Redemption. There are a few things that redeem humanity for me. Two of these things being kindness and respect. I have encountered a few different wonders over the last few weeks that have forced me to smile for blocks and blocks, while breathing in deeply the possibility of hope.

I was walking home from work one day a few weeks ago and passed by the El stop down the street from my house. This stop also happens to be the biggest drug corner in Philly (so the story goes). For some reason, the dealers were pushing hard that day, and in a matter of 20-30 seconds I got asked to buy drugs roughly ten times. “Works, works, works…” “Good times, good times, good times…” My frustration was building with every offer, and by the seventh or eighth time, my “no” was very short, and very firm. It was then that one of the men offering looked at me for a long second and said, “Ah Baby, I'm sorry,” as if he were completely aware of the misjudgment. The way he said it, the tone of his voice, so regretful, and sincere, made the next two or three offers bearable. I realized in that moment that good men sometimes do destructive things, and that the world is full of them. I thought of the Sufjan Stevens song--- “In my best behavior I am really just like him. Look beneath the floor boards for the secrets I have hid.”

It wasn’t but a few days later while I was taking a walk with Olivia that I was taken back again by the raw beauty of humanity. We were walking down Girard, when all of a sudden I hear a very loud, very pronounced, “FUCK!” I was caught a bit off guard and all most immediately, before I could judge the poor truck driver for cursing around such innocent little ears, he apologized exceedingly. With his hand over his mouth, almost childishly ashamed, he said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you coming.” He turned around sheepishly, while I forgave him and absorbed the sweetness of his apology.

Last week we took a little bike ride over to the Village of Arts and Humanity, here in North Philly. It’s a span of a few city blocks with beautiful mosaic murals on huge building sides, gardens, and sculptures. It’s really a beautiful urban oasis. Danielle and I were standing outside of “Meditation Garden” when an older man came walking out of the garden. “I’m sorry ladies, I didn’t mean to be rude, but I really needed to go.” He was referring to relieving himself in “Meditation Garden”, and was sorry he had done it in front of us. Men relieving themselves anywhere and everywhere are rather common place to me, as I’m convinced there is always a man in India urinating on the street every second of everyday. However, an apology for such things is not so common place and I found myself feeling touched by the notion of a respectful apology.

Last Thursday Nikki, Danielle and I went to West Philly for the morning. Danielle and I enjoyed a nice walk in Clark Park, and a cup of tea at the Green Line. West Philly is somewhat of a haven for me, with its beautiful trees, and homes. The morning seemed to be one of peaceful thought and conversation that continued on into the afternoon. Nikki took us to this beautiful cathedral that she had gone to the week before. We were just in time for the Eucharist. We sat together, the three of us, two women from the church, and the priest. We shared the bread and the wine, prayers, and a passage about the Israelites coming out of Egypt. The service was very sweet and very intimate, however it was after ward, as we were “passing the peace” to one another that I was really moved. I was moved in fact to tears, which these days does not happen as easily as it once did. It was the priest I think who did it. Richard. He was just a lovely man, full of kindness, grace, and joy. He was welcoming, and excited about people, love, and God. All of a sudden as he was talking about something so trivial and fleeting, something I cannot even recall now, I began to feel a swell of emotion rise up in me. In that moment I realized how wonderfully connected humans really are. As I watched kindness pour from this man's face, I glimpsed a depth in him that I longed to see in all people. It was a depth that seemed to prove to me that we all go so much deeper; that we all are truly connected for some odd, mysterious reason; that our souls are all so similar- searching, longing, hoping, waiting… drug dealer, truck driver, urinater, priest, me, you, my neighbors, my family, my friends, young, old, rich, poor, black, white, brown, pink… we’re just here, existing together… on the same earth, at the same time, just living… It’s wild how painful and how beautiful that reality is.

I just returned from Italy. I met up with my family in Florence, where my brother Chris is currently studying art. I was excited to go to Italy for a number of reasons… one being to see the beautiful and historical sights and two being to see my family. On the plane I realized that I have been in Philadelphia for two months. I was baffled by time and how it seems to pick and choose when to go by quickly and when to go by slowly. I have recently wondered if time has not changed entirely upon my return from the birth attendant school. It seems that my time in Egypt and India lasted four life times, but now, nine months has flown by like two weeks. I still can’t really believe that I am back from Las Vegas, let alone Italy, and am now just in Philadelphia, to live, forever, with no trips, no plans, and no tricks up my sleeve to keep me busy. I fear that if life continues on this way, I will be 87 in a blink of an eye, still wondering what on earth I should do with my life. Although I’ve always said that 80 would be a good age to marry, so I’d like to think of myself on a porch, in a rocking chair drinking coffee, chit chatting away about the weather. At any rate, I had a minor panic attack when I thought about being 24 this year. “Official adult age”. As you can tell from the thoughts above, my 12 + hour travel times to and from Italy were filled with thoughts and dreams of the future; some outrageous and ridiculous, some feasible, exciting and scary.

Upon arriving in Florence, I decided to leave these thoughts at the airport, and really enjoy my first time over seas as a tourist. No work to do, no plans, no agendas, no people to save… just pretty things to look at. For the most part, the week truly proved to be wonderfully relaxing, full of beauty, laughter, and light hearted fun. We spent most of our time in Florence, which was beautiful. Everyone there was so shiny, polished, fancy, and put together. I felt a bit like a ragamuffin, but enjoyed the people watching. We saw beautiful cathedrals centuries old, ancient statues, painted masterpieces, Michelangelo’s “David” (which was simply incredible.)

We went one day to Venice, where we walked the quaint cobblestone streets, and went on a gondola ride, just as you’d imagine you’d do in Venice. Our gondolier was a kind, wonderful man named Roberto. He started training at five years old with his father who was a gondolier before him. He told us about the buildings we passed; pointing out the houses of famous names we’ve heard all our lives like “Casanova.” He told us about the Bridge of Sighs, and encouraged the ladies to make a wish. He assured us it would come true, in all sincerity. It was a beautiful ride, and I felt so completely content in a boat with my family, weaving in and out of canals that each held hundreds and hundreds of years of stories.

We went another day to Rome, and to the Vatican City. There was a massive line to get into the Vatican Museum, and we avoided this by joining a tour group being lead by an Australian man who knew all things “ancient Rome”. It was incredible to hear his knowledge about the different pieces throughout the museum. He told us stories, and parallels, and gave life to the beautiful, yet overwhelming amount of white sculptures, and paintings. He told us of Michelangelo, and of the politics involved in him painting the Sistine Chapel, and the hidden secrets of some of the paintings. The Sistine Chapel was enough to stop my breath and quicken my heart for a moment upon walking in. I saw almost immediately the scaffolding we learned about in junior high, and imagined him lying down for years on end, painting such an overwhelmingly incredible space. It was amazing. I wish I could have stayed there all alone for hours just studying each picture. We also went to the Coliseum, and the Forum. I felt like I did when I saw the pyramids, as if my brain was short circuiting a little bit. Knowing the importance of such things, but not really knowing where to log them in my mind. I was suddenly very aware of the mass amount of people, history, and stories that are currently under our feet. Amazed that one day I too will end up there, hoping, praying that I can leave something as beautiful as the Sistine Chapel behind for those who will soon be walking over me.

I signed up for a midwifery conference at the end of this month. I find it funny that my mind has checked out from the midwifery world, and yet I find my feet always walking towards books, then my hands always buying them. I find my fingers filling in applications to conferences, and my checkbook paying for them as well as midwifery magazines. I make no promises, but do say I am looking forward to the one day I could afford at the conference later on this month. Here is a preview of the class I signed up for:

“The Anthropology of Midwifery and Birth- …This workshop presents a broad overview of human cultural evolution and midwives' roles in that process. Learn about six types of human subsistence strategies and cross-cultural birth practices within them, noting premodern similarities across vast cultural differences and examining the homogenizing effects of modernization. In the afternoon we will look at how postmodern midwives struggle to define their identities and roles in a rapidly changing world.”

So…we shall see. I have found myself anxious about a few different things in life lately, and find myself constantly singing: “Que sera sera, whatever will be will be…” Which is actually a fairly powerful line, if you truly believe it.