Arise and shine!

I stole this picture from a friend, so don't credit me for noticing this sweet little word of encouragement. I am sitting here at my computer -- see pic below for the exact setting-- and despite the fact that the sky is gray and darkening by the minute, today has been much, much better. Some days are like that. Surprise. Out of the blue. A day that is just plain nice.

I poured myself a tall glass of wine because you can do that when you are 30, an official grown up, and there is no one around to watch just how full you fill the glass. I rarely do this, but sitting quietly with a glass of wine seemed the appropriate way to celebrate the end of a long day of meetings. Tuesdays are generally packed with meeting after meeting, which can be a bit of a drag, but since I didn't leave any of them in tears, it seems that there was marked improvement since last week! :-)

It's Holy Week, so that means church services galore involving candles, sad scriptures and redemptive scriptures. Life, death, and resurrection all celebrated in one week.

Arise: a mandate, a promise, a word scribbled on the Brooklyn Bridge, and a reminder that life goes on. Truly.

Arise and shine. Tis the theme of the week dear friends.

Hmph

One long silver hair. Yep. I found one. I was drawing a bath tonight and while I was waiting for the tub to fill I saw something shiny out of the corner of my eye. I leaned into the mirror and to my deep disappointment, I spotted the tiny strand of stress and age. I found one a couple of weeks ago, but figured it was a fluke. But this is silver strand number 2. I ate a huge bowl of ice-cream tonight and crawled into bed early.

That is the theme of my life lately: too much ice-cream and a long strand of silver hair. Hmph.

Can I just say that I HATE being single at 30?!!? This may seem completely unrelated to the sentences above, but when you are having a bad day, these things are intrinsically connected. The novelty of being single has worn off. The whole dating-hoping-breaking up- rejection- starting over thing is getting OLD and I am sad. Please don't pity me dear readers for pity will only add to what feels like a very pathetic life. But maybe this will inspire me to get out. Cease adding to the ever-expanding waist-line and enjoy the city, meet some new people, and spend my time creatively. Yes. This seems good. My facebook page seems to think so anyway. Most of the adds on my wall are for "Mature Singles Looking for Love." OMG. When did I become a mature single? And why does this feel more like mockery than inspiration?

My blog postings are mega depressing lately. But I suppose there are plenty of chipper people in the world to balance them out. I preach Good Friday and I received some good advice today. A wise pastor suggested, "Perhaps prepare your sermon and preach it as you would if you felt healthier and wiser." I like this. And it seems very doable. Watch out congregation. I plan to preach the way I would if I was feeling healthy and wiser....

....and in the midst of all of this, I know God is present. Because that is simply God's way. On a bus, in the waiting room, in dark hours of loneliness, and in a jammed subway at rush hour. Not necessarily in the fire or in the earthquake or in the thundering voice of an emboldened minister. But in the whisper of the wind, the hands and smile of a stranger. The Spirit moves where it will.

In honor of our friends in Italy who are sad and struggling tonight, I bid you goodnight in proper Italian fashion, "Ciao!"

Some-Things-Pretty

That was the goal. Go in search of pretty things.

Easy cheesy people. 62 degrees in Central Park and finally, finally, finally the blossoms have come. The grass is lush green and the fingertips of all the trees are painted red and white and pink and green. Aaaah, spring.





Some more of my favorite things from today: it started with little darlings dancing up the isle waving their palm fronds on this Palm Sunday, then a Bach concert after church, and finally a stroll in the park to find rolled up jeans and bare feet, bodies basking in the sun on every spare bolder or patch of grass, lots of sweet kisses and hand holding (moms and dads with little ones and lovers galore), a boy squawking hilariously like a bird to the delight of his little sister, blue sky, birds bathing, velvet green moss, and ice cream cones.

And then as I arrived home: these fantastic hands painted on the grate outside my door. Who are these mad street artists?! I love them! Today was a good day. Hope yours was too.

LIFE IN THE BIG APPLE

I called the police tonight. One of those "non-emergency" calls. I was strolling home rather late after a surprise birthday party for a friend in Queens when I glanced up at the usually-abandoned Permanent Mission of the Ivory Coast. The front door was cracked open and the french doors off the second floor balcony were swaying gently in the breeze. The window coverings were still closed and the place was dark as usual, but the whole thing looked a little suspicious to me.

The dispatcher I chatted with had a thick Jersey accent and seemed annoyed that I called, but I felt like it was my duty as a good citizen. But calling the police in a situation like this is kind of like going to the doctor with a sore throat. You're praying you have strep just so you don't feel like an idiot when the doc tells you that you're just fine and should drink plenty of liquids. Some spy better be arrested tonight or I will feel like an idiot.

By the way, why is NO ONE ever at the Permanent Mission of the Ivory Coast? This doesn't seem very permanent to me.

My friends Liza and Debbie left today after visiting for the week. This fabulous mother/daughter pair go back in my history just about as far as most friends can. Liza and I grew up together and spent most snow days together in high school. We went to Mexico together to help build a house just across the border in Oaxaca and I recall curling up under a tiny blanket with her after our other friend Elizabeth threw up all over our bedding (poor thing was sicker than a dog).


Thick and thin people. We've got to hold onto friends like this.





This morning Liza and I got up early to brave the pouring down rain to take a walk in the park. It was worth it. Why you ask?! The daffodils. The brown skeletons of plum and cherry trees are finally blossoming and the forsythia could make me cry if I wasn't trying so hard to keep it together! Delicious. I love spring.

The gals did all kinds of sightseeing during the day and we met up for evening meals.

On Wednesday night we went to a new musical called "Next to Normal" which had me in tears by the end of the first act. Tears you say? Yes. Here is what I wasn't expecting: a musical about depression, experimental treatment for bi-polar, chronic illness, and the fracturing of a family after a suicide attempt. Awesome. What a cheerful, uplifting play. At one point Liza grabbed my hand and asked me if I wanted to go. It was a magnificent little play, but dark as all get out and certainly not what either of us were expecting. During intermission I watched a man contain sobs with his head in his hands and my heart broke with him-- a solidarity thing I think. Mental illness can destroy lives and watching it unfold on stage over several hours can be a painful experience.

On a much lighter note, we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which was a treat as always. That building is packed with beauty. I wish I could live there-- stretch my sleeping bag out in the new Greek/Roman wing and sleep with all those marble gods and goddesses.

















I love hot dogs. I don't care how "low-brow" this makes me. We bought these dogs outside the museum and I did not feel one bit of regret as some advocates for the ethical treatment of animals distributed materials to the crowd around us. I am 100% supportive of the fair treatment of animals, but I dig hot dogs. Is this a paradox? An oxymoron? I have gone to school for a lot of years and I still have no idea how to use these words properly.





Gotta love the Big Apple. It is one tough city. A tough city that could eat your soul if you let it, but is simultaneously packed with sights and sounds and people nothing short of extraordinary!

A VISIT FROM THE FAM

My sister Tamara and nephew Tyson came to visit for four days. They were great sports despite the fact that their lame hostess forced them to travel by subway at rush hour TWICE, which was just plain mean! And my sister is pregnant! Sorry Tam!

Tam loved visiting the pretty lady (the statue of liberty) with the inspirational quote: "Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free..." and Ellis Island. Tyson loved the Thomas the Tank Engine section at Toys R Us and Dunkin' Doughnuts while Aunt Carmen was most thrilled by the big piana at FAO Schwartz. Fun. Thanks for coming guys! You are the best!


















I love this picture of Tamara and Tyson. We were in Grand Central Station and they were enjoying the massive constellations painted on the ceiling. I find Grand Central Station absolutely delightful-- the movement of the commuters looks choreographed and the craftsmanship of the place is just plain impressive.

More friends are visiting this week, so stay tuned for more touristy pics!

A little bit of sun can go a long way...

A friend gave me a handful of sunflower seeds to plant here in New York City-- a little experiment actually-- and as it turns out, I planted them too early. Yesterday I was complaining about my small pot void of any signs of life and my sister said, "Of course sunflower seeds cannot be planted in March!" I must have looked sour because she quickly said, "There is always hope. You have planted to early, but there is always hope."

Why do I write this? Because there must be a lesson in this somewhere.

I'm not much interested in dwelling upon heedless or reckless behavior. That is too easy. I am quite hopeless in this area anyway. I fall in love easily. I throw myself into adventures and friendships and new ideas without much restraint. But how about this one instead:

Winter is long. Brown earth and sky and the skeletons of leafless trees linger in NYC this time of year and spring comes late. Warm days tease weary, wool-clad city folk and every Sunday a fine old gentleman leaves the 9 o'clock service with a glint in his eye and tells me, "Don't worry dear. Spring is coming." I pause for a moment and think, "Do I wear a tee-shirt that reads 'Seasonal Affective Disorder' or something?" More likely this man is simply a wise read of people.

Life churns and rolls ahead rather obstinately, like the line across my forehead that seems to be deepening on a daily basis. That will be a new one to deal with: smile lines that become permanent creases. But these are the least of my worries and I won't wax poetic here about aging. I think me and this pot of seeds are about looking for a miracle. We could all use a miracle or two. And we all need hope to shout a little louder some days.

And maybe life will spring up where we least expect it.

Flood!

Yesterday began with a flood. Literally.

I had taken an early commuter train in from Jersey (I spent Sunday night in Montclair after giving a presentation on Zambia) and arrived at my apartment just in time to wade through 5 inches of water courtesy of a randomly uncapped water pipe that flooded the 10th floor. Who would think that in NYC I would need to kick off my shoes, roll up my pant-legs and pound on neighboring doors to warn them of flood waters?! The maintenance staff was quick to shut off the water valve, so we were saved from a serious disaster, but it was a lively way to begin a day.

High blue skies in NYC today and the job hunt is on. Already have received "thanks but no thanks letters" but I gotta keep on keepin on. My sister and nephew Tyson arrive this evening so we will spend the rest of the week enjoying the city kiddie style, which will be fun. Toy stores, carousels, the park and dinosaurs courtesy of the Natural History Museum.

Life has been sad lately. But as Johnnie Mayer reminds us, "Bad news never had good timing, but the circle of your friends will defend the silver lining." And we all know it's true. I have some darn good friends. By the way, re-writing lyrics sans music really does not capture the magic of a song. In fact, it looks kind of stupid, but I have given up on looking cool. Long ago actually.

Keep on keepin on friends.

Sam

It is a beautiful day in New York. Not a cloud in the sky and a high of 62 degrees today! Can you believe it? And yet, my stroll through Central Park was not especially cheerful. I talked for a long time with a friend who is going through an especially crummy divorce and her tears somehow struck a chord with some of my own places of sadness. Sure sucks when life feels out of control. And just as my fingers were growing cold in the chilly evening air and my slovenly pace was looking especially pathetic for a privileged white girl on the Upper East Side, I met Sam.

Sam came bursting out of a building with a big smile on his face, waving at me as if we had been good friends for years. His friendliness literally stopped me in my tracks and I looked around me to make sure he wasn't trying to get the attention of someone else. Sam is the doorman of a building at 5th and 72nd street and simply wanted to know if I was enjoying the spring weather. He took off a pristine white glove, extended a warm hand, and introduced himself. Now, this man probably has no idea that he made my day. If life allowed such things I would have walked over and thrown my arms around his neck with thanks. Sometimes the smallest gestures of kindness can renew your hope in the world.

The figure in this picture is stuck to the sidewalk near my house. And he reminds me of Sam. A pleasant surprise out of nowhere.

Why Starbucks should hire me....

I was riding the bus home with my friend Millie today and I realized as shop after shop along Madison Avenue advertised "store closing" that perhaps my back-up employment plan may not be as solid as I once thought. My Fellowship ends at Madison Ave Presbyterian Church at the end of May and it is slim pickins folks! I found a job at the World Council of Churches in Geneva that looked awesome but before I had a chance to apply: HIRING FREEZE.

Yipes. This is the word on the street. Lay-offs and hiring freezes. At church yesterday my friend Kerry said a bunch of her colleagues at her law firm were laid off. Hmmm. Now I know who my competition will be. Who will be hired for the barista job? The former minister or the former lawyer?

The way I see it, attorneys have some things going for them: they are used to long, weird hours and offer total devotion to their employer. What I've got going for me: people skills. People skills and........ does it help that I have visited a coffee farm in Thailand that sells some of its coffee to Starbucks? Dang. Here is the major problem: NO barista skills. Nothing. Nada. Can hardly make a pot of coffee.

Since the attorneys clearly have some advantage over me here, perhaps I should keep seeking out creative ministry opportunities. Let me know if you have heard of anything!

Cheerfully Seeking Employment,
Your Carmen

A night at the Met

Tonight I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my friends Josie and Allison. We went to see a new exhibit of African textiles (mostly North and West Africa) and then go to a food tasting event that served "African inspired" courses. All quite delicious and nothing like the food I ate in Zambia. No nshima, no village chicken. One course was Zimbabwean collard greens, which were quite good and tasted authentic, but the red snapper on top, although muy delicioso, didn't seem very African to me.

There was a beautiful exhibit of chetenge fabric on small,brightly painted squares on one wall and the familiar, vibrant colors brought me right back to the small wooden shacks where these same fabrics were bought and sold in 1-3-6 meter units. You'd barter and bargain and finally walk away laden with beautiful fabrics meant to be worn, to be embodied. That is the beauty of these textiles: they are meant to move. To change in the wind; to take on new meaning as they follow the curve of a hip or drape over shoulders or are wound around the head. It is three-dimensional, moving art. Magnificent.

It was lovely and strange to see all of these very familiar fabrics on display in an art museum. These fabrics were a part of every day life- in the market, at church, at work, in the homes of the wealthy and in huts in the poorest villages. I danced with these fabrics wrapped around my waist, watched women dry dishes with this colorful cloth, watched it become a bag for groceries or a carrier for babies.

Here are some of my own chetenge pictures. Zambian textiles on display. Aren't these women lovely?!