Are we human? Or are we dancers?

When I was in high school, I dated a boy who never spoke with his mother's side of his family. He told me about the fight between his parents and his grandparents that caused the drift, and I thought it was so weird that a family would stop speaking with each other for such a small reason. I was prideful and assumed that I must have had a better appreciation for family and thought that maybe it had to do with the way I was raised.

I learned a lesson today I wasn't expecting to learn about my family.

My older brother hasn't been talking to the rest of my family for over a year now, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone except himself. All I can say is they must be dumb reasons because I know for a fact that we have more to be angry about with him than he does with us. At any rate, it's been really hard on my family not to have him in our lives--expecially because we fell in love with his 3 step-children and haven't been able to see them.

Mostly I've been angry about the whole situation...and I wasn't quite sure why I was so angry. At first I thought it was because of what he did to my parents leading up to the situation. Then I thought it was because he wasn't thinking about what taking those kids out of our lives would do to them, let alone us. (The kids really haven't had any stable family members, and kids need a family!) Then I thought it was because I really missed his kids and could care less about my brother. I must have been through a few dozen reasons for being angry that were all applicable and made sense...but none of those reasons really hit the core of the anger.

My brother called my mom today for mother's day. The first time he's spoken to her in a year. And I was angry with her for talking to him. She stayed on the phone for over an hour, and when she came out to say bye to me, she said she had to talk to him, she couldn't push him away if he was going to make an effort. I told her that she better make him try harder than just a phone call...and the conversation continued from there until I realized I was crying and my mother was giving me a hug, crying along with me.

My grandpa gave us a hug and said, "You know what? The only person getting hurt by your anger is you." And I realized-- I was angry because I am hurt. I am hurt that my brother, whom I have a million memories with, could care so little about being in my life (especially this time in my life, when so much is happening). I realized that I am angry because I gave him the power to hurt me. And it's all my fault.

The lesson I learned in addition to this realization is that I have SOOOOOO many wonderful examples of my savior in my life. My mother is so ready to forgive her son, who has caused so much hurt, because she understands. My grandfather, my father, my sister, my brother are so ready to love him again and let him back into their lives...because they understand. I am truly humbled by how much I have to change to be like them--to love so deeply when the love isn't returned, without letting selfish things like anger and hurt feelings get in the way.

This is why we forgive. Anything less than complete forgiveness is selfishness.

sleep spindles

I have only now just discovered my dear friend Genevieve's post. In sleep, the wanderings of the human mind become concrete, though fleeting, travels--journeys of self-discovery, imagination, creation, and healing. With age comes a greater need for such journeys, and with age comes a fear of them. We run from one of the things we need most...we run until we drop from exhaustion, until we can no longer hide from our mortality.

Why should we fear healing? Why should we fear imagination or creation? Because in them, we discover ourselves. We discover our strengths and our weaknesses. A few years past, knowing weakness was my greatest fear, but with age I have determined that the knowledge of strength presents a greater fear. This knowledge brings responsibility, this knowledge multiplies every petty mistake; every petty mistake then becomes a great offense, every great offense becomes a sin, every sin becomes a threat to life. Mortality is the current representation of our life, and if dreaming/sleeping presents a retribution for the absence of living according to the knowledge we possess, the obvious human reaction would be to run.

the red warning

Broken glass slices a red warning

Old class awards act as barriers

Cards, Official Letters, receipts

Meaningless sheets of paper

I can never seem to throw anything away

I satiate my pulsing finger

With healing saliva and an old napkin

I watch the coagulation and wonder

Of the masterpiece of the human body

Why can’t souls heal like cuts?

The unhealed wound of my soul throbs a warning

Two year old memories act as barriers

Hurt, Pain, Deceit

Overused emotions

I can never seem to let these feelings go

I evaluate the situation

With tested reason and weathered logic

I explore the conclusion and marvel

Of the determination of the literary heart

Why can’t I stop my hand from discovering my soul’s hell?

A change among changes

It's strange to think that this moment is, in itself, a climax. I'll never be the same person after this day. After this day, everything changes.

I've been thinking a lot lately about people...importance of relationships vs. graduating college...sleep deprivation and chronic fatigue syndrome. All of it feels, well...worth it. I feel as though I am tipping over a cliff in my life's story.

What if?

What if I decide to keep moving down this path? Will it be constructive or destructive in a total sense? Will I find love? Will I accomplish my dreams? Will my dreams change form? Will I like who I become?

I didn't realize when I was thrust down this path (fate's comedic relief) that I would actually have this much fun. I didn't realize that every day I would get closer to this wonderful person who I call my roommate. I didn't realize that I would love people more fully and understand scary things more consistently. I didn't expect to be dumbfounded by the wonderful examples of strength, courage and love that I have witnessed. I didn't expect life to be so...[fill in the blank].

After this day, everything changes. No matter what happens, I'll live it. I'll be astounded at the humbling experiences I'm directed into...and it will be worth it. Every drop of anxiety will be worth it.

Deprivation.

Devoid of sleep, our darling author and friend, Isoke, has fallen asleep on the table top, next to me. I, Genevieve Stanfield, have taken it upon myself to narrate said experience, try out the blog's format, and do a little final proofing.

Poor Is, she was out until 6:30 am, this past night, and is now suffering the consequences thereof. I suppose her age has finally caught up with her. Perhaps, in the restrictions of this age, I am speaking of her body's lack of energy? Or, maybe, I refer to her need of companionship, a drive so strong, so undeniable that she has chosen to deny herself no more. Yes, I do believe this is what I have been given to document and perceive. A girl who's age has caught up with her.

- Genevieve.