Metanoia

Metanoia is my new favorite word. I've written it on notebooks, and used it as a mantra to my ever expanding life. "a fundamental change of mind and heart". This might be the only word to describe my inner space as of late.
          In one of my classes we have been discussing how it is grace from the a divine mystery that leaves room in our souls for change. In whatever way this concept translates to your understanding of life, it exists. It is seen throughout our lives in various but always significant degrees. It is both the seed of forgiveness and the growth received from acceptance. Grace is in our sorrow as the brief experiences keeping us from utter despair. It is seen in our joys, in our connections with our community and is cultivated by our relationships with others. This often unseen gift is what gives us strength.
         I was coherent enough this morning to watch the winter sky turn from black to pink. I watched from my bed as I was blessed with a dawning of a new day, and I am thankful. Grace.
       With a thankful spirit i see my life has continuously provided me with moments that can only be described as surreal. What is inspiring me, and changing me is not something I am ready to fully share. These are days of which words cannot fully explain. So please pardon the metaphors as they are the only way I know to make sense of it all.
         Moments of clarity are spreading forward like the light of a new day. That is to say I would be crazy to try and capture it. In vain I'm reaching out to slow it down, but all I can do is be present to the mystery as it unfolds. Grace.
           It is familiar, and yet unlike anything I have seen before. Both full of beauty and a nearly paralyzing fear which trudges ahead of impending change. If I examine it closely, it stems from the realization that everything is finite. Though what is life without the acknowledgement of an ending? Beauty would be missed, if infinity assumed. This has led to an honesty within myself that I've never experienced. A return to a mixture of self assurance and insecurity. This is new. This is surreal. This is grace.
          You know that game you play when you are silent with yourself? The magic question. "What would I do if I won the lottery?" or "If my life were a script, how would I write it?" My scene is playing out and all I can say is when the future you want is within your grasp you better leap for it. If I fall flat on my face, I'll get back up. Because I have to believe our experiences are what shape us for the better. All of this is created by listening for my cue. Embracing metanoia. Embracing grace.

-Abp 2016





(Metanoia definition acquired from Dr. Gerry Fialkowski)

Maid of Honor speech

Ladies and Gentleman,
If I could have your attention please. I know I’ve already had my chance to speak once today, but I’m wearing a few different hats so I humbly request you allow me just a few more words. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Ed’s former roomie, and long-time friend. But much more importantly, I am this beautiful, vivacious bride’s baby sister.

 Donna and I did not grow up together chronologically. Our family was not blessed to have had the chance to watch Donna take her first steps as a toddler, but we were blessed to cheer her on through every college semester. There were many times she could have walked away defeated, but that isn’t her style. Words don’t express how proud of her I am.

We didn’t get to hear her speak her first words. But we have been blessed by 20 years of encouragement, devotion and unconditional love spoken from her mouth. I do not know another human as selfless to the people she loves.

She has nursed me through no less than 3 broken hearts, countless hangovers, dental surgery, school decisions, and everything in between. This lady right here, has been there for me with love, and laughter in a way that only a big sister can be. She has been at my side, had my back, and more than once given me the shove that got me going in the right direction.

           

            I’d be remiss if I did not mention the man at her side. When I first moved to the metro area, I often found myself sitting next to my roomie with some Yuenglings, eating sausages, laughing and thinking “Man, I wish I knew a woman for Ed”. Funny how life works.

            I think we’d lived together about a year when I came home one day, rummaging through the kitchen before going away again when Ed said “I’m taking your sister to a baseball game.” Having been sufficiently informed on the situation ahead of time, I said “Oh yea? Are you taking my sister to a baseball game, or are you taking my sister to a baseball game?” To which he replied it was “probably the second one.”

From that day forward I never doubted for a second that they would end up here. He is the yang to her yin. She is the fiddle to his bow. And to this, I can say only three words. Raise Glass Donna, Ed- Check. Check. Mate.

And So We Weep

                        And So We Weep

Will history remember us in years to come?

Those who fought to be heard in the face of injustice.

Those who acknowledged the cries of our neighbor.

The persecuted, the lessor.

Blessed is he who is persecuted…

Are the historians going to record there were those of us who wept?

 Have I not wept for the one whose life is hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?

Will they know we felt the pain, the fear, the disappointment of the now, and the future.

Will our grandchildren know that this tore at our very souls?

Or will history record the day we gave our lives to those who ran on platforms of fear.

To a man who stands on bigotry, and greed.

Privilege and ignorance.

What of our littles who look to us with tiny eyes and learn that they don’t matter? Because they call the divine “Allah”.

Because their skin is brown.

Because they speak Spanish.

Arabic.

Will they write of us? Or are we destined to be remembered for fear?

Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses...

Will they know we wept, or will they see us building walls instead of reaching out?

Will they know?

And for this I weep.

For our women.

For our families.

For Justice.

For Equality.

For my country that I love.

For a world that was counting on us.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

-Abigail B. Parker November 9th, 2016

My Cousin. Myself.

I’ve watched you struggle my whole life
now understanding how much strength it takes to stand.
Brilliance with its price is how we are described.
We are the thinkers,
We are artists.
Those who feel too much.
Who feel broken,
Who feel the weight of a scarlet letter branded on our chest
In our hearts.
Who feel the darkness breathing down our neck.
How much strength it takes to just stand up
To take that breath.
To move that brush.
There are days when the sky is painted with music just for our ears.
When beauty can be found in every object, every person, every molecule.
With the question always of
“Am I really happy? Or am I manic?”
Always questioning.
Rarely knowing for sure.
What is real, and what is real in our heads.
My Cousin.

My cousin who helped shape the path I have led.
My cousin who dances to that drummer that no one else hears.
The artist. (Everything is better yarn bombed)
The Mother. (We’ve all been your babies at one point or another)
The Realist. (If its smaller than a cat it goes in the trash can.)

Desciple.

Wife.

Niece.

Cousin.

My Cousin.

Myself.

looking back before looking ahead

I have exactly 30 days until the digits on the analog clock that is my life turn from twos to threes. How is it possible one person can accomplish so much in one decade? It doesn't seem like yesterday as some might claim. It seems like a lifetime ago.
 Ten years ago I was taking English classes while working in a diner waiting for my life to begin. I couldn't fathom that it was moving, just slow to start. It was a lifetime ago when Lear asked me to profess my love. When I discovered the joys of Sam Cooke, and the honor that lies within a man's name. The Bard and I were introduced as I learned technique, terms and theory. Never imagining what I was really learning was empathy. Knowing what it is to be human is the mark of a good actor. How to perform it was secondary.
    It was a lifetime ago I walked to rehearsals in the snow, among the light of Carver hall. Making friends in a space that no longer exists except within our minds. I've walked the streets of London, drove a car through County Wicklow, became hopelessly lost in Paris. Hung over ancient cliffs with my best friend and drove thousands of miles just myself and my silly old bear. I have met so many people and made so many friends. Some are here for awhile, some were temporary but all just as necessary for my story to unfold.  Funny how that works.
    I have known the weight of grief, the height of joy and the peaks and valleys that lie between. I am not ashamed to say I have embraced each emotion with wild abandon. Some perhaps for far too long. But each pain and joy is a bristle on the brush I paint my life with. A picture that comes into focus the longer I work away at it. I have lived more in the past ten years then many individuals do in their entire lives. I often stop and think how incredibly fortunate I am.
    Being a "woman of a certain age", I get asked a lot if I'm dating anyone and the answer is yes. Sometimes we stay in and watch netflix, sometimes we go out and drink good wine when my paycheck allows it. Most recently we spend our time writing papers and reading text books. We have excellent taste in friends, make plans as it suits us and sleep sideways in the bed. I'm dating myself and it has been pretty serious for awhile now. I can say with a happy heart that I have never loved her more than I do right now.  30! Oh how excited I am to see you! We are starting it off right. A cross-atlantic visit from a VIP, Orlando to finally attend Hogwarts with some of the most important people in my world,  my last summer working with three of my most favorite children. Camogie matches, bike rides, camping trips and two classes that are going to kick my butt. Beyond the immediate future, there are endless possibilities. An open road map with my faith as my compass, a fluffy cat and a silly old bear to bring up the rear. Welcome 30, we're going to have such lovely adventures!