CREDO

(Credo means "I believe" in Italian. What you believe in places you in the world. It reveals who you are in this moment of your life.)

Credo. I believe. I believe in opening your arms wide and breathing in every little particle of life thrown your way. Not like the saying, “absorb everything like a sponge,” because one, you can’t absorb life, it’s too big, and two, sponges are usually bacteria ridden. Who would want to be that? Rather take life in the way hawk takes in the desert skies, both the sharp, icy blades and the winding warm currents flit through each of his feathers. I believe in seeing people. But really seeing another. Not yelling “hihowareyou” over your shoulder at someone you call a friend, but that you’ve only had coffee with them that one time 14 months ago. Seeing with all of your senses the way that you saw your mother when you were a child-- holding her hand at the grocery store, laying down next to her and feeling your breaths in matching up with her breaths out, not ever thinking what “masterfully intelligent” thing was going to come out of your mouth before her last word curled out of her lips, and sitting comfortably in her silence. I believe in treating yourself with kindness. Working to improve yourself in ways that will make you more able to love and choosing to love the things about yourself that you can’t change, simply because they make you, you. I believe in always having something around you that makes you uncomfortable. Being in control and feeling good about everything is fine. And that’s just fine, if you are fine with fine. But I believe allowing yourself to feel uncomfortable awakens your senses. It will make you question yourself and your actions and your motives. It will push you away from monotony and into new adventures. And I believe that it is in those new adventures that your next friend, your next dream, and your next self await you to come find them.

pounding on the fire escape door

This morning I woke up to unusual, yet extremely lovely gray California clouds blanketing the sky. I decided that a long swim in the warm water lap pool at our rec center was just what I needed. I swim. Whatever. I tromp back in my bathing suit, pink towel, and goggles to my apartment building (conveniently only a few feet away from the gym). For some dumb reason the elevators were not working and after ten minutes of waiting awkwardly in the lobby, I locate the emergency staircase and begin to climb. Just my luck, you can only access floors 5, 10, and 15 from within the stair well. I yell, “Oh brother! This should be illegal!” I get off at floor 10 and locate the outdoor fire escape stairs. I make my way down to floor six and pound on the door that says, “This is not an entrance. Alarm will sound if opened,” until someone hears me (from within their apartment) and decides to follow the sound of the frantic pounding. I’m sure it surprised him to see me... soaking wet girl in a bathing suit with hair sticking up all over the place holding a bottle of laundry detergent (which I randomly procured while waiting in the lobby) and shouting, “HI I’M NOT A BURGLAR! SCOUTS HONOR!” 

That’s one way to get to know your neighbors! It’s also a philosophy we should all live our lives by. There are so many things that people say, “are really really hard to do.” For example certain jobs (I KNOW you actors, film makers, artists hear that all the live long day!) Yes, but those that say those kinds of things are also the people who think it’s more practical to take a squat in the lobby of an apartment building and waste their lives waiting for maintenance to come fix an elevator. Dreams that are worth chasing after, are the ones you are willing to climb fire stair wells for. The ones your are willing to ignore signs that threaten alarms for. The ones that make you proud to pound on doors for. Instead of being worried that our dreams are “hard,” are “unpractical,” are “illogical,” we should be worried our ambitions are not big enough. That they aren't worth enough for us to risk and sacrifice for them.  Standing outside in my squishy flip flops... I thought, “I am damn lucky that I dream too big. I’m one of the lucky ones.”