Now we can swim any day in November

iFail at blogging. I couldn't bear the thought of letting all of November pass without writing anything...so here is a picture of us being a happy and married people.

We have been now been married 108 days, and we are enjoying a very sweet and adventurous existence. We live in Springville in a sweet “country” house by the train tracks. We often have deer abiding in our yard, undoubtedly drawn by the endless wellspring of eternal LOVE that is our home. We love being married and consider it a “far, far better thing than [we] have ever done before.” I wish I could write all the things I really want to say, but maybe people wouldn't understand. I don't know where I could write it. I'm so grateful. I really couldn't have imagined a better partner for myself than Jonathan. He is a kind, clever, loyal friend to me. I love how he whistles and sings around the house. Jonathan is probably not the first person who comes to mind when you imagine someone who never stops singing, but! He NEVER STOPS SINGING. He sings whatever song he heard last with my name substituted for all of the proper nouns. I love it, it makes me so happy. I also like to listen to him when he sings the hymns at church, especially the base parts, and when he whistles “New Slang” it melts my heart. I miss us being in school together and I'm a little sad we never will be again, but I am SO happy that this semester is finally grinding to a halt. It was torture to be flung directly from the island honeymoon beautiful life into the old rooms-like-cages again at the Y and only seeing Jonathan at night instead of being companeros (I know it's annoying that I even said that, because it's "real life," but real life is actually kind of crap sometimes, so I stand by it). This semester has required much more of me than last fall, when I ran blithely around all the time and practically lived at the Commune...I'm working as a therapist at Vantage Point and I have a nearly all-Spanish caseload. I work with "troubled" teenagers and their troubled and overwhelmed families. I love WMH; the people I work with are kind and fun and welcoming and I've never had such a productive internship in my life, but therapy can be daunting. It's a multi-faceted kaleidescope world. Some of the things I absorb in my heart, some of them make me feel more cynical and hopeless than I ever have before, other times I could wring the joy out of my own flesh. I am feeling more confident all the time, but there were a few weeks at the beginning of October when I was awash with cortisol and terribly anxious every night about going to work the next morning. I would mumble to myself in Spanish and wake myself up saying, "I can't do this." When I think of how sweet Jonathan was with me during that time, it brings tears to my eyes. He would let me curl up on his lap and tell me to listen to his heartbeat and it would calm me down. I love him, he is so good. I'm obsessed with being married to a social worker...not just a social worker but the most adamant advocate for human agency I've ever met...if you've ever had a real conversation with Jonathan you will know he is a philosopher and a seer of people's intentions. It's immensely helpful--sometimes I tell him about a case and he helps me click it right into place. My mind converts everything into feelings and his mind converts everything into ideas. We used to say when we were dating that I was Emotion and he was Reason. HA! I don't know if it's true all the way but I know he has what I need. Sometimes I feel sad thinking that he doesn't need very much from me. I feel that I benefit much more than he does from our relationship. It doesn't help that I'm sort of a freak, which he is everlastingly patient with. I want to serve him dramatically.
This is sort of a partial update, but there's so much more I could say, like how I cried in Modern Display when my Dad told me about his grandfather taking care of the garden in the nursing home, or how I miss weird things like going to PDR meetings on Tuesday mornings, and how I miss seeing people so much that it makes me self-loathe, and how I fantasize about moving to El Paso. I have to goal to blog every day in December, so we'll see how that goes. :) Carry on, carry on, carry on!

1 year!

Its been a year since Rachel and I "got together." That is crazy! I'm so happy that we are married. Its interesting looking back because every relationship seems like marriage isn't possible, or too hard, or not going to happen until it does! And I'm so happy it did. Its fun to think about decisions you make carrying so much weight...and we're mostly oblivious to the effects they have on our future selves. I wish I could see everything that way, I'd make better decisions. I am so happy I made the decisions to pursue Rachel, as scared as I was. It has brought me happiness I couldn't really suspect or anticipate. When I think of our beginning relationship and what we are like now, it's amazing how thing have changed. And all for the better in my mind. I love Rachel more than I ever have, and I know her better than I ever have. I hope that always continues.

I teach relationship classes for my job. One thing I always discuss is how things can get old and stale. I realize that this is a choice. It is the way our brain works. We ignore the normal or ever-present. It's in our nature. When we allow our mind to do what it will, we slip into equilibrium. Usually it's not the best equilibrium, but it's peaceful. I think in relationships this transfers as a sense of boredom or things getting old. Everybody has felt this feeling in some relationship in their life, if not in the most important relationship in their life. It is something that makes us scared of commitment and scared of marriage.

I try to teach that you have to overcome this part of yourself, the part that gets used to the normal. We should be oh so grateful for the things that are so normally good in our lives. In fact, if you look at the way most everyone is living, our lives here are usually anything but normal...and I mean that in the best way. My life is anything but normal. I live with the girl I love, and I love her more and more every day. What luck, I say! Every day should be a celebration of sorts, a celebration of the great blessing that is my only Racher. When it isn't, whose fault would that be? Really, it's only my fault. I choose what sticks out to me, I choose what I remember. Unless we fight our minds urges to make things normal so it can forget about them, I feel we're doomed to unhappiness. The truth is, when you're looking for it, no person becomes old. When you care for them, you keep finding interesting things out about them...or they keep doing more and more interesting things the more you know them! I find this true about Rachel. Every time she tells me a story of her childhood I get a new perspective on who she is. It's insanely interesting.

I may be just young and naive, but one thing I do know is that it is a choice for us to keep our relationships up. To keep them new. It isn't out of our hands or up to destiny. We choose who we love and who we will continue to love. It's all about the small choices, like choosing to be "together." I'm so happy I chose Rachel and that she chose me also. I hope we always choose eachother, however many other choices we make!

Rachel's Burgeoning Domesticity

Now that Racher is married, she has turned into a domestic goddess! We want to be the sort of people who are not closed off to the rest of the world, like so many other newly wed couples. So we've been inviting people over to eat here and there. Rachel always cooks something REALLY good! She is so sweet because she tries to find out what they like so she can cook something they will enjoy when they come! I fall in love with her every time it happens! Whenever Rachel does anything domestic, she always makes a funny and cute comment about her "burgeoning domesticity." She's said it a bunch, but it still makes me laugh every time she says it! Nothing could be funnier than burgeoning domesticity! It really is burgeoning though! I need to learn how to cook because it must feel really good to be burgeoning into a domestic goddess!

I love beads, and as a result I went to the bead fairy store here in Orem. Rachel kept calling me the bead fairy and I told here that instead I was the bead pharaoh...it sounded more masculine. I love playing with my Racher. Rachel is so sweet to me, and once again, her endless antics make her such fun company. I love her and am so happy with her!

I was a quick wet boy, diving too deep for coins. All of your street light eyes wide on my plastic toys

Note from February 12th 2010:

Dearest, only, Racher,

I love you tons! Sorry I stayed so late, I really was going to let you sleep since you’re sick. Thanks for being so good to me. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world to me, I feel like I know you really well. I can’t wait to discover more hidden wonderful things in you…I promise I’ll find them!

Love Jonathan

I miss those days.

With your halo slipping down

This is the warmest conference weekend I can ever remember! I'm obsessed with it--and with the glorious September that just finished with brilliantly warm days. It's like Summer came out with an extended version. Jonathan and I went on a walk and I noted with glee that it felt green like July. I bless nature for delaying my winter grief. And for the soft golden glow through the trees in the evenings I can see from the living room in our little house.

We're home with my family and it's wonderful. I wanted to share this: My bendita mother has written a poem for each of her married children and shared it at their wedding luncheon. I love her for doing that...they are so deeply sweet and personal. I remember that Doug's was about a little bird and mine is about the Heaven-fear I share with my mother (some may understand). I love her so much for knowing this part of me, and for giving voice to my hope. When she shared this poem she mentioned that she and I were good friends and we had grown up together, and that this was a burden we shared. She is right. I remember we all talked about poems that day: both my parents, my grandfather and I. It's in the blood of my life. I'm praying that it will come back so I can write again, too. Here is my mother's poem!

Search for Cibola

Legend tells of a city of gold,

shimmering in the desert,

which lay on a level stretch,

at the brow of a roundish hill,

whose people drink

living water

from golden cups

that fall from the trees.

Cibola, beautiful Cibola,

Soul of desire

Supernal joy.

Many sought Cibola. .

Her vision,

launched galleons and

consumed the strength

of mariners and mighty men,

who wagered all,

for a glimpse

of her glory.

But found instead

a dusty pueblo

home to dark eyed natives

who measured treasure

in women and children,

and neat rows of

corn, squash, and beans.

Cibola

never was.

Yet some say,

for a moment,

from a distance

in early dawn,

they see her,

when morning’s piercing ray

bathes adobe walls

in brilliance.

Cibola, beautiful Cibola,

Soul of desire

Supernal joy.

Many seek Cibola.

and lured by dreams of glory,

lust for glitter

that consumes but never fills

and die empty,

certain

the dream is dust.

Cibola, beautiful Cibola,

Soul of desire

Supernal joy.

Cibola was and is.

Be still.

From a distance

at dawning,

you will sense her,

as piercing love

bathes your adobe

in brilliance.

Search for Cibola!

Let her vision warm you.

Let hunger for wholeness

consume you,

and keep your feet

all the dusty length to her gate.

Cibola, beautiful Cibola.

Soul of desire

Supernal joy.

Cibola

still lies on a level stretch,

at the brow of a roundish hill.

Measure her treasure

in the eyes of your children,

in your neat rows of

corn, squash and beans

and find her,

at last,

at home.