EAT ME and other images from harvest

Cider and apples, grape juice and hay

Abundance charged with warm colors and crisp air.

Donuts scent flirts with the breeze that teases

Trees overflowing  with pears 

While leaves dancing, strolling down

to meet the pumpkins below.

As autumn winds blow into the future

Drink in the wonder of now: Harvest time.

~Pictures and Poetry By Two

I think that you'll really like this. . .

On Inner Resources and French

I’m in the process of learning an important lesson. It’s a lesson which is, for most people, maybe painfully obvious -- something which, in theory, I've understood for awhile - but which I haven't really recognized as being true until very recently. 

Here's the thing, my life is really wonderful right now. I have pretty much everything I want and need. But, despite apparent smooth sailing, I've actually been really struggling. I know I've always been incredibly blessed, but there have been some really challenging periods in my life--times when, externally, things seemed pretty horrible. During these periods, it made sense that I struggled a little bit. And because of those experiences, it's easy for me to see that my life shouldn't be tough right now. But it is. And I've realized that—almost no matter what—life is hard. Sometimes it’s hard because unanticipated events disrupt our plans or families, sometimes it’s hard because it’s monotonous, sometimes it’s hard because it’s exhausting, sometimes it's hard because it's confusing, sometimes it's hard because it's disappointing  and sometimes it’s hard because your French class makes you cry. Almost every day…..

A couple of weeks ago, Daw Anh San Suu Kyi came to my school. Thanks to the ever chivalrous Brother S., I was able to get in to hear her speak. The talk she gave was simpler, but also much more personally meaningful than I anticipated. For me, the most profound part came during the question and answer period. When asked about how she coped with the oppressive boredom that must have accompanied the years she spent under house arrest, she said this:

 “Inner resources are important to keep you going under all circumstances. These inner resources you acquire throughout life, not just during your years in school. I would say to try to strengthen yourself internally. Don’t depend too much on external factors. You must be able to live with yourself. What is important for you is not just to be able to suffer the hardships of bad fortune but also to know how to suffer the forces of good fortune.”

Over the last weeks, I fear I've allowed eternal forces (forces related to my good fortune) to hinder my ability to enjoy life—and to stifle the development of my internal resources. By giving external things undue significance, I’ve given them the power to make me extremely unhappy. It seems infantile, almost ridiculous when I write it—but between worrying about what's going to happen over the next five years and struggling in one of my classes, I've been a very unhappy person for the past 7 weeks. I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much—or so easily. I’ve never been so homesick, so nostalgic, so exhausted, so anxious, or so incoherent! I’ve never doubted myself and my abilities so much.

I realize that my current problems are acutely insignificant—in the grand scheme of my life and compared with the problems that so many others face. But these "problems" have forced some serious and painful introspection. They've forced me to realize how much I rely on validation from others, how I expect to succeed when I put in effort, how much I rely on support from my family, how unhappy and confused I become when I don't receive accolades for my efforts, how afraid I am of failure--and how much external forces can impact my personal happiness. 

I've also come to realize that, sometimes, more visibly apparent hardships make coping simpler. Perhaps this is because, when you go through an obvious trial, people around you recognize what you're going through. Maybe it's because these challenges often have significance, not just for you--but to others too. Or maybe it's because you feel validated in blaming sadness and unhappiness associated with these trials on things outside of your control....But maybe it's important to recognize the significance of the seemingly insignificant trials--not just for my own personal development, but in order to be a more empathetic person. To see that, regardless of how it may appear on the outside, everyone is struggling in some way or another, and that everyone's challenges are substantial and significant. 

These trials of good fortune are tricky and I think it might take me awhile to learn to cope with them graciously. But that's what this thing called life is for, right?

Also... Since when did my hair turn red?

Right before my sweet husband and I became an item, a friend and I were out when he asked me if I'd died my hair red. I laughed at him and said of course not. I few years ago at a conference, someone mentioned my red hair and again, I laughed it off. With Anne (with an E) being my childhood hero, I always wanted red hair. Well, I was going though pictures when I came upon some recent headshots and to my amazement, something crazy has happened. A very silly life long dream has come true without the help of photoshop or a bottle. My hair -- perhaps with chemical help from all of my medications -- has turned red. I don't know how long it will stay like this, but this is my little hair color miracle. And I wanted to share it with you.

From Black Tie to the Bronx

Manhattan may be the spot for hosts with the most which was where Mr. Two and I were for a performance last week. But if you want good bread, you'll be heading North to The Bronx. Right across the street from a cement plant with very friendly workers is Il Forno, which quite possibly produces the most wonderful bread in North America. The inside is soft, but not too soft and the crust is crisp but not hard. It tastes like the bread the old-country-grandma-you-never-had would have made if she existed. SO so so so SO GOOD. After we were done there, we went to The Cloisters, The Metropolitan Museum of Art's castle-like outpost for medieval art  in Inwood, right at the tip of Manhattan. We also got to see Three, Four, and Brother S, but I was out of batteries! 

Grand Lake

I'm just back from an impromptu long weekend in a special kind of heaven -- the sort of place where the company and surroundings are both so spectacular that you just get lost in a series of moments and forget to take a single picture. So I borrowed this one from Wikipedia :-)

We tromped through the first snow of the season, marveled at an enormous herd of elk, saw a poacher (!), made an illegal u-turn to get a better view of three gangly lady moose, gave up counting stars when we reached "a bazillion," walked into an antique shop and ended up sharing a bowl of homemade gumbo with the owner using silver spoons from 1897 that he borrowed from their box on the store shelf, got a speeding ticket, kept a fire burning for three days straight, baked pumpkin muffins, and shared it all with dear, dear friends who make marvelous things even more perfect.

Sober

Teetotalerism is a good way to excuse my magnificent antisociability.