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refreshingsolitude
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Name: Hannah
Birthday: 12/19/1983
Interests: telling stories.friends. conversations. travel. long walks. Panama. adventures. forgiveness.good books. time alone. [justice, mercy & humility] the ocean. expatriates. sunsets. deserts. full moons.children. the beach.tin roofs. laughter. whoever I happen to be talking to...
Expertise: day dreaming
Occupation: student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
2/9/2005
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| In the past few days I have had the privilege of sitting down and talking to friends who I have seen and had a good conversation with at least once a year for the past six or seven years. It is incredible that we have stayed in contact this long and that our conversation is so open and refreshing in spite of the long distances and the long time.
The truth is that some people are just kindred spirits. Oddly, as well, it seems that our lives have followed similar courses of events, patterns of experience, and spiritual journeys. Sitting down and talking is like breathing fresh-air and being completely relaxed in a way that you usually only feel with people that you've cultivated a strong relationship with.
One thing that I was reminded of this week... is that it is ok and good to just relax sometimes. It is good to just rest. Sometimes, we should work hard and take on a lot of burdens for and with other people but, at other times, it is ok to rest an recover strength enjoying relationships that lead us to rest and places that refresh our spirits. A season of rest will hopefully follow a season of intense relationships and hard work... and hopefully, the seasons of work, productivity, etc. will find ways to be interspersed with rest and reflection without having to cease completely. Originally posted here. | | |
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Today I went to the Holocaust Memorial Museum. Now, that
is an encounter with human history that is hard to comprehend. It is
hard to understand how such a large number of people were able to
suspend their inner sense of dignity and respect for other human
beings. Was it desperation, fear or just simple depravity?
As I walked through the Museum I remembered and thought about the book "Night" by Elie Wiesel that
read a little while back. The sense of despair that he experienced when
he encountered the death and abuse of all of his family and people.
Recently, I heard an interview
with Elie Wiesel in the which he expressed his approach to God in the
midst of the unspeakable and unexplainable atrocities experienced and
committed by humanity.
The awful events that occurred to Wiesel haunt him. In one of his speeches he said,
"No one may speak for the dead, no one may interpret their mutilated
dreams and visions. And yet, I sense their presence. I always do - and
at this moment more than ever." He urges us and reminds us that "Our
lives no longer belong to us alone; they belong to all those who need
us desperately." How should we respond to the atrocities which continue
all over the world? What does it mean that our lives "no longer belong
to us alone"?
Originally posted here.
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| One more encounter with someone is the best way to explain what has
provoked this sudden burst of writing. Again, this person is not a
stranger, far from it. Even so, we have not heard from each other in a
long time.
This encounter involved the familiar conversation whenever the two of us talk. I get asked, "What have you written recently?"
"I haven't been writing very much recently. How about you?"
"I've been writing some, it's hard sometimes. Why haven't you been writing?"
"Oh, I don't know, I'm in the midst of one of those --I don't think I have what it takes-- phases."
"What?
How many times do I have to tell you that you have what it takes, you
know that this writing thing is a huge process of trial and error
anyway, don't you? You shouldn't say things like that."
I feel
the rebuke and decide to write something. It feels good even if the
product is mediocre. I need those encounters and I need the feedback.
Originally posted here.
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| Today my encounters revolved not
around strangers but with familiar faces in a strange place. My aunt,
uncle, and three cousins came through here on their family vacation. I
have only been here for a couple weeks so, in some ways, living here is
new and strange to me still. We visited some places that were new to me
and saw some things that have become slightly familiar. Being with
people who have known you your whole life in a new place gives you a
renewed sense of perspective on your life. I was reminded that I have
people who love and accept me even if I never find a job or if I don't
get my dream job.
About my dream job... the one encounter with a
stranger I had today was on the phone as I interviewed for my dream
job. She was pleasant, interesting, and asked good and unexpected
questions. I thought it was a fascinating conversation and I am so
excited about the opportunity. This is one stranger that I would die to
have become a friend. After our conversation, I walked into the living
room where my cousins were waiting for me. I had the biggest grin on my
face and they loved me for being me. I didn't have to convince them
that I was right for the job. It was not the usual people in the usual
place but, the right people at the right time to help me celebrate
excitement and remember that I am loved for more than my ability to
perform.
*It's always interesting to label your posts with the title of the song you're listening to at that moment. | | |
| A city is filled with strangers. All
types of strangers. Some you might want to meet and many others you may
never want to encounter. Most of them seem to be looking blankly into
the distance with a burden of worry or boredom creating distance
between them and the rest of the world. Camus introduces us to the most
alienated of strangers. "The Stranger" is not familiar with the
emotions of belonging or love that might tie him to others or give him
reason for his future. Empty. The stranger has no sense of meaning in
life and all his relationships are so shallow that he takes no
inspiration from them. There is no greater purpose for his life.
When
we continue on in this way we have no reason to live and whatever it is
that makes us want to is incomprehensible. When the strangers on the
bus or in the metro encounter one another there is a renewed hope that
we may find meaning after all. These encounters are mere shadows of
what true relationship involves but at least they can remind us that we
are human and that there is something beautiful under the masks that we
so often wear. Opportunities abound to enter into relationship and yet
they are missed because we fear being rejected if people see our true
face, our weakness, our fear, or our failure. Because of this we remain
strangers to one another, we stare with empty gazes into the future
waiting for someone to instill some meaning into our existence.
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