I've been thinking a lot about faith
they say that "you gotta have faith"
but faith in what?
faith in a screwed up government system?
faith in yourself?
faith that there is some sort of face in the sky?
if you think about it, faith is a really messed up thing. its just trying to believe. actually no, its believing you believe even when the odds are stacked against you.
I often find myself in front of my stove thinking of my grandmother
maybe its because there is a rose scented saint candle (of st jude, of course) right there in front of me. maybe its because it still surprises me that when I'm cooking, I'm actually pretty good at it.
I often think to myself what my life would be like if i were just to be in front of my stove all day-- often how i remember my grandmother. She had 8 kids of her own to feed, and everyone else's in the neighborhood that she was babysitting. i don't think she ever had a moment of silence. I remember her waking up at the ass crack of dawn (literally she always rose in time to see the sun come up). I think that is when she watered her plants, maybe. and i remember that she would sing to them. well, more like hum-- she was always humming. when she was ironing, when she was folding laundry, when she was cooking... Sometimes if she was feeling really moved/into it she would keep humming, stop what she was doing and grab you to dance with her. she was round but she was swift and she was always in step with the tune. she would spin you out, and she would laugh, then go back to her work.
my life is so vastly different from hers. and the thing is, i don't know if thats such a good thing. what if life just consisted of waking up, taking a moment or two for yourself (in mexico she would walk down a dirt road to a small church on the outskirts of town every morning), gathering the freshest ingredients you could afford (often from her garden or having to walk to the store and carrying the groceries back), and then starting to cook. then while the food was being made taking down a load. alternating like this until the food was done, served, and a cup of coffee quickly to yourself. Then still alternating between laundry (which was hung outside to dry), and cleaning the house room by room. trying to keep the kids out of the way either by keeping them with her, putting them to work, or making them go out and play (or watch a movie on a rainy day) or make them take a nap.
was that such a bad life? doing things the right way-- god's way so no cheating or stealing but instead respecting, teaching, and helping-- so that when she died the line was literally out the door? the funeral home so jam packed that there couldn't be any other services that day?
I think in everything she did, she prayed. maybe it wasn't in actual prayers (though i highly think it was because she was raised in the way of praying the entire rosary and making mandas-- prayer promises-- and such). maybe praying was her way of meditating, of keeping calm, of finding some sort of solace through it all.
I don't know if she would be proud or ashamed of me at this point. i live with my boyfriend, but am not married. I have no children, nor do I ever see myself with child and am more than ok with it. Sure I went and got a degree... but I am not utilizing it. I like to bask in silence when she never had any (except maybe the hour or so when she was awake and everyone else was asleep).
I look at my two only house plants and beam that not only are they still alive, but they are growing. I may not have any children, nor as many pets as she did, but I have a fish, a lizard, and a cat that all depend on me to feed them and clean up after them (or in Kitty's case, keep things neat so he doesn't get into them and mess things up). I don't clean my house every day, nor dust on a regular basis, but I do find that I like things clean rather than dirty (which if you would have told me this 10 years ago I would have laughed coldly in your face). I like to stand in front of my stove and make things knowing that not only will they taste good, but at least I can share it with someone. And now that I'm older, I realize that when I stand in front of my stove, I start to feel zen--like I'm actively meditating. I think that I am learning to pray.
but faith in what?
faith in a screwed up government system?
faith in yourself?
faith that there is some sort of face in the sky?
if you think about it, faith is a really messed up thing. its just trying to believe. actually no, its believing you believe even when the odds are stacked against you.
I often find myself in front of my stove thinking of my grandmother
maybe its because there is a rose scented saint candle (of st jude, of course) right there in front of me. maybe its because it still surprises me that when I'm cooking, I'm actually pretty good at it.
I often think to myself what my life would be like if i were just to be in front of my stove all day-- often how i remember my grandmother. She had 8 kids of her own to feed, and everyone else's in the neighborhood that she was babysitting. i don't think she ever had a moment of silence. I remember her waking up at the ass crack of dawn (literally she always rose in time to see the sun come up). I think that is when she watered her plants, maybe. and i remember that she would sing to them. well, more like hum-- she was always humming. when she was ironing, when she was folding laundry, when she was cooking... Sometimes if she was feeling really moved/into it she would keep humming, stop what she was doing and grab you to dance with her. she was round but she was swift and she was always in step with the tune. she would spin you out, and she would laugh, then go back to her work.
my life is so vastly different from hers. and the thing is, i don't know if thats such a good thing. what if life just consisted of waking up, taking a moment or two for yourself (in mexico she would walk down a dirt road to a small church on the outskirts of town every morning), gathering the freshest ingredients you could afford (often from her garden or having to walk to the store and carrying the groceries back), and then starting to cook. then while the food was being made taking down a load. alternating like this until the food was done, served, and a cup of coffee quickly to yourself. Then still alternating between laundry (which was hung outside to dry), and cleaning the house room by room. trying to keep the kids out of the way either by keeping them with her, putting them to work, or making them go out and play (or watch a movie on a rainy day) or make them take a nap.
was that such a bad life? doing things the right way-- god's way so no cheating or stealing but instead respecting, teaching, and helping-- so that when she died the line was literally out the door? the funeral home so jam packed that there couldn't be any other services that day?
I think in everything she did, she prayed. maybe it wasn't in actual prayers (though i highly think it was because she was raised in the way of praying the entire rosary and making mandas-- prayer promises-- and such). maybe praying was her way of meditating, of keeping calm, of finding some sort of solace through it all.
I don't know if she would be proud or ashamed of me at this point. i live with my boyfriend, but am not married. I have no children, nor do I ever see myself with child and am more than ok with it. Sure I went and got a degree... but I am not utilizing it. I like to bask in silence when she never had any (except maybe the hour or so when she was awake and everyone else was asleep).
I look at my two only house plants and beam that not only are they still alive, but they are growing. I may not have any children, nor as many pets as she did, but I have a fish, a lizard, and a cat that all depend on me to feed them and clean up after them (or in Kitty's case, keep things neat so he doesn't get into them and mess things up). I don't clean my house every day, nor dust on a regular basis, but I do find that I like things clean rather than dirty (which if you would have told me this 10 years ago I would have laughed coldly in your face). I like to stand in front of my stove and make things knowing that not only will they taste good, but at least I can share it with someone. And now that I'm older, I realize that when I stand in front of my stove, I start to feel zen--like I'm actively meditating. I think that I am learning to pray.