"Our Revels Now Are Ended"

          I always start the semester with the best intentions to keep up on this whole blogging thing in addition to being in school full time and working at the glitter-covered craft haven that is the Alpine Michaels. And somehow that never happens. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by now; it's happened exactly like this several times before. But this time around, I find myself in a more profound sadness that the semester is ending.
          In a little under 48 hours I'll be starting my final final of this fall semester. I'm ready to be done. In a little over 48 hours some of the people I hold nearest and dearest to me will return home to their families to enjoy the holiday season.  I'm glad they will. I personally am blessed to see my family on a semi-consistent basis throughout the semester, but not everyone is able to do that. But the sense of everyone leaving for the holidays, exactly when I'd want them here most, is sobering. 

"Our revels now are ended" (The Tempest IV.i)

          Though I should clarify that my semester hasn't been filled with drinking and dancing as is typical when thinking of "reveling," I must say the lively enjoyment that also accompanies "reveling" has still has found its way into my life. It's been a very Shakespeare-filled semester. Until I dove head-first into the Shakespeare world, I didn't really realize so much joy, entertainment, and insight on the human experience could come of one author who lived four hundred years ago. And yet, I think that is what art does to us. It changes us, in very practical terms, in ways we can't describe. While my life is nothing like The Tempest at all, the idea of being "such stuff as dreams are made on" cuts me to the very core. The fact that the semester's revels now are ended... it hurts, to be brutally honest. It means that the number of concerts I have left to perform as a Calvin student can be counted on one hand. It means that the number of times I have reason to get together with friends to "study" are quickly decreasing. It means that within a matter of months a large percentage of the Calvin population will leave, maybe for good, and then a couple of months after that I'll leave too. 

"Then sigh not so, but let them go, 
And be you blithe and bonny, 
Converting all your sounds of woe 
Into hey, nonny nonny."

(Much Ado About Nothing II.iii)

          And my oldest Shakespearean love, Much Ado, reminds me that this is the way things have always been. This process of growing and changing, leaving one place and going to another, or watching the world change around you happens every day. Sigh not so over things you can't change, but be cheerful and turn all your sad songs into songs of joy. There are so many things from this semester that I'll miss. But I'm coming out of this semester different than I was going in, with memories that will put a smile on my face for years to come. So with that, 

"Goodnight, sweet [people], and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." (Hamlet V.ii)

          And by rest, I mean temporary rest, not a permanent rest like in the case of Hamlet. No matter your walk of life, I hope the holiday season brings you joy and peace. I hope the advent season renews your spirit and fills your soul with an overwhelming sense of love from those around you and mostly from our Savior, who we celebrate this time of year. And to those who will be returning to share in more adventures at Calvin, I look forward to another semester of your smiles and laughter, encouragement, Shakespeare quotes, good food, music, and caffeine.

"If music be the food of love, play on!" (Twelfth Night I.i)

I am a Warrior: A Manifesto for Senior Year

       As a little girl, I never wanted to be a warrior when I grew up. Never was real interested in the prospect of violence, to be honest. I opted more for (seemingly) peaceful things:  an explorer (though I'm not sure where that came from because nature is definitely not my thing), a lawyer,  a teacher. Looking back, I wish I would've been more interested in being a warrior. And by warrior, I mean mostly that in the metaphoric sense. In reality, I don't condone violence really, but the warrior spirit runs deep in my veins.
       My family history is a little all over the place, but I know there's Scandinavian blood in me and Celtic blood in me. Both of these cultures fascinate me, with a bit of a heavier emphasis on the Celtic currently; nonetheless these peoples were both known for being warriors-- skilled warriors. Between the Scandinavians and the Celts, they fought battles reminiscent of the story Beowulf and battles like something you'd find straight out of Lord of the Rings (minus the orcs and dwarves and such). Even if all memory of these ancestors is lost, they were warriors and they played some part in who I am today. I'd be a different person in terms of genetics, but also in terms of identity should I not be some weird mix of many deep, rich, and at times war-like cultures and heritages. My last name, "Alexander" even has the warrior spirit embedded deep in it. It was derived from the Greek name Alexandros; from what I've read, in the vernacular it meant "defender of men" but literally means "repulser of the enemy." I can't think of any name I'd rather have... not necessarily that I prize repulsing people, but the fact that literally in the name I was given, I am called to be a defender of humanity. To fight for the good of those around me.
       All of this to say, I'm realizing more and more each day that I'm a fighter. Sometimes people fall into viewing me as the sort of "delicate flower" type, but let me tell you, that could not be more wrong. I suppose I have moments of delicacy, but who doesn't? And so this is my challenge for senior year. To expel passivity from my life and fight for what I think is important. To push myself to be the best I can be-- academically, physically, spiritually, in relationships, and at work--but also to take time to realize that you have to choose your battles. I'm one who tends to push myself to the absolute limit, but no battle can be won solely on two hours of sleep and a boatload of coffee. 
       I sit here now, a product of one, where I came from, two, the last few months and the changes that have taken place in my life, and three, where I am going in the future. I'm stronger now than I ever was before. It's my last full year at Calvin with all the people I've come to love as a second family. So let's do this senior year thing. I'm ready for all the battles that are coming my way. And for the much anticipated time of peace and rest, though I never plan on losing the warrior spirit inside.

The Little Things

           Sometimes, it's the little things in life that get you. In a bad way at times, but it seems like a better way to go about life to reflect on the good things. I have a lot of little things I should be doing currently because the semester ends way sooner than I think it does, but some days I like to just sit and think about the good things in my life.
           I have so many good things in my life that I couldn't name them all if I tried. The stereotypical things that fill in the blank "I am thankful for..." are the big things. I love and appreciated the big things. The little things though are what get stuck in my head and make me smile at the end of the day; they are the things that keep me going through the difficult and uncertain times.
           For the semester, I am a student aid (like a student teacher, but less work and teaching) at Grand Rapids Christian High School. Let's just say even though I have to get up at 6 a.m. every morning to be there, it is absolutely worth it. I've grown to love a community and a student body. Every day after I drive back to Calvin, I have a 5-10 minute walk from my car to my next class, so I have time to think about all the little things I enjoyed that day. And it's not usually things like "My class behaved so well!" or "Every student got to have input for this topic!" or even "The students had fun today and learned something!" Those are all good things, but I remember the little things. When one student was so thankful for my help that he gave me an AppleJack for every question I helped him with. When I made the mistake of telling my students that my last day was in a couple of weeks and they were all so sad. When I ask if anyone has any questions and my freshmen ask how my day is going. When a few of my juniors decide to roll their desks outside and look in the window to class while we were working on some practice problems (this made me laugh far too much). Every day when my cooperating teacher proves she is the coolest. I could definitely keep going, but some of my little joys come from things other than aiding as well:

           On orchestra tour when I got to give a little 5 minute talk to some high school classes about what I love about Calvin--and after the fact when my friends told me I was really funny, or sounded really cute while talking, or that it was cool when they could see me transform from cellist Heather to teacher Heather in a high school setting. If you haven't gathered this by now, I think high schoolers are the best :) 

           Sometimes it's the odd little things-- a funny face my stand-partner makes at me while attempting to not die when sight-reading in rehearsal, or bad puns my friends insist on making (they can never resist...). Getting donuts in chem seminar and making snarky comments (snark also pleases me much more than it should). Wearing a pair of chopsticks--that were given to me by a friend who actually got them in Hong Kong!--in my hair and feeling good about how it looks. Watching an episode of Bones and feeling like I've been reunited with old friends. Actually being reunited with old friends. Hugs. The Lark Ascending. Really good salads. Remembering that my cousin named her cat Salad when she was little.  Looking at old pictures. Shostakovich Beyoncé. Many other little things amuse me and bring me joy, but there was a laundry list of ones I've thought about recently.
           Simultaneously, while I reflect on the little things, I remember Robert Frost's poem Nothing Gold Can Stay. It goes like this:

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower,

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

On the surface, it's a very Melancholy poem, however it has acted as a sort of comfort to me as well. It's really hard to grapple with the fact that this amazing time at Calvin won't last forever, nor should it. I wouldn't want to live under this much stress for the rest of time. But my heart aches every time I realize that once I graduate, I won't be part of this community to the extent that I am now. Nothing gold can stay. My friends will be spread out all around the world doing what they were placed on this earth to do. I'm thankful for the influence of social media in that regard, but a Facebook message can not replace a real face-to-face conversation or chat over a meal. Such is the human condition I suppose. This poem, my own personal memento mori, forces me to enjoy all the little things now. I guess I live in some weird kind of limbo between these two. But that's what keeps life interesting. Love the little things and appreciate them while they last.

This is How I Feel About Winter

A Walk Among The Trees

The trees along the path quake in the breeze.

I too shake, our limbs alike in the cold.

The heavens give us snow,

But it is too much!

All is buried.

When it thaws, hope will come to us again—

Until then, our brittle lungs will ache; the air hinder our bodies and sadden our souls.

(This poem is written solely with words that come from Anglo-Saxon/ Old English roots--with the exception of "until." It used to say, "up to" so every single word had an OE ancestor, but I though "until" flowed better.)