I wore these earrings today, which I bought a year ago:

They’re metal and quite heavy. I walked over to a table at lunch where several of my friends were sitting. The guys immediately noticed the earrings and starting discussing what they looked like (gongs, apparently, or palm fronds). The conversation then turned into a list of all of the things that should be made into earrings.

Triangle (ding ding! Dinner’s ready, folks!)
Grandfather clock
measuring tape
pepper spray
dental floss
ear warmers
ears!
hammers/screwdrivers
pez dispensers
tambourines/gongs
mp3 players
digital billboards
spinners
tv screens
satellite dishes

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we felt the silence, in the way a child knows to be quiet when the room hushes suddenly.
it wasn’t heavy…it lifted the heart, and around we went
our shoes in varied sounds and rhythms.
the city moved on, in the usual way, and in our one way we spent forever
following the thousands before.

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Handwritten letters

Outtakes at the end of movies

Emails from my little sister

Sing-alongs

Laughing and not being able to stop

Saturday morning brunches

Hearing from you

(I Like: #1,#2,#3, #4, #5)

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Today I noticed that we have 99 days until a Very Important Event (I should have noticed 100, but it has been a little busy around here!).

Last night I spent time with people I usually don’t see very often, and it was a breath of fresh air. We had coffee (well, I ate an entire meal, dinner #2) and had some conversation that made my brain happy. By this I mean there were ideas and conversations that were entirely different than my usual interactions, with new stories and amusing anecdotes. Perfect.

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Sweet little lady, bare feet in the summer grass. Her eyes closed, face up to the sky, there is forever stretched around her.

Perfect, perfect, and her heart just stops just one moment as she breathes in the universe…as the years followed behind her, never quite catching up. She smiled at those who least expected it. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault (although it could be someone’s fault), there was no one to blame, but those poor pretty hearts were left in the dust by the side of country roads.

Fierce little lady, with dark bright eyes and sorrow slightly tinged, her bare feet shift as she slowly pulls one piece of grass, then two, and makes a bridge for insects to cross.

Memories have a tendency to pile up, to push the stories out of the way, to allow us to forget more than we remember, to only remember the strangest things. Her stories never had the right audience, her hands weaving in the air, but she only had one or three really good stories. The trick was to stay quiet, to stretch ears beyond the confines of the room, and while she had forgotten to do this for a few years, it came back to her eventually.

Would it actually work to roll down the hill? It was soft and green, but the end of the hills disappoint exponentially as our expectations are raised. God knew that our eyes wanted blue skies, green grass, pieces of paper covered in squiggly lines, hands grasped in hands, pots of stew simmering, bird feathers, rows of trees, and bare feet in hot sand.

Quiet little lady, she gathers up her garlands of wilted flowers and pieces of stories, and walks down the hill toward home.

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This morning was a little ridiculous. Lucia came over to eat breakfast with me before the Celebration of the Birth of the Bab (we’re on a lunar calendar for some Holy Days here). In the span of 20 minutes, I broke 2 eggs (at different times), a full jar of minced garlic, and two cups.

Broken glass and food everywhere. And I dropped some vegetables and silverware while cooking. I’m a mess. The thing is…this isn’t normal for me. I am not a messy person, and I rarely break things. Ah well…it made for a good laugh. Maybe this is a sign that I should stay out of the kitchen for a while.

Tonight is cold and windy. Our flat is exceptionally drafty, so even though I have my heater on, my hands are slowly turning to icicles. I’m going to snuggle into bed now and enjoy my sleep.

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There were boxes of old books in the parking garage today, marked “FREE!”, with that musty smell and slick dust feeling. We dug through them, hugging the discoveries to our chests. The tip of my nose starting twitching, the usual reaction to things that have been sitting forgotten on a shelf for too long.

One of my most treasured memories is standing in Uncle C.E.’s office about 2 months before he passed away in 2005. He had a fantastic library of books, especially first editions of Baha’i books that I’d never seen before. He showed me pictures of his family from 50 years ago, told me about his childhood, and watched me as I carefully pulled one book off a shelf, then another.

I just remember looking around at him, sitting in his leather chair, smiling at me. His health at that point was not good, but we did not know that he would die of cancer so soon after. No one did. As Carmen and I drove away from the house, we started crying…something told me I would not see him in this world again.

We were family, even though there was no blood relation. He took a few pictures of Carmen and I in the garden: “Stand there…smile!” I got those pictures later from Aunt G., and cried when I saw them. He loved us so much…asking questions: “What are you doing next? Are you looking for jobs? Ten years from now?”; and telling us that he was proud of us. Telling us kids to take care of each other…sometimes I feel like I’ve failed at that one. The 5 of us are scattered across the globe.

Every time I stopped by his office while I was in school, he would ask me how my schooling was going, if I was studying enough (probably not!), and he would just look at me and I would want to try harder, do better.

I miss him. If this was a piece of paper, the ink would be running off the page right now.

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My heart is in a wistful mood,
my tiny little sorrows shake the dust from my soul.
My laughter has strong intention behind it.
Music with piano and soft whispered tones reaches inside me,
perhaps in 43,200 minutes words will be spoken again
and then too late.

Since my words stumble, fall, put on band-aids, and promptly fall again, songs must step in to assist.

Brett Dennen- Desert Sunrise
Cinematic Orchestra- To Build a Home
Joshua Radin- Winter

———————————————-Everything, and nothing really new. Ran into some friends who were on pilgrimage, had some fun coincidences, finally settled into my flat (after 2 months!), watched the miniscule amount of fireworks, went to a much-needed devotional at Lucia’s, hang around with the usual crowd, discussed possible day trips around Israel, interesting discussion with a friend, lunches full of laughter…This last week has been full of preparation for a large meeting on Friday, every night after work…I’m excited, I know it will go well, and if things mess up it is ok. Really, my entire term of service here has been about patience and detachment.

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