estrellita

Over the past 24 hours I've come to realize how much I really miss home. Although there are often references to home on xanga and in random conversations, I can't express how much more I would prefer to be bored at home than to be having fun here. There is a difference of atmosphere. The land is alive there. You can feel it beneath you. Even the ocean speaks. Everything is so alive and vibrant. Now that we have entered Fall in California the trees are starting to turn red and leaves are falling. I remember the first time I experienced fall in Potomac, Maryland. The trees looked so unhappy and sad. Although we have more evergreens here, seeing once lush trees turn into large brambles for a few months at a time is quite sad. When Spring comes around suddenly I feel livlier, happier, and fuller. I hadn't realized it before but it's due in large part to the presence of leaves on the trees. What can I say? Green makes me happy and whole.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the Brothers and Fathers at the Mother House. I miss them. Many of them are private, solitary individuals. But most of them are extreme extroverts with incredible people skills. Their joke repretoire is amazing. And best of all, they aren't afraid to hug. Yes, they give great hugs. Dinner at the House is something that can't be missed - the same priest cooks every day. He'll always announce that dinner is ready and lead us in prayer. He'll then thrust a plate into my hands and shove me toward the food. We'll all sit there talking, politicking, talking smack about the Bishop and his phony ways. Somebody will tell a story about their former classmate - an archbishop at this place, a professor at some university, or about the Fathers and Brothers who have since gone to their rest. There are few moments of genuine camaraderie like that left. Of course not everybody gets along, but in general it's a swell time. There's always ice cream to finish. Then after dinner everybody goes to bed, except me and my closest friend there.

I spoke briefly about my drives in the previous post. This priest likes those drives too. He didn't realize their value until I left for Berkeley and I wasn't around to drive any more. On skype I'll get messages like, "I miss our midnight trips to McDonald's for our french fries and ice cream cones" or "Be sure to send me some of those almond candies from San Francisco!" Those messages make me smile. I wish I were there right now, with them. They're eating dinner at this very hour, unless they've gone out for their periodic Friday treat at a restaurant in town or in the surrounding neighborhood.

Like any other family they have their problems. Many of them. People have done bad things throughout the years. And yet, I have personally only seen the greatness of their work. Two of the best priests I've ever known are of the same Order. Such selfless men filled with love for their churchgoers, can only inspire others to do likewise. We all have our gifts and burdens. Those men are no exception.

If there's one thing I treasure it's my memories. Every single one of them. From growing up in the love of my beloved family to a spontaneous trip for a burger with an amazing friend last night, every memory I possess is a testament to the wonderful people that have been set in my life. The reflection of Hunter the other day brought me back to the immediacy of childhood where I wasn't so caught up with "tomorrow". Looking back on those simpler but perhaps more difficult times, I can see that life has generally gone well. I've lost friends and family to death, to distance, and to neglect and hurt feelings. Regardless of what might've happened, I am happy to carry them with me forever. I'm afraid to lose those memories. I don't keep a journal or take many pictures any more. My greatest fear is losing the mental capacity to retain my thoughts and memories. That would kill me.

A few years ago, a famous ex-Jesuit lay dying with a brain tumor next to his wife, whom he had married only a few years earlier. He recited that beautiful prayer written by St. Ignatius of Loyola:

Take Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all that I have and possess. Thou hast given all to me. To Thee, O lord, I return it. All is Thine, dispose of it wholly according to Thy will. Give me Thy love and thy grace, for this is sufficient for me.

I don't think I have enough courage to face illness as that man did. To trust like that - that is divine.

Earlier in my faith life I was essentially unmovable. Put in Christian terms: I was on "fire". I could feel the presence of God where ever I went. I felt an internal beauty within my soul. I was so sure of the afterlife, the promise of eternal happiness with God and those who had come and gone before me. Now things are a bit more subtle. I miss that relationship with God.

But anyway...

I remember as a very small child waking up in the absurd hours of the morning to get into the car with my mom and drive to the other side of the island to watch the sugar cane burn. It was an impressive sight - at first a thin ribbon of orange, then a large blaze which spewed up tremendous amounts of smoke and ash. It was still dark at the time so it was slightly terrifying for me. We'd sit there drinking cokes and eating these candy bars called "Good News". To be honest those are one of the few memories I had with my mother growing up. Almost every time I drink coke I think about sitting there and watching those cane fires on the horizon. I miss those days.

So what am I to do? I must first and foremost remember that memories are being made today. Sometimes I decline offers from friends to hang out because I am busy reading. Quite frankly, I read constantly. I love reading. It makes me feel like I am in the presence of those thinkers. For example, today we were reading Jean Porter in class. I couldn't help but feel like she was somehow there. I suppose the trick is to recognize that there are different types of knowing. I need more feeling-knowing. Just a moment ago I got a text from Sarah. I can't think of any other friend right now that I love more than Sarah. I am not quite sure if she'd say the same thing but that's ok. She has made such an impact on my life for the better. I've never had a more vibrant, open, and honest friendship. And to think that we're separated by thousands of miles. All that to say that Sarah really gets me. She knows how I feel-know. I think she feel-knows, too. But where to find people like that? They are few and far in between. All the more reason to treasure them when they pop up in life.

I could turn inward. I could put myself in that holy place again if I really tried and just relied on grace. But I'm not looking for that either. I could turn outward. I could bring myself to constantly be around others. But I'm not looking for that either. I suppose in this situation the best answer would be balance. I need to get to Mass more often, see people that have been wanting to see me sooner. Most of all I should remember that this life is the only one I get. In that case, I should never let the memories of yesterday prevent tomorrow's memories of today.