Thursday, June 21, 2012

Get lost in Beauty

I woke up this morning, much like I wake up every morning: my voice crackly and hoarse as I came alive, my hair a riotous mane of tangles standing on top of itself--bangs piled high in tufts all around my head, think a blonde mushroom.
In fact, side note, my hair is so troubling in the morning that I often braid it before bed to try and tame it, to no avail. And I recently told a friend about this taming tactic, and how it still is an explosive mess. His response:
"I guess that means you can't be tamed." Bingo. If my hair is a metaphor for my life, then I love it. Bring it on jungle woman. Bring. It. On.
Anyway, digression. Back to the story.
The first thing I do in the a.m., like always, before I can think or blink is stumble toward the coffee machine. Coffee, coffee, coffee and then I can be.
I grabbed my Vanilla Creme Brulee, black, already made--God love Jen(my new housemate, or rather I'm hers)--a banana, and a petite chocolate granola square and settled in near my laptop for my new morning ritual of perusing the world wide web for jobs and things of note and flipping through my books and daily devotional.
In a matter of minutes, it became wildly apparent to me that today was a day for beauty. Painful, riotous, overwhelming beauty. I mean, right from the start there were so many striking words, songs, conversations, people, vying for my attention and flitting through my brain that I felt like I was in a beauty tidal wave, twisting and turning with no real desire to reach the surface.

Here is a compilation of all the ways in which I was bowled over today:

This picture. This perfect freaking picture. I loved it, sir.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:

-Rudyard Kipling
One of my favorite poems and most randomly a part of this verse popped into my head, so I searched and found.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

-Paul McCartney
I was running down the stairs and my mind began to sing this song. Out of nowhere.

There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't sit still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.

-Robert Service
I found an old business card in my camera case with parts of this poem scrawled on it in my handwriting. This is only a part of the poem. Do read the rest of both these poems.

"I will bless you and keep you, making My Face shine upon you."
I read this in my daily devotional and my body shook a little with my exuberance. My dad used to come into my room and say this prayer to my brother, sister and I every night when we were little. Reading it after such a long time, made me unspeakably happy.

I got incredibly lost on the way into the city today, but on my detour jostling on the train far off from New York, I witnessed a most wide and breathtaking river. Rivers never cease to amaze me. If getting lost provided me that one extra view, that I might not have seen otherwise in my life, it was worth it. Beauty is never wasted. That and I always get to a point of hilarity with my mishaps where I find sheer delight in the ridiculousness of the situations I find myself in. Like the fact that at one point today I contemplated that I might be murdered. It was a very brief moment. But I did it. I went there.

And then... I found a place that topped the mermaid apartment. In Park Slope, Brooklyn. We're talking first string here. I tried not to dance and or yelp with euphoria as the owner, sweet, sweet darling that she was, showed me room after room that literally wooed me with their complete Cassandra-esque perfection.

Clawfoot tub. Check.
Built-in wall bookshelf. Check, check.
My own dressing room, with old-fashioned wood sliding doors. Yeah, not kidding.

After we sat down in the dining room she asked if I had any questions. I did.

"When can I move in?"

She slid the paperwork over.
And I wait a week to find out.

Instantly I went into prayer mode upon exiting the brownstone. Um, yes it is my dream apartment. I walked down the steps and let out a nervous sigh. I wanted it too much. And I know what happens when I want something so much it scares me to my bitter bones. It could either go unbelievably well, or I'm crushed. I felt my high starting to wilt as I boarded the subway to make my way back to New Jersey. But as the night wore down and I met up with a friend where we cheers-ed to Park Slope and giggled our way through dinner, I felt my hope bubbling up to the surface again. And then I remembered some beautiful words I heard the other day.

There is no such thing as false hope. Hope is the one constant that everyone needs. So hopeful I shall remain. And if nothing else, I had a beautiful day.


Kerry Ann said...

My dear Cassandra...I love reading your blog! Cheers to beauty dear friend.

Lex said...

All of this was glorious...but my favorite part? That little bit just there at the end about hope. What a powerful beacon in all circumstances. I'll be praying that you're little brownstone beauty ends up in your hands. I'm so proud of you for taking on such an enormous dream...the sky is the limit my friend. And I can't wait to see all the wonderful colors you'll paint it as you ascend!

Anonymous said...


Shawnee said...

that apartment sounds dreamy. be still my heart. crossing my fingers for you!