For Mercy's Sake guys!

I read this this morning with eyes full of tears. Beautiful tears. My dear friend Hilary is helping change lives!
For the sake of Mercy, let's all help make change! 

We're reaching out to you all today to let you know that our dear friend Mercy Oyana needs our help right now, and while the need is great, we believe that together we can make a lifetime of a difference for her.

Less than two weeks ago, Mercy's father Crispin fell from a 3-story ladder and suffered a severe head injury, which put him in a coma. He was taken off life support and passed away the afternoon of Monday, July the 2nd.
In the face of such an inexplicable tragedy and shock, Mercy, together with her mother and brother have another heavy burden to face.
Crispin, a self-employed house painter, and Mercy's mother, Annette, worked together for their business, which has really been struggling in this economy. The accident took place on the site of Crispin's first project in several months, and the family was very much counting on the income. But now, in the face of mounting bills and an uncertain future, Mercy, Annette and her brother Emmanuell are facing the reality that Annette may very soon lose her home.
We, a group of Mercy's friends, have come together to set an ambitious goal of raising $35,000 for her and her family. It is the amount needed to cover medical and funeral expenses, stay in their home, and give Annette a few months to heal and to look for work without worrying about mortgage payments.
Mercy's Facebook status was recently "Falling, falling, falling. I've fallen into a rabbit hole..." It hurt our hearts to read, but we know we can help catch her.
For those who know and love Mercy, we know we've all been hurting with her these past couple weeks. Even those who don't, still know how it feels to hurt for a loved one; one of the hardest parts is not being able to make it better, especially from far away.
This is something we can do though. We told Mercy that her friends would take this one worry at least off her plate-- the fear of severe financial hardship, of even more overwhelming circumstances for her mom. Please help us make good on that promise by giving what you can today.
We estimate that Crispin's project was bringing in about $20/hr. If you can chip in $20 to cover an hour, or $150 to cover a day that would really help us lay the foundation for working towards our goal. Please also consider reaching out to your friends, family, or churches to pool together enough to give $1000, which would have been a week's income, or $5000, which would have been a month's.

Emmanuell and Rikki, with Crispin.

Any funds given will be placed in an account in Crispin's name, and will be administered by the family's church, West Philadelphia Mennonite Fellowship.
Checks can be mailed to:
   West Philadelphia Mennonite Fellowship
   4740 Baltimore Avenue
   Philadelphia, PA 19143
With "Sharing Fund" in the memo line


http://www.facebook.com/ForMercysSake?v=app_190322544333196

72 days of summer

If anyone actually reads these; I solicit your feedback on this entry.

I was 7 the first time I was asked the infamous question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
I can close my eyes and be taken back to that very moment in Easton Pennsylvania.  Surrounded by sweaty Italians in their baptismal bests.  I remember the picnic table, the small blue kiddy pool, the greenness of the grass under my feet, and the feeling and smell of air touching us. 
"I want to be a teacher," I proclaimed.

Its difficult to articulate even now, but it wasn't the traditional vision of a "teacher" in today's society that I saw myself being.
By the time high school came around, and even more strongly by the time high school ended, I knew I wanted one thing. Independence. Everything else was secondary.
I call college my darker years. When I finally started breathing life, I celebrated leaving my zombie state of mind that was college. I lost a family and didn't quite yet know how to start healing.  My desire to achieve total Independence became even brighter. Without anything to fall back on or a place to go home to, I had to survive. That was back in the days when I thought I needed to be in a particular place in order to be home. Silly girl.
I chose to become a special education teacher. Knowing it was my starting place. I had little confirmations daily that I made the "right" choice. My college professors and cooperating teachers raved about my natural skills to teach. So, I kept on going, right?
During my first four years of teaching I had some serious stuff to do. I had to fix a very broken Elissa. I didn't think the pain could hurt in any more places than it already did. But I was wrong. After a grossly disgusting breakup several months after graduating I found there were moments when the pain was so strong I didn't feel anything at all. I hit bottom.
I poured everything I had into being the best teacher I could be. I fell in love with the role of teacher. I fell in love with my students, whom I didn't realize until much later were in fact my teachers. I loved pouring good intentions into my space, our classroom. I spent hours building the library, growing plants, listening to students share stories, building relationships with these little bodies and minds, and learning more about life and our interconnectedness.
After graduating with a Master's in Teaching, ending another relationship, spending 4 years in therapy, and learning as much as I could about this broken educational system I decided to take my adventures elsewhere.

2,333 miles later I was in Tucson, Arizona. Along with a new job, I was also starting a whole new phase of healing. I had a great job as a Behavioral Specialist of a Public High School and a completely new life! What an adventure it was. There were moments where it was slightly eerie how magically things fell into place. I was given a community, friends, decent salary, and so much stinkin' love. My vibration began to shift.

During my short time in Tucson I began putting words to why I felt I wasn't supposed to be a teacher.  But it wasn't until these last 72 days of summer vacation that I finally got it.
drum roll please...
I don't believe the environments that we've created in these rigid buildings, with hundreds of external laws and rules governing every decision are where or how people learn. What has become of public education? How did it get to this? A place where test makers make millions, students share a room with 40 other bodies, and teachers work two jobs?
I feel worn down by the despair emanated from colleagues, students, principals... anyone who has anything to do with Public Education. (Other than those who make the pretty pennies at the top, obviously.)
I can almost taste the next phase.

"You want to be a hula hooper?" you ask. Yes, well, no, but yes.
If I were to be asked to today what I want to be when I grow up I think this is how I would respond;
I dream of being a teacher. And a student.
I dream of balance. Within myself and all over this earth.
I dream of being a famous children's book author.
I dream of being a travel writer. 
I dream of writing about how to wake up happy.
I dream of a world where we all radiate love.
I dream of a world where people do not fear.
I dream of helping others share their stories.
I dream of starting an epidemic of kindness and love. 
I dream of a world where people freely encourage others.
I dream of giving.
I dream of being on Dancing with the Stars.
I dream of living amongst an entire humanity that is more often blissed out than stressed.

I wouldn't replace a single experience I've lived. The very hardest make the good times taste sweeter and richer.
And here I find myself. Ready, ready, ready, to leap... knowing that if I do, the net will appear, but unsure what the leap looks like, or maybe I do?


All thoughts are welcome.
 ecirignotta@gmail.com

Project Andrawesome

Bucket List Addition

There are many things I would like to do, many places I would like to see, and many people I would like to meet during this lifetime. It seems the more I live, the less I plan for the adventures. Some of my most memorable, magical experiences were the unplanned, unexpected adventures. I've never quite known what to do with the traditional "bucket list". You see,  I operate under the assumption/belief that I can do whatever I want to do, and what I chose is the right thing to do. Essentially the whole world is on my bucket list. I try my very best to maximize every moment no matter where I may be, what I may be doing or with whom I may be with; I suppose my goal is to be present in this moment, despite knowing I want to see the whole world over. However when I stumbled across these glass igloos, I knew they were a must.

Hotel Kakslauttanen is in the vicinity of Urho Kekkonen National Park in Finland. They have 40 first-class log cabins, including five queen suites, one honeymoon turf chamber and one traditional Lappish farmer log house. Each cabin comes with its own peaceful garden area. If you are a sauna lover, as I am, you may enjoy the world’s largest smoke sauna, equipped with its own restaurant, the main building log house restaurant, two exotic Lapishtent restaurants and a charming snow restaurant.
Now obviously, the deepest draw to this place are their unique futuristic glass igloos! Supposedly you can view the northern lights while being in the comfort of a "normal" room temperature under the glass ceiling.

Imagine falling asleep in this place. 

Rachel Miller

You may be wondering how it's possible to write a blog entry about a Rachel Miller. 122 million results show up when asking google to find information on Rachel Miller. The United States seems to be riddled with Rachel Millers. Everywhere you go, in many religious communities you enter, you may find yourself meeting a Rachel Miller. 

Several weeks ago I met a power house Rachel Miller that left me inspired. I have found myself silently cheering her on in my quiet moments. I've shared fragments of her song with old friends and new acquaintances. I suppose more than anything I found myself celebrating her and the people like her that fill up our world. 

I was looking for a place to stay in New York while visiting my newborn niece and family. Times are tough, public education is poor, and people are awesome. Couchsurfing (http://www.couchsurfing.org/) is always the way to go. But when I was having trouble finding a place to stay I turned to my friends. Becky, a friend from High School, was celebrating her daughter's 2nd birthday when she got my call. Without a moment's hesitation, her mother overhearing the conversation, insisted that I must meet and stay with Rachel Miller. Rachel had gone to high school with Becky's father and everyone agreed this was a match made in Heaven. For the rest of the evening every time she thought of Rachel and I meeting, she cheered. 

After spending a sleepless night on an airplane, followed by 7 hours of observing my beautiful sister writhe in labor pains I disembarked from the Metro at the West Indies stop, better known as Church Ave. Finding each other was quite simple. I was the non Caribbean person wearing a 34 pound backpack. She was the other non Caribbean person. She was expecting a tall, slender blonde, not someone who "was like her". "Short and JewSiclian looking?", I asked.

We walked to her 2 bedroom,  3rd story Brooklyn apartment and she gave me the house rules. 

1) You are home, make yourself feel it.

2) Eat anything you want. 

My body desperately wanted sleep. Conversation would have to wait. For the next 14 hours I slept and dreamt in a safe and comfortable bed in a safe and comfortable home. 

The following evening Rachel and I shared stories. Rachel is aligned with her truth and that woman speaks it. Loud yet softly, she lets her truth echo throughout the universe.

Rooted in Mennonite Heritage and in pure love, Rachel took me on a journey through religion, oppression, motherhood, marriage, divorce, friendships, starting over, sex, online dating, and  organic adventure.

The Rachel Chronicles will leave you wanting more and more.

Maddalena Guastella Cirignotta, aka Nonna.

In a faraway land of Sicily, in the small town of Scoglitti, lives a 78 year old woman. Her name, Maddalena Guastella Cirignotta. 

She is referred to by many as Zia Lina. Those slightly on the periphery call her Senora Lina. To me, she is Nonna*. 

Nonna was born on March 1, 1934 in Sicily, where she has grown a entire tribe of Sicilians, or so it seems. 

She has 4 children, but birthed 7.  She had two Giambiatistas, two Crociofisos, one Giovanna, and two Rosalbas. Imagine experiencing two still births and an infant death due to illness. The only Zia Giovanna became ill as a toddler and as a result lost her hearing. Nonna's kitchen sign language can not be matched by another.

When her beloved husband of 40 plus years died fifteen years ago, Nonna wore black. For 11 years. 

She has a remedy for most ailments. Upset stomach you say? Nonna would place a lit match in a glass cup and suction it to your upper thigh. And WA-LA! You were either left with singed upper thigh hair, or a cured stomach?

I was having a not so secret summer love affair with the boy on the canary vespa the summer of my 16th year. The 2 to 4 o'clock hours were reserved for nap/rest time in Scoglitti. All was quiet. Or was it?  Canary vespa knew to turn off the engine and walk a block to the back alley and meet me at the window. We would sit and talk and flirt for hours. One day the gig was up. And Nonna chased my Canary love down the street with a broom. 

She's been telling the same stories for at least three decades and makes a fish pasta that is divinity. 

Nonna runs the show.

She can make a grown man cry. 

She is a mother of many. She daily cooks lunch for her sister's son Jonni.   Together they mourn the loss of a sister and mother while filling voids that are left in both of their hearts.

She has two nipoti** with her name. This gives her great pride.

She is currently convinced that I will never find a husband, for sure, because I have a tattoo. What will I do now!?

She giggles when my friends call her Nonna. And manages to find an Italian, or at least a European origin to everyone she meets. I am fairly certain that she pities people that aren't Sicilian. 

Our time together is limited, but more than anything I find myself ridiculously grateful that I had her as mine.

Here's to Nonna!

* Grandmother

**Granddaughters

Anwen Rosemary

At 2:02 am on July 20, 2012 a beautiful 7 pound 13 ounce star child became a part of this beautiful world.

Her name, Anwen Rosemary Daley. She is perfect.

I snuck into the hospital to find my big sister and sweet Anwen peacefully laying together. For the next hour Lena slept while I kissed, smelled, and listened to this sweet baby. I poured welcoming love into her.