Dear Church - I Tried to Love You First

To the Church who was my very first love.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, which, in my eyes, is a truly beautiful time of meditation and thanksgiving. That may seem really out of place, but it's the truth. Sure - you get the rap of it being a time when the faithful give up sweets, coffee or, most recently, social media for 40 days, which is different from what my parents and other Catholic elders experienced- a sad and somber, long period of time where you weren't allowed to do anything remotely entertaining.

But really, both are superficial. I know these forty days are meant to be much deeper than that. 

What it is, what it's meant to be, is a time of simple living, prayer and fasting, if possible, in order to gain an intimate closeness with God. And yes, I know you mean it to be a time to truly understand the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, his journey and his suffering, but not because that was all that happened, but because, in the end, it helps us understand the ultimate sacrifice of love. 

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends. - John 15:13

The passage I heard so many times from you, the one I've always tried to follow above all else. 

A week and a few days ago, 21 Christian hostages were beheaded by ISIS fighters. 21 Christians. A few of which, it is said, yelled out the phrase "Oh God", "Oh Jesus" right before they were killed. I believe this to be the closest a human could possibly be to emulating God's perfect love. 

It's so strange to know you taught me the importance of that type love. In fact, you nurtured it, let it flourish. And I felt it - it was always so clear to me. But I never understood why so many other people did not. I never understood as I got older why the focus seemed to shift to things that were small in comparison. Maybe it's because the world is rapidly changing and you felt the need to preach about the importance of morality since no one was hearing about it anywhere else. But that message somehow began to overshadow the message of love that was clearly the root of the faith and after a while it was too much to handle. Certain subjects were bearable and I could even swallow, but there is one subject in particular that was too personal to ignore. 

I can't even remember why or when but somehow homosexuality became such a hot topic. Like truly and overly talked about. All over the news. Catholic bloggers who I followed talked about it. People came out of the shadows proclaiming they used to be gay, writing articles about how they came to see the light and understand that their lifestyle was wrong. And fast-forward to a few months ago when Pope Francis shared a bit of a mercy with a message of tolerance for the LGBT community, many were in an uproar. It was and still is mind boggling to see the lack of love that is so apparent when it concerns the gay community.

What I do remember is the message that kept reappearing during the Prayers of the Faithful ...

For the sanctity of marriage - one man, one woman. Let us Pray to the Lord: Lord hear our prayer. 

That message doesn't mean or read anything other than what it says, but it was that with everything else that I couldn't handle anymore. All the media. All the announcements from people I love and trusted. The occasional sermon dedicated to the topic. 

It all just made me feel so unbearably guilty.

I want you to know how hard I actually tried to ignore my feelings. I tried to let them go, sweep them under the rug, telling myself it was a phase. I reassured myself I felt this way because I had a new-secular-type job with more access to worldly things, therefore causing me to have sinful, lustful thoughts that needed to be stated every time I went to confession. I even prayed for myself. I even tried to date boys in order to at least follow your teachings. I even think I may have loved one of them. Maybe so, but the connection simply wasn't there. Who am I kidding? It's never really been there for the opposite sex. 

Just know that through it all I wanted so much to love you first. I tried so hard to love you first, okay?

I just couldn't ignore it anymore. 

I couldn't ignore the fact that I asked one of my best friends in the fifth grade what she thought it felt like to be gay. I couldn't ignore that in middle school I fell for a girl in my group therapy session. In high school, I exchanged a notebook of secrets with a girl who was two years older than me and became my first real case of puppy love - it makes me smile just to think of how jealous I was every time she wrote about her crushes and relationships in our book. In college, I fell for a girl, so much harder than I had for anyone else. I followed her everywhere. I met her between classes for coffee. And when she couldn't meet me between classes, I bought her Iced Venti Non-Fat Chai Teas and took them to her. But I never said a word to anyone. 

I'd ignored it all my life and I just couldn't do it anymore.

And when I met her, I didn't want to ignore it anymore.

I knew it was real, she was real. My life and my feelings were no phase and this something lustful. She was a testament to my journey, a battle within myself, the chance to prove to myself how willing I was to fight for it. And my love for her helped me do it for me. It is her, who is good and funny and makes me smile. She's the person who was my friend before she became my girlfriend, from whom I've never kept any secrets. Who has helped me feel whole even when I'm not with her. Who helps me be who I really am. Who encourages me to be an individual, the best I can be on my own. She has seen me at my very worst and at my most vulnerable, when I lost many friendships after they knew I had finally accepted a part of who I was, when people I loved slandered me and prayed for me because they didn't understand my life choices. And when I've shut down, she has never let me stay there, always helping me to get back to a place of goodness. 

And if that's not real love you taught me - the selfless kind, not founded on the physical or the sexual -  I don't know what is. 

But please, don't ever confuse this poorly written yet honest blog post with the fact that it has actually been a very difficult process to let you go. 

I want you to know I distanced myself from you not because you are full of hypocrites, judgmental and imperfect people who make too many mistakes- I actually hate it when people say that. I am one of those people, learning each day from the wrongs that I want to right, my sins no better or worse than the rest of the human race. I distanced myself because trying to be in love with you first didn't allow me to love myself at all. It didn't allow me to accept or live a day without thinking that the world had brainwashed me, that because of my decision to accept myself and love someone I wasn't supposed to love made everything negative that happened thereafter a direct consequence of the bad choices I had made.

My God - I was and am more than gay. And although I've suffered greatly for it, I needed to let myself live enough to let everyone see that.

Just know that I am not angry or mad - I had to learn to let that go because it was getting me no where.What I needed to accept, what I had to accept was that harboring that type of resentment was toxic. In fact, to keep it would have been ironic, as it would have been the opposite of the message of love I so want you to make your priority again. I had to let it go. Just as I had to accept letting myself be the way that I am, I had to come to terms with our differences, making peace with the fact that unless there are changes, I don't know that I could ever be able to have an intimate closeness with you like I had before. And that's okay, because we somehow walk on our journeys separately but together as we follow the same Christ.

Regardless of who you think I may have become, I am still that same girl who loved and still loves God. I know He is the end all, say all and that, in every situation, he is who calls the shots. I simply experience my knowledge of this very differently now, finally feeling like I am able to breathe, no longer tied down and put into a box in which I didn't fit. I am free to see a Christ I've never seen before, because I am no longer hiding behind a dogma that went against my very nature. Because while there are people that fit beautifully within your walls and are the purest example of what every human should aspire to be, I can only hope to follow in their footsteps in my own way by only following the non-judging, non-threatening being who chooses to show His love for us about all else.

This Lent I, like many others, will take the journey of simplicity and prayer in order to gain closeness with God, only I will be keeping one prayer always present in my mind:

For the Church to be first and foremost a living testament of the love of God. Let us pray to the Lord: Lord hear our prayer. 

Thank you for all you have brought me and taught me. I will always love you ... but never first.

-xoxo, Rosie

How I Found My Real Voice - Part II

Accepting that I was an emotional cripple who was keeping herself from her own vocal potential wasn't exactly easy, but at least I had Neil to guide me. His main goal was to help me learn to let go, but most importantly, think differently.

You see, I was basically asking myself to get over years of thinking that wasn't all that positive. To all my fellow one-time or current perfectionistic, Catholic-guilt recovering readers out there - I'm sure you'll be able to relate to some if not all of the expectations, to which I held myself accountable, described below.

I've only added a few because, you know, character limit and such.

For 23 years, some of the over-achieving tendencies I followed - in order to gain saint-hood, apparently - are organized by bullet points for your reading pleasure:

• Judge myself every time I did something wrong. Seriously. Especially musically. I had to be the best. Every single time.

"I shouldn't have breathed in the middle of that phrase even though my face was turning blue! I suck." 

• Expecting too much of myself when I was already doing too much, resulting in disappointment when I inevitably didn't have enough time or energy to do it all. 

"Rosie - stop it. You can TOTALLY go to your voice lesson, marching band, dance class, volunteer at the woman's shelter, help the little old lady cross the street, visit the sick, go to church and choir rehearsal all in one day!"... every single time.

• Never resting.

"Rest?! What? I've got things to do. Hello? Haven't you seen my schedule!". Every single... you get it already.

• Ask myself :

"What did you do, Rosie?!" when someone treated me badly. Clearly I was always, not just sometimes, the problem. Mea culpa. 

• Reminding myself, when applicable, that it is a terrible sin to even think negatively of someone else , resulting in my being kind at all times.... even when someone was treating me like a dirty rag - closest thing to an expletive I could use for purpose of comparison. This, to be honest, was probably the worst of the offenders. 

No example. Just have to always keep in mind little reminders from people like J. Cole: Love yourself, girl, or nobody will. 

And so began the process of learning to let go.



The Resolution

To overcome 23 years of self-deprecating thoughts, Neil had me do two very repetitive, yet deeply emotional exercises.

Warning: Some expletives will follow.

Part of the story, I promise.


Exercise # 1

Says Neil, "Because you refuse to be angry at anyone other than yourself, I want you to think of the people that have hurt you the most. Like made you reeeeeaaaalllly angry but you never said anything because you couldn't or wouldn't. Do it and yell at them in the mirror:  'Fuck you!'."

"Excuse me ..."
"... what?"

"Do it."

"...Fuck you."

"Come on. What's that? You're not angry. You're just saying it to say it. Yell it, loudly, and mean it. "FUCK YOU."

"Fuck you."

"Rosie. Stop trying to be polite. There's no way that phrase could ever be polite. Grab all the anger you have and say it!"

"...Fuck you. FUCK you. FUCK ... you."

*Serious face from Neil*
"Work on it Rosie. Practice at home."


Exercise #2

Says Neil, "Lay on the floor and don't do anything. Forget about everything. Just be present. Apologize to yourself for all the times you've hurt you."

"I'm sorry, Rosie."

"Rosie. You've put yourself through a lot in 23 years. Be truly sorry...and forgive yourself."

Tears running down my face -typical - recalling years and years of self inflicted mental and sometimes physical abuse.

"I'm so sorry Rosie. Sorry for everything I've put you through. Sorry I've mistreated you and hated you and didn't value you."

"Tell yourself you love yourself."

"But I don't..."

"Do it over and over again until you do."


I did this for weeks. Over and over I yelled at the mirror while I was at home and my mother would hear me and be mortified.
Mom: ¡¿Que es eso, NIÑA?!
Translation: What are you saying, young lady?!

Me: "Estoy practicando Mami."
Translation: I'm practicing, Mom.

I laid on the floor, crying and chanting "I love you, Rosie. Please forgive me." and my mother would be at the door asking me,
Mom: "¿Que te pasa ... Alguien te hizo daño?!"
Translation: What happened? Did someone hurt you?!

Me: "No, Mami. Estoy practicando."
Translation: No, Mom. Still just practicing.

Mom: "HA. Tremenda practica."
Translation: HA. Some practicing that is.

It's a Hispanic thing.

I did this until I started to let go, more and more each time. Every note sounding a little better. Every line of music sounding more authentic. So much more open and free. 

And it's funny. It somehow helped me to stop obsessing about what people thought of me so much, too. I thought I was "bad" less often- whatever being bad even meant. Maybe started to wean out the people and things that were keeping me down.

Don't get me wrong - it wasn't like I became Sophia Petrillo overnight or anything, but I started to learn to let go, which was evident during each and every lesson. Maybe it helped that I stopped listening to Adele and started listening to Beyoncé instead.

Who run the world? Girls. 

Whatever it was, I was dedicated to being better. Stronger. Enough that there was a specific moment in time where I, along with Neil, was able to pinpoint my musical breakthrough and find my real voice. It was one of the most beautiful, rewarding, overwhelming, monumental moments I had ever had with myself. And I feel blessed that I was able to tape that session and now share that personal, intimate, imperfect yet real moment with all of you below.

Ahem. Just do me a favor and don't mind the emotions that are evident in this recording. I was elated but it comes off as being a little too giddy.

I would like to end with a few words for the people who are reading this post, perhaps currently going through an artistic struggle or discovery, just like me: Never give up on looking for the true, most authentic artist within you. It doesn't matter what type of art it is or how long it takes you, what struggles you have to go through or what type of baggage you have to throw out in order to get there. It's never too late. And, more importantly, if it makes you happy, it's never not worth it. Just be brave and throw yourself into it - I'm learning to do that, too, along with the rest of the artists out there who have a dream. So, remember,  you're not alone :) Just know that as insignificant as it may seem, a reflection of the real you is being added to the great things of the world, which could never lack value.

Thanks for reading - xoxo, Rosie

How I Found My Real Voice - Part I

What is singing? According to Wikipedia ...

"Singing is the act of producing musical sounds with the voice, and augments regular speech by the use of both tonality and rhythm ... It may  be done for pleasure, comfort, ritual, education or profit. Excellence in singing may require time, dedication, instruction and regular practice."

From my perspective, that's a pretty spot on, down to earth definition. And if the actual act of becoming a good singer is all that you are looking to do, follow the advice above and I'm sure you will achieve your goal.

But I don't think most of us are simply looking to be good singers or musicians. What we are looking for is to be great artists, someone who is able to touch a listening crowd by leaving all of our most personal emotions on stage, moving people in ways that are beyond our own understanding. We want to provoke smiles, tears,  happy laughter - if we mean to be funny- and leave an audience of people roaring because they don't want the music to stop. That's when you know you've grown into an artist, that's when you know you've found your real voice.

The Realization

Once upon a time there was a girl named Rosie who wanted to be a nun. Let that sink in. I know it's not a career path most people choose to pursue.

As it turns out - You got this part already, I'm sure. - that didn't happen for reasons that are funny, sad, frustrating, eye-opening and destiny-driven, worth explaining in a separate post dedicated to the subject.

Fast forward to 2010 where I enter the real world, a "normal" life that was mostly *gasp*  secular. My first time thrown into a way of living I had not yet gotten the chance to experience as an adult. The first time I had a real job. The first time I had made new and great friends, mostly non-religious and wonderful. All big deals to me.

It was also the first time I fell in love.


Guess that part's important, huh? Something I never thought would happen to me, did. And it was mostly ... awful.

Sigh. Where do I begin?

Since I'm not exactly sure and probably haven't been given enough characters in this blog post to recite years of a truly platonic love and and overall f$%$#ed up situation, I will sum it up in the following words, which I've edited a little, to fit my personal experience. From a post in Thought Catalog ...

" ... the love I [had for him] was too much for me. It was raw, it was passionate, it was all-
encompassing, it was emotional, it was everything. He was the first thing I thought about in the morning and the last thing I thought about at night. I felt incomplete when I wasn’t around him, and when he was near it was like everything was right in the world again. He was my other half [without being my other half], and what I considered the best part of myself. He made me crazy and emotional. It was [always] ... a roller coaster of missing him, loving him, hating him[but never admitting it], and needing him."

That love broke me. Bad. Like - real bad. We're talking Oprah-Ugly-Cry on the bus ride home from work, having a homeless man ask you if you're okay and apologizing for not having a tissue to give you bad. #embarassing

Still, to the people that saw me every day, save a select few, I was the same happy-go-lucky Rosie who could handle anything and never cracked. In my mind, if I didn't mention it, if the majority of the outside world was unable to see my imperfections - because the thought that they could terrified me - than I also didn't have to see them, much less deal with them. I could be this totally fake, perfect person.

BRILLIANT.

This is how I presented myself when I met Neil.

It was rather short lived.

Neil Semer is like the guru of voice teachers, asking his students to dig deeply within themselves and sing from the chakra of the heart. Beautiful, artistic,  real voice type stuff. I had learned of him through the oh-so-wonderful Mikhail Hallak who I had coached with years earlier and who thought Neil's teaching style would be a great fit for me - and probably necessary, although he didn't say that. And so, for a very short period of time, I took another shot at the world of classical music and had the pleasure of working with Neil.

Neil is great. Out of the box, non-conforming and simply wanting to help bring out the artist in each person he works with. He had me walk around the room to feel the ground, acting like an ape, fix my posture to love and use my generous body while singing, stretch my neck to loosen up and practice doing four different facial expressions all at once to help me gain control of my face - which not only seemed impossible, but made me look funny.

He also wasted no time. During my second lesson, while my fake persona was less on point than usual, and he felt comfortable enough that he could finally say something - no time like the present -,  he stopped and said, "What's going on?".

Almost intuitively, I responded. "... I just want to hold on."


Hold up. Did I just say that? Because I didn't mean to. Is he even going to know what that MEANS??? I don't even know what that means!

And then he said this:

"There is nothing to hold onto, Rosie. Just muscles to tense. Do you know what would happen if you did that while you were swimming?"

"...I would drown."

"Yes. Because you began to panic and, out of fear, it would happen. Right now, this is how you are singing, out of panic and fear. What you need to do is sing out of love."


Wow.


That was the first time I publicly accepted, in fact ever realized, that I hadn't let go of any unnecessary baggage because I was terrified of having to pick up the broken pieces of, what I thought, was failure.

 I had failed at being a good Christian. I had failed at becoming a nun. I had really failed at finishing music school because I wanted to follow the path of being a good Christian and becoming a nun - which, by the way, I had failed at. And most recently I had failed at making the person I loved so much love me back. My imperfections, my losses, my sadness, my fears, everything that I didn't think was positive, I did not deal with but buried inside of me while it all screamed to be let out. And in that burial, I had buried my real voice, too.

But, in my realization I also realized there was a difference between my voice and everything else I had squashed down inside. Unlike everything else my voice was not one of my failures. It didn't belong there with all the other b.s. My voice was never and could never be a mistake. In fact, if I wasn't proud of anything else at that moment, when there were so many trials, when I felt like no one could truly understand my life as I had lived it, that was the one thing I knew I could be proud of. I couldn't let it go because it had so much to say. I had so much to say.

"We're going to work on this and help you let go. That's my priority.", Neil says.

"I would love that...Thank you.", I say.

That day I walked away from my lesson knowing I had found a person who could help me through my first real, musical breakthrough. And although that might seem dramatic, you have no idea how truly dramatic it was.



To be continued.

I auditioned for 'The Voice'.

Yesterday, three of my favorite people jumped in the car as moral support and journeyed with me to audition for NBC's hit show 'The Voice'. And, as promised, I have a few things to share, including the audition process, new experiences and my feelings after.

-The Process-
Suppppper interesting. Maybe it's just NYC, (You never know who you're going to encounter there as far as personality is concerned.) but nothing prepares you more than a mix of kind people smiling and wishing you luck vs. those who may possibly think you're a terrorist - Ma'am, I know it's your job to keep everyone in this building safe, but I promise you there are no weapons of mass destruction in my wallet.

The organization of it all is rather impressive. Multiple lines with people giving you clear direction. Outside for about an hour and half - not too shabby. Inside the building and down the escalator into the basement of the Javits Center, walking for what seems like forever  - if it weren't for the fact that there were many other people wandering aimlessly to the same place you might be concerned. Security - Hello there, Miss Security Lady. Still no explosives on my person. Pinky swear.

Tagged with a wristband, wished luck and sat in order to wait for a bit. Next to me there's a guy who's super nervous with a really sweet singing voice.
"How does that sound?" he asks.
"Really nice. You have a very sweet voice." I say.
"Ugh. I'm so nervous."
"Don't be. This isn't about them. It's about you doing what you love."
Silence.
"I'm still nervous."
... Can't say I didn't try.

We are counted off in groups of ten and asked to stand against a wall. There are other groups ahead of us. "You guys are next. Don't be nervous! Remember this is supposed to be fun!" - Did they just say that to my group? But I thought there were people in front of us. Not that I'm not ready, but...Just go with the flow, Rosie.

Into a small room with ten chairs we go. The ten of us sit down in front of us a female judge, her face covered by a MacBookPro in a teal case. She peeks out and says.

"Hello. Thank you for coming. Each audition will be short and sweet as to give everyone a chance to sing since there are many people here. Sing a verse and the chorus or thirty seconds of your song. If necessary, I will cut you off."

She shuffled our registration passes and we were called in random order. Cool. The nervous guy goes first. We clap for him. He's still nervous. He told me again when he sat down.
"Raw-see-oh...?"
"It's Ro-see-o." - she was probably still confused.
" I will be singing 'Amado Mio' by Pink Martini."
Looks of confusion. Maybe I was the only one in the room who liked and listened to little, contemporary orchestras from Portland.

And there I go. Belting my little heart out rather loudly. Carefully assessing volume levels afterwards, adding ornamentation and making musical choices that had been carefully thought out. Then I finished singing all verses of the song.
"That's it ...?" the judge asks .
"...Yes...That's it" - was I supposed to sing more words?! I hadn't thought of adding more words! You said a verse or thirty seconds, Miss, and that's what I did. I should have been more creative.
Everyone clapped and I sat down.

And so it went until all ten people had a chance to sing. Someone forgot the words. Another person picked a Broadway Song that was more spoken than sung - interesting. All in all, however, there were a few beautiful singers in the room.

When we were done, the judge picked up our registration forms again, tapped them on the table as if to align them all, doesn't make any moves towards the pile of red call-back slips, and says,
 "Thank you for coming today. I won't be calling anyone back but I heard potential in the room today. Keep working at it."

And that was it. We were let go. All in all a process that took me two hours and a half to complete.

- New Experiences -
I'm a classical singer who has recently accepted that she no longer wishes to sing classical music or church music, much less work towards being an opera singer. Disclaimer: There is nothing wrong with any of the aforementioned. It's absolutely beautiful music, moving beyond words. And there is no doubt about it - classical singing provides a technique more solid than any other singing foundation. I am grateful for what it has taught and provided me throughout my journey.

It's just not me for me, not my forever. I just want to sing. I'm not sure what or where that will be or how it will be done, but I guess I just have faith it will happen. Especially if I'm working at it and open to new opportunities At least this was a step in the right direction. No more labels, just me doing what I love most. This realization alone is the best of the new experiences that stemmed from preparing and having this audition.

But if you want to know the most eye opening experience I had - seeing people's reaction to rejection. Don't get me wrong. Rejection is tough. Even I took twenty minutes to myself afterwards, as silly as it sounds, letting myself be sad for a bit and then reminding myself that it was simply okay. Not bad. Not good. Not indifferent but okay. I was okay. I am a great singer and singing is something I love and will continue to do always. Even if I did take a hiatus of a few years...

Anyhow, that's always been the way I've handled rejection. It's actually the way I've experienced most singers handle rejection, really. I guess the world of classical music just holds a certain level of prestige that makes you not want to act a fool or look unprofessional in front of colleagues and other musicians. You may very well be pissed - you'll go home and talk to your closest friends, voice teacher, voice coach, the lady doing your nails or even the mailman, but never in that moment for fear of something coming back to bite you.

This is not the case for auditions such as yesterday's, I discovered. In fact, the air of reality - aka not holding back - is apparent, almost transparent, when auditioning for 'The Voice'.

"Yo! I can't even believe I didn't get picked.", a contestant says loud and in front of a crowd as he meets back up with the people that came to support him.
"Maybe if I woulda sang some damn COUNTRY MUSIC I coulda had a callback!!!?"

Multiply that remark by tons of other people who didn't get a callback slip. Anger. Lots of it. And many comments similar to the following:

 "Forget this damn show! I didn't wanna be on it anyway."

Whoa. Change of mind so soon, ey? At least it was entertaining to watch.


- Feelings?- 

A lot but mostly excitement and drive for what may come.

2015 is truly the year of musical change for me. In 2013 I lost the weight I've wanted to lose my whole life. In 2014 I moved out of my parent's house and became truly independent. Thus this year is the year I dedicate myself to my art and starting the process of truly making something of it.

I think this audition pushed me to experience a new side of music. Practice again. Listen to music more deeply. Sing things I hadn't ever performed but that felt right and fun. I can't say that the experience itself was life changing, because it wasn't. But it was important to me because it made me happy.

And that, my friends and family, is what it's all about.



Here's to new directions, discoveries and opportunities.

Bringing It Back

I re-discovered this gem of a blog today after quite some time. It started with the time in my life when I was happiest: Rome. Then there were a few posts from the time I discerned the religious life - great period of transformation for me in which I learned so much, both spiritually and intellectually. After that was the re-direction. A re-discovery of what I refer to as 'common life' aka 'being normal'. Finding love for the first time. Losing love for the first time. Sadness and anger and just a host of things that were dark stepping stones that helped me grow. And then I stopped posting. This was right around the time I started to focus on balance. Who is Rosie? What is she capable of? How can she help the world.

After careful consideration, I've decided to bring the blog back. I've deleted the negative memories in here, as some of them were too personal and stemming from a bad place (Just know that it hasn't always been positivity for me - you probably already knew that, though. To get to the light, to a place where I choose to handle situations positively, I've traveled through a lot of darkness. It's been a part of my journey.). In fact the only posts I kept were those I had when I lived in Rome. Those are the memories of a 19 year old girl who traveled by herself to a country in which she knew no one but God, without knowing how long she'd be there, not thinking about it twice. I always want to remember that courage and the fact that I've always been strong.

Welcome to "The Joy in Living" where I will share happy news, memories and maybe even some trials along the way.

First blog post to come soon. Wait for it.

And then there was "The Voice".

The year of letting the world see your real light starts now. 

Cara Roma, come mi manchi!

Tomorrow will be two months since I have gotten back to the U.S. from Rome.

All I can say is my 'Roman Vacation' was and is the beginning of many beautiful journeys.

Maria José, Rebeca Adriana, Maria Leticia, Elisabeth Marie-Claire Rosario, Ileana, Claudia, Miriam Michaela Sara, Rebecca, Carly, Carrie, Gabriella, Lolita, Sylvia, Miriam, Waldi, Chiara,Sabrina...

 

 Mi mancate...Je vous manquez...Me hacen falta...I MISS YOU!

...But thank God that I united to you all by prayer.

Heyyyy there :)

Just a little note to let everyone know I am doing well and that I love you all!!!

Quite a few busy past weeks, and I am sure it will be the same for weeks to come. (One must get the most out of their last month in the beautiful city of Rome :)

In my thoughts in my prayers.

'I remind you of WHO?'

Greetings all, from the land where I strange encounters do, in fact, occur often. No, it does not stop at clowns.

Last Saturday night, two of my friends Rebeca, from Chicago, and Iliana, from Romania, and I were sitting around after dinner, thinking of something to do. One of the women who cleans the house for us, serves us our food, etc. came in to have a bite of dinner. I love to talk to her because she has such a kind, cheery disposition. So we begin talking about different fruit, tropical fruits mostly (You all know my love for fruit...) that come from our native countries (She is from Madagacar.) and then all of sudden she says to me, 'Hey! What's the name of Bill Clinton's ex-girlfriend??'

O.k., folks. Now, I know that sometimes I can really misunderstand what Italians have to say because they are either speaking in slang or wayyy to fast. BUT most of the time I understand everything perfectly. However, I really thought I had heard really incorrectly, like REALLY incorrectly, so I say, 'What?' and she repeats herself. 'You know, Bill Clinton's ex-girlfriend.'

At which point I realize I had in fact understood correctly and was like, 'Yea.' (What else can you say?) and she says to me, 'What's her name?'...'Uhhh...Monica Lewinsky...?', I say. And THEN she says 'YES! HER! You are exactly alike!!! No one has ever told you you are exactly alike??? Surely no one has ever told you you are alike as to not insult you, but you are EXACTLY alike!'

Of course I was really confused, but Rebeca, such a wonderful person and really strong Catholic, bless her soul, was completely appalled. ' Rocio doesn't resemble Monica Lewinsky at all!!!' And they both went on their 'Yes she does!' 'No she doesn't...' rant for quite a while.

And there you have it. Broken bed. Broken chair. Loss of keys. Use of a washing machine that I could have had to pay a lot of money for. Clowns. Monica Lewinsky. (haha)

Rome, anyone? :)

I love you all. Please pray that in the future I remind NO ONE of Monica Lewinsky. You are all in my prayers.

DON'T send in the the clowns...!

Last Sunday evening, after one of my friends returned from home from a day outing, we decided we would take a little stroll before curfew, which is at 10:30 p.m.

We took two Aranciata’s which had been bought for us from a friend, sat by the Pantheon for a bit to listen to a tenor who sings ‘everyone’s favorite opera selections’, every Sunday evening, as long as there is no rain, which might ruin his accompaniment: a boom-box (Two things: a. I love that the Italians are so not on the page technology wise as we are in the United States. This allows me to see people who still use boom-boxes, and even better, stores which still SELL boom-boxes. b. This tenor is actually really very good!! So it’s getting a really good concert for free ☺ ) Afterwards, we decided we would walk to the Trevi Fountain because it’s really beautiful at night.

Well, on our way to the Trevi Fountain, we passed a restaurant with outside seating. And because our luck is such, their entertainment couldn’t be something normal to Rome, like someone pretending to be a sphinx, a mime, or a guy who sings country western on guitar (Yes. There is a man who stands in front of ‘Basilica Maria sopra Minerva’ practically everyday and sings country. Don’t worry...Not in Italian.) Nope. Their dinner entertainment was a CLOWN. A clown. Not just any clown. Oh no! Not like the decent kind you would see at a child’s party. It was a very CREEPY clown, a man dressed in crazy clothes and make-up, who thought it was really funny to talk to all the people who were walking and play tricks on them. (‘Slowly I turn…Step by STEP!’ …I Love Lucy, anyone?) Immediately I think to myself, ‘Oh no.’ and I say to Adriana, ‘There is a clown.’ And I suggest we past by him as quickly as possible, the whole time thinking, ‘This clown is up to no good.’

Now, I know it sounds as if I am being exaggerated, afterall he was just a clown…Right? WRONG! My suspicions were quickly proven to be true. No sooner did we begin to pass him, than he decided to be finished his previous joke and yell, ‘Oh là là!’, which of course everyone who was eating outside thought was so funny! Me: Not so much. So in my mind I think, ‘I should just walk faster.’ And we do. But as usual I underestimated this clown and his desire to speak to me and my friend. As we were walking away, he GRABBED my leg! Which made me let out this giant scream!

O.k…Many people can say they have come to Italy and been accosted, especially women…o.k. MOSTLY women, by restaurant owners, taxi drivers, Carabinieri, or just any Italian male in general, but a CLOWN? No, folks. That only happens to me.

Why, HELLO there!

Wow! It’s been a while! ☺ Sending you so much love from Rome! (…And be-lated ‘Big Teresa’ Day blessings!)

All is quite a o.k. here on my part. In fact, if I haven’t been writing too much, it’s been mostly because I have been dedicating myself quite a bit to quiet. Discovering new, little places of Rome, that are in fact reminiscent of home. (It makes me so happy to know that there IS green here!)

BUT, there are many more updates to come, (I promise…)

I love you all. And as always, though I don’t have to tell you because I know that you know, you are all in my prayers. ☺ I leave you all a thought from St. John of the Cross…

“Don’t put your happiness and your delight in that which you can undersatnd or feel of God in prayer, but rahter in that which you can not understand, nor feel…God is always hidden in secret, difficult to find. Continue to serve Him, even if He is hidden in that secret, despite that you try to find Him, try to feel Him, try to understand Him. The less you understand, the closer you will be to Him.’

'Our Father who...who...who...?'

Hey there! (How is it possible for a city to be so sunny and also so cold???) I’m sure it is starting to be a lot colder back home, as I have quickly realized it gets really cold pretty quickly here as well…

Living here is such a mix because you have people coming and going from all different parts of the world (I’ve had to realize just how turistic Rome truly is.), because of which, I am able to speak English, Spanish, and Italian, and also listen to and understand French. My brain has never really functioned on three + languages before, so intensely! It is really common for you to engage in conversation with someone in English, two seconds later in Spanish, and then it always happens that someone who only speaks Italian is waiting for you to translate all that you have said in English and Spanish to them. It’s rather exhausting, but truthfully keeps your mind in check. Only, it has its downfalls for sure…

Because this month is the month of the rosary, the sisters and some of the girls living in the house get together at 9:15 p.m. every Tuesday and Thursday to say the rosary. All the different nationalities together, the sisters have decided it is a good idea to take the rosary around the world, that is to say, recite it in different languages. Last night was the night we were to recite the rosary in Spanish, and Suor Palaga, the Superior, kindly asked me if I would lead. Well, never assume things will come back to you that automatically when your brain is calculating three + languages. I begin to recite the ‘Our Father’ in Spanish, something that I recite back at home EVERY day, and then I realize, ‘My gosh…I think I forgot how to say this!’ I only remembered how to say it in Italian and English! So everytime we began a mystery, every time, I said half of it in Italian, or every time I made something up. Needless to say the next time I won’t be so trustworthy as to think my brain can do such a mix of things. Next time, I will take my Spanish book of prayers with me to the chapel.

As for all the rest, I am doing quite well. I love you all and God bless you

La Bibbia: Giorno e Notte

As I am sure most of you have heard, this week has been declared by Pope Benedict XVI 'Bible Day and Night', a project (for lack of MUCH better words) where all different types of peoples, all spectrum of the work force, of different religions, different races, get together at the church 'Santa Croce di Gerusalemme', and for 139 hours NON-stop read the bible, beginning with Genesis, ending with Revelations. What's the coolest thing about this? It is broadcast live on Italy's main public television station, RAI-Uno. Even cooler? I got to go last night.

A bunch of girls from 'Casa Famiglia' and I, along with three quite spectacular sisters (If I do say so myself...) headed out at 23:00 (11:00p.m.) to visit Santa Croce and partake in this incredible event. I don't know what I had in mind when thinking about this project, truthfully no idea what it would be like, but when I got there, it just made so much sense to me! There was a short line to get into the Basilica, as there are people coming in and out of the church (So much youth...What a beautiful thing to see), and so we had our chance to go in and sit, listen. By the time we got there, they had already gotten to the book of Wisdom (Can you imagine? They only started on Sunday!) You could see people with their bibles, listening and taking in as much information as they could, and it was surely possible to take in quite a bit in an environment made to be quiet and contemplative. To be able to share that with all the other girls was really quite wonderful, even more wonderful to see all the different people partaking in the reading of the scriptures, together.

On our way home, I got to talking with one of the sisters, a gem, and a good friend I have made here in Rome named Claudia, who studies Theology and Philosophy at the Gregorian (A pontifical University here in Rome) about how incredible this event really is. It's purpose is not to meditate on every single thing read (That's impossible, considering the time constraints, especially that we can never pretend to fully know EVERYTHING about the word of God even when we have more time. ) but more than anything, it opens the hearts of the people who went to witness this event, those who pass by and see all that is happening on jumbo-trons, and the people at home watching RAI-Uno, to be much more open to living, witnessing, and loving God's word, especially as Catholics. What a spectacular thing! And in the words of that wonderful gem of a sister, 'At some point we have to realize that God inspired and wrote for us this incredible book. If it can be read from start to finish in one week, something I can't do because it exceeds my human limits, can't I do the same in a year, at least?'

Between the unity it brings, the desire to love and understand God at a much more profound level, and even if it just opens a door of curiosity, WHAT a miracle.

Much much love and infinite blessings.

Back from Firenze...

And so, I am officially back from my trip to Florence, where I was able to see some of the world’s most increible works of art. Boticelli, Lippi, Giotto. They were all in Florence for me to see. I travelled 3 km up (and I mean UP) a mountain to visit the tiny town of Loppiano, the first of Chiara Lubich’s ‘Focoloare’ Mariaopolii. Ponte Vecchio, Palazzo Vecchio, Santa Croce, Il Duomo. All of these incredible things were there or near for my eyes to witness.

And so, on my way back to Rome, I sat there and I thought heavily about all that I have been blessed to see here in Italy. In less than two months, I have seen things I have longed to see my whole life. Things I was sure I would ‘just absolutely die’ after seeing. Seeing Cecilia Bartoli, especially. And then, as always, I surprise myself. I have to say, for the record, how hard it is for me to admit to this, because it will sound like ‘sacrilege’. Equally so, what I am about to say doesn’t mean I feel any less blessed by the beautiful events I have been able to live through. As a matter of fact, I feel as though they have been, and will continue to be turning points in my life, from which I continue to learn.

For a long time, a great big piece of my life, I had prepared for all the beautiful things I would one day see. All the countries, all the paintings and sculptures. I had prepared and thought about over and over again how I would feel when I finally had the chance to see Cecilia Bartoli. I had fawned over being able to see art such as Lippi’s in a way I can’t even begin to describe. To be cultured and finally have a ‘real’ sense of the meaning of life, because in my mind, once I saw all of these things, that were my everything, what else would matter? And then none of that happened. I went, I saw, and while there was so much beauty to see, all inspired by God, the difference was this: These things are no longer MY God.

It’s such a difficult feeling to describe. I don’t want to make it sound like any of it made sense to me at the time. In fact, I can recall sitting there watching Cecilia sing and thinking to myself, ‘Why am I not more excited? I have been waiting for this moment for so long!’ or seeing Lippi’s art and thinking, ‘Why is this painting not speaking to me???’. All of these feelings, in a way relieving, but in a way causing a great deal of artistic/emotional distress. ‘What’s wrong with me I am an artist!! I am supposed to love this so much more than I am loving it right now!’ And then I figured it out on that long train ride back home and all the time in between I had to think, to pray. ‘No. You are supposed to APPRECIATE art, not allow it to take over your life.’

And so it seems that this is one of the main things I have been given in Rome. The grace to begin to understand the place of different things in my life, and the patience to know that all the time I spent obsessing over music was not in vain, because it is from there that I have been able to slowly learn how to really appreciate God. That if you truly open your heart to God’s greatness, all other things seem so small in comparison. So so small, that you begin to be afraid and think, ‘What’s wrong with me?’. The answer is of course nothing. You are just beginning to really love what matters.

Much much love. Always in my prayers.

Firenze

Before anything, sorry for the lack of writing lately, guys! (I have been rather busy attending a mission this week called 'Gesu nel Centro', a SPECTACULAR evangelization mission, sponsored by the Diocese of Rome, by the youth, for the youth. It has been such a blessing to see so many young people take a part in this mission, which clearly brings so many back to the church every year. Perhaps this is a potential mission for the United States as well...?)

Tomorrow, I leave for Florence with two of my friends from 'Casa Famiglia' (the house where I live with the Benedictine Sisters) Maria José, from Mexico, and Elisabeth, from Belgium. This is our mini trip and our chance to see Florence, which is apparently very picturesque in the its changing of seasons. But of course, all has to have a reason in my book :)...SO, I will take the time to visit two orders while I am there. I will visit the Monastic Fraternity of Jerusalem (Fraternita Monastiche di Gerusalemme) in Florence and also Loppiano, the first citadella of the Focolare movement. Two VERY different orders, but with characteristics and charisms that I feel are very close to my heart. Methinks I will have a lot to say when I return.

Because I will be away for a few days, you will be hearing from me next this upcoming Monday. You are all in my prayers and I LOVE you all

In advance, happy feast day of our beloved Saint Therese.

On her death bed : 'I am not dying...I am merely entering into life.' -St. Therese of Lisieux

Rataplan!

What an incredible night!

This is one of my many pictures I took (quite liberally, might I add) of Cecilia Bartoli as she sang last night at the National Academy of Saint Cecilia in Rome.

What I find most incredible about her, even more so than her voice, her apparent love, and affection, for her audience. It was such a blessing to be able to see someone who wanted to SHARE her music.

And then to top it off, a night spent afterwards at adoration.

Last night was toppled with so much joy, that words can not describe the feelings. God is truly marvelous...

In my prayers.

Tonight: 'The Cheech', my friends

And so, tonight, I am off to visit with Cecilia Bartoli, as she does a concert at 'La Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia' the 'Cecilia Bartoli Auditorium' (Go figure the irony...). Tonights concert features all of the music from her most recent album 'Maria' which is a tribute to the 'first female opera star', Maria Malibran.

It should be pretty awesome.

Expect many pictures as I have the please of sitting orchestra, ninth row.

Love you and praying for you all.

Assisi!

One of the most incredible, holy, pacific, peace-filled places in the world...I can't wait to go back!

This is a picture of my friends and I in front of St. Claire's Basilica.
(From left to right: Anna, Carrie, Elisabetta, Carina, Adriana, and I)

What did you do now?

You know, thank goodness I have lots of personality because if not…who KNOWS what the Sisters would think of me. Saturday marked a month of my being here with the Benedictine Sisters, and if all the things I have managed to do in a month haven’t made them think I am crazy, than I figure I am in good shape. ☺

First, for all of you to understand the intensity of why they might think I am little abnormal, I will go down a checklist of things that have happened:

1. My first few nights here, I sat down on the bed, and ‘BOOM!’, it fell to the ground. Now, you can just imagine that one can’t you? And of course, the next morning when it was my job to tell the sisters, ‘Excuse me, but my bed broke.’ and then of course one of them coming to see and asking me with a very puzzled look, ‘What did you do???’ Truthfully, nothing! After observing the bed, I realized that it had been fixed more than one time.
2. I was sitting in the dining room, and went to sit back in my chair a little bit, and again, no surprise, I broke the back of the chair. How does one break the back of a chair, you ask? This one, I wish I could answer, and simply, I can not.
3. Last Sunday, I ‘lost’ my keys. Because I didn’t realize I had left them in my friend’s room, I was sure that I had locked them in my new closet. So, very reluctantly, but realizing there was no way around it, I go up to the front desk to ask one of the sisters at 8:30 a.m. for help. What’s the first thing she asks? ‘Well Rocio, what have you done now so early in the morning?’ She, telling me they lost the replacement key for the closet, manages a way to get the closet open a little bit ONLY to realize that the keys are NOT in the closet. Incredible. Again, they were in my friends room.
4. This morning, because I have been sick and because I usually cover myself with water when I wash clothes by hand, I decided I would use the washing machine. This is something I usually refrain from because each load is 3.50 euro. BUT I didn’t want to risk getting sick again, and because I hadn’t washed things in a while, the piles of clothes had really accumulated (towels, p.j.’s, etc.) SO, I walked upstairs to where there are two washing machines. One of the washing machines was occupied, so I decided I would use the other ones. All was going peachy until one of the sisters began to yell at me. ‘Why?’, you ask? Well because I was, as expected, using the sister’s PRIVATE washing machine which needs a lot of clothing in it or it will break due to its industrial size. I explained to them that the day I arrived and was shown everything I was really overwhelmed and perhaps didn’t understand correctly…Well, DEFINITELY didn’t understand correctly.

And I am sure I can add lots of other things to list, but ‘PHEW!’, so many times of having to explain myself. Trying to tell them I am a highly sensitive person, absent-minded type seven, ENTP, who gets overwhelmed when someone mentions the word ‘caffeine’. All just so in ends they look at me and think, ‘Child, where did you come from?’ And by the same token, I know they love me.

If there is one thing I find incredible about certain people is how, besides your absent mind, your inability to care about things of this world, your idea that ‘Everything that’s mine is yours and everything that’s yours is mine!’, they can still care about you enough to know that underneath all of those things, there are parts of you that are golden, and therefore mean so much more than any kind of ‘mistake’ you may commit, merely because, you can’t understand being any way else. (*How do you fix a problem like, Rocio…*) Likewise, while it is hard for me to accept failing, being disliked for even one second, having a ‘bad reputation’: These Sisters have a house to run!!!

And so, thanking God that at least He doesn’t take my clearly unworldly actions into consideration (Or, at least, I sure hope not!), I realize that I am in ways different from people, in ways not. But, at the end of the day, I wouldn’t say that I would want to give up anything about myself, especially now, to try and triumph in other things, for at that point, I would risk letting go of all the blessings I HAVE been given. And likewise, no one else should change their own personal blessings, because it is in the differences that we can learn to be Christians and appreciate each other, working as a unit.

I leave with a passage from a book I have been reading that has so served for my own personal reflections, in hopes that perhaps it may do the same for you:

‘Accept that even at your best time, as a human being, you instinctively tend
towards sin. With a clear light, realize that the bottom of your heart is ego-centric,
selfish, jealous, aggressive, avid, and that the devil, who accosts your brothers and
sisters and works in the darkness, works heavily through these things in order to
devour you.
To open yourself to love, you must continuously get tired of the power of
non-love. Without this newfound humility and conversion, you will never be able
to truly love.
How much more you learn to love your brothers and sisters, is how much more
you will learn to love and accept yourself.
If things are unified, they will be unifying; if calm; calming. Love yourself with
humility and pride, with the love that which God Himself loves you. In turn, with
this as your foundation, love your brothers and sisters as you love and accept
yourself. ‘

‘Monaci Nelle Città: Libro di Vita’ – Fraternità Monastiche di Gerusalemme

And as always, you are in my prayers. I love you all.

Whassup ma ciccia (chee-cha)????

In Roman slang, CICCIA (chee-cha), which I know, is a rather not nice word in the Spanish language, means 'sista'. You can imagine how that was for me the first time I heard THAT word. MUCH more exciting than 'Boh...'.

I have been a little under the weather with the climate change (really pretty drastic... hot one day, really cool the next...) with a cold, but don't you worry, I have about four friends all in line to take care of me. Really incredible how maternal Italian women are! Sylvia, my old roommate (I had to switch rooms because her permanent roommate is coming back on Sunday ... We were both really sad! ) has been taking such good care of me...

'Rocio, cos' hai mangiato oggi?' (What did you eat today?) ... me- 'Ho mangiato un po' di cereale.' (I had some cereal.) ... 'Ma tu sei matta! Tu devi mangiare!!!' (You're nuts! You need to eat more!) ... me- ' Però ho mangiato...' (But I did eat)... ' Ma dai Rocio?!... Tu devi mangiare...' (REALLY, Rocio? ... You should eat...)

And this has been the way it has gone for two days, making me eat, giving me medication, making me wear a sweater, yelling at me because I am next to a window, telling me that I need to stay under my quilt the WHOLE day, etc. etc. Really interesting things. (P.S. Can I just tell you that the medication here is completely different? Maybe different in the sense that it wouldn't be FDA approved in the United States? Seriously, in the US we use saline nose drops. HERE, they use these 'protein drops', which don't get me wrong, work REALLY really well, but they are like black ink... Kid you not. ) AND due to all of this love I am feeling much better. :)

I hope I am feeling even better by tomorrow morning because we are taking a day trip to ASSISI! I am sooooo incredibly excited to go and see the home of one of the most inspirational saints of all time, St. Francis. If I do get to go, I will have so much to tell you.

SO until my later my dears. Please remember that I keep you always, always in my prayers and in my constant thoughts.

And to close:

Signore, fa' di me uno strumento della tua pace.

Dove c'è l'odio, io porti amore.
Dove c'è discordia, io porti l'unione.
Dove c'è errore, io porti la verità.
Dove c'è dubbio, io porti la fede.
Dove c'è disperazione, io porti la speranza.

O Divino Maestro,
che io non cerchi tanto di essere consolato quanto di consolare.
Non di essere compreso quanto di comprendere.
Non di essere amato quanto di amare.

Infatti: donando si riceve.
Dimenticandosi si trova comprensione.
Perdonando si è perdonati.
Morendo si riuscita alla vera VITA.

'Rosie, I think the Pope almost ran us over.'

Guess who went to a Papal audience this morning???? ME!

It just so happens that yesterday while Miriam, Carrie, and I were at the Vatican, we conveniently remembered that they were in the hours of giving out tickets for the Papal audience the next morning. Soooooo awesome :)

And then, conveniently on the way back, Carrie and I were talking, not paying attention, when we walked into the street, precisely at the moment three black cars were passing by. We had to get off the road, just in time to see little man in the back with white hair and long white clerics. :) Yes, folks. Only I would come to Rome only to almost get run over by the Papa.

Don't worry. He extended his Papal Blessing to all of my friends and family not present. I promise :)