Each Day Is a Day To Hold Gratitude For Our Environment

I have spent a lot of time looking up. Looking up to my Grandma Carole, who has taught me the wise traits of courage, compassion, and living with intention. Looking up at the freckles in the sky, closing my eyes and making secret wishes on a silent August night. Looking up to my future self, making decisions which benefit her, and building a life of fulfillment. But, I haven’t spent enough time looking down. At the soil beneath my feet. At the ladybugs which trace the petals of emerald clovers. At the house sparrow which chirps behind an amber sun’s rise. My gaze has been focused on what is next. The next task to add to my list. The next class I have to attend. Without even realizing it, I have engaged with my life so quickly that I can’t fully appreciate the simple memories. Like the first sip of my matcha tea on a quiet Tuesday morning. The beauty in the solitude of getting myself ready for the day, is an act gone unappreciated. We have all been shaped to focus on the next. But what about, the now. Even acts deemed as trivial hold value and hold beauty. Waking up under a smokey quartz sky, where our gaze is saturated under a milky hue, is beauty. Our peripheral lens devoids us from seeing all that is. And all that is becoming. There is beauty in silence, in forgiveness, and in every aspect of our natural world. Many people say snow is only beautiful the first day. Afterwards, it becomes a cloudy mush. This is all very true. But, the process of snow, from its falling to its melt, is a cycle full of beauty. When the ground warms and roots begin to sprout. It becomes clear that our season is changing. But let us not forget. That our natural world is sentient and is in constant motion. Each day is a day to hold gratitude for our environment. The more time you spend in our environment, the more you will seek to protect it. This is something my environmental science teacher told our class, the day after we took a trip to an organic asparagus farm. Many classmates viewed the trip as trivial and with unseriousness. But at the end of the trip they enjoyed the sunshine and dipping our feet in the streambed. We quickly realized our teacher was right. Humans instinctively want to protect what they love. Growing up in New Hampshire I naively believed that everyone cared about the environment. What is there not to care about? But in reality, I was just so lucky to be outside all the time. I had a childhood of exploration which has led me to become an adult of exploration. I am in the Bay Area for a year and I have found pieces of New Hampshire here. Driving to Santa Cruz on highway 17, the trees blanket mountains in deep waves. I quickly announced to my friends “This looks like home!” I eagerly rolled down the window, allowing the wind to dance through my hair, and closed my eyes. My perspective has been defined by my admiration of our natural world. I find New Hampshire’s beauty in everything.

My Birthday Always Makes Me Cry

My birthday always makes me cry. I guess it’s the realization of getting older, the pressure of planning a celebration, and the emotional chaos that follows. Ever since I can remember my birthday I can remember the feeling, that feeling. It is unique to one’s birthday. Where you just feel too many things. But this year, I decided to begin a new tradition for myself. That is, I will do one thing just for myself on my birthday. This year I chose to just reflect quietly when I woke up. I let my eyes rest and pictured a carousel of my many memories of eighteen. The images circled my head in twinkling layers, in sheets of film. I pictured being a bystander to my life. I pictured myself laying in the grass, with my hair blanketing the earth. Myself swaying gently with my guitar rested in my lap. My tears dripping down my cheeks like dew runs to the end of a leaf. My soft grateful gaze as I sat on a picnic blanket surrounded by the comfort of my friends. I pictured myself experiencing life, as it should be lived. With defeat, gratitude, and joy. And when I opened my eyes my cheeks widened. My day had begun. This was my first birthday without my family. I got sent the most wonderful present by my Grandma. Paints, brushes, and materials for embroidery. I had mentioned that my next hobby would be to learn how to embroider. She had listened to me. My Mom and Grandma sent me the most lovely cards. I felt the love. But that uneasy feeling was still lingering in my chest. I was eager for my birthday to be over. And I wasn’t even sure why. I went out to dinner with my friends and for one of the first times I felt so safe. I had found emotional security, laughter, and fun within these girls. When I returned to my dorm my friends had the most thoughtful gifts waiting for me. A list of nineteen reasons why they liked me, handwritten notes, flowers carefully crafted. Time and thought. Someone put time and thought into me. As I am getting older I am learning to accept the love people give me. To reckon that I deserve love. I never realized I could mean so much to anyone. I understand that birthdays are challenging for many people. So pause and celebrate yourself. Close your eyes and hold gratitude to all the effort you have put in. Reflect on what each month of your existence taught you. Even if your year wasn’t what you wanted, or something could have been different or improved. You were changed in the process. I have never liked the notion that life is linear. That is, every year you are expected to become better. But sometimes it isn’t about reinvention at all. But accepting, embracing, and loving who you are now. There are so many books dedicated to finding, achieving, and maintaining happiness. But let me simplify it for you. Have your energy radiate to anyone and everything around you. Practice gratitude. Set a new personal tradition. And be curious. My adolescence has been defined by pessimism and I have worked to reframe my life. Even my birthday, which has held such anxiety, has become a day of reflection for me. Now, I don’t ever doubt that I am deserving of love. And you shouldn’t either.

My Guitar & Me.

With my legs buried beneath layers of warm sand, my body sways like bergamot bends to a breeze. I feel as the tempo of my guitar beats like the rhythm of my heart. As I watch waves become gentle ripples, I begin to close my eyes. Holding on to the last drops of summer sun. My most precious memories of singing soft tunes channel such solace.I used to think I wasn’t good at anything. I was never great at math, I wasn’t the best violinist, or the best writer. I simply was. And that never seemed like enough. Everything I did was always with so much effort that I questioned if I was good at all. I wanted to be a natural. Teaching myself guitar, then piano, changed everything for me. I have returned to music in solitude or in company. Three thousand miles from home, or not. My guitar comes with me. And I sit and I sing. My innate desire to learn has often been limited by self doubt. Music revealed individuality but also self-assurance. I stopped thinking I couldn’t do something, and I just did it. My guitar reminds me who I am, that my passions are not to be defined by others, but defined by me. I have longed for a Talia absent of self doubt. I didn’t just find her, she found me.