Reflections, Vol. 1

A brief list of reflections I’ve had/am having throughout the course of the year so far.

  • We constantly blame people for us being the way we are, but no one forced us to be this way. True, we as humans are influenced, but we have a choice. Unless its a difficult circumstance, such as a gun being held to the head, we are solely at fault for being the way we are — whether we like it or not.
  • Its psychologically proven that its easier for humans to adjust easier to more stimulation than less. Yet I can adjust to the quiet beach-country of Rhode Island just as easily as roaming the Manhattan streets. Yet if I had to chose where I’d rather be year round, the city would be my choice.
  • I was driving through the Putnam/Duchess/northern Fairfield county borders, and losing my patience with my unfamiliarity driving throughout the area. Its beautiful viewing the lakes as a passenger, but a bitch if you’re a driver from the city with the locals speeding up out of nowhere, yet always having the right away over you God forbid something goes wrong. And when your best friend does a *reverse Arminius you feel like the only urban girl upstate, all alone.

    “This is why I like the city better!” I yell in frustration. A mixture of confusion, miscommunication, and a bad case of PMS and the tension is over. Yet just by me blabbing that, everything makes sense; it all comes out. Upstate is pretty, beautiful even — but its just not for me. I don’t belong here; I’m meant for downtown.

  • Yet I don’t feel this distain towards all of upstate. I love New Paltz and Woodstock far better than Fishkill and Brewster. I haven’t yet driven in Woodstock, but I have in New Paltz; I find it much easier to navigate, and such a joy being so close to the mountains, historical sh*t, and walking onto the main road, seeing businesses named after Grateful Dead songs. I’d never live in Putnam/Duchess/Fairfield, even though there’s a kickass mall and not one, but two Chick-Fil-A’s, but I would consider Ulster one day, after I accomplish all of my goals. If only they had a train station leading south to my beloved citta…
  • When things go wrong with anyone, whether they be a friend, family member, partner, co-worker, etc., its hard getting an unbiased opinion with everyone taking your side. Even when we’re right, we’re so focused on getting out our part of the story as to “not look like a fool” that we overdramatize details and try to ruin the other person’s reputation. True, we’re in the moment and don’t see this as such, but we notice years later during one of our deep meditations.

    What was I thinking? They were bad, but not that bad! They weren’t bad at all, but I made them a whole lot worse!

    You reflect, thinking and feeling the emotions bottled up rise above the surface all at once. Should I reach out? Should I call? Perhaps I better ignore it; maybe they’re reach out to me. It’s good to have faith, great even, but God only helps those who help themselves. Don’t sit there on your ass doing nothing; do something. Unless divine action has yet to speak through, don’t waste time waiting; depending on our beliefs, we only have one life to live. Best to live it the way we want and stop settling for everything in life.

  • We worry so much about impressing other people, its a shame we don’t pay attention to impressing ourselves. One step at a time, one day closer; once you learn to let of fear, then you truly start living life for you and who, what, and where you truly love.
  • I’ve been practicing Law of Attraction for over three months now, and see two of my three main manifestations taking form; one is fully coming to fruition, the other is halfway there. And the last? Non so — I do not know. I know in my heart that it will happen one day, but why can’t one day be now? This is something I hoped and prayed for for years; I thought all hope was lost, and gave up for awhile before I learned about LoA and manifesting. Since then, I feel myself gaining more confidence and trusting in God and the universe, but I can’t fully “let go.” I can detatch from the situation at work or when I’m out, but it’s always the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last as I go to bed.

    Am I doing something wrong? I’m visualizing, meditating, scripting, everything; everything but taking action.

    Take action — something I expected to do on the receiving end, not giving. Take action — a message I’ve been receiving, but am struggling to accept; those who know me tell me to wait, while the worker in the store or the lady in the church say “no.” They don’t know who I am, my story, what I want/am in the process of, but they can see I need to act on it. I’m tired sitting around doing nothing — its time to take action. If only divine action would fully call… every time I get close, I back out. Its a habit I need to break myself of; that habit starts right now.

    To be continued…

    *reverse Arminius is a term I derived as someone who fully engulfs themselves in and adopts the attitudes and behaviors of their new surroundings. An example is someone who’s originally from a rural area in the South moving to Manhattan and has lost their Southern accent and mannerisms completely.

 

Some News

Exactly 1 year, 3 months, and 3 days to the day from graduating, I finally got an offer for a full-time job. I’m still working at my alma mata, but in a different department and in the Financial District of New York City. It’s a lot of writing (including interviewing!), which is right up my alley, and also database and repository system maintenance, which is what I do in my current position and started in my previous ones from when I was a student worker. Words alone cannot describe how grateful and wonderful I feel inside. Like yes, finalmente, I did it!

I start the life of a city commuter, something some have warned me about but I always dreamed of, after Labor Day. I also gave my notice to my bosses after finding out; its a bittersweet feeling. While I’m happy to at last go full-time and begin my career writing and downtown, I’ll miss everyone in the Westchester office and working in HR. I literally grew up in this department, starting off as a doe-eyed student transforming into the successful woman I am today. Plus its been an amazing, positive, and inspiring environment, both in Briarcliff and Valhalla. Lucky for myself and my co-workers, we’ll still be in touch, both as I transition into this full-time role and become benefits eligible (you bet I’m going back to school to get my master’s as soon as I can!) and as we become/remain “cubicle mates,” since some of my co-workers also commute into the city on certain days (and some are there full-time), and the HR area is right next to all the Alumni Relations departments.

For the next two weeks, I’m continuing my normal work, and also getting together as much information as I can for my successor. I’ll also begin cleaning up, which is funny how I’m downsizing for my moving into a new home and now also moving into a new job, and enjoying the last few Mondays I have off.

Remember, it’s not the end — its only the beginning.

SoHo

Rocks against cast irons, subway

stations filled with being from

top to floor, exiting on past the

platform, reaching for above, light,

air, the buildings touched by angels,

heaven galore. How could humans

makes things such as these?

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017

    *Image from Google Image search

What’s Meant to Be…

…it will, shall be, no matter the length

of time passing between you and

me. Stop dragging your feet, do not

fear — touch, reach out– I promise —

I am here; I bear no ill will, am holding

no grudge. The past is dead, finished, gone —

done. Years down the drain, keep calm — its

time to move on, and cast all anxiety aside. Pick

up the phone and call, what must you lose! We

already lost so much time. But descandsar

rest — I promise as we reunite, we’ll get by — for

what’s meant to be is..shall..will be…for what’s

meant to be is you — you and me.

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017

    *Image from #StayQuotable via Google Image search

O César o nada

O César o nada, its all or nothing. O César

o nada, I must tell you something — O César o

nada — nothing or all, o César o nada, I shall not

fall, o O César o nada, you and me — what will be is shall

and meant to be, o O César o nada, we shall again meet — as

Fernando and Isabel united Spain, and Isabel de Portugal served

regent for her emperador, I know again we’ll be against the rocky

shores, as like ours, both unions were abandoned for awhile, before

either relationship truly begun, we were already together once, twice, you

and I are already twelve steps ahead — just stop it now, don’t be afraid– O César

o nada, my love. Come back, for O César o nada, we are each other’s destiny, O

César o nada, its you and me, O César o nada, where fate soon leads. O César o

nada, I’ve done my best, O César o nada, ritorna, come back, show me something

built to last. O César o nada, I am yours, and you are mine, O César o nada, you’re a

lready here, showing yourself all in due time. O César o nada, I let you and trust in

God to lead, O César o nada, us back together, tanto monta, monta tanto, our destiny. O

César o nada, you can run, but you can’t escape the fates. O César o nada, don’t

forget, dear one, not all is left to God, but given to man for his role to play. O César o

nada, time your time, get ready. O César o nada, I know your heart is full and heavy, but

O César o nada — the most precious thing we’re losing is time. O César o nada — call or

text me now, O César o nada, no one games — again let I be yours, and you be mine.

O César o nada — we cannot turn back the hands of time. O César o nada — but

we can begin, O César o nada, be in the present, be not afraid, for I was and am

always yours, and you were and are always mine. O César o nada, O César o nada,

O César o nada, O César o nada — let us reunite, happy and mature, creating our

future tanto monta, monta tanto — all in God’s time.

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017, 11:49 AM

The Feathered Quill

Mi carina Antonia,

How fortune honors me so that you, blood of my blood, continue to communicate with me. The hours drag on, making the days, weeks, months longer, thus further draining the life from me. But fret not, my little one — the work goes on, thanks to you and my beloved. Words alone cannot express the song which leapt within my heart upon hearing of your vows, and the name which you took. How my youngest honors her and me so, she who might’ve been your mother in another life. But alas, dear one, we are stuck in this one, clinging to ourselves hopelessly until we can make it closer to God. Thus, as I feel myself getting closer to the end of my work, I feel the wings of Paradise calling me closer, whispering. Dear son — its time to come home.

Do not cry nor fear nor fret over my memory when I’m gone. God shines upon our house in great ways. Sweet dreams, mi carina Antonio, sorella Beatrice. I shine upon you in life, and shall watch over you at the time which I ascend.

Your loving father,

D–

“Signore Alighieri!,” the voice called out. “Mi signore! Sir!”

He put the quill down scrolling a signature, pausing to cough before pouring the wax over it. The man entered his room in a hurry.

“Here,” he demanded, holding the letter out to him. “Bring this letter into the city to the Convent of Santa Croce to Sister Beatrice.”

He held the letter out, the man hesitating to deliver it.

“Signore, I respect you dearly, though I’ve come to be your jailer, I now you are a prisoner through no fault of your own. But if His Holiness’s spies catch me anywhere near the city…”

“‘His Holiness’ will have far more to worry about in the coming months,” he sniped. “And I care not. It’s a letter to my daughter. My only daughter. She’s a nun, sworn to God. I don’t know if I can write much longer while on earth, I want her to know I approve of her choice in her life, God’s choice.”

The man lowered his face, being sympatric to his master’s cause. He takes the letter and prepares to go, and the other sits down rather weakly, taking his quill out.

“Mi signore?” he asks hesitantly. “Where will you go, when this is all over?”

He points his quill towards the sky with a smile. The man returns one from him as well.

“E il papa? Where will he?”

His smile transforming into a sly smirk, as the quill graces across the animal skin sheets. Just then, he turns the hundreds of pages over, signing straight at the top —

La Divina Comedia

Dante

Part I: L’Interno

Old Love Through New, Open Shores

When it comes to you, my love, my heart is like iron, my

mind that of a conquistador; Just as Columbus dashed

across the shores of a land strange and foreign to his

plans, like Cortes stampeded across the Yucatan, conquering

and slaughtering the first world at hand, as though I were

Pizarro, who marched further south, another empire

capturing on, so I long to sail away to new lost shores, see

your face, complete the Reconquista in my heart, and hold

you safely in my arms. The years no doubt changed me, altering

my face, my body, my hair, myself; perhaps you, my love, transformed

as well, yet the difference it makes is none, for I know in my heart, the

explorer’s curse, what is good and true — I’d sail through

the heavens, climb up mountains, swim the seas and ocean floor, dive

head first into the molten lava and bathe in lake of fires whether they

are on earth or through l’inferno e purgatorio, just to see your face

again, if only to hear your voice. You — the Paris to my Helen, the

Fernando to my Isabel. Tanto monta, monta tanto — together we are

the same, only separated by past pain. Through all trials and festivals,

I find you in a different place. And thus by welcoming you back, through

just one simple spark, the old world forms with new, we return to one

another a third time, this time built to last, for the first time in forever, I

finally am at peace, this ship will land — my

Odyssey of aggeta is ended.

Puncture

Puncture the wound on the

breast of my heart, tales of

new glories and old woes which

tear us apart, lay down the

blade, grasp deeply my hand, breathe

upon my breath as if this moment is

your last. A hole in a hole — salt massaged

into my wounds. A new day arises, yet

what else is there to do?