People will see the light in you and either be attracted to it or try to diminish it. Don't let ugly forces ruin beautiful things- such as yourself.

-love from The Story Girl

I took a trip to the beach, which in itself should have been enough beauty. The waves were huge and sweeping. Laughter rang out everywhere. It was a beautiful day. Yet the day was not done with me and on the way home I took a wrong turn. As my GPS struggled to recalculate, I noticed a sign for an observation farm. I passed it and then turned around to visit. My GPS was quite angry, but I was rewarded for indulging my instinct.

 Immediately I was greeted by these white blossoms. I knew it was worth going further if this was only the start. They welcomed me warmly.

I hopped carefully along wooden planks that halfheartedly were meant to keep one from walking in mud. As I came to the end of the last plank, this view came into sight. It was after seven. That the sun was still this bright seemed amazing. The sounds of happy frogs abounded.

 Right past the sun soaked field were these beautiful plants. I loved the darkness against the fresh green.

And right past that was a small bridge over a small pond...little bugs bit all about my ankles. My feet were muddy. And I was perfectly happy.

The sun seeped through any crevice it could find and fought against setting. The plants seemed to be begging it not to leave them.
I found it hard to want to leave myself; however I began to hear the sounds of teens and realized this was a hot spot for local youth on the weekend. Thus it was time to go.




When I was young and my daddy would take a wrong turn it meant an adventure. Sometimes I wonder if he purposefully took wrong turns. He was never worried about it. He never asked for directions (which, lol, I understand a bit better now), but would logic out the next turn. If there was a garage sale on the way then more the better. Being lost isn't always such a bad thing is what he taught me. This of course can be taken literally or figuratively...this wrong turn turned to be the right turn for me just as many of the wrong turns I have taken in my life have taught me wonderful lesson. As Tolkien said, "Not all those who wander are lost".

Yesterday, as today is, was rainy. My galoshes, though adorable with little owls all about them, had two very deep gashes in them making them more decorative than protective. As I approached my office though my mood was still pleasant despite my wet feet. I was joined by the new Camera Obscura album. It was a wonderful companion and kept me in good spirits. Walking up to my office there is a little pocket park. The owners of our building put it there. They are savvy owners and are working to create the new hot spot in Jamaica Plain. The pocket park has been a nice respite for myself and my co-workers. On a sunny day it is a nice space to sit and feel the warmth of the sun, while being close enough to the office to run back quickly if needed. In the center of the pocket park is a little mini garden. At the start of the Spring it was filled with beautiful bright blossoms that were so beautiful they sometimes hardly seemed real. They have since come and gone. Since their passing the pocket park has lost a bit of its charm though the owners have kept it clean and in tip top form. As savvy as the owners of the building are though, they are not as savvy as Mother Nature. When the little garden was planted many of the seeds must have been scattered by the wind. Our office is next to where the train runs. The lot of land next to us is a bit bleak with untamed grass and a leftover feeling; however our little lost seeds found homes amongst the wild grass and now blossom brightly and merrily. It is our not so secret garden.

One red flower was right at my reach as I walked past. Though it was rather greedy of me to take it, I reached down and plucked it with nary a thought. As I sat at my desk, my work instincts kicked in. I began checking my messages and reading emails. I happened to look over and caught sight of a picture of my Grandma Jeanne. I looked at the flower pinned to her suit and knew she and my red blossom were made for one another- perfectly suited. I took her picture down and placed the flower next to her. They kept each other company just as her beautiful memory has often kept me company...at least in my imagination they did. My co-worker Joel came to my desk a short while later. His own Grandmother had passed very recently. I hesitated to mention the lingering sadness I still feel when I remember my Grandmother is no longer on this earth. Yet we shared a few moments of talking about the beauty of memories even in spite of the ache that they can bring....When I came to my desk this morning, the flower had faded.  But the memory of it bright against the memory of my bright Grandmother, well that warm feeling has yet to fade. To the beauty of cherished memories. 

"Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it."  

-L.M Montgomery (from The Story Girl) 

I have been gone for a while. I know it. I have an excuse I suppose. The lid of my laptop quite literally fell off making it difficult to use; however while this is an adequate logistical excuse, I suppose it doesn't seem good enough. I gave myself a challenge and I rather gave up on it when there became a small challenge to working on it. And I can feel the effects of not writing. This is the amazing truth I have stumbled on- actually writing this blog inspired me to look even harder for the beauty in everything. Lately, I have felt not wholly felt myself...there have been some rather difficult things happening in my work life i.e. the lives of the children I work with. I have been experiencing some mild traumas as a result and have experienced some of the uglier sides of life. I seem to keep running into angry and unhelpful people in daily life...ugh. This is why I don't feel like myself. I feel as if I have been counting the ugly things I have seen and collecting those stories- stories based in anger, fear, sadness- rather than the joyous stories of nature and humanity. So time to refocus. I have the lid of my laptop propped up by Bark Ruffalo aka the best stuffed dog in the world because it was given to me by one of the best friends in the world.

And here is my first photo of my re-found blog. I was on a walk around the Reservoir with my friend Kate Monster. Walking with Kate Monster is always a delight. Why? Because when it breaks down to it we are both still awkward youth trying to figure out how to live every single passion we have. We both often feel wildly misunderstood and we both are working to understand ourselves. There are not many people in the world that you can allow yourself to feel these things with and to be able to comfortably express how goofy you still feel. As we walked we came upon these ducklings. They were no longer the small and downy baby ducklings of the first of spring. They were awkward in every sense. Their mothers still hovered and I swear one rolled its eyes at me as if 'I need space' was exactly what it was thinking. Teenage ducks looking for space...the irony of the timing was not lost on me. I laughed as soon as one of the mama ducks give me the stink eye. The rest of our walk was of course charming as was every moment beforehand. There is nothing as beautiful as feeling understood. Especially when you often feel as goofy as these goofy growing geese. Friendship, genuine friendship, is one of the most beautiful things in life, but friendship shared in nature seems even more blessed.

Saturday was simply gorgeous. Sunshine knocked at the door and all of Boston seemed to embrace it with open hearts. And what of me? I got to spend the day and evening with a dear friend. We rambled around the Reservoir and through neighborhoods in Brookline for a large portion of our visit. One home within the neighborhoods was especially special- the yard was cluttered with 'treasures' and little garden projects that just made the house look comfy and lived in. The best part of the rambling and friendly looking home though was an antique bike that invited guests to 'Take a Book or Leave a Book'. I greedily took two books; however I am greatly looking forward to carefully selecting two books to replace the ones I was gifted. Obviously I was excited about my literary finds and the sunshine, but obviously the greatest joy was walking with someone that is a genuine friend.

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."
-Albert Camus 

This blog post is different. It is about why I try so hard to see the beautiful wherever I can. Every day I am exposed to some of the ugliest truths. I am a social worker for those of you who do not know. I love my job. I love what I do. I am proud of what I do; however nearly every day I walk away feeling tremendously worried and scared. Not for myself, but for the children I would give my life for.

A 6 year old watched his mother overdose. A 10 year old was abandoned by first his father and then his mother. A child was abused by his step father. And you feel sorry for them. You should. Are their parents villains? How could they do these things or allow these things to happen to their children? Now let's fast forward to these children's 18th birthdays and now do you feel sorry for them? Or are you crossing the street to get away from them? If one of them is shot are you piecing together evidence to prove perhaps he had it coming? 'Well, the school suspended him for having weed paraphernalia. He looked suspicious. He shouldn't have been wearing a hoodie.' The girl who had no father and whose mother was depressed all of her childhood. The girl who was molested at 7. She is 22 with 3 kids now. She's a whore. She's milking the system. Stealing your tax dollars. Do you feel sorry for her now?

There is a lot to be said about personal responsibility.  I believe in it. I encourage it. I believe that when you have children you have a duty to step up and the things that happened to you must come second, third, fourth to that child. But what about the responsibility that we have as a community and as a humanity? We put systems in place supposedly to help these children. I work within the system and I will be honest with you- the systems are designed to fail. Education, social services...they are designed to reinforce what people already believe to be true about race and class.  If a child fails we are blameless because they had
'chances'. If they succeed it is another sign that some people can pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Some people are just better right? (Please note- that's sarcasm)  Another stereotype reinforced. The systems are designed to maintain a status quo that thrives on society remaining as it is. Are we the villains then? But then how many of us debt ourselves and work for little pay so that we can be the villain? I would say next to none of us think that it would be great to make very minor salaries so that we can reinforce stereotypes and be told 'Oh your job must be so hard, but so rewarding. But I would never do that' or 'Oh, but you get summers off.'

Then who is the villain? Who does it benefit for the system to fail is the real question. It isn't the kids, it isn't the teachers, it isn't the social workers, and it sure isn't the communities that the kids come from. I am not going to answer that though. I just want you to think about it. And here is what I really want you to think about- don't these children deserve better? We need to start challenging one another to ask- why don't WE deserve better? Because we all deserve better than what is going on. I hear people speak in disparaging ways about communities and I wonder when did zip codes begin defining community? When did we lose focus that we are a humanity- a collection of humans- a community all of us? And when did we lose focus of empathy? We must teach and learn empathy so that we don't fight in solitary, but in solidarity. So that our struggle doesn't turn to greed. So that we fight together with the understanding that WE ALL DESERVE BETTER.

When systems don't believe in love because it isn't measurable or in compassion because it isn't billable there is a real problem. It is ALL of our problem. It is rooted in race and class no matter how much we want to think that it is not. I am not saying this to be hurtful. I am not saying it to point fingers. I am saying it because this is the truth I am living. We re-routed a bus of children today because two blocks from one of the children's home was a shooting with two victims. One of our children had an Uncle killed by gun violence around when Newtown occurred. So many of our children have been abused. We feel sorry now. We skirt consequences for them now because of our sympathy, but we will throw them away when they are 18. Tears flow from my eyes as I write this because how many of these children that I love will die before they are even 18? They deserve better.

Who is the villain? Perhaps we all are for being complacent. But I want to be a hero. I deserve better. You deserve better. We all deserve better. When we judge people we must take a moment to think more largely, because there is a bigger story. A bigger story then one person. A bigger story than one community. It is the story of us- do we want to re-write it though? Or do we want it to continue as is? I think that we can all be heroes. Let's find the beauty in one another.

I am anxious for Spring, daffodils, and sunny weather; however this snow day (hopefully our last) was perfectly needed and necessary and perhaps will help me to be all the more grateful for the aforementioned things. There has been something I have been most grateful for and have meant to share and now have time to do so as a result. I'm afraid there will be no pictures this post though.

Anyhow, last Saturday was bright though there was still snow on the ground from another snow (though small) storm. I had to be up and about early that morning and after my business was done I decided to get lunch and eat eat by the pond at the Forest Hills Cemetery. I knew that the bright sun reflecting on the snow would be particularly beautiful and that the geese by the pond would be out (I had alternative motives for wanting to see the geese- I hoped to give them some of my bread and thus spare myself the carbs). I did not anticipate that the grounds and the roads within the Cemetery would only be partially cleaned. I started down one path and was enjoying myself greatly. As I suspected everything looked amazing. The beautiful gravestones stood especially proud and tall from the snow. Down another path I went and again I was struck by the beauty and then as most paths do it came to a fork. And both paths were covered in snow. I couldn't turn back without needing to back into the graves and I was not going to do that. I thought about going in reverse as an option, but the snow on either path didn't seem too daunting and I judged I could easily cross it in the car. I turned left and I was right UNTIL...

The end of the path- there was a huge snow bank from the plows. It seemed potentially surmountable though and I braved it. So stupid. All my Southern lack of real snow experience was in effect and the car was angry. I was stuck in the snow bank like Pooh Bear in the honey hole. I got out of the car. What was I going to do? Did I have a shovel? No, because clearly I also had no sense. So my great idea? I began kicking the snow with the hopes that would help. Did it? Of course not. I was at a loss. And then two women approached with two adorable dogs.

"Need a hand there?"

I SO did. These two women were clearly tough too. They were decked out in appropriate winter gear and boots and looked as if they understood Massachusetts winters in ways I never will. My confidence in them was expansive. Their idea? Push my car over the snow bank. And they pushed. They pushed hard, but the car didn't budge. Then walked up an older man and his wife. He was chuckling long before he made it up to us.

"A man is here to help," he stated as he arrived.

Now, normally that would tick me off quite a bit; however the way he said it wasn't meant to be mean spirited. He was, I could tell with one look, a jovial and fun man, who likely was the life of any party. And his wife was clearly tickled with him. He joined the push party...still it didn't budge. He took on my method and began kicking snow.

"Learned this trick while I was stationed in Iraq," he joked. We all laughed. Especially his wife. And then she joined in to push and with her added help I was over the bank. I was ecstatic and spilled gratitude profusely.

"Got some money for us?" he asked.
"If I had some I would," I replied.
"We would never take it. We are glad to help."
"Exactly," added in one of the women. "Our pleasure."
"It's beautiful here right?" he asked me.
"I love it here," I replied.

And then we all parted. I came to the Cemetery to experience beauty in the juxtaposition of nature, art, and death and I found all of those things, but I also found humanity- the most beautiful thing of all. I hope you are all cozy and warm.