Harmony

I was watching House of Cards with Hubby last night.  I'm on Season 1, Episode 8, so please no spoilers if you're further than me.  The writing on this show is magnificent.  Frank Underwood aka Francis, is such an ass, but he's a likeable ass.  Who knows why?  Maybe because you always know where you stand with him, and he has that incredible smile even when he's plunging the knife into your back. 

This blog isn't really a review about House of Cards though.  This blog is more about one line Frank Underwood says in that particular episode that really stuck with me, and I bet it hit home to a lot of people.  At the dedication of the library, Frank is talking about harmony and he says, "It is about individual voices coming together for a moment. And that moment lasts the length of a breath."  He's using the quote in reference to his time at the Sentinel, known in real life as the Citadel, and about how people come in and out of your life. 

Harmony.  Coming together for a specific purpose and then moving on. I think about this, because so much of my time is spent thinking about the past.  I try to be a goal oriented person.  I plan ahead, and I look to the future often.  I have pangs about the past: lost loves, lost friends, or almost a craving for the way things were when things were at their best, or maybe when I was having the most fun, or maybe when my feelings of love and life were so heightened I felt on top of the world. 

In Episode 8 of House of Cards, the look on Frank's face as his friend (possible lover) walked away from him showed that Frank struggled with the feelings of loss and difficulty of letting go.  Why is it so difficult to let go?  Each relationship or friendship lost is almost like a mini-death and takes a grieving process in order for an individual to move on.  The feelings regarding that particular person or that particular event in your life are still imprinted in your memory and recalling them can be a sweet but painful nostalgia, almost like you're reliving the loss every time you think about.

How wistful to think: it's for a moment, and then it's gone, and then you move on.  Some people work this way, repressing painful thoughts and memories, and even repressing the good thoughts and memories because sometimes recalling them reminds you of how different you feel today.  You look back on your past sometimes and think, "Oh if I could only do that again then I'd be happy."  Let's face it, living life is hard, and sometimes we all wish we could back to the easier times.

This weekend I went out with a young friend of mine who is about to graduate from high school.  She was talking about college and said, "Well I'm going to have a lot of free time."  And my heart was suddenly jealous that she gets to swing through those carefree days of making friends, about being idealistic about the future, looking for a job and soaking up knowledge like a sponge while I'm stuck washing dishes and forcing kids to do homework.  My heart wanted to go back to that moment in time, but that's all it was: a moment.  A moment that taught me a lot about myself, about my capability to learn, and about who'd I be in the future. 

I think living life is so much about being in the present moment and not being stuck in the past and not looking too much into the future.  I think for the greatest chance of happiness you must look at your past mistakes, you must think about your past loves with fondness, but then you need to move on from there.  I'm still learning how to do this.  And one of my favorite quotes of all time reminds me, "Hindsight is like foresight without a future."  Nothing comes from wishing that something that WASN'T IS, or that something that WAS still IS, except a special kind of pain.

Remember the individual voices with fondness.  Think about today, be happy about yesterday, and walk in the present.

 

Christmas Traditions: The Past Meeting the Present

I’m an early riser, like my father, and it gives me time to reflect on life, before the chaos of daily life begins.  In the wake of Christmas, I was just thinking about how amazing traditions are. 

When I was little, every Christmas Eve my parents would make something disgusting for dinner: oyster stew (yes, I like it now, but as a child I thought it was disgusting).  I generally would not eat.  We would open one present from under the tree, the anticipation building throughout the day for that special moment, to know what we had received! 

After opening presents, we would normally hop into the car to go look at Christmas lights.  There was always one particular house down in a neighborhood near ASU that was decked out with so many Christmas lights, blow up Santas and reindeers in the yard, and it just made me giddy with excitement!

After arriving home, we would gather around my Dad’s piano (a Wurlitzer back then) to sing Christmas carols.  None of us have great voices, but we would just belt out those tunes, laughing and giggling the whole time! 

After singing, we sat on the white couch in the living room and Dad would read “The Night Before Christmas,” and the bible story: Luke 2:1-20.  We were just itching to crawl into bed at this point, so that we could wake up the next day to see what Santa had brought.

I would pass the night, tossing and turning, dreaming about waking up to the presents and candy!  One year I even threw up, because I was so excited! Usually around 3 or 4, I would creep out of bed and wake up my sisters and brother.  We would sit on the landing on top of the stairs, just listening to see if Mom and Dad would ever wake up.  We’d usually sit up there for a few hours before they’d open their bedroom door, located at the bottom of the stairs, and tell us to come on down.  Sometimes, they’d make us sit in the breakfast room and eat before seeing what Santa brought (and no matter what, he’d always put an orange in our stockings!).

These traditions make for great memories.  Repeating the same tradition year after year helps you hold onto parts of the past that are important.  We’re resuming a lot of these traditions now, with our family and I hope they have just as wonderful memories of their past Christmases as I do.