Chekhov on Being Alive
"You must know why you are alive, or else everything is nonsense, just blowing in the wind."
From the Three Sisters
Listing Joys
Mrs. W has a delightful list of things that she loves up on her blog and listing things that I love sounds like a great way to spend this evening.
And so! Here's a list of things I love.
1. The smell of sea-air
2. Jane Kenyon's poetry (especially this poem)
3. The heaviness of a camera in my hand
4. Laughing with my sister and Mom
5. Long past-midnight conversations about art with my roommate
6. Andrei Rublev
7. Finding letters in the mailbox
8. Reading Shakespeare plays aloud
9. Sight-reading new Debussy and Ravel piano pieces
10. Playing Regina Spektor while baking lots and lots of scones
11. Golden light falling through leaves
12. Vonnegut short stories
13. Long, creme Victorian-esque gloves from my aunt
14. Driving through downtown Los Angeles
15. My grandmother's ring
16. Evening prayers from the BOCP and candles
17. Dancing barefoot on sun-warmed concrete
18. Random happy texts and phone calls from friends
19. Long, quiet resting times with friends
20. Sun-summer dresses
21. Blocks of light on wood floors
22. The smell of roasted jalapeños
23. Ducks in the park
24. Conversations about ducks in the park
25. Dinner parties under the plum tree with mozzarella/avocado/tomato salad, pad thai, and eclair cake with chocolate shavings
26. 25 cent books at the library
27. Looking forward to people coming home
28. Touching and feeling tree bark
29. Playing hide-and-seek with my youngest brother
30. Hearing him laugh
31. Singing with my two year-old cousin
32. Huge, wide expanses of land and trees
33. Feeling small and child-like
34. Summer weddings
35. Starting to take a photo a day again
36. Learning to love surprising and completely unplanned things in life
Starting Small
I have been meaning to write again for far too long. But every time I start a post, I tend to write a few thoughts down, only to realize the thoughts are not complete. So, I bookmark the ideas in my head and save it for conversation with friends or professors. But no more.
And so, in an effort to at least begin writing, here's some writing that is readily available from my journal.
----
[June 3]
His name is Walter. Alexis said he was Peter in disguise and that the blue jacket had to be hiding underneath a cabbage leaf. Unlike most of his kind, he followed us around the yard, sitting when we sat, moving when we moved. On the drive home, Mom said, "That is one classy bunny."
[April 1]
Morning prisms of ever-shifting light. Bread dough: warm, smooth, silk. A joining of families, too long kept apart. I can hear the boys laughing in the back room, exchanging jokes and sports team preferences. In the living room, the lower tones of the adults' more serious conversation happens over cups of coffee and hot tea. Flour covers my hands and spots on the kitchen floor. The small ball of dough sits, rising, in a small silver bowl.
[April 19]
Surprising grace filled the day. Crashing waves and cloud-filled skies, rolled-up jeans and rocks half-hidden in the sea. Climbing, laughing, then sitting still. Such beauty and wordless gratitude. We passed through traffic-ful lanes, wandering til we reached streets familiar and a city known.
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