5 weeks since I've written. Sorry for the absence, but my life has been a bit tumultuous and I never have the ability to write in the midst of the storm. It'd be like in Titantic, when Kate is having all of these revelations about her fiance', her mom, Jack, and the fact that her life is in imminent danger, that she pulled out her notebook and pen and began jotting down her emotions and thoughts on these topics. I don't want to be overly dramatic, my life is not as bad as the Titanic sinking, but there have certainly been some gusts and waves lately and I needed time to process it in my head before I pour it out on paper. My journal has sat neglected as well.
Living in Denver is new, exciting, scary and exhausting. Everyday I face the unfamiliar. I live in a place where you have to always be paying close attention while you drive, I am constantly having to make a first impression, I have only two people in the whole city who have known me longer then 3 months and the person that I found the deepest friendship with is moving in a few days. The emotions of living in strange place, and never really feeling relaxed was wearing on me. When things are good, living in a new place is fun, but when life is rough, it magnifies the unfamiliarity, I have found it nearly overwhelming. My spirit began to sag with heaviness and as time went on, it only increased. God is so good and allowed me an opportunity to go home to Michigan last weekend for 4 days and my spirit came back refreshed and renewed. I feel like my family, in all their familiar ways pulled my floating feet back to ground and tied them on, making me feel more stable and reminding me of the foundation upon which my identity is made.
On a totally separate topic...
On reading:
Four of my favorite authors that don't just come up with great plot lines and interesting characters, but the way that they tell the story, their sentence structure, word choice, and imagery describes the person/object/scene so distinctly, I feel as though I am in fact part of the story. Their insight on life is integrated into the story and you find yourself feeling like you understand exactly what the character is going through and even feel like the author is describing your life. I will boast of these author's talents, but their writing style is so unique and different that I don't recommend them to everyone because I think the reason why I really love these authors and their stories is because they write the way I think and feel and see the world, so it makes sense to me. But not everyone thinks like me.
My four authors:
- L.M. Montgomery
- Marisa de los Santos
- Ann Brashares
- Francine Rivers
"When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does." - Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail
I claim this quote because the books I read as a child have become my identity, but I think the books that I have read as an adult have also melded themselves into who I am in a different way. When you're a child and you read, you have a more blank slate upon which to sketch out who you are, however as an adult, those lines have already been drawn, but they don't always make sense. For me, reading as an adult, has clarified those lines, made them more distinct. Reading books that speak to my spirit awaken my mind to who I have always been and give me a sense of who I am and being very okay with that identity.
All that being said, I want to share a few quotes from my most recent life-clarifying read from a book called Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos. I found myself underlining and starring the sentences and paragraphs that stood out to me. They are a testament to her writing but also I hold them close to my heart because I feel that they describe me better then I can describe myself (strange to read a book that can do that to you). However, the quotes themselves just aren't as striking as they are when you read them in the midst of the context of the story, so I'll post them, but in order to get the full impact - one must read the entire story.
****disclaimer: sorry for the long post, but it's long overdue, and the thoughts have been piling up and up and up...***
Without further ado Marisa de los Santos my friends:
"Five days later I walked up, and there he was, waiting. I won't gush about his appearance, except to say that he was beautiful in the way certain handcrafted wooden objects are beauiful - so seamless, smooth, curved, lustrous, so fully realized and self-contained that it only strieks you seconds later and with the force of a lightning bolt: "oh my gosh, that's a chair!" At which point, you sit down and want to stay forever."
"we filled five minutes with kisses so delicate, so intimate and gentle that , afterward, I walked up the stairs to my apartment, carrying the moment carefully as though it were a glass globe full of butterflies." (have you had a moment like that??)
"She didn't want to talk - not really. She liked the buble of easy quiet they walked in." Do you have anyone like that?
"But the atmosphere Teo and Cornelia carried around with them was playful, affectionate, and what else? Accepting. When Clare entered this atmosphere, she felt free, as though what she thought and said were just fine." Have you ever been around people that made you feel this way?
"There's a kind of tenderness that's only possible in the predawn hours, a blue-gray lonely tenderness that comes from dim lights and sleepiness and immense quiet."
"In the afternoon I did laundry, and Clare helped me fold it, and I could tell she liked doing this for the same reasons I did: the clothes fresh as bread in their baskets, warm in our hands, the neat stacks and full closets afterward. Then that evening, Clare and I went to Linny's to eat her specialty dish, spaghetti and meatbals, and to let her funny talk and big, kind spirit fill in our lonely spaces."
"It was the day after her father's funeral, a freezing, azure day with the kind of sun that is all blinding brilliance and no warmth. "A shrill sun, like a soprano singing her hread off in your ear."
"Clare concentrated on the words, trying hard to press them into her memory and wishing they were solid objects that she could keep and carry around with her."
"There are facts and then there is knowledge that has nothing to do with facts."
"Back home, where Clare had lived with her mother, the houses were like secrets, set far apart from one another, each with its long drive, its buffer of trees."
Throughout the book, the main character Cornelia is trying to figure out "real life". When does your real life start, when you are born, when you get married, when you become an adult, maybe when you find your life calling? She describes it this way: "I'd figured out that a real life didn't mean attaining my heart's desire, but knowing it, meant not the satisfaction, but the longing. Knowing what you love and why, I found out, is as real as it gets." What are your thoughts?
"Our loving each other is just the world we live in, like the grass under our feet. No matter where we are, it's the world we live in."
Read more...
