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Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia-Marquez

"He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves."

Meaningful Conversation CAN Change the World

             It’s time that we all take a step back and do whatever it is the time for. I find great comfort in wise words, whether they be simple or not. Some of my favorite words come from Ecclesiastes 3:8:

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

²     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

Right now is the time to breathe and the time to have dialogue. Everyone is so polarized—not just during election season and not just after a massacre. Everyone is constantly polarized.

Today, Pope Benedict XVI reaffirmed the Catholic Church’s commitment to defending “traditional marriage,” stating:

“People dispute the idea that they have a nature, given to them by their bodily identity that serves as a defining element of the human being. They deny their nature and decide that it is not something previously given to them, but that they make it for themselves. The manipulation of nature, which we deplore today where our environment is concerned, now becomes man’s fundamental choice where he himself is concerned.”

Today, Wayne LaPierre, the NRA presser, declared that “Kindergarten Killers,” an online game, is to blame for the mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary school. Oh, also that a database of the mentally ill needs to be created.

On Wednesday, Charlotte Allen wrote that it was because Sandy Hook was so “feminized,” having no adult males, that the shooter was able to take so many lives.

 “But in general, a feminized setting is a setting in which helpless passivity is the norm. Male aggression can be a good thing, as in protecting the weak — but it has been forced out of the culture of elementary schools and the education schools that train their personnel. Think of what Sandy Hook might have been like if a couple of male teachers who had played high-school football, or even some of the huskier 12-year-old boys, had converged on Lanza.”

 I myself swing myself all the way to the other side of the pendulum. I believe that gender is a social construct and that sexuality is on a continuum. I believe that while the culture has to change, access to guns must also be restricted. And I absolutely believe that the female teachers at Sandy Hook Elementary School did anything and everything that a male teacher could have done in that same situation.

Poster by Julia Rothman

I, too, contribute to the polarization of our nation. I get cringe at the mention of Todd Akin and I can’t bear to watch more than ten minutes of the NRA press conference. I get upset when someone tells me—even jokingly—to get back in the kitchen. I walk away when conversation turns political and my views are the minority. I don’t always have the energy to be fighting the fight, and that’s what this all is: a fight. We argue, we argue, we argue. Once we have found the way that we believe is right, we close our ears. We need to start having dialogue, rather than debate, to share our own experiences rather than undermining those of others. The argument never ends, never solves any problems; it only creates more.

This is my commitment to listen. This is my commitment to being heard. This is my commitment to dialogue, not debate. To sitting with people and enjoying our differences and our similarities. This is my commitment to never stop learning, to never thinking I know it all. I trust that meaningful conversation can change the world.

"What do you do with a sentimental heart?" --Zooey Deschanel

Hi. Yesterday was the real beginning of the end [of my time in college]. I'm officially a second semester senior. At the end of each of the past six semesters my friends get together for a big celebration. It's interesting to see how, since freshman year, our friend groups have evolved, grown, and shrunk. It made me sentimental--excuse me, it evoked feelings from my already extremely sentimental heart--and made me sad to think that after May, who knows when I'll see these people again? But I know that I'm ready to move out of St. Louis, to go try new things and to go meet new people. It's just that I'll also miss these people. So here's to second semester of senior year with the friends I love.

For Megan Boken (23) and Emilie Parker (6) by Hilary Korabik

Emilie Parker (6)

Megan Boken (23)

Here’s a poem I wrote for Megan Boken, a Saint Louis University graduate who was killed this summer while visiting St. Louis and for Emilie Parker, one of the victims of the Sandy Hook shooting.

 Contagious:

“her laugh, her laugh her laugh.”

In my heart I am holding your souls,

and I can feel you holding me back.

We are all blue-eyed blondes

with distinct laughs.

Now you two are angels, and I can feel

the flutter of your laughter echoing

my heartbeat.

Milan Kundera writes:

“The two sisters stretched out on their bed are not laughing

at anything concrete,

their laughter has no object;

it is an expression of being, rejoicing at being.”

You are still being, beating

in our hearts and in our memories;

your laughter is a whisper,

a reminder to ‘rejoice at being,’

for we never know how long we shall ‘be’ here.

In August and December I could feel

my heart hanging on a string,

the only thing holding it together was

your laughter.

Laughter and tears are lovers

who cannot bear to be left alone for too long;

today we are crying and in a few

we will laugh, because just as laughter

brings tears, tears inevitably

remind us to rejoice at our being,

to laugh, laugh, laugh.

A little love goes a long way.

My mom has terms of endearment for all her children. Tom is her sweet love because he came home on Valentine's Day. Chris is her precious love. I am her little love. When I was growing up, I felt like my name wasn't as special, but today I am thinking about how a little love can go a long way.

Many times I feel, though I have no children, that I am a mother in this world. I am a mother to everyone I love, in some way or another. The shootings in Connecticut today have brought out that feeling of tenderness and love that I so often feel. In the love that I give and the works that I create, I am a mother. Today, those feelings are magnified and I can feel myself holding close the children I will someday have, whether they be my own biological children, my own adopted children, the children of my brothers, or the children of my friends. And at this time, I can feel my heart holding all the children who were killed today.

Mother Teresa once said, "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." We all belong to each other. We need to hold each other close, to tell people that we love them, to show people that we love them, and to remember that we have to love each other not only in spite of, but also because of our differences. Today I am praying that we, in our shared humanity, will be able to come together and give what love we have, to remember that we belong to each other, to remember that if ever the humanity of one person is diminished, then the humanity of everyone is diminished.

I have two videos to share. One is President Barack Obama's address regarding the Newtown, Connecticut Shooting. The other is of spoken-word poet Andrea Gibson, performing her poem "Birthday." We all need to recognize the humanity in each other. I hope that today and every day we can hold each other close and love each other for who we all are.

If I am able, I will do it.

Photo courtesy of notetoself.typepad.com

My senior quote in my high school year book is from Ani DiFranco's "Brief Bus Stop": "And she said, yeah, my life may not be something special, but it's never been lived before."

I am determined to live a life that is fully mine, that no one has ever experienced before or will ever experience again. Sometimes it's scary--probably more for my parents than for me--but most of the time it's exciting.

When I was coming home from studying abroad, someone told me that the best part of my life was over. The best part of my life is not over just because one adventure has come to a close. There are so many things that I will still do, and some of them will be even more rewarding than my study abroad experience. There are so many things that I do and am planning to do precisely because I'm afraid to do them. So many people say "I wish I could do ____," or "If ______ then I would do _______." I know that I am a person who will do the things that I want to do. I've always regretted the times I haven't, whether it be traveling somewhere, saying something to someone, or getting out of my bed on time.

Right now, as I'm preparing to graduate from college, I don't have a set career path. Some people would find that terrifying; I find it exciting. I can do whatever I want. One thing that I know I want to do is to be a certified doula, a birthing assistant. What is something you've dreamed of doing but are hesitant to do?

" 'What day is it?' asked Pooh. 'It's today,' squeaked Piglet. 'My favorite day,' said Pooh."

            In high school, I was so consistent with my blogging. Since then, I’ve tried to keep it up but have not been able to for various reasons. I put a lot of pressure on myself for everything I write to be good. I’m a perfectionist in and odd way because I don’t want things to be perfect; I want everything to be perfectly imperfect. I want myself to be perfectly imperfect and I have a vision in my mind of what that’s supposed to look like. Maybe I just have a different idea of perfection than other people do. And I can’t hold myself to that standard anymore because it’s not fair. So I am writing again, blogging again, and I am only holding myself to the standard of making sure that whatever I write is purely me, whatever that may be. I promise you and I promise myself that my soul will shine through my writing, that my writing will be honest, that my writing will be Hilary.

           

            Three minutes ago, I turned 22. I’m graduating in five months, moving to a new city in nine. I’m feeling like a woman, finally. I felt like a 16-year-old until I was 19, and after that I was in an indeterminate place, not a girl but not a woman—why don’t we have a name for that place? We’ll have to think of a name for that place because not-a-girl-but-not-yet-a-woman is a beautiful, though difficult time, and people who are there deserve a name that they can identify with if they want. But right now, I feel like a woman. And I like it. I am entering a year of transition, but I am so at peace, am so ready for it, feel so very much like I am becoming a person that I very much like. Twenty-one was a rough year, but now I am 22 and am emerging as a whole person.

            I think the most important thing I learned this year is how to take care of myself. We are taught not to spend too much time loving ourselves, not to be selfish. That’s foolish. We need to be selfish in order to be selfless. I’m still working on loving myself, but I have so much more energy to love others now that I am loving myself. I have more to give than I did a year ago; a whole person will always have more to give than half a person. I made a little poster that I put up on the wall next to my bed. On it I wrote a Brian Andreas quote. I often write about Brian Andreas, for I find so much inspiration in his simple truths.

“There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling leaves and remember that it is enough to be taken care of by myself.” –Brian Andreas

I feel that so many more people would be happy if they could only take care of themselves. It seems so simple, but it is so true.

            Today, I am 22. I will sing happy birthday to myself, will celebrate my life, will take care of myself but appreciate when other people take care of me. This year is a year of love, of loving others and of loving myself. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday, sweet Hilary, happy birthday to me.