love, loved, loving

Love.

Love has come into my life in the most amazing colors and dimensions this year. My capacity to embrace and give love has deepened in ways that only poets might ever be able to understand. Last week, during a painful conversation I wanted to have, I was met with resistance. Why can't we just keep everything pleasant? the other person's eyes were asking me. I realized in that moment that few people decide to get really messy with life when given the chance. It's easier, somehow, to pretend to be ok, isn't it? So many aspects of life embrace the mediocre pleasantries. I'm proud to say that so many things along my path the past two years have taught me to act and be authenticly myself. I like when people live life in Real with me and don't Pretend. Sounds like a funny way to begin a year end letter, I know, but it's been on my mind.

This year I've been more open to the possibilities of people and the potential of the universe than I have ever before. I think a lot of that has to do with me finally getting fully comfortable with who I am. I've given up a lot of labels. I've given up a lot of other's expectations of me that seemed centered in a realm that never quite fit for me. I've followed my bliss and that has made me blissfully happy.

Something I learned from Lucille Clifton a long time ago is the beauty of stream of consciousness, so here it goes...my life this year in simple images. In January, I was knocked off my feet by an orange New York love. It was a whirlwind of three months that still have me whirling and twirling and dancing the tango with what I learned to this very evening. To that person I say thank you. You were real. In April, I was asked to be a permanent contributor at the Exponent II blog. Here, real thoughts and real issues are talked about with women who have been more open and real with me than most people dare to be. This experience with exploring Mormonism without the confines of labels and expectations have grounded me in a spiritual way that I had been lacking for a long time. Check it out: http://the-exponent.com/. In June, I played Julius Caesar as my group of students pretended to assassinate me in the Roman forum...a few days later, in a random train line in Rome, I met the woman who would offer me a job in Switzerland. After a quiet afternoon alone by Yoko Ono's wishing tree in Venice, I took a night train to Salzburg. I climbed up a rainy cobblestone street to the abbey of Maria Von Trapp and sang a little on the way back down. It was a perfect moment. In August I took long walks along the Seine and held conversations with myself in French. The leaves of the September trees rustled at my feet as I walked through Greenwich village on my birthday and ate a cupcake from Magnolia Bakery. It was on this little visit to New York that I decided to head back to Europe for good. In October, tragedy struck my family in a way I still can't quite fathom. It made most of November a pretty numb time. In December, I spent the week in New York again seeing plays, running into Jude Law on the street, and planning April's proposal in front of the Rockefeller tree. I flew home and finished directing a high school Bollywood version of Twelfth Night. One week later, I packed up a few belongings to start a new life.

I'm safely settled in my new home in Europe. Crans-Montana is a village in the top of the Alps. I eat quiche and take long walks. I kick my feet through the powdered snow and dip my cheese in mustard. I hang my clothes to dry and I drink tea most days around 4 o'clock. I write and research and love and live and laugh and feel more fulfilled in my life than I have ever before. I've been comparing my dreams to the life cycle of the egg. In America, all my eggs had hatched and grew and found their full purpose...but--here. now. this second. new dreams that are bigger and better, dreams that stand on the backs of my dreams that came before, dreams that have started to crystalize into shining realities, have formed and they look pretty. No room for pretend.

These dreams stem from love. The love that I have for my family and friends and students and lovers and strangers. These dreams stem from love. The love that my family and friends and students and lovers and strangers have for me. It's the most incredible gift in the world. It's the spirit of Christmas and Buddha and Yemaya and Jesus and every God and Goddess who have ever graced the consciousness of humanity. It's the most incredible talent to have...better than playing the violin or painting or running marathons. It's the most powerful force on earth (more powerful than a Broadway musical!). It's the most important thing to me.

And I'm sending it all your way. Real Love. Big Time Love.


Love,

D'Arcy

Show Them The World!!

PARIS

Taking a group of young kids who have NEVER left the country and showing them Europe for their first time was one of the most satisfying experiences of my life!! This was an amazing group. Seriously, other teachers were running into problems and issues with their kids and mine were all complete angels (as far as I know) and more than that, they were completely fun to hang out with. They had me laughing and on the go for the entire trip!!
Here they are in the Louvre. They got my own special tour that I used to give to visitors when I lived there so long ago! It was so much fun to run amuck through this ancient palace with them!!

Always camera ready, here are some of the kids in the group, I had 15 total!
We were on a boat tour of Paris just in time to see the Eiffel Tower light up. It's hard to believe that it is right outside my window as I type this. Life is TOO good to me!

We all put in such LONG days and averaged about 10 miles a day of walking (according to my high tech pedometer!) As soon as we got into the bus each night to go back to our hotel rooms the kids just zonked out!

MILAN
Within five minutes of being in Italy I had a gelato in my hand...how life is supposed to be. Once the kids saw that it was totally ok to eat gelato five or six times a day, they were totally on board!!
Outside the beautiful and famous Scala Opera house there was a huge demonstration for the Arts. In Italy, like America, many art programs are being cut from school curriculum and these ballerinas and opera singers were showing the beauty of their craft.
This couple was amazing, doing a whole ballet for us!
Of course the hot Italian police were nearby to stop any madness that might happen. The Italians are a people known for their passion!!
Lunch time! We filled an entire sidewalk cafe!

FLORENCE
The beautiful duomo, it's been about 11 years since I climbed this tower with Holly long ago!
My favorite statue in Italy (and probably the world)
When the girls and I got tired we sat on the steps and then rated Italian men. Is was the best pasttime EVER!! We found a 9.5, if he had been a few inches taller I would have given him a ten, but you can't have it all. Although, I must say that Italian men DO know how to dress!

PISA
It really leans, in case you were wondering.

TUSCANY
Doing her laundry on a sultry day.
I got three scoops of gelato here and it was THE best I have EVER had, they deserved their title!
I did spend a pretty penny on one souvenir for me, I usually get one nice one per trip. I got a set of three handmade vases from this little pottery shop tucked away in a high corner of the little Tuscan village. She is SO talented!

ROME
I've got Italian blood. I really do.
One of the best moments with my kids...reinacting the assassination of Julius Caesar with them on the very place that it actually happened. I taught each of these kids this play during their 10th grade year and how amazing to actually go and witness first hand the old ruins of the Roman Forum!! (I was Caesar, just about to get it!)
Eating gelato, yet again, on the Spanish Steps in Roma!

VENICE
The never ending arches of San Marco Square




And my final act in Italy? I put a wish on Yoko Ono's wishing tree in the gardens of Peggy Guggenheim. This was one of my favorite days in Europe. I would highly suggest visiting Peggy's collection!

Unexpected Thank You...

I got a thank you email from a student I had over two years ago....and let me tell you, it was awesome. Have you thanked anyone today?

Ms. B! thank you so much. You are the most amazing teacher. I just want you to know that you are the reason I even know that I can act, and that I like it. So thank you, you pushed me to do a lot of things that I wasn't sure that I was good at, you gave me confidence and encouraged me to follow my dreams. If I was to name a teacher that has done the most for me in my life, I would definitely say you:) so, know that and thank you. 

To...

To the World, to Tomorrow, to Jesus, to My Cousin Who Committed Suicide, to Anticipation, to Taco Bell, to Anyone Who Will Listen, To So and So, To Whom it May Concern, To My Sisters, To Mango Street, To Poverty, To President Obama, To Missy Elliot, To Mom, To Whomever Cares about The Topic of Language, To Miss Benincosa and Hobos, To Those Listening, To Allison, To The Lord's Resistance Army, To The Reader of this Letter, To The Women of Society, To Future Generations, To Expectations, To My Conscience

The past month my classes have read The House on Mango Street. 

They've breathed in the language and seen the power there, they've worked hard on creative writing, on seeing colors and shapes and life differently than before. They had a series of five writing pieces to complete. The final one is a letter. These are just a few of the things that the letters were addressed to. I'll be sharing much more of their creative work this week as my job has stopped feeling like a job. My work doesn't feel like work. My daily existence is spent participating in so many wonderful interactions with humanity. These kids teach me and I teach them. They learn and I learn. I laugh and they laugh. The past two days we just shared our creations and it was with gratitude in my heart that I am able to do what I get to do every single day.

Wanting...

Here is what I created today. I am calling it "Same". I really like it. It's two separate paintings that will be placed next to each other. I'm framing them tomorrow and will be able to get some better shots of it with the good camera. These were taken under some bad lighting. But I like them. I like them a lot. I'm hoping that I can sell a painting or two in the next couple of months so I can finally have enough money to buy oils.
A lot of people have asked me what I want lately, truthfully, I've been the most insistent with myself. "What do you want D'Arcy girl?" I know what I should want. One part of me wants a PhD and to be powerful and smart and sophisticated. The other part of me would like to find that person that I could be with for a couple of years and have a kid...just one. Part of me wants to move to New  York to be in the heat of it all. Part of me wants to move to California to be in the cool of it all.

And yet, when I keep looking at what I want, what I really want...it's to help people. Plain and simple. I feel my profession is perfect for this. I feel I am good at it. I feel great pride and joy in my daily activities. But I also need more. I want to look at ways of donating my time to do more. I'm thinking of donating my summers to teaching English in Asia or Thailand. If I live frugally I could do this, without any other motive than to help.

When I think about what I REALLY want, I want to help people. I'm an educator. So, I'd like to educate. So many people, women especially, are searching for that, education frees. Sometimes I wonder if I don't need to seek after the prestige of the PhD or the cliche of a husband...and just wander the world, learning and living with it's people.

I'm looking to do this for summer of 2010. If you know any places that come to mind, let me know.

Family, Isn't it About Time?

So, an interesting thing happened today. My mother just called in almost a fit of tears and sadness. Apparently, my sister called her and told her that my blog is covered with pornography (which I find quite entertaining/disturbing on several levels). My sister also told my mother that I was bashing the church, the 12 Apostles, and that I used the F-word every other word. I am not kidding, this is EXACTLY what my mother said to me. Now, given my families penchant for drama, I'll believe that my sister said about half of that.

My mom and my sister. They've never read my blog actually. I really only know of a cousin or two who occasionally checks it. Other than that, no one in the immediate fam besides April. Thus my freedom to discuss and talk and not worry about any repercussions.

So, back to this moment...my sister just printed out my last blog to give to my mother who doesn't know how to use the internet very well. They know I've not been active, but I've never given too many reasons because I know that they wouldn't understand. My mom in a fit of tears and frustration, just dramatically shouting "But why?! Why would you want the priesthood?! Why?!!!!"

It is the easiest thing for me to say, "Well, women need the priesthood." Because to me it sums up much of what I feel and see in the church about the patriarchy. Maybe I don't REALLY want the priesthood per se, but I do want more. I don't know how to voice that I feel hurt in a religion that doesn't hurt them, that I feel confused by a religion that doesn't confuse them, that I feel put down and trod upon and used and slapped, and lied to by a religion that has lifted, helped and loved them. And it does not help that they know very little about the actual true church history and the deeper doctrines, in response to this my mom said, "Well, I have more important things to do everyday." So, again, it's hard to get my point across with this type of "I'm right, you're wrong" attitude.


My mom confessed that she feels I am falling away from the family. With my family I don't mention a lot of ideas because I know no one will converse with me about them or even understand them. I am happy, simple, kind, the peacemaker, and when my mom or sister say things that I utterly can't agree with, i just smile and nod. I know, hard to picture me like that. But truly, it's the Pollyanna image I've cultivated for years as an active LDS/return missionary.

I've seen my family about 5 times in the last two weeks, so I'm not falling away per se, but I did finally confess to my mother something as well.

"Well, Mom, you don't really know me."

And then there was silence. And neither of us knew exactly what to say....


So she went on to tell me that Obama was the Lenin of our time, the Hitler and the Anti-Christ all in one.

Way to find some common footing mom.


But mom, as you read this, just think. Think about it. You've raised a daughter who is happy and accomplished, a daughter who seeks to do good and spends her days teaching children to think important thoughts. You've raised a daughter who has loved and traveled the world and embraced everyone...no matter color or creed with love and acceptance. You've raised a daughter in tune with her spirituality, a daughter who thinks on her own, a daughter who lives authentically and not how anyone else wants her to live. You've raised a daughter who is true to herself, who loves her family, who loves God, who is trying to do her best. Really, mom, just remember, you've done a good job with me. So, sit back, take a deep breath, and let's try to get to know each other, ok.

A Free Bird

Life is good. Life is beautiful. Life is busy. Life is happy. Life is right where I want it to be given a few exceptions. I think because I'm not having religious anxiety, I've gotten rid of most of my relationship drama in my life (that intense dating time was TOO intense), and I've decided to focus on me again, funny how happy I can become.

I have been focused on others a lot this past year. I focused on what people would think about me given my religious woes, and I spent the better part of last year trying to get two people to fall in love with me when it just wasn't working. Now that I've taken a step back from it all, and I'm just D'Arcy again (happy and mostly sane...except for those late night phone calls to Michelle to help keep me grounded) I feel good. I feel damn good.

Work is a major success. Homelife is peaceful and idyllic. My heart and home and love and money are all just working.

I haven't posted much. I've been getting healthy. Farewell dear Rice Pudding...hello cucumbers. I've been hitting the gym about two hours a day, making healthy meals, putting more effort into waking up early and actually putting some make-up on this mug. And by the time I know it, it's 10 o'clock at night and ready to go to bed. I've been trying to read blogs and keep up, but it just hasn't been calling me like it used to. My attention is somewhere else.

Here are some various snippets:

1. My kids took first in the state for English Quest competition

2. A young boy dropped a note on my desk telling me he was praying for me ( I think my feminist/agnostic soul just hangs in the air)

3. I got to hold Holly's adorable baby for almost an hour on Saturday and he just cooed and smiled a winning grin.

4. My students have been composing their own poetry and presenting it. One of my student, a girl who got pregnant four months ago and just found out the sex of her baby read a poem today that she composed for that baby. It was one of the most emotional and heartfelt moments of my teaching career. She will be giving that baby up for adoption in just five months.

5. Another student picked up a gummy bear from the ground to eat. I advised against this. He did not listen to my plea, only to chew on said gummy bears and come to find out it had been in another students mouth just seconds before. Um, yeah, I DON'T teach elementary school.

6. I've been sticking to being a vegetarian. It's a sweet, sweet fresh life!

7. I just rediscovered an old poem by Maya Angelou:

A free bird leaps on the back

Of the wind and floats downstream

Till the current ends and dips his wing

In the orange suns rays

And dares to claim the sky.

While so many are struggling to claim their piece of sky....mine is blue and clear for now. And I'm gonna enjoy that while it lasts...in between the storms. Oh yeah, and I just reserved my hotel for Venice. That's some blue, blue sky!

P.S. Jenn, I don't know if this is entertaining to you....but here's something I found funny if you want to take a gander!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QK3orTftfbA

D'Arcy gets Shot

I was born ready to learn. I was a curious child and asked endless questions and was continually creating stories and ideas to fit my world.

I envied my older sister (five years older). She had the pretty blue room. She didn't have to share with anyone. She had all the cool things. Amongst her belongings was a golden yellow booster chair like the one featured aboved. When she became too large to sit in it, she would place her dolls in it and pretend to feed them. In contrast, I was the PERFECT size for the chair. I dreamed of owning it. Of sitting in it at the table so I could be taller. Of putting my dolls in it and feeding them.

Oh, the dreams of a young girl's heart!


During the booster seat-envy-phase, I was also preparing for school. I went to preschool when I was still two (almost three) which sounds crazy now. I stayed in preschool until I was four. At four, I was going to start kindergarten and I couldn't wait.

There was just one thing.

I had to get the booster shots.

But this was ok. I was prepared to take the pain, because I logically worked it out in my mind that when I got my boosters shots...then the nurse with shiny hair and a pristine, white uniform and angelic voice would congratulate me and hand me a beautiful, new, golden booster seat. All in slow motion.

It just made sense: booster shots merited a booster seat...I mean, where else would you get a booster seat?

The awaited day came. My father took me to get the shots. I was determined not to cry or show any sign of pain (as I thought that might be reason for them NOT to give me the seat). I went in and was the bravest four year old you ever saw. All the nurses said so. There were screaming kids all over that waiting room, and my father was proud that his kid wasn't throwing a fit, showing fear, or just being annoying with tears. He was beaming with pride.

I waited.

I got shot.

It hurt like hell and I wanted to cry.

But I didn't.

The nurse had shiny hair and a white pristine uniform and the voice of an angel as she congratulated me.

And then she patted my head and sent me on my way.

I was confused.

I looked up and said, "Um, excuse me. But, where is my booster seat?"

The nurse and my father exchanged glances, unsure what I was talking about.

"You mean, your booster shots? Well, honey, you just got it. And you were a very, very brave girl." And she patted my head again. My father echoed her praise and started walking away.

"Wait, no! I got a booster shot. Now I want my booster seat!"

The two looked at each other and the nurse started LAUGHING at me! LAUGHING.

"You don't get a booster seat just because you got a booster shot. How funny. Whan an imagination."

I felt dejected. Awful. And I waited before we were back in the truck before I let the weeping, wailing, and the gnashing of teeth begin.

My poor dad didn't know what to do.


Sometimes I feel like I still create these type of logical explanations in life. This sound like it should equal this. And when it doesn't. I'm not sure what cruel joke life is playing on me. I go through something painful because I'm sure the reward will be worth it. And sometimes, the reward is just a pat on the head.


The end.

A cliche is, in and of itself, cliche

Have you ever found yourself caught in the middle of a cliche?  

As a girl who values originality, authenticity, differences, variety, and the unknown, it came as quite a shock to realize that sometimes situations laden with cliche circumstances just float into your life when least expected (and you realize that you have become one of those annoying people you used to scowl at. ugh.) And yet, you've never felt anything less cliche in your life?

Have you ever experienced the old cliche of knowing someone for a week and feeling like it's been forever? Have you ever talked to someone for the first time and it was like it has been a regular part of your routine? How does that happen? What creates those connections? What makes it happen? Have you ever found yourself thinking a new thought, one you NEVER thought before, and yet it just sits right with your bones? These thoughts, these peoples, these deja vu moments...where do they reside within you before you actually know them? What's the germination period? When is the inception? Are we pregnant with these moments and then at uneventful times they are just born?

Is there an inner voice of knowledge that speaks to us of things we may have never known out loud? But when we finally hear its voice, we recognize it as being a deep part of ourselves? 

What is the best way to write your life story? For me, the best lives begin and continue and end with love, all types of love, because, when you think about it, love comes directly from our deepest integrity. When you love,  you honor and respect life.  When you live your life with love, honor, and respect, the story you create for your life is an ongoing romance. Is it true that "all you need is love?"  To love life is to enjoy every manifestation of life, and it might be more effortless than I ever thought. I had this belief that things worth fighting for, certain relationships, certain jobs, certain experiences were just going to be hard. That was the deal. That was what I was taught to believe. Play games. Work it. Make rules. Play by the rules. Do things this way for these results. Strategize.

And then, something good comes along and it is as effortless as inhaling and exhaling....and you get blown away by the simplicity of just breathing.

What does YOUR price tag say?

"Madame Pericand felt that each social class should wear some sign indicative of their station to avoid any misconceptions, just as shops displayed price tags."

                         ~Suite Francaise by Irène Némirovsky

Doctor: So, you dropped out of your PhD program didn't you?

Me: Yep.

Doctor: Well, now what are you going to do, I mean, why would you drop out of it, I mean, you should be doing so much, I can't remember, what do you do right now?

Me: I'm a teacher and an artist.

Doctor: (scowl and smirk together cross his face) An artist? A teacher? Are you just trying to be poor. I mean, what are you going to DO? You can't just do that the rest of your life.

Me: Actually, I am really hap.....

Doctor: What about law school? What about the PhD program at U of U? Have you applied there? Have you thought of that. You're such a smart girl, you should be doing more than what you are doing. Your life isn't over you know.

Me: um, yeah, I know. (insecurity strikes...and for some reason, i get dragged into this conversation that I don't know why is taking place--with my Doctor, who comes across really poorly in this interaction, but who is usually such a great guy)...but yeah, law school, that would be cool.

Doctor: Exactly, now you're thinking....blah...blah...blah...on and on...and...on....

....and my mind wanders to what I am doing with my life and I start to feel a bit smaller (see Sugar's post). Am I wasting my life in small town USA? Obviously my doctor thinks I am a smart girl. Obviously he thinks I am capable of a lot more than what he currently sees before him. And obviously he sees me passing time as just a teacher and just a struggling artist.... according to him, and probably most people in the world, I should try to remedy that quickly.

"Alas, we-- Who wished to lay the foundations of kindness-- Could not ourselves be kind."

                                                     ~ Bertolt Brecht

When I graduated from NYU, I could have followed my head and been on the fast track to fame and fortune. I worked for a very "important" woman. Again and again she let it be known that she was the one who would give me my big break. She lived on Fifth Avenue, her son was a multi-million dollar film producer, she was a published writer, and she, like Madame Pericand in the novel, believed that people had price tags. And, for awhile, I allowed her to treat me like my price tag was much, much less than hers....and in return, I would get what everyone wants. All her assistants had.

Sometimes I find myself thinking back to my stint in the big city....wondering what I gave up. There was a time in my life when I was on a first name basis with the people at Dior. There was a time in my life when I was able to go shopping at Versace and people rushed to do my bidding (well, her bidding really). There was a time in my life where men in white gloves opened all my doors and pushed all the elevators buttons for me, a time when I got into black limos, a time when I got the first bags released from Gucci, and a time when I got high off of this type of living.

People envied me. For the people who heard my tales, my price tag was high, I was living THE life. I had it made. I was going to be famous. I was going to be rich. I was going to be everything this world tells you that you should strive to be.


And then....I decided to move back to Utah. No one understood. Many still don't understand.





Now, instead of Dior, I help my dad weed his garden. Instead of making reservations at the newest five start restaurant, I made dinner for my brother last week. Instead of looking out onto Central Park West from the penthouse apartment, I had a late night girl chat with my sister. And, instead of getting that screenplay into the right hands, I helped my baby sister write her resume yesterday.  And now, instead of a million nameless faces pushing past me on the street...each in search of that dream, my nieces and nephews know my name....

They didn't before.