Neighbors

I have read that apartment complexes are less personal than neighborhoods. Seems that since people do not own the land they live in and are more likely to move frequently, no one takes the time to get to know their neighbors. In my complex, this appears to be the case, for although I've said hello at times to my neighbors while passing on the stairwell, I can't say I know anyone's name. Its an anonymous living and it affords a privacy I appreciate, yet there is something about knowing your neighbors that gives you a sense of belonging and well-being.

This morning I took my first cup of coffee outside to enjoy the crisp air of a new day with the contrast of the hot liquid waking me up. I often see my neighbors going to work during this morning ritual, and although I'm on the third story and very visible, everyone averts their eyes. I think I make quite a spectacle at times with tossled hair, a bathrobe, and slippers, out there on a ledge for all the world to see, but its as if I don't even exist. Such is the social norms of the apartment complex.

Today was different. As I sipped my steaming coffee and admired the hills behind my complex, two of my neighbors in the building behind mine left the comfort of their little homes to head off in seperate directions. Both were on the upper story, and both were accompanied by their wives. I had often seen each of them leaving thier building on seperate occasions, and rarely they would pass each other going opposite directions on the stairwell. Each would offer the cursory 'hello' and then be on their way.

The first couple are older and have lived here longer than I have. Most likely they have a son; I've seen him visit a couple times in my two years here. They seem to love cats, and have four or five of them. At night the husband jingles his keys until all the cats come running so he can put them inside. Sometimes he has to call them by name and walk around the building a few times, but they all eventually show up on his doorstep, rubbing his legs and swiping at each other.

The other couple are younger people and they have two little ones that live with them. They are hispanic, as a good amount of people in this complex are, and the husband occasionally fixes up old cars to sell. He's had a couple nice ones in our parking lot and always gets them running well. She's usually with the kids, but when she's not she's dressed to kill. Their children are full of energy and carefree and sometimes it amazes me how well thier mother keeps up.

The younger couple was moving furniture on their way out this morning, a big white dresser almost as tall as they were. The older couple locked their door and as they were heading out, noticed the burden the two young ones were carrying. "Need some help?" the husband asked. The young man nodded as he pointed down the stairs. In a moment, both men were carefully lifting the dresser and shuffling towards the stairs. Slowly they desended, the white haired neighbor holding the dresser high to compensate for the angle. The other crouched above, placing his feet around the dresser and making sure it was steady. Both women watched from the landing as the two worked together to get the heavy furniture to ground level. Finally reaching thier common goal, the dresser was placed on the ground and smiles broke out on each man's face as they looked at each other. The older women took her husband's arm and gave him one of those adoring looks only couples can share, then she looked up and smiled at me. The two couples, once joined in a common pursuit, now went their seperate ways to enter thier seperate worlds, but there was a lightness about each of them I hadn't noticed on other mornings.

For me, as I watched from my perch high above, it was the perfect introduction to the day. Neighbors who for so long had been strangers to one another, now helping each other and sharing a moment of real human interaction. It was a great way to start the day and seemed to bring the entire complex a little closer together, if only in my mind. Privacy is wonderful, but there are certainly those times when human generosity, extended to a virtual stranger, can touch your life in a way solitude never can.

A Place Called Home

I have lived in the same place for over two years now and I have to say I've grown pretty comfortable with it. I had almost nothing when I moved into this one bedroom apartment, and it seemed so huge then. Now, the stuff I have accumulated over the years has filled out the space nicely, and it really does feel like home. At times I have said that my apartment is like one big bedrooom simply because I have felt so comfortable here. The view from the third story overlooks a greenway with lush trees on the hills. At night I have a clear angle on the stars, and during the day I can watch any weather pattern as it approaches. Both inside and out, my little home suits me well, and I have been very happy here for the longest period of time since I moved out of my childhood home.

In my kitchen, I have a plaque that says "It's a funny thing about life: if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it." Considering that I have begun to wonder and dream about another place of my own. About a place I could own and truely call mine. A real home, with walls and hallways, and perhaps a flight of stairs; a bathroom for guests and one just for me. A place with my own driveway, a garage, and a washer and dryer. It is a wonderful vision and I would say it is the best I could ask for at this point in my life.

As I pondered my new place, I realized that I really had no pressing need for it. There is nothing about my apartment that I cannot stand, and the complaints I have had are really minor compared to the benefits I recieve from being here. I can easily afford it, its in a great location, my neighbors are quiet, and I even have a pretty good parking spot. You could say I love it here. So it is interesting to me that I should be dreaming of something more simply because I want to. There is no other reason, other than that I desire the best for myself, that I am feeling the need to expand my horizons.

This contrast of need verses want reminds me of another time in my life that I had a similar experience. I was engaged to be married to a man whom I got along with very well. We could talk, laugh, love, and we'd seen a lot together - good and bad. Our relationship was comfortable, but I wanted more. It wasn't necessarily that anything was wrong with us, it was only that I had a desire for the best and after searching my heart for what that meant to me, I knew he was not it. I broke off the engagement and in my mind it was a commitment to myself to keep dreaming, keep asking for the best in my life. I have never doubted that decision and I can say it was one of the best I've made. Now I'm facing another opportunity to make that commitment.

In a way, it is almost more meaningful that I should be searching for more, asking for more, even though I have no pressing need for it. More than just surviving, I am attempting to experience life to the fullest of my capacity. Because I don't need it and merely want it, my attempt to gain what it is I seek is an affirmation that I can get what I want from life. That my happiness is as important as my physical survival, and maybe more so. And it truly is an enhancement of my life, for what could be better than going from something I love to something I love even more? Rather than experiencing the feelings of fear that accompanies a need, I can enjoy the process of getting there.

Could it be that this is the way we were meant to live? A never ending expanding of possiblities for love and joy in our lives? Moving from place to place for the sole purpose of increasing the amount of happiness we shared with ourselves and others? It certainly may be, for even science shows us that the happy person is the healthy person.

As for myself it is an exciting journey, one that I feel confident I can take pleasure in. Not only is the vision of my own home inspiring, but it has allowed me to focus and reflect on the place I am living at now. To appreciate all it has given me, and how it has served my needs and preferences. Because I know it is time to move on, I am able to see how much I have enjoyed the place I call home, and then to release it once more.

A Rainy Day

Today is a rainy day. The clouds hang low in the sky, and everything is colored by a shade of gray. It happens quite a bit here in the pacific northwest, and the water pouring down on windsheilds and gutters today is the kind of rain that makes the area known for it. I've lived in this weather all my life and I have to say, it can be somewhat tiring day after day. Stepping outside, its not a question of if you'll get wet, its a matter of how drenched you'll be by the time you make it to shelter again.

Being on a level of acute intelligence, as I am, you'd think I'd have taken advantage of the familiar cliche, and save something nice "for a rainy day." If I had, nine months out of the year I'd be certain to get whatever reward I should want to squirrel away. But as I weaved my way through traffic and tried to make shapes appear from a water-logged car, I realized I had nothing to look forward to because of the rain. Not because I had already used it, since it has been raining for weeks now; no, I actually cannot remembering ever putting anything aside with the thought that I would use it on a rainy day.

How sad for someone who's most constant companion in the sky is water to have never taken advantage of common wisdom that would make this day much more special! How it would have changed my perspective as I splashed through puddles hoping there were no holes in my shoes, and thanked my stars that I wore waterproof mascara, to have known that at the end of the day there was something there that made it all more worthwhile.

I guess I've always wondered if taking the time to 'make' something special was even worth the effort. Oftentimes, what people refer to saving for days such as these is money, so lets suppose I had done that. Its not as if the money I would allow myself to spend today was not available to me at any other time. It would come from the same place as the rest of my dollars, either earned or as a gift, and would not suddenly appear out of nowhere. And its not like I would forget that I had saved some money for a rainy day, if I had an urgent need of it, raining or not I would certainly have spent it. So whats the point? Wouldn't it be the same to simply go shopping, or treat myself to a dinner and drinks, without the necessary weather condition and witholding?

Then again, what is it that makes any day special? For instance, my birthday: to everyone else in the world it feels like just another day. They wake up in the morning like any other day, go to work and occupy themselves like any other day, and go to bed that night like any other day. They live their lives without any awareness of the day being any different simply because of the date. And, in fact, it isn't different - for them. For me, the day is special because of what I know. I know that I was born on that day however many years ago and in my mind it is my day. All day long I get to remember and appreciate my entrance onto planet Earth, and perhaps look forward to the people in my life showering me with presents. But there really isn't anything inherently different about my birth-day, to me or anyone. The specialness comes from my attitude and my idea about it. I choose to make the day meaningful to me and so it is.

Looking at it from this perspective, it would seem that the act of saving something for a rainy day is really an opportunity to make more special days. Unlike a birthday, which you can anticipate and plan for, a rainy day can be any day, expected or not. Suddenly its raining, and for no other reason besides the one you made, the day becomes special. It could happen anywhere, and at any time, giving you a reason to be looking forward to everyday.

The positive lesson here, of course, is that it is in our power as people with mental capabilities to change our focus and make a day a little nicer for ourselves simply because we want to. Changing the way I look at the rain drops cascading down my windows doesn't change the outward fact that it is raining. Nor does it give me the ability to go outside without my hair frizzing; or make me reach for my suede jacket instead of an umbrella. All it does is remind me that I can use a simple weather pattern as a reason to be happy. And, as a person who likes to be happy, that is enough for me.