Thursday, May 7, 2009

Spreading my wings

I remember clearly two years ago sitting on the deck of my new apartment, laptop cords stretched to inside outlets, staring at the 'submit' button on Antioch University New England's Online Application for graduate school. I was on the deck because we hadn't even setup the internet yet, and I was feeding off a weak wireless signal in order to be online.

I remember having a moment of panic. It was the last day that the application would go in, I had not yet gotten reccomendations from people, and I thought my application would be immediately rejected. I considered stopping and not submitting the application at all. I remembered the previous year's hopes of applying that never materialized. I began to resign myself to the idea of one more year of office-bound misery.

I came inside, dejected, and explained my situation to Mike. And, for the first time since we had been together, Mike yelled at me. "Go back out there and DO IT." he said. 

He kicked my butt, and I went back out onto the porch, finished up the application and hit 'submit.' That nudge, that firm affirmation telling me to just shut up and do it - allowed me to move past my self-sabotage about my future. I applied, got accepted, attended and arguably, changed my life in a way that no single action had changed before. 

Walking across the stage and graduating was just as exciting to me as being accepted. I beamed with an unshakable smile at my accomplishments, my challenges, my knowledge. I came out the other side a more whole person, and I'm now pursuing new directions that I never expected were possible. 

I can say now, that I feel more like a butterfly than I ever have. In the next few months I'll be stretching my wings to get the blood flowing, and will soon fly on.

Thank you to everyone who made this possible 
for me.  Thank you for putting up with my sometimes frazzled emotions, for being there for me to unwind, for helping me not to starv or become homeless, for debating with me and listening to my rants and raves, for patiently supporting each of my new ideas that I had for my future. 

I've made a lot of sacrifices and recieved many helping hands over the past two years, but the support you have all given me has been an amazing gift in and of itself.

I couldn't have done it without you.

With love and gratitude,

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

The urge for going

I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky, then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
and all the trees are shivering in a naked row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go

Now the warriors of winter they gave a cold triumphant shout
And all that stays is dying, all that lives is getting out
See the geese in chevron flight flapping and a-racing on before the snow
They've got the urge for going, and they've got the wings so they can go

I'll ply the fire with kindling now, I'll pull the blankets up to my chin
I'll lock the vagrant winter out and bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime and have her stay for just another month or so
But she's got the urge for going and I guess she'll have to go

She gets the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And all her empire's falling down

Monday, October 6, 2008

moonlight & dawn

If I close my eyes I can hear geese and ducks making small talk on the water. If i don't have to close the window for the sake of cold, I think I could listen all night to their chatter. What are they talking about? Joy in the full moon? Preparations for the great flight? Delighting in the last warm night for a while, perhaps? I can't see them because my light dims my eyes sensitivity to moonlight, and their silhouettes get lost to the ripples of the lake.

I turned off the light in hopes of being able to write in moonlight alone, but alas it won't work. The lines on the page are rendered invisible by its blue glow. It is a perfect evening for listening and the sounds fill the cabin. A squirrel clumsily thrashing through the bushes. A steady hum of crickets. The gentle lap of water slapping rock. Over the lake, laughter is carried from a distant party to my ears. 

I revel in nights like this and wish my own house was as open to nature as this cabin is. The room I sleep in the cabin is really the living room with several extra beds in it.  The beauty of that is the side walls of the room are nearly all windows. I purposely take the bed aligned with the sunrise so it wakes me up with it every time I stay there. 

Warm sun on my cheeks is one of the most pleasant wake up calls I've ever received.