Hold My Soul & Carry My Heart

I’m not convinced there are enough words in the English language to explain how angry I am. Angry about how the government is handling this outbreak. Angry about US health insurance and care. Angry at middle-aged women who buy out entire grocery stores in their neighborhoods. Angry that NO ONE IS ABLE TO GET TESTED FOR COVID-19. Yep. You heard it here first, folks - no one will test you for corona virus, even if you present with all the symptoms. Isn’t that fun?

I should probably start at the beginning of my story. From February 16-18, I travelled by plane to Missouri (which was awesome, btw). About 2 weeks after I returned home, I started having a scratchy throat and a pretty hefty cough. This was around the time COVID-19 was starting to pick up in the US and I was feeling pretty anxious about my newly found symptoms. Instead of googling and self diagnosing, I called a local urgent care to ask what the odds are that I’d contracted COVID-19 and what I should do to keep my loved ones safe. The Urgent Care said that I had reason to be nervous, and recommended that I call the Ontario County Department of Health right away, as they were not equipped to test for COVID-19. I spoke with the nurse from DOH, who said that because I had not travelled to Italy, China, etc. and because I didn’t have a fever, I would not qualify to be tested and I probably just had the flu. I said okay, and went about my business. 

About 3 days later, my symptoms worsened and I had developed a pretty high fever and a cough that rattled my entire body (and because I’m in a sharing mood, often left me wetting my pants after each cough). I became more concerned and decided to go to urgent care to get everything settled. The provider at urgent care diagnosed me with bronchitis after the flu test and the strep test each came back negative. The provider prescribed some antibiotics and cough medicine, and sent me on my way. My wonderful husband picked them up from Wegman’s and we went home, where I stayed for several days. Symptoms continued to escalate...my fever would not settle, cough was worse and I was very achey. I scheduled a tele-med appointment for a second opinion, and the provider on my phone camera believed I had pneumonia. I should remind you that COVID-19 is often confused for pneumonia. My parents began to worry and made a few calls for me, insisting that it was important I be tested for the corona virus. I mean, I had just attended a conference with people from all over the country and flew on a plane 4 separate times. After speaking with 3 different providers, it was determined that despite my very serious symptoms, I was not able to be tested for COVID-19. Each provider stated that if my symptoms worsened, I should go to the ER. Finally, I spoke with the nurse from DOH again, who suggested I go back to urgent care to determine whether or not I actually had pneumonia. She said that if they believed I didn’t have pneumonia, she would consider testing me for COVID-19. I headed back to urgent care asking for a chest x-ray and another flu test. After the flu test came back negative (again) and after reviewing the X-ray, they determined I did indeed have pneumonia and that I should just continue to take antibiotics and stay home to rest. Fine. I was on the mend and things seemed to be settling. If I did indeed have COVID-19, I knew I had done everything I could to be safe and proactive by staying home and calling ahead of time. This one was not on my shoulders. 

This week, I feel much better, but my sweet husband, Jamil, has begun showing symptoms. His symptoms started with severe body aches and a small cough. I thought it may be best to stay on top of it and suggested he go to urgent care to see if they’d prescribe him antibiotics so he can move through the symptoms quickly. Jamil’s insurance has a $3000 deductible, so when he went to urgent care that day, he paid $120 for a nurse to tell him that his symptoms were not severe enough and they would not prescribe any medication. They told him to come back if his symptoms progressed. After a few days, Jamil’s cough became worse and his aching became almost intolerable and he began having a fever. We decided to make another appointment at our local doctors office to see if they would refer him to be tested for COVID-19. He showed up, was tested for the flu (which came back negative) and was told to go home. The provider mentioned again that if things got worse, he should go to the ER. I called the ER to see if they were providing testing for COVID-19...which, surprise, they were not. They recommended that we call the COVID-19 hotline for more information...super helpful.

Today, after Jamil’s fever spiked to 102.2, I called back the doctors office asking if there was anyway they would prescribe him an antibiotic for pneumonia, as that’s what I had last week and was treated for. The nurse said there was nothing more they could do and that they couldn’t prescribe something without him coming back in. I was not satisfied with this answer and decided to call back urgent care, where we had both previously been treated. The woman there said that Jamil needed to call the COVID-19 hotline before coming in, as it sounded like he had the virus. I explained that NOT ONE SINGLE provider in this area would test Jamil for COVID-19 and that I wanted him to come in, have an X-ray done to see if he had pneumonia and have something (read: anything) prescribed to try to help him manage his symptoms. After some push back, she agreed. We showed up at urgent care, where we were told to call the hotline again. I humored them...maybe something had changed in the last 4 days? 

NOPE

After waiting on the line for 20 minutes, the provider from the hotline said it sounded like Jamil had a “mild case” of COVID-19, but he did not qualify to be tested, as he was not immunocompromised and did not travel outside the country in the past month. The hotline said we should go home and if things got worse, call the ER. I relayed this information to the woman at urgent care and demanded he be seen. Jamil was given an X-ray and it was determined that he has pneumonia,  but the provider was very concerned and wrote a referral for Jam to be tested for COVID-19 at a local testing area. The nearest testing center is in Rochester (about an hour away). They said we should leave immediately. I asked if the referral meant he would be guaranteed a test, and they said it should, so we drove. 

Upon arrival, we drove up to a white tent and spoke with a doctor. He gave us the green light to head to the second tent where they’d determine whether or not Jamil would be tested. Upon driving up to the second tent, we were quickly met by a woman who said that Jam’s symptoms were not extreme enough, so she would not test him, and that we should self quarantine for 14 days. Without a test taken, we drove away. I sobbed. I called my parents who were in disbelief. 

THIS is what is happening in NYS right now. I know that there is a shortage of tests in the Rochester area, but they are literally turning people away who are showing symptoms without a second thought. Before Jamil and I showed symptoms, we were out and about and working. I understand that Joe Shmoe who recently had a lung transplant has priority to testing, as he is immunocompromised, but Jesus Christ, how many people in my life are immunocompromised who now don’t get to know whether or not they’ve definitely been exposed to someone with COVID-19?? How many people have Jamil and I been in contact with over the last 3 weeks that will surely be impacted - and how sad that we can’t confirm we’ve actually had the virus and that they need to be quarantined?! This is why I am ANGRY.

I am overwhelmed with anger that I can’t tell my dad, who has Multiple Sclerosis, whether or not he has been exposed to COVID-19. I am irate that Jamil had to tell his work that he probably has a mild case (whatever the fuck that means) of COVID-19, and that he’ll need to take 14 days off from work/will need to work from home without any paperwork or documentation. I am ENRAGED that a bill was passed to ensure that all workers affected by COVID-19 are provided 2 weeks paid sick leave, but I am 98% sure that if they haven’t been tested, they likely won’t be entitled to that paid time off. I am FURIOUS that Trump has told all of America that if they feel sick, they can get tested anytime/anywhere, when that is CLEARLY NOT THE CASE. I am FUMING that the US is short on tests because the government wants to make it look like our confirmed cases number is low, while people are struggling and sick and feeling foolish for thinking they may have COVID-19, but can’t get a solid answer. I am heartbroken that low income families/people from impoverished areas will not be taken seriously when they go to their doctor with illness and symptoms and will not be given an answer that’s helpful or affirming. I am SEETHING that healthcare providers/workers are being put in a situation where they have to choose who is more important for testing, when there are countries administering hundreds of tests daily to keep citizens safe. I am PISSED OFF that there are still people going out and about when there is a LITERAL PANDEMIC happening. 

Jamil, how lucky am I to be standing here with you today? I never imagined that I’d have a day like this...where I’d share my love for my best friend in front of family and friends. There have been so many days when I’ve felt lost, and somehow I’m always drawn back to you, my home. You have brought such joy to my life, and peace to my heart. I have truly found the one whom my soul loves…I’ve found you. Loving you is one of the greatest gifts of my life, and though there are also many challenges that come with this lifelong friendship, there’s no one else I’d rather face them with.

You’ve done so much for me, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for it all…For living in a camper with me, for adventuring with me, for kissing me when I have morning breath. For singing with me, dancing with me, and laughing with me. For holding me close during times of sorrow, and for listening to me and truly hearing what I say. For smiling with me wholeheartedly when the skies are clear and the sun is kissing our cheeks. You love me so wholly, and you embrace every part of my being. This is a love that can’t be measured, and it knows no bounds. This love is ever growing, and shifting, and changing, and moving, and breathing, and god it’s so good. There is something so good here.

As we take this next step together, I promise to grow with you every day. I promise to hear your truth, to laugh with you daily, to love you unconditionally. I vow to cherish our differences and to celebrate all the parts of you that make you uniquely you. I will always support you, through sickness and health. I will cry with you on the hard days, and smile with you on the good ones. I will adventure with you. I will protect and comfort you. I will build a beautiful life with you, and I promise to work hard each day to fill our days with happiness.

I'm not quite sure how that happened, as it has always been such a huge part of my identity, but nonetheless, it did. I sit at my piano every so often and press keys that once made my heart swoon and sing soft melodies that bring me back to simpler times, but it’s not the same as it used to be. I've lost my voice in a sea of expectations and grief.

Somewhere along my classical journey, I developed a complex about only singing if I believe it's worthy to be heard - near perfection. I think the pressure to do the music justice, even though I was a student and learning, took a toll on my mental health. The anxiety surrounding lessons, performing, master classes, and auditions left me in a constant state of worry - and not because I wasn’t prepared, because I was busting my ass practicing, but because I just didn’t believe I would ever be good enough. 

I started learning correct and healthy technique, finally, during my junior year of college, and I felt so behind my peers. I would listen to the divas and wonder how I could ever sound like them, how I could ever do the composer justice with my voice at this stage. This anxiety stole my joy and created a monster who would creep into my dreams, make me doubt myself, and eat away at my self worth.

Because as a singer, your body is your instrument, it’s so easy to take criticism of musicianship as criticism of worth. Somewhere in the beginning stages of my music making, I believed that if I couldn’t sing it perfectly, couldn’t adjust the technique, couldn’t make the right sound, then I was probably a terrible person who didn’t deserve to make music. Silly, obviously, but absolutely one of the stories my brain would create to scare me and keep me from being vulnerable on stage. 

I felt as if there were two Margaret’s living inside of my body. A Margaret who was smart, confident, passionate, exuberant, care-free, brave, and who loved herself - and a Margaret who was scared, unsure, self conscious, indecisive, apologetic, and who loathed every part of herself. The latter Margaret was the person staring back at me in the mirror during my voice lessons. It was exhausting to carry her around with me each day - a constant war within myself.  

 I talk to my therapist about my singing quite frequently, as it's something I grieve daily and grapple with constantly. I’ll never know if I made the right decision to not pursue music wholly and professionally; But the weightless feeling I have now that I’ve taken a step back has been liberating and soul nourishing. I feel sad every day, and I struggle to find my voice now that classical music is not something I’m singing daily, but I’m finding joy in singing folk melodies and playing Lightshift on the piano. I still poke away at Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and I plunk through the vocal lines of my favorite classical pieces. I no longer worry about laughing too hard at the movie theatre, and I enjoy a few drinks when going out with friends. I sing too loud with the shitty pop music on roadtrips, and I scream at celebrations to let my loved ones know how proud I am of them. 

I listen back on recordings from college and smile because I really was doing it. I was making music, and I was moving the audience, and I was doing the songs justice. I let silent tears roll down my cheeks as I hug the scared and unsure Margaret within me. She was doing it. Despite what she believed, she was making beautiful music - 

Today feels soft. Sort of like a bitter-sweet day…I woke up in a haze, and couldn’t decipher exactly how I was feeling.

I remember being selected for a scholarship at school. I had to go to the guidance office to write a brief essay about my life and my aspirations. I felt great, and hopeful that I’d be named a national Daughter of the American Revolution.

I finished my essay and was told by Mrs. Wright that my mother was in her office, and needed to speak to me. I remember being a bit confused, as it was quite unexpected. I began worrying. I walked in, and saw my mother’s sad eyes and a box of tissues near her lap. I asked what had happened.

“Did something happen to Grandpa? Dad?”

She began tearing up again, and told me that there had been an accident. Kurt had been in a car accident that morning, and didn’t make it.

I remember feeling numb. I hadn’t ever felt something so paralyzing before that moment.

“What?”

“He was driving late this morning, and fell asleep at the wheel. His truck wrapped around a tree and he didn’t make it. It was on the news this morning, and I didn’t want you to hear from someone else or see it on Facebook.”

Tears were streaming down her face, and I suddenly felt as though there was a weight pressing down on my chest. Hot tears began falling from my cheeks. She asked if I wanted to go home.

I walked out of the office and into the hallway, I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. My friends caught me before I was out the door. I was hugged by 3-5 of my friends before leaving the building.

I turned to food for comfort and grabbed Chinese on the way back to the house. I sat on the end of my couch staring into the void with fried rice in hand. I sat for a long while not understanding how to process this grief. I had to do something.

I went to soccer practice, and pretended that everything was fine. Friends came up and gave me their condolences. I tried to be okay. I didn’t want to draw any extra attention to myself.

I went home after practice and sat in the center of my twin size bed. The pain was radiating throughout my entire body. I listened to Mumford & Sons and sobbed until I couldn’t bare to be awake any longer.

For a year I felt this unimaginable pain, and my heart broke over and over every single day. I listened to Mumford & Sons every single day.

How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes I struggle to find any truth in your lies Now my heart stumbles on things I don’t know My weakness I feel I must finally show … In these bodies we will live In these bodies we will die Where you invest your love You invest your life In these bodies we will live In these bodies we will die Where you invest your love You invest your life Awake my soul

I felt ashamed of my grief and I felt very isolated in the beginning. Months passed, and no one was interested in my sorrow any longer…not that I spoke of it much. My intention was never to be a burden. I cried only in front of my mother. No one else wanted to hear my “sob story” any longer.

I put on the happy face at school, and took off the mask at home…often wandering the house in a daze. I cried at my dining room table a lot. I hugged every single member of the family at his calling hours.

None of my friends really understood, and even though they tried to be supportive, they invalidated my feelings more often than not. I felt totally alone, and had to figure out how to be okay on my own.

I don’t know why I’m recounting this now. I know this sounds dramatic, but loss is loss, and love is love, and when you’re young and hurting, it’s consuming.

Five years is a long time to think about this. Five whole years since you died, and six since I’ve touched your hand or heard your laugh. I’m better now. I’m engaged. I’m happy. I’m rebuilding the foundation of my self-love. I have a job, and a college degree. I’m okay. And yet there is still this part of me that aches still. I still think of you every single day, whether I realize it or not.

I know we wouldn’t have ended up together even if you had lived. I know that you and I were only meant to be young lovers. I mean, I was only 15. What did I even know? But here you are, and here you’ll stay, mended into my broken heart. You’d probably have ended up there regardless, but the death thing really sealed the deal.

I think of you often, and wonder sometimes what you’d be like right now. You’d almost be 25…You’re only a few days older than my Fiance, Jamil. I wonder if you’d be getting ready for hunting season right now. I wonder how many sick things you’d have done to your truck to “pimp her out.” I wonder if you’d enjoy who I am right now, or if you’d think I was a “wild feminist” who took things too seriously. I wonder if we’d be friends. I wonder a lot of things, I suppose.

People are always memorialized after they die, and people seem to only remember the good. I used to look back and see how terrific you were…which you were, don’t get me wrong, but you were also an ass hat. You smoked too much weed, and listened to Meatloaf on a shit record player in your basement….Who does that????

I think your death made me explore who I am and who I want to be more deeply. I had to figure out how to rise up from my darkness. You made me more empathetic and compassionate. You helped me open up about death and dying. You made me grow up a little more quickly. You helped me connect with others who are grieving. You also played a large hand in giving me a complex about commitment…but that also just could have been my father’s fault.

I don’t think this post really has a point. I suppose I just wanted to say hello. And thank you for allowing me into your life 7 years ago, and for allowing me to be a part of your family’s life. They have helped me in more ways than I could ever explain. They’ve become a second family to me, and I love them very very much. Thank you.

I think sometimes that you’re up there judging me…like maybe I’m just another girl who you knew for a little while who’s trying to milk your death for attention. I don’t know why I think that. I think I try to invalidate my feelings sometimes because of how much time had passed after we broke up and before you died…and also because of our culture. I think the best way I can deal with my grief is by writing and sharing my thoughts with others…and sometimes the best platform for that is Facebook. Or if you think the tattoo I have for you is overkill, and that what we had wasn’t even that special. Probably a silly notion. I just wonder sometimes if you ever think, “Yeah. She was a good one.” I know I don’t need to defend my grief or look for validation, but I just wonder.

Anyway, today really does feel soft. Soft like a gentle breeze on an unusually warm October day. Soft like choir music. Soft like leaves falling from their branches. I didn’t try to be anything today. I was just Margaret, and she was just a little sad. I watched a lot of movies, and I sang, and I ate crap food. It’s a bitter-sweet day, and I’m okay.

Do I ever cross your mind? Because I always think of you, and I always say, “Yeah. He was a really damn good one.”

10 quotes that make me cry every single time.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm a bit of a quote fanatic. I love how words can sound so musical when coupled together just the right way. I believe that writing, just like music, has the ability to make change happen all around the globe. Words bring people together, and these words feel like home to me. I hope you find some comfort in them just as I have.

1. "Rain drops clung to my eyelashes, kissed my cheeks,

And I felt so, so singularly alive.

Exhilarated. Ecstatic. Euphoric.

I tumbled, head over heels in love, with this moment,

Right now, and now, and now,

Every single drip drop bead of water descending from the sky,

became a close friend and confidante.

I smiled blindly at every passing car,

At every benevolent soul I encountered."

Bobbie O'Connor, "Harmonious Cascade"

2. "Be calm, only by calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together-be calm-love me-today-yesterday-what tearful longings for you-you-you-my life-my all farewell. O continue to love me-never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved." Beethoven, "Immortal Beloved Letters"

3. "I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart; I am, I am, I am." Sylvia Plath, "The Bell Jar"

4. "She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. ‘Time’ for her isn’t something to fight against. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water." Roman Payne, "The Wanderess"

5. "Watch out for each other. Love everyone and forgive everyone, including yourself. Forgive your anger. Forgive your guilt. Your shame. Your sadness. Embrace and open up your love, your joy, your truth, and most especially your heart." Jim Henson

6. "Above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." Ronald Dahl, "The Minpins"

7. “Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.” Louise Erdrich, "The Painted Drum"

8. "You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing, and dance, and write poems, and suffer, and understand, for all that is life." Jiddu Krishnamurti, "The First and Last Freedom"

9. "She was one of the rare ones, so effortlessly herself, and the world loved her for it." Harper Lee, "To Kill A Mockingbird'

10. “There is nothing left to worry about The sun and her flowers are here.” Rupi Kaur, “The Sun and Her Flowers”

"I do not wish you joy without a sorrow, nor never ending day without the healing dark."

One of the many wonderful things about being a musician is having the opportunity to share my passion with other people. Sometimes those people are children, students, adults with disabilities, senior citizens...really anyone who could use a little music to bring a smile their face and some inspiration to their life. My job as a musician is to bring something beautiful to their day.

My music department at school often takes trips to a veterans' home close by to share music with the wonderful people who fought for our freedom. In the spring of my first year, a small group of us went to perform there and were given a small spiel on what to expect upon arrival.

Many of the residents at Oxford have limited mobility and cognitive function. Some are receiving end of life care, while others are simply living out the rest of their retirement. Nursing homes have always given me an eerie feeling. Since my first visit with my great grandmother after she had moved to one, to caroling during the holidays, I've always ended these visits with a heavy heart and watering eyes. I tend to be overly emotional about life in general, and this is absolutely no exception.

After performing with my group, my professor introduced me to a kind man named Ralph. He sat very still in his wheel chair, but his eyes were alert and his smile was bright and full of life. He took my hand and told me I was beautiful. My professor went on to tell me that Ralph had recently begun doing art in his spare time. He had never touched a paint brush in his life, and decided to try something new when he moved to Oxford. I was incredibly impressed by his creative nature, and although he looked to be in his early nineties, he clearly had the heart of a child.

After talking for a bit about life and school, he looked me in the eyes and began reciting a poem. It was one of the most heartwarming poems I had ever heard, and I vowed that as soon as we got back to campus, I'd look it up. With tears streaming down my face, I held Ralph's hand and thanked him for being a wonderful person. I cried the entire way back to campus.

As soon as I sat down on my bed, I typed the first line of Ralph's poem into google.

"I do not wish you joy without a sorrow."

Nothing.

"Poems about joy and sorrow"

Nothing.

"I do not wish you poem"

Nothing.

I continued rephrasing, retyping, searching everywhere on the internet to find this poem, and I never found it. Distraught and upset that I couldn't remember the beautiful words Ralph had spoken to me only days earlier, I called the home asking if it would be possible to speak with Ralph over the phone. No one ever called me back, and I slowly came to terms with the fact that I would never find the poem.

Almost a year later, I returned to the same veterans home with a smaller group of musicians to perform. I began thinking of Ralph the minute I got in the car. I looked everywhere while I was performing for his familiar warm face, but he was nowhere to be found. After we finished performing, I quietly asked a nurse if Ralph was around. I explained to her that I desperately needed to see him to ask about a poem. She said that Ralph was very sick and wasn't seeing visitors at the moment, but thought he may make an exception for me.

We took the elevator to the 4th floor, passed his artwork in the hallway, and entered a dark room with an oxygen machine whirring in the background. Ralph laid in his bed looking so sickly. The light in his eyes had faded to a dull and blank stare; the corners of his mouth no longer turned upward with joy. I moved quietly to the side of his bed and touched his soft hand. He looked up and smiled at me. The nurse told him who I was, and asked him if he remembered the poem he had told me almost a year earlier. He sat up a little taller, I took out my phone to record our conversation, and he began reciting the poem.

"I do not wish you joy without a sorrow

Nor never ending day without the healing dark

Nor brilliant sun without a soothing shadow

Nor tides that never turn against your bark

I wish you peace and love, faith and courage, and goods and gold

Enough to help a needy one

And I wish you song, but also blessed silence

And gods sweet peace when day is done."

By the last line, I had soft tears running down my face, so thankful for his wonderful memory and kind heart. I kept recording as we talked. He looked me in the eyes and said, "Margaret, you know that's my wife's name, you are my angel. I prayed to God to give me a reason to live, to heal me, and he sent me you. I feel like I can keep going. I can keep living." He continued to talk and began quoting one of my favorite Robert Frost poems, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." I held his hand and recited it with him.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

And miles to go before I sleep."

We sat in silence for a small moment, and I hugged him. I squeezed his hand, and said goodbye. As soon as I returned to my room, I sat down and listened to the recording of our time together...only seven minutes long. I listened to the recording over and over trying to decipher the words from the poem that Ralph had quietly spoken. I typed out each word slowly and carefully until, to my astonishment, I had completed the poem.

I was overjoyed when I finished, and I ran to a friend to read him the words that had inspired me to tears. After hearing the first line, he typed them into Google. The first search result was the poem in its entirety.

My heart sunk, and it was in that moment that I realized just how linked and connected everything is. In that moment, I truly understood what it meant when people said "everything happens for a reason," whether you believe in a higher power or not.

This is one of the most powerful experiences I've had so far in my young life, and I still listen to the recording when I'm looking for inspiration and guidance on the tough days. I showed Ralph purpose in life that day, and Ralph showed me a new way to approach living. I look back on our exchange with a heart full of love and compassion.

A little pick-me-up for the bad days.

In a society where we often feel the weight of the world on our shoulders, it's easy to forget to take life one day at a time. It's easy to forget that we are worth celebrating; that life is something worth celebrating. On the bad days, sometimes it's hard to remember why you're worth it, so here's your pick-me-up! When I feel like garbage, this is what I do to remember that I'm pretty okay sometimes. Celebration at its finest!

1. I get naked

Yep. I highly recommend getting naked and just embracing your body in all its glory. Trace your lumps and bumps, kiss your stretch marks, hug yourself as tightly as you can. Stare in the mirror and thank your body for housing your mind and soul. Thank your body for carrying you to beautiful places and giving you the chance to see such magnificent sights. Your body works hard for you and deserves a little love occasionally.

2. I dance

Clothing is 100% optional for this act of self-love. If I were you, I'd put on a real jam and spin around the room until I feel queasy. Dance in front of mirrors. Dance with a great friend. Put clothes back on and dance with grandma. Dance with hope and passion. Dance for all the good in the world.

3. I sing

I sing from the rooftops. I sing the wrong notes. I sing in the shower. I sing in my best friend's car. I sing in the line at Moe's while waiting for my $5 burrito. I have a voice and I can share so much with it! May as well sing as loudly and obnoxiously as possible while I'm still young.

4. I meditate

I love to find the most beautiful tree and sit in the shade of its branches. I lean against the scratchy bark and absorb all of the energy that courses through the earth. I breathe deeply and smell the fresh air. I try to remember what it feels like to "be" rather than "do." It's incredible how much you can learn from nature if you open your eyes to all of its beauty.

5. I watch Netflix

My favorite thing to do? Sit in bed--again, clothing is optional--with a plate of pizza rolls and don't move for 3 or more hours. Watch eight episodes of "Friends". I love to watch "Gilmore Girls" until my eyeballs seem to fall out of my head. Or I like to watch every Nicholas Sparks book-turned-movie they offer on Netflix! Better yet? I refuse to apologize for it. I deserve a day of rest once in a while (and so do you)!

6. I cry and cry and cry again

I enjoy listening to Mumford and Sons until I feel that heavy pressure in my chest right before the sobs break. Then I cry long enough to replenish earth's depleting water sources. There's nothing I've done that is more cathartic than this. 10/10, I highly recommend.

7. I call my mother

Even when it feels like there's no one on this planet that could possibly love me, I know there's at least one person, my mother. She's been around for the ugly, the uglier and the ugliest. She's far too invested to leave me stranded now. I call her and tell her everything that is eating away at my happiness and then I cry for a little while (See number six).

8. I forgive

I have learned that in order to keep moving forward, I have to forgive myself; I have to forgive my enemies; forgive my anger and my shame; forgive my dog for stealing the last piece of pizza off the counter. I'm only human and perfection is way overrated anyway. I try to learn from my mistakes and grow, and I continuously challenge myself to be the best version of myself that I can be each and every day. I've learned to celebrate my triumphs and my passions; to celebrate my individuality.

Saying goodbye is too damn hard sometimes

Morgan keeps talking about getting rid of her boots. She's packing for grad school in London and has to get rid of a lot of her stuff. I'm surprised at how much crap she has. Anyway, she's not feeling particularly attached to these boots, but they are so important to me. If I could describe it any way that didn't sound crazy, I would, but this will definitely sound crazy no matter how I word it...I feel like these boots are the embodiment of her soul...they reflect her beauty, her uniqueness, and her strength. They are tall, black and have buckles that line each calf. They are bold, and they are Morgan.

I have never been good with change. People come into my life, and they leave my life and I always feel like a part of me leaves with them. This is probably due to the fact that I'm the most emotional human on the planet...I feel things so passionately and it's like the end of an era when change inevitably comes around. And as I sit here on the floor with my best friends, realizing that this is the last time we'll have this ritual, I feel a tiny hole in my heart starting to expand.As I sit on the floor of her cabin, I find myself crying about these boots. Morgan's staring at me with the strangest look on her face, clearly unsure of why I'm so attached to these boots. She's laughing as I wipe the tears streaking down my face. Between sobs, I'm laughing, too. I can only imagine how ridiculous I look...especially because I am in no way a "pretty" cryer. Not that I'm sure that actually exists...but between the hysterical breaks, I can't stop thinking, "How could she give away something that I feel are so "Morgan?" How can Morgan give away parts of herself? How is it that I'll never see those boots again?"

There are so many things that I have learned from her, and as graduation quickly approaches, it's finally starting to set in that I won't have her around to light me up when I'm feeling down, to share beautiful thoughts on the world with, or to make music with. Who else is going to laugh at my jokes? Who else is going to sit in the grass with me for hours and talk about life? Who's going to put googly eyes all over my stuff?

There are so many things that I've learned from my friends at school, and I've never felt closer to a group of such wonderful people. I know I'm not really crying about the damn boots, but it's far too real to cry about my best friends closing this chapter of their lives when I'm not.

If there is one person I'd like to credit my understanding of music to, it would be Morgan. After a long day during my sophomore year, Morgan sat with me in a practice room, played me a piece by Debussy, and explained her philosophy of music. We cried, we laughed, we shared inspiration. This is the exact moment that I began to see the world through her eyes. I began to understand music, and for that, I'll be forever grateful. Morgan is the definition of a creative and free thinker, and I only hope that I'll be half as philosophical some day; to see the world with such a unique lens.

Morgan was also a huge role in me finding myself during the spring of my sophomore year after a terrible fall semester. I decided that living on campus was making it difficult to find my inner peace, and I felt that living at our alternative campus, Pine Lake, would be a better option for me. Morgan S., Tristan, and Morgan M. welcomed me into their home with open hearts and arms. I found a supportive community in our tiny cabin, and I began to understand parts of myself that I hadn't before. I've also never spent so much time laughing and smiling with a group of people before. When we weren't talking about the different philosophies of life, social issues, or classes, we were often being the goofiest losers you could imagine... making strange noises, dancing around the cabin, playing pranks on each other...You name it, it happened. I'm so thankful for my time with them. I left that semester feeling grounded, clear-eyed, and brave.

The boots sit on the counter as Morgan continues to dig through her clothing, packing away each garment into a huge suitcase. The soles of the shoes are starting to rip, the calves are getting loose and stretched out, the buckles look ratty, the black is fading to a strange dirt color. She says that she'll think about bringing the boots to London, but that their time is probably up. This has made me cry even harder.

Through the waterworks, I smiled at the worn boots and thought about how much life they've seen. With tears running down my face, I hugged Morgan. I am so proud of her for all that she's accomplished, and I can't wait to see where else her path takes her. She hugged me back, and I realized that the boots were insignificant. It warmed my heart to think about all they've done with Morgan, and I realized that it's okay to let go...to say "see ya later" to these silly boots because that's all this is...a see ya later.

Thank you.

My brother likes to pick on our five-year-old sister every once in a while by telling her a "knock knock" joke. The conversation usually goes something like this:

Jefferson: "Knock knock, Sophia!"

Sophia: "Who der?"

Jefferson: "You're adopted!! HAHA!"

Sophia: "No I not! I a big girl!"

Everyone in the house laughs and laughs until our stomachs start to hurt. We are the type of family where nothing is sacred, not even the usually sensitive subject of adoption. Sophia has books upon books about diverse families and how mommy and daddy chose to care for her and bring her home. We're not always sure she understands exactly what we're referring to, but undoubtedly she knows how important and loved she is.

From the early age of ten, I have always had different children living with me in my home. I learned quickly to share my toys and space with kids that I had never met. These children were part of the foster care system and often came from homes where their parents couldn't take care of them yet or from homes with abuse.

My parents always told us that these children were a part of our family and they were treated exactly as that. When a foster sibling had a birthday, we all celebrated together. When the other kids and I were slacking on chores, we all got yelled at together. When Christmas rolled around, we all received the same beautiful presents from Santa. When we took family photos, we all stood together, arms wrapped around backs and smiling wide (or scowling, depending on the day). This is and always has been my family.

Many of those children didn't stay for more than a year or so, and just like when you lose someone you love, we grieved the loss of a sibling when they would return home. I have said goodbye to so many kids, and as an adult, I often find myself wondering where they are, how they're doing, what they look like, if they're still just as annoying as they were when they were living with us, etc. It saddens me that I know I'll never be able to answer those questions, but I know that they must be good people because they learned from and were loved by my parents.

Even though many left, I didn't have to say goodbye to all of the children who stopped by our home. I am blessed with two beautiful sisters who never left and are officially Elisofon's for life. So, to the children who stayed:

Thank you for changing my life. Thank you for coming into my family and making it whole. There aren't enough words in the English language to describe how proud I am to call you both my sisters and to love you through the good, the bad and the ugly. You have made me a better person; a person who tries to understand different walks of life; a person who hopes to make change in the world; a person who wants to help those in need.

You have shown me that family is so much more than blood and that love is bountiful and easy to share if you open your heart. Even though you may not share the same genetics as the rest of us, you're absolutely just as messed up (you're welcome)!

To the children who stayed, thank you for loving us back.

A different way to interact with the world around you.

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"

"What will you do once you graduate?"

"What's on your to-do list today?"

"You watched Netflix all day? Don't you have something better to be doing?"

                                                   PAUSE

Have you ever stopped just for a moment and observed the world moving around you? Have you ever had a seat and noticed the breeze moving through the dancing leaves, or the small bird perched on your porch rail, or the way the cat lounges on the pavement, basking in the sunlight? It's beautiful, isn't it?

It's so strange in our society to just absorb the energy and life that happens around us. To be uninvolved in something seems like a waste of talent or an uninterest in living a full life...But the things we cannot control or play a part in, like nature, have the most lessons to teach us.

Americans are constantly taught to "do" rather than "be." If we cannot do, then we are deemed unimportant. That's why, in our society, people who cannot actively contribute in a way that society deems suitable are often cast aside or are seen as a burden. We do this to the elderly, people with disabilities, the poor...It's a sad cycle of neglect. If only we could learn to see the beauty in existing...simply being present and giving others a reason to smile.

I took a class in the fall of 2015 about death and dying in America with a fantastic professor named Sandy. He is this crazy, hippie, nomadic Buddhist who lived in India for seven years. He changed my life and the way I view living... I'll forever be grateful for the lessons I learned from him.

Our class started each Tuesday and Thursday in a small cabin by the lake. We all grabbed small cushions and blankets and formed an open circle. Sandy began his meditation mantra....

"May I be well. May I be content and at peace.

May my mother and father be well. May they be content and at peace.

May my family be well. May they be content and at peace.

May my friends be well. May they be content and at peace.

May my enemies be well. May they be content and at peace.

May the earth and all living beings be well. May they be content and at peace."

We sat in silence, eyes closed, legs crossed, and thought the words along with Sandy as he spoke them aloud. After he finished the mantra, he rang a small bell three times and then a blanket of silence swept across the small room. All was quiet except for the sounds of nature... geese honking on the lake, chipmunks scuffling through the fallen leaves, small birds chirping among the trees. Sometimes the sound of rain would fill our cabin as it fell from the sky and hit the roof in a soft cascade.

The goal of this mediation was to hear all that was happening around us, but to not think about it...to absorb the sounds of nature, and to recognize that we were not in control of those actions...to simply "be" and enjoy the idea of being present for such tremendous acts of an omnipotent power. All thoughts that may have escaped our focus would go directly back to the breath...the movement of air filling our lungs, and the rising of our chests...the feeling of the air leaving our bodies. In and out. Breathing deeply, noticing that the breath will happen whether we think about it or not...a natural human bodily function. Breathing and "being" are similar in that way.

We talked about the relationship between dying and "being" in American society after our meditation was finished. Americans are inherently afraid of death...we are taught in our culture that death is something taboo...it happens to other people, but not to us. We pretend not to see or understand what death really is, and that makes our relationship with death an extremely strange encounter. Out of sight, out of mind.

Americans are supposed to deal with death the same way that they'd deal with an inconvenience...You have a little time off to gather yourself, people offer you condolences and food to last an entire lifetime, and after that short 2 week grace period, your feelings should have vanished and you should be able to function normally in everyday social situations. This, of course, is completely unreasonable, as anyone who has gone through the grieving process knows that your heart will hurt for an eternity after losing a loved one.

Because of our strange relationship with death in the working world, we choose not to see anything that may remind us of our impermanence. How could we possibly do so much during a lifetime and have it turn out that it was all for nothing? To end up in the same place as everyone else? The dying process is a state of "being" that inherently makes everyone uncomfortable. People who are actively dying can no longer give back to their society. They simply live out the rest of their days being human. In order to avoid dealing with this stage of life, our society pushes all of the sick and old people into homes where they will be taken care of and will most likely live out the rest of their time on earth.

We finished each class with a discussion about the dying process in America and a smaller session of meditation. After the bell was struck for the third time, we would all stretch and head back to campus to continue our day as if we hadn't just finished discussing such a deep topic. Everything would go back to normal and we would begin our fast paced days of "doing."

There's so much more I could tell you about such an intricate and delicate subject, but I'll leave you with this....I hope this piece gives you a bit of comfort. I hope that maybe you find some inspiration to explore meditation and the different ways to "be" rather than "do." Not to say that you shouldn't be striving to do something great with your life, because you should! But maybe just think about this part of ourselves and the world that we neglect. I hope you think about dying and start to work towards understanding death in a healthy way. I hope you visit a loved one who may be sick or in a nursing home and give them some comfort and companionship. I hope you find time to absorb energy from the earth and think about your life and the way it interacts with the greater powers of our world. I hope you exist today and learn something new about the universe, and I hope you find something meaningful in your exploration.

11 pick-me-up quotes for times when all hope seems lost.

Having a breakthrough in the field that you love is an indescribable feeling...It's as if a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders...your breathing is suddenly deep and calm. There's a feeling of balance that wasn't once there before.

I've always struggled with my confidence in performing classical music. I wasn't at all interested in it when I first started out in school. I thought it was too "square" for me. I thought my voice couldn't make "those" sounds. I had never tried, and I didn't want to. After a lot of push back, and me just simply being an asshole, I decided to open my mind to something new. After my change of heart, I found a deep love and passion for an art form that I had never once considered for myself, and now I don't know what I'd do without it.

I started out bold and unafraid to perform, but just as it happens to every single artist, my confidence slowly began falling apart. I realized I wasn't as sure of what I was doing as I thought I was. I realized how much work and effort it would take to pursue opera professionally, and I was terrified. I wasn't sure I could devote an entire lifetime to perfecting my art form.

After the first three years of struggling through my undergrad, I was sure giving up my music would be my best bet to a successful postgraduate life. I was struggling to produce the sounds and use the healthy singing techniques I'd need to be a legitimate performer. To make sure I wasn't making any rash or crazy decisions, I decided to do a 10 day intense opera workshop in Binghamton to push myself and to discover what it was I actually wanted. We had movement classes, creative process classes, diction classes, private lessons, and a master class each evening. It was hard work, but absolutely worth it.

The artist that stood in front of the class on the first night of the program was not the Margaret that looks back at me in the mirror each day. She was scared, shy, apologetic, and uncomfortable. She was a hot mess honestly, and I wanted to punch her in the schnoz. The Margaret I know is bold. She is kind and welcoming. She's comfortable in her own skin, and hopes to make connections with people. I love her, and I wanted to find a way for her to shine through when I sang pieces like Verdi's "Caro nome" or Mozart's "Ach! ich fühl's." I wanted to move people to explore their own feelings about life and loss.

After several realizations and a lot of crying, the final day of the program rolled around, which happened to be our final concert. We would each perform two solo pieces in front of an audience to show all that we learned during our time studying. I was sure I'd die up there, but through a lot of self discovery and hard work, I had a break through. The Margaret that performed was calm and warm. She was unapologetic and humble. It was a tremendous feeling, and now that I've finally found my confidence, nothing seems impossible. I finally feel unafraid to be the musician I want to be. I've got a long way to go, but this feels like a huge leap in the right direction.

Through my time studying music, I've gained an infinite amount of advice about performing, working to move audiences, and creating honest and beautiful music. I looked to a lot of these quotes as I worked through my self doubt, and I thought I'd share with you some of my favorite pieces of advice in hopes of inspiring you in whatever you do! You may not be a musician, but you can surely apply these beautiful words to any part of your life. I hope you finish reading this feeling at ease and grounded.

"Pain and breath conveniently come from the center of the body." - Carol Castel

"Sing the wrong notes, and sing them beautifully." - Carol Castel

 "You should enjoy failure...it teaches you something." - Carol Castel

"The earth isn't nervous, so pull all of the calming energy from the earth through your feet and into your body." - Cindy Donaldson

"If you feel like you said something, you're doing something. It doesn't matter where you are in your education or career." - Scott Bergeson

"If you don't want to be big, don't do opera!" - Carol Castel

"We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams." - Arthur O'Shaughnessy

"To be hopeful means to be uncertain about the future, to be tender toward possibilities, to be dedicated to change all the way down to the bottom of your heart." - Rebecca Solnit

"My prayer is that you'll make music, too. Maybe not with your voice, and maybe not on a stage, but hopefully with your life." - Lecrae

"I am filled with humility. I am just one piece of the whole." - Robin Seletsky

Words To Live By, Carol Castel

"Is it honest? Is it kind?"

"Surround yourself with beautiful things and people."

"Be creative about your life, it's a lot less boring that way."

Today has been a quiet day. I'm struggling to find reasons to be happy and excited each day, so I thought I'd just list some of the things that I love about spending time at home.

This summer definitely has not been what I expected it to be. Between not being able to find a job that gives me hours, being lonely, and being several hundred dollars in debt, I've forgotten that even though I feel stuck, there's still good stuff happening around me that I should be appreciating. I have a wonderful family that supports me in every single thing I do, food to eat, and an air conditioned home that has saved me from several heat strokes this summer. There's so much to be thankful for.

I love people. For the most part. Okay. Like 97% of the time, I truly love people.

I love watching the way a person wraps their arms inside their jacket when it’s a bit breezy at night.

I love how wonderful homemade popcorn tastes when it's freshly popped.

I love snuggling up with a soft blanket and watching Once Upon A Time.

I love the way people walk down the street holding hands with a loved one.

I love the way a parent puts their child on their shoulders when it’s busy on the sidewalk.

I love the way my sister greets me each morning with a smile and a giant hug.

I love smiles.

I love to smile.

I love smiling at people.

I love when they smile back.

I love the way sunshine kisses my skin, and leaves a soft red glow on the surface after a day of wandering.

I love the way my heart pounds inside my chest as I go for my run each morning.

I love the way my muscles ache after a good workout.

I love the way my sister gently encourages me to push my limits and breathe deeply during our workouts.

I love the way fresh kale crunches in a salad.

I love the way gouda cheese and apples compliment each other so well.

I love the sound of my scooter rumbling to a start.

I love how musical the sound of birds chirping is.

I love the way old friends greet you with soft kisses on your cheek and a small embrace.

I love the sound of a wind chime when the breeze blows just right.

I love the way my 5 year old sister splashes in the pool and dunks her head under water.

I love when people go out of their way to be kind just because they want to be.

I love the way my 5 year old sister smiles when she drops her entire plate in her lap at the dining room table.

I love the whir of the air conditioner in my room.

I love how warm my bed is each night despite the cold air circling the room.

I love the way my mom puts smiley faces at the ends of her text messages.

I love the way the night goes dark, and the sky instantly becomes twinkly and bright.

I love spending time with my family each day.

I love getting to know my siblings a little better each day.

I love being home for the summer.