A Visit to Marblehead

Marblehead in winter

Because of school and life commitments, I wasn't able to see M for almost 2 months. When he was scheduled to visit last weekend, I knew that it would make our reunion all the more special if we went away for a little adventure. We found ourselves in Marblehead, MA, a little coastal village filled with colonial homes and a quiet charm that soothes a weary soul. While chilly, our time in Marblehead was so lovely - strolls down quiet streets, delicious seafood at a local pub, walks along the rocky edge of the coastline where waves of the most brilliant green-blue crash against dark, jagged rocks. The violent pulchritude of a New England sea. There's something utterly spiritual about walking by the ocean in late March.

A charming property

View from Crocker Park in Marblehead

Castle Rock on Marblehead Neck

 Photo credit: Emily Bowen

Betwixt

Pretty late-summer blooms in a Alexandria, VA garden

 I'm there again. Planning the next phase of my life after graduation in May (the downside of a one-year Master's program). The never-ending "next phase" that has become a particular hallmark of my generation. Never satisfied. Always moving on to find the "right place" to be. I know for certain that I do not want to be where I am now but that only serves to eliminate one place. I could go northward to Maine or south and once more to Washington, DC. These two places seem to be the strongest contenders and so very different in what each choice affords me. And so I continue to mull and feel muddled over these choices.

And also weep and grumble over the inevitable moving of my possessions that will happen with this new transition.

Outdoor dining at Virtu in Alexandria

Store window in Old Town Alexandria, VA

Burning lamps on Prince Street in Old Town

Strolling down Prince Street in Old Town Alexandria 

Mum at Monticello in Charlottesville, VA

Parents at Monticello

Parents at Mount Vernon

Miss my old apartment

Camden Harbor, Maine

Whitehall Inn (where Edna St. Vincent Millay was discovered)

M and Me at Pemaquid Point, ME

M at Walden Pond, MA 

Mum at lunch yesterday

Her Royal Highness

Just plain cute

Transitional Seasons

Always in January, I crave a warm landscape. Sandy beaches. The sound of waves. And the glowing sun. A Maine summer (which tends to be more moderate in temperature).  My mother scoffs at me and says I never appreciate the season I am in. I correct her and say it's only the extreme seasons -- winter and summer (in DC) -- where I take issue. I am truly a child of moderate temperatures and the dynamism of a refreshing spring morning or a magical fall twilight. But she is right about appreciating the here and now. SO. For now, I am learning to love the chill and the piles of snow. Maybe I will even take a winter tramp this afternoon.

Photo: Emily Bowen

On a Winter's Afternoon

Oooo, it's that time of year for a clean slate, a fresh start. Where cleansing (both body and home) and organizing are the activities du jour. But to be quite honest, this year begun rather shakily for me. I failed to feel that burst of hope and inspiration that this time's resolutions usually incite.

So instead of beginning with grand goals or hopes, I just want to take one step at a time this year. Small, simple, deliberate steps that will bring health, wisdom, and sincerity in this new time.

Photo: Emily Bowen (via Instagram)

On Another's Sorrow

Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief
And not seek for kind relief?
 Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be sorrow fill'd?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird's grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,

And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity into their breast;
And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infant's tear;

He doth give his joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh
And thy maker is not by;
Think not thou canst weep a tear
And thy maker is not near.

O! He gives to us his joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled and gone
He doth sit by use and moan

~On Another’s Sorrow by William Blake

I was uncertain if I should write in this space about the Sandy Hook tragedy. The word tragedy does not do justice to what happened. And writing on a blog seems futile, self-indulgent right now. Actually, most things seem self-indulgent over the past few days.

But I cannot move forward personally without articulating the utter sorrow that weights my heart.

I just don’t know. This phrase runs through my head on repeat. The past few days I have found it hard at times to keep from crying. I weep for the innocence that was ripped from loving hands, for the bravery of the Sandy Hook teachers, for the heroism and strength of those first responders, especially the ones who removed the deceased from the school.

You just don’t do that. You don’t hurt children. You don’t senselessly enter a school and murder children. I often wonder about the motive. But I don’t think I want to know. I don’t want to understand what cannot be understood. My only concern in regards to the killer is that I worry, if he did in fact have autism, about the repercussions on the autism community and other children afflicted by mental health. 

The President’s speech last night reverberated in a deep part of my soul – we weep with you – and I was proud that he recognized we as a nation are not doing enough to protect our children. That we need stricter gun laws. After its 1996 mass shooting, Australia banned semi-automatic weapons and has not had a mass shooting since. I feel like Friday’s horrific event is the breaking straw – an opportunity to do something we should have done long ago. And I hope that the strong words of the people who have the power to change things do not evaporate into air but become iron-clad, irreversible agreements to protect our children.

I was alone when I heard the news on Friday. Being alone in shock and sadness is a strange and awful thing. Sadly, I felt the only way I could connect was through Twitter and vented some of the painful emotions there. I wrote letters to my local representatives, appeasing them to legislate stricter gun laws and advocate for more mental health supports. You see, my graduate studies are concentrated in the area of child trauma studies and intervention practices, and I wonder, from a clinical perspective, about the unfathomable struggles the Sandy Hook students and their families face over the coming months, and perhaps years.

Life feels so different now. I don't know how it will ever be the same.

The weight of Friday’s incomprehensibility ebbs and flows in its effect on my spirit. We are a week away from Christmas and yet all the glow and cheer of the holiday feels trivial…almost shameful. But then I think of how excited at least some of those sweet children must have been about Christmas. How they had written their letters to Santa and wondering if all their Christmas wishes would come true. So I am making a personal commitment to revel in this season of magic and miracles, to hold my loved ones close, and delight in the simple joys of this special time for those beautiful little angels and their heroic caregivers.

Grateful

I am full this day. Full of gratitude. Full of love. I have known such love in the past few days and I wish for everyone to know this feeling because THIS feeling is what life is all about. Grateful and humbled, indeed, am I.

Accomplish

Today began with the dread of the many things to accomplish  and ended with the fullness of pride in accomplishment. The simple, sweet satisfaction of survival.

Photo Credit: Emily Bowen

Changeable

Thankful for sunny holidays, bright berries by the sea, connecting with people I love, and the knowledge that life has a remarkable changeability that never fails to surprise and humble me.

Photo credit: Emily Bowen

Identity

Well, my heavens, has it been a long time since I have visited this space! To be honest, I wasn't sure that I should continue blogging - I felt so detached from here. I feel that I am best in this space when I am pontificating about big ideas. Life ideas.

My life has EXPLODED in all the best possible ways over the past 6 months. I have truly experienced an embarrassment of riches. A course in life and entry into grad school. A new love. Loads of wonderful friends. The unceasing love and support of my incredible family, who helped me move from DC to Boston for school. I am truly the sum of the wondrous people in my life.

Which brings me to the notion of identity. I feel that in the course of the past 6 months I have negotiated and renegotiated a newer sense of self. It has been dizzying to say the least. For so long, I was very much the same with natural developments here and there.

And then I finally found a true professional course. And I was admitted in graduate school (someone else believed that I could do this too - someone besides my awesome mother). And I finally met someone who fit into my life the way no man had before. Who showed me such kindness, love, trust, intelligence, and humor. Who allowed me to express the love that I had so longed to give someone. I was made better by these things. These gifts. But I was also made different.

And now I am back in Boston and at school. Learning in an academic environment for the first time in 5 years. And it's all at once strange, hard, and wonderful. And we are constantly discussing our identities - our racial, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds. I am here in this new/old place, closer to my family but farther from my love, and trying to navigate the next stages of my life (because I am not a true woman if I am not in super planning mode) and wondering how it will all play out.

There's the old Emily - so close to her awesome family and friends but perpetually single and looking for the one man who could be a kindred spirit. How can I mesh her with the new Emily - not only empowered by friends and family but also now career validations and an incredibly kind and loving man? It seems to be the ultimate decision that many of us face in this fast-paced, populated, multi-option, geographically diverse world. Hah, I am tired just typing this out, let alone making a decision. And the good thing is that I don't need to make one now. But it is coming down the pike. And I am not quite sure how it will all play out. How can I be the person I want to be and be with everyone I want to be? How can I have it all? The ultimate question of the modern woman. Of the modern human.

Update:  A very kind and wise friend read this post and wrote me the loveliest email about life. It meant a great deal but one of her best lines was that "we are all a work in progress." And that's the beautiful part. Thanks, C!

Photo credit: Emily Bowen

The Good

One of my favorite past times in DC is to walk across the Francis Scott Key Bridge from Rosslyn, VA, to Georgetown, DC.  You can see the Monument, the Watergate, and Roosevelt Island.  You will also experience low-flying planes on their way to Reagan. Georgetown in all its snootiness didn't want a Metro stop within it's superior borders so the only way to get there by public transportation (besides by bus) is to take the Metro to Rosslyn or Foggy Bottom (in DC) and walk a bit to get to M Street (the Park Avenue/Newbury Street equivalent for DC). 

Much to my dismay, I have not inherited my mother's green thumb.  I kill most plants I bring into my apartment. However, these two - a basil plant and pretty succulent - are still around and doing pretty well. I guess I am growing up after all. Yeah, right.

I noticed sunsets here more than any other place I have lived. Maybe that's because I live on the tenth floor and have an incredible view of the sky. This also the land of roof decks. Most of my friends have them here and during these warm days, I have been lucky to have spent many an evening lazing about various roof patios and eating an insane amount of ridiculously delicious food.

One of the things I love most about him is how serious and intellectual he can be. From what the future holds to what type of hot sauce to choose. Seriously, he should be a professional taste tester just for the awesomely intense face he makes when he's trying a new type of food.

My future haunt. I visited here a few weeks ago and was thrilled to walk on these hallowed grounds. I still cannot quite believe that this is all happening. The mere thought of being here is like a warm, energizing elixir to my wandering spirit. More updates to follow in a few weeks!

Quite frankly, the best margaritas I have ever made. Well, that WE made on the Fourth. Although the headache I had the next morning was quite frankly the worst one I have ever had. Just not the girl I was at 22.

I like us.