me an opportunity to be a part of a continuing legacy. We are most definitely dysfunctional, but that doesn’t make me stop loving this family any less. It may seem corny to say that I am a part of God’s family, but it’s the very core of my life purpose.

“There are pictures of the people in my family where we look like the most awkward and desperate folk you ever saw, poster children for the human condition. But I like that, when you get to see something real and human. I think that's why most of us stay close to our families, no matter how neurotic the members, how deeply annoying or dull - because when people have seen you at your worst, you don't have to put on the masks as much. And that gives us license to try on that radical hat of liberation, the hat of self-acceptance; we're allowed to escape from underneath one of the fatwas.”
Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott

I believe in the importance of family, the body of Christ. I believe that my relationship with God is the best thing that I have to offer the world. I believe that I will continue to screw things up, but that I will always yearn after God’s ways. I believe that God has saved me from myself multiple times. Why do I believe this? It’s personal, you see, I have seen the evident hand of God in my life. It’s been in small ways and big ways. One day, God might choose to spare me from a multitude of ticks and mosquitoes while all my other companions were plagued by them. Another day, God completely and totally removes a huge struggle and shame-filled activity from my life. Oh, don’t you dare tell me that the ticks don’t like me or that I was able in my own self to spare myself from that previously mentioned activity. After all, I have likeable blood. I’m 0+. Oh, and that activity. I tried to stop. I couldn’t.

“People see God every day, they just don't recognize him.” ~Pearl Bailey

When I dance with the wind because I do dance with the wind, I know that God has a grin across His face. I believe He and I are great friends. Why do I believe that He is so intimately involved in my life? Once when this woman was in Panama, a rugby ball was being tossed around. I was a bit angry, cynical, and tired of people. I growled between terse lips to my friends, “If that ball hits me, I will kill somebody.” I hadn’t even gotten the words fully out of my mouth before this ball hit me square in the back. I could feel God smirking and laughing. Guess what. I didn’t kill them. Instead, I shook my head at God’s sense of humor and accepted their rushed apologies.

Why do you believe?

Thursday, October 7, 2010


Ami glanced at the lighted window across the grass and she laughed at herself. As she took the trash out to the dumpster, she called out silently to the invisible occupants of the lighted window, “Will you just fall in love with me please?” Immediately, Ami shook her head and flung the trash bag into the waiting mouth of the dumpster. It was a magnificent throw and Ami tossed her head back to allow the chill temperature of the night to slightly touch the base of her neck.

Ami enjoyed the subtleties of life and the occasional making eyes at the shocked squirrels. After all, they were squirrels – not men. Of course, it would be just Ami’s luck if one of these squirrels might just happen to be some enchanted man. Ami laughed and felt beautiful. There was something about laughter that just allowed the soul to spring free.

Under the soft glow of a street light, Ami did a slow pirouette in rapture of the embrace of the cool evening. Even amongst the audience of the sleeping cars in their parking spaces, Ami wove between them in graceful leaps of joy in the knowledge of being alive. To an observer, she would have seemed partly ridiculous in the seriousness that she took herself. The music to which Ami seemed to dance was punctuated by her laughter and melodious because of the sounds of the evening.

Abruptly, Ami’s dance froze. In the distance, she had sighted a walker. Ami could dance and pretend flight if there were not a soul to see. However, if a person were to see her, Ami’s private reality would dissolve in the moment that it brushed against another’s reality. In that moment, the enchantment of the night receded. Such a person always caused her to melt back into normality.

With quick steps, Ami’s feet carried her back to her apartment building. As she entered her building, she acknowledged the interrupter of her private reality with a slight head nod. Ami’s return to her apartment reminded Ami of her ocean of responsibilities and she dove back into them.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

what if

"'What' and ‘if’ two words as nonthreatening
as words come. But put
them together side-by-side and they
have the power to haunt you for the
rest of your life: ‘What if?'..." ~ Letters to Juliet.

What if I had been born a boy
What if I had wings
What if instead of snow, we had flamingoes falling from the sky
What if the night was the day and day was the night
What if there was no facebook
What if fingernails were petals
What if curls grew on my head
what if I had gone to prom with a date
what if i had chosen my parent's college
what if the dominican republic had never been my home
what if a sock fell in love with me
what if the sky opened and the ocean poured out
what if these two small repetitive words haunted my life
what if jeans were hats and hats were pants
what if a blanket had the ability to eat a person (we'd have some lumpy blankets)

what if popcorn didn't pop but laughed instead
what if this list lasted forever, would you read it?
what if walking on ceilings was possible
what if shape-shifting was a reality
what if stars could be captured for jewelry. (Stars are a girl's bestfriend)
what if life were a fairytale and not referred to as reality
what if Calvin (& Hobbes) was my little brother
what if farts were of perfume and burps bubbled

what if a church could reflect Jesus in every minute detail
what if homelessness was a thing of myth
what if abuse was obsolete

what if one could live without regret
what if life could not be lost
what if my roommates were crazy
what if rain were candy
what if money were not an issue
what if kindness
what if sprinkles turned into butterflies
what if generosity happened
what if people lived genuine lives

what if apples ate worms
what if sunshine made everyone sparkly
what if this actually stimulates thought
what if people filled needs of others as they saw them
what if
what if
what if
what if
what if
what if trust was not so difficult
what if
what if
what if
what if histories didn't influence futures

what if
what if a kiss were a thimble
what if

what if
what if
what if the imaginative worlds of children did exist
what if the world did not harden person
what if
what if
what if
what if
what if
what if
what if
what if

what if
what if
what if