my good things for the day.
My close friend Ane and I are stressed out; it's just the semester of tears and chaos. We're both trying to survive with grades, fund-raise for the ride, train for the ride, and of course deal with everything else that comes with being 20-year-old college women like relationships, family, etc. etc. Sometimes it's so easy to get totally overwhelmed, and it's all made just that much more difficult that probably the most stable pillar in our lives (each other) is hundreds of miles away. But there are three things we do to compensate:
(1) Technology. I'm a hardcore cell phone and email addict, and I am willing to admit it.
(2) Whenever we talk or email about all of the stress in our lives or cry to each other about this or that, we rarely end without "good things of the day." It could be the warm wind we felt walking home from class, cookies someone sent us, a good conversation we had with someone, or the prospect of a thunderstorm tomorrow. It could be anything. It stems from a tradition I've always had on canoe trips called Rose, Bud, Thorn. Everyone on the trip shared their roses and thorns from the day, and then their "bud," or what they were looking forward to for tomorrow. At the camp I worked at this past summer, we did something similar called the Grateful Circle. Oftentimes it was the most meaningful part of the day. Life gets crazy, and I'm not vain enough to think that my life as a college student is any more stressful than anyone else's. These are the things that remind me that underneath the craziness there's a current more simple.
(3) Our mantra: It'll all work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out yet, then it's not the end.
On that note, my Sunday was all a Good Thing. I slept in. My boyfriend and I went to Chipotle for breakfast/lunch; a new one has just opened, and they are rare sightings here in Michigan. On the way home we stopped at the U of Michigan Botanical Gardens. It was such a beautiful day as we wandered around the park. The spring is still early enough that the breeze kept us cool despite the sun, and the sun felt so welcome on my skin after so long a winter. The place was nearly deserted, and we sprawled out on the wooden bridge over the little stream (we were full and sleepy from Chipotle of course). Later at work, some older musicians came and rocked out on a harmonica and guitar, which was so fitting the night as storms were rolling in.
I'm not sure if I can say this without sounding cheesebally, but every once in a while you get to witness an image or a scene that is so beautiful, touching, and nostalgic, etc. Last night as I was sweeping in the back of the cafe, I saw a little boy who was at the age where he was just becoming more comfortable on his own two feet, but still walks stop-start a little. He was walking down the alley holding hands with his father. When they came up to the giant puddles, he stopped and seemed to not know what to do. Then like any kid does, he naturally discovered the deep and profound thrill of jumping through them. It's a shame that us grown-ups always have to keep our expensive shoes and clean pants dry. I can still remember my brother and I at our old, old house when we were little. It wasn't in the nicest neighborhood, and the driveways weren't all even--which made them perfect for making the biggest, deepest puddles a kid could ever dream of. My brother had green rainboots with frog lips and eyes popping out of the toes..
(1) Technology. I'm a hardcore cell phone and email addict, and I am willing to admit it.
(2) Whenever we talk or email about all of the stress in our lives or cry to each other about this or that, we rarely end without "good things of the day." It could be the warm wind we felt walking home from class, cookies someone sent us, a good conversation we had with someone, or the prospect of a thunderstorm tomorrow. It could be anything. It stems from a tradition I've always had on canoe trips called Rose, Bud, Thorn. Everyone on the trip shared their roses and thorns from the day, and then their "bud," or what they were looking forward to for tomorrow. At the camp I worked at this past summer, we did something similar called the Grateful Circle. Oftentimes it was the most meaningful part of the day. Life gets crazy, and I'm not vain enough to think that my life as a college student is any more stressful than anyone else's. These are the things that remind me that underneath the craziness there's a current more simple.
(3) Our mantra: It'll all work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out yet, then it's not the end.
On that note, my Sunday was all a Good Thing. I slept in. My boyfriend and I went to Chipotle for breakfast/lunch; a new one has just opened, and they are rare sightings here in Michigan. On the way home we stopped at the U of Michigan Botanical Gardens. It was such a beautiful day as we wandered around the park. The spring is still early enough that the breeze kept us cool despite the sun, and the sun felt so welcome on my skin after so long a winter. The place was nearly deserted, and we sprawled out on the wooden bridge over the little stream (we were full and sleepy from Chipotle of course). Later at work, some older musicians came and rocked out on a harmonica and guitar, which was so fitting the night as storms were rolling in.
I'm not sure if I can say this without sounding cheesebally, but every once in a while you get to witness an image or a scene that is so beautiful, touching, and nostalgic, etc. Last night as I was sweeping in the back of the cafe, I saw a little boy who was at the age where he was just becoming more comfortable on his own two feet, but still walks stop-start a little. He was walking down the alley holding hands with his father. When they came up to the giant puddles, he stopped and seemed to not know what to do. Then like any kid does, he naturally discovered the deep and profound thrill of jumping through them. It's a shame that us grown-ups always have to keep our expensive shoes and clean pants dry. I can still remember my brother and I at our old, old house when we were little. It wasn't in the nicest neighborhood, and the driveways weren't all even--which made them perfect for making the biggest, deepest puddles a kid could ever dream of. My brother had green rainboots with frog lips and eyes popping out of the toes..
posted by elizabeth at 6:39 AM
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