Summer Goals Reviewed

I thought that as the summer is now officially at its end for me at least, I should look back and see how far I got with my summer goals. Since I haven't thought of them in the past two months, this could be bad.

I will drink at least three glasses of water a day this summer. I will be hydrated by the time I return to university even if it kills me.
Well, I tried. I really did. Most days I did get three glasses of water. Some days tea seemed like a better replacement though.

I will do sit ups every night no matter how tired I am.
Night eventually began to be replaced by morning and some mornings were just not so good in my life. I did fairly well though. I was happy with the effort.

I will spend at least an hour outside every day enjoying the beautiful weather I get. Even rain is beautiful.
Most days. I have a good tan to prove it. There were some days when a cave just seemed a little bit more appealing though . . .

I will read books that I want and also books that are good for my brain.
Done!

I will not spend all my days off at home.
I don't think that I spent any of my days off at home. Well, maybe two. Definitely accomplished that!

I will get to know more assistants at work this summer, especially the ones from other countries who I may never see again.
Not only have I gotten to know a lot of people, I have begun a relationship with someone from another country. I would say that works!

I will have at least two alcoholic drinks a week. This may qualify as an addiction, but it is relaxing.
That was never really an issue.

I will get out of the house at least two nights a week.
Again, really not an issue.

I will figure out if I really want to do a Masters degree for me or for another reason. Not really sure which way that is going to fall yet.
And still not sure which way that is going to fall.

I will read all the books that I brought to work for the summer. This doesn't include the books I'm sure I will buy.
Unfortunately, this goal remained unfulfilled. I did make a good effort though.

I will write something every day, no matter how mundane it is.
I actually did get around to doing all of this goal. Not all of it was published on this blog, but there was always something written.

I will fall in love with someone or something every day. It's what makes the mornings worth it.
Somedays this turned out to be more of a person, but it definitely happened. My heart is both full and happy.

I will smell the flowers that grow so gloriously in the backyard. They are not something I have control over and they are more beautiful because of it.
The backyard was extended to the park behind our yard, and there were always beautiful roses there.

I will accept the fact that I cannot control a great deal of things in my life. I will!
And I did! :)

I will feel pretty every day, no matter how terrible I actually look. That is irrelevant. I know that I am beautiful and I need to realize that.
Most days this worked. Some days I needed a little bit of prompting.

I will get more than six hours of sleep at least five nights a week.
So done!

When I get back to school in September, I will be relaxed and I will be ready to finish my degree.
Sadly, this is not the case on so many levels. I want to finish my degree, but I don't want to go back to school at all. I suppose that is simply something I have to work on!

All in all, I think this was a fairly productive summer. Outside of my original goals, I have learned so much about myself and also how to live my life in line with my values. I just need to learn a few more things before I'm ready for the "real world."

Lessons In Prayer

I read a lot of books and some of them have attempted to instruct me in the art of praying. Beyond all the books I have read, I have sat through many sermons with many of the same points with different words. Regardless of how well worded these sermons or books have been, they cannot compare at all to the lessons I have learned in prayer over the past two summers.

I thought I knew a lot when I arrived May of 2006. I was so very very wrong.

For all the things that I did know, there were so many more that I didn't. I knew nothing about what it meant to be totally and completely authentic in every way. I knew very little about what it meant to be completely open in my prayers. I have learned so many things in the past two summers.

One of the core members I live with prays in a way that has inspired my prayer life a lot. He begins his prayers with two sayings. One is this: "God? God, I'm here. It's me God." The other is this: "God? God, listen to me."

There are very few times in my life that I have left myself open in a way that says simply that I am here. The past summers have taught me about being present and allowing myself to simply be in the moment. I usually spend a lot of my time worrying about what the future holds for me. I know that I shouldn't, but it is simply my way. What this man has taught me is that it is more important to be in the moment, to be present and to be able to offer myself in that way. I have gotten my lessons mostly from this man.

There have been so many other lessons in prayer, be it sharing prayer with others, or learning how to pray out loud. I have changed so much in my outer life this summer, that it shouldn't surprise me at all to find my inner life changing as well. I knew that I came to learn things, but it never occurred to me that it would change my life so drastically.

It's interesting how much you are able to take out of lessons when you are open to learning new things. I know that these lessons have changed me and they will continue to change me.

How We See and How We Are Seen

I was reading an interesting book recently. I realize that this will be a shocking piece of information for many, but take a deep breath and keep reading. This book was about how saints have found happiness in their lives. It was the guidebook from the lives of those who are seen to be exceptional in what is sometimes an incredibly exceptional world.

One of the saints who was listed in the book was Henri Nouwen. Henri Nouwen was a Dutch priest, prolific writer and great spiritual leader. That's not how I came to know him though.

Henri lived in the same community that is now a part of my life. He was just here many years before I was. When you first mention his name, what you hear spoken about him will not lead you to think of him as a famous writer or someone who is revered across many continents. When he came here, he thought that this community was so lucky to have him. They should feel flattered that someone of his standing would want to come into the community here. What he learned though is that he was just as lucky to have found them.

In talking to some of the core members, you don't hear of Henri as a great writer. One of the core members will be quick to tell you that Henri took care of his brother and it's true. For many years Henri walked through life's pathways with a man named Adam. Adam was truly exceptional in so many ways and mostly in the ways that the world would overlook him. Adam could not walk, or talk. He was not able to feed himself or dress himself. What Henri discovered though, is that Adam was capable of loving more gently, more deeply and more truly than many of us will ever be able to.

For Adam, Henri could not have been a great spiritual writer or someone of international renowned. Henri was simply someone who was willing to share life with Adam. For those who do not read, who are not aware of the news and the idea of fame, life becomes a lot simpler and you are forced to live in a more authentic way.

When I first came to the community, I had some ideas of grandeur about myself. I had survived my first year at university as the only harpist at a very good music school and I was proud of myself. I was heading off to play at Carnegie Hall, which still remains one of the greatest moments in my life, but not the best. When I came here, I was forced to put some of my ideas of myself aside.

The fact that I was a musician was definitely important as I began my journey through a series of regular and yet incredibly extraordinary days here. It was important in ways that I wasn't expecting though. It was important only on the levels that it called those around me to engage in music with me. It was only when I sent an invitation out to join in or simply sit and enjoy while I made music for someone other than myself that my music made a difference.

Over the past two years I have become increasingly disconnected from a music that was once my entire life. What was once so important simply for myself has become important only in the context of others. Instead of being the musician I once saw myself being, I seem to be heading in the direction of music therapy. It's a good thing in my life and I enjoy the idea. I'm not so sure if the reality will be the same, but there is always time to change.

How I saw myself when I arrived was someone who had something to give. How I was seen was as someone who had something to learn and something to gain.

I have left much of the person I was when I first entered into community behind me and allowed myself to be changed by the incredible love that is offered every time someone makes sure I will come back from my time away or call for a birthday. Every morning when there is a smile waiting for me, I know that I am in the right place and don't regret my choice, even when I can feel exceedingly tired or sick.

I have learned that how I am seen is not how I see myself and that is a good thing. I am more than what I see. My flaws are highlighted when I look at my life and I often fail to see the redeeming factors of myself. I also forget to see the parts of my life that need to be healed. Coming to community has shown me that those places in my life can be seen more often by those who are not me. They can see with more clarity and also have the opportunity to offer the healing that I need.

How I am seen here is very different from every other place in the world. When I am here, I am everything that I can possibly be. It is exhausting and completely exhilarating. And I know that I am more authentically me than I ever have been before.

Rocks in the Stream

I had a very entertaining conversation with my partner one day. We were out for a walk in the woods and we came to a stream. This is a place that he has come to love over the past few months and wanted to share it with me. What he said to me that day made more sense than I had thought it would.

He spoke about the stones in the river and the similarity to the stones in our lives. Without the stones, the water is still there and it is still beautiful. The only thing is that without the stones, the water has no shape.

In our lives, we are faced with different sets of stones. We can go crashing into them, or glide silently over them. We can allow them to break us apart, or we can wear them down. Without them though, there would be no shape to our lives.

It is only through trials, adversity, pain and sorrow that our lives gain shape. It is only through losing something precious that we can realize how precious what we have truly is. When we allow ourselves to simply move through life, avoiding adversity and not attempting to change our surroundings, then we lose something that is very important in our lives.

Water has incredible power. When I travelled out to western Canada with my family, we saw many waterfalls. Most of these waterfalls had worn down the stone walls around them. You could see the layers of the wall that had been washed away over time. For me, after my conversation of stones and water, that showed the resilience of the human spirit.

As many rocks can be placed in front of us as we can handle. We can choose to crash up on those rocks or we can choose to wear them down. Even if we do crash up on the rocks, there is always the chance to regroup and pull ourselves back together. For the most part, we are able to do that. There is the resilience of the human spirit. And that is more incredible than anything else.

I am hitting some of the stones in my life. I don't want to leave the cocoon of love and safety that I have found in my community and it is breaking my heart on so many levels. I know that this is just one more of the stones in my life that I have to face though. And I will. It is not a stone that will be able to break me apart because I won't let it. This is a stone that I will wear down.

Leaving With Light

I can usually be described with the rather generic and yet highly descriptive term "burn-out." This is something that tends to happen to those who are slightly less than capable of saying no to requests upon their time and energy. In my case, I am completely incapable of saying no to requests for my time and energy. Most days I am able to cope with this, but it does have an effect on me by the end of the year.

By the end of each school year, and even in the middle of the year at Christmas, I have hit my burn out point. I don't have any energy left for myself and find it hard to learn, absorb and be present for those who need me. I find myself returning to the same place that welcomes me, although I may be burnt out and lacking in some forms of energy.

I find myself coming back to a place where I am accepted completely burnt out, thinking that I have nothing to offer. I think the people here are accustomed to seeing people arrive in the same condition. The first few days are almost as hard as the last as I am so tired and attempting to find a way to make my gifts fit with those who are already there. Most of the time I find that this can happen easily, but it can also take some work.

There are a large number of people who are involved in this community. Some are long term members and some are summer assistants only here for a few months. In so many ways though, we all find a way to pass out light to each other. We can rekindle lights that have been extinguished from ignorance and pain or even from simple exhaustion. We share our lights with each other through simple acts of community - cooking together, praying together and simply being together whether in silence or laughter.

When I arrived here in May, I was not certain that four months would be long enough to relight my life. I had driven myself to the point of exhaustion, possibly deliberately, and I needed a break. This was more than the break that I needed.

I walked through the door and there were people there to greet me with open arms. I began to eat more and laugh more and have the chance to be more like a child. I also had more responsibility than I have for the majority of my life. When I live at university, I have only myself to worry about. Well, myself and all the others I attempt to take care of, but mostly just myself. Here I am responsible for crucial parts of five people's lives. I cook and clean and sometimes feel very menial, but it really is something important for the people I live with. I get to rediscover myself and also see how I might have been through relationship with those around me. I have people who want me to be fully alive and fully present in each moment. They don't want to see me the way I look during the year and they make sure that part of me is not present during the summer months.

While I have no desire to go back to school right now, I know that I do go back with a light. I have the energy to go back and continue doing what I was doing prior to returning to community. I know that should my light go out again (which I'm sure that it will) I have a place to return to that a smile is enough to put the light back in my soul.

A Love That Won't Let Go

I've heard people say that if you love something, you have to be able to let it go. Over the past two summers however, I have found the most incredible love in my life that never lets go.

Living in community is something that is completely different from the rest of the world. There are more intentional communities being formed to create places in the world where there are people who care deeply for each other. The community that I live in has a core group that never leave the community. There are also a large number of people who come and pass through the community for the summer or for a year.

I have come for the past two summers and at the end of each summer I find it very hard to leave. I love this community more than most of the other places I have called home over the course of my life. And there is no way I will ever be able to let it go. It also doesn't let me go.

When I leave here, especially in September, I don't want to leave. I want to stay here in the heart of those who love me. I didn't realize until recently how much I stay in the hearts of those who remain here even when I am not.

I expected for my friends to miss me, but I didn't expect entirely for the people, the core group, to miss me as much. They are more used to people coming and going in their lives and I expected I would be just like those who have left in the past. I'm different though because I keep coming back.

When I am able to come back into the community, I have found that I have actually been missed. This is something that I wasn't expecting. I thought it would be easy to come back and then leave again. It is not at all. It is because I love this place and the people so much that I can't let it go. It is because that the people here hold me in their hearts, despite the distance that I sometimes am forced to travel that holds me here and allows me to come back.

Perhaps it is not the greatest part of love to be able to let go but the ability to hold on, even if just in a corner of the heart. A place that always allows someone to return.

What I've Found

I was called this morning and asked about my experience of living at Daybreak. She wanted to know what had drawn me to come here and also what I have found here.

I came to the community first last summer and returned this summer. This year, I will be returning for weekends to work as relief for some of the houses. I have found something here that I have never felt anywhere else.

When I first walked through the door of the house I now live in, I had no idea what to expect. Even now, every morning when I walk down the stairs I have very little idea what to expect. Every day is different and even more incredible.

What I found when I walked through the front door of the house was more than what I had ever expected. I thought I would be coming for a summer job that I would be able to leave at the end of the summer. I was very very wrong. At the end of last summer when I did leave, I cried for two weeks. I missed the relationships I had formed here so much that it stopped me from developing other relationships in my life. When I came back, it was the best day of my life. I cried because I was so happy.

What I have found here are people who are more open than I can ever hope to be in my life. They open their arms and their hearts to all of those who enter into their lives. They call those who live with them to a greater reality in their lives and a greater playfulness. I have found that I am called to a much greater playfulness and also to be more authentic in my life.

I have found that my life is more authentic for living in community. I don't have time to live away from those around when I am having a bad day or when I'm feeling sick. I don't get to live parts of my life that I would prefer to hide in the seclusion I would prefer somedays. My relationships here are a part of the community regardless of how much I would prefer them to be private. The upside of all these things is that I have support when I have off days. When I am mourning, there is always someone there for a hug. There is support for my relationship although that can also be hard.

What I've found are greater gifts than what I could have found anywhere else. I thought I would come and then be able to leave. I was so wrong. There are somedays when I am able to leave. I am always able to come back though.

Bring the Boys Home

As the casualty lists continue to mount in Canadian troops, there have been discussions of bringing the troops home soon. I have to admit that I am no longer sure if I agree with that.

Two years ago I would have said that we have no right to be interfering in the peace of another country. Two years ago I thought that the world is more black and white than I know it to be now. I also didn't know anyone who was sent overseas. Now I do.

Jann Arden just did a cover of a song from the Vietnam War "Bring the Boys Home." There is no time that is better than right now for that song to be heard again. The part of the song that currently hits my heart the most is when it talks about lovers being parted. I have never dated a soldier and I have no intention of ever doing so, but I am involved with someone who will be heading across an ocean at some point. To be parted from someone who you love is hard and it is even harder when it is a parting that is not deliberate for whatever reasons.

While the debate rages on about whether to bring our fighting forces home, the debate rages on in my mind as well. How far are we supposed to go to protect those who can't? Are we called to step in and step up to protect those who do not belong to our own countries? Who are the innocents in every war and who are the oppressors?

I have no idea how far we are supposed to go in order to protect those in other countries. I don't know how much our interference will be resented in coming years or how crippling out interference may be. Some things we have no way of knowing and we simply try and do the best that we can. I don't know what else we can do and maybe we will be able to bring our boys home soon.

It Takes A Whole Village

There was a baby shower today in the community. One of the incredible things that was said by a member of the community. She said that although she has lived as a celibate for her life, she has always been able to act as a surrogate grandmother to all the children in the community. She said that you need a lot of help when you are raising a child and the couple had gotten very lucky living in the community that provides endless aunts, uncles and cousins for their child.

I couldn't help but think of a song that a friend's choir has sung a few times. The lyrics to this song speaks of the whole village being needed to raise one child. It was written for the AIDS crisis in Africa as there are so many orphans caused by the epidemic. The villages band together to raise the children who are left when their parents are gone.

In this century, the village mentality has been lost in many places. It doesn't really exist at all in North America except for the few places that there is an intentional community. I am lucky enough to live in a community that is entirely intentional and very supportive. The nuclear family has for the most part replaced the idea of involving many in the lives of children. Extended family is not as close as it once was and many people can be spread out across a country or even an ocean.

My family is not always as close as I would like them to be, but I know that they are there for me when I need it. I also have a community in my church as well as the one that I have now chosen for myself. I have my village and I know that I am incredibly lucky.

Today when I was sitting at the baby shower, I knew how lucky the couple sitting at the front were. I also knew that I want this community to help me raise the children I will eventually have. I'm not going to have a child in the immediate future, but the love, hope and support that was throughout all of those who were there made me want to have a child. That and the fact that there is someone who I can see long term in my life.

It takes a whole village to raise a child. It takes the support and love of all those around the family as well as the love of those who were part of the genetic creation of the child. There was plenty of advice offered today when it comes to raising the new child. The best advice given was to allow the village to take part in the miracle of life.

Going Out With Joy

Coming from a church tradition of the Presbyterians, I am unaccustomed to praying out loud, or hearing others do so. This has changed drastically since I have entered community life.

In the worship that takes place every Friday night, the prayers of the people truly are the prayers of the people. There is an invitation to share the concerns of the heart from those who are at the heart of our community. The most incredible part of of these prayers is the very real, day to day quality of them. They are prayers for help and support from and for those who are closest in relationship. The prayer that touched my heart the most this past Friday was that of a two year assistant who is now leaving.

Many assistants are beginning to make their way back to civilian life outside of the loving and supportive community we create every day. The prayer of the assistant who is now leaving was to have the ability to go out with joy.

Her prayer is one I should adopt. Instead of praying for the strength to leave with joy, I am praying for the ability to stay and live in community. The countdown of my days still continues and I cling more desperately to every moment. The quiet pancake Saturday mornings, worshipping together, creating music, being in the kitchen as a group. The moments that sustains me as I live with a different kind of family for the summer.

The dread of going back to school threatens to overwhlem me at many parts of my day. I find little joy in the idea of going out into a larger, mostly indifferent community. It's hard to feel so excited or joyful about going back to a place where people are less vocal about caring for each other, a place where a hand is extended less readily and little things get ignored.

When I was deciding whether or not I would stay here for the year, I spoke to a lot of people. One of the most important person to speak to when it came to making my decision was my priest. I spoke about how hard it was for me to go back to life outside the community. His reply was that perhaps it is my mission to bring the joy back with me, to share community with those around me.

The love, joy and openness that enters into my life when I am in community is incredible. There is so much here that depends on the people who live my life with me. They call me to be joyful, to be childlike and to be more genuinely me. I know who I am when I am here. I know more than I thought I would know at this point in my life. What I know now is that I have to leave and I have to leave in ten days. I don't want to, but there are so many things that I can take with me. I can take part of the joy that I have gained here out with me and perhaps that is the point of me coming for the summer. To be able to take joy out to those around me. Many of them may not be able to understand what I have lived or why it is so incredible in my life. They can't understand it because they haven't lived what I have. And that is the only way to understand what I have in my life is to gain the same thing, which is hard when you live in university.

So however I may feel about leaving, I will go out with joy whether I know it or not. I can go back with joy and allow others around me to feel the joy.

Not Just Another Pin

I'm watching M*A*S*H again. The most interesting thing is that this seems to be the show that speaks the most to my worries right now.

This episode features a general who loses his son. The general sets up camp at the hospital unit and continues to send out orders while he waits for news on his son. After he loses his son, he becomes philosophical and says that all the boys who are fighting are simply pins on a board.

It's interesting to be in the position of commanding troops as a general does. There are many good men who fight, whether because they are forced to or because they choose to. To a general, the soldiers they send to different places are not always seen as people. They can simply be different coloured pins that are stuck on a map.

When the casualty numbers come out in the newspapers, or are covered up in the newspaper, they can sometimes seem like just numbers. Every number though is more than just a number. The men and women who are fighting in various countries in the world are each unique individuals who have lives and families far away from the war. They have likes and dislikes and people who are going to miss them if they don't come back from the war.

While there will be pins in the map that show the numbers, there is no way to show on the map the faces of those who are in the field. There is no way to show their families or their hobbies. There is no way to show what the world will be missing without the people who have been lost.

The men and women who are fighting in all the places in the world are more than just pins. They are so much more.

The Idea of Marriage

I played at a wedding yesterday and it was an interesting experience in my life. Every wedding that I play at is different in my life and they have the power to evoke very different emotions in my life.

The wedding I played at was a beautiful simple ceremony. The location was perfect and there was an interesting connection to the family of the couple. I felt good as it was the first time I had seriously played all summer. The looks of joy I got were more than enough to get me through the pain that was in my arms. It was the perfect temperature and there a little boy who kept making eyes at me.

Many of the weddings leave me wanting someone to share parts of my life with. This time though, I didn't have to wish for someone to spend part of my life with. I've already found that. For much of my life, I have loved the idea of being married. I've wanted to get married as soon as I can. Interestingly enough though, today did not leave me wanting to get married right away. It left me feeling as though I may be able to wait a few years for something I've hoped for for all of my life.

Perhaps the reason I had hoped for desperately to get married at all the other weddings I have played at is because I didn't have someone to share the best and the worst parts of my life. I do now and that leaves me with the desire to have a wedding someday, just not right now.

The idea of marriage has gained a much more complicated definition for me over the years. I used to think simply of the wedding day, flowers and a beautiful white dress. Now I realize that those things are not at all important when it comes to making a marriage. They are nice to have for one day, but it is the waking up in the morning, getting up to get the crying child in the middle of the night, caring for each other and helping each other to grow that truly make a marriage. It is the small gestures of love that create a loving marriage and a good relationship. There is no such thing as a perfect relationship and that knowledge will lead to an easier marriage. There will be days when there are mistakes to deal with and some hard times that you will have to get through.

A marriage is more than a wedding. The wedding is simply the beginning. A marriage is every morning, ever night and every day for the rest of your life.

Walking Trees

My father is a story teller. One of the best ones he has told lately is about how the trees walk when we're not looking. I don't know how true that may be, but I know I feel a lot like those walking trees right now.

In order for trees to walk, they must pull up their roots, leave parts of them behind and immediately sink their roots into another location. If the trees choose to come back to the place they have originally come from, the parts of roots they have left behind will have died. There will be very little way of connecting to exactly what was left behind.

I can be like a tree in the respect that I can sink my roots quickly into whatever place I am in order to survive there. The downside to this is that I continue to pull up my roots and that hurts. It feels similar in many ways to pulling out hairs by the root which is also something that happens on a regular basis. These days though, I am more like a walking tree.

I have three or more places that I can call home. The only problem with this is that it requires roots to be in each place. There are roots waiting for me in each place, but I have to tug on the roots in other places in order to move in between them. Sometimes it is a similar feeling to someone pulling on a ponytail, but other days it feels as though someone is attempting to rid my head of all my grey hairs. And that would be painful.

Somedays it feels as though I have been a tree cut into pieces in order to transplant. It's difficult to be in three different pieces and yet have enough strength to stand against storms in three different places. There is not enough strength in my trunk to support all those who wish to sit in my branches or be sheltered underneath my branches. In order to survive I must focus simply on one of the places that I belong to and not allow myself to become too thin.

The idea of stretching myself too thin will not come as a shock to many of you who know me well. No is not a word that makes its way into my vocabulary very often and I always seem to be somewhere near the point of snapping because I have stretched so far. Over the past two years though, it has become a different kind of stretching. Not only have I over committed myself in terms of school work, but I am also a part of two L'Arche communities who both support me in many ways. I have relationships that I am attempting to support in many cities and many countries. I have family obligations and gigs that I don't necessarily want to do. I tend to stretch myself well. The only problem when I begin to stretch myself is that I also begin to shrink. When I get into too many things, I forget to eat and lose weight that I am aware I really shouldn't.

While I am beginning to tug on my roots in a few places in preparation to begin walking again, I am becoming more aware of how far I can stretch and how many roots I can sustain. The number of roots I can sustain have nothing to do with my capacity to love, but simply how many places I can connect myself to on a regular basis.

I'm picking up my roots to begin walking again. Maybe on the way, I'll find myself whispering back at some of the trees.

End of the Summer Traditions

This is getting too close to the end of the summer for me. It is interesting how I can tell that it is the end of the summer. It used to be the fact that there were less mosquitoes at the cottage and the nights began to get cooler. The back-to-school sales also remain a good sign. What strikes me most this year is an entirely different tradition than putting on more layers of clothes or buying back to school supplies.

This summer and last, I have lived in community. This is a community that is constantly aware of change and accepts it, while not necessarily liking it. The end of the summer tends to be the time when there is the most change. Our community leader called it "the changing of the guard" last night, and in a way he's right. The people who live here are so important. We call those who live here permanently core members because they are at the core of our community. The rest of us are simply assistants.

It is the core members who have the ministry of welcoming and also of saying goodbye. The assistants are the ones who are welcomed with open arms at the end of the summer and then sent off with tears when they are forced to go back to their respective locations. Many of the assistants do not want to leave after spending any amount of time here.

Prior to coming to L'Arche, I had my own end of summer traditions. These involved getting through the last of the summer books I wanted to read, getting ready for school with new pens and notebooks and buying back-to-school clothes. Now as an assistant, it involves attempting to detach a part of my heart that is so securely in the community. I don't have the money to buy new clothes to go back to school, but I make due with old ones and hand me downs from friends. The new school supplies still bring me a measure of joy, but not enough to cover the pain of having to leave. There is also the tradition of packing and attempting to figure out which city all of my things are in. That is one of the problems with living in three places at once.

Traditions have always been important in my life. They are a way for me to mark the days and make small events more important. I'm beginning to understand the importance of traditions in a community such as this one. While there is a tradition of goodbye, there is also a tradition of welcome. Those who leave can leave with the knowledge that they will not be forgotten and that they are loved. That is what makes this end of summer tradition even more important for everyone.

On The Road

I drove to London today. I cried for most of the way on the 401. I was on a very familiar path for my feet. This time it felt different though.

Most times when I'm heading to London I can't wait to be there. I love the idea of going back to visit my friends, head out for a beer and sleep in. This time though, it felt very different. Not only was I only heading down for one night, I was heading down to simply drop off things at my apartment there. I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with the people who I know there.

For the most part of my life I am on the road in some way or another. I have three permanent homes. I also have a desire to travel and the ability to make home in many places. This is just one of the things that keeps me on the road. I'm trying to maintain the houses and the relationships that make these places home.

One thing that being on the road has taught me is that it is never easy to leave one place you love, even when you are on the road to another place you love. There is a certain freedom to being on the road. A freedom of being able to move and to take some things with you. It's the things you leave behind that make it hard to move.

In the next few days I'm going to be on the road a lot. It may be for very short trips, but it will still be the idea of moving, both myself and others. I don't particularly like the idea of moving myself, but I know that I will have to soon. I'm continuing to count the days and dread the day when I am on the road again.

My Own Trinity

The concept of the Trinity is something that can be difficult to explain in terms that most Christians can understand. There are few ways that it has been explained to me that I can understand. It is most often left for those who study theology and commit their lives to topics such as this.

I know that I don't understand much of what is preached. Other days, I understand it completely. I understand now because I have found my own Trinity.

This summer I am called to be a great deal of things in the community in which I live. One of the men most often calls me to be a child. I am also called to be a parent. Most often though, I am called to be a friend, whether it is over a cup of tea in the morning or a glass of wine at night.

I've learned this summer that I don't have to limit myself to simply one aspect in my life. I can be so many things to one person. I am not simply a friend, I am also a child and a parent. I am someone who can do many things and be many things and not find any of those things to be mutually exclusive. It is the concept of the Trinity applied to the life of a teenager. Living a definition is more than enough explanation for me.

The "S" Word

There was a great comic in the paper today. The first frame was a woman saying to a friend "Don't say the S word!" The second frame was her friend saying "What? September?" The woman replies "La, la, la, la, la . . ." That about describes how I feel right now.

Back-to-school is a phrase I hear a lot in advertising right now. I don't want to go back. A lot of my friends are looking forward to getting back to the social life and the life together. Their summer jobs were more jobs that do their best to suck the life out of you quickly and not replace what they have taken. I have a different summer.

I live in community with people who I love and who love me. The result of this is that I dread September for more reasons than the average student. I don't want September to be here because it means I have to leave the home I have found here. It is completely and totally irrelevant that I get to come back. It is simply the act of leaving that is the hardest part. Even now, I am attempting to pack to take things to London, but I'm really not because I have no desire to.

The S word is creeping closer and closer to me every day. There is one man who is looking forward to September coming because it means he gets to celebrate his birthday. I'm kind of looking forward to celebrating that as well, but I don't want to leave. Regardless of if I want to or not though, 17 more days and I will have to.

Walking Together

I love the people who I live with. They are the most incredible group of people who welcome with open arms and open hearts. The best part of my day today was going out for coffee with one of the core members here.

The best part of going out with this man is his incredible sense of trust in whoever he's with. He doesn't see as well as many of us do, but he sees so much more than most of us. When you begin to walk he reaches out his arm in an invitation to walk with him. It is more incredible than anything else.

In life, there is so rarely an invitation to walk with someone. We have become so independent and value the ability to stand on our own more than the ability to reach out to each other. There are so few people in the world who can reach out an open hand to hold onto another. It is mostly children and lovers who can reach out a hand to be held. When others do so, they are seen to be weak.

I have learned this summer that walking together is the most rewarding thing. I tended to walk alone for the most part before this summer. It was easier to make decisions based solely on what I want to do as opposed to what two people want to do or more. I have begun to take steps this summer with someone by my side. It's an interesting experience to live like that. I have to admit that I hope it continues.

Walking together is no longer a sign of weakness. In a time when strength is only pushy and egotistical, it is weakness and the ability to reach out that shows true strength.

Opposed to Change

In another century I would have been termed a Luddite. For those of you who have ever had the amusement of watching my wrestle with a new piece of technology, you have a decent idea of what I mean. In the past few years of my life, there have been a few massive changes. I don't usually like them.

In the community I live in, I have to be away for some periods of time. I hate it. I would much prefer to stay here all the time. The hardest part for me is to come back and find that things have once again changed. They don't stay the same when I leave. The lives of those here move on at a different rate than mine, still changing and evolving, simply without me.

I'm opposed to change mostly when it happens without me. When I'm a part of it, I really don't even notice that it happens. It's only when I leave and then come back that I notice the change and I don't always like it.

The hardest part of living in the community I live in is that the change that I come back to is often not the most positive one. It's hard to watch the people I have come to love and care for in positions of pain and aging. This being the first time in my life that I have ever been in the position of primary caregiver to anyone, I am beginning to understand the toll that care giving takes on those who give.

The interesting thing about change is that most times it happens without you even realizing it. It just creeps up on you. I am becoming aware that I have changed a great deal in the past few years just due to the circumstances my life has placed me in. I have both grown up and grown out. I didn't notice most of the changes until they had happened and I had become a more mature, responsible person. It is never too late to continue changing, and in fact, that is the only thing that keeps life interesting, but sometimes it can draw opposition. I know that my growing up has been hard for my parents to deal with because they want me to stay their little girl and now I am a big one.

Sometimes the change in life is really healthy. Other times it is not. I don't know which kind of change I am most opposed to, since I seem to be in the middle of quite a lot of it right now. I'm trying to be less of a Luddite and simply go with the flow and sometimes it works. Other times, I remember why my colours are ranked the way they are. Whichever way I choose to react to it, life goes on and that means change. The only think I can change is my reaction to it.

Romance of War

I love M*A*S*H. I have many memories of this show growing up. I used to sit on my parents bed with my parents and my sister and watch the late night reruns of the seasons. I have seen a large majority of this show simply because of wandering in to say good night to my parents and it's incredible.

I recently found the last two seasons on DVD and have been tearing through the tenth season. It's interesting because the episodes developed a lot into a more mature way of seeing war and dealing with the stress of life. The characters also develop into people who have more depth than the simple pranks that they pull and the affairs that they have.

One of the episodes that hit me so hard recently was about a war correspondent who was at the 4077 writing about six pints of blood that had come from the States. He was following the blood from the readers to the soldiers it would help. It was interesting to hear the stories of how they were injured and what he sent home over the wire. He said that it was to make war seem as though it was full of glory and romance. I have a very difficult time with that.

I am currently waiting to hear if a friend will be posted to convoy duty in Afghanistan. There are few worries that occupy my mind more than that. I am also waiting to hear from a soldier who was posted to Lebanon. But I have been waiting for a response to that for more than six months.

When I open the newspaper in the morning, there is almost always the face of another soldier who barely looks old enough to drink. Then there are the details of when his body will being shipped home.

I have no idea why the idea of war as a romantic ideal came into being. I don't think there has ever been a time in the history of the world when war has actually been romantic. There is nothing romantic about pain, separation and death. There is nothing romantic about fathers not coming home and young girls losing their sweethearts.

Every time I think about all those who never made it home, lyrics from John Denver's "The Wall" always come into my mind. "And every name's a father, or a husband or a son. Or a daughter or a brother or a cousin to someone." Every name, every person lost is someone important to someone. There is no one who is not hurt when there is another life lost on the battlefields of whatever fight is found to be worth fighting at the time. There will always be pain when someone leaves and even more when they do not come home in the way they were supposed to. There is no romance in war. There is no romance in fighting, especially when it is something that you do not believe in. There is no glory in pain and there is no support for those who are left behind or those who can come walking back.

We want there to be romance in war. We want there to be something worth fighting for. We want there to be a reason that we send many of our young men away to not come home. We want there to be a reason that the ones who do come home are sometimes tormented by what they have seen. We need there to be something that takes them away from us. The ugly truth is that there isn't. There is no glory and there is no romance. There is only pain.

Getting Lost

Yesterday I almost got lost in Toronto. Today I would give anything to get lost anywhere.

My sense of direction is horrible. I can get lost anywhere. If you don't believe, watch me. I will get lost trying to find the simplest place in the world. Which is why I always carry a cell phone and the number of the person I am trying to reach. Putting me downtown without a map and very little idea of where I am going tends to be a bad idea.

Today, I just feel overwhelmed. Things I was expecting to remain in my life aren't and the prospect scares me. In order to deal with that I am attempting to lose myself in a book. It's sort of working.

I have always been a bookworm. For the majority of my life I have been lost in another world, another time, another place, another person's adventures. I get lost in a place different from where I am because I had to. I was not the most attractive child and that tended to lead to teasing and most of my time at school being spent alone. I can remember vividly what it felt like to sit on the hill, all alone, just enjoying life. It didn't bother me for the most part because I always someone else there, always another adventure for me to be a part of, at least for a little while.

I can't understand the people who don't love to read. I don't understand why some people read so slowly. I have never been that way. I can be in four different centuries by the time I have to eat lunch. In the time it takes to watch a movie, I will have walked with someone else through the conflicts they face and the resolution they can come to. I got lost from the place I was, usually the grassy hill at my elementary school, and got to go a place where I wasn't teased and was beautiful. I got to escape the choices I didn't want to make and the chances I didn't want to take.

Some days I wish that I could go back to that. Life was so much simpler when I could claim the adventures of the characters whose lives were more interesting and exciting than my own. The choices I don't want to make now are still staring me in the face when I come up for air from whichever location I have landed in. The chances I don't take stare back at me accusingly for not doing more with my time. I don't get the luxury of getting lost as easily anymore. There are too many people waiting for me to allow me to fly instantly to other places. Somedays I think that this must be what it's like to be a mother, having someone constantly calling for you and needing some form of attention.

My idea of losing myself or getting lost has changed drastically over the past few years. Faced with the idea of deadlines and difficult decisions, losing myself tends to work better in meditation or even a quick nap. I haven't had enough time to read lately and so my imagination is what is going while I cook dinner, clean bedrooms and run errands. While writing papers at university, music seems to be the name of the game. There is always something for me to lose myself in (legal, not harmful things) that keeps me sane. For those minutes, I don't have to be me. I can be whoever I want and be wherever I want. Even lost in the crowds of Toronto, I don't have to be there. I can be alone in a Tibetan monastery somewhere in the mountains of somewhere that is not here.

Whatever my method of getting lost, I can always find a way. Somedays it takes more effort than others, but I can always get lost. I also always get to come home.

Not What I Planned

I am a planner. I like to know what is happening from one day to the next. Beyond that, I have to have plans for the next years of my life. I am not the "live in the moment" kind of person. I really wish I was, but I'm not.

A friend was teasing me yesterday about my plans for the next few years of my life. My previous plan for my life was to fall in love with someone I met at university, find a job, get married and have a few kids more or less in the same area I grew up in. Update of reality to that dream. I have my dream job. I don't want to leave. I have met someone who is unabashedly not Canadian. I doubt that I will have kids in the next few years simply because of how much I'm going to be moving around. And there is a distinct possibility that I may have to decide which country I'm going to live in to raise a family.

Throughout high school I had a very simple plan for my life. Now I don't. I had no idea I would find a summer job that might end up being the rest of my life. I didn't plan on falling for someone who is not Canadian. I didn't plan on developing tendinitis that will put any form of musical career on hold for an indefinite period of time. I didn't plan on so many things in my life.

It's hard to find the life that I have planned. I don't really know where it has gone. Somewhere gone with the wind perhaps. I don't like letting go of the dreams that I had. It leads to confusion in my life. I'm not sure if that is supposed to stop me from dreaming or simply allow me to have dreams more open to change. I don't know if I would be able to change my penchant for planning, but I think I can give it a shot.

It's strange for life to turn out in ways that you don't plan. Somedays it's exciting and other days it's terrifying. These days those, I'm a little bit less terrified . . .

No Happy Endings

I love happy endings. I love it when all the conflicts are resolved. Lately though, the idea of the morning after happily ever after has been haunting me.

I have seen so many relationships in my life. Some of them are easy, but most of them aren't. I have personally failed to create so many relationships that work and the idea of happily ever after doesn't seem to hold a lot of water with me.

Hollywood has so many ideas of how relationships are supposed to work. At the end of movies, there is the happily ever after. But that's the end. You never find out what happens after the wedding, after the vacation, after the life change. The credits roll and two people have a new and happy life together. There is nothing like that in real life.

There are always weddings, but there are also the mornings after. After the fairy tale part of every relationship there is every morning of the rest of your lives. There are the bills that have to be paid, the hard choices to make and all the little details of every day. There might be children screaming through the middle of the night, or the pain of realizing that there will never be biological children.

I suppose the idea I have the most trouble with is the idea of endings is that a relationship is not an ending. Relationships are the beginnings in our lives. They allow us to grow and develop in ways that we couldn't have without someone new in our lives. We get to begin again and make a new story with someone else. We may not be able to change what has happened to us in the past, but we always have the chance to start a new story.

Waiting on the World to Change

I have to admit that I have begun to hate reading the newspaper. I am a depressingly happy person some days and it's hard to read all the news. Because most of it is bad.

I've been listening to a lot of John Mayer lately because one of the men I live with really likes him. One of the songs that has become stuck in my ear is "Waiting on the World to Change." Every time I read the news and wish that it was different, the lyrics creep back into my head.

"It's hard to beat the system when your standing at a distance so we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change." From past experience, I know that it is hard to beat the system when you are not in the system. It's also hard to beat the system when you are in the system. And you can wait all you want. That really isn't going to make the world change.

I wish that wishing was all that it took to make the world change. I wish that it only took a group of people who wanted no more war to stop all the fighting going on and bring the soldiers home to the families that miss them. I wish that there was food enough for all, that there was no more pain and that everyone could have a place to call home. In reality, I cannot change all this on my own. For the most part there is very little that I can change.

What I do over the summer is live in a community. Some people see this as a good solution to the problems faced by those who have different abilities in our society. The reality is that as incredible as the community is and the idea that drives it, this is not a solution. I want it to be. I really really want it to be, but it's not. There is simple too great of a need in the world that doesn't allow this to be the final answer to heal all those who have been hurt in so many ways.

There are many things that I want to change about the world. There are many things that I will never have the power to as I have no intention of running for politics. Despite the fact that I know I will never be able to change much about the world that I don't like, I am not waiting on the world to change. What I do is not enough. I know it's not and every day I try to give more than what I gave the day before, but it still won't be enough. What is enough is that I'm not waiting on the world to change. I'm making it happen.

Motivation

Another one of the counselors from camp spoke about the idea of motivation. He had just come up for one week from a job in the city and had found it hard to find the motivation to go and work in a factory for five days a week. The people he works with also found it hard to find the motivation for their jobs. For many of them it simply is to put food on the table at the end of the week.

During the year, I am a morning person. I am up earlier than most university students and I have never missed a morning class due to sleeping in. I have almost never missed a class due to anything. The one class I skipped at university was because of urging of my wise man and the fact my TA was an ex. I don't really know what motivates me to get up so early at university. It clearly is not the normal thing to do when you don't usually have classes until later in the day.

Some mornings it's the thought of having a really hot shower that beat me out of bed before anyone else. Other days it was the idea of getting up to watch the sun, or the making muffins or cookies before my housemate woke up. It could have been the crushing weight of the idea of the work that the day lay before me. I also loved the idea of having the whole day laying before me with no mistakes in it yet. Perhaps that thought should have kept me in bed rather than getting me out of it . . .

Over the summer, I have an entirely different motivation for getting out of bed. In the morning I have five people (or more) who are waiting for me downstairs for breakfast and medication. If I am not up, then there is someone to miss me. When I am feeling sick, I can't be once I walk down the stairs. It feels like I have another family that I have to take care of when I'm here. That is motivation enough for me to get out of bed.

At the end of the day (or perhaps in the morning) there has to be some motivation having the day. It can be someone waiting for you to get up in the morning, a task to complete or something that just makes you feel good. The motivation we have can come from many places. It can come from so many places that we should make sure what motivates us is something healthy for us. Something that both brings us joy and keeps us out of trouble.

I know where my motivation comes from (at least most days). Where does yours come from?

Identity

This morning I went to a worship service at my sister's camp. It was interesting because there was no real sermon. Five of the counselors shared part of their experiences with those who were there. One of the counselors there talked about the idea of identity and how we define that.

A quote I thought about throughout his talk was this. "Be more concerned with your character than your reputation because your character is who you are and your reputation is simply how people see you." The interesting thing about identity is that much of it is defined by how people see you.

There are certain words I can use to describe myself. I really have no idea what they are though. Right now I'm not sure what I would say about myself. The top of the list would be that I am a L'Arche assistant. If I asked other people what they thought of me, there would be a few other answers.

To some, I am a friend. To one, I am a sister. To two, I am a daughter. I am a niece, granddaughter and a lover. I am a housemate and a student. I am sometimes a musician and sometimes a writer. I am a reader and a lover of words. I think that is what most people would describe me as.

The formation of identity is something very interesting. There is something about it that defies explanation. We don't form who we are deliberately. Sometimes we are completely unaware of how others see us. There is the way that we want to be seen by others and then how we are seen by others. I would like to be seen as a kind caring person, but I know that I am not always that way. I can also be a mean, busy person who doesn't have enough time to stop and listen to the people who need me to.

I'm at the point in my life where many of those who are my age are struggling to form their own identity. We want to form an identity that fits who we are and also who we are going to grow into. we want to define our place in the world, but we also want to be able to change it. Our identity is very difficult and very interesting. There is very little that we won't claim and also very little that we will. We are interested in everything and not wanting to ever limit where we are or what we want to do. Our identity is fixed and yet not.

When you think about your identity. Look at yourself and also at how people see you because that's what really defines our identity.

Two Voices, But Just One

My sister came up to the cottage for her day off today. And I got the other half of my voice back.

I come from a musical family. If there isn't music playing, there is music being created, be it through voice or instruments. My sister and I used to sing in public on a regular basis, and people would ask us if we sang together often. That was usually the point where they didn't know we're sisters. When we're together, there is rarely a moment when we aren't singing together and there seem to be no limits to what we will sing.

We have a favourite song that tends to get sung at the cottage and we sang it while holding children and drying dishes tonight. For that moment, it didn't seem to matter that we haven't sung together in weeks. It didn't matter that we didn't really remember all the words at every point. It didn't matter that our voices are extremely different when it comes to training, range and quality. In all the moments we were singing, there weren't two voices in the cottage. There was only one.

It's strange to fit back into something so simple in my life so easily. I never expected to be able to do something like that. I tend to think that the things I leave behind will be hard to return to and that means it's easier to just not go back. If I did that though, I would miss out on finding my one voice. My voice would constantly be separate instead of part of something else that way it was with my sister.

We sometimes worry about losing our individuality when we partner someone else. We worry that we won't get the credit for the good job we did. We think we risk losing ourselves and not being able to get that back. We don't seem to realize how incredible it is to get lost with someone else. To blend to the point where you're not sure where either one of you is. It's an addicting and exhilarating feeling.

I lost my voice tonight. There were two voices at the beginning of the night, but I heard only one.

One Step Closer To Heaven

I just got to the cottage. Well, not just, but it feels like close enough to just. We have a sign over the door of our screened in porch that says "Life at the cottage is like heaven on earth." At this moment, I couldn't agree more.

My cottage is at the heart of cottage country on a small lake. Somedays a very small lake. When I was a younger teenager, I missed the excitement of a larger lake and more neighbors. As I'm getting older (sort of) I really enjoy the calmer lake and appreciate what it was like to bring up two young girls to have the chance to play within the thousands of trees and see the thing called the Milky Way which doesn't appear very often in the city.

This weekend was different for me for many reasons. It is again one of the few weekends I get off over the summer. I only get one weekend a month with which to travel to whichever destination I should so choose to visit. For the most part, it is to the cottage that I am bound. This time there were not only my parents and my sister, but also my mom's best friend, her two kids and my partner. Or so we were called because of our matching bracelets. This was the third time in my life that I have brought a man to my cottage that I have invited and the first time it has been someone who I'm involved with.

I was worried for a time that he might not feel the same way about the cottage that I do. Not growing up in Canada with the tradition of going north for the weekends can make a lot of people feel differently about my paradise. That and the slightly large dock spiders that make an appearance every once in awhile. I had been waiting for the longest time to get back to the cottage, since the last time I was there, and wanted to share it with someone who appreciated it.

I will always say that my cottage is the place on earth that is closest to heaven. And for me it is. For the past few years I've been looking for a partner to share that with me. Now I've found it. And I've gotten one step closer to heaven.

Cookie Communion

The sunshine in my house made cookies this morning. As we were waiting for the cookies to be ready, I pulled out a package of vanilla wafers and the three of us in the kitchen all had one. I had to put it in the mouth of one of the group and then he proclaimed this to be cookie communion. And at that moment, there was no other communion I needed to receive.

Prior to this summer, I had a very narrow idea of communion. Communion was what you received from a priest at the front of the church in the middle of the service. End of discussion. Now I realize that I have communion every day with the people I live with. I have communion in a cup of tea or a glass of wine. I have communion with others when I sit down to eat, whether breakfast or dinner.

One of the reasons I have attended an Anglican church on a more regular basis over the past years is because of the communion served every week there. I always felt a deeper connection because of that and more centered for the week to come. I don't attend an Anglican church over the summer here. I tend to end up at the United church, which left me feeling empty for awhile because of the lack of regular communion. I felt empty until I realized that I received communion every moment of every day from the people I live with. I am constantly offered food and drink to fill me in so many ways. I do not lack in any affection or caring when I'm here and I am so much healthier for it. I'm dreading my return to school when I will lose five or ten pounds simply because I do not remember to eat and earn back the dark circles under my eyes that seem to be permanent while I'm there.

Communion seems to a foreign concept when you make it to university. There is simply a lack of connection between people. No one takes the time to do things simply for another person, or at least very rarely. When something is done for someone else, something is expected in return. Very rarely have I had someone bring me breakfast in bed just because, or give me a back rub because they think I need it. There is always something expected in return for gestures of kindness. Perhaps that is why I will miss my cookie communion so much upon my return.

Until then though, I will continue to live in community and be in constant communion with those around me. Especially over cookies, which really are very good.

Clinging to the Moments

It is the first day of August and I cannot help but wish it was only the first day of May. This desire is not only a desire to not go back to school which afflicts many at this time of the summer, but a desire to stay where I'm living right now.

Over the summer, I don't have a job. I have a very different life from what I lead while at school, and I love it. I love the challenges and the joys. I love the little things and the big things. I love being a part of birthday celebrations and even the bad days. It is all worth it, no matter how hard it can be.

I don't want to leave in September. If I had a better option than returning to school, such as staying at L'Arche, I would take it and not finish my degree. Since that's not really an option, I am returning to school and coming back as often as possible to be with one of my families.

The countdown has begun until I leave. I have 31 more mornings and nights to spend here. In that time, there will be a blessing, two birthdays and a good bye party. There will be good days and bad days. There will be some drama, possibly a first date and much laughter. There will be glasses of wine on the porch or in the basement, conversations about music, more Christmas music and learning about new recipes. There will be some nights for coffee out and some nights to stay in. In all of these, I am clinging to each one.

Last summer when I left, I didn't cling to the moments as I am doing now. I had little idea of what I was leaving behind at the time and thought I would be able to leave easily. I was unaware of how attached I was at the time when I returned to school. This time, I'm not.

When I returned at the beginning of the summer, I cried because I was so thankful to be back. I clung to the moments then as I am clinging to them now. Everything I do, I'm aware that it could be the last time I have the chance to do it for a long time. I went out with one of the men I live with for ice cream last night. It was the best night I've had in a long time. It is moments and times like that that I'm clinging to with all of my heart right now. When I do leave, these are the memories that will sustain me and support me through the moments that I don't want to be in school anymore.

While I still have 31 days left, I am clinging to every moment as though it will be the last, although I know it won't. It won't be the last time I drive people to work, or cook dinner or make breakfast. Those things will always be a part of my life whether I am aware of them or not. I will always carry them with me.