I See You

I objectify you.

No, not in that way- don’t worry. I see you as a person, worthy of being treaty with dignity and not as “something” existing for the purpose of benefiting me. It is precisely because I see you as a person, as a “someone” worthy of respect that I objectify you. I see what you do, and I care enough about you to make a judgment about it. I see what you cannot see from within yourself, I have the power to go beyond your limited judgment from a subjective standpoint, and state things the way they are.

If only you could see what I see from out here. You would see your value, your spontaneous expressions, and your shyness. You would see someone who contents yourself never to object, never to blatantly stand up for yourself. You would see a worthiness of being loved. You would see intelligence that is undermined by yourself and others. You would see your weaknesses and your trials, and if you were me…you would love you even more for them. Not in spite of them, for them.

I wish you could see you objectified.

Injustice

Why is it so much easier to believe people are either black or white, completely guiltless, or the worst person in the world? Why is it so much harder to see that everyone is fighting the same fight I am, the fight for the good part of myself? I can see it so clearly in myself, but in everyone else is fighting a losing battle for my goodwill and understanding. Why am I not joyful when I see someone I don’t like showing virtue or goodness? Why does it make me angry? Because it threatens the case that I have built up against them? Is that why? If that is the case, in the end I have as much culpability for my lack of charity as they do for whatever I am holding against them. If their fault really offends me that much, shouldn’t I be overjoyed to see myself proved wrong? Why does it hurt my pride so much? And why, oh why, do I care that everyone else knows who they “truly are” or the “true persons” that I create them to be. Because, really, who am I to say who they truly are.

Dirndls and Water Slides

One of our first weekends here, we had a really unique and awesome opportunity. The school was celebrating 20 years of having an Austrian program in Gaming, and there was a special mass with the bishop at the Kartause, and barbecue. We all got to dress in the traditional Austrian outfits; the girls got dirndls, and the guys got lederhosen. Let me tell you, at first I was not going to get the outfit. Everyone was really excited about them, and literally the school had two nights when the 130 girls who live in the Kartause this semester all packed into a room and picked out their Austrian outfits. We usually only rent them at the end of the semester for the Austrian ball, and then if we want to buy them we can. I almost didn't get one, because I didn't understand the big deal, but now I am really glad I did. Almost every girl was wearing one the day of the anniversary celebration, and it was really fun seeing everyone all decked out.
It was a wicked hot day, and after the barbeque, we went to the local pool for the day, and it was CRAZY FUN! It was the very last day the pool was open, which was weird because we continued to have nice weather into the beginning of October. They had a huge water slide and a high diving board, which I went off for the first time ever. As which everything we seem to do, there were at least 50 Franciscan people that converged on the community, and it was a blast.

Streeeetch

So many things happen every day, and while I admire the people who blog every day...honestly, I'm too busy making memories to write them down!
In our household journal that the SOL sister have written in when they come, several sisters used to word "stretch". "Austria stretches you", they say. The first day, when myself and my 3 other household sisters here opened the household box and read that, I don't know about them, but I didn't get it. As the days pass, however, I can't get that word off of my mind. When I realized my classes were not going to be a piece of cake, when I got blisters the size of texas on every one of my toes from walking all day, when I experienced just how uncomfortable sleeping on a bus really is...I began to understand the meaning of "stretched". Even further than that, I feel that God is stretching me to the very seams in my spiritual life, in my relationships, and in the non-stop pace of life here. It's the kind of stretching that leads to a better formed product, though. You know when you're spreading pizza dough? You have to tug and pull at the dough, that just does not want to spread. If you make a hole, you don't know what you're going to do, but you just keep stretching. Yes, I just made an food analogy, but that's the way my mind works, I guess.

Speaking of a non-stop pace....I have to go before I have really written anything concrete. Well, I'll put up a picture of a mountain. Ok. Bye for now.

Cliff bars and Backpacks

So I have to say, I'm not much of a hiker. An occasional nature walk, but not the hardcore, Cliff Bars and boots, backpacks and scaling rocks, mud and bugs sort of thing. So I still am baffled as to why I signed up for a 16 mile hike. Yes, you heard me right, and no, Dad, I did not get the conversion from kilometers to miles wrong- it really was 16 miles. When the school told us about this hike, they described it as a hike "anyone can do". A 7hr, low key, occasional hill, fun pilgrimage to Our Lady of Mariazell shrine. I figured this was a standard, everyone-does-it-I'll-be-fine sort of thing, so I signed up, along with 3/4 of the student body here.

Let me tell, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my 20 years of life. The day started out great, with sunshine and good spirits, and it truly was gorgeous. I brought a backpack that had mine and my roommate's lunch and bathing suit, towel, water bottles, and other essentials in it. I soon realized that it was not the smartest choice. I honestly didn't mean to overpack, and it didn't feel like overpacking back in the comfort if the Kartause, but let me tell you, 3 hours in and you start to feel like every oat in every granola bar in the bag weighs 3 pounds. My camera was in the bottom of the backpack, and I regret not being able to get the most gorgeous parts on the trail on record. When you're walking for that far, and that long, and asking yourself why on earth you ever thought it was a good idea, I realized that so much of your attitude can be affected by the people you are with. I was lucky- the group I was with prayed together, laughed, and encouraged each other. It truly became a pilgrimage and a bonding time as we fell and got cuts and lost nearly all willpower going up steep inclines.

A couple hours in, one of the sisters joined our groups, and she was the greatest blessing of all. She had been sick for 10 days before the hike, and still felt called to come on it with the students. At the toughest parts, she kept us distracted by asking about our lives, and we all opened up to each other even more as we got to learn about each other's families and lives.

I was worried about how my knee was going to do, although I tried not to show it, and there were times when I pictured my physical therepist rolling his eyes and me and calling me an idiot. I am just so happy that I was able to do that hike. If I had known what I was getting into, I'm sure I would have thought I couldn't. I guess God really wanted me to go though, because He got me through it, and honestly, my feet hurt 10 times more than my knee.

The thing is- it was awesome, and hard, and a sacrifice, but I would do it again. Well......maybe not right away.

Travelin'

view from castle ruins on the top of a mountain we climbed. The castle was one where King Richard the Lionhearted was thrown in prison by somebody of the way home from the Crusades. Mom, as a tribute to you and your teaching skills, I remembered EXACTLY who Richard the Lionhearted was, even before they told us that he went on the Crusades.


view from the Melk monestary...myself, and two foreign exchange girls who are also at the Kartause with the Franciscan students (Pona, left, and Daria, right)



my friend/roomate/household sister Bri

Monastary at Melk, a small town not far from Gaming

I love the way every step of my life feels like a rhythm. Places and people flow in and out, and time passes without permission from me. No sooner have I convinced myself that I couldn't possibly be more comfortable and content in the place that I am...then it changes and I find myself somewhere new, and happy. So happy. Don't get me wrong, my life is no bowl of oranges, but I have realized that while I miss my sister's when I leave their homes, when I say goodbye to a friend for a couple months, or when I think that nothing will be the same, it is, and I'm ok. It's the way life goes. I love realizing the balance of missing the people you're not with, while appreciating the place that you are.
Especially when the place where you are is...I don't know, EUROPE???? That's right, I'm in Gaming, Austria for the semester. On my plane ride from Buffalo to Chicago, I sat next to the Philipino couple, late 60's, and that dear woman talked my ear off. Half the time I didn't even need to put in any input, she just talked. Some of it I couldn't understand, but I DID learn that she doesn't like too many things on her pizza, her 3 kids like to travel, and "plane rides go fast when you talk, no?". I sat in a dirty airport for 8 hours without internet or a phone or companionship, and was almost glad to get on the plane from Chicago to Warsaw. I sat next to this girl going to study in Florence, Italy, and she was my age and from LA! I was so happy about my luck! She was really sweet, and by the end of the 9hr flight we were best buds. In Warsaw, Poland, I paid 6 euro for a cup of coffee that was half the size of a small in the US.....however, it was delicious. The plane ride from Warsaw to Poland was short and bumpy, and I thought our teeny, tiny, neon plane was going to break at the seams.
The Vienna airport was a joy to behold, and we were only a baggage claim away from freedom from airports. Myself and the other Franciscan students waited for an hour, and by the time our flight number disapeared from the baggage claim...we each had one piece of luggage. I looked around for the lost and found office, and booked it for the nice lady in red. Another hour passed as we reported our luggage missing and they promised to send it to the Kartause the next day. I don't remember the bus ride from Vienna to Gaming, except that I dreamed about a shower. When we got here, we had just enough time to make mass, and then I FINALLY got a shower.
I am in love with Austria. I've been here 3 days, and I can't get enough at just LOOKING. All I want to do is stare until I can finally believe I am here. You turn around, and BOOM, a mountain that looks close enough to touch. Accents so thick I just want to listen to the people here talk, it sounds so cool. It's amazing to me how fast I have adjusted...how fast this feels like home. It's not home, of course, but I don't feel like a traveler in a strange place. But, of course, I am.

Cover Your Mouth

People are so hard to read. Sometimes I envy God's "eagle eye". He gets to see everything from above. Literally and metaphorically. He can see the big picture, and His perfectness allows Him to be "above" our faulty reasoning. My own weaknesses, preferences, tendencies, and shortcomings make me constantly doubt my handling of relationships. How can I ever be trusted to do the right thing when I can't see beyond my own agenda?

I know it's not all my fault. Clearly, I am not entirely to blame. And yet, when you are so focused on doing the right thing so as to increase the likelihood that the other person will, by ripple effect, also do the right thing, and then the other person fails...it falls back to you. Or me, in this case.

Sigh. And here I go, talking in abstract terms that only I can follow because you are not in my head. If there even is a you. Actually, I am probably only talking to myself, so technically I could speak in concrete terms. It's tempting. I won't, though. There's something about words that is definite and damaging. Think about it. All our thoughts are shaped by the words we are fed, or the sights or sounds that we translate into words in our head, which all come together to form meaning. When I say "giggling", you picture a three year old coloring on the bright, clean, wall of her bedroom. Or...at least...I do. When I say "suffering" you get a completely different meaning. The words we use to describe people can have a lasting effect far beyond what we think.

It's absurd, and stupid, but I have actually held on to a negative idea about a person, even after getting to know them and finding out the opposite was true about them...simply because I trusted the person giving me the information. How twisted is that? If only we just covered our mouths for for just moment, to hold back the words that don't need to be unleashed.

Give It Up, Already

Why is it that the later it gets...the more I find reason to stay up? Not like i'm really enjoying myself all that much, in fact, i tend to be a cranky, needy mess. It just seems that I am incapable of finding the will power to force my tired body to let go of this day. I'm going to blame it on female stubbornness. Yeah...yeah...that sounds...good....*yawn*....

A Perfect Mess

Christmas in July. Beach vacations in February. Falling leaves on a scorcher day. Rain for the garden. Sun for the picnic. We always want what is just beyond our reach. Especially when it comes to weather we stick out little noses over God's shoulder, absently hovering in another season instead of enjoying the one we're in. Sometimes I wonder what God was thinking when he gave us the free will to be constantly asking for something besides what we have. It's a beautiful thing to realize that in His perfectness, He doesn't even get annoyed at us, He just laughs and sadly watches us chase our tails around, trying to find our perfect...everything.
What a funny concept perfect is. We let it slip from our tongues like magic waiting to happen. I mean, it was a good day for a wedding, but if only the sun had been just a LITTLE bit less...sunny, it would have been just PERFECT. We spend so much time obsessing about what we think would make, well, EVERYTHING more perfect, that we never stop to think about the fact that we actually have no idea what perfect is. We simply add that word whenever we think there is room for improvement...so pretty much all the time. You know what I would think would be perfect? If we let go of what we thought that perfect was, and let the only One who actually is, govern our lives.
Hey, He wants it to hail in mid June? Go for it, He wants this post to be a random rant about who knows what? Let it be done.

Just One...More...Step.

Sweat, Pavement...
My lungs fill with beautiful, glorious air.
Cramps, Aches...
I push my body knowing I'm almost there.
Racing heart, Heaving chest...
I'm getting so close to rest...
Just One...More...Step.


Rushing, Smiling...
"Would you like some sorbet, Ma'am"?
Scoop, Drop...
There's a shopping cart traffic jam.
Running low, Crazy store...
No more spoons, have to get more.
Just One...More...Step.


Slow, Afraid...
I move as though about to break.
Pain, Grimace...
Have to try, it's just an ice pack in the freezer I have to take.
Fighting, crying out from the pain...
I spill some juice, it leaves a stain.
Just One...More...Step.


Raindrops, Disappointment...
My cheeks don't need more liquid sorrow.
Anger, Hurt...
Praying, praying for a better tomorrow
Take a deep breathe, hope for the best...
Trust that God will take care of the rest.
Just One...More...Step.

Catch a Falling Star and Put it in Your Pocket

There are so many things about life that catch my breath. One of them is fireworks. It's more than the bang and florescent explosion before your eyes...an eruption of weird colors like purple and green, together in a large circle in the sky- those I could do without. The reason I love fireworks, and the reason I watch with bated breath are the "fallling stars" I call them. I've never seen a shooting star, or a falling star (are they the same thing? I don't know), but I can't imagine it could be any better than those certain fireworks. Do you know the one's I'm talking about? They are usually gold, but they can be any color, and they are the ones that shoot up, and then disapear for an instant before reappearing. They burst into a full glory, and then as you watch, the gold explosions drift slowly down, lengthening as they go, and looking altogether almost like a weeping willow tree. As they slowly fade, you can almost picture yourself reaching out and catching some of that glorious wishing dust in your hand....before you are again assulted with the cheap neon thrill and deafening roar of the other fireworks.

For once in my short life google images has failed me. It's alright, just close your eyes, I know you can see it.

Pure, Blissful Rage

Have you ever caught a glimpse of a baby or a small child in the midst of a full blown, screaming, crying, tantrum in the middle of a grocery store, mother standing by in hopeless surrender of the inevitable? For some reason when I see them in the midst of their open mouthed, not so silent protest, I have to smile at them. Not that I find joy in their apparent misfortune of being deprived their freedom from the grocery cart, chocolate, or nap.
Firstly, I smile because I love the flagrant disregard of children for what is socially appropriate. While everyone else is exchanging pleasantries, there is a 2 foot 5 inch ball of pure rage who demands to be acknowledged. Sometimes I wish we were all like that. What if every time the person in front of me took the last pretzel roll, I burst into angry tears and unleashed my pure, raw emotion? Or the next time someone criticized my bagging technique, or demanded triple plastic with double paper, with one item per bag, I screamed bloody hell? Bottling emotion would be no more.
The second thing I love is that whenever I catch the eye of an unhappy darling, I raise my eyebrows and smile at them, almost as if to say "...Really? Is this really something to be upset about?" Almost inevitable, they hold my gaze and stop screaming long enough to try and figure out why I dare to smile in the midst of their meltdown. It's almost as if they cannot fathom why I am not buying the pity party. Then as quickly as the peace comes, it departs again. The child's mouth parts and he gives a half- hearted howl, as if to make it clear to me how truly upset he is, and I walk away, still smiling.

Baguette Blunderings

Hello, my name is Maureen, or Mimi.....and I am addicting to watching people. It has been 5 hrs since my last relapse, and I am not afraid to admit it. Today I fell into the temptation while at Panera. Somewhere inbetween the baguettes and trendy/classical backround music people lose their society facade and become rediculously see-through. Ok, ok, as my Mom is constantly reminding me..."Maureen, for someone who doesn't like to be put in a box or stuck in a category, you tend to do that very thing to other people". I understand, and I try not to, but who can help their first impression?
Take that woman over there..no not that one, THAT one...My 10 o' clock your 8. Ill-fitting cropped pants stretched over a post-menopause bottom, grey hair fast approaching white. She talking on her cell phone to an insurance man about another insurance man who rejected her claim; the claim she is making for her son who got into an accident. The way she calls the man on the phone "Sir" and says "Yes" instead of "Yeah" to me shows that she is polite, and not willing abuse the middle man when she is angry with and wants to stick it to "the Man". Her defensive attitude and her tone when she talks about her son, who I can gather is no longer 16...or 26 for that matter, suggests a rather controlling attitude for her son and perhaps his laziness in growing up. After all, why isn't he in here pursing the heartless insurance man?
Oh look who just walking in- living breathing, drama and attitude in the form of 3 13 yr olds. Lovely age. Innocence in it's finest...look at how cute, a boy and two girls, eating and talking about...uh...dating and cheating? Well, that was unexpected....and..Oh that's nice, the sweet little girl in the mini skirt just gave the boy the finger. So much for innocent.
Then there's the blonde mother and her blonde daughter, discussing wedding plans with such a strong, Buffalo accent that makes me smile...in a materialistic way that makes me wince. And of course, how could I forget the elderly couple who watch their surrounding's quietly and drink their coffee. Top it off with a self announced, 30 yr old hippie out to convert people and spread his happiness and "high on life" and you've got yourself 4 hrs of distracted "work" and successful people watching.
Sometimes I wonder if people realize that they are not all that hard to read if you really look carefully. But then again...what would someone deduce from me, watching me for a mere 15 minutes in a public place? What sort of depth can you really get on someone from just watching them. Do we understand more that we think we do, or do we think we understand...and really we are just making shallow assumptions based on appearances?
Who knows. Actually...I think that's it. I think I just answered my own question. No one really knows, that's who. At the end of the day, all I have really done is observe and extrapolate what I have seen a thousand times over to make deductions without ever knowing the fact. Which is exactly what my psychology professor advised up NEVER to do. I guess it's a good thing this isn't an assignment, simply a blog thrown into the abyss.