Anyway, I loved this video. Once again, Jane Goodall has earned my respect and admiration, and eloquently verbalizes exactly the way I feel about science. What good is it if we don't feel something?
16 September 2014
Why I always loved her
Jane Goodall has been one of my heroes for as long as I can remember. As a child, and for years, my greatest dream was to one day live in the rainforest and study the plants and animals that lived there. I was determined to end the effects of deforestation and protect that beautiful, mysterious ecosystem. Today, I have been to rain forests in Central and South America for short visits, and they still fill me with awe and a desire to explore and learn and adventure. While I decided to take a different route and am not directly out to save the trees, that is still closely related to my chosen field. I am now a graduate student in journalism with a focus on international/international development journalism. And rain forests are essential to development and the continued health of economies and growth.
11 November 2013
On Not Going With the Flow
The rough, uneven, illogical course of my life has taken me through ups and downs. I have gone in directions that seemed counter-intuitive. Strange or indirect. My path has not been clearly linear. Plans have held little weight in the end. I have gone one direction then another. I have changed my mind and gone in circles. But I have always directed the path. Choices have taken me this way and that. I have faced the unknown, the logic-less, the uncertain. Yet, I have chosen those unsure corners of the future. Each and every one.
Until lately. I find myself seemingly motionless. Or perhaps adrift.The course of my life going onward as it must necessarily do. But with no determination. With so little decisiveness. Rather it seems my days have been filled with little trifles--social engagements, work obligations, appointments and entertainments. Schedules and chores and busy-ness. The consciousness, the purposefulness has faded. Introspection lost amid the "stuff to do". I find myself like a pebble in a river bottom. The days rushing over me like great currents. Waters bury me under the incessant strength of their flow. Carrying me indifferently in whatever direction they may go. And rather than push my way through; rather than swim; rather than flounder, even, in some direction of my own, I find myself being swept away passively, submissively--unresistant--into those uncaring waves of passing time. Going where, if, when the days will send me. Moving of necessity. Living for the sake of living.
Thoughts cross my mind. Where do I want to be? Where do I want to go?What do I need to do? But they reach me as if in a fog. Blurred by the rushing waves that are each day and it's busy obligations. They reach me as if through the film of sleep that clouds the mind. Sleepy, hazy. Nothing urgent. Nothing impending. Only flowing in the ease of the path of least resistance.
The path of least resistance: The job you have. The place you live. The locales you frequent. The schedule you keep. They are here. They require no new decisions. No choices. No disturbances to the great sleep of indifference. But in the unconscious flow of time the lose meaning. They offer so little growth.
I feel myself restless in my sleep. Ready to press through the haze into wakefulness. Prepared to rise out to the flow that pushes me carelessly forward. The strength to break out of this mindless passivity is awakening, resurfacing. It is time to reclaim my course. Set my path.
I am afraid. Making choices means making mistakes. It means taking risks. Getting hurt and even sometimes hurting others. It means doing what is difficult and exhausting and sometimes not entirely enjoyable. Of your own free will.
But I somehow feel.... it ends beautifully.
Until lately. I find myself seemingly motionless. Or perhaps adrift.The course of my life going onward as it must necessarily do. But with no determination. With so little decisiveness. Rather it seems my days have been filled with little trifles--social engagements, work obligations, appointments and entertainments. Schedules and chores and busy-ness. The consciousness, the purposefulness has faded. Introspection lost amid the "stuff to do". I find myself like a pebble in a river bottom. The days rushing over me like great currents. Waters bury me under the incessant strength of their flow. Carrying me indifferently in whatever direction they may go. And rather than push my way through; rather than swim; rather than flounder, even, in some direction of my own, I find myself being swept away passively, submissively--unresistant--into those uncaring waves of passing time. Going where, if, when the days will send me. Moving of necessity. Living for the sake of living.
Thoughts cross my mind. Where do I want to be? Where do I want to go?What do I need to do? But they reach me as if in a fog. Blurred by the rushing waves that are each day and it's busy obligations. They reach me as if through the film of sleep that clouds the mind. Sleepy, hazy. Nothing urgent. Nothing impending. Only flowing in the ease of the path of least resistance.
The path of least resistance: The job you have. The place you live. The locales you frequent. The schedule you keep. They are here. They require no new decisions. No choices. No disturbances to the great sleep of indifference. But in the unconscious flow of time the lose meaning. They offer so little growth.
I feel myself restless in my sleep. Ready to press through the haze into wakefulness. Prepared to rise out to the flow that pushes me carelessly forward. The strength to break out of this mindless passivity is awakening, resurfacing. It is time to reclaim my course. Set my path.
I am afraid. Making choices means making mistakes. It means taking risks. Getting hurt and even sometimes hurting others. It means doing what is difficult and exhausting and sometimes not entirely enjoyable. Of your own free will.
But I somehow feel.... it ends beautifully.
And at least it is mine.
02 May 2013
Film going: To the Wonder
Last night I saw the film To the Wonder.
I am still in awe.
This film follows the love and lives of an American man, Niel, and a French woman, Marina, who meet in France and move together to a small town in Oklahoma. We catch glimpses of their lives as their love waxes and wanes through time. The film weaves through the changes they face as a couple and as individuals. Beautiful moments and troubled times. Discontent and sublime happiness. Confidence and doubt. Tied into the tale are a love story between Niel and his childhood sweetheart, Jane, and the quiet struggles of a Spanish ex-patriot priest, Father Quintanna serving his parish in this small Oklahoma town. In much the way our characters seek to find, keep and understand their love, Quintana is reaching out for faith and for Christ, whom he has seemingly lost among the all too real lives of his congregants and the seeming lack of divinity around him. Though the characters overlap and their lives intersect, the stories remain separate and individual. Each unique.
The film is raw. Emotional. Narrated, vaguely, in turn by the various characters as they move through the phases in their lives and loves. As they struggle and question and seek and yearn for that which they cannot find or cannot hold on to.
It is also beautiful. Not just emotionally, but visually as well. The scenes are simple, yet at times take on an almost fairy-tale-like quality. Whimsical and flowing. The lighting and angles are gorgeous. Stark. Brilliant. Elegant. Dreamy. It is we, the audience, are half in a dream. In fact, the entirety of the film might be described as dreamlike. Hazy. The fragments one remembers after waking up. Unfinished and even, in parts, incoherent. Yet the moments are still surprisingly potent; the emotions inexplicably strong.
I recommend it highly...but know that this will be dreamy, emotional, abstract.. and the narrative sparse and elusive. I like that I guess. It was powerful enough to make me weep. So who knows, maybe you will love it too.
I am still in awe.
This film follows the love and lives of an American man, Niel, and a French woman, Marina, who meet in France and move together to a small town in Oklahoma. We catch glimpses of their lives as their love waxes and wanes through time. The film weaves through the changes they face as a couple and as individuals. Beautiful moments and troubled times. Discontent and sublime happiness. Confidence and doubt. Tied into the tale are a love story between Niel and his childhood sweetheart, Jane, and the quiet struggles of a Spanish ex-patriot priest, Father Quintanna serving his parish in this small Oklahoma town. In much the way our characters seek to find, keep and understand their love, Quintana is reaching out for faith and for Christ, whom he has seemingly lost among the all too real lives of his congregants and the seeming lack of divinity around him. Though the characters overlap and their lives intersect, the stories remain separate and individual. Each unique.
The film is raw. Emotional. Narrated, vaguely, in turn by the various characters as they move through the phases in their lives and loves. As they struggle and question and seek and yearn for that which they cannot find or cannot hold on to.
It is also beautiful. Not just emotionally, but visually as well. The scenes are simple, yet at times take on an almost fairy-tale-like quality. Whimsical and flowing. The lighting and angles are gorgeous. Stark. Brilliant. Elegant. Dreamy. It is we, the audience, are half in a dream. In fact, the entirety of the film might be described as dreamlike. Hazy. The fragments one remembers after waking up. Unfinished and even, in parts, incoherent. Yet the moments are still surprisingly potent; the emotions inexplicably strong.
I recommend it highly...but know that this will be dreamy, emotional, abstract.. and the narrative sparse and elusive. I like that I guess. It was powerful enough to make me weep. So who knows, maybe you will love it too.
01 April 2013
What might have been
 |
It wasn't a love letter. It wasn't spectacular or awesome or particularly poetic. It was a simple note from a friend. About a friendship; a shared experience.
And it made me bawl.
Just for 30 seconds. But it was so sudden I was taken completely by surprise at my own emotions. Why did this strike me so powerfully? Why was I so overwhelmed in that moment? Was I sad? Nostalgic? Happy? I think it was all of those things really. But not quite any of them. Reading that note in simple black ink on plain sheets of lined yellow paper, I was completely engulfed, for those few seconds, in the possibilities that existed then that have since passed me by. I was suddenly back in a place that I have left. A time that is completely gone. And with it have disappeared moments and opportunities and potential that were very real for me then. Things that once could have been, but now will never be.
It's not sad, really. It's not a bad thing that life moves forward and some possibilities fade from view. There are always others that move in to take their place. The old cliche, one door closes and another door opens. True enough. Usually. A forgone opportunity is not the end. Some other hopeful potential will find its way into your life.
But still.
Not all doors are the same. Not every possibility is comparable. It would be ridiculous to weigh the un-happened of the past to the not-yet-occurred of the present. The hypothetical can only be imagined and predictions are dangerously unreliable. Yet, while knowing the reality of those possibilities is beyond our reach, it is easy enough to see that the outcomes would have been different. For good or bad. Better or worse. Every "might have been" is an unknown road into a life you will never lead. And while it is important to embrace the present and the opportunities we do have, here and now, perhaps there is nothing wrong with mourning, for a moment, from time to time, the little things that have slipped away. That have moved from the realm of potential into that of unreality.
And sometimes, it's just good to really cry.
17 March 2013
magic man
Saturday night was the very definition of gorgeousness. Beautiful music. Lovely people. The unity of so many different people in moments of pure delight. Just pure joy.
and another new one,
I've loved Josh Ritter for a long time (thanks to my friend Doug!). But at his concert, I suddenly felt a new connection to the man behind the music. The man whose music could fill a room with awe and wonder. Whose joyous love of his craft was apparent in every aspect of his performance. Whose gratitude for his listeners and whose enjoyment of being in that moment, on that stage was palpable. Who brought every voice in the room together in a chorus that filled the Rialto Theater with a little piece of love. Because no one there could have helped but love this incredible music man. It felt a little bit like magic. Or heaven.
So enjoy....
a new one,
and another new one,
and an oldy, but a goody :)
The opening band was also breathtaking. The lead singer's voice is out of this world powerful!
Have a listen to Lake Street Dive:
14 March 2013
3.14
Today my students celebrated Pi Day by writing "Pi-ku" (found here). They tried writing both about Pi in a normal 17 syllable haiku and writing one with lines of 3, 1 and 4. Clever, right?! (Well.. the idea wasn't mine. But the kids still enjoyed it!)
This is the example I came up with:
Pi
Goes on forever
but the only part I know
is three point one four
And the Pi-ku version:
Solve for pi?
I'd
rather eat pie!
What would your Pi Day haiku be??
12 March 2013
small steps
I'm not much of a video game lover. In fact, rather the contrary. But I still find a great deal of joy in this:
Honestly, that is one awesome Dad! If all men cared that much about the effects of inequality (no matter how seemingly small or insignificant) on the lives of the women they love, the world would be a pretty amazing place! Seriously.
"When Mike Mika saw the disappointment on his daughter's face when she realized Pauline wasn't a playable character in Donkey Kong, he felt a call to action. Thankfully Mika happens to be a competent developer, and after a few late-night hours spent hacking the NES version of Nintendo's classic, he accomplished the role reversal his daughter had wished for. Mario was now under Donkey Kong's control, and Pauline was tasked with rescuing the plumber in distress.You can read the rest here.
Honestly, that is one awesome Dad! If all men cared that much about the effects of inequality (no matter how seemingly small or insignificant) on the lives of the women they love, the world would be a pretty amazing place! Seriously.
09 March 2013
Helpless??
Years ago, in Cochabamba, Bolivia, I was standing on a street corner with my friend Jean, waiting for some people to join us. As we stood there, we noticed a girl alone on the other side of the street. And nearby, two young men. There was something odd about the situation. Or at least, it seemed odd to us as we observed the three. Suddenly, one of the boys went up to the girl and she seemed to be trying to get him to leave her alone. Then, the other one started running up. Not knowing what to do, I instinctively started moving towards them and yelling something.
But before I could see what happened, Jean grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away. She was terrified. And suddenly, so was I. Maybe it was because we had just been robbed a day or two before by four young men with a gun. Maybe it was because I had no idea what I would have done if there was some sort of trouble. Maybe it was because in reality, I wasn't sure if anything was going on and maybe I was just making a scene. But as we ran the other way down the street I was overwhelmed by a horrifying sense of helplessness.
I was useless.
Powerless.
Ridiculous.
Last night, I was left with a similar feeling.
While some friends and I were eating dinner in a restaurant, a man came by pulling a woman aggressively by the arm. She pulled her arm away and walked out in front of him. As everyone at my table exchanged confused glances, I saw them walk by the window. Again, he was violently dragging her along. I mentioned this to my friends and decided to go outside and see what was going on. They were arguing on the street. I stood there for a minute and then... went inside.
I wanted to intervene somehow. I wanted to say something. But I didn't. I went back to the table and sat down again with my friends and we all went on almost as if nothing had happened.
Something did happen though. And I regret my lack of action. I don't know if it was because I was a little frightened. Or embarrassed. Or feeling silly since no one else seemed to think it was a big deal (and I am, to my shame, really sensitive about being considered an "over reactor"). Or maybe because I just had no idea what I could or should do. Whatever the reason, I should have done more than just stand on the street for a moment staring at them and feeling unsettled and awkward. I should have acted.
This morning, still feeling upset over the incident from last night, I started to consider the problem. Mostly, I feel like I need more information (and probably courage too). I need to know what the right thing to do is. Can you just go up to someone and say, "Is everything alright?" Is that too weird and invasive? Or is that the right thing to do when you are concerned about a situation? So I did a little research. I am attaching a few articles (here and here and here) in case anyone else is interested in some advice on dealing with abusive situations in public. I feel much more confident to act now. And though I still feel guilty for doing nothing, I think if I see something like that again, I will know what to do.
Also, in honor of International Women's Day yesterday (coincidence??), while I am proud of the great strides women have made in our country an around the world, there is still so much work to be done if we want true equality and justice for all people. Just the fact alone that I was the only person in the restaurant who even got out of my chair when a woman was being dragged out by her arm (and still did absolutely nothing useful), reminds me that physical (and emotion and mental) abuse is still far too commonplace in our society. We ALL have work to do if this is ever going to change. I love this article about the need for men and women to work together to end violence and promote equality. This is a conversation that needs to be front and center in our lives. And luckily, there are some great people and organizations that are facilitating discussion and awareness and making incredible strides in our communities! This list of things you can do from ONE is a great place to start.
Because the truth is, we don't have to be helpless!
But before I could see what happened, Jean grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away. She was terrified. And suddenly, so was I. Maybe it was because we had just been robbed a day or two before by four young men with a gun. Maybe it was because I had no idea what I would have done if there was some sort of trouble. Maybe it was because in reality, I wasn't sure if anything was going on and maybe I was just making a scene. But as we ran the other way down the street I was overwhelmed by a horrifying sense of helplessness.
I was useless.
Powerless.
Ridiculous.
Last night, I was left with a similar feeling.
While some friends and I were eating dinner in a restaurant, a man came by pulling a woman aggressively by the arm. She pulled her arm away and walked out in front of him. As everyone at my table exchanged confused glances, I saw them walk by the window. Again, he was violently dragging her along. I mentioned this to my friends and decided to go outside and see what was going on. They were arguing on the street. I stood there for a minute and then... went inside.
I wanted to intervene somehow. I wanted to say something. But I didn't. I went back to the table and sat down again with my friends and we all went on almost as if nothing had happened.
Something did happen though. And I regret my lack of action. I don't know if it was because I was a little frightened. Or embarrassed. Or feeling silly since no one else seemed to think it was a big deal (and I am, to my shame, really sensitive about being considered an "over reactor"). Or maybe because I just had no idea what I could or should do. Whatever the reason, I should have done more than just stand on the street for a moment staring at them and feeling unsettled and awkward. I should have acted.
This morning, still feeling upset over the incident from last night, I started to consider the problem. Mostly, I feel like I need more information (and probably courage too). I need to know what the right thing to do is. Can you just go up to someone and say, "Is everything alright?" Is that too weird and invasive? Or is that the right thing to do when you are concerned about a situation? So I did a little research. I am attaching a few articles (here and here and here) in case anyone else is interested in some advice on dealing with abusive situations in public. I feel much more confident to act now. And though I still feel guilty for doing nothing, I think if I see something like that again, I will know what to do.
Also, in honor of International Women's Day yesterday (coincidence??), while I am proud of the great strides women have made in our country an around the world, there is still so much work to be done if we want true equality and justice for all people. Just the fact alone that I was the only person in the restaurant who even got out of my chair when a woman was being dragged out by her arm (and still did absolutely nothing useful), reminds me that physical (and emotion and mental) abuse is still far too commonplace in our society. We ALL have work to do if this is ever going to change. I love this article about the need for men and women to work together to end violence and promote equality. This is a conversation that needs to be front and center in our lives. And luckily, there are some great people and organizations that are facilitating discussion and awareness and making incredible strides in our communities! This list of things you can do from ONE is a great place to start.
Because the truth is, we don't have to be helpless!
20 February 2013
That thing I said in class just now ....
"I think somebody needs to kill Michael!"
Even in context while Michael was playing Montezuma being killed by Cortes and the Spanish explorers in their class play, it seemed like an awkward thing to say.
Almost as awkward as my student pronouncing the missionaries in our history book "Cath-oholics."
Welcome to life in the Fourth Grade!
06 February 2013
mix 'n' match
what do you get when you combine one of your favorite singers with lyrics about your favorite home town?
must be losing my mind...
i love this too
and this
and everything brett dennen sings.
i'm obsessed.
must be losing my mind...
i love this too
and this
and everything brett dennen sings.
i'm obsessed.
30 January 2013
An elementary course on making friends
Today when I got to school one of my students looked up at me and excitedly shrieked, "Messy hair!!!"
After feeling embarrassed for a few moments, I decided she actually must have just felt a special connection to me, since her pretty blond hair is regularly a bit of a rat's nest. And it made me a little more okay with her pointing out that I am sporting a slightly more disheveled look today.
Only second to the enjoyment my students get when my hair is a disaster is how pleased they are when I flip out and jump "5 feet in the air" when the fire alarm goes off. They could laugh about that for hours!
And they did.
Actually.... they still are.
After feeling embarrassed for a few moments, I decided she actually must have just felt a special connection to me, since her pretty blond hair is regularly a bit of a rat's nest. And it made me a little more okay with her pointing out that I am sporting a slightly more disheveled look today.
Only second to the enjoyment my students get when my hair is a disaster is how pleased they are when I flip out and jump "5 feet in the air" when the fire alarm goes off. They could laugh about that for hours!
And they did.
Actually.... they still are.
29 January 2013
Demonstrations in liberty
These days there seems to be plenty of room to doubt the "Of the people, by the people, for the people" ideal that has historically been, at least in theory, the backbone of our nation. How much does your voice really matter? How often is the average person heard? Aren't our questionable politicians and big businesses really running the show these days? If you don't make millions, does your citizenship even count?
I know I sound like a pessimist, and there are certainly times when I feel that way. I seriously question at times how much of a difference I can make. And I don't think I'm the only one. That is one factor, I believe, in the increasingly whinny, but persistently inactive political discussions that I hear coming from all directions most of the time. And even if it isn't exactly excusable, it is certainly understandable. Many of us don't feel like there is much we can actually do to make a difference.
But in reality, I don't think it's true. We, all of us, individuals, can actually have a great impact on our nation, our communities and even the world. We just have to know where to look and do the things we really can do. Just as one important, if slightly odd, example are online petitions.
Yes, yes. I know what you're thinking. Those lame emails and Facebook promptings we all get to "sign your support" and "join the petition" to change the world. Can those possibly be more than some cheesy gimmick? Can typing your name on a list actually make a difference? And isn't that a pretty silly and even lazy way to "make a difference"?
Maybe. Yet I still think that, in some ways, these online petitions are actually a beacon of hope and an updated nod to a past of political and social activism that can appeal to many people living in today's digital world. Pledging your support on a petition can make the difference necessary to sway political decisions and show where public opinion really lies on important issues. There are many sites these days like Change.org that allow people to make online petitions and rally for support from unknown strangers who commiserate with the originator's concerns. And together, they actually do change things. From legislation to store policies to justice for the falsely accused or support for causes from around the world, many of the petitions get enough signatures to get noticed at least. And sometimes they even succeed in making an important change! Rather often.
So, is it worth it to sign an online petition? I think so. At least, I think it is if you care about the issue being petitioned and you are someone who think wants to be involved in righting wrongs and affecting change.
Now, I don't pretend that signing petitions, even if you did it all day everyday, would amount to being actively involved in making the world a better place or would suffice in doing our civic duties. There are far too many people who need our help and far too many projects that need hands and brains and hearts invested in making them work. We can and should be involved in every way we can.
Yet, there is something very beautiful about the power of people coming together, even it is just online. Because we do have a say. We do make a difference. And the things you sign your name to do say something about who you are and what you stand for. It is important to make those things known.
By the way, this all came up because of this petition to help save wolves. I signed it and you might want to too. Or not. All I'm saying is, don't discount the small things. In the end, they do all add up. Sometimes I think it is in the small things that we will find the greatest hope.
I know I sound like a pessimist, and there are certainly times when I feel that way. I seriously question at times how much of a difference I can make. And I don't think I'm the only one. That is one factor, I believe, in the increasingly whinny, but persistently inactive political discussions that I hear coming from all directions most of the time. And even if it isn't exactly excusable, it is certainly understandable. Many of us don't feel like there is much we can actually do to make a difference.
But in reality, I don't think it's true. We, all of us, individuals, can actually have a great impact on our nation, our communities and even the world. We just have to know where to look and do the things we really can do. Just as one important, if slightly odd, example are online petitions.
Yes, yes. I know what you're thinking. Those lame emails and Facebook promptings we all get to "sign your support" and "join the petition" to change the world. Can those possibly be more than some cheesy gimmick? Can typing your name on a list actually make a difference? And isn't that a pretty silly and even lazy way to "make a difference"?
Maybe. Yet I still think that, in some ways, these online petitions are actually a beacon of hope and an updated nod to a past of political and social activism that can appeal to many people living in today's digital world. Pledging your support on a petition can make the difference necessary to sway political decisions and show where public opinion really lies on important issues. There are many sites these days like Change.org that allow people to make online petitions and rally for support from unknown strangers who commiserate with the originator's concerns. And together, they actually do change things. From legislation to store policies to justice for the falsely accused or support for causes from around the world, many of the petitions get enough signatures to get noticed at least. And sometimes they even succeed in making an important change! Rather often.
So, is it worth it to sign an online petition? I think so. At least, I think it is if you care about the issue being petitioned and you are someone who think wants to be involved in righting wrongs and affecting change.
Now, I don't pretend that signing petitions, even if you did it all day everyday, would amount to being actively involved in making the world a better place or would suffice in doing our civic duties. There are far too many people who need our help and far too many projects that need hands and brains and hearts invested in making them work. We can and should be involved in every way we can.
Yet, there is something very beautiful about the power of people coming together, even it is just online. Because we do have a say. We do make a difference. And the things you sign your name to do say something about who you are and what you stand for. It is important to make those things known.
By the way, this all came up because of this petition to help save wolves. I signed it and you might want to too. Or not. All I'm saying is, don't discount the small things. In the end, they do all add up. Sometimes I think it is in the small things that we will find the greatest hope.
17 January 2013
26.2
 |
| Birdie and I finished a marathon! |
Last weekend my sister and I flew to Orlando to run a marathon with our aunt at Disney World. It was fun/hard/rewarding/painful/long/awesome/FINISHED! It was especially wonderful running and training with my sister and being there with my aunt. Plus, if you're going to run 26 miles, I suppose Disney World isn't the worst place to do it!!
I have to confess though, I don't think I'll do it again. Too hard on the old body for me! So, after marathon #1, I am officially retiring from my marathoning career. But I'm glad I did it once. Now at least I know I can. And that is something to be pretty amazingly grateful for!
 |
| My sister, aunt and I all done! |
 |
| The whole running crew with our medals! My aunt's running group let us wear their team shirts.. "Will Run For Food!" Right up my ally. |
06 January 2013
once upon a time it was the year 2012
and in that year I did not die. Though perhaps I went into hiding for a bit. Maybe I haven't come out yet completely. But I can't move on without saying something.
Last year was... not really a year. It was not one. A whole. A unified entity.
I think of last year and I feel I lived so many lives in so little time. It is a little scary. And a little hard to explain--being many people. And yet only one.
2012 started smack dab in the middle of my life in Spain. I rang in the new year with my Spain family in the living room of that house where I lived that part of my life. We celebrated with food and dancing and music and joy. Just a year later and it feels like an eternity ago.
A month later, in February, I was home. I was celebrating again. This time, the marriage of a dear best amazing darling friend. It was like being picked up and dropped, for a few days, right into the middle of a life I hadn't lived for years--my friends and family together again for the first time in more than a year for some of us. It was magical. And hard. And wonderful and frightening and short.
Within a week, I was back in my Spain life. Teaching. Traveling. Hanging out with friends and alone and living as if it was all normal and real. Dating and breaking up. Laughing and crying and just being. Until it was done. And there were goodbyes and endings and unanswerable questions about futures. As there usually are.
I left Spain on my own. I spent my 25th birthday as a tourist somewhere in Tuscan Italy, in the middle of a new adventure that was, for the first time, mine alone. Post-Spain. Pre-NewTucson. I wandered through Italy and fell in love with the beautiful landscapes and churches and paintings and history. I drifted through Paris and was enchanted with everything, even though it was sometimes cold, even in July. I ate the best falafel of my life and entered the homes of great artists and felt like the very air there made the world and people and myself lovelier somehow. I decided that my next language would be French.
Days later, in mid-July, I was traipsing through southern Spain with my Dad. Driving on back roads through beautiful countryside. Hiking through otherworldly rock formations. Floating in the salty sea waters of the Mediterranean. Trying to take it all in. But already being pulled into what was next.
When I arrived in Tucson at 11:30 pm on July 29, I was already scheduled to attend training for my new job at 8 am the next morning. In the most unlikely turn of events, I was already a teacher. A 4th grade teacher at a little charter school. And the next unbearably new part of my life had started. right at the end of July. Without pomp or ceremony. Without time to wrap anything up or become (re)acquainted with this new home. What was had ended and what would be was already bulldozing a new path I hardly had time to consider before launching myself into it.
The last 5 months of 2012 were a blur. A terrifying, glorious mess. An education and a re-education. A new beginning. A return to the past. I still hardly know what to do with those months. They disappeared faster than my brain could take them in. I was home for the first time in 6 months or 7 years, depending on how you look at in. But really, I was in a new life and a new place, not even knowing the street names (anymore). There was no time to think or process, there was barely time to breathe. Luckily, I had my family. My friends. Such good friends! And zumba classes and running and great co-workers and funny moments and busy-good weekends. I even went rock climbing--a new love!
Then it was over.
Well, sort of. Because the year and the phase are not the same thing.
I still don't know what to make of 2012. Except that it is all a blessing. One more piece of my life. Of my heart. Of my soul. Of who I am and will be. Whoever that is.
With that, I wish you all an abundance of peace and love, wherever this crazy life takes you!
xo
Last year was... not really a year. It was not one. A whole. A unified entity.
I think of last year and I feel I lived so many lives in so little time. It is a little scary. And a little hard to explain--being many people. And yet only one.
2012 started smack dab in the middle of my life in Spain. I rang in the new year with my Spain family in the living room of that house where I lived that part of my life. We celebrated with food and dancing and music and joy. Just a year later and it feels like an eternity ago.
 |
| The women of my Spain family! |
 |
| A reason to go home. (photo by Spencer Boerup) |
Within a week, I was back in my Spain life. Teaching. Traveling. Hanging out with friends and alone and living as if it was all normal and real. Dating and breaking up. Laughing and crying and just being. Until it was done. And there were goodbyes and endings and unanswerable questions about futures. As there usually are.
 |
| Half way through 2012. Just turned 25. Florence, Italy. |
(I'm not joking, but I should be.)
 |
| Dad and me at The Alhambra. Granada, Spain. |
When I arrived in Tucson at 11:30 pm on July 29, I was already scheduled to attend training for my new job at 8 am the next morning. In the most unlikely turn of events, I was already a teacher. A 4th grade teacher at a little charter school. And the next unbearably new part of my life had started. right at the end of July. Without pomp or ceremony. Without time to wrap anything up or become (re)acquainted with this new home. What was had ended and what would be was already bulldozing a new path I hardly had time to consider before launching myself into it.
The last 5 months of 2012 were a blur. A terrifying, glorious mess. An education and a re-education. A new beginning. A return to the past. I still hardly know what to do with those months. They disappeared faster than my brain could take them in. I was home for the first time in 6 months or 7 years, depending on how you look at in. But really, I was in a new life and a new place, not even knowing the street names (anymore). There was no time to think or process, there was barely time to breathe. Luckily, I had my family. My friends. Such good friends! And zumba classes and running and great co-workers and funny moments and busy-good weekends. I even went rock climbing--a new love!
Then it was over.
Well, sort of. Because the year and the phase are not the same thing.
I still don't know what to make of 2012. Except that it is all a blessing. One more piece of my life. Of my heart. Of my soul. Of who I am and will be. Whoever that is.
With that, I wish you all an abundance of peace and love, wherever this crazy life takes you!
xo
17 November 2012
11 November 2012
Where the world is.
I struggle sometimes, finding myself stuck in the space between the glorious, miraculous, heart-breakingly beautiful, incomprehensibly wonderful fullness of the world and the horrendous, tragic, painful, insensibly cruel side of the same. There is so much more than meets the eye. Everything seems so confused and clouded and complicated. And yet, starkly simple. At the core.
Most of the time, of course, I am just not thinking. I am just living. Trying to make my way through each day with a shred of dignity and, if I'm really lucky, something to feel good about. Something accomplished. I spend most of my time oblivious and drifting. Not reflecting and connecting the various threads of life and thought and emotion that pass through any given day.
But I can't ignore it all for long. Neither the overwhelming goodness and beauty I receive constantly from friends and strangers and family and the World and the Divine. That astonishing generosity and love that exists all around. In the giant bursts or in tiny, hidden corners. Nor the terrible, miserable realities that are constant and undeniable and truly unthinkable, unimaginable and all too real near and far and everywhere all at once. And I find I am not always prepared to hold it all within me. I vacillate from one extreme to the other. Crying tears of joy. Calling out curses to the anguish. Laughing. Laughing because there is nothing more to do--because it is ridiculous and tremendous and incoherent.
Mostly, my heart doesn't know exactly where to land. It is tugged and torn in two. Divided between the good and bad. The beautiful and the hideous. The hopeful and the hopeless.
There I hang. Paralyzed. Wanting to reach for the joyous and the great. To fall firmly on the beautiful land of love, prettiness, kindness, generosity. Yet, I cannot turn my back on the hateful and the mean and the indifferent. Needing to look them square in the face and fight with all my heart. Yet I don't quite.
Instead I float. In the middle. Neither loving nor hating the world. NO! Both loving and hating the world. Despising and loving mankind more than I even know how. Discovering great leaps into a better world. Seeing the degradation and destruction we have caused. Unsure how to tie them together. How can they both exist, side by side? Contradicting and cancelling each other out. Why must there be a tragedy alongside every miracle? Is it necessary to accompany every gain with an equal and opposite loss? Somewhere. For someone. Are we just running in place... for every leap forward another stagger back? Is this inevitable? Can it ever end? Do we want it to? Enough? But really. really. ENOUGH!
That's where I always end up.
I believe there is hope. So, SO much hope.
If we want it. Really, really want it.
Enough to accept everything that comes with it.
Even the inconvenience. The sacrifice.
Because there has to be sacrifice.
Yes, I believe there is hope.
And we can choose it.
Or not.
I guess that's why it's hope.
There is no guarantee.
There is no promise.
Instead, endless and never-ending
Most of the time, of course, I am just not thinking. I am just living. Trying to make my way through each day with a shred of dignity and, if I'm really lucky, something to feel good about. Something accomplished. I spend most of my time oblivious and drifting. Not reflecting and connecting the various threads of life and thought and emotion that pass through any given day.
But I can't ignore it all for long. Neither the overwhelming goodness and beauty I receive constantly from friends and strangers and family and the World and the Divine. That astonishing generosity and love that exists all around. In the giant bursts or in tiny, hidden corners. Nor the terrible, miserable realities that are constant and undeniable and truly unthinkable, unimaginable and all too real near and far and everywhere all at once. And I find I am not always prepared to hold it all within me. I vacillate from one extreme to the other. Crying tears of joy. Calling out curses to the anguish. Laughing. Laughing because there is nothing more to do--because it is ridiculous and tremendous and incoherent.
Mostly, my heart doesn't know exactly where to land. It is tugged and torn in two. Divided between the good and bad. The beautiful and the hideous. The hopeful and the hopeless.
Hope. Or. Hopeless.
There I hang. Paralyzed. Wanting to reach for the joyous and the great. To fall firmly on the beautiful land of love, prettiness, kindness, generosity. Yet, I cannot turn my back on the hateful and the mean and the indifferent. Needing to look them square in the face and fight with all my heart. Yet I don't quite.
Instead I float. In the middle. Neither loving nor hating the world. NO! Both loving and hating the world. Despising and loving mankind more than I even know how. Discovering great leaps into a better world. Seeing the degradation and destruction we have caused. Unsure how to tie them together. How can they both exist, side by side? Contradicting and cancelling each other out. Why must there be a tragedy alongside every miracle? Is it necessary to accompany every gain with an equal and opposite loss? Somewhere. For someone. Are we just running in place... for every leap forward another stagger back? Is this inevitable? Can it ever end? Do we want it to? Enough? But really. really. ENOUGH!
That's where I always end up.
I believe there is hope. So, SO much hope.
If we want it. Really, really want it.
Enough to accept everything that comes with it.
Even the inconvenience. The sacrifice.
Because there has to be sacrifice.
Yes, I believe there is hope.
And we can choose it.
Or not.
I guess that's why it's hope.
There is no guarantee.
There is no promise.
Instead, endless and never-ending
POSSIBILITY.
06 November 2012
A confession of joy
Remember when I said I wasn't as excited about the election this year??
I was kind of wrong!!! I guess I didn't know how I would actually feel until.....
OBAMA WON!!!!!!
And I could not be more excited. Hopeful. Happy!
I hope that in the next four years we will see some important changes in our country. And I hope, as I said before, that we can all come together and work peacefully to make our country a better place for all of us!
YIPPPEEEEEE!!!
05 November 2012
Anticipation
I keep thinking back to 4 years ago. The first time I voted. When I read everything everywhere and after careful thought and preparation, I felt excited and certain about who I should vote for. I was so thrilled to take part in this democratic election ritual.
And I remember when President Obama won. I remember I was in the computer lab in the library typing up some paper, when suddenly there was a shout from somewhere in the foyer. Someone rejoicing. And then the word spread like fire throughout the library and whispers exploded in joy or disappointment. I remember my pride: in my country, my fellow citizens, in people in general. For making what was, in my opinion, the best decision. I remember recognizing that this was a historic moment in our country's history. And it proved me wrong in some of my doubts about the goodness and pureness of people's intentions and views.
In short, I was ecstatic. Full of hope and optimism for the future.
So, things haven't gone quite as planned. I'm not as intense about my feelings in the election this year. I still support President Obama. But maybe with a little less enthusiasm.
Not because I actually think he has been a terrible President like some people. Or because I am less certain about which candidate I support. I am just as sure who I want to win. And I think that Obama has done some good, though certainly he has not been perfect.
Still, I am not so enthused. I am excited to vote. I am grateful for this privilege to express my voice about who will lead my country. I am not unaware of how blessed we are to have the right to participate in the election of our leaders and to express our hopes, fears, disappointments and discontents. It's a great thing.
Only, the difference this time is that I am less hopeful about our attitude as citizens. And the election season hatefulness has not encouraged me much.
I remember how much President Bush was raked over the coals during his Presidency. I guess I thought that was just because people were so completely unhappy with him. I didn't expect the same negativity to continue almost without missing a beat into a new presidency.
I don't pretend that there are not reasons to complain and find fault. In fact, that's my very point. There always will be. There always have been. Unfortunately, if that is where we continue to focus, I truly believe that we will never be satisfied. We will never progress. There will never be real, meaningful change in our nation.
So, I will vote. And I will hope and pray for (what I consider) a favorable outcome in the elections.
But what I want, more than anything, is peacefulness. Helpfulness. No matter what happens, I hope I can do my best to be an asset to my country. I hope my voice can spread hope and love and joy. I hope that even if I disagree with some ideas, that I will find solutions. I hope that we as a nation can gripe a little less and change a little more.
As my mom always taught me, "Be a problem solver!"
Her advice never goes out of style.
Happy voting! Be safe out there!
Oh, and also this:
And I remember when President Obama won. I remember I was in the computer lab in the library typing up some paper, when suddenly there was a shout from somewhere in the foyer. Someone rejoicing. And then the word spread like fire throughout the library and whispers exploded in joy or disappointment. I remember my pride: in my country, my fellow citizens, in people in general. For making what was, in my opinion, the best decision. I remember recognizing that this was a historic moment in our country's history. And it proved me wrong in some of my doubts about the goodness and pureness of people's intentions and views.
In short, I was ecstatic. Full of hope and optimism for the future.
So, things haven't gone quite as planned. I'm not as intense about my feelings in the election this year. I still support President Obama. But maybe with a little less enthusiasm.
Not because I actually think he has been a terrible President like some people. Or because I am less certain about which candidate I support. I am just as sure who I want to win. And I think that Obama has done some good, though certainly he has not been perfect.
Still, I am not so enthused. I am excited to vote. I am grateful for this privilege to express my voice about who will lead my country. I am not unaware of how blessed we are to have the right to participate in the election of our leaders and to express our hopes, fears, disappointments and discontents. It's a great thing.
Only, the difference this time is that I am less hopeful about our attitude as citizens. And the election season hatefulness has not encouraged me much.
I remember how much President Bush was raked over the coals during his Presidency. I guess I thought that was just because people were so completely unhappy with him. I didn't expect the same negativity to continue almost without missing a beat into a new presidency.
I don't pretend that there are not reasons to complain and find fault. In fact, that's my very point. There always will be. There always have been. Unfortunately, if that is where we continue to focus, I truly believe that we will never be satisfied. We will never progress. There will never be real, meaningful change in our nation.
So, I will vote. And I will hope and pray for (what I consider) a favorable outcome in the elections.
But what I want, more than anything, is peacefulness. Helpfulness. No matter what happens, I hope I can do my best to be an asset to my country. I hope my voice can spread hope and love and joy. I hope that even if I disagree with some ideas, that I will find solutions. I hope that we as a nation can gripe a little less and change a little more.
As my mom always taught me, "Be a problem solver!"
Her advice never goes out of style.
Happy voting! Be safe out there!
Oh, and also this:
22 October 2012
LATEST UPDATE: Loss of reasoning abilities and moderation sweep country
Recently, there have been increased incidence of what are known as "hearing malfunctions" among United States citizens. From West to East and North to South, no population seems to be immune to this malfunction, and reports of it are increasing daily. Strangely enough, when this disorder occurs people across the country are listening to the same words at the same time, yet, despite written transcripts and the ability to replay the exact words, there is increasing disagreement on what is actually being said.
This is just one symptom of a frightening epidemic of what some are starting to refer to "Partisanitis." The affects are quite tragic, leaving victims seething and seizing in overblown fits of rage, indignation and childishness. And scariest of all is that the infected actually believe themselves to be in an increased state of awareness and accuracy--when faced with real facts and rational thinking "Partisanisia" seems to set in and only a very limited and selective portion of the world population, history and reality in general seems able to enter the affected minds. All other views are categorized as cruel, stupid, unrealistic, ridiculous and even evil.
The epidemic is characterized by the following symptoms:
First, the disease seems to start with a slight eye problem, wherein everything begins to look not just black and white, but actually distinct shades of red and blue. Interestingly enough, personal opinion strongly influences the side affects of the afflicted patients. Depending on ideas and feelings of the patient, either red or blue begins to produce extreme feelings of anger, resentment and distrust. It is also associated with emotional outbursts and unreasonable characterizations of people and ideas associated with the unfavorable color.
Next comes the earlier mentioned hearing malfunctions. These are directly related to the color associations. When a person or group is associated with the upsetting color, everything said is understood by the affected mind as an evil attempt to destroy lives--often the patient believes the words are a direct affront to their personal well-being and value system. On the other hand, when a person associated with the other, favorable color speaks, there is a feeling of calm, approval and support. This feeling may be produced at times through actual evidence, but is generally founded on nothing more than vague statements that cannot be tried, proven or substantiated in reality. As, in fact, are the upsetting statements.
However, the most disgraceful and tragic side affect of Partisanitis occurs when the infected persons begin, as if driven and unable to control themselves, to attempt to spread their disease to as wide an audience as possible. This takes the form of unpleasant and often embarrassing statements strewn across social media sites, sickeningly falsified data published in advertisements and across the news, internet and posted on bumper-stickers, and much more. People speak as though there were no alternative perspective and as though those associated with the negatively perceived color were actually devil possessed and seeking the demise of the entire human population. Or at least certain populations deemed important by the affected persons.
All inhabitants of the United States are encouraged to be on guard for signs of Partisanitis in themselves and those they know. It is suggested that when these disturbing behaviors are observed that they be ignored and the person displaying them pitied. While Partisanitis tells the victims of the disease otherwise, it should be stated that there is no secret plot by any person currently seeking to be elected as President of the United States to overthrow the government, wreck the lives of all humans and destroy the world. And while those suffering from the affects of this ailment will try to convince you that one color-associated person or another is actually, as one patient of partisanitis put it, "hiding your true motive to make America weak and vulnerable," these are the ramblings of sick minds.
Unaffected citizens are asked to calmly review facts, make logical and reasonable decisions, discuss issues and listen to the views of other unaffected, rational people with respect and dignity. It is not advisable, under any circumstances, to attempt a reasonable, rational or logical discussion with any person suffering from Partisanistis. There is no cure except for what can be called an "epiphany" of reason that takes place within the patient. These are rare and miraculous but do occur in some more evolved patients. In the meantime, we must be patient and hope that by the end of November our families, friends and associates will be restored to their normal selves, as is often the case (though sadly, some of the infected are irredeemable even outside of election season).
Be careful out there!
This is just one symptom of a frightening epidemic of what some are starting to refer to "Partisanitis." The affects are quite tragic, leaving victims seething and seizing in overblown fits of rage, indignation and childishness. And scariest of all is that the infected actually believe themselves to be in an increased state of awareness and accuracy--when faced with real facts and rational thinking "Partisanisia" seems to set in and only a very limited and selective portion of the world population, history and reality in general seems able to enter the affected minds. All other views are categorized as cruel, stupid, unrealistic, ridiculous and even evil.
The epidemic is characterized by the following symptoms:
First, the disease seems to start with a slight eye problem, wherein everything begins to look not just black and white, but actually distinct shades of red and blue. Interestingly enough, personal opinion strongly influences the side affects of the afflicted patients. Depending on ideas and feelings of the patient, either red or blue begins to produce extreme feelings of anger, resentment and distrust. It is also associated with emotional outbursts and unreasonable characterizations of people and ideas associated with the unfavorable color.
Next comes the earlier mentioned hearing malfunctions. These are directly related to the color associations. When a person or group is associated with the upsetting color, everything said is understood by the affected mind as an evil attempt to destroy lives--often the patient believes the words are a direct affront to their personal well-being and value system. On the other hand, when a person associated with the other, favorable color speaks, there is a feeling of calm, approval and support. This feeling may be produced at times through actual evidence, but is generally founded on nothing more than vague statements that cannot be tried, proven or substantiated in reality. As, in fact, are the upsetting statements.
However, the most disgraceful and tragic side affect of Partisanitis occurs when the infected persons begin, as if driven and unable to control themselves, to attempt to spread their disease to as wide an audience as possible. This takes the form of unpleasant and often embarrassing statements strewn across social media sites, sickeningly falsified data published in advertisements and across the news, internet and posted on bumper-stickers, and much more. People speak as though there were no alternative perspective and as though those associated with the negatively perceived color were actually devil possessed and seeking the demise of the entire human population. Or at least certain populations deemed important by the affected persons.
All inhabitants of the United States are encouraged to be on guard for signs of Partisanitis in themselves and those they know. It is suggested that when these disturbing behaviors are observed that they be ignored and the person displaying them pitied. While Partisanitis tells the victims of the disease otherwise, it should be stated that there is no secret plot by any person currently seeking to be elected as President of the United States to overthrow the government, wreck the lives of all humans and destroy the world. And while those suffering from the affects of this ailment will try to convince you that one color-associated person or another is actually, as one patient of partisanitis put it, "hiding your true motive to make America weak and vulnerable," these are the ramblings of sick minds.
Unaffected citizens are asked to calmly review facts, make logical and reasonable decisions, discuss issues and listen to the views of other unaffected, rational people with respect and dignity. It is not advisable, under any circumstances, to attempt a reasonable, rational or logical discussion with any person suffering from Partisanistis. There is no cure except for what can be called an "epiphany" of reason that takes place within the patient. These are rare and miraculous but do occur in some more evolved patients. In the meantime, we must be patient and hope that by the end of November our families, friends and associates will be restored to their normal selves, as is often the case (though sadly, some of the infected are irredeemable even outside of election season).
Be careful out there!
Disclaimer!!!!!!
Experts are still debating the actual diagnosis of Partisanitis.
It has not been officially recognized by the AMA.
However, due to high and increasing incidence the author wishes to bring
the matter to the attention of the innocent.
It should also be mentioned that the author is
NOT IMMUNE
to her own moments of Partisanitis.
She also does find it encouraging and beautiful that many people
have become interested and involved in the election process.
She only wished they would be more civil.
And less disgusting.
Ya know?
17 October 2012
Avoiding. But not giving up.
Every few days I look at my blog, as if to see if by some miracle something has been mysteriously posted there without my knowledge. (hope hope hope)
But alas, nothing new has appeared. And while I have felt increasingly guilty for my neglectfulness (why? how? I am accountable to no one for this blog... and yet...), I have been avoiding it. The truth is, every time I consider writing I either feel suddenly void of anything worthwhile (SPELLING WORD!!.. for my 4th graders) or have too many half-developed, unconnected semi-thoughts running through my mind to decide what I should actually put into a post. My last few (and far between) posts have reflected this dearth of inspiration and I am really quite ready to replace them with something more interesting, thoughtful and important. There are unlimited possibilities to solve this dilemma, but I am either too lazy or too dull to make them work of late.
I am trying to do better.
For now I will just share this:
'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up
I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not
And who I am
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
Still looking up.
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up
I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not
And who I am
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
Still looking up.
Gorgeous words. Beautiful. I am feeling the need to get up and get moving. To do more. To be more. This song reminds me of the hope there is in the world. The never-ending supply of loveliness. The strength and depth of the human spirit. And I can always use that.
Enjoy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)