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. 

To Brazil

 I was thinking upon the answered prayers of studying abroad back in college. It was not the 'typical' studying abroad experience where it lasted for a semester or a school year, but it was a requirement for my major and so I was looking for what could suffice. It was pretty scary for me to plan a foreign study abroad trip without a lot of support from my university. At first, I was thinking I would go to Taiwan since that could be applicable to my studies with Chinese, and there was practicing Catholicism in the capital of Taipei.

 But yet again, I felt such lack of support and my passion and drive for the Chinese language felt so isolating from other classmates in my language class (the number of students increasingly became smaller as the semesters progressed), and I felt like I was the only one (who was not Chinese) who was interested in furthering my language studies as well as minoring in it. Ultimately, there were a lot of unknowns about the program, and it didn't fully carry over (my college was on quarter system and there's was semester). 

I became to feel desperate and discouraged. They made it hard to do an experience that wasn't internationally based as well as less desirable. I distinctly remember meeting with my major advisor (who was temporarily filling in for the main one). And he was really pushing for an international study abroad experience when I asked him questions. It was clear it was a lot of paperwork to do the other route- find an internship or other like experience that was 'loosely international', which also meant a lot of meetings with your advisor, which I could tell he did not want to do. And admittedly, I didn't really want to do either.

While meeting with him, I saw in his office a big map of the world with so many tacks placed about various countries and regions. I could tell he loved to travel and had been to so many places. I also knew by his accent and cultural expression he was British and also quite blunt and frank. I came away from that meeting feeling less encouraged, and not all my questions fully answered, nor my deeper feelings of uncertainty cultivated by careful and helpful support. 

I started to enter more into prayer about it, really questioning God and asking Him to fill in the gaps, and this big requirement that didn't feel so simple or enjoyable to figure out. I was so hesitant to continue with my plan for Asia, and primarily China because of Communism and also not being able to practice my faith. I remember telling my Mandarin teacher this, or Lu Laoshi as we called her. China in some ways seemed only a little more desirable than Taiwan due to the language. Taiwan used a traditional character writing system that I wasn't learning in my classes- so more room for barrier there. 

I wrote down all my fears, thoughts, questions in my prayer journal. I intently prayed about it during daily Masses and adoration. It mostly felt all consuming I remember, and it was a stressful time. 

It was at some point where I got a notification through my school email about an opportunity to go to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in the summer for 2 weeks. It correlated and applied to Sociology students, but I also saw a big correlation to my major and what I had been thinking and praying about for a while! I immediately jumped at the chance and attended an info session at my school. It was also a bit competitive- they could only take around 19 or 20 students max, and that classroom was full! Everyone wanted to go.  I was hoping I had a chance to go. Brazil would be cool (I had only slightly thought of attending WYD in Brazil in 2010, I think), it's a Catholic country, but mostly because I just needed to check of this graduation requirement. 

I also had to write a letter to the Prof coordinating the trip about why I would be a good person to pick. I thought of every reason I could think of that would stand out- the fact that I know how to be in a group setting (coming from a big family), am responsible and easy-going person, etc. 

After that, I waited. I wasn't sure what would happen but knew that God would pull through. 

I started to become unsure, and thinking what if I didn't get picked? Then what? So, I looked at other summer programs- that weren't super long but could still count. I looked at a summer program in China and read about other's experiences with a particular program, and teaching and volunteering (it seemed more service oriented). I was thinking, maybe I could do that. It's just for a short summer session after all.

So, I started to fill out the application, but as I was going to do just that was when I heard back from the Rio program affiliated with my university. I saw that I was accepted! I couldn't believe it!! I was so relieved, and grateful my prayers were answered, and I had something that could fill this requirement- and it would also be my first time abroad, so I would need to get a passport. I also recognized the dates, and I would be there for my 24th birthday.

Strong Woman

 

Strong Woman. When I saw this shirt while shopping about a year ago, I thought it was cute, but then I realized the size was too large. But I still took a picture. It reminded me of a saying, 'strong woman', sort of generic but meaningful enough. Or emulating who I want to be, a 'strong woman'. 

But looking back, I can think of countless strong women who fit into this definition.

I first think of my Mom, who is so fearlessly strong in who she is, and what she is about. All that she had to go through and endure last Fall with your surgeries for skin cancer was brutal, challenging, crushing for her. I could see the pain in her eyes for all that she was enduring. But she was still holding and remaining strong. She didn't like to dwell or talk about it, and clung to the cross and her faith to pull her through on the hardest and darkest of days.

I think of my dear sister, with the constant demands of motherhood, of own suffering moments, mixed in with the lightness and joys. Her demeanor to fight for and see the good, the blessings, graces even when it's hard. Her love for baking, writing, possibilities and decorating are inspiring and are what keeps her mind light and full, as well and giving to her children. Her listening ear gives solace to the downtrodden. 

I also think of my other sisters, in their virtue, motherhood, gifts and mission.

The confirmation leader the minute I met her, I knew she was a strong leader and woman. She was passionate about her faith, bold and determined. Her sufferings or hardships of the past she would bring up and mention from time to time as examples for the topics but somehow I felt she was able to rise above it. Maybe her choleric tendencies and boldness were what endured, as well as her mission for teaching and sharing her faith. 

When I think of strong women, I immediately thought of the camp video my sister showed me from almost 2 decades ago (!) with all the counselors singing and having a good time into the early morning of the last cusp of the week. It brought back so much nostalgia. I looked up to all of them as a camper, and some of them included my sisters too. They all seemed (and were) so grown up, cool, beautiful, fun, smart, etc. and so forth. Strong, faithful woman they were, and even looking back, I know it to be true since they were such good role models, even if I didn't have every one of them as a counselor, I noticed, I watched, and was impacted by their example and character. 

My sister recently told me I am strong. Sometimes I do not always think so- maybe I'm too hard on myself, idealistic or just put it aside and focus on the hard. But I know God gives me, gives us specific graces for the moment and what we can handle. Our struggle makes us strong with God's graces. 

Strong women I also admire- Our Lady and the saints. 

Inspired by Flowers

 As I was looking for some inspiration at the craft store, I was realizing how important projects, creativity are to me in order to feel like myself. It's something that I don't necessarily have to think about when its present, but when its absent it feels like a void and like I'm trying to catch up to it, like a child running on the playground, becoming far away or hidden from me. 

And so, I took a photo of these flowers to remind me if something deeper. The Kingdom of Heaven, and the beauty of God's creation is all around, even when I'm simply uninspired, in a rut. It reminded me of Ignacio, basking in God's presence with flowers all around him. And to be inspired and enlightened by that truth.