Painting I Saw

 

I saw this painting in the paper the other day, and it brought back memories of my art history class from 10 years ago! It's interesting to think that it was a decade ago because I still feel like I remember a lot. My instructor was engaging to listen to and had a surplus of knowledge about the painters, paintings and stories behind them. 

I enjoy looking through art books depicting especially Impressionism. I think that's my favorite art period, or one that stuck with me, and feel drawn to the most. 

This painting from the paper says, 'Chocolate Bar, A riff on Édouard Manet's painting 'A bar at the Folies-Bergere.' 

Meeting at the Olive Tree

 Underneath the olive trees. That's where my sister and I enjoyed talking and sharing about all things creative and inspiration. How we desperately need something to call our own, to be challenged by but most especially to gain energy and inspiration- (a life force) from. 

Those beautiful olive trees reminded me deeply of Jesus speaking to me, of finding me underneath the olive trees on that beautiful afternoon sunlight part of the day, before dusk and the chilly air entered into the scene. Jesus found me just like he always does- but this time I could imagine even better. That inspiration helped, and the beauty and newness of the area. The lights on the trees brightly shining before it became darker, and the dark green earthiness of the leaves. I could relax. 

Jesus found me, like I said when I could be present to my sister, to dear baby Araceli, and I could just take in the scene and the surroundings. I was somewhere else physically but also mentally- no longer trapped with debilitating anxiety or short breaths. I could envision Jesus extending his hand and inviting me to trust him more, and easier to do so underneath the lovely olive trees. But is it only possible when the atmosphere is majestic, soft and inspiring? 

He knows everything and allows for time to become still. For my dear sister and I to chat, to enter into the moment and take the breath-taking beauty in with minor distractions and just that peace that flooded the near spring air. 

Followed by St. Therese

 

On a street in Monterey

These flowers caught my eye, so pretty and vibrant. They look like roses, but I don't think they are. But since they look somewhat similar from far away, it made me think of St. Therese. I feel like she's been 'following' me! And only until recently I noticed it. 

I would consider her a favorite saint of mine but I don't always think of her, but she comes back like she never left. I gifted a prayer devotional to my sister for Christmas inspired by her, and then her patron saint that was chosen for this year was St. Therese! 

When I got my new phone I was deciding upon the screen savor and I thought of something with roses, or spiritual like Our Lady but then St. Therese of Lisieux came to mind and her shower of roses. And then it clicked- she was 'following' me again Lol. 

Hello, St. Therese!!

St. Therese near church in Monterey

Wake Up To Full Time

 5 years ago, I started my first full time job. I felt so ready for a new schedule and routine, and ultimately to be in the work force. It took some time to land this job, and at the time felt like it would be the perfect fit.

The weeks leading up to my first day on the job, I was mentally and spiritually preparing for what was ahead, and saying goodbye to open days, a surplus of free time and being a part timer worker and student. 

But as the days turned into weeks, it became to feel quite heavy and hard. I didn't realize the exhaustion of what a 40-hour work week would feel and look like until I was in it! I also had this expectation for myself to 'look the part'. I switched my nail polish color every few days to match my outfit, do my hair and look my best- all this pressure to look like a young professional, but in a stressful way. 

I would think about my dear sister a lot, she had worked at the same preschool only 4 years prior. Just that thought helped me, as I remember hearing some of the ins and outs from her time there, and her famous line before work, 'another day, another dollar.' I could understand all that she was referring to- the people, the drama, the annoyance, the tiredness. 

I felt like it was a big shift for me, not just mentally. I had studied something totally different from the ECD route in undergrad, and had worked with students academically and in tutoring, so it felt like not a lot of cross over for me. I would try to add in my own spin on things and language to keep my spirits up and stay inspired. This would look like interacting with the children and learning about their native language or sharing in the things I knew. 

Overtime as well, I saw how unhappy people were- all the drama, gossiping and slandering abound, it felt like there was no joy and it was rotten underneath it all. The outside felt nice and shiny, but I knew it was a facade as well as fake smiles as I passed by teachers' rooms or casually talked with them. 

I worked really well with 2 teachers in their classrooms and got along well and felt understood. That was an oasis as everything else felt extremely hard, unnatural and like I was always doing something wrong and being corrected. 

Later on, as I was preparing my next steps and unsure about the future, I got connected with my friend who was one of the teachers I connected with. She gave me her contact information as I told her my plan that I would be leaving, in the small breakroom that was literally so small, only 4 people could be in their comfortably. As she left, I saw a black bug (don't remember if it was a cockroach or a spider) on the ground crawling to safety, and I thought of it as a symbol, that underneath it all it the place felt corrupt, and toxic. 

I wish I had photos taken from this time, as it was so pivotal. They were on my older phone and then they didn't get saved. I have many memories of eating lunch in my car right near the park and pool, listening to Relevant Radio any chance I could to keep me sane, bringing a book with me to read during the children's nap time, or while on my 10 mins breaks, looking at inspiring Instagram accounts and blogs to keep my spirits up, being in charge of story time at the end of the day and picking out the books, or setting up the audio tapes. 

And I can't forget those bright pink blooms on the trees outside during February. I got allergies from them when the wind became so strong. I also remember just trying my best, and to use my time well. Instead of hanging out in the break room when my shift started, I got out of there as fast as I could to avoid all the gossip and made copies, cut paper, sharpened pencils and filled up the glue for art time while looking at Mt. Diablo and contemplating the hard season I was in. 

While at my next job just a few months later, I would see the same mountain dominantly present near the school and like a painting directly seen from the classroom windows and remember those rough transition months full of growth. 

40

When I get stressed, overwhelmed or just plain busy I tend to check out a lot of books from the library. I seem to have a long list of ideas that aren't even written down necessarily but just come to me as if I'm supposed to accept it. Here's another, another and another- okay, I'll take it! :)

Last spring, coming out of a crazy, hectic, stressful, rainy and overwhelming March, I felt like I was flooded with books that were stacked and almost tipping over. I had to wait to get to them because oh, another assignment and task that was pressing and demanding. 

By the time early April came around and my spring break, I had 40 books checked out! This picture below with my dear nephew and God son was around this time- my spring break had just started last year, and I had some time to relax, but then another pressing assignment paper was due the next day and had to get it done before my mom and I had our overnight trip to the amazing oasis of Monterey and Carmel. 

So, eventually, little by little, I had to turn those (40!) books in and remember them for another time. I could and couldn't believe it, partly because I had lost track, and just couldn't get to all of them. But this seems to be how my mind operates- an overload of information, inspiration which to me equals books and reading continues to have its door open. 

I feel in a little similar spot to then- I've requested a lot of books and that come in every few days to pick up on top of the books that I see and want to check out while I visit. But at least there is some give with inspiration and ideas- the string of it isn't super short, and sometimes the inspiration feeds off itself.

 Maybe it's also something with the busier you are, or when you feel your mind is in different places at once. Inspiration starts knocking or just seems to enter in from nowhere and all is alright. Or at least, the work still needs to get done but will because there are interesting things to attend to later. :)

Mornings with St. Gemma

 I started the first few weeks of the new year reading through excerpts of St. Gemma's diary after Mass. I've read through it a few times in past years, and really gained a lot from it. And going through some of her points and spiritual life with Jesus after Mass were very enriching. 

I have a picture of her above my bed. And I included a part of her writings in my talk to confirmation students. The day I was composing the talk, I read the reflection for that day in line with the readings for Mass. And there was a reflection taken from St Gemma! I had a feeling because as I was reading it, it sounded like her writing, and spiritual life.

I feel she is my spiritual friend and sister, accompanying me on this journey and walk of faith, and am inspired by her example and witness of her strong relationship with Jesus. 

Those Formative Years

 I feel that my past is looking straight back at me. Being at the place where camp memories scream of the good ol' days or the 'golden' days and cherished bonds with dear people, my heart could only be nostalgic for what once was. But here I was, standing on the same ground as when I was their teenage age. How time flies! But also how with time things can change, and we grow!

I was a teen, a young adolescent myself leading and serving younger people. And now I'm doing the same but with the teenagers themselves. That impressionable age, where everything seems funny, silly, or even awkward such as silence. Peers and friends start to become more important and influential as well as the media. 

The cabin where I stayed at this location when I was their age was a makeshift cabin- there was a surplus of junior counselors that year and not enough room for us to be in the other cabins. It was a blast to share this small space with my peers and friends. Us girls who would talk a lot, stay up late and also do our duties as Junior Counselors in the evening. (We even had our own counselor to guide and support us...so yeah, we were still kind of like babies.) We were learning the difference between being rambunctious and irresponsible versus excited and responsible- and usually were crossing those boundaries at any given moment. But what can you expect from 9th grade girls?

But now that makeshift cabin has been made into a chapel. When I walked in and we had Mass in there, I couldn't help but think of all the memories and conversations- our sleeping bags and luggage strewn about the floor, our decorations. We were the Jasmine cabin and we had pictures of the Disney Princess on the door. It felt like a slumber party every night for a week. 

While in the chapel for Mass yesterday evening, I couldn't help but think of the symbolism of the rock structure behind the altar. How layer by layer, God forms our lives, our experiences and makes something out of them. It's hard to see the final outcome in the moment, but overtime, you can look back and see some sort of 'structure', if you will. 

Other parts of the retreat center kept coming back to me full of memories, special people, laughter and camp schedules and fun. To be honest, everything looked a bit smaller, granted, I haven't been back for nearly 13 years! But those years were what shaped me, the formative years of friendship, fun, virtue talks, dancing, laughter, games and dressing up silly.

 I kept it close to my heart, as I was reliving it deep in my heart, in my bones. It's kind of weird since I'm not really in touch with any of those old friends...those memories were so pivotal in our growing years, yet so long ago! And maybe that's also what made me feel nostalgic and a little melancholy- life was so weightless and simple, just like seeing it in those teens- they have their whole life ahead of them and are so inquisitive and have spunk with their varied God given personalities. They have so much sparkle in their eyes. 

Like a Parched Tree

 I was reflecting on some really pivotal moments from last semester- in how I was feeling, especially internally. It was rough. With full focus on the Library Science field with my classes and internship, I usually felt like I was sinking, or sometimes barely hanging onto a very thin string. 

There were of course some things that brought my spirits up and helped. I remember distinctly how I was feeling one day in the middle of September, and I was going to pick up my parents at the airport. I was excited to see them again but felt so internally (what's the word?), dead, off with myself, and like I hadn't used any ounce of my energy, gifts or personality in a span of time. 

As I was stopped at stop light before close by to the airport, I saw a homeless man on the side of the street sitting in a wheelchair holding a sign asking for help. I remember I had some cash on me, and so right before I was to pass him by, I handed him that dollar bill with everything in me. He took it, rather grabbed it with a sense of desperation and I could tell he was so thankful and surprised. And immediately he said, 'God bless you!' As I drove and made my left turn, I felt like crying because I felt like I literally helped someone that day and made an impact. 

Another time, at a book club with a few students at the library during my internship hours, I just enjoyed being with them and though there wasn't a lot to do, I really liked interacting with them. They started asking me questions, and then asked what my favorite book is. I had to think for a moment, and then knew- 'Left to Tell'. I tried to gently tell them what's it about for their 6 grade minds to comprehend. I told them (warned them rather), that its depressing (about a genocide in Rwanda), and even asked them, 'Do you know what genocide means?' And they kind of knew, but expressed to their curiosity that the way the author writes is so amazing and not so graphic or deeply triggering because its hopeful, and sheds light on her deep faith in God and forgiveness.

 They became more curious as they were finishing out their project and then I told them that it would be my last time with them. They became surprised and like an 'aww' expression overcame some of them. I didn't know what would be next...I still had a few more weeks, but I knew talking with and connecting, assisting students was my passion, and given those droplets meant everything to me, like a parched tree given water.