Day 241

It was just starting to rain when he said it. A slow, quiet patter on the windows and the soft murmur of thunder worked in tandem to gently cushion the words that my heart had tacitly acknowledged for years, but that still seemed stark and  foreign when spoken aloud.

"Sarah, you want to fall in love so bad."

And because this accusation came from an old friend who I treasure, in part, for his propensity towards blunt observations, I was able to reply just as honestly,

"I know."

And I do. 

I hope this doesn't come as too startling of an admission. That it won't scare anyone one away from me in blog life or me in real life. (You know who you are.)

It shouldn't.

At least I don't think so.

Because if we were to have an impromptu exchange of vulnerable, unfeigned declarations - you and me, right now - chances are you would look me in the eye with a kind of quiet daring that accompanies these types of conversations and tell me that to be in love is all you really want too.

And then if I know you at all, which I like to think I do, you'll laugh softly and look away and start to list off at random what you think that means. That love you want. The shape of the heart you hope will match with yours.

Before long you're voice will fade as you reach the end of what your willing to throw out in the universe, maybe for fear of jinxing it, maybe because there are just some things best left unsaid, maybe because the person that seems so tangible in your mind will turn into some frivolous figment if you keep going. It doesn't matter. Either way I'll understand. And we will sit in amicable silence for a moment lost in thought until eventually I'll paint a you picture of my own.

I'll tell you that I want someone who will be monogamous and nice to his mother. I want someone who likes musicals but knows to shut his mouth when I'm watching Lost. I want someone who actually empties the dishwasher instead of just taking out forks as needed, like I do. 

I want someone to sing to me in a low, broken sort of way when I'm sleepy and who will play with my hair while he does. I want someone who loves John Steinbeck and Bill Waterson with equal amounts of enthusiasm. I want someone who doesn't think scruff and v-necks are only for hipsters, but who will still shave for Sunday and who knows suits make me swoon. 

I want someone who will hold my hand in front of his friends and who secretly wonders how to steal all the art when he goes to museums. I want someone who appreciates the word melancholy and realizes that, for me at least, it is the only word for the days when summer fades to fall.

I want someone who will always remember who he is and act accordingly. 

But most of all, I want him to love me desperately. Even when I'm old.

And that's what I want.

Day 222

sometimes  

I see  

something 

and realize 

that it completely encompasses how I imagine my   

someday

this is one of those times.

enjoy.
 _______________________________________________________



MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

EAT from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

LEARN from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

Day 220

Since I was a young child, I have counted among my most constant companions a smattering of freckles that dot the bridge of my nose, easing lazily down to pool across my cheekbones. 

On the best of days I like to think of these as sun kisses, and I treasure them as a point of pride at my body’s unique reaction to the elements, as if all the light and energy in the world gathered together and gently dusted my pale skin with proof of our fond encounters. 

However there are other days, just as frequent in occurrence, where I curse the rosy flecks for their indecisiveness; too pale to be distinct but too prominent to be entirely ignored or masked. It has always come as a surprise to me how some notice the happy marks with immediate interest, even glee, while others, occasionally long time friends, can look upon my countenance as if for the first time and note with astonishment the offending flaws.  

While I alone am generally content with the freckles, I find myself, however unconsciously, trying my best to blend them as one solid, flawless mask; a façade of blemish-free perfection. In the rare event that someone takes note of my “blemishes”, they become honorary members of an exclusive club made up of those who have viewed me in my most natural, vulnerable and relaxed state – a world of fresh-faced, barefooted wonder. 

I have found that my face is not the only part of me that is freckled. My heart, too, is marked with loving signs of exposure to the elements of a life of trials and unpleasant realities. And yet, just as with my physical presentation, these flaws are generally concealed in an attempt to maintain an illusion of perfection and imperviousness. 

The reason I bring this all up has to do with perception. I know that I am constantly aware of my freckles, but I also know that some are completely ignorant to their existence. I know the woman I see when I look in the mirror, the reflection I perceive, but I am not unaware that others may view a very different person. 

So here is my reflection. What I see in me. 

Six weeks ago, I started summer term with the best of intentions, big plans and all kinds of enthusiasm, and when I got dressed each morning, I made up not only my face, but also my personality in hopes of being the type of composed individual I had admired so in my past role models.  Six weeks ago, what I really felt was flawed and full of a false bravado I couldn’t quite muster the energy to match. Six weeks ago I measured my contributions to the world based on their apparent parallels to fine porcelain; that is smooth, flawless and bright – on a scale of one to ten, of course.

    

And somewhere in between then and now, someone I trusted told me with a unique blend of reluctance and resolve that I wasn’t perfect enough for them. And for a moment - just a moment - it broke my heart. 

But like Hemingway wrote, “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” I like that. It reminds me of the way that the Japanese mend cracks with gold; they believe the break provides the beauty. 

It also makes me think of the Chinese character for crisis and how it is made up of the elements for both danger and opportunity.

I chose an opportunity. 

An opportunity to feel closer to God than I have in years. 

An opportunity to empathize more sincerely, to serve more fervently and love more completely. 

An opportunity to strive towards completion rather than perfection.

An opportunity to love me because I could remember what it meant to love others more.

 

And now here we are at today, this very moment. And here I sit finally able to realize that it is more important to have an attitude of discovery than of perfection.

We all have our freckles, but when we come to acknowledge and embrace them, I have found that we can teach each other all kinds of things. I have learned to listen to more than what my mind wants to hear. I have learned that I am still learning. I have learned that I can do anything, but that I can't do everything. 

And I don’t have to.

I have come to recognize that perfection is completion and that no one is ever fully complete without the aid of the Savior - and even then it takes a lifetime. 

Knowing this makes it a little easier to accept that despite today's struggles, there is always tomorrow, and that no matter what hardships I face the sun will always rise in the morning, the light will always chase the dark. 

Life is inexpressibly worth living. 

Freckles and all.

Day 204

maybe in five or ten yours and mine will meet again
straighten this whole thing out
maybe then honesty need not be feared as a friend or an enemy
this is the distance
and this is my game face

Day 201

this confidence is called ver llegar in the ring. it means 'to watch them come.' it is the ability to plant your feet exactly so -- to hold your ground and see calmly, as in slow motion, the charge of the bull, knowing that you have what it takes to maneuver the bull safely by. this is dynamic stablility. standing still is one of the steps in dancing, as moments of silence are part of music. confidence lies in stillness. it is the confidence that comes from many passes and many fights -- you can control and defeat it because you have done it before.

Robert Fulghum, Maybe, Maybe Not

Day 197

Perchance he half prevailed
  To win her for the flight 

From the fire lit looking-glass
  And warm stove-window light.

But the flower leaned aside
  And thought of naught to say,

And morning found the breeze
  A hundred miles away.

Robert Frost 

Day 195

For 12 years Harry has had my heart.

I plan to let him keep it. 

 Always.