My Brother

As we indulged in leftover Halloween candy today after lunch, my coworkers and I reminisced about our childhood experiences surrounding the holiday, touching on our various strategies to maximize candy collection, and equally important, candy retention. Yeah, parents would take it away, but most everyone at the table mentioned that their siblings were the biggest culprits when it went missing.

That wasn’t the case for me though, because my brother was the best. I don’t remember any candy theft; on the contrary, he showered me with treats and looked out for me.

When he fundraised for school by selling candy, he’d save and buy me my favorites.

When he frequented Comic Grapevine, the local comic book and gaming store, he’d bring me along so that I could buy candy, play or watch them play the games, peruse the comic books, and play with the store cats. I can’t imagine how annoying or embarrassing it’d be to have your kid sister tag along for stuff like that, but he brought me anyway. It’s where I discovered my love for Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat — I was never any good, but I was happy to watch. It’s where I spent my hard-earned money on new pogs — the sparkly slammers were my faves, of course. It’s where I learned how to play Magic: The Gathering, amassing my own collection of cards and subsequently blowing the minds of all the boys in my class — I had to bring my decks to school and play before they believed me.

And when I started dating, going to dances and parties, and generally doing all the things my parents forbade me from doing, he’d cover for me, pick me up late at night, and always make sure I was safe.

Not everyone is lucky enough to have a sibling like mine.

 

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(Apologies for the terrible photo quality!)

You’d Be a Fool to Miss It

This quote showed up on my Facebook feed the other day (h/t Anne), so I don’t know the context. It’s so lovely that I just had to share.
Go outside. Don’t tell anyone and don’t bring your phone. Start walking and keep walking until you no longer know the road like the palm of your hand, because we walk the same roads day in and day out, to the bus and back home and we cease to see. We walk in our sleep and teach our muscles to work without thinking and I dare you to walk where you have not yet walked and I dare you to notice. Don’t try to get anything out of it, because you won’t. Don’t try to make use of it, because you can’t. And that’s the point. Just walk, see, sit down if you like. And be. Just be, whatever you are with whatever you have, and realise that that is enough to be happy. There’s a whole world out there, right outside your window. You’d be a fool to miss it.
– Charlotte Eriksson

Nostalgia

I came across an email I received as a freshman in college (more than a decade ago!), that touches me deeply to this day. I’ve been fortunate to have such wonderful people in my life, and I hope everyone knows that even if we aren’t in touch anymore, they remain a part of me.

Here’s to living honestly, vulnerably, fully.

 

Ok, so my roommate just read this long nostalgic article about how when we leave here we go back to our homes and we won’t ever have this dorm life again. Anyway, it is just making me think. I know you are busy with all of your homework, and I know that I should give you space, but you know, I don’t want to go home this summer regretting the time I had with you down the hall. I can’t think of wasting months of having you so close, being able to be with you so effortlessly. It’s not going to be like this again. I don’t mean to come off too emotionally (I feel like I can say what I am really thinking around you, otherwise I would never have sent this). So I guess tell me what you think, but I don’t think I’m going to try to “give you space.” I’m just going to hang out with you like you’re my friend. Screw the rest of the emotions, I just want to be able to hang out with you and not feel any sort of tension because of other feelings.

 

Wonder

Last week I checked out the Renwick Gallery’s opening exhibit, WONDER. I went solo, and because it was a weekday, there were gloriously few visitors. I’ve included few photos and (Snapchat) videos that don’t do it justice.

The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed.

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Against the Odds

My parents aren’t very romantic, but I can tell my dad is getting more sentimental as the years pass. He recently reminisced about the beginning of his relationship with my mom.

Your mom was a country gal, and I was from the big city. She’s 6 years older, highly unconventional for our generation and culture. Your mom’s entire family was against our marriage and impending move to the U.S., predicting that our relationship would die within the year, leaving her stranded with nothing and alone in the states. We’ve been married nearly 40 years.

Yoga on the Labyrinth

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I’ve spent my last two Tuesday evenings at Grace Cathedral, participating in their (mostly) weekly Yoga on the Labyrinth.

It had been on my to-do list for years, and thanks to a yoga-craving, I made a date with a friend to finally experience it. I’m so glad I did.

It’s extraordinary, for countless reasons. The opening mediations. The ethereal, live instrumentals. How gratifyingly small you feel when you get lost gazing up at the cathedral’s ceiling as you lean into a pose. The otherworldly manner in which every sound and voice echoes. That you’re doing yoga, in the middle of this beautiful, chaotic city, with hundreds of strangers. Your inability to hear your own voice in the harmonious, reverberating, and perfectly in sync chorus of closing oms.

It’s surreal and stirring. I walk out feeling tranquil, happy, recentered — I can’t recommend it enough.

You can’t calm the storm… so stop trying. What you can do is calm yourself. The storm will pass.