Infusion

I'm sitting here on a cool August night sipping tea and savoring this privilege to contemplate. This is a lovely moment. Usually life is spinning so fast and changing at warp speed that I'm afraid stopping would cause a colossal domino effect to the natural order. It's such a rare opportunity to appreciate all that has happened, is happening, and will happen. It's even more rare to have the ability to stop taking it all in and just sip tea. This is as close as I get. It's a little embarrassing to admit, but the tea I'm drinking is very mainstream and Americanized. It actually came from a bag, in paper packaging from *mumbles* the grocery store. I know, I know, this is a travesty to all that tea should be and a blatant mockery to the history and delicate beauty of true tea, but it was there and I was curious. Somewhere there is a jar of beautiful jasmine pearls with my name all over it, but this will do for now.

The tea, in all honesty, isn't the point though. I'm just in awe of where I am. Not just physically, although watching the sun set from this terrace is amazing, but just where I am in life. It's overwhelming. When life takes me to the pinnacle of possibility, I feel as if I am in a free fall; and in one respect I am. Life is and should be a series of steps into pure faith. No one, I do believe, truly lives that way, or at least recognizes that they do. We live in a world of statistics, basing so many decisions on chances and odds, never fully accepting that life isn't within our total control. When I'm driven to moments like these, I'm scared to oblivion naturally, but I'm so extremely grateful that life isn't within my complete control. There is no way I could have planned for beautiful moments like these, or imagined the turns life would take that have led me to the wisdom I've gained from them, and there is absolutely no way I could find the appreciation I have now. So, after stepping off the ledge, I'm reminded of many things that keep my faith afloat and my heart and mind from drowning in fear. I'm not concerning myself with the odds that are for or against me because for each and every person that every statistic is based on, they had their own individual battle of fear and faith. Life isn't about numbers, it's about our own journeys. I would never want to look back at this time in my life and think that I really beat the odds or how much of a chance I had a different outcome, I just want to look back and know that I was lead by God, being completely and utterly blessed.

Transience

I'll say goodbye tomorrow, to the faces I long to see;

Move through a sea of faces that mean nothing to me. 

Searching for a warmth I can hold dear,

But it fades to a cold façade the closer I draw near. 

Why can't I float along and grow as a dandelion where I land?

I long to fall back in place, once again a flower in your hand. 

This journey moves us all forward whisking through this transient life.

All seem to seek refuge beyond the worries and strife. 

We bid goodbye too soon to the ones we wish we knew

And to the ones that we knew well, the sweet dandelion that we blew. 

I will take tomorrow and all the mysteries it brings,

As long as I can keep my yesterdays, their remnants blowing in the breeze.

Goldilocks

This may start off a little familiar. I have written about a similar topic not too long ago, but in light of the post-holiday, return-line season, I found myself, yet again, being challenged to find the right fit. Sometimes when I go shopping I wonder who came up with sizes and why these are the ones that stuck. At what point did society decide that all women must  fall perfectly within these 24 (or so) numbers and decide to start mass producing everything under the impression that there are only 24 different sizes in all of the female population? Well, I'm here to tell you that there are at least 25, because I happen to not fit perfectly in anything. Not even shoe sizes come easy; each pair is always a little to wide, or small, or shaped funny. As I sat in the shoe department recently surrounded by a bunch of boxes and shoes that didn't feel right, I was reminded of an old fairy tale. Then I did what any seemingly happy-go-lucky shoe-loving woman would do, I started thinking about this situation existentially: do I really have a proper fit anywhere? Life should be custom made for each individual, yet here I am living in housing that was created to fit the "average" military family, getting paid based on "average" income, taking classes based on "average" student populous, and trying to find a job in the "average" economic market. I'm not typically the rebellious type, but I can see that this is another situation in which I am not a good fit. I've tried to squeeze into a city that was too small and fluff up my ego to fit a bloated steroetype, but it doesn't work. I am who I am and it has taken me a long time to grow comfortable with the ever-evolving person that I am. It might be a battle to find my place, but I am secure enough to know that this isn't it.

With this epiphany comes another potential problem that Wayne's been calling "the grass is greener" syndrome. I do not want to keep chasing this mirage of paradise simply to find that no matter where I go, I'm the problem that I run into. My solution for this is not to follow Goldi's footsteps and eat blindly from whatever bowl I find more appealing at the moment. Every place I've been so far might not have been the right fit for me, but it was worth it to try on. So, whenever the time comes to make a decision to leave, I want to cautiously consider all aspects. I think I've reached a point where I want the comfort of a perfect fit without feeling like I'm settling into a place that belongs to someone else. Also unlike the coifed towhead that we are familiar with, I am unable to just hop about trying to find the place that is most suited for me. I am not alone in the search and we have obligations that we must consider. It's also important to be realistic in the search for the right place. I've lived in places that were always too hot and always too cold, but I think the worst is living in a place that is wrong in all the other aspects. Not to say weather doesn't play a role in comfort, but just because something has a perfect facade doesn't mean it's the right place for you, right? It's a matter of understanding what compromises you are willing to make. I'd rather deal with shoveling three feet of snow everyday for nine months out of the year or sweat while I blow dry my hair every morning than to wake up in the most beautiful place in the world knowing that I'm not home.

The story of Goldilocks is about a curious girl that finds herself in the wrong place and instead of trying to understand how she got there or (more importantly) how she can create a place of her own, she creates a disaster in a place that doesn't belong to her and runs away screaming evading a certain "breaking and entering" charge.  I may be blonde and I'm sure this process will include putting up with a lot more than a bowl or two of subpar porridge, but I promise I won't fall into the same mess as Goldilocks.