Boo. Endings.

Endings. A concept I have always struggled with, and one that I can't seem to come to terms with right now. As I prepare to leave Paros, and the life that I have created for myself the last three months, I can't help but feeling severe melancholy.

Walking to the beach this morning, after seeing off our first friend at the ferry, my friend Angela and I talked about this. I mentioned that I couldn't decide what was worse, leaving at a high point, when all of our memories are wonderful but it might feel too soon, or having overstayed our welcome and been eager to leave. While leaving is difficult after we have established a deeply concentrated relationship with our peers, teachers, and this island we agreed that the fondness in which we will remember it will make up for the bittersweet emotions right now.

We have spent 3 months, nearly 12 hours a day at least, together, regardless of how irritated we have been with one another, there has been little room for escape. We have gotten to know eachother's lives, learned names of parents, antics of siblings, and sagas of significant others, without having met any of them face to face.

Without having a complete grasp on the extent of what I've learned here, I can safely say that the dynamic between the students, teachers, and the concentration of art, will be what I miss most. I can't say enough about each teacher I have met here, even ones whose classes I wasn't in. They operate with a focus that is contagious, and their main motivation, or so it seemed, was to better our experience and encourage our artistic process.

And I know I've mentioned the writing class before, but having completed the course, I feel even more strongly about it. We had our reading last Friday, each student stood up in front of everyone and read something they wrote this semester. We were all jittery, and the energy between the students was almost tangible. Spending most of that evening trying to cope with my fear of public speaking, I eventually turned to my friend Kayla and said, "We're nervous now, but we're going to wake up tomorrow wishing we could do it all over again." The reading went beautifully, mixing laughs and tears alike, and the whole time I continued to remind myself to be there, in that room of artists, and take advantage of the rare opportunity that is being surrounded by brilliantly talented and joyful people. When the last reader had gone, the nine of us, as well as fellow friends and teachers hugged and cried in celebration. Our writing teacher, Mr. George Crane said that we were the most talented class he's had, and that he felt like quitting thinking that the students to come could not possibly measure up. I share the same sentiment, in the sense that I will likely never again be in a class of students so grounded in joy and honesty. In the last three months, I wrote about things that I had previously felt unable to talk about with anyone, let alone write and expose in front of an audience. The space and comfort that this program has provided me is simply irreplaceable.

Sample of Recent Painting/Doodles/Photography

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Source: None via Chloe on Pinterest

Rambling About Greece While I Should Be Drawing...

The people here inspire me. I arrived in Greece just about one month ago, which feels very short considering what I have done and seen. No offense to Concordia, because no one has forced me to enroll there and it is because of that school that I have found what I love to do, but the people here at HISA, the professors, and the students, carry an energy about them that I have been craving since going to college.

They care about what they are doing and they realize that there is no right way to do it.

I sit in my classes and doodle most days. It probably seems to my peers and professors that I am not listening to a word of what's going on, but most of the time I am doodling as a way to internalize the amazing conversation that is taking place around me. In my creative writing class I listen to my peers read their most personal reflections written in a way that inspires me to do the same. It is not uncommon to feel like crying in this class, sometimes people actually do, and it's okay because we all understand that the physical act of writing is a meditation on all of the little things that have made us who we are right now.

The process of writing has been somewhat confrontational in the sense that I have so much freedom in what I am doing and an abundance of time to consider what is most important to me, events in my life that

have altered my path, and the people who have changed the way I see myself and others around me. The confrontation is a positive side effect enabling me to look clearly at what I am doing and why. We talk a lot about intentionality here and how it is the most important aspect of both art and life- a sentiment that is the subject of many conversations in my family, and now seems to be coming full circle.

All of my classes and experience seem to mesh with one another as I am slowly allowing myself to figure out my path here in Paros, Greece. I walk about a mile to class along the beachfront every day, and every day the overwhelmingly nostalgic smell of dense salt water reminds me of my family, Barbados, and everything else that matters. The one aspect of living in Paros that has been quite serendipitous is the way that little details from my childhood, or even my recent past have crept in and found a home here with me, and seem to be reminding me once again, that home is not defined by a geographical location.

Bittersweet

My last day in Mexico included a trip to the lavender farm, a 3 mile jog with my trusty bodyguard Davis, the purchase of 3 kilos of fresh strawberries, and a wide array of strawberry creations (strawberry sorbet, mini strawberry pies, strawberry jam)!

Allowing...Easier Said Than Done

Over the last two years or so, the conversation of allowing for life and whatever it has in store has been very prevelant in my family. Whether it be concerning the problems that arise when you have siblings that are half of your age, moving to a new house or country, or overcoming racial stigma, allowing for the things that come our way is a necessary struggle. This is a major hurdle for me regardless of the situation, but at the same time it is something that I am committed to achieving.

Just after I broke my leg in the Autumn of 2009, I was laying in bed on my computer (as there wasn't much to do), when I began to download podcasts of all kinds. I started listening to recordings from Buddhists centers where people would engage in discussion following meditation.One specific podcast stuck with me. They were on the subject of grief, a topic most people can relate to on some level, and one I thought was especially pertinent at the time since I was trying to swallow the fact that I had lost the season I anticipated for 10 months in a matter of seconds. Among other things, they talked about being with sadness, and allowing for its presence, recognizing it's there and that it is a part of life's constant cycle.

It was all flowing nicely but the mention of one specific example struck at every appropriate heartstring. The speaker quoted a book that was discussing how scientists have measured the sound waves outside of cocoons and determined that the caterpillar in the cocoon is actually screaming in pain. From this we can gather that while transformation is often a painful process, it turns into something beautiful- a butterfly. I listened to the two minute explanation multiple times and decided that was a necessary point to live by.

This last November, my sister came to Minnesota to visit, and while I had told her the story during her pregnancy (6 months earlier and definitely necessary timing), I reminded her of it and proposed and image of a tattoo symbolizing the concept with

the word "allow" running down the cocoon. Three days later, we had the tattoo, though in different spots and with slightly different details.

As I approach yet another hiatus from my mom and sister, two people I consider to be a part of me, I am constantly reminding myself to allow for the space between us as it will be that much sweeter when I see them again. Along with that, I am allowing for my time in Greece to be an adventure in which I will try my hardest not to be attached to the outcome.

Basically, I feel as though the problems in our lives, regardless of their size or relative importance, are a direct result of a lack of allowance. It is now my life mission to minimize if not eliminate that small-minded behavior.

Envious

I stumbled upon this drawing while fiddling online a few weeks ago and I can't get over the beautiful, fine, details. I always admire people who can present a finished product, something that looks so complete, especially when it's just charcoal and graphite. The artist's name is Anne Judell.

Here is the website I found it on, some others by the same artist, and many more!

New Direction

It's been a while since I posted an update on my life, and as can be expected, many things have changed. I am approaching my last week of a near two-month stay in Mexico with my family, and although it feels like I just got here, in retrospect, quite a few things have happened.

As usual, our holiday was sabotaged by yet another case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and instead of sitting around the tree on Christmas Eve, I got a phone call from my mother screaming "Call the FBI Chloe!" in response to my stepfather being arrested by corrupt police. I am starting to appreciate the days in between "important holidays" opposed to operating with the rest of the world on the reverse schedule in the interest of avoiding any more major disappointment. New Years day marked the turn around as the family christened the brand new, chemical-free

pool; we swam all day and listened to an eclectic mix over the outdoor speaker system. The next few weeks had less drama, but don't be fooled, we were not low on entertainment.

I will be returning to Minnesota (where the average temperature right now is not above 10 degrees) in a week to train with my soccer team and gather my things before leaving for the Greek Islands to study abroad at the end of February. Each night before bed my mind is occupied with the many possible outcomes this trip may hold:

• I will live in total bliss and relaxation, a block from the beach, while learning another way to approach writing, photography, and life.

That is actually the only outcome I have been imagining, mixed in with snippets of stress, home-sickness, and a thirst for endless traveling. I am manifesting that while having two sides of my family live in two separate countries has been slightly upsetting at times, it has forced me to adapt to living in a foreign place for long periods of time while learning to refer to that place as "home".

Catch ya later Mexico, here I come Greece!