patience, patience, patience.

i am being tested right now. on my patience level. in so many ways.

breathe. ground yourself. this too shall pass. (as mom has always said.)

my head is all over the place. i attempt to connect with myself. look with my heart, not with my mind.

breathe. ground yourself.

i am feeling a strong love. an intense yearning and desire. i want to see you.

breathe.

follow your heart. where does it want to be? i wish to be at peace within myself. i don't want to jump city to city, hoping to find a safe landing eventually.

breathe. ground yourself.

be here. now. we only have today. live in the moment. i wish to love with no boundaries. to love myself, unconditionally. to love you. to allow myself to love you, open heartedly without fear.

breathe. focus. be here. ground yourself.

i miss you.

doing thursday night, right.

nothing like finishing off my day right. it all started a little blue. now it's finishing in colors of orange and reds. yes. martin made some fresh juice (carrot, parsley, apple and sweet potato). DEE-LISH. and what better to go with juice? a glass of wine. (and maybe a little grey's anatomy.)

along with that juicy goodness, we picked up some fresh cherries at the farmer's market tonight. i don't remember the last time i had them. it's a sweet treat indeed, for my body and mind. it brings back such wonderful memories...sitting out in our fruit orchard, the warm grass surrounding and tickling our skin, as we sat indian-style below the cherry tree. martin and i would have contests to see who could put the most cherries in their mouth...until of course we became puffy-cheeked chipmunks, with no room to even begin chewing. that image is so vivid in my memory, and i will always smile upon thinking of it.

it's funny how lucky we were, and we didn't even know it. our mom and dad had planted a number of trees upon starting their lives together out in the country where i was raised. cherries. apples. peaches. nectarines. pears. apricots. plums. persimmons. pomegranates. babcocks. (on a side note, babcock is a funny word.) our mom would prepare delicious, homemade jams and jellies with our fruit. or even homemade applesauce--which i must add filled our home with the most amazing aroma. or the year we walked down the road to our aunt's house and made homemade apple cider. our dad would make pancakes every saturday and sunday morning, each carefully filled or served with our fruit. all of it was at our fingertips. and i enjoyed every moment of it. but what's crazy is that i find myself not buying certain fruits because they're "too expensive." i'm upset that we had the fruit at our own disposal, and now i need to pay for it? word?

that being said, when i "settle down" in my sweet home, my plan is to do the same. i am going to plant as many fruit trees as possible, that way the "fruit of my labor" will literally be delicious, sweet goodness to share with my family and loved ones. i wish not only to share this treat with them, but the memories i hold deep in my heart.

who how?

how is it that one person, surrounded by such beauty and loving people, can feel so lonely?

i have never felt so lucky and so grateful for my loved ones and the opportunities that are being placed before me. and yet, i feel lonely. ??? i feel like i have so much love to give, and i LOVE to give my love to those around me. but perhaps i am not saving any of that love to give to myself. it's not the easiest thing to do, for anyone really, to give the same amount or intensity of love to themselves, as they do to others. it is something i am practicing. i realize it may never be something that i can perfect, but is something definitely worth attempting to do.

i went to martin's energy worker, Jude. she is an incredibly kind and gentle soul. i was instantly comfortable baring my soul to her, telling her all the pain i'd locked up for so many years...things that even some of my closest friends know nothing about. after many tears shed and blockages released during my appointment, i left feeling as light as a feather. as if i could float up into the sky and walk amongst the clouds. even better was the love i felt. the love i felt warming my soul, the love i felt for my family, my friends, for Britton...and more importantly the love i felt for myself. i left feeling invincible. nothing would ruin my day. i felt whole. complete. and radiating with love.

i want to get back to that place.

regenerating beginnings.

hot damn. i waited since last august to blog? where has life taken me since then...what is interesting or enertaining to list? lots of things really.

martin has fully recovered from our europe adventure. scariest experience ever. and it opened a lot of doors that i'm currently dancing underneath, attempting to decide if i should walk through them or backstep. i've never been fond of backstepping. too old-fashioned for me.

oh, opened doors, what do you have to offer me? insight on who i am. ideas of whom i'd like to become. thoughts of who i no longer wish you be. reinventing myself, over and over again. is that what this life is for? (oh god, i almost sounded like an effing "Creed" song. PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!....why am i shouting??) i am not perfect. and i am learning to accept that. and also love my imperfections. but also attempting to be as kind to myself as i am to others when they are going through such transitional changes. accept. breathe. in. out. accept.

life has given me quite the amazing obstacles recently, as well as new and fun games to play! i have loved. i have stopped loving. i have hurt. i have cried. i have felt cheated. i have had no faith in life or love. i have had new visions. i have felt. i have liked. i love. i am loved.

latest and greatest? sweet apple, what delicious and tasty adventures do you have in store for me? that's right. i'm doing it. (no, not american pie style, come on.) i'm moving to nyc. i am feeling a wide variety of emotions. excitement. anxiety. fear. desire. confidence. insecurity. i am feeling them all, and i am soaking it all in. i am aware. and i am alive.

the plan is to be in nyc by may/june of this year. holy shitballs. that's right, ladies and gentlemen. i will be there in less than three months. wait, what?! less than three months?! let me say that again. HOLY SHITBALLS. mmmm, ok..thanks, i feel better now. i am SO excited to see what that beautiful city has to offer me. it will tear me down. it will hold me up. it will piss me off. it will make me happy. it will make me sad. it will bring me joy. it will make me irritated. it will tell me to speed up. i will try to slow it down.

nyc is going to challenge every sense of my being, and i'm game. bring it on. (oh it has already been broughten! boom!)

b.9

(began August 21st, 2009)

Martin is very sick. I want to scream. I want to take his pain away. I want him to be better. I want to go home. I want to have faith in the doctor’s here in Bruxelles, that they know what they are doing. My heart hurts. I just want him to get better. I am thankful for family right now. Aunt Nancy and Matt have been very helpful in trying to offer suggestions and doing some research in what we can do, what’d be best for him, cost wise, safety, etc.

I feel like I’m in a nightmare and I want nothing more than to get out. Right now!

Martin had claimed he was having some stomach pain. I remember him saying that he was having an “icky, kind of raw” stomach our last night in Paris. We admitted him into the ER after he was bed ridden for two days. He was moaning in agony at the slight touch to his stomach area, having great difficulty at the simple task of standing, pale in the face, eyes heavy…they took his temperature, another indicator of his current status being very low, he had a fever--39 degrees. After conversing with each other the doctors decided to start an IV to cure his dehydration and they ran tests. So many tests. Blood tests. Urine Test.

After about an hour or two passing, which I may say was not pleasant for either one of us, Martin especially, we got the results. He had a severe infection, due to his skyrocketed count of white blood cells. They were not able to, unfortunately, find out where the infection resided until the next morning when the radiologist was in. That meant an overnight in the ER. The nurse, who we were both so thankful for that evening, kept him on the IV, gave him something to break the fever--attempting to make him as comfortable as possible within the next six or seven hours. After waiting for those dreadful hours to pass what seemed an eternity it was time for more tests. They took him to get an ultrasound and returned him back to his room. I felt so vulnerable. I just wanted to help Martin. All he wanted was to start feeling better. But to the different various floors we were sent to wait to do more tests. They were not able to see anything clearly so they took him back up get an X-Ray. Within about three hours they were able to tell us that there was a “blockage” due to severe inflammation within his intestines. Judging by his X-Ray and symptoms, they gave a juvenile diagnosis of “Crohn’s Disease,” or inflamed bowel disease, as they were only 80% certain upon this diagnosis. They would not be able to be certain that he had this disease until he has a colonoscopy.

They put a tube down this throat via his right nostril in order to give his digestive system a break and collect any bile that would be produced. I can not explain how heartbreaking it was to see my brother in this condition. I felt as if I was seeing my Dad when he was sick, flashing before my eyes in slow motion. It was immediately at that point a wall broke between my brother and me. It is difficult to explain, as my brother and I have always been so incredibly close ever since our parents got a divorce. “Just a glimpse,” the thought of losing him, had been thrown into my visions and all we could do was hold each other’s hand, gripping so tightly with the occasional three pulses to remind one another, I love you. Tears began streaming down my face. How was I supposed to be the strong rock for my brother if I was falling apart right before him?

They told us he would have to be hospitalized for one week, definitely, perhaps even two. We were so stubborn to surrender. It was at this point, however, that we knew we had no choice but to realize it is what it is...this is happening, there is nothing we can do, it is in their hands, we must have faith... A majority of our comfort was inhibited by the help of close friends here in Brux--they were angels sent to our rescue. It was relieving to know someone in the area, as well as reassurance in hearing how advanced the medical care was at the hospital. Not to mention the simple fact that the care he has been receiving would be pennies compared to the never-ending bill had he been having this all done in the states. We were lucky in more ways than one, a blessing in disguise had began revealed before our eyes.

It was through the act of surrendering, admitting to ourselves that we can not always have control of life, that ultimately opened our eyes. We may have the capability to steer our lives in a direction, and it is up to us to write a path that sings true to our hearts...However, it is crucial to know the mere importance in always having control of every little thing. It is a task, unfortunately, many know far too well, and it can be so very detrimental to oneself... All we can control is ourselves, and all we can do is have faith that everything will work out. It always does. All things, beautiful and horrible, will eventually pass. It is only when we are patient and surrender the need to control that we are truly able to experience the beauty in life.

Through time, excellent care, antibiotics, and most of all patience and faith...Martin has been getting better day by day. He was able to have his tube removed--the same one that was attempted to be put in three times---and thus able to finally drink liquids by mouth! A sensation he wasn't able to experience for a week. Sweet, glorious water. He has also recently been given the pleasure of eating whole foods, although I think it will be some getting used to as he hadn't had anything run through and digested in his system for over a week... the body still amazes me.

This experience...this eye-opening, soul shaking, life altering experience...has been a blessing for me and Martin. We both came to Europe, ready to put our guards down and open our hearts to the possibility of having this mind-blowing experience...an attempt at truly knowing ourselves and understanding what our calling in life was. In the beginning of our trip, it was all that we could talk about. "What's traveling all about? Why come to Europe? Why am I here? There's nothing special about this place. I want to be excited about it. I want something BIG to happen. I want to find myself. I want to know...." Our wish became a reality. We discovered the beauty of life.

When life seems to flash before your eyes you are immediately reminded what is most important to you, and just how fragile, how delicate, our life is. It is not a given right, it is a gift, one not to be taken for granted. We have had so many beautiful conversations, deep and moving, ending in tears of sadness, joy, but most of all, realization. Life is short. Far too short to not do what is most important to you. We found a love.

Not an exterior love that is materialistic and existing for the mere attempt of just to exist. A love, so deep, within ourselves. Something that is only found in what may appear at your weakest state, but is truly you at your strongest...the most pure. The most important thing we can do, as humans, is to love. Love ourselves, truly, and honor and respect our hearts. Not only because they are what sends a life flow through our bodies, but because it knows what is best. It is the light that illuminates within us all, if we allow it.

Life is about the relationships we hold, with ourselves, with family, with friends, with lovers...it is not something to fear, but to be willing to share. I have never seen anything so beautiful, than the shining light that bounces back and forth, off one another, between two beings. It is by far,unfortunately, the most feared feeling by individuals, and simutaneously the most rewarding feeling when you welcome it into your life.

If I could only be granted one wish, it would be for everyone to experience this kind of love... To not fear it, but to be open to it. Life is too short to fear what does not hurt us, for in all actuality love feeds us strength and beauty. Slow down. Appreciate the special people who surround you. There is nothing more terrifying than the thought of never having another chance at voicing and displaying the love you hold for someone. There is nothing more rewarding than truly breaking down the barriers, unlocking doors you never knew were closed, and truly sharing a love between another being...another soul to share fears, insecurities, dreams, laughter, tears with... And also remembering the importance of sharing that love with yourself, for if you do not guard that shining light it may burn out.

In the wise and beautiful words of my brother, "Do not fear weakness, fear strength. It is only when we are in our weakest state that our true strength is shown."

It is when we allow the floodgates down, the water to come rushing in...that is when our true beauty is luminescent to the world, and oh what a beautiful site it is to see...

Lièges and Frítes in Brux, oh my!

I sit in our comfortable Sheraton hotel room. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to be staying in a hostel at this point, under these circumstances. Martin has been ill for the past two days, since we left Paris.

We took the train from Paris to Bruxelles, which was far more comfortable than flying on a plane. We had so much more leg room, nicer seats, and it was nice to see the land between the adjoining cities…well as much as I saw, considering I fell asleep for most of the ride. We arrived in Brux to slightly overcast skies and a pleasant temperature. We transferred onto the metro to our stop, “Rugier,” which is quite centrally located. Martin and I wandered around, determined to find waffles, as he had claimed his goal was to eat 62 waffles in our “waffle eating contest.” We finally arrived in the Grand Place area where loads of tourists were wandering about, and the sweet aromas of mixed treats filled the air…and our noses.

First stop, frítes.

Those Belgians sure know how to make their fries! Sauces of choice? Andalouse and Curry Ketchup. MmmmmmmMMMmMmm. (Sidenote: There were also people ordering these sandwiches filled with a mixture of vegetables and meat topped off with, you guessed it, frítes. I must try that before I leave.) After our frítes, we decided it was time to begin our waffle eating contest and top off our bellies with delicious lièges. Oh…My…Goodness!

(Fun factoid: Belgium has two different types of waffles (gaufres). “Brussels” waffles are flat and rectangular, light and airy--resembling the ones that are eaten in the US. “De Lièges” waffles are smaller, sweeter, more dense and have a slightly crunchy, caramelized-sugar crust. aka, Heaven.)

I haven’t had the typical “Belgian waffle,” simply because I’ve had them in the states…so we went for lièges. I’m sure, of course, we’ll try them at least once…but dang, now that I’ve gone liège, I don’t think I can go back. You have the option of putting beautiful toppings of strawberries, bananas, chocolate, butter, syrup, Chantilly, etc…but we went nice and simple, and it was AMAZING. After stuffing ourselves silly, we stopped at a place called “Sensora” to get a fresh fruit smoothie. Nothing like topping off goodness with greatness…and great balls of fire!

Somehow we really lucked out in staying at the Sheraton, it is so luxurious and I must say, quite “fancy-schmancy.” How our nightly rate is so low, I do not know. But I’m not going to ruin it. We are on the 14th floor. ("Bullshit, people on the 14th floor, you know what floor you’re REALLY on. Jump out the window and you’ll die EARLIER!"….if you aren’t familiar with the late Mitch Hedberg, you really should get acquainted.) The view is wonderful from our room, but even more fabulous is the 30th floor. Yes. We are in the tallest hotel in our surrounding area, meaning we can see everything in a 360 degree view. It’s beautiful. Did I mention we also have the option of swimming in the pool at the top floor as well? Mmhmm. Like I said, luxurious. Martin and I watched the sunset after our food babies knocked us out for an hour or so. It was so refreshing to finally be able to see the sun set, as having been in the bigger cities all of the tall buildings make it almost impossible to do so.

It was at this point that Martin’s stomach started hurting more. He blamed it on the cheese, the stinky old, REALLY old, cheese that he bought at the market in Paris. It may have been that he downed almost the entire block in a day, but who knows. He’s been pretty much bed-ridden since yesterday morning. We went to the pharmacy down the road from us, but between the language barrier and our desperation, I’m not sure we got what was needed. We had a house doctor come by later in the evening…again, language barrier? The man spoke English, but he was so quick to diagnose and leave…I hope whatever he gave will help Martin. It hurts me to see him this way. I haven’t wanted to leave the hotel room very much, simply because I’m trying to make him as comfortable as possible. I’m sure the women down at the little café on the first floor think I’m feeding an entire family, what with buying loads of little bottles of yogurt, Sprite, fruit, etc. I did manage to sneak out for a little bit, I was craving more frítes and lièges.

I’m pretty sure my diet, consisting solely of these two items, will make me the happiest lady on Earth. Fat, but happy. I have fallen in love with Bruxelles, simply because of those two delicious treats. Haha. Oh, and the fact that they have drop-dead delicious chocolates and other sweet treats like Stroopwaffle. I may have to buy a new suitcase JUST for all of the items previously noted…for myself. Ok, I might share with others..a little.

We’re supposed to go to Pukkelpop tomorrow, but that depends on how Martin is feeling. We’ll see. A part of me just wants to take him home so he can get better. While I do want to travel, I also worry about getting everything situated before my (strongly possible) move to New York City at the end of next month. Lots to think about, as if I haven’t already had loads on my mind. I’d like to just shut off my brain that thinks about everything for awhile. That’d be nice. A remote control.

Or maybe, just more frítes and lièges will do the trick…

paris, mon cherie.

My brother and I arrived into the lovely Paris on Friday afternoon. It was rather interesting to see the difference between the "country" and "city" sides of Paris (seperated by the plane) while we were still in the air. Sidenote: We flew EasyJet...nice and easy, cheap, like a hooker on...wait a minute. No really though, it was my first time flying EasyJet and quite the experience of walking onto the plane and choosing your own spot. I highly recommend it for those quick hops. :)

We took the RER into the city, transfering onto the Metro to our stop "Pasteur." Don't worry, it didn't smell. We arrived at "Hotel Innova," which had a very friendly gentleman working the front desk. It was kind of a shock to have to change our more familiar Spanish to our not so familiar...whatsoever...French. Bonjour. Merci. Wait, there's more? It is a beautiful language, but very different from the Spanish I had been speaking for almost a week prior to my poor attempt at French.

Our room is lovely. Rustic colors fill the room---gold walls, red blankets, random placements of light oak? Our room is right in front of the street, making it quite noisy but once our windows are closed, it's almost soundproof. Oh, did I mention the bed's are terribly comfortable? It was hard to get used to such nice, squishy beds but I've grown quite accustomed to them...kind of like memory foam.

Our first day or so was spent attempting to recover from time changes, going to bed too late, being exhausted from walking, etc. We would be sleeping in at least til 10am, even later another day. This was sort of a bummer, but it was worth it to get the extra rest. We've had some amazing food, expensive but amazing. On our walk into the heart of Paris, we found this hole-in-the-wall patisserie selling the most beautiful quiche. We ordered a sultry and sweet, naturally. The sweet quiche was heavenly, filled with fig, plum, and apricot. It may have been the cheapest meal we bought, and hot damn was that a warm welcome to Paris. We had our share of sheer exhaustion causing us to stop at the first restaurant we found and therefore needing to pay 52 euros for a meal. Yikes! Happily, however, we finally found out how to order tap water which saved us so much money. It really was worthless to pay 4 euros for a small bottle of Evian water that would be consumed in one swig. "Sir, I'll have 20 bottles of Evian, please."

We were in Paris for a total of four days. I’ve enjoyed staying a bit longer in places in order to really get a feel for it. Obviously you won’t be able to navigate yourself around completely as if you‘re a local, but it’s definitely more familiar and comfortable. You start finding restaurants you like, certain areas, parks, etc. On our first night, after eating our quiche at a local music festival, surrounded by clouds of cigarette smoke (it seems that EVERYONE smokes here) and groups of friends sharing bottles of wine, we wandered the streets attempting to get back to our hotel/find the Eiffel Tower. Without the masses of people, hence it being holiday for almost every local European, it came down to basic instinct and Martin’s “spider like senses.” After weaving in and out of Paris’ streets to a clearing, we were finally able to view the tower and headed straight for it. It is absolutely beautiful--quite a treat to see it light up for the five “leaving you wanting more” minutes every hour.

Other notable sights visited and must see? Cathédrale de Notre Dame de Paris. Hôtel de Ville. Boulevarde du Montparnasse. Champs de Mars. Basilique du Sacrè-Coeur. There was a lot of just wandering, as it was and would have been even more expensive to stay in a hotel, eat meals, AND pay the money to enter museums and such. We attempted, actually, on our last night to go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower--way the hell up there if I do say so myself--but we were too late for the last ride. We then decided we would at least walk up the stairs to the second stage. Word of advice, don’t carry around your guitar (which was played beautifully by Martin earlier along the river at dawn) if there may be the chance you will go into a building, museum, tourist attraction, etc. We were immediately stopped by the security guard who spoke broken Frenglish to us, while simultaneously checking to see if we could enter. Turns out, we couldn’t. Apparently the guitar was a bomb. Or perhaps the strings could have been used to strangle other happy-go-lucky tourists. Even worse, he could walk around with it, hit a small child in the head causing it to plummet to it’s death. We’ll never know, we just got a firm, “NO.”

On a happier note, I found a delicious crêperie (after hearing about the ones Martin enjoyed earlier, as we spent our afternoon solo for our last day in Paris) off of Rue de Montparnasse. AMAZING. The street was overflowing with crêperies, giving me the option to choose one at my discretion. But how was I to know which one was good, I’m not from Paris. I settled on this quaint little “hole-in-the-wall” one by the name of “La Crêperie Bretonne,” claiming to be a crêperie de famille. I sat out on the street, watching locals come by and say hello, tourists drooling over the customers food…if I didn’t feel like I was in Paris before, I definitely did at this point. I ordered the egg, goat cheese, ham and egg crêpe. Absolutely delicious! Their savory crêpes are made with a buckwheat batter, which I particularly like more. I wish cafés in the states would use that idea, it just makes it so much more---savory! Although I was quite full after finishing, I had my eye on the banana nutella crêpe from the very beginning. There was no leaving this place until I had one. I may have been stuffed like a pig--pregnant with another food baby just like in Barcelona--but it was well worth it. I’m craving another one just thinking about it. I highly recommend this crêperie if you’re looking for satisfaction through quantity AND most of all, quality. They even had crêpes with liquor, flambéed…my goodness. Quite the treat if I do say so myself. Perfection for ending my time in Paris.