Final Entry :(

What will I take out of this class? Well besides everything, nothing. Besides the warrior poises, the novels and the ability to connect with myself, I learned how to breathe. I have learned that finding serenity and breath in anything I do will feel like a healing remedy mixed with the poisons I have been trying to create for 17 years, and although these remedies are not yet perfected, this course helped in the creation. When i'm in the hustle and bustle of deciding what my major is, which parent I will celebrate the holidays with and which color would look best as a drop back to my photo journal, I will remember to breath until I find serenity in my soul. So thank you for teaching me the most obvious, yet underrated skill and human being has to learn, breath.

Final Project

With nine 6x6 canvases, I am going to try to portray how I have transformed from a timid, frazzled and less flexible student, yogi and thinker, into a inspired, light, and more flexible one. I am using paper to show my favorite pose I have learned this term (warrior 2). Around the pose I am using colors, shaded tones and matalics to illustrate how I began this corse and how I am ending it. I am using darker colors at the bottom and shading to lighter tones at the top of the piece. To express the closing of my thoughts and how I have learned to control my mind and body, I am placing buttons in significant spots on the piece. I am not sure exactly where I want to place them, but at some point, I hope I will see a place where they fit perfectly. I'm focusing on purple, my absolute favorite color, to express tranquility. I painted the "dark" sides of the painting in purple too to express how even in my darkest sights, I can still find a place of inspiration. I want this painting to explain how I have changed, and as I know that I may be the only one who really understands the significance of the colors, buttons, and movements, I want to portray inspiration to others, while still being content with my own.

On Death

When the soul departs, don't let it determine it's own state and don't sorrow in it's absence for with an open and honest eye, you will soon meet again. And let the death not determine where the soul may go, but let the life once lived direct it. In the day and embodiment of life, love it and when the leaves fall in the autumn, save them for you will become one too and with this acceptance comes complete liberation in the reality of life and in the reality of death. Don't let the death of another scare you from the death of yourself, for then you will be living in a bubble of protection from the world we must embrace. But to die is not to leave but rather to melt into the sun and blend with the sky. So, only when you embrace the moments of tranquillity will you become able to sing the song of life, silence the song of death, and live the song of yourself.

On Prayer

Pray when you are in deep sorrow as well as complete delight and when you are both desperate and indulged for whomever you are speaking to will not only help the needy, but the consistant. Let not your lips be the jurisdiction of your own words, but let the spirits inside you enlighten the prayer. Let the shadows of society undress the real identity of your self and let the the one you are speaking to be also the one who speak to you. You must listen in prayer. Listen to your soul and your goals. Then listen to the response. Invisible and silent it may be but with honest ears, it becomes completely present. And if no body responds, don't let it be the judge of your being but the reminder to humble your soul into the beckoning prayer. There is no way to describe the act of prayer for it must come from within the voices psyche, but when you have reached the point of return, you may continue to feel liberated in prayer and in yourself. The one you speak to cannot give you exactly what you want, but rather exactly what you need; hope and guidance from a earshot because he will listen to you..if you will listen to him.  

On Time

Time is indescribable but we try and try to force our selves into thinking the opposite and that all in good time, we will be where we desire. But when does that stop, when does time stop? If we all knew exactly when our time would end, we would recreate our morals to be more desirable to ourselves and the people around us. We would take care in arranging where things fit and when things could go right, and where things could go wrong. But ignoring the idiosyncrasy of defining time, what would be be without it? If no deadlines were set, no dynasties excited and no months were apparent, what would be the excitement of living and the thrill of never knowing when our time may come. We must use every second to our advantage, take each breath with full appreciation of breathing it, and become one with our own measures of the immeasurable. It would be easier if I knew that on December 21st 2041, my time would become instinct, but that would take the ecstasy out of life and turn it into useless pages of agenda. Life is short, so live it up or count it down.

On Friendship

Let friendship receive the best of yourself. Let her swallow your laughter, poise, your intellect and struggles.  Let her be the one who takes the time to nurture you back, and the one to make you listen, the one to make you live and the one to make you see what you might not have before. Don't let her be the shadow of your existence or let her become your shadow of your existence, but let her fall in the center, and become saturated to your being, as well as hers. Let her experience the worst, so she knows to cherish the best. Sometimes, let the silence of desire overcome you both, then let the joy of friendship absorb you once again. When you part from her, and then return, the bond becomes a stronger one for the lack of vision results in a better understanding of where your love lies. But that being said, don't let her define you...let her illuminate you.

On Self-Knowledge

The batter of the soul is like the whipping cream that tops it and the oven that bakes it. Without each ingredient of our selves, we are useless and unworthy of self appreciation. However, with all of our ingredients and all of our knowledge, our dish can be created. Without knowing who we are, our best selves can not be shared with the world for we would not know how to share them. We must embrace our negative and strive off our positive. In order to overcome complete ignorance of our minds and bodies, we must grow our intellects larger than before, we must spread wide our accomplishments and must be able to stand up with our shoulders broad and our stomachs stretched, and must, must, must, love each bone, each hair, each organ and eye, each characteristic and each soul that has been embedded in us from the start. However if you are a normal individual who is also embedded with millions of miniscule and quite frankly, personally exaggerated imperfections and insecurities, take the minutes in the day and turn them into hours of appreciation, and hours of self awareness and utter moments of erasing instinctual ideologies of yourself. It is your turn to turn off those moments of doubt and shape the person which you would like to become...all by noticing and loving your thoughts, and being absorbed by the knowledge of yourself. This is your universe. Shape it now, or someone else will.

On Reasons and Passion

Our reason and our passion are what keep us alive. And since they fall hand in hand, it is easy to forget one or the other. What we all do in life, from a giver to a receiver, must be with full awareness of the reason of doing it and the passion behind it. But as they lay hand in hand, they also contradict. For sometimes, the reason of it overpowers the passion we feel about it, and visa versa. Sometimes, our decisions become battle fields with the opponents of passion and reason where motive and judgment wages war against cravings and hunger. In order to make decisions flow with melody, the two elements must put down their weapons and mend with peace. But even without knowledge we use the two behind each thing we do, so dig inside yourself to find a remedy to create tranquility. If you cannot grab both, but only one, the decisions made will not be true to yourself for reason, by itself, becomes artificial desires, and passion, ruling alone, is an uncontrolled fire, and your soul is its oil. But if you are lucky and enlightened, you can grab both reasons and passion and nurse them together to create the out most result. Do not weigh reason over passion or passion over reason, for that will create the armed battle once again. Treat them as equals as they treat you the same. Live for passion and the reasons that surround it.






http://dragon-kiss.deviantart.com/art/Passion-Rules-Reason-92764677
     

On Pain

You must know and  love pain to teach your self to love the feeling of when it disperses. Your pain is the breaking of your own happiness and your well being. As the sun must go down and the light must die, the delight of no pain must as well. But we would not know what light is unless we experience darkness, and we would not know day if we did not know night. After you have reached your deepest internal pain, weather a broken heart or a broken bone, the only way is up. If you know this, that pain causes wellness and wellness causes pain, than your pain will not seem less desirable than your joy. This knowledge of self results in total serenity. The contrast in your darkest moments and your lightest ones is what keeps you among the normal, but to know that you can achieve both, is what keeps you yourself. Pain is self-chosen. Most of the time, the pain is not as severe as you may believe, so listen to those who can heal, and those who can remedy, for you are one yourself. Next time you feel pain, remember this: you can reach the highest of yourself, you can overcome the bitterness of your internal state, and you can choose to control the remedy of the heal and the remedy of yourself. And next time you feel no pain, remember to cherish it, for you never know when the sensation of freedom can relapse to the opposite.



Photo From: Me

Active Yoga

Thursdays yoga experience was surprisingly enjoyable. I was able to focus on myself instead of the people in the room, and for the first time in the practice, I was able to stay in difficult poses while still absorbed in my own thoughts. I felt much stronger this time, and not just in my body, but in the control I had over my own thoughts. When my mind would drift to the person next to me, I was able to quickly return to myself, and when my mind would shift to how much it bothered me to stay in down dog for X amount of seconds, I was able to quickly remember why I was doing it. The first few times we did active yoga, my focus was on the clock and the faces that surrounded me, but this time, it was about me, my thoughts, and my body. Afterwards, I felt like a new person. I felt like I was replenished and motivated to to whatever I needed to do. And although I did sweat a little bit, I almost felted cleaner then I did when we began.



http://thecollegeskinny.wordpress.com/2008/03/

On Joy and Sorrow

In order to be joyous, you must experience sorrow, for without it, there is nothing in comparison. The deeper the cut, the greater the heal, the longer the trip, the greater the time and the deeper the sorrow, the greater the joy. They are the co existence of the each other. One can not happen without the other, and one may not spout without the pester of the other. It takes some dust to have it polished, so when you are sorrow, take a step back and absorb yourself in the joy you have once encountered in order to know your state and remember the polish that is embedded in side you, then heal. When you are joyous, take that same step back, maybe even further, and express the gratitude you have to know what sorrow is, so you can be the opposite. It takes some good to make it hurt, and some bad for satisfaction, so treat them the same, for they explode from the other, and heal one another. Some will say that Joy is better, yet others would say that Sorrow is better, for one may never understand joy, until they overcome sorrow. Take the time to worship both, but never be too caught up in the spell of existence....well because life is wonderful, so let it last.

Bucket List

Write a novel
Travel the world with no agenda
Take a road trip across the country
Paint a mural
Fall in love
Skydive
Make a difference, big or small.
Get a tattoo
Learn to Surf
Sing to a crowd
Grow a garden

On Giving

The only way to give is to give yourself in the most selfless manner ever achievable. To give is to reflect in yourself the meaning of the gift and the meaning of the purpose. One who gives may never get, and one who gets may never give, but that is not alway true. One who gives may get and one who gets may give. This can be interoperated in any single way possible and it is nearly impossible to even write or comprehend, but I will try to explain the art of giving. I believe a gift is not the gift its self, but the intention behind it. The most spectacular gifts are those of anonymous givers, those who feel no need for recognition of their deed. They are the givers we cherish. To give exposure of their identity is a gift to their self within itself, but that becomes a selfish act, opposed of a selfless one. A gift is not a want, but a need. The greatest gifts are the gifts of the needed, not of the desired. It may seem the opposite, but which do you need more, the things you need, or the ones you want? Giving must be selfless with full intention of bettering another soul. If it is anything besides this, one would do better not giving at all.

On Children

Children are the essence of existence and the electricity in our bones that charge the spirits within. They breath their own breath and drum to their own beat. Children come from us, however, do not become us. We become ourselves through growing out of the children we once were. Our mother and fathers are not our mothers and fathers and we are not their children. For those are just labels. Those people, they are the embedded psyche that we have secure in our skin, they are the soul and the balance that is needed in each spirit and the constant reminder of nature and nurture. If they do not exist on this earth any more, it does not mean that the implanted essence is not still apparent, because it is forever evident in the embodiment of their children, for they are children too. Each is a child, and each is a being, perhaps never a mother or father, but always a child. Children are always there, no matter the age of the bone. So...let your child shine, whatever that may mean to you or the child in you.

On Marriage

I believe that two who are married should be forever unified, without feeling attached in every move made and step taken. I think the way "The Prophet" explains marriage perfectly exemplifies how a successful relationship becomes one. There is something special in two people spending the rest of their lives together and to me, at this moment in my life it seems nearly impossible to wake up to the same face every morning. But with the bond that is found between two souls, it can sore. For some this is magnificent, but for others, is seems like a binding potion they regret ever drinking. The key to marriage, or any relationship, or anything in life for that matter, is balance. Two must breath the same air, yet breath separately. This goes without saying that each marriage that fails is not due to lack of balance or lack of love, for that is not always the case. but it's the successful ones that strive off of being together honored as a pair, as well as valued as individuals. 

On Love

Love is almost impossible, so once you catch it, you must be willing to let it go. Perhaps you can't let it go all the way and perhaps you feel the passionate need to hold it forever, and perhaps you may be able to throw if far, but in most cases remember that perhaps, it will tear your insides, or in others, completely mend them back together. In complete suffrage, maybe love is the only way to build back strength and hope, but in complete happiness, love will tear the newly built walls back down to the core of existence. Love will be the reasons for every sense. When you see you love, a love not in your self, not in another, but in somebody else, you feel it. When you touch love, perhaps the person you are loving, you get feelings of the darkness you never want to return too, and the feelings of the light that you never want to fade. When you taste love, the sensations of passion and the sensations of desire overwhelm the emotions of power and the emotions of strength, for weakness fulfills your bones. When you hear love, perhaps the literal word or a whisper of imagination, is seems as a facade that burst the bubble of reality and forces itself upon your heart, and upon your soul. When you feel love, in what ever sense, you know. You know how you melt into the tender pain and the worshiped desires, the willingness to flee and the willingness to bleed the emotions felt, the need to give thanks and the need to be welcomed, the need to be needed and utterly absorbed with gratitude; while sparked in the reality of separation and prayer, the reality of ecstasy, and reality of whats real. 

    

Prompt #18

It is better to do your own duty 

badly, then to perfectly do 

another's; you are safe from harm 

when you do what you should be doing. 

I believe that each person is destined to do what they must. Each soul is responsible for doing what they feel the need to do in order to unveil what they feel is needed. In order to achieve greatness, in what ever sense that may mean to the individual, one must do their own duty. The out come of the action is not important, because only the intention of the deed, the process of the deed and the personal accomplishment of the deed is relevant to the actual greatness achieved. As the Gita says, it is better to do your own duty badly, and to do another's with no flaws. The process of following the rules or your own morals is forever more powerful than doing another being's, even if your actions are an outcome of poor results. 

Prompt #16

Self-possessed, resolute, act

without any thought of results, 

open to success or failure

...... 

Pitiful are those who, acting, 

are attached to their action's fruits  

(page 55) 

I act with such intent, and I wish I didn't. With most decisions I make, either good or bad, I think of the results with full awareness of how my actions will effect me, effect others, and effect my life. I know I'm wrong to live life in the next breath instead of the one I'm breathing, but I cannot help it. I also know that it pitiful to be so absorbed by what is to come in stead of what is present. But what is there to do? How can I live in the moment, without being so attached to its results? In my innate senses I feel that laying too strongly on one option will become troublesome for my soul. So I must fine balance. I want to get out of the mind set that all I do must be magnificent, and that if it is not, I have failed. I have to let go of the extreme expectations I desire in order to eliminate utter disappointment. At the same time, however, I must embrace my knowledge of self expectation, and know that I can achieve greatness. I must embed in myself that not doing anything wont lead me anywhere. The balance is simple once I can see that all my accomplishments are rewarded on the process, not the results. Once I can make this my own, I will find that peace in myself that I deserve.

Picture From: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://library.creativecow.net/articles/wilson_tim/win-mac/balance.jpg&imgrefurl=http://library.creativecow.net/articles/wilson_tim/win-mac.php&usg=__lSp2inZzqcYyQza86J6mHVAXIKo=&h=334&w=500&sz=24&hl=en&start=0&sig2=dRi58eX_riLs8WC4F5KZtQ&zoom=1&tbnid=WECY9Djv8EMJGM:&tbnh=167&tbnw=210&ei=gEzHTKGxGIK8lQem2uC9Ag&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbalance%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1205%26bih%3D684%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C20&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=742&vpy=295&dur=221&hovh=183&hovw=275&tx=158&ty=122&oei=aEzHTMGtDYqr8AbCxMG1Dw&esq=3&page=1&ndsp=15&ved=1t:429,r:8,s:0&biw=1205&bih=684

Prompt #15

My bamboo roots and shoots are the reflection of the person I wish to be. I cannot say that I am there; for I am not even a shoot, or even a thought of a shoot, or even a thought of a thought of a shoot. As of now, I am simply trying to make my roots apparent to the world I live on. I am slowly contributing to the nutrients of the world growing and expanding in the soil I wish to call time. Once I break out of the time I am stuck in, my roots will sprout--When that will be? I cannot say. If I were even close to a shoot, I would be afraid of my own success. It sounds funny, but let me explain my humor in the fact that who I am now is probably not nearly who I will be in the future. The future for me is spending each hour of the day doing something I love. My future is the need to create something beautiful to share with the world. I want to take my soul and my talents and make an impression on anything and everything that passes me by. I don't know what that is, how that is, who that is, or when that is, but I do know this: My future and my full grown shoots will never, ever be complete, for I will grow an internal sense of intelligence and self awareness until the day I die. Until then, I will water each shoot with confidence and awareness and try to fully understand my potential on this world. I will keep my balance and my realization of my being and do my ultimate best to make my newly formed roots into a bamboo masterpiece; even if I am the only one who thinks so. 




Image From: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.terragalleria.com/images/black-white/np-tropics/hale20927-bw.jpeg&imgrefurl=http://www.terragalleria.com/black-white/parks/np-image.hale20927-bw.html&usg=__465JBbg8AA_D4FQYb0nmXqIJaFM=&h=416&w=576&sz=89&hl=en&start=0&sig2=Ih_QsxMqp5CqqdHjfD9fDQ&zoom=1&tbnid=zI9ROEbS0QILZM:&tbnh=141&tbnw=195&ei=waC0TNbCJ4P48AbWhLGPCg&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dblack%2Band%2Bwhite%2Bbamboo%2Btree%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1160%26bih%3D706%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C34&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=135&vpy=305&dur=746&hovh=191&hovw=264&tx=177&ty=79&oei=waC0TNbCJ4P48AbWhLGPCg&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:5,s:0&biw=1160&bih=706
 

Honors Prompt #4

Monday Meditation 

I promised my self one thing: “Tonight I will meditate,” I thought.  “Tonight will be like yesterday, just pay attention to you…Izzy” I sit outside on my patio made of tan bricks and cold cement. I sit up straight and do a cycle of the shoulder rotations then settle in my frame. I take a huge breath of almost nine seconds each way and then create a more repetitive beat, counting six with each inhale and exhale. A few (what it seems to be) minutes later my eyes open up with absolutely no desire. The light rain has begun to fall and my previous calmness and concerns vanish. I close my eyes again and re-focus on the purposes I had intended for this couple of minutes of silent relaxation. I start over. I begin with one, then to two, and three, four, five, six and seven, and hold and exhale with the same counts and the same devotion. I begin to enter that state I have previously explained, or tried to. The state when I do not know the difference between noises in my mind, and noises in my world and the state where I cannot notice if what I feel on my skin is real or not. I continue to breath and to count; however the numbers become bleached into my soul and I no longer can hear my internal voice. I feel the rain getting harsher and more frequent. With each drop I feel on my breaths getting deeper and more personal. My mind has become empty and I start to notice my surrounding again. The rain then lightens, and my vision does too. I flutter my eyes open expecting to have water inundate my eyeballs and it does not. Now, maybe the rain has truly lightened, or maybe I am more in touch with nature than I had though. 

Photo From: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://richardxthripp.thripp.com/files/photos/stock/source/raindrops-ss.jpg&imgrefurl=http://richardxthripp.thripp.com/2008/01/photo-raindrops/&usg=__LsI_7crl684FeyL6aUe-8Ao7jgk=&h=1728&w=2304&sz=1426&hl=en&start=24&sig2=jc0HltCNSmWPmAfzk5_thQ&zoom=1&tbnid=ikTGtzWjxSe9dM:&tbnh=130&tbnw=206&ei=vIeqTPPdNoSclgffyPH1DQ&prev=/images%3Fq%3Draindrops%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1191%26bih%3D706%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C498&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=901&vpy=221&dur=366&hovh=191&hovw=254&tx=188&ty=55&oei=soeqTJnLHIL68Ab_4qSVBw&esq=2&page=2&ndsp=24&ved=1t:429,r:5,s:24&biw=1191&bih=706

Prompt #14

Sundays Meditation 

I get out of bed, walk across the apartment, kiss my dad good morning, whack Simon in the back of the head as he watches TV, tell them not to bother me and grab a glass of water. I head back to my room, which is painted like a tan tomato. I sit on the floor—no rug this time—and tell myself that I can do this. I look at the clock: 8:56 am. My back is as straight as could be, my shoulders relaxed, and my chin flexed. I close my eyes; take a deep breath, and begin counting. “One, two, three, four, five, six, HOLD, one, two, three, four, five, six,” and repeat. This goes on and I try to get everything I can out of my mind, and when things enter with no invitation, I tell them to leave me alone, just for a moment. I watch them walk out with frustration and slowly give me the stink eye as they turn around for one last look. I then lock the doors so no more can enter, and re focus of my breaths. Without any idea or notion of time, I just sink. I sink into this state of calmness. I have nothing on my mind except numbers, which begin to fade. Then something strange happens. I begin thinking of this place and of colors, mostly blues and grays. It seems like my eyelids are an array of watercolor symphonies dropping tone with each breath. I feel this temperature change, and slowly get colder and colder. My breaths get deeper and become more apparent and my eyes flutter open with really no intention. I feel like I just woke up from a nap that lasted either forty-five seconds or forty-five days. I then look at the clock and it reads: 9:10. This is the longest meditation I have ever been able to sit through and really embrace. This is the first time I have blocked out my surroundings and watched colors surround me. This is the first time I have listened to my mind in pure silence, the first time I have touched my soul and the first time I have experienced such internal peace. I stand up and walk out my door and onto the deck that rests above the Boston Harbor. The blues now seem to make sense—considering each tone of the ocean and of the sky this morning is either a shade of grey, like slate, or a Caribbean or steel blue, a misty or muted blue, or like a blueberry, or a blue tuna and a blue bird, like blue jeans and blue angels, and like silver and the sky and the surf and then the sea breeze. I guess I touched nature this morning, but I’ll never really know for sure the reason of the colors, will I?  

Image: www.shutterstock.com 

Prompt #13

Saturday Meditation 
Today’s meditation was…a disaster. I came home exhausted, sat on my rug in my room, and closed my eyes. I used my blanket that goes on my bed as a rest for my sitting bones. I sat up straight, crossed my legs, rested my hands on the inners of my knees—palms up—and lifted my shoulders to my ears and back into place. I tried to empty my mind, repeating the word “stop” over and over again in my mind. That backfired. I think the word triggered my thoughts differently than I had intended. When I thought the word “stop,” I was speaking directly to my thoughts, to tell them to stop rolling, but my thoughts; they were talking directly to my body, forcing my bones to the desire to move. After about two minutes seconds or so my fingers started twitching, and my eyelids followed, and then my toes. “Stop” began to be things like, “what should I wear tomorrow?” or something maybe a little more sincere like, “ I cannot wait to see my dad tomorrow.” Then they began to do this...”Meditate Izzy, are you this pathetic that you cannot meditate?” Well, I guess I am... at least at this moment.” This momentum continued to excel. It was now about three, maybe four minutes in, and my eyes were begging me to open. I held them tight then shifted my thoughts to the force that I was laying on my lids. And right when I was in that un-explainable state of the un-explainable, I hear footsteps getting louder and louder and then Simon, my little brother, walked in and laughed…”freak.” That encounter, well it pretty much sums it up as a whole. I tried to ignore the sounds and refocus on the meditation. Then I hear another voice and more voices and more and more voices. I cannot tell you if they were real or not, but they were there, surrounding each breath. I opened my eyes, and signed with hopelessness. “Tomorrow, Izzy, tomorrow.  (Note to self: make a “Meditation in Progress” sign for my door...ASAP)

Image:http://www.google.com/imgre.imgurl=http://www.30daysofhealthandwellbeing.com.au/images/hw10/event/meditation.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.30daysofhealthandwellbeing.com.au/meditation-morning.htm&usg=__158RabAtiwxdfTmViN8Nohx1qg=&h=304&w=457&sz=83&hl=en&start=0&sig2=YBUvOrUiUHr3LM4eW8A0wQ&zoom=1&tbnid=V0jECZg4_ptwM:&tbnh=119&tbnw=181&ei=qbOoTMfBD8OqlAf01ISjDg&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dmeditation%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1191%26bih%3D706%26tbs%3Disch:1&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=121&vpy=112&dur=500&hovh=183&hovw=275&tx=190&ty=100&oei=c7OoTMnCMsL58AaR-sGiDA&esq=18&page=1&ndsp=27&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0

Prompt #12

I wish I could say what I am. Perhaps it is the fear of failure or the fear of the doubt that has strapped me down all these years. Maybe it is in each relationship that has failed or excelled that is pushing me away from the fears and doubts that I am so afraid of. Or maybe, just maybe, it is in myself in which I cannot find the power to overcome. But myself is no longer filled with doubts and fears. I have passed the phase of complete ignorance to my brilliance. Now, I am just full of wishes.

I wish I could untangle myself. I wish I could love myself to let others love me back deeper than the initial love itself. I wish I could write, and paint, and draw, and create the way I would like to. I wish I could be the best and dream the best, and see the best, and find the best, gain the best, and live the best. I wish I were better than you. I wish I could see the presence within myself. I wish my wishes would stop and I could learn to be me, without wishing for it to come true. 

So I will stop the vicious cycle of wishing. I will show through my talents that I can become all those wishes--one by one, I will concur. One day at a time, I will steel my wish from my mind and dissect it until I can believe that I am the greatest I can be. To you, I may seem less or better, or worse, or great, or dumb and ugly or big or tall, smart and nice and funny and present. Or I may just be who I am. A bucket of wishes dying to come true, a soul of the plentiful, waiting to escape from expectation. I am the own rescuer to my so-called desires. I am the full responsibility of my own being and I can only create myself in a way I wish to see myself. 

Prompt #11

Behavioral Samskaras: 

1) Absorbing stress very easily (-)

2) Listen to music..every moment I can (+)

3) Letting "things" go (+) 

4) Approaching my art work with a pre-determined negative view. (-)

5) Wearing my prayer bracelet, through everything I do.  

6) Not being able to sleep if my room is a mess. (neither) 

7) Falling asleep to Norah Jones (+)

8) Driving through park on the way to Lydia or Emma. (+) 

9) The NEED for Starbucks in the AM (-)

10) Forgetting to relax (-) 

11) Coloring and watching Friends (+) 

Thought Samskaras: 

1) Not getting into college (-) (-) (-)

2) I should be ______ and ______ (-) 

          (blanks change  constantly)

 3) I cannot wait for Winter (-)

 4) I will never be ready to leave home (-)

 5) Why cant I be a better artist? (-)

 6) It's all going to work out in the end (+) 

Prompt #9

 

India vs. Indonesia : The differences 

In India, Elizabeth Gilbert has hope. Excluding the frustration during some meditation practices, her inspiration to become a happier person is still apparent. Her tone continues to be a positive one while she begins to accept the matter of her upset, however, still inhales a negative conduct. Let me explain: Elizabeth Gilbert has had this mentality throughout the novel. Her awakened and acknowledged state of mind clashes with her hopeful and passionate aspiration to heal. A step of this process was accepting the relationships with her two men back in the United States. Gilbert writes " I invited my ex-husband to please join me on this rooftop in India. I asked him if her would be kind enough to meet me up here for this farewell event. Then I waited until I felt him arrive. And he did arrive...."(186)

This clash is presented in each chapter, and as a mater of fact, each page. But as we enter Indonesia, this tone shifts. The two sides of the clash begin to work together for the better. Each aspect becomes balance and the awareness of heeling is embraced. Elizabeth Gilbert learns more about her self if these 116 pages than she does in both Italy and India. She uses her spirit and her gifts to learn that helping others is just as important as helping herself. Through the medicine man, she learns the act of healing. She has found a balance that blows through the words on the pages. Her passions become stronger and her happiness flies through the roof. This is the result of her spiritual awakening. Her tone from the beginning of the novel to the end has changed greatly. She has learned who she is and what she is meant to become in life, she has embraced the misfortunes of her relationships and learned to let go, and lastly, she has learned that she is her own leader, and in order to change, she must find it within her self. Elizabeth Gilbert was in a liminal state while in India. She was between an awakening and a healing process. The result would be Indonesia and what she could do with her new being, but she had to get through the four months of frustration and devotion in India to get that pot of gold.

Prompt #9

This all brings me back to the focus of yoga. What is yoga? Why is yoga? Where is yoga? Who is yoga? And so on and so fourth. And then I think about the pages I just read and what connects this idea of internal stability to the words of Ketut Liyer. With out thinking to deeply, I notice a universal center connected by Elizabeth Gilbert and The Medicine Man, which in my opinion, is absolutely brilliant. The center is of this: Take each element in your body, each chakrah, the head, the face, the throat, the chest (or heart), the navel, the lower abdomen, and the spine, then connect it to what Elizabeth Gilbert received two years ago on her yoga tour, this idea of combining each element into one, to become one, to love one and to believe in one: "So I describe the picture [Ketut Liyer] made for me, the figure with the four legs ("so grounded on earth") and the missing head ("not looking at the world through intellect") and the face in the heart ("looking at the world through the heart")." (Gilbert 222) The picture describes full awareness of thought and full awareness of placement in the world, to have your feet planted, your mind slightly astray and your heart fully present. And in my ammeter experiences of yoga, I believe these are the hopes. The goal is to gain all of these.. lets call them "powers." The power to get your fleet solid on the ground, so strong it seems you have four legs and four feet, four foundations. (This explains the positions of yoga and the strength needed to gather utter most balance.) Next, the power to shift your mind away from the clock, away from the people around you and away from your troubles and worries. To gain a full yoga experience, one must learn to control their mind and their thoughts and to block out the negative and embrace the positive. The next power is to learn the control of your heart. I will not lie, this is a difficult task, so difficult it seems almost impossible. However, the goal here is to look at the world with the heart, not the mind. That is pretty self explanatory because it will be so completely and almost stupidly different for each soul on this planet that explaining it will just be too difficult. But lets answer the first questions. What is Yoga? Why is yoga? Where is yoga? Who is yoga? And so on and so fourth. I think the painting made by the oh so glorious Medicine Man given to the used to be oh so miserable Elizabeth Gilber pretty much sums it up as a "let me be one within myself as a powerful soul and let me embrace the remarks of my mind and contrast with the remarks of my heart" concept, don't you?





                                       See you later, alligator.

Prompt #8

This is what I have learned: Everybody has the power to control their own mind and thoughts. Not only from Richard's mouth did I learn this, but from my inborn sense that because I say something is going to be okay, it will be. However, this is not the truth. And in fact, this is rarely ever the truth, but I will pretend to primely trick my self until I embrace it, smother it and love it and then it really becomes the dead on truth. Those are the three steps to utter internal peace and control. I believe that the first step in healing is to internally prove to your self that healing is even in your future, either near or far. You must embrace how you feel and how your thoughts create damage before can gather central control of both actions and intuitions. The second is to train your mind, train it to smother your current train of thoughts until they can no longer breath..then let them go and regain your strength. The third is to love them, the new thoughts that is. Love the fact that you can shift from absence of control to mind cultivation with a single awareness and a single focus. Selecting thoughts is a gift that is only gained in time. I have not yet mastered it, nor have I even begun the process of embracing it, however, the single fact that I can even write seems I am heading in the right direction. It must be done with focus and control, and if you cannot become proficient in your thoughts, you will be in constant nuisance forever. 

Prompt #7

I am sitting here in a lamp lit room, with too much caffein and way too much on my mind, thinking about a time when all I could physically and mentally do is think about something else, a time where I could not stand still and focus on something needed, and a time where my body was in one place, and my thoughts another. I am trying to remember when that time was and how I can write it in a manner I feel is most appropriate, a manner I feel is the most beautifully presented. And as I write and delete and write and delete and write and delete and delete more and more and continue, I realize that that moment is right now. I am trying to figure out what color I want my bed sheets to be in my New York University freshman dorm room, rather than my English assignment due tomorrow. But why? Why must I think about my imaginary color scheme in a college to still be determined? Why am I so obsessed with this vision on the future that I cannot sit still and write my blog about not being comfortable? Why, please tell me why, I cannot at this moment be where I am with 100 percent consideration and understanding? And then I think: "Well I love purple, and I love green, and together? Nah. Too much. What if my roommate thinks I am a barney loving freak? HA HA HA that would be hilarious, and sadly depressing. Moving on. English Homework." I am sitting here driving my self crazy, now thinking way too hard about something that should be as simple as the alphabet (which now that I think about, is not all that simple after all, since it creates the language I speak). I am noticing that thinking so deeply about these words I am typing is making it even harder to concentrate. How about this, I ask my self. How about you stop typing, think about where you are and what you are doing, and be here, be here where you really are, not at NYU or Pottery Barn, not in your futuristic life in a futuristic college with futuristic bed duvets. Then I come back to surface noticing my breaths and my objective of tonight, and that is to write about a time where I cannot be where I actually am.  And, well, you just read it. 

I am sitting here in a lamp lit room, with too much caffein and way too much on my mind, thinking about a time when all I could physically and mentally do is think about something else, a time where I could not stand still and focus on something needed, and a time where my body was in one place, and my thoughts another. I am trying to remember when that time was and how I can write it in a manner I feel is most appropriate, a manner I feel is the most beautifully presented. And as I write and delete and write and delete and write and delete and delete more and more and continue, I realize that that moment is right now. I am trying to figure out what color I want my bed sheets to be in my New York University freshman dorm room, rather than my English assignment due tomorrow. But why? Why must I think about my imaginary color scheme in a college to still be determined? Why am I so obsessed with this vision on the future that I cannot sit still and write my blog about not being comfortable? Why, please tell me why, I cannot at this moment be where I am with 100 percent consideration and understanding? And then I think: "Well I love purple, and I love green, and together? Nah. Too much. What if my roommate thinks I am a barney loving freak? HA HA HA that would be hilarious, and sadly depressing. Moving on. English Homework." I am sitting here driving my self crazy, now thinking way too hard about something that should be as simple as the alphabet (which now that I think about, is not all that simple after all, since it creates the language I speak). I am noticing that thinking so deeply about these words I am typing is making it even harder to concentrate. How about this, I ask my self. How about you stop typing, think about where you are and what you are doing, and be here, be here where you really are, not at NYU or Pottery Barn, not in your futuristic life in a futuristic college with futuristic bed duvets. Then I come back to surface noticing my breaths and my objective of tonight, and that is to write about a time where I cannot be where I actually am.  And, well, you just read it. 

Prompt #6

Soul mates are a funny thing, especially when you pick apart the word into two and picture in your mind what they would mean, or do for that mater. But, excusing my indiosicrocy of dissecting words into pieces, I would like to share with you this. I believe, in my immature yet innate sense, that ONE soul mate does not exist. Perhaps there are people on this earth (As Richard from Texas explains) that enter our lives, show us what we're missing, smack our doubts away, kill our insecurities, and then leave us alone to fight our own battles. But I think is is even simpler. Maybe our soul mates are the people we live for, like our children or loved ones. Maybe our soul mates are those who teach us how to grow and teach us how to live. Maybe they are un-announced and unrecognized, like the man who made your latte this morning, or the person who held the door, the woman that called you sweetie, the child that smiled in response to yours. Or maybe, just maybe, they are a romantic partner, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, wife, husband, first kiss, first love, first what ever else. Maybe, we are our own soul mates who can mirror our own weaknesses and force ourselves to act upon a healing melody. Richard mentions that a soul mate acts as a mirror to show everything that is holding one back from experiencing something special. In Elizabeth Gilbert's case, her soul mate was David, who was only in her life to teach her to go live her life, not stay back and wait for results. David was present to force Elizabeth Gilbert out of her marriage and onto a plane of self discovery, both literally, and figuratively speaking. Personally, I believe that everything happens for a reason. People fly in and out of my life like an array of sparrows, some with a negative agenda and some with real and pure intention and let me tell you something, some of those sparrows can be real tough to deal with. However, I think that each person that has flown into my life for what ever reason has had a purpose to teach me something new, to make me hunt for change or inspiration and unlock the door to the walls that hold me back in whatever I may believe in. But as I think deeper and deeper into the definition of a soul mate, I come to realize that there is no single one interpretation. I believe that there are several soul mates for several occasions and several beings. Each soul is different, but we all know that and each soul is pure, and again we all know that, but does any one soul match, or mate, with another?

Honors Prompt #3

Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing methods are like breath of fresh air. They are like a comic relief of the so-called trauma each individual is destined to go through. They are like hammers and drills and wrenches, screwdrivers and scrapers and staple guns, and nuts and bolts and measuring tapes, saws, and pliers and pipes and powered polishers.  They are like a family of personalities and a family of brilliant scholars and doctors and lawyers and chefs. And like a pallet of watercolors painting each page with a new soul and a new characteristic, a new dream and a new message, and a new (and improved) story to tell. Figuratively speaking, each appliance or family member or watercolor or soul is a tool: “aka” a writing technique that supposedly is used to make things more interesting  (perhaps, without great intention, less) for purposes of not completely boring the reader to death. However when a good writer uses these tools or methods correctly, like Elizabeth Gilbert does, a story is transformed from being written, to being told. Let me explain further. Excusing the obvious uses of personification and similes and the in body conversations, (which, just for your information, are used so beautifully by Elizabeth Gilbert, I want to cry) the one tool that seems now in retrospect, a completely and unbelievably underrated and simple concept is this: Casualty. With the goal to speak to her readers, Gilbert has used this idea of casualty to portray her messages through her stories. The tone behind each word in this text gives the reader, in this case me, a genuine focus. Her focus is to single me out as an individual and speak to me as if she and I are sitting in coffee shop like two old friends, telling her story with intense emotion and intense intention to poke the hell out of me until I find in my self something to relate too. Some relatable spark that will then force me to not only sympathize to Gilbert but to myself and my own broken alter ego and conscience. I believe that this is the key to unlocking a reader’s attention. When a writer can make each chapter, each sentence, and each fragment and word relatable, a reader is naturally drawn to it. The honest truth is that we are rarely able to admit to our own vulnerabilities and insecurities; so reading about somebody else’s is just easier. That is why this novel is a best seller. It is that simple. We want to read about other people’s struggles to vicariously through the text, re assure our own. People read this because Gilbert is not talking to her readers; she is talking to each one of us, individually. So I will steel this. I am going to steal the technique of casualty and call it my own. Well because, that’s how writers become writers, we steal. 

Prompt #5

Yoga is something special, something beautiful and challenging, artistically and emotionally exhausting, yet completely soothing. My experience today was all of the above. With pure awareness, I thought yoga was lets say, easy, and I didn't realize that it is in fact the opposite until I was upside down, my back in a triangle and my untied hair sweeping the sweat off my mat and inundating my breaths and vision. When we stepped into lunges from downward dog, I was already exhausted and defeated. My mind was questioning: "why the hell would anybody want to do this?" Then I said: " Why the hell would anybody want to do this?" But when we stepped into warrior, I answered my own question (in silence of course). People do yoga to not only do yoga, but to find inner stability and inspiration. I, at some point in this pose, felt complete meditation. (Mind you I was in a pelvic open, legs spread, arms up type of position) I stared at my middle fingernail and calmness surrounded my being, however after about 10 seconds, I asked myself again the same original question. My legs were burning and my mind was too. I found myself staring at the clock instead of at my fingers, and my so called "meditation" was lost. It was then announced to lay back into child's pose, and then my original question, the "why the hell would anybody want to do this?" question, was re-answered.."aww, thats why" I said to myself. We then returned to Savasana, and my answer was even further reinforced. My most meditative state was in this position. The act of "not thinking" was, at first, a challenge, but after doing in several times, it has become much easier. I do think (or hope) that it will be the same from yoga. And like everything great, it will take time. 

Honors Prompt #2

I had the strangest, yet most powerful experience today during meditation. I felt something so peculiar and to be honest, a bit creepy that sharing will be hard to do. I will try to explain: When I laid on my back with the blanket wrapped around my stomach, I was expecting to have my mind automatically flood with uncompleted tasks from the day and the day before that, and the day before that, but it didn't. The reasons why, I cannot explain without sounding like a insane being, but again, I will try. My thoughts heading into the meditation seemed altered than the days previous to today. I laid down with complete intention to meditate, relax, and spiritually unroll, and that my friends, is exactly what happened. I have no recollection of time or judgment, but at some point during the meditation, my energy shifted. It shifted so far that I felt as if I were sleeping, but so aware all at the same time. Usually in sleep, I have no conception of my surroundings, I cannot hear things, nor can I even notice that I am sleeping. When I am awake, I am aware and for the most part, attentive and conscience of my own being. The state I acquired today, however, was a complete mix of the two. I knew I was meditating and knew where I was and what I was doing, but I fell so deep into my being and into my own soul, that it felt like I was sleeping. It was almost, sort of in a way, an outer body experience. Now, I was not floating, transparent in the sky looking upon my self in my 12th grade English class, but I felt so one with myself that I also felt so unconnected at the same moment. It was, lets say, one of the most bizarre and completely illogical, yet completely sensual and natural and spiritual, as well as a spine tingling, hair raising and eye opening moment. All in one, I cannot explain why, how, who, what, when or where, but it was all that, and more.

Honors Prompt #1

At this point in the novel, Elizabeth Gilbert has used many techniques to further explain her memories to her readers. Rather than just telling the story, Gilbert shows us the story and lets us feel it for ourselves. She does this by using and experimenting with a variety of styles and methods. The most obvious and apparent technique, to me, is personification. For example, "Depression and Loneliness track me down after about ten days in Italy...." (46, Gilbert). With great intention, Gilbert has transformed the feelings of depression and loneliness into human beings and in fact, as she relates to them, detectives. "Depression on my left, Loneliness on my right." (47, Gilbert) Gilbert's use of placement is one of the main hints that she personally relates the two to people, not feelings. Continuing with the idea of personification and giving objects, or in this case feelings, real characteristics is greatly recognized through out the chapter. The use of personification not only shows the reader how passionately these feelings have followed her across seas, but it demonstrates Gilbert's creative, personable, and amusing writing style. Moreover, I have come to realize that the use of personification in ones writing makes the reader, in this case me, feel so connected to the author. Let me explain further. Everybody, at one point in our hectic lives, has felt both feelings, but have we recognized them as our own? With carful consideration of capitalization (Depression and Loneliness), Gilbert has made me so conscious of both feelings, as if they are so real, and feel so present like human beings do. She continues in this rather short chapter with a complete use of personification. It is as if she gives each feeling a soul, a purpose, a mind, characteristics, etc. And in fact, she does, yet more indirectly:

"I say to them, 'How did you find me here? Who told you I had come to rome?'

'Depression, always the wise guy, says 'What--you're not happy to see us?' 

'Go away,' I tell him.' 

'Loneliness, the more sensitive cop, says, 'I'm sorry ma'am. But I might have to tail you the whole time you're traveling. It's my assignment.'

'I'd really rather you didn't,' I tell him, and he shrugs almost apologetically, but only moves closer" 

In this short conversation between the three, the emotions behind the emotions that Gilbert feels, or felt, are vicariously shown through the rather clever dialect of both characters. Her true relationship with Depression (I will capitalize as I wish), is apparent with his arrogant and, for lack of a better word, wise-ass response. That being said, her relationship with Loneliness, is a little bit more endearing. This is better proclaimed in the last sentence of the chapter. "Loneliness watches and sighs, then climbs into my bed and pulls the covers over himself, fully dressed, shoes and all. He's going to make me sleep with him again tonight, I just know it." (48, Gilbert) The tone in these few sentences is an apparent shift in emotion. Gilbert's thoughts seems more genuine, or even yet another sign of internal vulnerability. Without directly stating her response to the presence of both Depression and Loneliness, Gilbert uses personification, as well as dialect, to illustrate her rather ambivalent feelings toward both personalities. 

Another evident strategy to further enforce the author’s message is the use of metaphors and similes. Gilbert does not use these methods a whole lot in this chapter, but she definitely includes a few here and there to support her intentions. "{Loneliness and Depression} come upon me all silent and menacing like Pinkerton Detectives" (46, Gilbert) The purpose of this comparison is to go even deeper in the personification of the two emotions. The constant reference to this same idea of personification only strengthens the method and paints the image of both Depression and Loneliness as two individual human beings, and nothing less.

In the middle of the chapter, Gilbert begins to explain specific examples of the questions she is interrogated with. "He asks is I have any reason to be happy that I know of. He asks why I am all by myself tonight, yet again. He asks (though we've been through this line of questioning hundreds of times already) why I can't keep a relationship going, why I ruined my marriage, why I messed things up with David, why I messed things up with every man I've ever been with....." (47, Gilbert) This part of the chapter, I believe, is the most revealing. Let me break it down. This novel is about self discovery, and every single person who jumps into it, even with no previous knowledge, can grasp that concept by simply reading the cursive at the bottom on the front cover. However, up until now, all we as readers have read, is nothing about Gilbert finding herself, and truth be told, it still isn't. But not until now have we even seen traces sincere acknowledgment of the real purpose Elizabeth Gilbert is even in Italy. Figuratively speaking, we all want the personification of both Depression and Loneliness to jump out of the page and into our hearts and our minds and even our souls, soak up out doubts, smoke the cigars of self-discovery, mold to our own personalities and aspirations and ask us the same damn questions Elizabeth Gilbert was asked that night, on the stroll back to her roman home, well because, we cant seem to admit it our selves. Gilbert is just one in the same. Honest with herself, she knows that admitting her downfalls is the first step to her spiritual, and therefore, literal recovery, and this method of forcing out her own realizations into somebody else's mouth, is what her true and sincere objective is, or was. The personification of her two most pronounced emotions on that very day has given the reader, me, a more vulnerable and honest, yet completely indirect, image of her own self, and in writing it, has given her the same. This chapter defines Gilbert's purpose. Let me repeat that. This chapter defines Gilbert's purpose. 

Side Note: When I read this, my mind stood up and slapped herself in the face. Why? Well because, it is really simple. The feelings are so relevant and apparent, maybe not to the extremes or for the same reasons, but oh, they are there. Trust me. I must admit my vulnerability in reading this novel and acknowledge it too, and I am, I think. My mind has sat back down and is now icing her cheek bones and busted lip, but she deserved a little slap, just to wake up and realize that maybe, I even need two emotional personalities to tell me what the hell I am destined to do next, don't you?

Prompt #4

I covered my window with a sheet tonight to prevent distraction while I try to sow my mind shut with threads and threads of closing thoughts and prayers. My mind is a like a bingo-ball-roller. She spins and spins until something comes out. Then she matches it to something else, then that thought is over. Then she spins again and again until something else comes out. Then she matches is to something else, then the thought is over again, and the cycle continues. She does this every night. It is probably because my mind likes to trick and manipulate me, and slap me in the face and poke my brains until I can become content with all my thoughts. I am well aware of her best intentions, however, her ways of approaching them need a little, for lack of a better word, coaching. What she doesn't realize is that complete happiness will take time, and will not be healed in a night, but she doesn't care, well because, my mind, she's actually quite the bitch. That being said, my nights, they usually go a little something like this:

Me: (inhale..exhale) Let's go to bed. Is that alright? 

Mind: Oh, yes. Absolutely. It has been a long day. 

Me: You can say that again. 

Mind: It has been a long day. 

Me: No, not literally, I was agreeing with you. Lets just sleep, please?

Mind: Oh yes, I forgot. Sorry. 

Me: Finally. 

(Just a few moments of silence) 

Mind: I wonder where dad is right now. Ya think he's doing alright? Maybe we should call. 

Me: "No Response" 

Mind: Sorry, Sorry, lets go to bed. 

Me: Yeah, he's alright, I think. Let's call tomorrow. I bet he is sleeping. 

Mind: No! Its pretty early, and if he is out of the county it is even earlier. 

Me: It depends on what country is it, it could be earlier, could be later. And is he? Out of the country that is. 

Mind: He didn't tell me. 

Me: He would have said something, obviously.

Mind: Yeah, you're probably right. Night. 

Me: Goodnight. 

Mind: I think you're right. You know about, what's that called?

Me: Timezones? 

Mind: Yes, those things. What time is it is Turkey? Is he there? He was there a few weeks ago, right?

Me: I dont remember, we will call tomorrow. Can we please, just focus on sleeping.

Mind: Yes. 

(Just a few moments of silence..and my thoughts fade) 

Mind: Did you ever call the car insurance people back? They have been riding us like a bull. "Do this, do that, call me then, call me now, send an email, send a claim, and blah blah blah." You think they would get the memo to shut the hell up already, huh?

Me: Oh, yeah. I need to call them tomorrow, remind me to call tomorrow. You promise? 

Mind: Promise. 

Me: Thanks. (Inhale.Exhale.Repeat) 

(Some more silence) 

Mind: Wouldn't it be scary if there was a strange man staring in your window right now? 

Me: Why would you even bring that up? 

Mind: I don't know what else to think about. 

Me: How about falling asleep. 

Mind: Oh yes, happy thoughts. 

Me: Now I am scared. 

Mind: Of what?

Me: Of what? Of a man, staring into my window, plotting ways to take me away and steel my identity and take all my belongings and kill my...

Mind: Stop! Stop! don't think about that! It would never happen. Are you crazy? 

Me: Are you? you brought it up, not me. 

Mind: Sorry, are you angry? I am just trying to help you sleep. 

Me: Just shut up, you are not helping. And you are right, it would never happen. 

(The last interrupted silence) 

Mind: You are sitting on your bed, with roses, and bunnies, and all the things you love. 

Me: okay. 

Mind: Now, am I helping? 

Me: sureeeeee. (slurred due to complete exhaustion) 

Mind: Yes, okay, goodnight. I will not speak again. I promise. Just one last thing, okay?

Me: Quickly. 

Mind: Everything is going to be alright, you hear me? Everything will work out. I can promise you that all your stress is going to fade as these months grow older. Each episode of upset will always end with something great. You hear me? You are the most wonderful person I know. I love you, Izz. 

Me: Love you too...

My last internal Prayer: Dear you, please let all of the people I love, be happy, healthy and safe. Please let all of my fathers flights take off, travel and land safely. Please let me, be me.

Prompt #3

I thought that I was already at a balanced and peaceful state until the moment I turned on my side and felt all my energy shift like empty barrels on the back of a pick up truck hitting a turn, a slight one in that, but still a turn. Each barrel slid over one by one as the turn progressed and hit each other, but softly, like it was in slow motion. Then they took a rest as the roll did. At one side of the truck was a pressured bundle of barrels. The other was empty, jealous of the concentration on the other side of the truck. Then the turn straightened out and half of the barrels, one by one, slid to the other side, creating a balance more powerful than one would think. I then stood up and reached gravity, each barrel of energy rested in a certain place in my body. Two in my legs, one at my abdomen, two at my heart, two in my arms, one in my throat and one in my head. Each barrel resting quietly, balanced and content in their positions. A complete representation of my insides out, well at the moment at least.

Prompt #2

Jumping into the book, I thought it was going to be horrible. These were not my own opinions, obviously, but rather those of others. I heard that the book was bad, and the movie was worse. So, naturally, I thought to myself as I was reading the introduction that this was just another novel about a woman trying to discover her self though certain adventures, and in this case travel and eating and prayer and love. And it is. But as I got going I started feeling what the Gilbert did before her travels and during. I dug deeper into the text to only find out that, in my opinion, it was less of a journey of "self discovery" but more of the escape from her internal pain and self doubt and just a pinch of  her insecure relations with everybody surrounding her. As I read deeper and thought deeper, my vision of the novel suddenly changed from a story about eating, praying and loving, to a book of pleasure, escape, and healing. All senses humans feel, yet some are afraid to admit to. I personally think that Gilbert is getting pleasure, a feeling that was astray in her life back in NY, from her breakfast, lunch and diner. Escape is the praying. Praying is a detailed practice that lets us, the universe of humans, escape from our lives and look upon them from above. And lastly, the feeling of healing from love. In her "old life", Gilbert experienced such emotionally harmful relationships with both her husband and David, so her travels was not only a trip of discovery, but a trip of healing from her wounds previously acquired. Gilbert's writing style is extremely relatable, cynical yet very casual. I love the part where Gilbert writes: "Go back to bed Liz." (16) over and over and over again. In these lines she is slightly admitting her venerability while still acknowledging that something had to change in her life in order to feel happy again, and the first step for her, was going to bed. I can completely relate to the feeling of being so emotionally drained, that the only thing possibly left to do is just sleep and sleep and sleep. And I think a lot of people can as well. So, in conclusion, I am really enjoying the novel. I feel compelled to write even more, however I will stop for now, and I will continue reading.

Prompt #1

Every class I have ever taken has been very safe, and to me, learning should be the complete opposite. The normal black and white class has not yet pushed me to open up and share who I am and what I expect in my own life, yet alone my own self. I hope this course will be the first to do so. My true expectations are not yet completely decided but I do know two things. One, I need this course to push me in whichever direction I need to be pushed in to learn as much as possible and to gain a better understanding of whatever we jump into. And two, to point out the obvious, I need  this course to relax and to help me accept the college process and learn to breath though the stress, letting what is meant to happen, happen. Lastly I want to explore the world of literature, to go outside the box, and to do lots and lots of meditation.