Thoughts

I'm in a weird mood tonight....I love to get my old notes, writings, journals, scrap notebooks, etc. out and reminisce on what an IDIOT I used to be.Seriously I can't believe anyone was ACTually my friend. I pretty much think I'm almost not the same person I was say, four years ago. Of course people change, but I've gone off the radar in some aspects.If I could go back and do highschool again, for like, two weeks, wow. Let's just say I'd kick some DRAMA ass.

Some people used to tell me that I would "turn goth" - that they could see me in a coffee shop on a NYC corner, writing and wearing a black beret with a somber look in my eye. Actually, I think it was Perrin Lance who drew that dire scenario. And while I don't actually see myself as THAT miserable, lol, I do find myself being drawn more and more to a kind of "dark side" if you want to call it that. I'm not a witch...not yet, anyway. HA, okay, that last part was a joke, but seriously, I find a deep satisfaction in other ways of life that are so polar opposite than my own. And I don't just mean the punk/rocker/Gothic chick in me, either. Maybe it's the Gemini in me. You know, the good girl is usually out, but there's that badass girl in there just raring to go sometimes? Is that why I always insist on falling for the guys I can never have? Anyway, this isn't a sob entry. Feast your imaginations on a world bigger than ours right now...

Ever since I can remember I've been fascinated by other cultures and religions. The thought has crossed my mind to adopt kids that are of different races, like two or three from two or three different countries. I know I've said I don't want kids, but when I read a quote in a magazine the other day, I couldn't help but think, "This is me!" It said, "I often stared at what I thought to be interracial adoptive families. I would want to follow them. I can't explain why, except that imagining myself in a family like theirs made some kind of bone deep sense to me."Maybe it's my unending desire to never conform. I want to soak up all the riches of the people God has put on this earth, with the unique ways that they live, love, laugh, and die.I ache with a fierceness I would have never thought possible to visit the country of India. It all started with a book so poignant about today's teenagers the peer pressures they face, from an Indian/American girl's point of view. I've also read "The Twentieth Wife," a story about the Emperor Jahangir and his wife who ruled steadfastly beside him, Mehrunisa. Lately I've been reading all about the Persian Empires and the vast beauties of their courts and traditions. What would it have been like to be a member of the Royal Harem? Of course, having sex with a nasty old guy would be gross, but other than that, it was a great honor to be a part of the Harem, and you were the envy of all the common women of the land. I want to see the enormous city that Akbar built to honor the priest who predicted his son's birth. I want to look upon the Taj Mahal with my own eyes and partake of its intended romantic inspiration. I got this excerpt from a book about India, and I can't get it out of my head...
"As Mumtaz Muhel lay dying she whispered a final wish in her husband's, the Emperor, ear. She asked that he build a monument of such perfect proportions and of such purity that no one could be in its presence without sensing somewhere within himself the eternal wonder of the power of love and the inevitability of its passing with death. She passed away soon after, having spent the last of her living breath giving birth to her fourteenth child. The Emperor grieved for eight days, alone in his room, neither eating nor drinking, and when he finally came out again, his appearance was so altered that he was hardly recognizable. He aged greatly. During the next twenty years he devoted to designing and building his wife's tomb, the Taj Mahal. Then, nearly thirty years after the death of his true love, at the age of seventy-four, the Emperor himself, Shah Jahan, accidentally ingested poison and died. Next to his bed a tiny mirror was embedded into the wall, set an angle as to perfectly reflect the Taj Mahal. There he had lain while he was dying, gazing at the reflection of his beloved wife's tomb, white and noble across the river. The guards found him, his head still turned toward the mirror, his eyes still open and staring uncomprehendingly at the lovely image in the reflecting glass."
Is that not beautiful?? I want to see this vast monument to love in real life and photograph it to my heart's content. I want to eat their food and talk to their people. I want to cover my hands in beautiful patterns of henna ink and dress in saris that float weightless about my body, modest yet inexorably arousing. I don't care about the dirt or the stench - I'm smart enough to know that most people don't bring back the clothes they wear in India because the smell of curry will never come out. However, I'm aching to go so badly that a couple pairs of clothes are worth it. Another country I am dying to see is Christ's Jerusalem. I want to go where Jesus went, I want to stand on Golgotha and feel love in a very different, very powerful form. There are so many places that I have read about in the Bible which I think I only recently fully understood are still there!! That these places I've heard about since I was born, literally, are waiting for me to come and partake of their glory. I met a guy on the plane the other day, about my age, and he was very passionate about the world and its beautiful cities. As he told me about places he had been, his eyes suddenly took on a dreamy look and he held both my hands lightly in his as he said, "If you never see any other city for the rest of your life, you must visit Israel. Words cannot describe the magnitude of its beauty or history. The people who live there are so kind, and so inviting, you feel like you are coming home." Soon after, while I was in Baltimore on a layover, and an infomercial was on television about LeSea Tours. It was a trip to Israel. I sat transfixed while person after person relayed almost exactly what Mark had said to me on the plane. I heard Santiago whisper, "Listen to your heart."

Is the Universal Language speaking to me? I find that Omens are becoming a much more noticed part of my life nowadays. And they have always been there, I just didn't know how to see them. It isn't that I am not content - rather, I feel that I have a journey before me and I cannot live fully until I complete that road. Like the saying goes, "It isn't about the destination, it's about the journey."Some people only give heed to what is happening at this moment in time, and while I fully condone Carpe Diem, I also know that today is quite possibly only the Beginning.

Do I make sense? Or do I leave you feeling cold? Do I even make sense to myself?

I have a question that I feel may never be answered until I get to heaven. Have you ever noticed that when you turn on your blinker signal at a red light, and there is a car in front of you and a car behind you, that - even though initially the blinkers start at different speeds - in a matter of seconds they are all three in SYNC? And then, just as quickly, they are out of sync again. The same goes for windshield wipers on a bus or diesel...if you watch closely, they start out at the same rhythm, but, just like the blinkers, are soon out of sync and doing their own thing. But just as quickly, they gain their original tempo and glide together for a few moments. WHY???!?!??!!?!?!?

I beseech, thee, brethren.
Follow the desires of your heart...