A Bedtime Meditation

I close my eyes only to see
my life span out in front of me
my age so ripe, my world still new
two decades gone, more to pass through

A life's not neat, things fall astray
things come undone and pain gives way
so, each night as I fall asleep
I grant myself a vow to keep

A promise known only by me
A truth as sweet as potpourri
It's life moves fast, the days run dry
and pain dissolves while joy stands by

To fasten all your hopes and dreams
To trim your fear and mend the seams

India

               Looking back on my pictures from India, it is hard to believe that I was actually there. It is hard to believe that I stroked the grey, leathery skin of an elephant, rode camels into the grainy sands of a Jaisalmer desert camp and swam with barracuda fish in the Bay of Bengal. Sitting here at home—with my macbook pro at my fingertips and my iPhone vibrating to the left—I feel worlds away from the pictures I am scanning on my camera and, in reality, I suppose that I truly am. India was surreal. Every person that has asked me about my trip receives the same response. I look them in the eyes and shake my head back and forth a bit, explaining that my time in India was simply the most incredible experience  that I have ever had. The memories I made, the friends I met, the people I talked to, the things I saw, and the adventures I embarked upon were once in lifetime.

            It is hard to find a place to begin as I reflect over those past three weeks. I suppose an appropriate place to start—seeing that I am sitting in a heated, sturdy home with a big meal in my stomach—would be the poverty and homelessness that I witnessed abroad. I had this idea in my head before I left for India about what the street life would be like. I envisioned poor people with hollow eyes, feeling sorry for themselves and harassing me for money, and don’t get me wrong, there certainly were plenty of those people. But, as we traveled across the country, through the rural villages and overpopulated cities, I also saw a different kind of people. I witnessed poor families that seemed perfectly content with the little shack they had built for their home. I witnessed old men with no shoes, who probably had nothing to eat all day, playing cards with each other and laughing out loud without a care in the world. Before visiting the impoverished villages, I had imagined that the locals would stare at us with resentment over our first-world possessions, but instead, they simply did so with a naïve wonder and piercing fascination. This realization especially rang true when we visited the children’s orphanage. These kids had nothing. I mean I could only imagine how hard their lives had been. Yet, they had the ability to put everything behind them and laugh and play with us like they were the luckiest kids in the world.  It was an uplifting experience to see these people living with hardly anything and modestly accepting their situation for what it is.

            There was one little girl I saw in India, a memory that lingers with me to this day, that encapsulates this sense of hopefulness. We were on the tour bus driving through some bustling city in some congested state, sitting in traffic like usual. I was listening to my iPod aimlessly looking out the window, when I saw two children, a boy and a girl, who were probably only seven or eight years old. The children were dressed in costume, with their hair done up around their heads and their faces painted with heavy makeup, doing acrobats on the side of the hot highway begging for money. The boy would do a cartwheel and the girl would swing her arms around her body in manner that is not humanly possible. As I was watching them from the comfort of the bus, I looked closer at this little girls face. She had big, pink circles drawn on the rounds of her cheeks. Smack dab in the middle of one of those circles was a long, smeared tear streak. You would have never known that the girl had been crying earlier if not for this strip through the pink film of her makeup, as she was smiling, putting on an animated show for the bystanders and delicately begging for money. Clearly something had made this girl cry earlier in the day. Whether it was because her father had beaten her, she had hurt herself or she was so hungry she couldn’t stand it anymore I will never know. Nonetheless here she was, doing what she had to do to survive. She was the only beggar I ever gave money to throughout the entire trip. To this day I have never seen a bigger smile on anybody’s face, as I opened the bus window and threw down 50 rupees into her outstretched, dirty, little hands.

            The India trip for me was a lot more than just the cultural experience of traveling around a country that was vastly different from my own. It was about the little things, like spending 12 hours on a bus, listening to music and watching the passing landscape. It was about walking around the local artisan marketplaces and purchasing my now beloved silk pashmina, or drinking the most mouthwatering masala chai tea from a vendor who refused to let me pay because he could “feel the energy of my soul.” Before experiencing India I was so consumed by the trivialities of everyday life, worrying myself sick over getting an A on my Shakespeare paper or deciding what dress to wear to my sorority formal. Since traveling to India I have been instilled with a newfound sense of gratitude and perspective. Whenever I am having a bad day or I am upset over something that has happened in my near-perfect life, I think about that little girl with the tear-stained cheek, and I remind myself that not only does everybody has their own burden to handle, but that life always goes on.

Dazed Paradise

July 24, 2012 - 4:00am

I was dreaming that I was awake in another reality. I knew I was in a dream. I was conscious that what I was doing was not real life, and that physically I was actually at home, unconscious in my bed, but that my spirit was awake, somewhere else.

I could do whatever I wanted and get away with it. I was in a vacation land that looked like a tropical, glamorous version of Long Beach and I was sprinting to and fro endlessly, without getting tired. I was going all around into hotel rooms and running onto other people’s property. I was running like I didn't have a care in the world. And I would see all this amazing wonderful food and I would feel satisfied just by looking at it. And I met Julia and her boyfriend because she was working the door at a famous party. And there was a magic lady floating around on a cushioned seat and she was dripping from head to toe with jewels and she knew all. She knew that I was dreaming. I went up to her, and although I was afraid to ask her, I asked how, if I wanted, could I wake up from my dream. And she said all I had to do was something that I could only do in a dream and then I would return to my true reality. Then, people tried to capture me and tie me up, but I was so quick that I would always escape. I realized that I didn't want to be dreaming anymore. In my dream I realized that I wanted to go back to real life, so I went up to Julia and thought about what I wanted and what the floating lady told me and all of a sudden her face turned birdlike and her mouth became a beak and she bit my lips off and they were floating bloodlessly in the air above my face and then, the next thing I know, I am waking up. And I think it is my true reality until I get out of bed and realize that I am not in the room that I fell asleep, not in my bed in my house, but rather a little girl’s room. And the food in my other "dream" I had actually consumed in this reality and there were candy and junk wrappers all over this poor girls floor. And then I realized that I was still dreaming, so I focused on what I wanted a little harder and on what that floating lady in my deeper dream had told me, and then, I came out of my second dream.

I remember coming out of this dream and into real life. It was as if I had broken the surface of my conscience and unconscious mind in real time. And for a split second as I was still dreaming I said, Okay Miriam, now you are going to wake up. And I did. As I was dreaming I opened my eyes and lifted my head and I was exactly where I belonged, in my own bed, in my own house, and I was awake, or at least the reality I spend my waking time in. And I remembered everything so vividly, in a more clarified way than I do when I normally dream. I had a sense of the passing of time in this dream and it all was so chronological and different events were so memorable that it was as if it wasn't a normal, blurry dream, but rather my spirit traveling to a different reality.

Something in a Smile

There is a buoyancy, a radiance in my father’s eyes.  He is looking candidly at the camera, leaning delicately into my mother as if her shoulder was an antique pillow he didn’t want to leave an indent on. My mom’s cheek brushes his forehead as she stares raptly at his face. Her eyes are downcast; her neck straining as she tilts her head to the left so that her nose is only inches away from my father's oversized, rectangular glasses. With one arm around his shoulders and the other gently placed below his chest, she supports him effortlessly.

            

The expressiveness in their body language is no match, however, to the blissful smiles that are drawn across their faces. My dad’s smile can be described as a lighthearted grin. A grin that wrinkles the corners of his mouth past his nose and rounds his long face. Despite the full-grown handlebar moustache that covers his upper lip, the top row of his perfectly straight teeth are visible, cushioned softly by the curve of his bottom one. In all my twenty years of life, I have yet to see such a carefree smile on my father. My mom’s smile is less exuberant as his, yet it radiates the same spirit of blithe. Her lips, seen in profile as she leans intently towards my dad, are pressed together, drawn up in a half-moon shape. The  coyness of her expression is consistent with the intimate, adoring gaze that she extends  towards my father. The contour of her mouth produces a soft indent in her profile, highlighting her chin and drawing one's focus across the bottom of her delicate face to the natural rotation of her neck.

              

This photograph, taken in the summer of 1972, is faded and covered with permanent dust marks from the constant exposure it has weathered throughout the years. It looks nothing like the shiny, fresh picture of my parents taken last summer. Although the photograph is brand new, my parents are visibly older. My mom has her emotions drawn into her forehead and the sides of her face like a stick in wet sand, and the hair on my dad’s moustache is now a full shade of gray.  The expressions on their faces are transformed. My dad still looks at the camera with a twinkly grin, yet he no longer carries a sense of simplicity in his appearance. His stare is head on, meeting the camera with purpose and commitment. My mom’s spirit, while cheerful, also seems somewhat forced, as if it took a little bit of energy for her to lift her head to the camera and smile. Her lips, thinner than they were years ago, fade into her olive skin more smoothly. The corners of her mouth, pulled into a high smile by her circular cheeks, boldly define the creases in the outer edge of her eyes.

           

Looking at these two photographs, I sometimes think that different people are staring back at me. The couple in the first photo emits a certain sense of peacefulness and warmth. There is a true innocence beneath their smiles, as if in that moment nothing in the universe could trouble them. While the couple in the second photo seems perfectly happy and very much in love, there is a weathered look to their expression. It is transparent that life's inevitable challenges have taken their toll. Yet, in my mind, the sameness of these photographs is far more remarkable than the differences of the expressions within them. The fact that these two people have embraced each other for all this time outweighs the deep wrinkles and changed body language. My parents’ love for one another is unconditional. And although the couple in that photograph from 1972 may be harder to recognize these days, those people are still inside my parents somewhere. My mother and father have share over four decades of smiles together, and there is no doubt that their love for each other will hold steadfast in  the years to come, and bring reminders of smiles past as well as create new smiles for future pictures.

1972

2012

Slow Down, You Crazy Child

Driving in the car earlier, completely sick of the songs that fill the radio today (we traded oldies 103.3 for AMP Top 40? C’mon now), I decided to pop in an old mix that I made in the Fall of 2008 into the CD player. Having no idea what to expect, I was immediately comforted as songs from my favorite bands in high school began to play over the car speakers. I was pleasantly surprised when one of my all-time favorite songs from when I was younger, “Vienna” by Billy Joel, came on amidst singles from artists like The Format and Ben Folds, not expecting to hear such a soulful track surrounded by more contemporary ones.  Having not heard the song in years, and having never paid close attention to the lyrics, I was suddenly overcome with a sense of purpose as I processed the words. The song was a perfect response to the way I had been feeling about my life. I had listened to these lyrics countless times as a younger girl, but sitting in the car just now, they finally began to make sense to me for the first time.

Let me backtrack a little. As a rising junior in college, I am consistently reminded about the dark, empty abyss that is my future. Not knowing what at all it is I want to do with my life, I am filled with a constant anxiety about “the next step.” I am wholly overwhelmed at the thought of resumes and cover letters, networking and interviews, and the big bad question of what I am going to do after I graduate. This summer has only amplified my anxieties. I feel completely inadequate when comparing myself to friends who have prestigious internships and learning opportunities. Sure babysitting and dog walking are fun jobs and good money, but what am I doing to prepare for my vocational future this summer? Nothing. I feel as though I am on a rollercoaster that gets faster with every new step I take, and that I am already falling behind on the journey that is the rest of my professional life.

Listening to the song “Vienna” was a much needed reminder, that hey, I am only nineteen years old, and I have the rest of my life to work. As Billy Joel asks, what’s the hurry about? I got chills as the lyrics progressed, “slow down, you’re doing fine/you can’t be everything you want to be before your time... too bad but it’s the life you lead/you’re so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need/though you can see when you’re wrong, you know/you can’t always see when you’re right.” Listening to the song my confidence was restored as I realized that I am my own person, and that I am doing fine. It is important to be reminded to slow down and to understand that we have our whole lives to figure out what it is that we are passionate about. I used to embody the person that Billy Joel is talking to in the song, for I only saw when I was wrong and I never saw when I was right. I recognize now that I truly have so much going for me, and even though my future has yet to play out in the few years I have been waiting for it to, I have faith that it will all unfold in due time. The song continues as it reminds the listener that “only fools are satisfied,” and you should “dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true.” Joel sings, “slow down, you crazy child/and take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile/it’s all right, you can afford to lose a day or two.” Listening to these words I promised myself to always dream big, but to be patient with those dreams. The lyrics allowed me to recognize that I can afford to lose a day or two, or even a summer relaxing and making money in my own way, before embarking on a career that will last me the rest of my life. 

"Vienna" by Billy Joel

Slow down, you crazy child 

you're so ambitious for a juvenile 

But then if you're so smart, tell me 

Why are you still so afraid? 

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about? 

You'd better cool it off before you burn it out 

You've got so much to do and 

Only so many hours in a day 

But you know that when the truth is told.. 

That you can get what you want or you get old 

You're gonna kick off before you even 

Get halfway through 

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you? 

Slow down, you're doing fine 

You can't be everything you want to be 

Before your time 

Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight 

Tonight... 

Too bad but it's the life you lead 

you're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need 

Though you can see when you're wrong, you know 

You can't always see when you're right, you're right 

You've got your passion, you've got your pride 

but don't you know that only fools are satisfied? 

Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true 

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you? 

Slow down, you crazy child 

and take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile 

it's all right, you can afford to lose a day or two 

When will you realize...Vienna waits for you? 

And you know that when the truth is told 

that you can get what you want or you can just get old 

You're gonna kick off before you even get half through 

Why don't you realize, Vienna waits for you 

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?