Survivor Saturday: I Believe

Something that I worry about a lot, and ask questions about a lot is if I’m going to recover to everything I was before the accident. This post was originally posted on May 11, 2012, and I still believe all of these things. When I read it, I was encouraged. I stopped worrying so much.

I believe words are powerful. I believe the things we say matter. I believe you can say the same thing two different ways and you can have effectively said two very different things.

I don’t believe the world is getting dumber. I don’t believe in apathy. I don’t believe that my generation has less of an appreciation of fine art than my parents’ generation.

I believe fine art is different for everyone. I believe that’s okay.

I believe in God and love and bagels.

I believe ideas accumulate inside of us and if we don’t get them out (through writing, painting, performing, dancing, laughing) then there is no room for new ones.

I believe Real Living hurts. I believe it aches the way a good workout does. I believe you always need a Gatorade after Real Living.

I believe in plans and forms of fate and connections.

I believe in serendipity.

I believe in this woman named Sarah whom I met sitting at a bar who told me that haircutting was like engineering.

Survivor Saturday: Despite Lack of Knowledge

From May 1, 2013

Surviving has taught me that I don’t know everything about life. Life itself is a kind of hill. 

So many of the things I have known are other things that I do not know.

For instance, the hill. It has always been the symbol of the free, of nature, of the earth. It has stood in stark contrast to the perverse civilization of Court Street. It has provided a safe haven for underage drinkers–haven because away from police, safe because it’s difficult to binge drink on a hill that you have to walk down in the dark.

And so, all this time, I have known the hill as operating outside of systems.

Today, I was sitting on the hill, enjoying one last sunset, and I noticed cigarette butts and broken glass. The hill has always been something I do not know.

But it did not change the magnificence of the sunset.