best laid plans

I had plans. And then they got derailed. And in the midst of these plans and subsequent derailment, I got sick. Not major sick. Not life-threatening sick. But annoyingly sick. And anxiety-inducing sick. And that took over nearly every thought process. It still is.

Every year I think I will figure out what my life is supposed to be. "This is the year it will all click." Sometimes things click. And a lot of times good things happen, but I'm still left wondering what my life is supposed to be. I've realized in the five or so months of illness that I truly have no idea what I want to be when I grow up, what I want for my life or even where I want my life to be. I've thought, "do I want to move?" "do I want to travel?" "what do I want to do for a job?" I'm nearly 35 years old and have no answers.

Life went pretty well until 18. Yeah, there were hard things. Lots of moving. Few friends. No true friends. CP issues. Anxiety. Lots of moving. But my family loved each other. I did well in school. Good memories.

And then my family started to fall apart. I went to college, which was great but also showed me I didn't really know myself. And then I graduated and two weeks later my family officially fell apart. Then I couldn't find a job because I was too anxious. Mom got sicker. Mom died. Then I felt like grad school would fix things. I graduated. Dad died. And I'm still in the same job I got in library school. Which is a great job, but not the job I want. Not the job that has meaning and purpose, although I'm so grateful for it in the practical sense.

I want:

To have enough money for my needs & not have to budget so carefully.

To wear clothes that feel 100% comfortable all the time.

To help people.

To do things that matter.

To travel.

To not be afraid.

To not fear being alone.

My health.

In some ways those things seem so simple. But I fear change. I fear what happens if I move forward AND if I stay static. And I also feel bored and restless from being static. Maybe part of the problem is picking a direction, a path.

heavy

The last few weeks have been difficult. At first, I thought it was simply the time of year and the memories that come with it, but every day things have gotten heavier and heavier and more of a struggle. Nights have been filled with literal and figurative darkness and strange dreams.

The last three days I have felt like I had no escape whatsoever from the anxiety. It started with a negative interaction with a patron that has just spiraled and spiraled inside my mind and has brought with it a sense of regret that I'm not a better person than I am and that I'm not as kind as I wish to be. Added to that is a deep yearning for my family, for an anchor, and for understanding.

BUT, there is good too:

A phone call from an aunt who understands the sense of loss I feel.

Positive interactions with some of my favorite people.

Listening to the radio WAY too loud in the car.

Simple things like finishing the laundry and doing the dishes.

Ordering new rugs for my bedroom and entryway.

Setting up my snowman collection.

The Apple holiday commercial.

Unexpected compliments.

Yearning for home

I've been longing to write lately, but my head has felt almost too full to actually get anything out. This morning I was looking for a quote for the sacrament program and I remembered a talk from Elder Holland that I really liked... well, I didn't end up using that one. Instead, I came across Elder Uchtdorf's talk from the same conference (also really good) and I found myself looking at that:

"God calls to you. God knows your every thought, your sorrows, and your greatest hopes. God knows the many times you have sought Him. The many times you have felt limitless joy. The many times you have wept in loneliness. The many times you have felt helpless, confused, or angry. Yet, no matter your history—if you have faltered, failed, feel broken, bitter, betrayed, or beaten—know that you are not alone. God still calls to you."

Life has been tough lately. I'm not sure why... there isn't ONE big thing that happened or even a bunch of hard little things. I've just been anxious. And my soul hurts. And yet, I still feel blessed beyond comprehension.

A couple of months ago it was really starting to feel like the pressure was too much. As I was praying one night I told my Heavenly Father that I really wanted to go to Skye. Long story short, through a series of miracles, I get to go to Skye in September. And the Jane Austen Festival. Two things that have been on my bucket list since my first visit to the UK four years ago. I'm not exactly sure why, but travel is definitely a pressure release for me -- I struggle with anxiety way less when I travel (which sometimes doesn't make sense to me -- shouldn't being in a foreign country be stressful in it's own way?) -- and I feel more like myself. And more like how God sees me. I feel very blessed for the desire that He has given me to see the wonderful world that He has created and that He miraculously provides the means when I need the escape the most.

When things in my head get particularly bad, I often long for "home," to be done with this struggle and to be reunited with my family. I recently went to the temple and did a few names from my dad's family. And I cried a lot. Doing family history for his family has given me a bit of purpose lately. It's interesting to me because I have no biological connection to these people, but I still feel a sense of connection and of joy when I am able to find them and help them do their temple work.

I feel a particular connection to the UK. I feel like I could go back there over and over and never tire of it, particularly Scotland. As I've done more and more of Dad's family names (who are largely from England and Scotland), I've wondered if part of the reason I have traveled is to foster a greater connection with these people. I've been told in blessings before that as I do family history that my ancestors will help bless my life and give me support and I've also been told that traveling is a necessary part of my life experience and something to bring me joy.

On a somewhat related note, I feel closer to "home" when I travel... my family doesn't feel so far away and I feel the Spirit closer at hand. Traveling "forces" me to rely on the Spirit in a different way than at home. It's a feeling that's harder to hold on to once I return to normal life, although I always try my hardest. I think it's at least partly a desire to connect with something familiar in an unfamiliar place. I remember the first time I was in Scotland on study abroad we were at the National Library of Scotland and the director was talking with my class about the different things that they do there and he mentioned that they had just recently completed a collaborative project with the LDS Church to build a new genealogy resource and storage center in Edinburgh. I remember wanting to cry in that moment, 1) because I was longing for something familiar and 2) because I felt a dramatic sense of "connection" in that moment.

Last night as I was locking up for the night and getting ready for bed I realized that I haven't felt any  desire lately to do anything to my house - furniture or otherwise. It feels complete. I do still want to buy a nightstand (purely for functional reasons), but I don't have the desire to fill my home with things or go on some great decorating binge. (This does NOT mean that I don't want to hang up the stack of artwork in my living room, just that I don't need to buy any more. ;)) It was a good feeling to realize that I feel settled and proud of my home.

This has all been a little disjointed and random, but at the end of it all I feel more settled in myself, so mission accomplished, right?

'I can barely breathe."

{"she became herself with tears" by caitlin connolly}

I listen to KLOVE every day in my car and quite a few of the songs have made it to my personal playlist over the last year or so.

Lately, three songs in particular have spoken to my heart. Even the titles are indicative of where my head space has been the last several months...

"God Help Me" by Plumb.

"Even If" by MercyMe.

"Fear Is a Liar" by Zach Williams.

Each in their own way is about submitting and trusting God. A few months ago I realized that I'm not particularly good at submitting. Submitting and dealing with anxiety can kind of seem to be a cross purposes... how do you submit when fear is ruling? It can be so hard. The interesting thing about this is that my prayers increase exponentially during periods of high anxiety. That's good. And the merciful and miraculous thing is how much my Father in Heaven blesses me in these anxious periods. The one thing that anxiety has helped me to cultivate is a grateful heart. Sometimes I think that's my saving grace -- the awareness and appreciation I have for His intervention when I'm desperately suffering inside my own head.

The last few days He has given me little ways to serve others and it has been such a blessing to ME.  

It's a constant battle. Last night and this morning I really stumbled. And I felt horrible. But you know what? In the midst of self-recrimination this morning I got a text from my aunt about a painting she thought I'd love. She was right. And I bought it. Which is so not like me. I agonize over every purchase that I don't deem "necessary."

There is so much I want for me life. Some of it temporal, some of it eternal. For whatever reason, the timing isn't right yet. BUT, I have so much hope. And that hope saves me. Even when I stumble. It's going to be OK. I'm not sure how or when. but those things I most hope for will be there when I need them most.

"things"

I haven't written here for awhile. My journal entries have taken the form of notes on my phone. But that's not exactly conducive to pouring my heart out. And yet, there are limits here too because I feel I cannot be completely free. Oh well, it's a balance anyways, right?

I'm a new-ish homeowner and I love my space. It's not big, it's not grand, but it's big enough and grand enough for me. It has a garage and it's close to work and I don't have to worry about rent rising or a landlord. Every day I wake up in awe that it's mine. I hope I never lose that feeling -- even when I have to leave this house behind someday. For whatever reason, I haven't felt like I'd be here that long... what exactly that means, I have no idea. It's hard for me to judge that when the longest I've ever lived in one house is three years. And even now i find myself wondering when I can go on the next adventure. But I think that's just a product of my growing up and me needing to learn how to "settle."

-----

A few weeks ago someone asked me what my perfect day would be. That's hard for me consider... I'm easily content and the main thing for me would to have an anxiety-free day. However, there are things I'd like to do and I told this person one of them... and then this past week, I unexpectedly got to do it. Paige invited me on one of her photoshoots and it was amazing. It was amazing to see someone do the "thing" they're meant to do. As much as I hate having my own photo taken, I've always been fascinated by photography... the ability to capture a fleeting moment and evoke a feeling feels my soul with hope. And we all know how much I love the concept of hope. ;) I came back from that shoot feeling inspired and renewed, and yes, full of hope.

I want to find my "thing." I feel like there are many things I'm good at, but nothing I'm particularly passionate about -- not even being a librarian, as much as I do enjoy it (most days...). I feel like I haven't quite found it yet... the thing that makes me happier than I've ever been. I don't mean this in a complaining or discontent sense, far from it actually. I have a very good life. And I'm extraordinarily blessed, but I feel like I haven't hit on my mission yet. And I want to, more than anything.

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The stars have always fascinated me. They make me feel more connected to God. And now, to my parents. Somehow when I see the stars, I feel like my parents are closer -- that they aren't "gone" or "lost" and that they haven't abandoned me. Someone (the same "someone" from above, actually) described the stars as a visual definition of eternity. In that moment, I didn't feel crazy for loving the stars. It felt like a confirmation of all the reasons I love them. And now, I really want to go stargazing.

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My little cousin was baptized yesterday. I was surprised at how strongly I felt the spirit. I cried a lot. Almost embarrassingly so because this cousin and I aren't particularly close and I debated extensively about even making the effort to go because I felt like it didn't even matter that I was there. And it probably didn't matter to him. But I realized that it did matter -- to me. And I realized that I feel the spirit a lot more than I realize because I had the same feeling at Paige's photoshoot and when I've travelled and when I go to the temple -- it all makes me feel the same.

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I still miss my little family horribly. I think I thought that there would be a day when I didn't miss them anymore and that would mean I'd moved on. But that's not true. I still miss them and long for them to be here... mostly because I've realized what great cheerleaders my parents were. They made me feel like I could do anything and like there was nothing wrong with me. And I love them for that. I've reached the point now where I don't pine for them and I don't feel bad for myself that they aren't here. The normal now is for them to NOT be here. And that's good. But I still miss them. But if I had to choose between having them here and having them together, I'd choose them together any day. And someday I'll get to see them again.

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I had to explain to someone (not the same "someone") about the way I walk and why I walk the way I do. It was cool to feel how Heavenly Father gave me the words, even if the person didn't take it well. I don't understand people sometimes. But in the eternal scheme of things, the way I walk is a minor (truly minor, even in the worldly perspective too) inconvenience. And the people that matter in my life don't and won't care. In fact, several people have told me lately that they don't even notice it. And the truth is, neither do I. It just is. It doesn't look TOO weird. It doesn't hurt. And it's kind of hard to miss something I've never had -- a normal gait. For whatever reason, the way I walk is the way I walk. The bleed was a necessary part of my journey and a necessary tool for my progression. And most of the time I feel like Heavenly Father is proud of the way I handle it. I hope the same can be said someday for my other trials. :)

Will there ever be a guy that sees me and understands me? My patriarchal blessing seems to think so. :) I've always wanted to get married. Not to be taken care of, but so that we could take care of each other. Lift each other up. Support one another. Be strong (temporally and spiritually) when the other is weak. Build a life together. And see the best in each other. I hope someday soon that happens. What a blessing and privilege to have a partner, no matter what the future brings. And then, we can dance in heaven. ;) And maybe here too.

a year without dad

It's strange losing my parents. When mom died I was so utterly and completely lost and heartbroken. I had to start life over and had no idea where to start. But I keep remembering this talk by President Uchtdorf titled "See the End from the Beginning." Even just having the title go through my mind is comforting and also sometimes a much-needed attitude adjustment. :-)

SO, if I try to see the end from the beginning in relation to my parents, let's start here: that completely lost feeling I had losing my mom led to me living with dad for nearly a year. And, while it was a very tough year, I'm grateful that for that one year I had a dad full-time again, especially now, after surviving a year without him.

If I try to see the end from the beginning, I realize that the priesthood blessing I received the night he died has proven true. I was told in the blessing that dad was in a better position to help me now than he ever had been while alive. And I've felt it. I've seen it. My favorite instance being driving home from Sprouts and realizing how comfortable I felt (not something I feel often with driving) and in that moment KNOWING that dad was sitting in the car with me.

And perhaps the greatest gift of all? All the years of anguish I felt personally leading up to and surrounding my parents' divorce has been healed. I don't know how things are supposed to work out, but I do know that the hurt and animosity that existed between them here can't exist where they are now and I believe that they are working together for my good because they both love ME. And that's the most amazing of all.

This year has been tough. Not in the same way it was with losing mom because dad's death didn't complete uproot my life and force me to start over. BUT, in many ways I felt like I was grieving for mom all over again too. And Pepper. My greatest struggle this last year has been dealing with the unfairness of having my family unit gone and together WITHOUT me. How I have longed to be there with them, especially since I don't have a husband/family of my own to leave behind.

I've missed our daily phone calls and the "hi Lex!" that greeted me every time the phone rang. I've missed the corny jokes and the cooking advice. I've missed how it felt to have his hand hold mine and teasing him about his "curb feelers." I've missed the way I could ask his advice on anything and he knew how to fix it. I miss the excitement he expressed whenever I succeeded at something, even if it wasn't something he cared about. I've missed going on drives to nowhere. And really, I've just missed his bigger than life presence and radio announcer voice.

How grateful I am for a dad that left so many things for me to miss. :-)

One year ago

One year ago, on the first Sunday in January, I had a prompting about Dad. Today as that came to mind (quite unexpectedly), I was hit with an avalanche of emotion.

Honestly, when I received that prompting I thought I was crazy and I've never wanted to be wrong about something more than I did at that moment. The six weeks following were awful, but a confirmation of faith as well (if that makes sense?).

Even now, it's still a little weird for me to not talk to him before work on Wednesday mornings and each Wednesday night as I take my dinner break at work, I'm still afraid to turn on my phone.

And tonight, I want nothing more than to have all three of them here with me. It just doesn't feel right to be left behind.

thankful...

What am I thankful for this year?

... a Father in Heaven who puts people in my life who ease the sting of loss.

... a Father in Heaven who cares about every little thing that's important to me, no matter how "insignificant."

... being a part of a forever family.

... knowing that when I need them the most, mom and dad are still there. And they still love me.

... finding joy in simple things.

... and too many other blessings to even count.

{image via designlovescompany.com}

home sweet home & "cowboys in overalls..."

- the garage. It's still weird I have one, but I LOVE it. The first night I came home late from work and saw how full the parking lot was, I started to panic... and then I remembered I didn't have to worry about it. It was awesome.

- the kitchen. For being a rental, it's pretty close to my dream kitchen. White cabinets. Deep sink. Walk-in pantry. Quiet appliances. Did I mention that the appliances are quiet? In the old place, every time the dishwasher or washer or a/c was on it sounded like a jet engine. Now I have to stand next to the washer and dishwasher to make sure they're running.

- the setup. It feels so much more like a home. I've missed that.

- the light. I love natural light. And even though we live in an inside unit, there are so many windows and I love it.

- the balcony. One of these days before it snows I'm buying a chair so I can sit out there.

- the proximity. It's pretty much in the same area I lived before, which I love because it means everything's familiar and I'm still close to family.

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It's been a tough week, but every time I have a tough week I'm amazed at how blessed I still feel. I miss the parents so much and there are SO SO many questions I wish I could ask them. And yet, it comforts me that they are together. It's been long enough that the desire to talk to mama has faded a bit (although given the opportunity...). But daddy has only been gone 6+ months and I still find myself reaching for the phone for our daily call. I'd love to hear him say "Hey Lex!" again. He always acted so happy when I called. And I don't think there was phone call where he didn't make me laugh hysterically.

I remind myself constantly that they are in a better position to help me now than they ever were. And I need that. SO MUCH. However, it's still tough to navigate life without them. And there are a lot of times when it doesn't feel fair, even though I know life isn't supposed to be fair -- as dad would say, "fair is a place where cowboys in overalls throw cow chips for distance" -- honestly, I really don't know what that's supposed to mean except "fair" doesn't exist.

"I feel my Savior's love"

When I got in my car at 6:15AM to meet Derek to drive to Lewiston for Tizzie's homecoming thais was the song playing on the radio. It was PERFECT. I struggled not to cry all the way to meet him. I told him multiple times how grateful I was that he offered to go with me, but words are so inadequate. I really have the best family. And if the anguish of the last several years has taught me anything, it's that Heavenly Father loves ME and knows ME and wants what's best for ME -- trials, anxieties and all. Nothing is too big.

I'm not sure why everything has had to happen this way, but I was telling my wonderful Auntie this weekend that if I had to go through all of it to know that He loved me and to learn to recognize the Spirit better, then it was worth it.

The gospel is amazing.

(this was the version playing on the radio this morning.)

I needed to write

Sometimes I feel like I should be over all of it already, but then I remind myself that it's not really something you "get over." And it's okay if I break down and cry once in awhile or if things feel unjust. I just can't let myself get bogged down in it.

I feel like my emotions have been on high alert lately. There is so much going on inside my head. Excited about moving. Missing the parents. Wondering about the third roommate situation. Wanderlust. Wanting to be a librarian. Issues I have no control over. Preparedness. And not really knowing how to deal with any of it.

If I could choose (and this is a knee-jerk reaction), I would know when I'd see my parents again. My wishes for the third roommate would come to pass. I'd take a road trip to Seattle (but not by myself. That's boring.). I'd be able to determine which direction I want my career to go (I never imagined myself as a career person). The issues would be resolved. And the preparedness. No one ever really taught me how to do it, but I think it's an easy fix (time consuming, etc. but not hard)... once I move. 

And this is a cranberry bog. This is what I always think of when I write "bogged down." I'd love to see one in person some day. So maybe a trip to Maine needs to be added to my bucket list. ;)

(from here.)

22

Last night as I was kneeling down to say my prayers a memory came into my mind and I strongly believe that Heavenly Father wanted me to remember it for a specific purpose - what, I haven't quite sorted out.

"Remember how it felt when you walked after surgery." 

I don't really remember much pre-surgery. I don't remember what it felt like to walk like a "ballerina on pointe." I remember all the therapy and serial casting and being terrified of the saw even when they showed me that it couldn't cut into a tomato. I remember the braces. I remember the teasing. But I don't remember what it FELT like. But, I remember after. 22 years ago.

{via}

The casts all the way up my legs. The mosquito bites I couldn't scratch. How yellow my legs were when they came off. Eric rubbing baby lotion on my legs. The missionaries doing wheelies in my wheelchair. The walking casts. How bad it hurt to stand up, to put pressure on my feet. Accidentally stepping on the track for the shower door while taking a "real" bath for the first time in 6 weeks. The walking casts coming off.

And, a family friend asking what it felt like to walk for the first time with my feet flat on the floor.

It was amazing.

And for some reason, I needed to remember that.

empower

make (someone) stronger and more confident, especially in controlling their life and claiming their rights.

Today I did three things that normally I would talk myself out of... and they're the type of things that wouldn't even end up on a "normal" person's radar as stressful events. :) BUT... I felt so empowered as I did each one and I wish I knew how to hold onto the feeling just a little bit longer because that feeling totally outweighs whatever influence the anxiety has on me (and my body...). I also came home and cried... but that's normal after a stress response. :)

I met with my wonderful bishop on Sunday and since then I've been praying to have the proper perspective on certain things because I just feel like maybe I've been looking at things wrong. The reason I met with the bishop has nothing really to do with this post, but it does have to do with perspective, so here goes...

A few weeks ago I wrote about how Rhett had asked me how I saw the tender mercy in everything and I have to say that his question has been a great blessing in my life because I can't forget it - I keep looking for tender mercies in everything and really, that's an awesome way to go about the day. :) 

When mom was diagnosed with cancer four years ago and I realized that it meant she wouldn't be here anymore, that there was a tangible expiration date to our earthly time together I was so scared. I can still remember exactly what it felt like with the thoracic surgeon came out and said that they had found "suspicious cells" in her lungs and that it looked like she had an abdominal mass, but that wasn't his "area of expertise" so he'd done a biopsy. It was the most suffocating, crushing, unable-to-breathe pain I'd ever felt. The worst panic attack I've ever had. (Also, the first one.) BUT, it didn't take long for me to start seeing the tender mercies that were so prevalent in everything. And in the years since, I can look back and see things that happened that serve as tender mercies to me now.

And when I struggled to keep breathing (quite literally) in the year after she died, I also witnessed so many tender mercies. However, it wasn't until I moved back and things really started to happen in my life that I realized that I could see them everywhere. And having dad pass away has just increased that evidence exponentially. Tender mercies aren't just coincidences. They are evidence that Heavenly Father knows us as individuals and blesses us as individuals. To an outsider these random instances of good fortune or happiness or friendship might mean nothing, and that's okay because to the person who sees/hears/benefits from these "random instances," they are miracles!

You should read this... even if it's not new to you, read it. 

Dot (or in other words, birthday reflections ;))

Great birthdays are...

- celebrating the whole long weekend

- good food (that's really not that great for you...)

- thoughtful texts and FB messages

- laughter

- being reminded of your good qualities

- long naps and good books

- emails from your favorite missionaries

- the temple

- surprise gifts

- reminders of the parental units

Last night after family dinner during the whole "we love you because..." Auntie dearest was saying that the term "Aunt" didn't really fit our relationship... someone suggested "Maunt" (combo of Mom and Aunt) instead (hahaha). But then today we were talking and she said "How about Auntie M and you can be Dot?" (Like the Wizard of Oz... sort of). Well... Dad used to call me Dot. Not very often and more so when I was a kid, but... and now I'm crying again. ;)

favorite things {right now}

- this talk by Elder McConkie.

- these bowls from anthropologie.

- this shirt from loft.

- this necklace.

- this print.

- this quote:

"Let parents bequeath to their children not riches, but the spirit of reverence." -- Plato

missing the parents playlist

These days (as in, the last 4 months...), it's difficult for me to miss one parent without missing the other. So even though it's Father's Day, I find myself missing them both very much... and even Pepper. I don't think many people think about what it's like. For the most part, I've been okay these last months, but there is always this ache deep in my heart that just doesn't leave. It set up residence over 3 years ago and hasn't left.

While I am very comforted by the knowledge the gospel brings, and even by the idea of my parents watching over me together, none of that replaces having them here with me - even when they hated each other. Hindsight says I'd take that over having them both gone even as stressful as it was. But at the same time, I wouldn't trade anything that has happened in the intervening years. I guess that's the tender mercy of it all.

The four of us (me, dad, mom and pepper) were a unit for a long time. Things changed a little bit (understatement of the century) after the divorce, but there was always this unit and now I'm extremely jealous that they are all together again (yes, I believe that Pepper is there too).

I miss talking to Daddy on the phone every day. That was a huge part of my life for the better part of 9 years. I remember when I moved with him and Marcie to Texas that I missed those daily phone conversations even though I saw him every day. How silly is that? When I told him that, he called me on his way to an appointment the next day. And when I decided to move back home, I was so happy to get that back. It was so fun to talk to him every day. He always made me laugh. And we didn't have to talk about anything important either.

And even all these years later I miss movie marathons with Mom. We'd go to the library or redbox and pick up a pile of movies and just sit and watch them on the bed all night. Watching movies by myself just isn't the same. :)

Pepper. Her quiet, comforting presence was the best. The way she'd lay pressed right up against me and whimper in her sleep or the way she'd softly paw my face in the morning when she needed to go out.

I love you guys!

1. The Wind Beneath My Wings

2. Fire and Rain

3. Who'll Stop the Rain?

4. I'm in a Hurry

5. Brave

6. Happy

7. I Hope You Dance

8. Forever Young

(yes, some of these are cheesy... especially #1...)

Happy father's day...

to this weirdo...

I love you, my "handsomer."

P.S. This is the card I'd buy you if I could... like it? ;)

Elder Burton

{via Pinterest}

I've had two experiences in the last few days, courtesy of Elder Burton, that have been absolute tender mercies / miracles.

The first: a visit from an Auntie when it was desperately needed to 1) boost my spirits and to 2) let me know that my Father in Heaven and my parents are aware of me. I had called her in tears a couple hours before and thanks to something Rhett had written in an email, she felt prompted to come see me at work.

The second: after recounting the profound effect the above experience had on me to Elder Burton and thanking him for his part in it, I received a reminder of something that I think has kept me alive the last few years: see the tender mercy in everything. He asked me how I could so easily see the tender mercy in everything and until I read that, I hadn't really considered that I did. But the idea that I do was yet another boon to my weary spirit.

missing...

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

// e.e. cummings

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