(to Marin about getting back Sam's favorite shirt) I don't want him to discover what a terrible person I am. We have only been married a few weeks. It's too soon.
When Alaska was just a land of trees, tribes created community through barter -- beads for a fur, a canoe for a cow. Trading partners became friends. Friends became family. As far as I can tell, not much has changed up here. We're still giving and receiving in equal trade. When the system is working, both sides come away happy, neither feeling like they've compromised. But rather, getting something better in the deal. In those moments, we are just a community of people -- sharing. Proving every day that it can be just as fulfilling to give as to receive. Sometimes just as hard.
Regret is a funny thing. You try your best in life to avoid it. But sometimes it's the hard things in life that teach us the most... which makes you wonder, if given the chance, how many of us would do things differently. For some, regret is the very thing that helps us push past our fear and move into the future. For others, it's the thing that allows us to re-explore out past. At its best, regret can be the catalyst for a new beginning, where anything and everything is still possible.
Oh, every sonata has three movements, and the first one, the melody, is new... often lively. But the second part, the part you're hearing right now, things can get a little dark and murky, and you can't always hear the theme. But the third part always comes back to the beginning. Things have a way of working themselves out.
Patrick and I were just discussing the term "carpe diem" or seize the day, an idea so old it comes to us in Latin. Live for today. Don't let opportunity pass you by. Just do it. Which is all well and good, but what happens the day after when you seize the day, wake up, and face the consequences. What do you think? Given the choice, would you rather look or leap?
Moving to Elmo was one of those seize-the-day moments for me. The thing is, while Alaska is beautiful to look at, I don't spend my days looking. I spend my days living. Like life anywhere, in Elmo there is fighting, and there is making up. There's joy and there is devastation. And once in awhile, amidst all of that, there will be brief flashes where everything just feels right. Serenity. Kind of like a vacation. And, while it's nice to go away, away wouldn't be nearly as nice if you couldn't come home.
How can you ever really know where someone is coming from? People say it's important to listen, but how can you listen if nothing is being said. Tell me, Elmo, in a relationship do you have the right to remain silent?
As children, we're taught to express ourselves. We're told to use our words to be specific and not to assume that others know how we feel. Because, the truth is, it takes our saying things aloud to know what we mean to know what we feel ourselves. As adults, there are those times when words fail us. In times like these, we put our words away and show how we feel because actions speak louder than words, and that's saying a lot.
Hey Elmo! Patrick and I were just talking about how you show someone you care. Are big grand gestures the way to go or is it the little things that count? We've all had times when we felt like we didn't get enough of someone else's attention, but what about the flip side? Can you actually give too much of yourself to somebody else?