Sunday, April 3, 2011

It Was a 'You' Kind of Day

Those words were uttered to me across telephone lines today and they stopped me in my tracks (but then a lady bumped into me because it was a busy street so I had to keep moving.)  Regardless, there are certain people that can strike a chord in you no matter what.  The friends that hold the memories of the freshest, most original version of you.  Not the wisest, not necessarily the best version of you... but the version that was fresh and whole and untouched by life.  The version that didn't have to fight cynicism and fear, because everything was still so new and perfect.

"I just had to call you because it's a beautiful day and I went to the farmer's market, and now I'm sitting in my car eating fresh raspberries and driving through back roads to get lost... and it just felt like a 'you' kind of day.  This was the kind of day I would have spent with you."

Bam.  I was there.  Those later years of High School when my friends let me drag them to watch the sunrise at 5am because why not.  The ones who teased me, but secretly loved that I was fascinated by the stars and the moon, and captivated by the various faces and walks of life that we'd encounter at the farmer's market.

I have a memory of "Home" in that.  To have a reminder of that time in my life was a phenomenal and timely blessing... because it was a memory of a 'me' that was yet untouched.

The funny thing is, I have journeyed far from that time and place, and far from that girl.  Yet, now I see how I am journeying back.  I have tried cynicism.  I have tried playing the jaded card.  I have tried being undone by this world... and it simply doesn't feel right.

As Sarah Kay said in the video I included in my last post, life will hit you hard, wait for you to get back up, and hit you again.  And perhaps you will curl inward for awhile, begging for a moment of grace... begging for a breath to take.  What if we took that breath, and then flung our arms wide begging for more?  What if we chose to never forget how inspired and awestruck we were before the blows?  To carry that with us, no matter what rained down?

I don't know what the moment will be when I say "Aha! This is Home."  I don't know when the moment will be that this project suddenly becomes obsolete.  I do have a sense though, that it will have something to do with returning to the girl who was all-loving and all-trusting.  Who was unashamed to be inspired and inspiring.  Who forced people to watch the sunrise with her.  Who begged to lie under the stars on warm nights.  Who stole daffodils and danced in the streets and insisted that life was this incredible, beautiful gift that couldn't be wasted... not for a moment.

"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.  I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself."  -Maya Angelou

Credit goes to the beautiful Ms Ashley for sharing this quote (and her journey) with me... and reminding me that we are all connected and influencing each other whether we know it or not.  We owe it to ourselves and others, then, to be the best version of ourselves we can be.

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  1. It's funny how you always put the right words on the right feelings. Each one of your entries touch me some way or another. I'm truly thankful you started sharing your thoughts with us, because they resonated in my head with a very pleasant tempo.
    This journey to home you've taken, well I feel like I'm taking it too, right now, just by reading those thought-provoking well chosen words.
    "we are all connected and influencing each other whether we know it or not." This is very true and beautiful.
    Again, thanks for sharing all of this.

  2. As a sixteen year old, still in high school, still living with my parents, I have nearly no sense of what home truly is to me. I'm not even sure when I'll start to figure it out, but when I do, I know it will change me.
    I remember when I was little, when I got really upset I used to scream to everyone in hearing distance that i just wanted to go home. My parents and my brother would always look at me like I was crazy and tell me that I was home. But I knew, in that moment, I was not home. I was not comfortable or happy.
    In truth, I never really knew what I meant when I said that, I still don't. I do know, however, that home has not found me yet, and I have not found home.
    I am happy, curious and hopeful, which I believe all children should be, which I believe everyone should be. I'm still growing, I always will be. I realize, that at merely sixteen I don't know everything, even if I act like I do sometimes. In fact, I barely know enough to make it through each day. I should probably listen to my parents more and pay attention more often, but I'm still young, I make mistakes, bigger and more often than I will in the future.
    I hope that when I find home, which I believe is different for everyone, that I will look back at the now me and laugh at how silly I was. How amazing I thought I was. And then marvel at how much I learned.