Three Year Stability Marker

* before reading this post, please make sure you are seated next to something large and wooden, such as a door, a table, a bookshelf…then, knock on it.

I have a big anniversary this month.

3 years ago this month was the last time that my life was thrown into complete chaos and mayhem. 3 years ago was the last time I went to a funeral. 3 years ago was the last time I heard that tone of voice I had become so accustomed to. 3 years ago was the last time that I felt like I wasn’t going to be able to hold it all together, that I was going to *poof* into oblivion.

There was a time in my life when all of these things were commonplace. When I came to expect it, to hold my breath, to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop. There was a time when I woke up on the morning of my senior prom and went to a funeral. There was a time when I thought it was never going to stop, that I was going to whirl on in a fury of chaos and neither of my feet would ever again meet the ground.

Mostly though, it was a time when I felt as though the sadness of the whole world had been placed upon my heart.

And then something happened.

Maybe it was because I finally had a chance to take a deep breath and make an attempt to put one of my feet back on the beautiful soil of the earth, but I heard a voice, from within the depths of me, whispering quietly, almost inaudibly, “You are capable of this…this and so much more.”

Slowly, I stopped looking around every corner. I stopped flinching at every phone call. I took both of my feet and cautiously planted them firmly upon the earth. I began exhaling the toxic breath that I had been holding in for so long.

Since, I have reached into corners of the world and of my heart that I had never imagined existed. Sometimes, I still find myself paralyzed, from stress or maybe from fear… But it is in those moments that once again, I try to quiet myself in order to hear the tiny little voice from within my depths, “You are capable of this…”

Finally, after three years, I am no longer learning about grief and anger and overwhelming sadness…now, it’s a new lesson I am learning. Today, its contentment I have to learn to live with. You would think that contentment, by nature, comes easy. But, on the contrary, contentment is far from the world I had become accustomed to…I always thought of it as one of those things that we, as humans strive for, yet never have the great privilege of experiencing. Isn’t it just some ideal that the universe keeps at arms length to make sure that we are constantly stretching, yearning, trying?

For the last few weeks I have been feeling odd, like something was wrong… but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I glanced briefly into the depths of my self. I checked in with my emotional self, my spiritual self, my physical self, my intellectual self and my social self. And I found ---nothing. And that was when I realized what was wrong was…nothing.

In all reality, I barely know how to exist with nothing wrong. I have spent so much time trying to keep my head above water, treading so furiously, that I forgot I know how to swim. I am well aware of the looming promise of transition in the near future, but I also know how utterly capable I am. I will make the right choices and I will continue growing and learning.

But things aren’t changing tomorrow, which means I need to get comfortable. I need to be at ease without sadness in my heart and disarray in my world. I need to find peace in those dark corners of my soul that have not known peace in my adult life. I need to be kind with them and patient with myself. I need to remember that being peaceful is not the same as being bored. I need to look up at the sky, through the skyscrapers and the pollution, with my feet planted firmly on the concrete and exhale everything my heart has been familiar with, opening it to the peace I know to exist.

It takes a village-- Penn State Admissions Essay

So, I have officially turned in my application to Penn State Harrisburg's Master's Program in Community Psychology and Social Change....

Exhale.

Now, I have to a) figure out if that's what I want to do. b) find out if I get in

I figure, I spent a lot of time and effort putting this admissions essay together and someone should see it other than the admissions officers at Penn State....so here it is.

Knock yourself out.


Please take two to six double-spaced pages to answer the following question: C. Wright Mills wrote, "The sociological imagination enables its possessor to understand the larger historical scene in terms of its meaning for the inner life and the external career of a variety of individuals....The sociological imagination enables us to grasp history and biography and the relations between the two within society. That is its task and its promise. To recognize this task and this promise is the mark of the classic social analyst...."

Discuss the intersection of your biography with history and society. How have the society and the times in which you live helped to shape who you are? What do you hope to accomplish in life? How do you think our graduate program will help you to reach your goals.

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There is a village in the Andes Mountains where the Quechua people have lived for thousands of years. Due to elevation, they struggle to find food that nourishes their bodies and don’t have access to many of the things that we consider necessary for everyday life. - There is a community at the base of Mt. Pinatubo in the Philippines that was destroyed in 1991 when the volcano erupted. Any livelihood that the people had was stripped from them with the deposit of tons of ash on their homes, their crops and their entire community. - There is a slum outside of Nairobi, Kenya, where there are children who are raising their siblings after their parent’s deaths. Often times, these women find it difficult to feed their families and they struggle with the harsh living conditions of the slums. In each of these places life exists in some of the direst of circumstances, but life does exist. And in each of these places, new life is constantly being brought forth, and these villages continue to raise their children.

I have been raised by many villages. As I look back on the twists and turns of the journey I have made thus far, I see dozens of people from each of my villages, still urging me onward. From my family- my brothers, parents, and precious little sister- to the people who endured my coming of age as an adolescent, to those who taught me what it was like to be a role model, and to those who opened my eyes to villages and cities unknown to me before. I see them and I know that it is their villages that have prepared me for the big city I am in now and any village I can help foster in the future.

From the day I was born I have been part of a magnificent village. As I greeted my sister in to the world, or argued my way through adolescence with my brothers, this village was magnificent. I am the third of four children. My parents first put down the roots of our family in the same place they themselves had always been rooted, Illinois. We lived a simple, yet privileged life as white, middle class Americans. I lived in a home, in a safe neighborhood surrounded by the best playmates a girl could ask for. Our family always had one car, which meant we didn’t go on extravagant adventures while my dad was at work. Instead, we stayed in the neighborhood, creating our own extravagant adventures from our imaginations. When I was 8, this village was uprooted and moved to Colorado.

With this move, a new village was thrust upon me. Coming from the Chicago suburbs, this new village looked different to me. This village was made of people who were all of the same color and my new friends in this village lived in houses more than twice the size of my family’s home. With time, I put down roots. As an adolescent, I especially rooted myself in a group of friends from church. These friends quickly became everything to me. As crushes, friendships, first kisses and first loves flourished, this village stood strong. Then, as life quickly moved on from the extravagant adventures of my childhood, entering a time when death, loss and heartbreak abounded, these villagers stood near.

As I packed up my things to head to college, this community had begun to crumble under stress and grief. My second year of college I became a Resident Assistant in the hope of finding a community to be a part of on campus. Yet it was not until a group of women arrived that I found what I was looking for. My second year as an RA I was placed on an all women’s floor and from the beginning it was clear to me that I was not there to simply be a part of this community; I was needed to cultivate it. Through the year these women battled conflict, death, trips to the hospital, eating disorders, self mutilation, sexual assault and bi-polar disorder. And I, as their fortunate leader, had the privilege to support them and empower them.

Taking my own next step forward, September 2007 I left for Prague, Czech Republic for a semester abroad. Suddenly I was far from what had been familiar to me, learning new culture and customs. While abroad, I was able to see what villages in Poland, Hungary, Germany, Austria and the Netherlands looked like. From my history and government classes at school and each of the people I met, I learned of new foreign villages and how they differed from my own. I took in every experience and tried integrate it into myself, creating a person who has understanding for the way different villages operate and how their villagers feel about that.

Each one of these villages I have been a part of has taught me much and has created the person I am today. But there is more to be considered of these villages than just their existence; their context is a vital part of their influence on my life. I grew up as a white, middle class American, which means my life came laced with privilege. I always attended public schools, in districts that consistently scored high on standardized tests. I was born in the 1980s, and the America remembered from my childhood was a stable one. Though, if there was anything more stable it was my family. Through the span of my life my family has stayed intact, and my parents have always had a loving, supportive relationship. The context in which I grew up gave me many opportunities that I may not have had otherwise.

Growing up Catholic was a crucial part of my development as well. During adolescence, such a critical developmental stage, my church community was there for me. From this context, I learned the respect for the dignity of fellow humans and I gained a passion for social justice. Since, service and outreach have been a part of the life that I learned to live. I went on my first service trip when I was 16, leading me to where I am now, a full time volunteer in New York City working at a Fair Trade organization.

In college, being an RA took me places I never dreamt it would. I was challenged far beyond what I thought were my limitations. I learned that I was capable of cultivating community and helping others to build healthy relationships. My community in Residence Life, by teaching me to be more aware of diversity and privilege, broadened my horizons.

Then, there was my semester abroad- I worked very hard to make this semester happen, both financially and academically. While in Prague, I worked hard to comprehend the culture I existed in. I was living in a post-communist nation, which had social implications unlike I had ever observed before. The people I met in my travels and the classes I took taught me about worlds and about contexts that I never knew existed before. To each person, each city, each country I visited I learned there was a context, a community.

During my undergraduate career, I chose to be a part of a Bachelor of Science psychology program. This was a difficult decision for me to make, knowing that I was not naturally a science inclined person. I struggled through classes such as Physiology and Statistics for Behavioral Sciences, yet I learned much. Most of my psychology and many of the political sciences classes I took were based on an application of what I had learned; while science based classes were rote memorization. My grades, nonetheless, do not reflect my interest and attempt at a new learning style. During my struggles in these classes I found that though I was not accustomed to learning in this way, the material was interesting. Often, I still find myself applying it in my life. Looking back, I am happy with my decision to participate in a Bachelors of Science psychology program. I have found that it gave me a rounded education and helped me to develop skills I wouldn’t have naturally developed.

To me, life is not only about enjoying this world, but ensuring that others are able to do the same. I feel a strong sense of responsibility toward the world’s marginalized populations, but my goal is simple. My goal is to give a voice to those who have been rendered voiceless- to empower them. What I am going to do, and what this Community Psychology and Social Change program could help me do, is to work with these villages, learning together how to create a context where people can thrive. I hope to work in a humanitarian setting, emphasizing the importance for mental health care in our world’s communities. The time has passed when we can make separate attempts at solving our world’s problems by only addressing physical health or economic conditions. Many within the United Nations and associated NGOs are calling for the integration of mental health into humanitarian and post-conflict development plans. I hope to work within this cause of integrating mental health into a public health setting, to care for our people more effectively. I come from a science based psychology background. Now, I want to incorporate this background, gaining the necessary further education to work towards my goal. This Community Psychology and Social Change program is ideal for that. I have not applied to other graduate programs, not because I have not explored them, but because from what I have found, they would not serve me in the way this program would. By learning to assess problems at the level of communities, I will be more prepared to collaborate with community members to understand, reduce and one day, prevent the vast social problems enabling poverty, violence, cultural conflict and infectious disease. It may sound ambitious of me, but I am going to change the world, if only through they eyes of one village.

To the women in the Andes Mountains, to the families in the Philippines, and to the orphaned children living in the slums of Nairobi, there is a context, a community, a village. It is their villages that have enabled and created them, just as it is the communities I have been a part of that have enabled and created me. The sociological imagination that C. Wright Mills speaks of truly allows us to look at each of these communities and situations, relating the history and the individual together, rather than as separate entities entirely. The proverbial “village” is not only what raises us, but what gives us our context, our understanding and our opportunities. From the communities I have come from, and the community I hope to create within this program, I will be able to take this understanding and apply it, giving others the opportunities they deserve.

United Nations: 53rd Session of the CSW

I must say, the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library is probably the grandest place I’ve ever composed anything and really, it happened by accident. Beginning my second week at the UN Commission on the Status of Women, the session I had planned on attending was canceled, so I headed to the nearest place I know where I can sit, yet don’t have to purchase anything, the library.

It is a majestic oasis here in the city. While most of its surroundings here in midtown are steel buildings reaching far into the clouds, the library seems content existing in its 2 story stone splendor.

But I digress…

As I said, I have spent the last week at the Commission on the Status of Women at the United Nations. It has truly been an opportunity I feel so amazingly privileged to be a part of. From the moment I stepped inside last Monday it was clear this was going to be an experience unlike any. I was suddenly surrounded by some of the most powerful women in the world. Now these women are not presidents, or secretaries of state or queens, yet they are powerful. They are powerful beyond politics, they are powerful in heart, in spirit, in mind. They are powerful in diversity. They are from all over the globe: Zimbabwe, Taiwan, Norway, Chile, Rwanda and so on. From the first moment I stepped in and joined the company of these women, it was clear how large their shadows, and their impacts are on the world.

The first session I went to was on preventing gender based violence. We listened briefly, and then split up into discussion groups to tackle the first question, “ What is the biggest issue concerning violence against women in your country and what legislation has been enacted to combat it?” Discussion went around the group from the executive director of a Canadian advocacy group to the tribal leader of a village of Nigeria, each with an eloquent statement of the vast challenges of gender based violence and attempts at quelling it. Then it got to me—and I couldn’t string two words together, let alone a sentence, and hell if I know anything about specific gender based violence legislation. I’m a full time volunteer at a Fair Trade organization for God’s sake!!, but I want to learn!! So I sat, listened and tried to take in as much as I could while feeling like an overwhelmed child in the company of so much experience and knowledge.

The week, or more accurately, my self confidence, got better. By Thursday I knew my way around and wasn’t feeling like a wide eyed child anymore. My first session this day was. “Mental Health & Psychosocial Consequences of HIV/AIDS for Women,” put on by the NGO Committee on Mental Health. I sat, listening intently as three highly experienced professional women called for mental health workers in a humanitarian context and an integration of public health and mental health programs. In my head, I am thinking, “this is me! This is what I want to do!!” Now, this is no surprise, this realization, its what I have been working toward for a while now, but the certainty, the passion I felt, for that hour and a half. I knew I was EXACTLY where I belonged. And towards the end of the presentation when a woman sitting across the aisle from me stood up to thank the presenters, tears began to roll down my face. She explained, crying herself, that she is a Ugandan woman who is HIV+ and her 19-year-old daughter is failing out of school due to the mental health consequences of the disease. She told us that her husband had died from the disease in 1994 but that her family has suffered most, not from the physical ailment, but the psychological ones. As she spoke, I cried. This is what I am to do; I am to help alleviate the suffering of those already suffering from so much. That, I can do.

But the day didn’t end there. After a brief break with enough time for lunch a and chat with my mom, I headed over to my next session, “Empowering Women Through Life Choices.” I expected this to be a session helping us, those who work with women, to learn to empower them. In the end, it was more of a motivational speaker. She was a cognitive behavioral therapist, who specialized in addiction and her general opinion was that we as humans can “make the best” out of any circumstances, if we so choose. They key, in her pep talk was the choosing. As she spoke of simple psychology principles, I began to take a closer look at her message (since I do, after all, have a degree in the field.) Now, don’t misunderstand me, I fully support these messages of choice that she was sending, but it seemed to me that something was missing. One anecdote she gave was the story of her 10-year-old daughter. Her daughter wanted to go on a school trip that was going to cost about $200 and after talking it over she and her husband decided that they could not afford this. Their daughter spent and evening baking cookies, the next day filled a wagon and walked the streets of her neighborhood selling cookies, raising the money herself. She was empowered. This is a wonderful anecdote, but what if, when she went home, there had not been the ingredients for cookies, or the money to buy them? What if she had not had a wagon to tote them around or neighbors who could afford to buy them or a safe street to walk on? There are women all over the world who don’t have money to feed their family, let alone bake cookies. There are women living in slums, surrounded by other people as poor as they. There are women and children all over, even here in the US, that couldn’t walk down the street and be safe from violence. How do I empower THOSE women? The ones without resources? Those women did not CHOOSE the circumstances in which they exist. Can we really tell them this is about their CHOICE? When I asked the presenter this, she told me, “Even in the most terrible of circumstances, the concentration camps and in the holocaust there were people who chose to be empowered.”

Hm. Well I am glad she read The Diary of Anne Frank, but I wish she remembered that Anne died in Bergen-Belsen in 1945. I want to try and preserve both body and spirit. And though Anne’s story is the one that we like to hear, there are millions of other stories. I want to know how to empower THEM.

Strangely, the empowering thing to me about he session had less to do with choices and more to do with the critical thinking I was able to engage in. I was thankful that due to the fact I already was familiar with the psychological mumbo jumbo she was rattling off, I could critically look at what she was saying and apply it to a worldview, not just a limited ethnocentric view like she was giving. It was good to know my capabilities.

And the week continued as such, with sessions on post conflict community building and pornography and patriarchy. I met, listened to and mingled with some of the most educated, experienced individuals I’d ever met. I made connections, I assured passions, I opened my eyes and more importantly, my ears to the women and the men of the world. I found what they had to say heartbreaking, painful, powerful, astounding…but mostly, I found it hopeful. I find it hopeful that Rwanda, a country only 15 years removed from one of the most horrific genocides we have seen, leading the world with 56% of its parliament women. I found it hopeful to see so many women coming together and having conversations that 10 years ago, 5 years ago would not have been happening. I saw progress and I was honored to be a part of it.

Walk On

I realized today that much of life is just interpretation.

I spent the afternoon at a movie. I treated myself. Not only to the show but also to the $5.75 small popcorn that accompanied it. In the interest of watching something light and entertaining I decided on “He’s Just Not That Into You.”

It wasn’t until I was in line at the theater that I realized what I was doing. It is Valentines Day and I am going to a movie, by myself…and not just any movie but, “He’s Just Not That Into You.” Wow. Pathetic?

But here is the real story.

It’s not pathetic. Not even kind of. The truth is, I had a wonderful afternoon. Even though I fundamentally disagree with the entire concept of the movie, I enjoyed it on a completely non-life-changing level. I got out of the movie and decided to walk the two miles home instead of taking the train. On the way home I talked to my parents and enjoyed the beautiful day.

When you don’t know any better, the day does seem pathetic. But the reality is, the afternoon didn’t materialize out of self-pity or loneliness, it occurred out of the desire to get out of the house and treat myself to something I don’t normally get to do. And the fact that it was Valentine’s Day? A happy coincidence.

And so I begin looking at the other interpretations in my life.

I graduated from college and moved to New York City. I am doing what many young idealists would love to do, working for an organization in which I truly believe. Wow. Perfect?

But here is the real story.

It’s not perfect, not even kind of. The truth is, it’s hard. I have realized that though I work for an organization, in which I truly believe, I am not good at it. Don’t get me wrong, I get my work done and I get it done well, but I am not really suited for it. Inventory systems and spreadsheets and thousands of handbags and mismatched pottery…. It’s not all my cup of tea.

When you don’t know any better, my life seems perfect. But the reality is, its not. But the rest of that reality is: that is okay. I may not be where I want to be a year from now, but I am on my way there. I may not even know where I want to be a year from now, but I am on my way there. The people I am meeting, the things I am learning, the experiences I am having, they are all why I am here. I am not here for perfect. I am here for growth. And that, I am sure, is happening.

I may not be well suited for it, but when I go to work, I ensure that women all over the world are treated with dignity in at least one aspect of their lives. I help to ensure education for their children or their siblings. I help to provide them with a means to put food on their table or a roof over their heads. I may not be perfectly suited for it, but it matters.

When it comes to the interpretation of my life, there are any number of versions to choose from. But what matters is that I am just where I am supposed to be. I am tending to the parts of me that need tending to and I am cultivating relationships that I choose to. Nothing about it is pathetic and nothing about it is perfect. But I will keep it just the same.

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Cant Go Back Now- The Weepies

Yesterday when you were young
Everything you needed done was done for you
Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone, what can you do?

You and me walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now

You know there will be days
When you're so tired
That you can't take another step
The night will have no stars
And you'll think you've gone as far
As you will ever get

You and me walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now

And yeah, yeah, you go where you want to go
Yeah, yeah, be what you want to be
If you ever turn around, you'll see me

I can't really say
Why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter
Are the ones you take all by yourself

You and me walk on, walk on, walk on
Yeah, you and me walk on, walk on, walk on
'Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now

This I Believe--Tarak McLain

Something new to strive for--the wisdom of a 7-year old.
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NPR Weekend Edition, January 18, 2009 ·


Seven-year-old Tarak McLain was born in Thailand and lives with his family in Austin, Texas. He collects and hands out food to the homeless and raises money for orphans and impoverished schools. He reads about the world's religions and listens to public radio. On the 100th day of school he and his classmates were asked to bring 100 things, most brought pecans, or nails, Tarak brought a list of 100 things he believed. For "This I Believe" on NPR he edited it to 30.



I believe life is good.

I believe God is in everything.

I believe we're all equal.

I believe we can help people.

I believe everyone is weird in their own way.

I believe hate is a cause for love.

I believe that when I meditate I feel peaceful.

I believe we should be generous.

I believe brothers and sisters should be kind to each other.

I believe kids should respect their parents.

I believe I should not whine.

I believe people should wake up early.

I believe people should go outside more.

I believe in nature.

I believe people should use less trees.

I believe we should help the Arctic and rainforest animals.

I believe people shouldn't throw litter on the ground.

I believe people should not smoke.

I believe God is in good and bad.

I believe in magic.

I believe people should not give up.

I believe love is everywhere.

I believe that God helps us to have a good time.

I believe we live best in a community.

I believe we can protect people in danger.

I believe we should help the poor.

I believe it's OK to die but not to kill.

I believe war should not have started.

I believe war should stop.

I believe we can make peace.

“No ordinary wings I’ll need, the sky itself will carry me."

As the city speeds past me, with its yellow cabs and Wall Street brokers, it overflows with people, ideas and deadlines. It walks a constant line somewhere between potential implosion and awe-inspiring existence.

In that sense, I often feel a bond with the city. Instead of overflowing with people, my head seems to overflow with possibilities and walking a line between self-destruction and extraordinary existence is nothing new in this life.

December was a challenging month for me. Between 50-hour workweeks, whirlwind road trips to Georgia for protests, and all of the wonderful people who visited me, I was simply exhausted. By the time Christmas came, I was too tired to even think about the fact that I wasn’t going to be home with Colorado with my family. I just wanted sit down. Hannah and I spent our Christmas in the Upper East Side at John’s apartment since he was going to be in Michigan for the holidays and we needed to get out of Astoria. On Christmas Eve, we trekked our way to the Upper West Side for Christmas Eve service at Riverside Church. It was cold and rainy and having accidentally gotten off at the wrong stop, we walked 20 blocks to get there. We walked in, simply looking forward to sitting down and warming up and were greeted with an awe-inspiring church, rivaling some of the most beautiful cathedrals I experienced in Europe. It was the beginning of exactly what we needed.

Christmas Day we woke, made our way to the grocery store down the block and made ourselves a Christmas feast of biscuits and gravy, apples, orange juice and coffee. We then made our way to Penn Station to take the Long Island Railroad to a fellow GSV’s family’s house in Garden City. I think both Hannah and I were nervous about this. Christmas traditions are things that are hard to bring other people in, and were acutely aware
of how gracious they were to let us into their home and their Christmas. As I boarded the train back to the city that evening, my face literally hurt from laughing and smiling all day. Kate’s family was not only gracious; they were funny and easy to talk to. I never once felt like I was intruding upon their Christmas. As I fell asleep that night, I still wished with my whole being I was home with my family, but I felt extraordinarily fortunate to have been welcomed into such a wonderful family. It was exactly what I needed.

And so came New Years Eve. Sara, Hannah, John and I ended up at a bluegrass show in the East Village and successfully avoided tourists completely. As the countdown commenced, I was blissfully unaware of the ball dropping some 30 blocks from where I was. I had champagne, bluegrass and three wonderful people who bless my NY life, it was exactly what I needed.

Without skipping a beat, on New Years Day Hannah and I boarded the Chinatown bus to Boston for the weekend. The first thing I asked Hannah, who went to college in Boston, was “Where are all the people?” I have become so accustomed to New York City streets bursting at the seams with people, little Boston seemed empty to me. But I soon realized that in Boston, I felt I could breathe. I hadn’t realized I couldn’t breathe in NYC, but the refreshing full breaths of Boston air took me by surprise. The sprawling aisles of grocery stores and wide-open spaces of Barnes and Noble made a stark contrast to my cramped NYC. I found Boston to be a city after my own heart, with beer and history at every turn. It was nice to get out of New York, and Boston seemed to be exactly what I needed.

And I went back to work feeling somewhat refreshed for the first time in months. Have things slowed down since the sales season ended as promised? Not really. Things are still crazy and some days being in an office of overworked women is wearing, but the mission remains the motivation.

Still, though the city exhausts me, there are days when I know why they call this the greatest city on earth. Being able to go out for street food and cupcakes before going to see the dress rehearsal of Saturday Night Live reminds me of the opportunities I have here, and how I need to learn to take advantage of them. Its not often I get to sit 5 feet from the SNL stage, as cameras are all around me and Rosario Dawson, running form skit to skit. This city moves fast, but there are plenty of times that I have to simply stop, and appreciate the awe-inspiring existence of it.

Exit

I have to leave the city now, she said,
Or dash my soul against my will instead.

I do not wish to have the quiet part of me
That once could rest (the part
That could just be) tossed
Aside and left somewhere
For dead.

Tonight it seems to me
That what some friends call energy
Is nothing more than a phenomenon of nature known as
"Incurable Whirling Disease."

Please, take me far from here, she said,
The buildings sting and echo
With the fumy cries of yellowjacket cars.

I took her hand in mine and said,
I'm thinking of a place now
Where I used to have to tell myself
Aloud,
Those are not clouds,
They're stars.

By Linford Detweiler