Travel is the destination
I loath snow in April. In case you haven’t read my previous post about the turning of the seasons and the abundance of love, you might want to hold off. You know…in case there’s a half inch of ice crystals on your windshield when you wake up the next morning. My honeymoon hope for sunlight romance has been replaced instead by a springtime cynic.
My life is feeling jumbled recently. I moved back into a cubical after a brief stint sharing an office with two fabulous windows and natural light. Our little house on Henry St. had adopted a fuzzy mouse guest that likes to nibble through plastic lids, butternut squash, sacks of flour and sweet potatoes. The weather swings wildly back and forth between frigid wintery chill and balmy spring day. I’ve begun online dating. I’m flying to Washington DC in a week.
2014 is already proving to be a wonderful and terrifying year. So here is a short list of sweet things in my life:
1. Birthday Cards- I sent off a couple birthday cards in the mail this week. I’m bad, very bad, at remembering friends’ birthdays. It’s not for lack of love but more the sporadic nature with which I check my calendar and organize my numerical thoughts. The sending of birthday cards–stamping well wishes and trusting the US Post–feels warm and fuzzy knowing someone far away will physically touch the same envelope and reach the same words that you wrote days earlier. To all my friends whose birthdays I have forgotten, do not despair. There’s always next year. 
2. Brownies- Not just any brownies but Slutty Brownies. I made these beauties for a co-worker’s birthday and they are most intense, dense and luxurious brownies I’ve ever made. It takes all the decision-making (Cookie? Oreo? Brownie?) difficulties out of your dessert treat. Not for the dieter or faint of heart.
3. Sue and Donna-On Mondays and Wednesdays I wake up at 6:10am, stumble out of bed and navigate my way to the gym as my eyelids slowly unglue themselves from sleep. Sue teaches step/rep exercise classes on these mornings and I love her for all her high energy music and dedication to step aerobics. Donna, a spright 50 year old Asian woman, has more energy than a classroom of kindergardeners and personally recruited me for these deathly early morning workouts. But they are quickly becoming part of my personal routine and considering how much butter is in a slutty brownie, it’s probably for the best.
4. Movies- I don’t see movies much, if at all. And yet by tomorrow morning, I will have seen three within a week’s span. And good films at that. The bare and hauntingly beautiful music in Inside Llewyn Davis and the questions of meaning and longevity in Nebraska have stayed with me long after the lights of the movie house faded back into reality. Food for thought. I can only hope Dallas Buyers Club dusts me with an equally powerful residue that I’ll carry out into my daily comings and goings.
5. Untraveled Places– For obvious reasons. Because they’re waiting for you.
I’m sitting at my desk watching the snow drift out of the sky and onto the two lonely minivans in the parking lot beyond my window. The office is quiet today. The world itself seems quiet.
I memorized a poem last week and wanted to share it with you, dear reader. Please close your eyes and imagine a warm place surrounded by the snow globe of your memory.
Like Snow by Wendall Berry
Suppose we did our work
like the snow, quietly, quietly,
leaving nothing out.
Happy Holidays.
During the summer of 2011, I spent three magical months in a southeast Asian island nation that has recently made its way into newspaper headlines and radio interviews. The Philippines was the place I learned to scuba dive, eat fertilized duck eggs, and formed friendships that have continued long after my return flight home. It is a country of beauty and unyielding hope for a better tomorrow.
I want to thank all my friends and family who reached out to me after hearing about the mass devastation due to Typhoon Yolanda. All of my close friends and host families are safe, protected in other parts of the 7,000+ island country. And while the death toll is less than previously estimated, thousands of people are without homes, food, water or clean clothes. My friend Vivienne recounted a story she heard from a friend living amidst the chaos and struggle for survival:
“It looked like a re-enactment of a zombie apocalypse. People there started destroying homes, banks, groceries. It’s crazy. One of my friend told me that her friend who lives there sleep with guns already.”
There are a number of organizations currently receiving donations. Due to poor infrastructure and limited transportation, cash donations are preferred for those living outside of the Philippines.
I will continue to update the post with more organizations accepting aid. My friends in the Philippines are working directly on the ground and I will try to find additional ways to contribute to the cause. Search hashtags on Twitter (#TyphoonHaiyan #yolandaPH #reliefPH #BangonCebu #BangonVisayas #PhilippinesTyphoon) and like these Facebook pages:
Before and After Pictures (Time Magazine)
“So open your heart
Give what you can
We’re all responsible
For our fellow man.”
Excerpt from A Helping Hand by Ray Hansell
I often find daily planning to be annoyingly exhausting: when to eat dinner, return a phone call, hang the clothes, grocery shop. My timed decisions and scheduled obligations fall in series; each moment knocking against the unforeseen progression in domino succession. These frustrations only magnify with the mention of larger questions regarding my current relationships or future career. I find myself constantly asking:
When is the right time?
I learned to ride my bike around eight or nine years old, much later than the other kids in the neighborhood. I had no desire and didn’t feel quite ready. One summer, my best friend passed down her little pink bike with uneven training wheels and I wobbled countless times along my driveway until the road was mine.
When is the right time?
As children, the questions comes pre-answered and the forethought is almost nonexistent. When will we get there? When is dinner? Life was simple. Then school begins, responsibilities grow and puberty directs our thoughts against those of our peers. When is the right time for a first kiss? A boyfriend? A sexual experience? This confusion follows into high school and college, tumbling like gravel along a steel slope gathering force and speed. When to find the right major? The best job? Our parents and loved ones die. We get promoted, move to new cities and buy more furniture. We get married. When is the right time to grieve? To start a family? To hold on? To let go?
And so we compare our choices to those around us. We measure our landmark events against the decisions of others whose lives appear successful and correct. We kiss people because we think it’s time. We wear the same clothing at the same time and cry when deemed appropriate. We get married before our younger siblings do and try to earn as much as our college peers. Timing is everything.
Maybe it’s time to stop asking ourselves what we should be doing. What our friends are doing. What our parents have done. Perhaps there is no right time for any one landmark decision but a series of events that occur or do not occur based on our individual wants and needs. In my last moments, I doubt anyone will compare my timeline against my peers and wonder if I did things too soon or not fast enough.
Perhaps the question we should be asking is: When is my time?
I found my mantra for 2013 while bending forward over my legs inspecting the stubby toes that protruded from my feet. Sunday morning was here again along with my weekly power vinyasa class. A grid of rainbow mats extended in all directions, defining invisible boundaries of personal space. Brandon called out from the front of the room and we began a new transition in a wave of energy. A forest of human spines erupting through space.
Root down. Reach up.
In vinyasa yoga, movement and breath are connected through conscious intension. The mind is aware of the body and in turn, the body is aware of movement and air flow.This morning, in the ritual of sun salutation, I became aware of my emergence into the new year. I tried to define my challenges and goals. Brandon began to speak, to relate yoga to our daily lives. My mind drifted and returned as I struggled to maintain a focused practice. Root down.
Roots prevent trees from toppling over during harsh winds and heavy snows. They pull water and nutrients up from the ground, pry sidewalks apart and grow together in tangled balls beneath canopies of green. Roots can give humans their history or take it away. My legs become one trunk and my roots push past rubber and wood, down through the studio floor.Children without roots wander aimlessly in search of family history and a place to call home. The ceiling fan blows warm air through my branches overhead. Reach up.
People who walk with eyes skyward often benefit from an uplifted disposition. The sail attached to a sturdy mast will always capture the wind. The whispering kite has a reliable base and taut string while individuals with continued success have built a grounded foundation. We cannot choose where our roots begin or where our stories start. But we do have the power to build our roots, strengthen our base and reach toward the heavens. Dreams are only limited by the fungal disease of our self-doubt.
I leave you with my motto for the upcoming year. I hope it provides you strength as you move forward in your own life.
“Root down through the earth. Reach up to the stars. Everything is possible.”
The skin inside my nose tingles just before I’m about to cry. It’s slightly uncomfortable but not a bodily function I can control. The sensation only lasts a couple of seconds, acting as a reminder that my emotional state is being challenged.
Strolling through Bradley International Airport gave my nostrils the same brief sensation, catching me off guard. I doubted any other security employees or fellow travelers felt a strong emotional connection to Gate 29 or the sprinkling of Dunkin’ Donut stands with sleepy-eyed baristas. But there is something about airports-about the precipice of travel- that gives me a feeling a pure bliss. Every wheely suitcase is going somewhere new. Every plane, every seat is stuffed with possibilities of the unknown. “Where are you going?” I want to stop and ask every family and businessman who shuffles by. “Do you see how beautiful it is to jump on a plane and fly?”
So as I sip my latte and look out over the Tarmac, I wish you the feeling of travel on this chilly December morning. For with travel comes the abundance of hope and possibility to challenged hidden preconceived notions about the world. Whether you’ve never flown or have visited every country, the ability to see newness and journey in life should not be overlooked. After all, life is as much about the journey as the destination isn’t it?
I found your wallet and purse while I was walking back to my car tonight. It was next to the gym just after the little parking lot, you know? The girl working the gym’s front desk, Melissa, tried really hard to find a phone number that matched your name or address. She even called 411 but it wasn’t any use. I think she is going to drop it off at your apartment tonight. She said you live really close.
Your cash and credit cards were gone when I found it. I hope that doesn’t make you too sad. Brush, mascara, Sears gift cards–totally intact. What an awful feeling it is to lose something…or have something stolen. A violation, that’s what it is. The young man who stole my phone right out of my hand, he never looked back. I think he knew what it felt like. Maybe he feels like that all the time.
It’s 10:50pm. Maybe Melissa brought your purse back to you already. I sure hope so.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts”
-William Shakespeare
I get the metaphor. Entrance and exit. Life and death. But what about the time before the play is over–the entrances and exits– and anxiously hiding in the wings?
I like to think that our lives are a series of entrance and exits; some cues well rehearsed while others, hastily improvised. The set changes and lighting shifts but the main character remains the same in our one person show. William Shakespeare perfectly articulated the parallels between our everyday existence and the portrayal of human life. Except I took Shakespeare’s advice literally. By auditioning for a play.
So three weeks ago I found myself Googling “1 minute woman monologues” in my parked car outside of Northampton Center for the Arts. I had found an ad in the daily paper but it wasn’t until the day of the audition that I got up the nerve to call and schedule an appointment. Just in time to learn I should have a monologue prepared. OOPS. And despite my confusion and not-so-cool business casual attire, I got a small part in a beloved American classic.
Our Town was written by Thornton Wilder in 1938 and continues to be a staple across the country to this day. In fact, the play was produced 4,000 times in the last decade alone. Our Town takes place in Grover’s Corners, NH and explores life, marriage and death in three simple acts. The set is minimal, props are almost non-existant and the narrator or Stage Manager is constantly breaking the 4th wall to speak with the audience directly. My character, Sam Craig, comes in Act 3 as a town resident who has been gone for some time. Both he and the undertaker move about the graveyard visiting the deceased in the quiet, thoughtful way of two people slowly acknowledging the passage of time. Our production of Our Town will be loosely based in Northampton, MA as a tribute to the Center for the Arts. As a newcomer to the area and to the play, my character could not be a more perfect fit.
I am NOT telling you this because I’m the next Kate Winslet or Lucy Lui*. I’m telling you because whether you audition for the local theatre production or not, you are part of Shakespeare’s “stage”. You are your own character. On that Thursday evening in particular, I decided to be an outgoing, crazy theatre character instead of the easier role of introverted bystandard. Every day we wake up and make character choices that determine how other actors and actresses in our lives will respond. My mom used to tell me that, “there are no small parts, only small actors.” And the world needs you to be the truest, biggest and best you there is. It’s type casting in the best possible way.
*I chose Lucy because she can act, not because she’s asian. Racist.
Hiking can be intimidating. First there is the gear: Camelbak packs or Nalgene water bottles, Columbia hiking boots , the North Face wind resistant pants, and obscure maps with contour lines like thin strands of hair marking the receding elevation. You need necessary snacks, torn between Cliffbars, trail mix, and varieties of dried fruit that you imagine other experienced campers eat on a daily basis. One must also choose the location. Do you travel long distances to the Rocky Mountains or attempt to navigate the trail behind your house in upstate New York, hoping your deer hunting neighbor will not mistake you for a young doe.
Of course, the real fear is not the brand names of waterproof clothing, the food or the specific location of the trail. It is nature itself. Weather is unpredictable, bugs are prevalent, and Googling “beautiful nature views” takes a fraction of the time it takes to actually go out there yourself. But stop for a moment and think. Think about the most beautiful sight you have ever witnessed or the most beautiful place you have been. How many of those memories took place in nature, watching the sun slip behind the gently rolling waves or smelling the violets on the first day of spring? We have become so removed from nature that outdoor adventures are increasingly unknown and dangerous experiences, saved for mountain men and expert campers. Go ahead. Reclaim nature for yourself.
My college roommate and close friend is not a hiker. While Jen is outgoing and very athletic, her favorite experiences in nature are laying on the beach and reading a good book. However, she dressed the part and was more than willing to try a number of hikes during our week in Aspen. The Maroon Bells are some of the most photographed mountains in Colorado. Towering over 14,000 ft, they are a magnificent sight seen with ice patches at all times of the year. Jen and I did the Crater Lake Hike get a special view of these natural wonders. The 3.6 mile hike was a moderate trail, taking less than 2 hours. Our pictures were spectacular and our memories were unforgettable. 
Two days later, I attempted Aspen Mountain which begins at the base of Little Nell and climbs 3267 feet up the Aspen Mountain ski area finishing at the Sundeck Restaurant at an elevation of 11,212 feet. The benefit of such a climb other than the incredible view is the free gondola ride, bringing you safely down the mountain back to where you began your journey hours ago. Our four person group became two about halfway up the steep ascent. The combination of unyielding vertical climbs and high elevation made me question my sanity and physical conditioning more than once as I continued to the top. Many Aspen locals and expert athletics jog up the mountain for exercise, racing during the America’s Uphill spring ritual. Who are these people with the lung capacity and mental stamina? In my mind, they tower over me like gods with large wings and a golden aura around their dusty running sneakers. 
Most of us will never reach this caliber of hiker/jogger/athletic extraordinaire. But each of us can look on a map and pick out a trail that is right for them. Look for opportunities locally. Hike a mile to a nearby waterfall or walk through your local bird sanctuary with a bottle of water and a pair of binoculars. The natural world has sights, sounds and wildlife for everyone to experience. Even if you don’t want to run up Aspen mountain. 
Twelve-toed Traveler 