I was headed to watch the waves for a little bit, and my path took me through some neighborhoods. As I came 'round a corner, this large bright-colored SOMEthing caught me eye. A "Little Mermaid" poster was pinned to a lightpost, with two fluorescent umbrellas above it.
Below was a finger-painted depiction of clouds floating in the sky over a bed of flowers. Why is this on a lightpost?
Compelled by curiosity, I cross the street. The bottom of the fingerpainting was signed "The 1st grade classroom. We will miss you, India!" India? Then I come around to the other side of the post, and I see India. Her picture was in the center of another posterboard, with dates below it that say "2007-2011," followed by an invitation to her funeral. Wow.
Here, in the middle of suburban Solana Beach, was an incredibly tragic story! There was no information on how it happened, whether by sickness or accident, just a little monument of memorabilia. In front was a pint-sized chair and several vases of flowers. It really wasn't any of my business, I didn't know these people; but it stopped me in my tracks. I found myself scanning the posterboards, looking for some indication that the parents were taking it okay. Is that snooping or is it compassion? Either way, I found what I was looking for. The funeral invitation was really sweet: "we were given 4 years of bright eyes and joy..." They asked for people to wear colorful things to the funeral, especially mismatching socks, 'cause India liked them.
Amidst waves of emotion, I started to think about my own reaction. It brought to mind things from my reading lately that say certain times in life bring us to think about God and the infinite. I think this definitely qualifies as an example. Some would see this as "not fair!", seeking an all-powerful God in order to blame him. Because of my own upbringing, I thought about innocence and heaven. It reminded me of when my cousin passed away, and how the only thing that consoled our family was the idea of her being in Heaven. It seems that in the face of a tragedy like this, the only "humane" way to understand the event, the only way that allows for an acceptance and healing is the response of faith & hope.
The author I'm reading currently had been pulled away from God by complex "purely reasonable" philosophical systems. He was virtually an athiest until the day his mother died. He was very close to her, she was very close to God, and when confronted with the tragedy, he said "I wept, and I believed."
At that point, I stopped pondering, and realized that I was still a stranger at the end of some family's driveway, and that I really should move on. Feeling very awkward all of a sudden, I turned to go. But the dates of her life caught my eye one last time, and almost knocked me over.
Turns out India and I actually have something in common: she was born on June 18th.
I prayed a lot for India and her family during mass today.
An old monsignor stands at the front, giving a sermon: "You MUST be able to describe yourself with one word. That word is a very specific word. It's the most important word. If you can't say 'I am happy' you aren't living the way God wants you to. Are you happy? Can you say it instantly? Without hesitation? Are you truly, fully happy?"
I've actually heard the monsignor give this sermon a couple times. It's pretty challenging! Are you happy?
There's something about this place, these people, and this way of life that makes me inexplicably happy. Like, deep down... joyful... peaceful... happy. Like the monsignor says.
I wasn't this happy when I was pushing myself super-hard trying to be a producer. Especially during the last few months before graduation, I felt like I was just spinning my wheels. The psalms say it pretty well: "In vain is your earlier rising, in vain your going later to sleep..." (Psalm 127:2) On top of that, I felt like in in order to achieve what I wanted, I had to focus on myself. I know I wasn't as charitable as I used to be during my days as an RA living in the common room. I had become really self-absorbed.
Was I happy? No! I wanted to read more, spend more time with people, to be closer to God, to strive for holiness... I can't put my finger on what was holding me back from each one of those, except that I was "trying to be a producer." I told myself "I'm a producer" I told everyone around me "I'm a producer."
Here's another quote, are you ready?
"A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others. Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures, in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself." Fyodor Dostoyevski, The Brothers Karamazof
There's a longer story that explains why, if I was just going to be a "producer," I should have known there were some major pieces missing. There's more story that proves that the second half of the Brothers K quote is spot on. Long stories are for conversations, though, not blogs.
The one thought I really want to get across, is the idea that I'm happy on a level that I didn't know I could be. It's not a giddy sensation, or a particularly emotional thing, it's just a profound sense of resonance. When you play this chord on my heartstrings, it makes music, not just noise. It resonates with the people around me, with the needs they have. It makes sense with my life growing up, and with some of my really deep inclinations.
SO, Question 1: is this enough confirmation to know that I'm in the right place? Or at least the right direction? Are YOU happy? Question 2: Is it impossible to be in this place of happiness (bliss?), AND be actively doing good? One of the major differences between my pre-graduation lifestyle and the current one is that I'm much less focused on "filling the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run." The flip side of that is: I feel like I'm not going to accomplish as much as I could before.
I stepped forward hard onto my right foot, the gravel grinding loudly underneath it. The mountainside was steep, much different than the ship's deck I was used to. Oddly enough, the weight of the item dragging behind me helped keep my balance. It was a thick brass pole with a crossbeam at the top. The shape of a snake wrapped itself around the beam, its head and eyes pointed heavenward.
Being brass, it was unbelievably heavy, but with the crossbeam on my shoulder and the base dragging behind me, it provided a support of sorts. The mountain face was sheer granite, with no plants and no trees. I was just barely able to walk upright, with gravel and fissures for footholds. I'm sure the cross had kept me from falling backwards at least once during my long climb, I still didn't know why it was mine to carry, though.
I was at the peak of the mountain now. The cross laid discarded behind me, tucked into a cleft of rock. The cleft was the only thing preventing it from sliding back down the smooth granite ridge, or from tipping forward off the cliff that plunged straight down to the ocean below. My guess, it was a thousand-foot drop or more. I stood at the very edge, my toes on the last inches of earth before oblivion began.
Oblivion was the only way to describe it. The mountain stopped suddenly, almost as if it was cut in half. Below me, the waters of the ocean stopped suddenly as well, right at the point where the cliff reached the water. In either direction, the horizon was a waterfall that would give Niagra a run for its money. I couldn't see where the water fell to, but what I could see were stars.
Orion, the Hunter; Gemini, the Twins... they were familiar constellations, but they were below what I would have called sea level. They were also the wrong signs to be in the sky at this time of year.
Then, in the disembodied manner that only exists in dreams, I saw myself.
Standing inches from the edge of the world, the wind was blowing fiercely around me. It's an odd experience to look at yourself from the outside; you don't know what you're actually feeling. All you can do is see your own expression and guess. I was definitely not afraid. I stood with squared shoulders and feet firmly planted on the edge. How could I be so confident, so close to certain death?
I was able to look closely at my own face, and was shocked by the thick white cataracts over my eyes. I was blind.
DONG! The ship's bell rang the end of the day watch, and the beginning of my waking hours.Peregrine had worried about the edge of the world being close. Did this dream spring just from sympathy and proximity? Or was it something more like an omen? I had never quite believed in prophesy or omens, or for that matter, in the world having a definite edge. This dream would give me something to mull over on my shift tonight, though.
I walked out on deck, rubbing my eyes, and promptly tripped over a large object in my path. There on the deck, under my turned ankle, was the brass serpent; cross and all.
