A jar of snow

Mother Nature struck once again last night, showering the city with fine crystals of snow that settled into powdery blankets.   I sat on a small side street in the Village, noticing how the tall street lamps highlighted the swirling patterns and clean sparkle of the falling snow, and wished for a moment that I could bottle that moment the way we collect sand from our favorite shores.

Snow is the most fickle of all the weather personalities.  As each flake falls we are filled with the excitement and anticipation of what is to come.  Standing covered, wet and cold, our body temperature rises, our cheeks flush, and our inner child comes out to play.  The snow then settles, nestling itself on sidewalks, trees, grass, buildings, and any place it finds a welcoming surface.  Bit by bit these flakes bond together, forming pristine layers.  Soon we are gazing out at a winter wonderland, a sight that brings peace to even the most active minds and heavy hearts.  We long for a moment to stop time... take this image and store it in a place where it can never melt.

But soon after the last flake has fallen, the peacefulness is broken.  Plows burst in spreading sand and salt, reclaiming their territory, disrupting the picturesque serenity.  Temperatures rise, footprints stomp through, snow turns to slush, and soon our Norman Rockwell painting has turned into a cold gray battleground.  Until one day, the snow is simply gone.  All that remains are small piles that have survived the beating sun, and serve as reminders of what was once there.

The city in the snow provides a false sense of security.  It calms our mind and eases our hearts, but it's always temporary.  Moments seem more intense due to the dramatic background, but we are not to be fooled... the snow may make everything beautiful, but what lies underneath remains the same.

This will most likely be the last big snowfall of the winter.  It's now March, and we sit eager with anticipation for the first buds on the trees to blossom, hear the birds begin to chirp again, see the butterflies emerge from their cocoons, and shed our bulky coats, hats, and gloves for t-shirts, flips flops, and sun-kissed skin.  

But on my memory mantle will always sit that jar of snowfall.  Those moments that I bottled up for eternity.  The images of winter that brought hope to my heart and warmth to my soul.  

Enjoy the snow day...

A little about ME

When I first started this blog I was in a really intense place. There were a lot of changes happening in my life, and lot of decisions to be made, and a heaping pile of confusion that surrounded every waking minute of my day. I loved the idea of "Unspoken Heart" because I knew that I wasn't the only one struggling with so many questions, regrets, heartache, and frustrations, and I wanted there to be an outlet for people to share. A safe community of like souls.

Four months later I am writing to you from what I hope is a different place. From eyes that see the world in bright, vibrant color instead of dismal gray. From lips that speak honestly about what they want, and what they deserve. From ears that hear not just songs of disparity, but also songs of hope. From a heart that beats a little softer from the hurt, but a lot stronger from the pain.

In reading the letters other people wrote I came to realize that I was not alone. That none of us are. There will always be someone out there who can relate to what you are saying, how you are feeling, and what you are thinking. I've grown proud to say that yes, I want love and peace, but I will fight you to the death when I believe passionately in something or someone. I've learned that it's OK to not believe in the word NEVER. Because I don't. I believe in those little voices in my head, that may often misguide me, but not without reason.

I'd like to open up the forum again for people to continue sending letters. They can be to a friend, family member, lover, enemy... anything you need or want to get off your chest. If you are still hesistant, because you don't know me, don't trust me, or are uncomfortable sharing your feelings with a complete stranger, here are a few things about me to familiarize yourself with...

1. I am a trained dancer since the age of two, yet I fall almost every day.

2. I hate all horror movies, but I am particularly terrified of the movie Jurassic Park.

3. My favorite place to be, any season, any time of the day, is the beach.

4. I love my family, both real and extended, more than anything. They have supported me through everything and have tried their best to understand the way I see the world. However, sometimes I feel like I am the "black sheep."

5. I am deathly afraid that my grandparents will pass away before I get married.

6. My favorite color is blue, my eyes stand out when I wear green, I feel powerful in red, and I'm happiest in yellow.

7. When I meet people, their families usually love me. Their friends love me. Their pets love me. But the one person who means the most to me... that's who I struggle with. Sometimes, I fear that I may be a difficult person to love.

8. I have spent my whole life being insecure about my weight and appearance, despite a web of family and friends who always tried to make me feel beautiful. I was convinced that if I was skinnier and prettier my whole life would be different. I'm currently the thinnest I've been since high school and I've never felt more alone or invisible.

9. I am comforted when I have a cup of coffee in my hands.

10. I love red wine and I'm bothered when people drink white zinfandel.

11. Dance is my passion, I can't imagine my life without it. However, I constantly question if I'm truly talented at what I do, or if I've just always been a "big fish in a small pond."

12. I think the two hardest things about being single are 1. Not knowing who to trust, and 2. Having so much love to give, so much beauty to share and no one on the receiving end.

13. I have a major fear of abandonment and rejection. The fear didn't manifest itself out of thin air. Thank you Cupid, for your misguided arrow.

14. I am incredibly bothered by "posers." You know, those people that conform to be what another person wants them to be. The ones that pretend to like and be interested in things just to attract someone, but actually have little in common with them. I don't play games and I can't stand the people who do.

15. I cry A LOT. Definitely more than the average person. My favorite place to cry is the bathroom. My second place to cry is my car. Sometimes when I laugh really hard, I end up crying too. I believe crying is good for you. I cry at every curtain call of a live performance and every "Surprise" at a surprise party. I do not discriminate when it comes to tears.

16. I am an aggressive driver. Some may translate that to mean "bad driver." I just don't know how to do anything slow.

17. The people I met in my mid-20s are some of the most fun, interesting and stimulating people in my life. I LOVE meeting new people. But there is not a day that goes by when I don't think about the friendships and relationships I've lost touch with over the past ten years. Time passes, life gets in the way, but I miss them all the same.

18. I never understood how much it could hurt to see someone you loved loving someone else until it happened to me. That pain still sits in me every day. I have a really hard time getting over things I can't understand.

19. I have a toe thumb. Just one.

20. I absolutely love old buildings, churches, and different architecture and landscapes. It visually stimulates me to no end. I could wander cities and towns every day of my life and find something unusual and fascinating about them. My goal is to see all 50 states and visit each continent at least once. When I find that money tree in my backyard, I'll be on my way.

21. I am called "Morelli" more than I am called "Christina."

22. My brother is my best friend. I don't need a sister. That's what I have cousins and girlfriends for.

23. The past two years of my life have felt like a complete "Catch 22." I'm still waiting for that to change. I get frustrated when I put all of my heart and soul into something, and don't see the return. I am also incredibly bad at making decisions... it's quite torturous for me. So every time I've had to make one I question if it was right.

24. My dream is to one day dance and/or choreograph professionally. I also plan to write a book. And start another company. And take over the world. Sometimes I feel like I have multiple personalities. They will ALL be successful.

25. The arts are my life. Dance, music, painting, photography... I feel at home with people who share this passion. Music is therapy to me. Particularly when it's live. I could sit in a small venue with a great artist or band for hours, think about it for a few more hours, and then talk about it for a few more hours. Oh, and maybe do a little crying in between. ;)

The Soundtrack of My Life

When I was three or four years old I used to "work out" with my dad in the basement of our house in Brooklyn.  I don't remember actually exercising, but I can tell you the song that was playing was always The Pointer Sisters, "I'm So Excited."  Fast forward to my seventh birthday party, when the only song I wanted to hear was "I Want To Dance With Somebody" by Whitney Houston.  As I grew up, the music I listened to came to define my life and some of my greatest memories.  To this day, when I hear a certain song or artist I am instantly transported to the moment those lyrics hit me.  I like to think of it as the soundtrack of my life.  

Debbie Gibson, "Lost In Your Eyes"-  I'm bike riding up and down my neighborhood block, Walkman in my little fanny pack, wearing my "Debbie Gibson" hat.  Boys II Men, "On Bended Knee"- I'm on a bus in sixth grade, singing my heart out because at the time I hadn't yet realized I was borderline tone deaf.  The Tony Rich Project "Nobody Knows"- I'm crying over boys with my best friend during one of our countless middle and high school sleep-overs.

K.C. & Jo Jo, "All My Life" (Stop laughing)- My first glimpse of young love.  Sarah McLachlan, the entire "Mirrorball" CD- My first glimpse of young heartbreak.

Aerosmith, "Crazy"- Lawn seats, PNC when it was still the Garden State Arts Center, senior year of high school.  My first "I'm so cool I'm here with my friends" concert.

As I grew up, my taste in music matured and I became not only wrapped up in what was pleasing to my ears, but also the words and emotions that came along with it.  As a dancer, you communicate with your body.  Each movement, gesture, look, and breath gives meaning to the exquisite picture that the music has painted.   When I began choreographing pieces and not just performing, I tore into the guts of the song, interpreting and analyzing every word and beat.  I think back to more recent memories, and the songs I hear not only bear an image of a person or place, but also a feeling.  

I hear the soothing voice of Amos Lee singing "Southern Girl" and I'm down at the beach on an unusually warm fall day, quiet all around, an air of happiness in the car and a peaceful feeling in my heart.

The first chords of Jason Mraz's "You and I Both" play on my iPod and the same tears that welled in my eyes during that final encore at World Cafe Live still linger at the tips of my lashes.

Bryan Adams' "Summer of 69" blares loud on the stereo and I can't help but smile, laugh, and sing at the top of my lungs, college memories running rampant.  Dixie Chicks plays and I think of my best friend, and how she has turned my tears into laughter more times that I can count.

Train, "I'm About To Come Alive."  I can literally feel the music in my soul.

As support, inspiration, and feedback for this blog has continued to filter in, my ideas have expanded into so many different realms.  I've come to realize that while people may enjoy reading these entries, not everyone feels comfortable expressing themselves in their own writing.  So I invite you to submit your words in whatever way choose.  Whatever way you find easiest to express yourself, may it be poetry, song, art work, or photography.  

You never know who's life you may be inspiring, what memories you may be creating, and how you may actually be speaking the unspoken words in someone else's heart.

Dreamcatcher

A small, circular, woven hoop sits on the dark, wood blinds in my room.  A handful of feathers hang loosely on top of the object to complete its authentic appearance.  This object is called a "dreamcatcher," and in Native American culture it is believed that hanging it above a child's bed will ward off bad dreams.  The dreamcatcher was a gift I received from my parents after a trip they took out West, and after a month of sleepless nights I had hoped it would live up to my expectations.

Interestingly, I've experienced some extremely intense and vivid dreams in the past week.  It seems as though the creator of this dreamcatcher must have struck a deal with the Ghosts of Relationships Past, because I've had quite a few visits late at night.  Images of people who I have not seen or spoken to in a long time, linger well into the mornings when I wake.  Sounds, touch, and smell are frighteningly familiar, and I find myself taking a moment to decipher which memories have occurred in reality, and which are products of REM sleep.

Where do these dreams come from?  Are they a product of our head or our heart?  Is it a sign we have unfinished business, or a reminder of why our business is finished?

When your dreams speak so forcefully to you, do you listen?