In Flux: My Year in Review

One day, as I was running, I saw myself completely. As I ascended my favorite hill by my house, encompassed by fields of raspberries, blackberry bushes, trees and tall grass, I inhaled the fresh air and entered a somewhat omniscient state of mind. I became calm and warm with happiness. As I looked to my left, I had the feeling that I was looking out at my past. I saw myself extending far to the left – my past selves running in stride with me. Then, looking to my right, I saw myself again, but my older self. I did not know my future, but I knew that my future selves would continue to run through whatever future lay ahead of me. I waved at them, and we were united for that one moment in time before they disappeared and left me running in the present.

Running is a very peaceful, independent, self-reflective hobby for me, but I have recently lacked motivation to do it as often. I think this is because lately, I've been afraid to look at myself.

As of now, I stand a complete 180 degrees from where I was upon graduating high school. In the past, I found enjoyment in participating in every extra-curricular activity under the sun: the school newspaper, the soccer team, cross country, basketball, Key Club, National Honor Society, the STAND anti-genocide club... the list goes on.

But what I see now is a Julia who is beginning to make decisions and focus on what her life tells her is most important. She is zeroing in on two prominent aspects of her life: journalism, and a relationship.

This entire year, I have felt this change. I have socialized less with friends and made less of an effort to be involved in my community. However, I have learned through trial and error more about multimedia and video production than I have in my entire life. And, unfortunately, trial and error takes time. Classes, filming, identifying the narrative arc, re-recording audio, editing, re-editing... Only a fellow journalism major – and one with multimedia experience at that – realizes how taxing this process can be. Sometimes, I think how ironic it is that the reason I do enjoy journalism is because of the connections it allows me to make with people, but the process of filmmaking is so time-consuming and unpredictable that it often limits the relationships I establish with others outside the editing labs of the journalism school. My hard work this year has landed me acceptance to a study abroad in Uruguay this August, and my first "job" filming an informational promotional video about a Philosophy for Children program at a school in Oaxaca City, Mexico. I want to work abroad in the future. I want to get paid for what I create. I feel successful, but at the same time, I'm sad to see parts of my life that I know I have to give up in order for this success to come true. Where is my time for painting? For new friendships? For reading? For writing? For running? As important parts of me lie dormant, I feel hesitant to step back and look at myself – at who I am becoming.

But now that I'm out of the whirlwind of schoolwork, I have time for self-analysis. So, naturally, it's happening, and I'm realizing that I have not lost as much as I think. My life is transforming, but change in life is constant. I just need to follow the advice of my friend, Miki: "Stay positive."

If journalism is what I love, then it will bring me happiness and lead to fulfillment of any currently missing parts of my life. After working as a multimedia producer for Flux Magazine for two terms, I can see this. As I worked on my piece about a comic book artist, I saw my childhood of drawing, storytelling and artistic creation come to life again. I remembered my series of of picture books about an orphaned girl named Soo-en who lived on her own but still managed to live quite the life, the book my cousin and I co-authored and mailed back and forth between Ohio and Oregon, the maps of the imaginary cities I drew for my characters...

As I filmed ultramarathon runners traversing mountain trails, rising at 4:30 a.m. to capture footage of them running at sunrise, I felt reconnected to the serenity and love for physically challenging myself that I experience through running. Even in the middle of winter, I felt at peace in the frosty forest and inspired to push myself to run outdoors, whatever the weather.

In the spring, my Flux advisor assigned me the task to create a multimedia piece about student couples in committed relationships who live together and how it affects their relationships and college experience. Wow. At first, I was at a loss for subjects who would talk to me, let alone go on camera about their personal lives. Then, slowly but surely, I discovered Paul and Noelle. With their hipster glasses and red hair, they could almost pass as twins. They have lived together for three years, preferring a low-key life together as opposed to the party lifestyle of many college students. They shop for groceries together, cook together, watch TV together, do homework together, sleep together. And it's not weird. It's not.

Which brings me to my second main focus of the year: Taichi.

Over the course of this year, I have gone from an extremely independent, career-focused student to a girl who is so attuned to everything in her life involving and affected by Taichi that it's not even funny. Yes, I'm still focused on my career. Yes, I still get As in my classes. Yes, I still have friends. But Taichi has definitely become my other half. We are always together, sharing the good and the bad. Last week, he took care of my while I was sick. I supported him while he pushed himself harder this term with his courses and continuing to improve his English skills. Together, we talk about a solution to our problem which seems to have no pain-free solution: the fact that in a little over a month, we will be forced to part for an indefinite amount of time.

He will leave and go back to Japan to graduate. Financially, this is the way it has to be. With international tuition at about $40,000 per year at University of Oregon, I understand how ridiculous it is to attend university internationally unless your family has dough. For me, there is no way I'm going to learn Japanese and study abroad in Tokyo in a non-journalism-related program.


We have been dating for eight months. Many people I have talked to admit that a long-distance relationship for an indefinite amount of time sounds too difficult. Why not break up and explore other options? Have the freedom to date other people and, if our paths cross again, then maybe we can pick up where we left off. I'm young, and I have too much of my life ahead of me to get hung up on one person.

Unfortunately, that's not how I think. Maybe there isn't just one significant other out there for each person on earth, but I have found a person I cannot let go. And he doesn't want to let me go either. It will undoubtedly be one of the hardest things I have ever done, and it scares me to not know how I will react to it or try to handle it, but I know I can't break up with him just because he's leaving. I have to be strong and make it work.

That's where Paul and Noelle's relationship touched me. Although they have been best friends for years and are free to stay together as long as they'd like without being separated by the Pacific Ocean, they are not afraid to broadcast their commitment to each other. They have chosen to be together and realized that it works best for them. And the great thing is, they value their careers just as much as their relationship and commitment to each other. Which is what this year has brought me.

I am committed to journalism. I am committed to being with Taichi. Everything else must fall into place around those two things. No, it's not how I saw my life panning out two years ago. I always saw myself as a person open to new experiences and terrible at making decisions and long-term commitments. But, as I travel abroad to Uruguay in August, part ways with Taichi, and continue my studies at University of Oregon without him in the fall, I will have my new experiences. I will have my independence and my friends and my studies. But I will always have in the back of my mind my commitments. And, if I continue to remind myself of these commitments, the two of them will undoubtedly collide. Being with Taichi in the future means doing my best and establishing a promising future career in journalism that will provide me with the freedom (and, most importantly, funding) to see him.

So, as I finally look at myself, I see a Julia who has discovered more about herself and has built a clearer path toward her post-college future. It's something every college student has to do at some point, and it's bound to change anyone. It isn't Julia who is the problem, it's change. And as long as I can accept change and stay positive, I can continue to look at myself in whatever stage of my life I am, have been, or will be.

Word from the Street: Misconceptions about Homelessness

After conducting numerous interviews with Street Roots vendors, staff and supporters, my time filming is almost at a close. I feel that I cannot describe how much I've learned from the Street Roots community during this time, which is why I've held off writing much about it. But I've decided that there are things that have to be said; so, knowing me, I'm going to try.

Mayor Sam Adams, nailing his interview.

I had the opportunity a couple weeks ago to interview Mayor Sam Adams. The interview itself went very smoothly – he's a well-practiced public speaker and gave me magnificent sound bytes that will be easy to incorporate into my video. As a supporter of SR, his responses were no surprise, and I walked away knowing I had a solid interview on hand. The more intriguing part of the day occurred while sitting with Street Roots Executive Director Israel Bayer in Sam Adam's office at Portland City Hall waiting to interview him. I had interviewed Israel before, but, because the mayor was late, he had time to give me more detailed accounts of his experience at SR and involvement in the lives of homeless and low-income Portlanders. He knows the hotspots for drug deals and gang-related fights in Portland because he and his vendors have seen and dealt with them. His job with Street Roots is to help the people help themselves. Vendors' work schedules are in their own hands. (They buy a paper for 25 cents, sell it for $1, keep 75 cents when it's sold.) Thus, he has watched many vendors change their lives through their work; but he also sees the ones who don't. It's painful watching women or children, abandoned by parents and not yet old enough to work, turn to prostitution, drug dealing, and sex trafficking for money. Israel showed me a copy of a pamphlet the Health Department puts out once a month called the Portland Bad Date Line. It gives detailed descriptions of men that women should avoid when working on the streets. Some steal their money and mistreat women while others are HIV positive. Headlines include "Fake Texas Accent", "Poser Cop" and "Powder Blue Mercedes". There is a hotline and e-mail at the bottom where a woman can call (anonymously if she wishes) and report any foul play. A woman most likely is not a prostitute by choice; she falls into this work due to her situation and lack of support, self-respect, and trust. Although gruesome, this underground publication may end up saving her life. The fact that it exists both disgusts and relieves me. Knowing that SR employs mainly men also worries me. Where are the women? Living and working on the streets is particularly dangerous for them, even at Street Roots. If it's difficult for men to get out of their situations, how hard is it for women?

Outside of the Right 2 Dream Too homeless camp in Portland.

I got a glimpse of street life beyond SR when, later that week, I toured a homeless camp on the corner of NW 4th and Burnside. I'd driven past it many times this summer, but never quite understood what it was. Driving by, all one can see is a row of colorful doors with slogans painted on the side lining the street. Besides a slight glance into the opening visible from the street, the inside of the camp is very private. The owners of an empty lot decided to open it up to the homeless of Portland last year as a place for them to stay (more info here: http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2011/10/homeless_camp_in_downtown_port.html). Although it has raised much protest from city officials who have found several ways this establishment breaks the law, the camp still exists. At first, I was a little nervous to enter the camp, especially with a camera. But Israel explained that I was with Street Roots and everything was fine. One woman came up to me and asked me if I wanted to interview her, so I did. Another man offered to give me a tour of the entire camp. I've never had interviews fall so easily into my lap. The man showed me a cluster of giant tents: one for men, one for women, and the other for couples. In the back, there were lines of smaller tents where individuals could bring their own supplies and camp alone. Outhouses are replaced three times a week, and food donations are stored in a sheltered pantry along with cooking supplies for campers to help themselves. There are even a couple old but functioning computers. I think it's fascinating how this establishment seems to work so smoothly. No, it's not the ideal place to live, but the fact that people can ban together to create a place where people of all backgrounds and trying lives can live together so easily is something to consider.

Inside of the Right 2 Dream Too homeless camp.

 
When contemplating homelessness, I think one of the most important things to remember is this: Not all homeless people are the same. The homeless population is as diverse as any other. Each person is an individual with his or her own story. There are some who get along, some who don't; some who make terrible decisions, some who have just found themselves in an unfortunate situation and want to turn it around. It upsets me to hear the generalization "homeless people are just lazy." The best response to that comment I heard during my interviews was from Multnomah County Commissioner Deborah Kafoury. She said, "I'm lazy and I'm not homeless." Although this was meant to be a joke, I think there's some truth in it. I am lazy. Not all the time, but sometimes. Everyone is. There are some homeless people who are lazy, some who aren't. As is the case in any population. The real causes of homelessness lie in larger issues: lack of health care access (remember, not everyone has health care benefits through their work), disabilities (and when you are suddenly diagnosed with cancer and have to sell your house to pay the bills, where might you end up?), domestic abuse (and coincidentally many women victims end up with children whom they cannot afford to support without reliance upon the man), substance abuse (everyone makes mistakes; that doesn't mean they don't deserve a second chance), etc. According to the Medical Examiner Review of Deaths among People Experiencing Homelessness in Multnomah County in 2011, 10 of the 47 people who died on the streets died from health-related causes included diabetes and heart disease. Twenty-one people died of intoxication, and 7 of trauma. The highest percentage of these deaths occurred in the 50-59 age group (30 percent). This would be the group most affected by work-related injuries and least likely to start a new life for themselves, which was the case with many of the vendors I interviewed. "Just getting a job" is easier said than done, especially when it involves combating one or multiple of these major setbacks.

Multnomah County Commissioner Deborah Kafoury in her interview.

 Again, the reason why I believe Street Roots is such a great step forward for these people is that it not only provides them with a means of making money, but it gives them a support system. Think about your own life: how far would you have gotten without your parents, your friends, professors, teachers, church groups? You can't learn about life or be successful without some sort of foundation. The SR office provides a structured, non-threatening place for vendors to come indoors, make friends, have coffee, and feel accepted into a community, provided they don't abuse it. In this environment, amazing things can happen. Yes, there are people who get turned away for starting fights, getting involved in drug deals, and basically breaking their contract with the paper. But for many, it is a place that changes lives. Israel told me about a man who came in looking for work. He was a white supremacist and had a tattoo of a swastika. At first, Israel was nervous about taking him on because there were several African Americans working in the office. However, the man gradually overcame his preconceptions and became close friends with one African American vendor.

Bruce, a Street Roots vendor I interviewed.

Last Friday, I had the chance to attend a Street Roots bi-weekly meeting and see all of the vendors and staff together in one place for the first time. I understood what Israel had told me about the SR environment, but I finally had the chance to see it. And honestly, it made me very happy to watch. Before the meeting started, the vendors (mostly male) stood outside chatting, drinking coffee, and smoking. Some of them asked me what my camera was for, so I told them about my pursuit of a major in journalism. Several of them told me to stick with it and create something great. I smiled and told them thank you. I think they liked giving me advice.

The meeting functioned like a classroom. Vendors sat at tables and lined the walls. They all listened intently as announcements were made and the new paper was revealed. Then, the discussion opened up to include the vendors, each of them taking turns and raising their hand when they had something to say. I sensed no tension or uneasiness. Afterwards, they worked together to unload the papers from the truck outside and lined up to buy their copies to sell. I never realized just how organized SR is, but now that I see it, it makes sense. It has to be well-planned in order to accommodate so many different people.

One man walked up to me and started talking about the paper. I asked him where he sells, and he said he usually works by Portland State University. Then, he looked straight at me and told me he was involved in a robbery there. I wasn't entirely sure if he meant that he himself robbed something, or if he was robbed while he sold papers, but I just nodded and said "oh". I guess I've learned to be much more passive since working with Street Roots. Things that would normally phase me don't. I accept whatever they tell me, whether or not I think it's true or abnormal, because for them it's very true, and very normal. I stood in a room with a variety of people, some of whom have been to prison, dealt drugs, taken drugs, experienced life on the streets, etc. What can I do besides accept it? This is part of their pasts. I have to move past this and get to know them for who they are now. That is what Street Roots is all about.

There is so much more I can say, but there's also so much more I need to know. Homeless life is no longer foreign to me, but it will always be mysterious because I have not experienced it myself. After the work I have done with Street Roots, I'm inspired to expand my knowledge on the subject. Wherever I travel, the homeless will not appear invisible to me. In the United States, homelessness is considered a "problem", but I think it has become accepted more as a way of life. There are local solutions being implemented, as I have discovered in my interviews with Sam Adams and Commissioner Nick Fish, but on a national level, people with the power to bring about change on a larger scale have not yet done so. Thus, until our society acknowledges it as a legitimate "problem" capable of being solved or at least drastically reduced, it will remain a way of life.

Carnivorous Relationships

I'm at that stage again where I've determined that I don't need a boyfriend. Relationships are overrated. Sure, they're nice, but they can get in the way of achieving personal goals and they always leave you with what are, in reality, self-inflicted emotional battle wounds. Who needs that?

Yeah, I know, I'll change my mind eventually. People say I'll find someone, and I want to believe that. But I think everyone goes through this stage of denial. It can be healthy. Thinking about it, I realize it's a lot like going vegetarian (which I have tried once, lasting for about a month).

It takes a lot of discipline. You're a natural-born meat-lover: chicken, beef, pork – you were raised on this stuff. But you never realized how much you craved it until it was gone. You convince yourself that you don't need it. It's something you can do without, and in the long-run, it's probably healthier anyway, right? Cleansing. You say, "I don't need meat. I can survive without it for a little while." You resolve to abstain from it for one year. At first, it's both mentally and physically trying. You go through something like withdrawal symptoms. You fantasize about it, you long for it. Your mouth waters and you have visions of a nice tender pork loin seducing you in your sleep. Cows mooing your name, chickens squawking a soothing lullaby.

But it gets easier. After a year, you stop thinking about meat altogether. You honestly do not need it. You think, "I've gone a year without it. I can go longer." There's nothing calling to you, no reason to start eating it again. Out of habit, you skimp over the meat section at the grocery store. None of it grabs your attention. You are a strong, independent vegetarian.

Until one day, when you find yourself at a restaurant with a friend, or some super hot guy who really doesn't know you all that well. You had no say in your dining venue, but you couldn't say no. You take one look at the menu and gasp. Your palms get sweaty. Reading it over again and again, you frantically search for a meat-free dish. Alas, the restaurant has no vegetarian options!

Instead of saying something, you calm yourself down and think, "I can eat meat just this once. It's not going to kill me." You avoid the steak and hamburgers, deciding to ease into it with a simple chicken quesadilla.

Cautiously, you take your first bite. And suddenly... you're in heaven. Floating on Cloud Nine. Succulent juices burst free in your mouth. Tender chunks of the protein grind between your teeth, the miraculous taste penetrating your senses, igniting the burning desire that lay dormant within you all these years: Once again, you're an omnivore, and you're damn proud of it.

You have found love once again, reunited in this blissful moment. There is no turning back. You say goodbye to your vegetarian days and embrace your changed life.

So here I am, stubbornly resisting, but waiting for the day when I will cave. Just waiting.

Taking Journalism to the Streets of Portland

 "The social change is in your pocket."

This is the slogan I've been playing with in my mind recently as I begin my summer project with the Portland newspaper, Street Roots. In hopes of keeping busy and building my journalism portfolio this summer, I contacted the non-profit organization, asking if I could aid them in any way while developing my video production skills. After meeting with Executive Director Israel Bayer, we decided that I will make short promotional videos for the newspaper explaining what it does and how Portland readers have received it. The paper's mission is to "create income opportunities for people experiencing homelessness and poverty by producing a newspaper and other media that are catalysts for individual and social change." 

Basically, the newspaper functions as a sort of halfway house or in-between for people who have gone through major setbacks in life – mental and physical disabilities, alcohol and drug issues, layoffs – and have taken it upon themselves to turn their lives around. The newspaper is not a handout; vendors must work for their earnings. The newspaper is run by a small staff who writes the majority of the content, designs, and prints the paper. The vendors then buy the newspaper for 25 cents (to cover printing costs) and resell it on the streets of Portland for the suggested price of $1, which allows them to pocket 75 cents per paper. In this way, the producers of the newspaper lose no money, and the vendors must be personally responsible for their sales.

Vendors sell their newspapers to on the streets of Portland to earn money.

Which is why I think this system is so great. I have heard people say too many times that homeless are lazy people. They deserve no welfare and should just "get a job." However, after talking with numerous vendors, I believe that for the most part, the homeless are no more lazy than the average American; they just happen to either possess much less to begin with, and/or suffer from mental handicaps and disabilities. They have not made the best decisions and they admit to that. I asked them what their lowest point in life was, and they all answered "living on the streets." I can't even begin to imagine what that's like. They described it as cold and frightening, not knowing what's coming next. One man named Charlie described how he had always wanted to travel as a child. He laughed because he described that after he became homeless, he traveled all the time: down south to Texas in the winter, farther north to Seattle and Portland in the summer. 

After working at Street Roots, some of them earn enough to find cheap housing and/or afford food. When I asked them what brought them to the streets in the first place, they would stare off into space with a distant look and think for a minute before answering. I assured them they didn't have to answer, but today every one of them did. Drugs, alcohol, loss of jobs. Making bad decisions. Things they weren't proud of. For some of them, Street Roots is a temporary job as they look to find something more permanent. For others who are older or disabled, this is enough for them. It's more than they could have asked for, and they expressed their gratefulness. Personally, I can't imagine a life where the best I could wish for myself is selling newspapers on a street corner everyday. But for them, it's good. It's work. It gives them the chance to interact with customers and form friendships. They are a working part of society, not feeling helpless on the streets. The office provides a place to get warm and use a computer. Their priorities may not match mine, but they are happy and most definitely not lazy.

After conducting the first of my interviews for my project for Street Roots today, I feel much more comfortable talking with these people. Where at first I was a bit apprehensive, by the end of each interview I practically forgot their situations. I felt that I was having a conversation with an individual whose life had just as much value as mine. As much as I didn't want to, I went into the project with a bias. I still have a bias, and I always will, being a middle-class white girl with enough money to attend university. It's natural that I feel very disconnected from any situation these people have had to deal with. However, at least I can recognize this and strive to overcome it as I continue my project. I enjoy conversing with the street vendors and look forward to working with them more.

And I wish them the best of luck because they deserve it.

For more information, visit: http://streetroots.org/

Dentist Office Music

Why do dentist offices play such mind-numbing music?

What type of music was it that was SO BAD? you might ask. That's not the point.

Sitting in the waiting room today, I couldn't even focus on my book it was so bad. How does the receptionist stand it? Wait, she's probably the one who chooses the music... How horrific was her childhood life that her parents never trained her to avoid such melodic oozing?

The sappy, simple-minded words seeped slowly into my ears. Enduring the music felt like I was voluntarily jabbing a knife gradually into my brain. Such agony.

A commercial for the station came on. "Listen to 106.7!" it screamed at me in an annoying megaphone tone. I made a mental note not to ever listen to 106.7.

I thought I'd never be so happy for the dental hygienist to call my name.

Little did I know it would continue in the torture room: mirrors, probes, drills...

and the music.


 

Reception of Ambassadors: A Glimpse Outside the Textbook (1/16/12)

Last week, I was invited to a lecture by the Ambassador of U.S. to Gabon, who is also a University of Oregon alumnus. Unfortunately, I was unable to attend the actual event because I had class at that time; however, I was invited to a reception afterwards by the Honors College, and I attended and actually had the chance to converse with Ambassador Eric Benjaminson's wife, Paula, and the ambassador of Gabon to the U.S., Ambassador Michael Moussa. Currently, I am a Journalism major, but I have recently considered double-majoring in International Studies because I want to travel and learn about other cultures. Thus, my talk with these people who have traveled so much was a great experience to have.

I spoke the most with Paula, who gave me great insight into the life of an ambassador. She explained that she and her husband moved roughly every two to three years. Because of this, she has learned bits of many languages, including Chinese, Russian, French and Spanish. One of the trade-offs of having the opportunity to live in so many different countries is that they cannot take their own furniture with them. New furnishings are provided wherever they go. There are certain items they can box up and take with them, but she said learning to not become so attached to material items comes with the job.

When I mentioned I wanted to travel to India at some point, she told me about her experience living there and being the only blond woman around. Her job was to issue visas, so she said it was difficult because people could easily identify her and attempted to ask her about the status of their visa anywhere she went. She talked about wanting to go on walks sometimes, but feeling like she could not leave her house without having some work-related interaction. This, she said, is something to consider as a Westerner living in a foreign country. Especially as a woman.

Paula also explained that when the U.S. government provides the ambassador with a job to be completed in a certain nation, he must comply, even if he disagrees with what it may entail. This, of course, was fairly vague, as she could not give me a specific example, but it was also a thought that had never occured to me. Would I be able to put my personal beliefs aside to carry out a command I could never agree with? I asked Paula how a job like this might differ from one such as the Peace Corps, and she answered that working for the Peace Corps would involve more interaction with people affected by poverty and how to solve issues such as hunger, water quality, or education. The ambassador's job deals more with international relations between governments, which also has a great effect on society, just in a different way. Since she knows several people who have served in the Peace Corps, she was able to give me great information about the differences, which may aid me in deciding what kind of path I might want to take if I end up working internationally in the future.After talking with Paula, I had the chance to speak briefly with Ambassador Michael Moussa from the Republic of Gabon in West Africa. He now works in D.C. and enjoys his job. He came to the U.S. in his early 20s without hardly any support, but worked hard to eventually become the Ambassador of Gabon to the U.S. His main piece of advice was to persevere. He said that if we desire to travel, then make it happen. If we have our eye on a job we think is unattainable, do all we can to attain it. He ended by telling the students who were listening to him that if any of us ever wanted a summer internship, contact him. This alone was intriguing, as I never imagined the Ambassador of Gabon would say this to a group of college students.

I am glad I had the opportunity to at least attend the reception. I find myself thinking about the advice these two people gave me, and it lies in the back of my mind as I continue my studies. It was a nice glimpse outside the textbook.

We Met in a Cemetery (9/19/09)

We met in a cemetery.

            I was alive, she was dead.

            I saw her name printed on the gravestone in front of me: Hannah Georgia Patterson. Aged 52 when she died, and the words on her headstone, “loving mother and dearest wife,” were the only things I knew about her.

            As with any grave.

            But what drew my attention to this particular gravestone, other than the beautiful, vivid flowers ensconced around the stone, was the weeping boy beside it.

            We met in a cemetery.

            We were both very much alive.

            As I walked down the dirt path through the cemetery that day, I felt a sense of calm and peace that I knew I needed. Life can get that way sometimes—stressful, evoking your blood to its boiling point, pushing you to your limit—and the cemetery counteracts that for me.

            I breathed in the sweet air; some fragrant flower happened to be at its best, and the sun shined just right through the leaves of the trees, as if they were stained glass.

            The green glow of leaves gleamed down upon the boy as I approached.

The first thing I liked about him was the way he didn’t try to hide his tears from me, although I was a complete stranger. The second was the ingenious way he had laid out the flowers. They were patterned blue, lavender, yellow, pink, and stacked so they formed a sort of topless pyramid around the base of the stone.

I don’t know why I sat down by him. Most times, I would leave someone to honor their loved ones in peace. But I sat down, right there in the grass next to him, and that was that.

And, before either of us had said anything, I started to cry, too.

It’s a funny thing, when you cry alongside someone. You both share a feeling of deep sorrow, emotion, compassion. To cry with someone is to let them see into your heart, into your feelings, your mind. Nothing is hidden, you just cry.

After awhile, he told me his name was Nolen Patterson.

It was his mother who was buried there. She had died of cancer two months ago. He missed her very much.

He told me she was a great mother. She always put him and his brothers first. She packed their lunches, told them stories, helped them with homework, watched them grow up. She enjoyed traveling, rain walks, the ocean, wildlife, and painting.

And this is the first connection I felt to her. Painting.

I studied the grave with great consideration, then reached into my bag.

The paints emerged: brown, black, gold, indigo, crimson, emerald. They squeezed onto my palette and expanded at the tip of my wet brush. Onto the paper they washed, the vibrant colors, calmly painting the flowers, the stone, the words…

We all came from different angles of humanity, different times, different planes of existence even. And we met here, turned to the same page, and developed an understanding so simply complex, it was almost surreal.

We met in a cemetery.