Blessings in the Crumbs

thankfulness doesn't need to come in a package
or a dish
it doesn't need to be grandiose or one of a kind.
 your thankfulness doesn't need to be thought through in the grins, and award winning moments
and it doesn't need to only come one a year, once a week, or every now and then that one time..

thankfulness encompasses everything you do, and people you come in contact with.
thankfulness happens every morning, and every moment you take another step forward;
you can be thankful for the grandiose, and you can acknowledge the small crumbs in your life.
you can be thankful for the moments of fogginess that led to these present realizations, and  you can be thankful for those times that were unmonumental that led you up to where you are standing today.
thankfulness is east and west, it's yesterday and tomorrow and it can be taller than any skyscraper.

Thankfulness is embodied in every second of my day, because  I'm alive. 
Take a second, and be thankful; you are a monumental creation.

Assisting Direction

sometimes we want what we can't have
other times, we long for what is unattainable
yet, i find my moments are most spent making the turn a half mile too soon.

cruising down crooked roads, short stops, and fast highway signs
this car doesn't know it's own speed.
what happens, you see, is i have my map, my gps, pen and notebook, compass, and extra band-aids all loaded into my car- but no matter how much you prepare for life's demands,  your demands have the ability to float out the window, and life... will always be life. band-aids not included.

so here we are...
my gps  filling the air with his authoritative voice, and suddenly I decide to take my own route..
(I know my way better than a another anyway, right?)

"prepare to turn left"
and then i just kept cruising
i wanted to go new my own way.

and then my tire blew out..
what's a little bump in the road? ... of course i can fix this. I came prepared.
I know my way.
i took out my compass, and stood out in the wind
i stood next to the damage, as the wind insisted it would take me down
and held my compass out, and held it with certainty that it would at least point me in the right direction...
or..
wondered if it would point to tell me how this tire would be fixed...

patched up and ready to keep truckin
i packed up the gps, and unfolded the map that gave me less talk, and more of an overall picture of where i was, and where i wanted to go next.

i drove, put the windows down, embraced the wind, avoided the potholes, and took advice when i got lost.
we don't always have all the right answers, and it took me several wrong turns and a dead end signs to figure out that i was ready to keep at a steady speed instead of racing to my end destination.

sometimes i have to listen to my head and take out my compass. Sometimes, i have to carry on with what i really don't want to and follow the words of others...and yet... sometimes, i have to let the weather be the weather, and accept the change in climate
that's life. 

Swim

For so long, 

for-countless hours, weeks, and moments i felt as if i was swimming.

not the type of swimming that makes you smile and excited to jump off the diving board after the next kid..

but that kind of swimming where you're in a large lake.

I felt like i was in a body of water, treading water because

shore was out of sight, and nearby land was in nowhere to be found.

i was swimming, kicking my feet and arms, looking for any idea of were i was going..

but also, where i came from.

just felt tiring, and uncertain of when i'd see some hint of a shoreline.

but the problem with swimming, is, if you stop...

you drown.

and in no way was was i going to drown in the middle of the lake...

not now. 

 not before i saw the mirage turn into an image that existed in real time.

Unaware of my surroundings and where-to-next's

i felt sand on my feet

i felt my arms begin to relax as the lake began to even out

i saw the deep lake floor beneath me turn from 'nothingness' into 'approachable ground' in 10 seconds flat

all at once my surroundings filled in with color, and i was being relieved of my treading.

after so long of 'working to an endless and unattainable goal', i finally felt sand on my feet.

i finally saw the diving board.

i finally got to dive in, knowing where the lake floor stood

and where i just swam from.

i'm in a good spot now.

i feel like im still treading and peddling my feet

staying afloat.

but this time, i can enjoy

knowing i won't drown.

Escape for Today

this moment of my life
it seems nothing is concrete
certain
or tangible
for the future.
don't get me wrong, i'm a happy camper
i smile when i wake up in the mornings
but its still that crazy phenomenon
when i can be standing still, yet the world is spinning beneath my feet.

so, in turn, it makes me grateful to have a moment of silence
just for a moment
just so i can be sure of this one tidbit:
i have an escape through art.

the finished piece
color+soundwave+philadelphia=escape.
just for this moment

Dove in

Since teaching this summer
through two courses at the "academy"
and through my own course outside of school
i have been surrounded by art making,
yet thirsting at all costs.

thank God! Because it finally kicked me in the butt to actually start something.

im about 4/7 done with this...
still need to add the 'details' and windows to le buildings in le soundwave
so far... im surprisingly excited and impressed

the before and after-- i almost want to do another piece, just inspired by the background of this one.

painting is great. i always forget how great it makes me feel.

He and I

im usually a lover of all seasons

of new and changing

of fresh and onward

though seasons always result in compromise

and sacrifice.

i feel myself moving through seasons, and not the seasonal

more the destinations of the heart.

though these new chapters and patterns for change, result in inspiration.

i've been blessed by someone sweet in company

and i feel it is necessary to display my gratitude for them in my life

through what i do best:

expression in the arts.

inspired by the song that has held itself on repeat since the moment i met him: 

inspired by love for music represented into the visuals:

inspired by how these lines remind me of where this season is taking him...and how amazing he is going to be here:

thus, the beginning of my creation of the song "rainy zurich", as sound wave visuals, into the philly skyline, as an oil painting.

should be interesting. 

seasons are always changing

always moving aside

trailing along

and moving away, or so it seems..

but they always come back.

Bumps

look, look, searching

smooth sailing, my eyes were focued

not even focused on anthing finite, or radient with color

just simply... focused.

i had a, b, and c to accomplish

i had my two feet to stampede through each one

still remaining focused.

roads were clear, the sky was brilliant, and the breeze was clean with hope

i had a hunch that it would be sailing smooth

from here on out.

you know, those calm seas, the fresh-paved roads, the new train car on its first ride

from here on out

i had my focus locked away.

except one day, a bump in the road came into my view.

i felt the sea shake, i heard the train slow a bit.

a, b, and c were told to "hold on a minute, i'll be right back"

when i noticed the bump in the road

at the very same instance

i realized my left foot was unfocused, and my thoughts were going along for the ride.

i had every intention to remain on my path

i had every intention to travel the seas, the tracks, and the apparent bumpy roads independantly

but i simply bumped into someone else, not searching for the bump, we both bumped into.

we were each other's bumps.

we were eachother's beautiful disturbance

we became the soft sea breeze that inhibits sailing

we became the extra set of tracks that veers the train

we became the bump in the road.

we were both so taken back, by this bump in the road.

look, look, searching...

 simply together... focused.

we closed our eyes, we counted to a, b, and c, clasped hands, and hugged in the rain

we took a leap...

but we still haven't fell...

we still haven't hit pavement

All of Them

moments aren't just when your heart flutters, or when you almost forget-
but a moment is when your heart drops and catches itself just in the nick of time.
moments consist of energy and sound waves reverberating-
of lulls and long periods of unknowns.
moments happen for a split second
and moments last for an indefinite amount of time.
a moment is never the same as the last moment
and will always be in every time zone you travel.

moments occur with unclarity;
with absolute precision and direction
a moment warrants acknowledgement.

it happens when the rain just turns into a down pour, when your head hits the pillow at night, when you knew you gave it your best, and when no one else is even in the room.

Moments can be held, they can be told. Moments can be remembered and can be seen. A moment is fleeting, yet it wants to continue until tomorrow. A moment is yours.

This is your moment. These are your moments.

Currency

Someone told me once:

 "In order to stay awake while driving, when you are tired beyond control, your cure is holding the largest bill outside your blowing window."

 Theory is that you will be so kicked into gear and snapped out of your sleeping state, that the scare of losing any chunk of change will open your eyes. 

I thought:

 "wow, belonging to that statistic would make me a disgrace to my own kind. No. No I cannot be chunked into that sleepy, desperate, money-hungry fact."

Driving to where the trees became taller and the houses made themselves lesser known, my eyes and consciousness began making a vanishing act on me on route 80. Honestly, I can't even blame them- 2 hours at constant speed, it was nearly impossible to glory at marvels after such a long day.

So, I did what any sane, half-awake speeding driver would do.

I reached for my wallet. 

Snagging a 5 dollar bill was really, all I could scrounge up, being a post-college-grad now. Despite the amount, the sound alone of my currency flapping in the open breeze, ready to take its flight out the window without my permission, was enough to awaken my state of mind, and realize I was drifting towards the left a little.

As Abe Lincoln stared me in the eyes in complete disbelief that I just came that close to saying my farewells moments prior, I had my thought:

five dollars woke me up.

mountains, valleys, and diversity in every car that passed, had no toll on my excitement for open eyelids. No change in the volume knob, and no wonderful stretch of land was going to wake me up from the long day I had been through.

what awakens your soul?

Is it money? a job? Love? The prospect of it all? Happiness? Success? Is our currency something that runs our consciousness...because, if we lose it, we'd be lost?

I found myself asking what my true currency was. What had bought me out. I had wondered what would wake me up if everything else failed on that stretch of route 80 in its attempt.

I had an answer. Yet, it wasn't something as tangible as a five dollar bill...

currency.

Pea Pods

sitting in my big love cushioned sofa chair
pondering what these next four weeks will toss to me
and remembeing what the last four years have blessed me with.

i'd have to say, Kutztown, and fellow fellowers around my fellowship,
im rather pleased with how my time here has been
and how it's being, and will be, and will have been, and never could have been and all that other stuff..

you think when you're pea pod in size
"dah, i'll never get to college"
and here we sit, in this love cushioned sofa chair
thinking on the last four years
realizing it's got to be all packed away in four weeks.

i never actually came to believe until now that
we made it.
here we are, and we actually made it.

im a bigger pea pod now,
possibly even a little wiser than i was four years ago, though
i couldnt even tell you half the professors i had last semester.

how is it:
in the moment, the trees around you seem to be going so slow, they're almost going backwards
then you look at the clock,
and you realize, you're actually moving so fast you didn't even see you were moving in the first place,
and now it's half past your bed time.

here we are.
we made it.
a handful of season of people always circling around me
and though im not complaining, because each spiral of personality had its time and place;
four years worth of people seasons.

here we are.
maybe we're all sitting on our own love cushions tonight
separate, but  tip toeing with the clock that wants to race us.
we made it.
somehow...but we did.

Wheels

Teaching on a cart will without a doubt never be perceived of as the “fun” job, but for me, I am trying to tell myself otherwise. Since my last placement, as well as this placement, I have proven to myself that I am in fact capable of teaching no matter where I am. Just like I tell my kiddos every day that they are capable, I too am the same. Would I crave my own classroom with windows covered in student artwork, with personalized cubbies and references to artists in past history to display around my room? Of course my reply is yes. But, when life hands you a cart, you need to push it full of paints (and of course a water bucket).

My students not only have a little more respect for me because they know what I do is a little tedious, but they know I am that passionate that I’d go distances to spread the knowledge for and with them.

Art-on- a-cart has taught me important organization, how to stay on your toes when something goes awry (it almost always does), and how to make the most out of the little you have. My lessons have taken a turn; once teaching from the bold and the beautiful, using gallons of paint, and varieties of papers and techniques, and now to the limited supply of what’s left after two years from an art storage closet. As a practicing art teacher, I have grown both frustrated at times, however more so eager to learn more in lieu of my kids.

 I always tell my students that art isn’t just about paint and cutting. It’s about problem solving and how to fix something if it’s broken. Well, my classroom is broken. How will I fix it? How will I spread the wealth that the creative right brain in each and every one of us has to offer? How can I communicate through color what words won’t ever express on a page? I never thought I’d have to face obstacles such as these, but thank you God for pulling me not only around the hurdles, but also completely through them. I learn something new every day, and I have a squeaky cart to thank for that one.

Patches

What does one do or say when “rats ate your art project”? As a student teacher, I thought I would have to see a lot, but this was not one of the familiarities I was comfortable familiarizing myself with.

I woke up last Thursday, with eagerness and an anxiousness to begin my painting onto rain sticks my second graders had so beautifully and chaotically created. I knew My supervisor, Dr. Rayala was coming into my classroom (that wasn’t actually mine because of the grand ‘ole art on a cart), so I knew this lesson would need to go as smooth as possible. Though, when I walked into my classroom (that wasn’t actually mine, but the storage closet), I noticed half of my rain sticks had been munched away by furry critters in the night. They left their mark with left over paper mache pieces scattered all around the room, as well as droppings, to ensure that I would be 100% stressed out. It worked.

Being in Allentown School District, I knew I’d have my struggles and high demands for being on my toes at all times, but I was not prepared for having to think on my feet like this. What was the “ethical” thing to do in that situation? I thought, and thought, and realized, no matter how much I thought, I had class in a couple minutes, and kids needed art no matter what the circumstances. I “sanitized”, and patched the holes…and moved on. Just like I think many of us need to do while we’re student teaching. Many times, we’ll find ourselves in a rut, and the easy thing is to panic and beat ourselves up (ironically enough, I just taught one of my 4^th graders what the word “critical” meant, and how we are our own worst enemy),  but, we just need to sanitize, patch it up, and move on.

Surprisingly, I was pleased with how the lesson played out. I was “confident” (or as much as one could be, when I knew the kids were touching mice specimen), and was the same Miss Berry for them, as well as for Dr. Rayala. Just when my confidence decided to take a leisurely stroll, my “calming music” on volume level 34, decided to shuffle, and blast out a rap song right before my ears! (of course, nothing can go smoothly..) I raced over to my speakers, hijacked my iPod, sanitized and patched the hole. Distraction could have sunk in for the rest of class, but… Miss Berry patches moments; she doesn’t let the hole get bigger.
As for the rain sticks... they're in my car now. 

For Me, For You.

i want the type of love where you walk through the door, and your skin is coated

you can just feel the weight of words, and emotions, passions, joys, hurts and tears all alike crowd and circle around you

i want the type of love that encompasses the bed at night, and fills up your every thought even when you're trying to dream

that type of love that gets caught in in the doorway just as you're late for work

you get pulled back for just one more squeeze to remember why the last one felt so good.

i want the type of love that has no clear beginning and ending, no specific spot on the map; it just exists

you only know what color shoes you're wearing, and you packed your love's lunch by accident in your lunchbox

i want every small detail to be the biggest parade

i want the love that celebrates every joke you didn't quite understand

the love that can't sleep at 3:17 am

and the love that kisses you without warning.

you know, i want that love that fills my lungs

and protects what's under my bed and into my thoughts.

that love that doesn't question all my antics and unnecessary questions

i want a love that makes me feel those tickles in my insides everyday

like i just met you for the first time all over again.

i want to feel like i'm flirting with you.

every word sounds sweeter than the last.

i want the type of love that does not judge or mock

when new ideas are groomed with passion, and worked through together

that together type of love

that love that sees with no hesitation

that will fly around the world because in that moment it made perfect sense.

the love that will put off cleaning the kitchen for a day because we haven't shared vulnerable moments and exciting ideas in over a week.

i want the type of love that gives me the oversized sweatshirt at night, and i want the love that forgives for what happened yesterday, and what will happen tomorrow.

i want the love that is honest and true. forever and always special. i want the love that is courageous.

i want that all.

love is all of these things.

Gas, but No Keys

everyone has those moments
the moments when you can sit in your bed late at night
and still remember your first kiss

how it was chapped and nervous
beautiful and innocent
eager and clammy

you have the moments of perception and clarity all at once
and the finger that traced your spine and every imperfection you swore you had
but he declared otherwise

you have moments of familiar feelings
when all you can feel are the living room walls as your friends
and the quilt on your bed is the only one who holds all your late night secrets now

its almost too possible to have moments when your thoughts linger into
your past
and journey through the trials, high-fives, smiles, and star-struck-eyes.

everyone has moments
when the ground becomes soggy with how much we're pouring onto it
and how we aren't able to dial his number anymore.

we have moments when all we want to do is rip down the sky
post a "be-back-in-15-minutes" sign,
and run away.

we have moments of longing
of doubt
and of desire.

it's moments when you can't seem to screw your head on straight enough to make a valid conclusion
you keep hitting the rewind button when everyone else is watching a different show.
it's moments like tonight when i only want to be traced on my spine again
and i want something more than these walls to hear me out.
i'm the most uncertain i've been in a while
and even if i wanted to tac up a "be back soon" sign
it wouldn't suffice for the weight of my heart that has already decided
the only feelings it wishes to announce to my body
are the rewind thoughts.

im trying make new memories
new quilts
new high-fives for my heart so it can move on
but it's locked in a different car.

just because you put gas into a car
doesn't mean it will move on.
you need to drive it.

i'm stuck.
stuck in these moments.