a stream of words [six]

/one./

//two.//

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in order to find out

what number this 

"stream of consciousness" post was

(it's six, by the way, but you already knew that, 

if you're reading this.

when i was getting ready to prepare this post, 

i did not.) 

i looked through a few of the past years 

to find the last one i did

and, in doing so, 

i stumbled upon words

and times

and events

that i've forgotten about. 

not that they are totally gone from my memory

(the blog posts help me to remember), 

but because

they feel like they are from another world, 

another timeline. 

parties, 

trips to nyc, 

people in stadiums, 

baseball games

unmasked 

close together 

sharing germs

sharing breath 

sharing moments with strangers. 

i was reminded 

that in late 2019 

early 2020

i was feeling more of myself again 

feeling more at home 

in my skin 

with my mind 

with my program. 

and. 

the pandemic has taken many things away 

from all of us 

in different ways, 

different degrees. 

[it is the same storm, 

but we are in different boats.] 

and for me

it has taken away

what might have been 

some of the most interesting, 

fulfilling, 

and looked-forward-to parts 

of my phd years

(the opportunity 

to delve in the archives, 

to travel and live abroad again). 

i remember

one of my advisors saying to me in january 

(when i was applying for research funding) 

that she was envious 

that to go back to those stages of research 

--of travel, trial, and error--

they were good parts of the process, 

of the program. 

but now. 

now, it's uncertain when those opportunities will come. 

time marches on,

but the clock to my funding

has not stopped. 

so much is uncertain. 

i do what i can

and pray for openings

for the healing of the world 

(for both altruistic and selfish reasons). 

but the waiting is unbearable at times. 

and i know

there are people 

who have it worse. 

that i know. 

but it is still hard. 

it is still unfair. 

i've been feeling burnt out this week. 

i finished teaching a class online, 

and this week i have felt the exhaustion 

as my body and my mind 

just needed a break. 

sam was gone during part of this week 

(back in utah for a friend's wedding) 

and so

after i finished grading

i found myself watching bbc period dramas

little dorrit

tess of the d'urbervilles 

little women (which was not bbc, 

but rather pbs). 

and. 

although it was a different week 

than what i usually do, 

it was nice. 

necessary, even. 

i could have written more

i could have transcribed more documents

there are so many things i could have done

but instead

i watched some bbc period dramas

to try to recover

from burn out. 

one of my pandemic projects

(i know, i know--

my dissertation should be my 

true pandemic project--

but tell me how i'm really 

supposed to get that done 

when i can't get to any of 

the archives i need?) 

has been to write a sort-of

memoir

[more of like a mosaic]

of my twenties. 

it has been good to remember. 

also been good to try 

to synthesize. 

what i will do with it 

i don't know

but. 

it will be there for me

if anything else. 

to remember how i've grown

changed

and deepened. 

i've been thinking a lot about history lately 

its uses

and abuses. 

this summer has given me a lot to think about 

in regards to that. 

and

although right now

i am ruminating on those thoughts

before they germinate

i do take issue 

with people thinking that history 

is memory 

or that memory 

is nostalgia 

or that history is calcified, 

or that history is theology--

commandments set in stone. 

there is so much we don't know. 

so much 

we just don't know. 

history is a tool. 

it is interpretative. 

and it can be a handmaid

to good or evil. 

"history may be servitude, 

history may be freedom." 

i have been thinking 

recently

frequently 

of a poem by the brilliant writer, 

tracy k. smith 

and her thoughts on history 

in her poem "new road station"

and if you, dear reader, 

and i were sitting together

i would take out my phone 

and find this poem

and share it with you. 

so i will do so now: 

History is in a hurry. It moves like a woman 

Corralling her children onto a crowded bus. 

History spits, Go, go, go, lurching at the horizon, 

Hammering the driver's headrest with her fist. 

Nothing else moves. The flies settle in place

Watching with their million eyes, never bored. 

The crows strike their bargain with the breeze. 

They cluck and caw at the women in their frenzy, 

The ones who suck their teeth, whose skirts

Are bathed in mud. But history is not a woman, 

And it is not the crowd forming in a square. 

It is not the bright swarm of voices chanting No 

And Now, or even the rapt silence of a room 

Where a film of history is right now being screened. 

Perhaps history is the bus that will only wait so long 

Before [cranking its engine and] barreling down 

The road. Maybe it is the voice coming in 

Through the radio like a long distance call. 

Or the child in the crook of his mother's arm

Who believes history must sleep inside a tomb, 

Or the belly of a bomb. 

and after i had shared it 

i would ask your thoughts about it

and share my own.

i have many thoughts, 

but i will leave you with these: 

so many things history is not

even when we want it to be. 

what history is

is harder to place. 

Utah summer nights

I am convinced that Utah summer nights are some of the most magical nights around. 

I love that, even when days can be 100+ degrees, that the nights become bearable--with temperatures in the 80s or even 70s. 

I love the way it stays light until 10:00, or sometimes even 10:30 at night. 

I love what summer nights bring: picnics, bonfires, sunsets, and fireworks.  

And I love that so many people I love are in Utah during the summer. 

Sam and I went to Utah in July to see family. Of course, because of Covid restrictions, we weren't able to see as many people as we would have liked to, but with proper restrictions (masks, social distancing, being outside, etc.), we were able to spend some time with close family and friends. We also got to go on a lot of hikes, which was so nice. I miss being able to just get up into the mountains within twenty or thirty minutes. 

So, since I forgot to blog/post while I was there, please enjoy this montage of Utah views and faces. 

[a series of many, many hikes]

[late july wildflowers]

[a sam in a beloved habitat, part i]

[a sam in a beloved habitat, part ii]

[a sam in a beloved habitat, part iii (with his beloved)]

[loved, loved this hike]

[with bailey and james on top of the world!]

[a sam in a beloved habitat, part iv]

[with em and nate! we love them.]

[stole this from katy's instagram story. but yes. it's true. this was the first time we had all been together in two years!] 

[cambridge crew.]

[and an oxford gathering with the lovely briana and dani!]

[we took a day trip with my family to spring, city, utah. it is a beautiful little town. beautiful (the entire town is on the national historic register), and little (the town has a population of about 1100).]

[some old houses]

[loving the hollyhocks.]

[the water well. where, apparently, many courtships had their beginnings.]

[a cool, old door handle.]

[spring city views of the la sal mountains.]

[haiii.]

[spring city cemetery]

[after our trip to spring city, sam, sarah, evan, and i tried to find clarion, utah, which is now a ghost town, but used to be a jewish farming settlement in the 1920s. we couldn't find it--we were there, but it really is such a ghost town that we couldn't find it or its tiny graveyard--but we did swing by the manti temple and it is very pretty.]

[as are its views.]

[i am becoming better at making cakes. this was a golden oreo cake i made for my mom's birthday.]

[i made this cake in dc for the fourth of july.]

[and last, but not least, utah sunsets.]

[fin. but we'll be back. utah is home.] 

Berry picking

 Yesterday, Sam and I went with Sam's mom and sister and with my aunt, uncle, and cousins to go berry- and peach-picking at Larriland Farms in Maryland. 

It was one of the best things that I've done this August. That's not a hyperbole. That is real. 

It was nice being out in the country; it was nice to have a socially-distant activity which felt pretty normal; it was nice to get yummy raspberries and blackberries (and to make plans for yummy crisps, pies, and ice cream); and it was nice to spend time with family. 

[it was overcast most of the day, which also made it a perfect day for berry-picking]

[every way is the right way.]

[a boy with his berries.]

[soooooo many blackberries. we will be having blackberry crips for literal days.]

[we also went flower picking, which was incredibly calming for me. i wish i had my own fields of flowers to walk into and to commune with the butterflies.]

[the finished product.]

ten years.

a little more than ten years ago, i started this blog

to document my experiences, 

opportunities, conversations, 

friendships

while i studied abroad 

at the university of cambridge

for a few months. 

i knew that summer was magical then. 

(and looking back over my 

journal from that time,

delight dances off the pages.) 

but i don't think i truly grasped

how much that summer 

would change the trajectory 

and the shape

and the loves

of my life. 

in june, 

those who could 

of our byu-pkp 2010 group

got together 

in utah 

or over zoom 

to gather

reminiscence 

and create 

new memories. 

and just--

to remember 

how much cambridge meant to us; 

how much we still mean 

to each other. 

it was a delightful couple of days. 

[masked-up cambridge friends]

[listening to other cambridge friends on the zoom call]

[hello, friends!]

[wouldn't be a proper reunion in utah without a hike]

[sam came, too. and, of course he's wearing his queens' college shirt.]

towards the end of one of the nights

we talked about what cambridge meant to us. 

and i could--and can--honestly say 

that for me, 

the two most life-changing decisions 

that i made these past ten years

(if i had to choose two) 

would be going to cambridge

and going on a mission to ukraine.

 

because 

so many other decisions and happenstances

are connected to those. 

i would not have gone to oxford 

if i had not gone to cambridge. 

and i don't know 

if sam and i would have met

and fallen in love 

if i had not gone to cambridge, either. 

so many things we don't know. 

but what i do know

is there are places in this world 

that are touched with magic 

and that i am grateful 

for people in my life

who have loved me for who i am 

but who have also allowed me 

to change, grow, and shine.