The Honeymoon

Adam took this. PCC.

My favorite dancer.

O'ahu's rainforest

My love!

We barbequed with the most amazing pineapples and it was so fun!!!!!





Adam and I spent a lovely honeymoon in O'ahu. I loved being able to spend so much time with him. This boy brings so much happiness....

The Wedding

I am currently working on this. Be patient. Hold your horses. Not your boobies. Although breast cancer awareness says, "Feel your boobies."

Bridals with Willow!

HI friends. Willow Withy took some amazingly stellar beyond this galaxy photos for my bridals. I loved this day! We woke up on Saturday morning and headed down to the pier at San Clemente beach. There we ate at this dreamy delictable creperie, and I could not believe I was still in the US. With food that is beyond human appreciation, the day could only be galactic. We, despite my mom's moanings and groanings, took the pictures ON THE SAND and the pier at the beach. It was a dream come true for me, in two ways. From the day I met Willow, I knew if I could have my way I would have her photo my wedding. And I wanted the pictures done ON THE SAND. So here you are! Lilies and all!

My Infinite Playlist

Reviewing one's mission statement

Blue Salt


What is it that makes you feel alive?

This is Adam. Adam makes life worth waking up for. See the necklace that I am wearing? Adam gave that to me. Ironically we bought the chain for that pendant on the same day as my engagement ring was bought... but that is another story. The pendant is a heart made of amber, purchased during Adam's last week in Russia. His mom told him to wait and give the heart to someone who could take care of it, or something along those lines. And when Adam gave this to me, I felt a responsibility more precious than life. Each day I wear a symbol of Adam's love for me, and each day I love him back.

I was tagged.

4 places I visit over and over
-Adam's house
-Gardner's house
-Paris, in my mind
-Salt Creek Beach

4 people who call, text, or email me regularly
-Adam
-Afton
-Anne
-Mid

4 favorite foods
-honey balsamic chicken from macaroni grill
-dad's bbq
-crepes with nutella or strawberries with nutella
-red robin

4 places I would rather be
-Adam's arms
-in a lecture at BYU on anything art related
-a small village in Wales
-the MOA looking at the X

4 movies I watch over and over
-While You Were Sleeping
-What's Up Doc?
-Pride and Prejudice (all versions)
-The Gods Must Be Crazy

4 people I tag:
-Adam
-Anne
-Afton
-Jessica

From small town cheater to big town thief

As many of you know, Adam and I cheat. We cheat while playing croquet. We cheat while playing Uno. We cheat with our family members at miniature golf (despite the fact that cheating often brought our scores down).

We have recently joined a bigger league. Yesterday, while shopping for patterns and fabrics for the flower girls, we made a big step. As we were waiting for the lady to cut out two yards, I nonchalantly chatted Adam's ear off. We got in line at the cash register, and as the customer in front of us paid and left, we followed behind. We left the store without paying for the merchandise. When did we realize what we had done? As we pulled up to my house, Adam asked, "how much were those patterns?" And I realized that I had no clue. I told him that he must have paid... we couldn't have just left the store without paying!!!

Oh, but we did.

The Proposal

If anyone wants to know why I love Adam, let me share an example of an hour that we spent together. This hour followed a crazy day of horseback riding, swimming, skating lesson *sort of* and Adam... what else did we do?

Around 11pm, Adam and I left my house to take a walk. Did I know what was coming? I hoped that I knew. Adam began, and Adam, forgive me, I don't know the exact words!
"Boy was visiting his friends who said, 'hey we know a great girl... let's call her' and so they did but she didn't answer. They tried and tried but never did she answer. Finally they tried one more time and she picked up! Relief! She can come!"
And the story continued, about how lovely that first date was with boy and girl, and how cheating is fun. Eventually boy had to say how he felt about girl and tell her he loved her. At this point in our walk we were at the duck pond, because that is the place where Adam first told me that he loves me. When he first said that to me, I felt the sincerity in his words, but I could not return the words. I needed to know for sure. I waited a few more days.
We left the duck pond and Adam described how boy and girl grew and began to love each other, and that girl was able to say she loved boy. By now we arrived at the fountain, and it was as tranquil as the last time we were there. We sat on a bench nearby and Adam described the most recent events in the story between boy and girl, when he looked at his watch, which was just after 12, and said,
"...And that is when boy got down on his knee and asked (with my full name), Lily, will you marry me?"

I felt a surge of love and peace welling up within me. My emotions were a mix of warmth, like Adam's arms, and of love, like being hugged by Adam, and of peace, like the way I feel when I think about being married to this boy. We were completely present in the moment, focused on one thought, fused together. I looked down at the only man I have ever loved, and I said, "yes, of course." And after that was the best hug of my life! All the troubles, all the doubts washed away, and I was as tranquil as the still fountain that we were near. Adam slipped the ring on, and we became connected, we became boy and girl.

I see Adam differently now. He has become a force in my life, he is shaping me. And I truly love him. He is a delightful mix between strong, light-hearted, intense, loving, respectful, determined, and encouraging. And I expect that I will request this story often, and as the years go by, Adam will carve it into my heart.

Turning 26

This year I spent my birthday with my soon to be family - the Eggleston's. We had the most amazing cake - german chocolate with fudge as the filling. Talk about a girl's chocolate dream. Adam and I made apple pie together as well... from scratch! It was really good, and there is still a piece in my fridge if anyone wants to claim it.


As of late, there is no one that I would rather spend time with than Adam. I love him because of reasons that words don't even touch. It is within my soul, my guts, my essence to love him. We are drawn together for unknown reasons, and the joy has been discovering them. For example, Adam is one of the few people who can calm me when I am stressed. I believe that is because I trust him, and because he is pure. Man, I love that boy!

The Eggleston crew is delightful. I spent the day with Adam's dad and two of his sisters, Ammie and Allison, plus his cousins and of course, Trajan the dog I love. They are wonderful!!!

mylove

I am in love with a very handsome and amazing man.




When I first met Adam, he took my breath away. He was startlingly handsome and very sweet to me. We played croquet....




I trust him. I love him. Why? Because he has given me his heart, and it is hugging mine.

























And he helped me to save a kitty...

Coming Soon: The Proposal Story

:)

Lily do you love him?

I whispered, "Adam, speak to me in Russian and I will translate."

Without any precedent for such an occasion, he took a breath,
"ldkfjejriojdlkmcvcvdhdhdhdccq"

"There once were some monkeys."

"lkdjfe chiveadc quich slkjvid"

"Their bottoms were blue."

"dkje clkjicv qrsugch"

"The old men were angry with the monkeys."

"dfdk ci quichrcv lichdlciv ifjlejv"

"They took away all of their bananas and built a pyramid held together with ice cream."

"kjdfec bananies kljvle vlkjelci shccljed vheidss dskjflcijhfeoijch"

"The monkeys put on underwear to appease the men"

"cheivo cheivvq reidsv slkjeiv"

"The monkeys were given blue bras, but knowing their bodies were not formed that way, traded the bras for their bananas."

"flkdjecv rusquivo ldjeiv liceh"

"The men were happy."

THE END

The Fountain

The breeze brushed the sleeping water into ripples, sending an effusion of embraces around the granite rocks. Beneath me, the granite was smooth, cold. The reflection of the hunter in the sky was startling, he knew where I sat. If I looked close enough, he faded and the black granite fountain bottom appeared. All around me he came, and the rocks joined us. We were wrapped in the night, a thick shawl of moss. Resisting, I let him near, still held by the sleeping branches and the stone. His words steadily washed over the rocks, over the twigs, over the sharp places. I rested. There, within me, deep silent pools were uncovered. Bramble pulled back, and I was home, in his arms.

On love

Tiger. Tiger. I want a tiger. Can I have a tiger? Does anyone know which pet store has tigers?

I want to hold a tiger.

Don't worry, this isn't poetry

It began with a phone message.
But I was digging in the ground, there was a patch
of mud on my leg (dirt mixed with sweat)
when he called back and I said yes
to blindness.
I left the other and showered
brushing hair - he is here
who
your date
and I ran up two stairs
walked the next one
ran up three steps and walked the last four.
Wow.
He has shoulders.
They couldn't find a sitter
so she rode between us in her seat.
She ate my date's finger.
She held my date's hand.
Can I have some?
Croquet is much more fun if you
cheat.
Soccer feet.
Sincerity.

We played.
Laughed and they were laughing at us
too.
And then he tried to remember how to get back
as he drove me home.
And we played outside.
Cold grass and warm air.
I wanted it before it was time.
Tease.
Trust.
Finally.

Childhood

Lily has a mouse in her tummy.

On Perfection - from the theoretical to the actual

Earlier this week I was told that I lack in common sense, because of my perfectionism. This is true.

Looking at the meaning of the two words, I believe that I have sense, but it is not common to others around me. I do not feel things the way the rest of the world feels, and though this can be said of each of us, some of us vary in extremes. Recently a psychiatrist asked, "so you believe you have more anxiety than other people?" I struggled to answer, the very question provoked an anxious response within me. Do I have more anxiety than others? How am I supposed to know the answer to that question? So I just said yes, give me the medication sir. I suppose it is common to be uncommon, but there are many who unite in their uniqueness, and celebrate their common unique traits together, and these make up the body of the population. And then there are those of us whose sense of sense goes against the community. We are the ones who agree to do the impossible, truly believing we can achieve it. And while we can unite through the common trait of lacking in common sense, think not that the situation is remedied. Two of us only increase the lack of common sense; we jump into a freezing lake because it needs to be done and then walk four miles back to the car in cold wet clothing.

A consequence of existing as a being lacking in common sense is that I don't view perfection as Plato does; at moments perfections exist in our current state. Here is why Plato's ideals can walk on this blue planet:
-Perfection tastes like cracked wheat sourdough, broiled with olive oil, rosemary, tomato, monterey jack, and papaya. It feels like a deep backrub. It sounds like the sound of blades on ice at take-off and the subsequent landing. It smells like a white peach, just split open. It moves like my mom and my dad, walking with my grandpa down to the gate at POG. It ages like a good friend, and each wrinkle on her face is a story well-known.

I have met perfection in the eye. I have sacrficed sleep, friendship, work, school, health, family, and common sense to ride the wave, no cliche here, because wipeout is totally possible, and probable. Because of this I do things that common sense would otherwise have prevented.

But today I cried. I have to stop. I do not know what to do with my dreams, my pieces of perfection. I feel beaten by the flaws in my nature, unable to reach any type of peace. And so I sit here at 2:30am, just trying to work it all out, knowing that in the morning I will cry again. And I see that I am imperfect, and far too concerned with my own self to see the world around me, to connect with people who can lift me up. It only makes me angrier to think that I need people.

My greatest struggle is to give up my desire for perfection and realize that there are many who love me, even several who love me deeply, despite the fact the actual relationships are imperfect. I feel deeply, and tonight I feel great loss in resting alone. I yearn for a relationship in which I can give all, a foundation upon which a family can be built. And I fear that I will demand too much, because I am willing to give until my skin wears off, and I will kill the relationship out of a desire to make it perfect. And because it cannot be perfect, at times I don't even try to build, choosing by default to remain alone. And I am just really tired of this hurt.

Jackson Hole

I went with a group of friends to Jackson Hole this weekend. It was beautiful and charming, and I am in love with the lakes and rivers there. There were 8 of us, four of each sex, and that meant that the dynamics were complicated. We went on a white water rafting trip down the Snake River, hiked to Taggart Lake, enjoyed local restaurants, and drove home. I learned a lot and I want to share, but rather than a travelogue, I am going to give you three vignettes.


1. Our campsite was on a mini peninsula, flanked by the Snake River on one side and a stream on the other. My tent was within 7 feet of either one. It was incredibly overwhelming to my civilized senses and I lost track of all things cemented, regimented, and ....... While this beauty was dazzling, it equated extremely low temperatures during the nights. A sleeping bag rated at 55 degrees is as useful as wrapping up in paper towels. The first night I never warmed up in my covers. I lay stiffly, in and out of a doze, and needing to use the bathroom. Finally, I dragged myself out of my tent and tried to put my rainbo's on. I couldn't tell which way was up, and I fell over. It became easier to know which way was up sitting on the ground - I pushed up and rigidly got my bearings, and switched my flashlight. I found that my joints were frozen, and my knees wouldn't bend. I walked stiffly, sadly, as if I were suffering from MS. My eyesight was sketchy and I rattled along. The bathroom at the KOA was a haven. I ran my hands under hot water for twenty minutes (this is not an exaggeration folks) and finally the color came back. Then I did the same for my feet. I was worried that at some point someone would notice that I was gone and resigned myself to returning to my hell, as described by Dante. When I climbed back into the tent, my friend rolled over and whispered that she had been about to send out a search party. Turns out she was also freezing. When it came time to get out of bed and get ready for river rafting, we literally flew out of our tent and got dressed. Irony: we put on even less clothing than we had on before to go raft down a river fed by melted snow.


2. My first rafting trip was during a summer camp for girls 12-18 years old, a program for the youth in our church. Traditionally these camps have encouraged first aid knowledge and craft-making. One year our leaders wised up, knowing we were always jealous of the scouts' adventures in nature, and took us on a 3-day rafting trip down the American River in California. I was so scared to get on the raft the first day, and I made about five trips to the bathroom before I could leave. After the first hour on the river I realized that riding the rapids is stellar and fulfilling. This weekend I was ready to ride. I sat in the front and took the brunt of the waves, each time experiencing an incredible brain freeze. I gave all I had to paddle through the rapids and propel our raft as fast as possible through the rapids. That is what makes it so incredible, to have this dialogue between my own energy and the energy of the river.


3. The third vignette comes in the form of photos!



The crew!

pablo

here is an ode
that you may have
forgotten

to touch
divinity

through nearness of soul
animal and man
woman
and man
fabrics and feathers

to what is behind the
eskimo songs

fleeting snow
and dew
in her eyes
melts
into forms

ease the searing abyss
carved into skin
a balm
of being near
touching the face

of God

Ducks and Lovers

"Lily, the ducks are back!" Ashley called down the stairs.
"What?!"
"Yeah, sitting on the front lawn."
I raced up the stairs two at a time, and ran to the front door only to only open it very softly.
"Hi guys..." I whispered, "how are you? Are you hungry?" I turned to Ashley, "it is 10pm, is it too late to feed them?"
"Nahh.. just see."
"Okay!"

I brought the corn out and sat on my front steps. I threw a handful and immediately Daisy was up and devouring each kernel. "Good girl!" As I watched them eat I realized how relieved I was to see them on my lawn again.

Last night Brad was over and said, "I just want kids! I want to play with them and take them to the park, but then I remember," and his voice drops off, "I need to get married first..."
I laughed - I have so often felt the same way. Though the task of raising children is a difficult one, it seems nothing compared to the overwhelmingly staggering task of finding someone to marry. It isn't this difficult for everyone. It could be that I am too picky, but seriously, I have not found anyone good enough. My last boyfriend was completely shallow and too interested in fictitious women, but I naively didn't realize it until my heart was invested. I usually am interested in the bad boys, but the good ones are so boring! I know, generalization. But I want to give all of myself to someone. There is no other relationship in which one give all....

"Good night Daisy." I stood up, "Good night Donald."

Donald and Daisy

I pulled my pant legs up over my knees and stood on the front porch.
"Daisy!" I greeted my duck, "are you hungry this morning? Look, I brought you corn!" I reached into the bowl of thawed corn (it isn't quite time for fresh corn) and tossed her a handful. I was amazed at the agility of her beak in picking out the kernels among the blades of grass.
"Where's Donald this morning?" She didn't even look up. "Is he at the pond?" Again, my question was met with silence. My feet began to freeze on the wet cement. "Daisy, are you cold in this rain?" I stood there for a moment longer, and then went inside my warm house.

That afternoon I watched a somewhat geeky couple stop in front of our lawn and talk to the ducks. The guy even started to walk like a duck and quack. My ducks are smart. They didn't quack back, they retreated from the crazies. Another guy bent and picked some of our grass and tossed it to the ducks. Smart move sir. They really love that grass. Yup. I think to myself, "you don't know the first thing about taking care of ducks!"

Over the past few weeks, I have become attached to those two ducks. I love that Donald will eat hard boiled eggs, but Daisy will not. Daisy has enough audacity and belief in being fed that she will come within inches of my hand, but Donald will stay at least three feet away. Donald won't even eat until Daisy has, the gentleman that he is. They are pragmatic creatures, no fooling around, ever.
Their schedules run like this: wake up, wait for breakfast on the lawn, eat breakfast with starving child in ethiopia speed, drink water from the corel bowl, sleep, eat lunch, drink more water, poop in the water dish, drink more water, sleep, dinner, disappear for the night.

I wonder if my ducks would like Duke Ellington.

Trying to get out

Sometimes life hurts. It feels good to get it out through paint. I have found finger paints to be the most effective. (I always start with paper...)

"Some of us are wound a little tighter," she said. (My amazing therapist)

I am one of those.

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Sometimes I wonder why I am alive, why I am here, why I even get out of bed. Graciously, Heavenly Father lets me have incredible teaching experiences where I taste eternity - it is something like a souffle, very difficult and very divine. And then, despite all the sad things I feel like it is okay to go on.

Plus, I have gained so much more compassion for those who never marry. There is nothing like being alone. And yet, if I am true to myself, I know that I am never alone.

Mama

Mom
mama
mom dirro

you are da one
happy mudder's day
don't feel guilty today
you are the mom i love

I wrote you down in an earlier entry
you can read it if you want
or just know that you
are beautiful and
please realize
the ducks
are still
here.

look. I wrote you a duck shape.
Happy Mother's Day!
your first

si je vis je choisis la masochisme

Quelque fois
mon ame pleure

mon cou
fatigue par le vent

comme un pierre

se durcir

les yeux regardent
moi tout nu

il y a un soleil
il est hors de ma portee
comme des enfants, des amis

je touche le mur

c'est juste
les larmes qui me rassure
que la douceur existe toujours

Spring and fall

spring exhibition

I felt stressed.

Within the first ten seconds of my program I knew something was wrong with my right skate. The laces were loose.... and they eventually came undone. I shouted at Afton, "my skate is untied!" but she didn't hear me and so I just went through the motions. Imagine a lemur ice skating.

I asked to reskate my program, and I was allowed to, but instead of being more calm that I had the chance to redeem myself, I was frantic. It felt terrible to have to go through the experience twice, and I really couldn't stop shaking. So the second time I skated with a very stiff air. Imagine a man on stilts ice skating.

The climax unfolded as I ended my program and got into my ending pose. Tout de suite, I was on my bottom. My feet came out from underneath me, and all I could do was lay on the ice in surrender. Oh, how the crowd laughed. I was glad too, because then I could laugh. Which I did. When we were SAFELY at home, I watched the video of the fall over and over again, laughing with my mother.

I was glad for those who were there; it would be a bit of a lie to skate well. I fall down nearly each day, and so I gave them a true picture I suppose. (And on a sappier note, I felt very loved that people I adore came.)
That is how it went down.

My own mom

Jet Blue flew my mom up to my cute red brick house for the weekend. The pilot hovered above my house long enough for her to climb down a rope ladder, and we put our lovesac on the lawn, and she landed with a graceful poof. I grabbed her arm and her shirt and pulled her around, showing her the tulips, the old window panes, and I let her go only because I wouldn't let her carry her suitcase. I gave her a tour of the inside of my house as well, the wood flours, the torn surfer magazine pictures with our autographs, the dungeon, and the white lights in my room. She was my own mom, in my house, and it felt really good to have her there.

When she is happy, or proud, or even silly and sarcastic, her voice goes soft and high. Sometimes I hear my grandma come out of her voice, and I love it. When she is telling a story, her voice carries emotions, and I have a greater understanding of them as a result. My mom and I share the same hands. During my mission, I rarely missed my family, like three times in the year and a half, and this was partly because I felt my mom's presence always in my hands. When she is tired she is an inch shorter. When she is sad, she doesn't seem to fit into any form at all.

This weekend, it was lovely to see my mom again. We went to the duck pond, a quirky attraction (young mothers, lip-smacking couples, aspiring photographers, and little boys who love to chase ducks). My mom and I sat and admired a mother duck, sitting on her 9 babies, completely altered in form to cover them up. The father rested nearby, and kept an eye on his family. My mom had her sketchbook and mused aloud over their various markings and tracings, trying to capture the life of a duck family. "He has a flat beak doesn't he... and look, there is a line that runs through their eyes... and black feet!" She was as interested as the one-year old little girl, gawking at the birds, but with a life's experience enhancing her ruminations.

As my mom sat and studied the birds, I desperately wanted to hold one. I wanted to feel the soft slick feathers, and I wanted to feel the warmth of the bird. I wanted to examine not through eyesight alone, but through touch and smell, and also through a sense of trust between the bird and myself. Growing up, I was allowed to touch. My mom keeps a beautiful garden, and when she used to trim the giant hedge that acted as a fence, I took all the branches and built a fort on the driveway. I went as far as to rub the green of the plant onto my face, marking myself as a child of the bush. She also let me run my fingers through dry macaroni, and have macaroni tea parties with my tea set. In the summer, when days were long, my sisters and I collected all the empty containers and scratch paper we could find, and built paper cities. An upside down paper cup could be a small home, and an empty cracker box turned into an apartment building. My mom always made it possibly for me to have a constant supply of watercolors, to paint the world as I saw it. She allowed for me to interact with the world on a very tangible level.

My mom is as tangible to me as the macaroni I played with. She is a very real force in my life, and I have been greatly shaped by her. I am thankful for her today, not just today, but especially today.

Ode to mentaltesserae - and mothers

FYI: I am currently working on a different blog entry to celebrate my mother, and that is why the essence of my incredible mother is missing in this post....
This post is born in the spirit of the one who inspired me to create a blog in the first place.

Today I taught Relief Society and I was able to choose any talk from this April's General Conference. I carry the responsibility of seeking out the needs of those I teach, and presenting the material to nurture those needs. I teach single female college students, and so I appropriately chose Elder Ballard's talk aimed at young mothers. Perfect. Really though, it was perfect. In studying the talk, I realized that the counsel he gave to young mothers applied equally well to single women of the same age. And so that is how I pitched the lesson. I felt completely guided in this lesson because these four points can be learned by single individuals, and enhance the quality of their lives. When it comes time to have a family, if that is one's desire, the tools will be available to create a more healthy and peaceful environment in which to raise children. I believe that God often gives us the opportunity to learn tools now that will prepare us for our futures.

He gives young mothers four pieces of counsel:

• First, recognize that the joy of motherhood comes in moments. There will be hard times and frustrating times. But amid the challenges, there are shining moments of joy and satisfaction.


• Second, don’t overschedule yourselves or your children.


• Third, even as you try to cut out the extra commitments, sisters, find some time for yourself to cultivate your gifts and interests.


• Fourth, pray, study, and teach the gospel.

Can you see how perfectly these words also apply to female college students? Well, anyway, I do. And here is the fun part - here is the part when I can say thank you to Julie for inspiration. She incorporates parenting with art on her blog.... Not only that, I recently attended her classes where she discusses the following two pieces. These two images represent the essence of Elder Ballard's first piece of counsel. On the left is a very tired and discouraged mother, drawn by Kathe Kollwitz. Down below is a Cassatt.

When I was first asked to be a teacher, I was told to avoid bringing in outside material, and to stick to the lesson. But I was also asked to use my talents. This is what gives me anxiety: I have to reconcile two vague instructions capable of contradicting each other. Well, today I used my talents. I love art, I get it, and so I used it to communicate what words cannot. I asked my girls to look at the two works with the aim of understanding what real life as a mother is all about. I related the story of Kollwitz, losing her son Peter on his second day in the Great War. She was hit by depression, and created haunting images of mothers and children. Then I showed the Cassatt, which represents a tender moment where mother and child connect and transcend the hardships of life on earth. I used these two works to inspire class discussion, about how real life is full of hard times, and when moments of joy come, all sorrow is forgotten. I believe that if unmarried women can grasp this concept before they are mothers, they will fare better through the rough years of raising children.

For Elder Ballard' second point, I chose another painting by Cassatt, because it shows a young girl - tired after being overscheduled and never having time to play in play clothes. She has to have etiquette classes, piano lessons, harp lessons, voice lessons, and more. (Thank you Katie, another amazing mother, this is more or less her interpretation of the work.)

At the risk of creating a post that no one ever gets to the bottom of, that is it folks. I had a ball teaching today, I even feel a little more like being a mother some day, believe it baby. And I love love love Elder Ballard's talk. Pick up your toys children.

USFS

Willow explained that skating connects mind, body, and spirit.

I love skating. I am learning to connect with myself, and with the world. Skating has become a language in which I can express how I feel about being alive.

This morning I passed my USFS test. For the last few months Afton has been drilling me and I have discovered what the body is capable of. She is such an excellent coach, and on days like today, I feel that she shines as much as her students do. Weekly she mentally trudges alongside me, trying to break down my stubborn walls. I often finish my programs without an end pose, I forget to smile, and I really, really, really dislike holding my arms out with pretty fingers. If I were six years old, she would simply demand it. But we have a really complicated relationship, where I refuse to do any of the pretty stuff until the actual performance. Ask her how much anxiety I cause within her. She threatens to stick her fingers up my nose if I don't do the pretty stuff. And when it comes time to skate for real, and a judge is holding my fate in her hands, I simply remember to be a pretty princess. I smile, my hands become porcelain, and the judge misses little errors because she is blinded by my confidence. And Afton is relieved.

During the time that I am on the ice for a test, competition, or performance, my mind and spirit are completely in harmony with my body. I feel an incredible fusion of all parts of myself and I am able to function under stress. It is the most beautiful rush, to know intrinsically that I am both spirit and body in one form, and that I can use resources from each. I feel alive and know that I always have been, and I always will be. The speed, the smoothness, the wind created by my own force... I play in a world that is nearly immaterial. Cement ceases to have ever existed, time melts, the ice is no longer cold, and I feel that I am a part of eternity. I ask people to watch so they can be there with me.

The reality of an imperfect world hit me a few hours after my test, when I found myself telling my little skating students to hold their arms up. I may have said it twelve times, to no avail. So funny.

Canoe

At age 13, that is when I first remember it.

It is Jessica who told me - she found out at work today. She just works at the office where people know things. And the lady called, the 94 year old one, and told her. Every year this lady goes to France, perhaps the French hide from her, and how does she get there? She sets out in her canoe and the coast guard picks her up and she gets there.

I need a canoe.

The dream consists of a faraway place, in either England or France, and I am in an apartment by myself with almost no money and it is spring and I am walking the streets to buy bread and sit at cafe tables. The streets are falling apart, there is loose gravel and weeds coming up in the cracks. I notice the smell in the air, and the faces around me. I will always writing, and looking at things - the shiny metals or the art in the museum or the splash of the Seine against the bank, really, and then writing. I realize the naivete... it isn't always spring, sometimes it is painful to be faraway, and it could be that I actually have no money. However, I only realized that part of the dream when Anca Sprenger threatened to help me make the dream a reality. I froze up and freaked out.

Now I just don't know.... But I could get started. I saw canoes in Costco yesterday....

Why live

There are many reasons.

Some live for food. Some live to laugh. Some live to make grandiose claims about life involving prestigious categorical databases. Some live to deconstruct themselves and this postmodern world. I live to love. I am not talking about kissing boys, no, definitely not. When it is 11pm at night and I am still on campus and Jessica sends me a text, "Are you alive?" And I can say back, "No. I not." I know it is only a matter of seconds, and yes, here it is, "i can save you." That is why I live. To love those who love me. Five minutes later, another text, from Afton this time, "eating nutella." To those who say that love cannot come across the communication lines of texting, hear this: it can. What these texts really mean: "Lily, I love you! Come home! We need to play! Are you okay, for real? I love the nutella you gave me. I love you!"
Of course, love is easier communicated in person. Tonight I had a conversation with Julie that expanded the range of our friendship. We discussed suffering and writing as separate subjects, though they go together well. I love her. And then I stopped by Katie's. I just wanted to be there with her, laughing and laughing in all the mess of grading. I love her. And when I finally did come home, there was Whitney with fresh chocolate chip cookies, "You can have one," she says in syllabic grunts with her toothbrush in her mouth. I love her. And Jessica and I did play. I love her.
There are no rules. I can speak in different verb tenses, construct awkward sentences to manipulate meaning and describe events in a baby voice and everything is sweet.
Except.
Not always.
It actually isn't that easy.
Sometimes, all of a sudden, when I am with someone I love, I am overcome by this intense salty wave that almost makes me cry the salt out, encompassing all of my soul with such a force that I need to shout, "I love you!" And just hug that person. But there are boundaries. Once, a middle-aged lady walked by my car and as I watched her I caught a glimpse of who she really is. I almost cried. I felt suffering and sadness and weariness held together by a rhythmic hope for something better. And I was filled with a feeling bigger than myself. Just love. When I taught preschool I had a little boy who cried when he woke up from his naps and needed me to hold him so that he could let his snot run down my shoulder. I loved him. He was precious. Or my therapist, I don't know what will happen if I just scream at the top of my lungs and let her see how much I really love her. And then there are those who never say "I love you" in return. What then? I can only assume there is love left unexpressed, because otherwise why go on?

If I were to really let people see how much I loved, it would involve some type of conglomerative dance. No sitting still, no standing still, but a very earthy transcendant physical ethereal string of movements. I need to use everything I have to express how much I love a person's very soul. This type of behaviour is seen as irreverent and inappropriate sometimes, ask my Bishop. I know there are those who feel that I should refrain from extreme displays of emotion but sometimes I see inside a soul and there is such beauty there that all I can do is love. My family members accept this, I have been this way always. I first learned to love them.

My life was almost lost once, and left hollow by suffering. That is one of the greatest gifts I have been given. Now I can experience life, love, vivacity, and joy to a like degree.