It's Freezing Outside, But I'm Warm This Christmas

It was a beautiful weekend.

I had a really nice lesson with my Saturday class this week, and they reminded me of exactly why I love doing what I do.  Then we had the Bell Christmas party last night.  Karolina, Zenon, and Zuzia brought their adorable children, and it was wonderful to have them running around, playing and laughing.  I even got a bit of a cuddle with Karolina's daughter, which was great.  It reminded me of how much I'm looking forward to giving Natalie and Hudson big hugs next week.  The Polish teachers taught us some nice Polish Christmas carols, too, which we all tried to sing together, with more success than I would have imagined.  Then we went out dancing.  It was one of those nights you really don't want to end, so you just keep going.  It was well worth the headache this morning.  Which didn't last, because of Aija's magical pancakes.  They're the world's best hangover cure.  I need to get the recipe before she goes.

Anyway, today was well below freezing, but Aija and I walked to Turzyn (and stopped to feed the church ducks some leftover pancakes on the way!) and spent the afternoon at the mall and the outdoor market, trying to get some Christmas shopping done.  I don't know if I was just really happy today, or if Szczecin was especially beautiful with all the perfect white frost-coated trees and people bundled up and carrying Christmas trees home, but today felt like all the reasons I used to love Christmas so much.  And it had nothing to do with buying or getting presents, nothing to do with cookies or extravagant meals.  It's just the people everywhere, getting ready to celebrate with the ones they love.  Humming Christmas carols and smiling and not thinking about how cold it is or what they have to do at work tomorrow.  Maybe I'm Pollyanna-ing a bit here, because it's been such a wonderful few months, and I'm really happy these days, but, if so, who cares?  I'm excited to go home for Christmas, and just as excited to come back in the new year and resume my life here, with these people, in this place.  What more could I ask?

But in the usual way of things, just when you're able to ask that question and not have an answer, you find one.  I came home and talked to my mom, and she told me that my grandfather is in the hospital again.  His kidneys are failing and he's going to start dialysis tomorrow.  I'm upset.  And I'm worried.  About him, about Grandma, about Mom.  But it makes going home for Christmas seem even more important.  I'm not sure if the Christmas celebrations are going to carry on as they usually do, and I won't know how long he's going to be in the hospital until tomorrow, at the earliest.  But I'll see my grandfather this Christmas either way.  I'll spend time with my family, and I'll be in exactly the right frame of mind to appreciate it.  I don't know where I stand on prayer, but I do believe in positive thinking and I believe in community.  So if anyone who reads this could keep my grandpa in your thoughts over the next few days, I would be grateful.

Even with the bad news, though - and maybe even a little bit because of it - right now all I keep thinking is what an incredible thing life is.  Even an ordinary one.  My grandfather spent his working years mostly at a brewery.  He saw the ocean for the first time in his life in the late 1990s, after he was already retired. He's stayed pretty close to home for most of his life.  He's sick now, and life isn't easy.  But he has loved my grandmother for nearly 60 years.  He has six children, dozens of grandchildren, and even quite a few great-grandchildren.  He created something real.  I'm choosing to live my life a bit differently, pretty far from where I started out.  But I think I'm doing something equally valid and real, and I hope he's proud of me, like I am of him.

Finally, as a Christmas present to you, the beautiful song that's been in my head all day:

Can't You See My Heart Burning in My Hand?

I’m a little tipsy.  I just played a three hour game of Trivial Pursuit with my mom and little brother.  And it is times like these that I wonder why on earth I am putting 5000 miles between myself and the people I know and love so well, everything that is so comfortable and comforting.  But the truth is that the answer is kind of in the question.  Comfortable.  It isn’t a bad thing, really.  Unless you’re talking about the way one lives her life, in which case, you might as well substitute the word “cowardly,” as far as I’m concerned.  There was a famous author who said something like, “Life is always a tightrope or a feather bed.  Give me the tightrope.”* (I’ll look it up later and let you know in a footnote.)  It’s such a funny thing for a writer to say, because when you think of authors, you always kind of picture quiet, mousy people.  At least I do.  Which is more than a little odd, because I’m  a writer, and whatever else you may call me, I don’t think you’d say I was mousy.

Over the past three years or so, I’ve mostly been disappointed in myself.  But it’s been lessening in recent months.  And it’s not because I’m living where I am, or working where I am, or anything like that.  I think it’s because I’m coming back to acceptance with myself.  I was digging through old writings yesterday, trying to decide what to take with me to Poland, what to consolidate onto my computer, what to leave behind and forget about, and I found lots of scraps of yellow legal pads with frantic scribbling about how miserable I was, how confused, how unsure of what I wanted or afraid of trying to get it.  I think that’s what’s different now.  I’m not trying to boil my life down to one answer: a career, a person, a place.  There isn’t one thing I want to do.  And there never will be. 

I want to live.  I want to teach a class, learn a new language, wander unfamiliar streets.  Then, I want to zipline, despite my horrible fear of heights.  I want to salsa dance, even though my friends will think it’s lame.  I want to fall deeply into inconvenient, imprudent love.  I want to risk my own safety and comfort to help people in dangerous corners of the world.  I want to talk to Travis Gasper again and tell him what I never managed to say: how much he always meant to me - just for the sake of saying it.  I want to go to Provence and bet on a goat race in the dusty streets, fight with tomatoes in Buñol, go to Burning Man.  I want to build houses in New Orleans.  I want to write something and put my heart on a page for publishers, friends, family, and (hopefully) the public to mock and stomp on, if they want to.  I want to be an old lady who never gives up on being “young.” 

Maybe what I want isn’t this one overriding focused objective, but it sure as hell isn’t comfortable, either.  I can rest when I’m dead, damnit!

For the first time in my life, I kind of (seriously, kind of) understand evangelists.  If their faith makes them half as joyful as my carefree abandon makes me, I can see why they’d want to shout from the rooftops about it.  I’m not so sure about condemning people, but the preaching part, I could see. 

If you feel like taking part in the new gospel according to Rachel, try something new in the next few days.  Something (borderline) embarrassing, but that you’ve always wanted to do.  Then report back to me about how you feel, having done it.  Mine is that I’m going to go to the park with my mom’s friends** and do Tai Chi.  Time allowing.

*It was Edith Wharton
**This is even funnier because I don't think my mom is going to go.

Wonderful 

Twenty-seven is too old to spend more than a week with your parents

Mark Twain said, "Keep away from those who try to belittle your ambitions.  Small people always do that, but the really great make you believe that you too can become great."

I agree, but what if the person in question is not someone you can walk away from, or even ignore?  What happens when, even knowing that it isn't worth listening to, the words are coming from somebody who will always have your ear?  Do you brush past it?  Ignore it?  How?

I always try to remember that I am the only person who has been with me through every experience and every decision I have ever made, so I am the only one who really knows what is right for me.  Which helps.  I can still be proud of my accomplishments, even if other people are not.  But it still hurts.  So here's my question: When it's family, when it's someone you love, and you're hurt and you can't just forget it, how do you forgive?  Because I'm absolutely sure you should.  But it's not easy at all.

The Good Land

Part One.

Oh, Milwaukee.  Why did I leave you?  You are full of good friends, fun times, fond memories, and cute babies I'm related to.  Obviously it was a well-spent weekend.  I saw a lot of people I love and I had more fun than I've had in quite a while.  For those of you who want the short version, I can sum my weekend up in the following photographs:

**Photo credit for the picture of me and Hudson goes to Natalie.

On top of all the fun, though, after the baseball game, I went out for ice cream with a group of friends.  Some of them the faithful familiars who are always up for a good time when I'm around, and others who haven't seen me in so long that they didn't even know I didn't live in Milwaukee anymore.  And there was no booze, no band playing, none of the usual social lubricant usually involved with seeing old friends.  But we all slipped so easily into hilarious stories, filthy jokes, and poking fun at one another that it felt like none of us had ever drifted apart at all.  And I realized that your real friends are your friends no matter what you've been doing or how old you get or where you live.  Looking back on younger years, it's easy to miss the carefree days, the ridiculous antics, and mostly, the old friends.  But it's cool to realize that the friends, at least, are still there.

Part Two.

So I've been thinking a lot about the distinctions between family and friends.  Often the really good friends feel just as much like family as the one you're born into.  But there are some very obvious differences.  Case in point: I've seen a lot of different reactions to my "big" life decisions the last few years, and I've been wondering why, when my family has known me for so much longer and in such closer quarters than my friends, they always seem more taken aback by my choices.  I always get the most questions, the most cautions, the most (what seems to me) reticence from those who supposedly know me best.  Why?

Here's why: family is full of hierarchies.  Parent, child.  Youngest, oldest, middle.  Brother, sister.  There's a lot of push and pull, give and take, responsibility and power.  Your family is structured to take care of one another.  So when you announce something like, "I'm going to move to Poland this summer and become an English teacher!" your family goes into protective mode.  I hope she's not going to get hurt.  Let's make sure she's thought of everything.  What if this doesn't work out?  Your family wants to try to prevent you from doing anything stupid, if possible.

Friends, on the other hand, generally view one another more or less as equals.  They've seen you pick yourself up off the floor after some big spills.  Hell, they probably got you drunk to numb the pain of the fall.  They've let you help them when they took a hit.  And if your relationship with your friends is anything like mine, they've definitely seen you do many stupider things than your family can ever hope to - and they've seen you live to tell (and laugh) about it.  So when you announce something like, "I think maybe I'd be ok with a life as crazy Auntie Rachel who is always flying in from random countries with ponchos and necklaces and exotic liquors for everybody!" your friends go into a completely different mode.  They're much more laissez-faire.  How can I help?  Let's have a huge farewell party!  I'm going to come on some of those trips with you!  Your friends not only don't want to prevent you from doing anything stupid, they kind of want you to do stupid things.  Just for the sake of doing them.  Because you can.

But you know what?  Both responses come from a good place.  They come from people caring about you.  So I guess I can stop obsessing about what it all means, and just remember that I'm awfully lucky to have people to care about me in all of these ways.

Oh!  And on a much less sappy note, read this blog. And die laughing.  Good work, Evie.