Dog is Co-pilot

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my dog, Ramona.

That's where I have disappeared off to, this world of dog ownership and the swiftest growing of my heart, expanding with love that increases every day.

I have bonded with other dogs before, notably my parent's newish dog Bea and even more significantly the resident dog on the farm I worked at in 2006, Loki.

Loki

I'll never forget the day that the lunch bell rang and I lingered in the harvest shed with Loki. Normally, the sound of the lunch bell felt so overdue after a morning in the fields that it was all I - and the other workers - could do to not sprint towards the house. Go slowly, look less desperately hungry, I'd tell myself.

This particular morning, I found myself alone in the harvest shed with Loki by my side. Like Ramona, Loki was a dog that was always underfoot, and like Ramona, I often tripped over him, so surprised I was to find him by my side.

That day, I found myself compelled to plop down on the ground and begin to pet him from forehead to tail. I remember gazing into his eyes and thinking to myself, "I am going to try something. I am going to manifest the biggest orb of love I can and try to transmit it from my hand into Loki."

So I sat there in the shed for a good ten minutes, just petting him over & over, with each pet thinking to myself I love you so much, Loki, I love you so much. Finally the lunch bell rang a second time, with more urgency, and I picked myself up and headed to the house.

Interestingly enough, Loki was not at lunch that day, doing his normal graze between chairs for fallen food. I noticed this but didn't think much of it until hours later when I was back in the field.

I was crawling on my hands and knees, pulling weeds (oh the joy of organic farming) in a field at the top of the hill, when I had the distinct feeling that someone - or something - was watching me. Imagine my surprise when I looked up, and saw Loki just a foot away from my face. Due to my position, we were eye level. I looked at him, thinking What the heck are you doing, pup? And then he took a half step forward, maintaining eye contact, and licked me square on the nose, turning afterwards to run off into the distance.

I felt certain this was his acknowledgment of the exchange we'd had before lunch. Love passed back to me in the way he knew how.

I recall this story as I think of the deep love I felt for Loki and how it compares to what is growing for Ramona. I think there is a difference in the love you feel for a creature you are responsible for,  rather than just enjoying.

I look at Ramona and I think of my friend who said, "You are both rescued." I think that is true. In no disrespect to my wonderful life, career, community, Ramona truly gave me something outside of myself and my goals to be connected to: a reason to rush home after work, awake at the crack of dawn to get in a walk, abuse Google with my dog care questions, and build relationships with strangers who share this one thing in common with me: a canine companion.

I have seen those bumper stickers that say "Dog is Co-Pilot" and though they always made me chuckle, I never really got them until getting Ramona.

It's funny, because a lot of my twenties were about existing without a solid co-pilot. I remarked to many coupled friends how often I was alone, taking care of my mundane tasks and errands, looking at the passenger seat with a bit of longing and uncertainty. Towards the end of my twenties I began to see the gift in my independence, and actually found myself cherishing the moments after dropping off a friend when my passenger seat was empty again and I got to drive home with by myself. And in this space of less desperate longing for a companion, I found Ramona, and she found me.

The other day, I was transported back to the harvest shed with Loki, when I found myself petting Ramona one evening. She was curled up in her dog bed at the foot of my human bed, and I was lying at the very edge leaning over to stroke her with my right hand.

I looked at my hand, and it was like as if I could see golden rays of love and light and nurturing transmitting from my hand to her body. Or, to articulate it another way, I saw myself.

As I pet Ramona and poured my love into her, I realized I was pouring myself into her. Though all I could see was my hand petting her, we never really see ourselves fully, right? Even a mirror image is skewed. And in this moment, in just my hand, in just the action of loving this animal, I saw myself so clearly.

I feel so lucky to have found her.

What Was, What Will Be

I've always been the reflective type. Thus, honoring have the start of the new year with some heartfelt reflection on the year ending and the year to come has been my go-to New Year's tradition. Setting intentions for myself feels about as natural as taking a breath in, a breath out. It feels good. It feels like the right way to close one chapter and start another.

So, to my surprise, as 2013 came to a close and 2014 jumped to a start - with my 30th birthday just a few days into the New Year - I've felt no such inclination to step aside and dream of what's next.

Not that I'm not dreaming...

Perhaps starting a new decade requires more concentration or focus. Perhaps reflecting on the year past has felt a bit surprising and so I've wanted to linger there longer. Or, simply put, I have been living into my intentions and felt less bound to the actual ritual of stating them.

When I think about this past year I recognize that I put up a lot of walls - a sort of fortress around myself - to quite literally protect myself. 2012 had a lot of heartache and I went into 2013 a little weathered and exhausted. In my bubble - created through fear, heartbreak, disappointment, and needs I couldn't yet articulate - I ended up digging deeper into self-care and discovered someone I rather like: me.  It was a year of looking back to name the hurt and looking forward to say how it could be different. It was about self-love and forgiveness, which includes loving the bits that will always be broken. It was also a year that ended with serious career transition that put me face-to-face with my walls, fears, BS, excuses AND power, humor, sensitivity, competency, and passion.

It was a year about quoting from Dear Sugar; cooking adventurous and epic meals in my new kitchen; expressing love and accepting rejection; acting courageously in my career; finding support in surprising places; being less surprised when things don't always work out the way you expected but they still work; speaking my own truth; laughing through tears and crying through uncontrollable laughter at therapy; and driving home more times than I can count filled with overflowing gratitude for my community of wise, loving, wonderful people.

All that being the case, I know 2014 has to be about kicking down some of those self-protection walls. It can't all be about self-work: eventually you have to try out your tools in the field instead of just sharpening them over and over again in the shop. This year I looked within and came out on the other side liking who I am, scars freckles and all. This year I aim to be open to new experiences, new people, new challenges, and the possibility of new hurt, if it means new growth.

Seemed like a dog was a good way to start.

Hello, Ramona. 

hello: late july gratitude

Today was a gratitude-filled day.

I was grateful for the rain that came steady and strong this morning after I spent five hours yesterday afternoon in my garden. This is something a gardener longs for: rain after a day digging around in the soil. What a gift!

I was grateful for a morning naming ceremony for my friend's new daughter, Eliana. And I was just as grateful for the generous spread of lox, cream cheese, bagels, and kugel that awaited us after the ceremony. (I don't know what it says about me that these produced equal levels of gratitude...)

I was grateful for a peaceful afternoon of honest contemplation with my friend, Julia. When the rest of our women's group ("Our Circle") couldn't make it today, we came together anyway and had a most intimate and caring circle, just the two of us.

I am grateful for this very profound piece of writing, and for anyone who would be willing to discuss it with me.

I am grateful for burying hatchets and rebuilding bridges. Very grateful.

I am grateful for my weekly horoscope from Freewill Astrology, which I have read outloud to at least five different people, and plan to explore more in this blog at a later date. This provoked some good soul-searching and resonated with me on some soul-shaking level:

How close do you really want to be to the people you care about? I invite you to think about this with unsentimental candor. Do you prefer there to be some distance between you? Are you secretly glad there's a buffer zone that prevents you from being too profoundly engaged? I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It might be correct for who you are right now. I merely want to suggest that it's important for you to know the exact nature of your need for intimacy. If you find that you actually do want to be closer, spend the next four weeks making that happen. Ask your precious allies to collaborate with you in going deeper.

Finally: I am not so much grateful for this as I am touched by it, but how wonderful is it to see a picture of your beloved nephew (on his 2nd birthday) and flash back to a dear moment in your own childhood?

1987........................................................2013

Pretty dang sweet.

Super grateful for the many reminders of a nourishing and ever-evolving life.

hello: pride

Happy Pride y'all!

As Pride 2013 comes to a close I find myself, unsurprisingly perhaps, reflecting on what "pride" means to me.

Though I don't often turn to wikipedia as my go-to research tool, I thought a more crowd-sourced definition on pride might be a nice start. This was an interesting little tidbit:

With a positive connotation, pride refers to a satisfied sense of attachment toward one's own or another's choices and actions, or toward a whole group of people, and is a product of praise, independent self-reflection, or a fulfilled feeling of belonging.

Feeling of belonging, eh? To be honest, it's never been easy until recently to talk about my queerness, so for me most of my past pride celebrations have been more about a feeling of not belonging, a feeling of otherness and outsider status. Did dating men make me a traitor to the community? Did deeply identifying as queer rather than gay/lesbian/dyke make me less than? Past prides I've felt like I was looking in on a world that wasn't quite mine.

This year I decided to just show up and see how it felt. After all, I've been lucky enough to have loved a lot of wonderful people in my life: men & women. I've had my heart broken by people from all across the gender spectrum (lucky me). I've advocated for the rights of LGBTQ people for much of my adult life and spoken up when it felt like the right, even if not easy, thing to do. I've been schooled by people who don't understand my brand of queerness and I've schooled people who think they get to decide what to call me. It's an evolving identity and so when I showed up this year for pride that is what I was proud of: my long-time-coming-(still-developing)-okayness-with-myself.

Pride for me is self-respect and self-acceptance, no matter who you find yourself becoming.

What does "pride" mean to you? What are you proud of?

hello: happy

For the first time in a long time I feel really happy.

Not like a fleeting happiness, or a reaction-to-something-good happiness, but rather a core-level contentedness and well-being. The sort of happy that makes you call everyone you love and leave rambling, giggling messages, interrupting yourself midway through one message to comment on the amazing sunset out the window, which gets interrupted by you breaking out in a huge smile that lasts awhile until you remember that the person on other end of the phone can't hear you smile, and you hang up giggling.

I think I kind of had my very own corn moment.

This bubbling up feeling that started this morning and by evening erupted into full on things are alright it's great to be alive!! 

A happiness that felt like it had form and body - that felt like I could hold it, and taste it, and smell it, and delight in it with all my senses. It really was a whole body and spirit takeover - pushing out (at least for now) the cobwebs and replacing with them....space. Space that made me laugh and smile and shout out how good I felt!

That's what I wanted and needed: space. Space to be reflective. Space to be encouraged. Space to be confident in myself and my dreams. Space to name those dreams and be unafraid.

It's very simple really. Or, at least, if I really think about it, I have a feeling I know where the first shake came from, where the bubbling began.

This morning I had a rather spontaneous coffee with a coworker who has been at my organization for a few decades and just put in his resignation. I don't know him very well, but I wanted to make sure I built a bridge between us before he left because I want to know him and be a connection. I invited him for coffee saying I wanted to hear about his new job, but instead quite unexpectedly he showed me much more: he showed me who he really is. He talked candidly about his frustrations with our current employer, his dreams, and what he's learned in the three decades he has been in the workforce. He talked about himself openly and honestly. He shared without censorship. And then he asked if I was happy in my job or if I too felt a pull elsewhere.

He invited my truth, and I gave it without questioning.

To which he told me that he sees me as someone committed to advocacy: someone who needs to be working for something they deeply believe in. He told me to forgive him if he was wrong, but if my current job isn't the place that I can fight for something I believe in, as he thinks I need to in order to be happy, I should look for a new opportunity where I can do this sort of work.

I guess it stunned me a little. It stunned me to have someone I barely know see me so clearly. To nail it. To know who I am at my core.

That being said, hearing him interpret who I am was like a big duh.  I mean just yesterday I saw this quote on my fridge within a postcard about how to build community: "Nobody is silent, but not everybody is heard. Work to change this." And I thought to myself: I think maybe that's my life's work in a nutshell.

I guess the thing is, for better or worse, I needed someone else to say practically the same thing to me in order to really hear it. I needed someone else to say it to erase the maybe. And who it was was important too: I listened more closely when I realized someone unexpected really saw me. It made me think that who I am is clear to everyone but me. I need to have confidence in what I have to offer and what I want to build.

What do you know? When I felt seen and heard, the whole world looked different. More approachable, welcoming.

love thy self

I realized yesterday that it has been a lot easier to be angry at the woman who "wasn't ready" to date - me or anyone - than to ask myself the question, "Am I even ready to date someone?"

It's amazing how the desire for something to work can blind us to our most basic self truths - that perhaps, as much as on some levels we'd like to be in a place where something can work, we really just aren't there yet.

I have been trying to transition from briefly - but intensely - dating AW to being her friend, and in the process have discovered some rather ugly sides of myself. There is a desperation, a longing, a forceful "be with me! be with me! be with me!" that is utterly unsexy.

And I think it's present in me because I haven't honestly given myself a shot at cultivating the one relationship I need to cultivate before any of that can work out: the one with myself. AW said to me that as cliche as it sounds, we can't attract love in our life until we have it for ourself.

It's funny, of course I've heard that sentiment expressed numerous times over the course of my life, but something about hearing it at that moment, from this person, really nailed me to the spot. Maybe it's that other truth of: no matter how many times others give wise or good advice to you, until you have the capacity to find that wisdom inside yourself, the good advice of others will fall on deaf ears. So, simply put, I finally heard that statement for what it is, and how true it is.

Like, what specifically is it I think I need or am going to get from a romantic partnership that I can't get from myself? When I came home last night after dropping AW off at her place, I sat with that question for a very long time. Much of what I think I want from a partnership comes down to very basic companionship and affirmation of self. Yikes. I think this blog project is deeply connected to this idea of self-love and befriending myself, but it's super easy to go through the day and forget the many subtle ways we are acting in a way that is not self-loving.

I think I am at this crossroads point in my life - I've been feeling it for many months now but have been avoiding facing it - and what the crossroads is begging of me is to be extremely intentional about self-care and self-love.

So why not list that out (as I so love to do)?

The things I think I want from a relationship AND how I will get them from myself:

An activity partner....................I can create more enjoyment from doing fun activities by myself. Not just errands, but movies, walks in the park, a special visit to a museum, etc.

Someone to cook dinner for.............I will cook a delicious dinner for myself as often as possible and eat it sitting down at my table.

Someone to do small, kind gestures for...............I will buy myself flowers, create silly collages just for me, and find other tangible ways to be caring towards myself.

Backrubs...............thank goodness I recently discovered the best massage therapist ever.

Someone to try new things with...........I can continue taking classes and having experiences that are new to me, either by myself or with a friend.

A spiritual partner.............I can continue to explore my spirituality through going to church, practicing meditation, and reading books. Sitting with myself on this part of the journey is key.

Someone who is very protective of my feelings, my journey, my process & vice versa......well obviously, the whole point is it's time to do this for myself.

There is more, but that's a reasonable start.....time to travel alone, but with some true loving kindess towards myself. I don't want to be "okay" at being alone, I want to enjoy my own company. I don't know how I've gotten so far from that part of myself. Yesterday was a bit of a wake-up call. Annoying. Necessary.

hello: the things I like

I was so inspired by that adorable video I posted about earlier this week, that I have found myself thinking - in the midst of some very annoying debbie-downer-esque moping - what are the things I like? What are the small to grand things that I use to shake off my fear and march boldly into my life?

Before I get into this project, here are a few things:

1) This morning I listened to the New Year's Eve This American Life episode (better late than never) about self-improvement. The story about Daryl Watson really captured me. He tells the story of a time in his life when he felt very lost and without direction (feels familiar) and how he went about trying to find it. This story resonated with me for a few reasons:

• He said he just wanted to figure out his "Mission Statement." Hmmm, that seems like what I am trying to do every day of my life these days. (Dramatic much?)
• What ended up bringing him peace was not 'figuring it out,' but rather not focusing so much on the ultimate answer or destination. Again, this sounds pretty familiar and a message I have been receiving in various forms for the majority of my twenties.

2) I think this blog has become way too serious. I got to my 100th entry and it was a moping mess about hurt and loss and pain. While I definitely am in the midst of some serious questions (see above), I also aim to reclaim this space as a bit more positive and hopeful. I feel so far away from that part of myself, but I know it's not lost and gone forever.

On that note:

Things I Like (in no particular order but specific to this particular moment in time):

-A fresh onion bagel, smeared with cold cream cheese, topped with lox, red onions, and capers, accompanied by a glass of orange juice. (Tonight's breakfast AND post-shoveling snack.)

-On-going inside jokes between close friends that may involve sending goofy things in the mail to each other.

-Having an entire drawer dedicated to crafting.

-Going a bit overboard on a work-related craft project using said craft drawer, an entire roll of gold duct tape, jewels, and many, many pom-poms.

-Prematurely dreaming of spring and my garden.

-Making a path through freshly fallen snow.

-Also: not being so scared of cold snow going down my pants -- making a snow angel in the middle of my backyard.

-Discovering that the snowblower is broken and being forced to shovel, which takes thirty extra minutes but also invites a peace and quiet not present in doing it quickly (and loudly) with the snowblower.

-Any physical task such as shoveling that reminds me of the hard, satisfying work of farming.

-NPR Music's Tiny Desk Concert Series, and right now especially this one. 

-Ending the evening with a list of things I like and a handwritten letter to one of my BFFs.

Off to do the latter now...

Hello: Little Joys

Putting your needs and intentions out into the universe can be a powerful thing.

I arrived home today to find two treasures in my mailbox.

The invitation to be a special part of a very special friend's big day:

A letter from a dear friend rambling about what makes the world go round:

Oh, and did I mention, some freshly baked cookies awaited me at my desk this afternoon:

I also have a working kitchen sink! And a beautiful space developing before my eyes:

And two friends asked me how my roots and branches are.

Taking root. Stretching.

Hello: Living Without Tragedy

A strange couple of words have been echoing through my head this week: "Okay-dokey."

These are not words that I use myself, nor words that many people in my circle find themselves exclaiming.

But this week they are the words the husband of a coworker of mine uttered when he learned the cancer in his body has metastasized to his brain and that he should start hospice care. "Okay-dokey" he said to the doctor delivering the news. "Okay-dokey" he said to the certainty his days are numbered.

I've thought about him often this week - and the matter-o-fact way he is facing his mortality - and I've thought about his wife (my coworker) who is likely walking down a path in her marriage that she never thought to plan for. I also thought how this woman just lost her mom, also to a freak illness that came out of nowhere and wiped away her life in the blink of an eye.

Likely, she will have lost both her Mom and her husband before Thanksgiving, just a few weeks apart from each other. She will be forced to sit down to a feast and reflect on what she is grateful for, two noticeably empty chairs at the table, death hanging in the air.

The unfairness of it all just takes your breath away.

Her tragedy has me thinking about the ways personal tragedies inspire us or motivate us in ways that "normal" life often doesn't.

When someone passes away, their family and friends (usually) mourn their loss and speak to how important and wonderful the deceased person was. This is what a eulogy is - a moment to reflect, celebrate, honor, and love the life that is now gone.

And when someone dies too young or in a freak accident, you read in the paper how kind or generous they were, what a good friend and sibling they were, how they had so much potential.

When people are diagnosed with an incurable disease or have a near-death experience, you hear about "bucket lists," or the ways they will change for the better, the things they are now inspired to do. People who've gone through something like this are often more open to those in their life about how much they cherish and love them.

I don't think it should take tragedy for us to be honest with those in our lives, to express our deep love and gratitude for our relationships, and to be the person we want to be.

Thus I am spending some time thinking about living without tragedy, but still living the life we want and still being the best friend/sister/coworker/girlfriend/daughter/etc we can be.

Tonight I was driving to a friend's house for our Sunday night newish tradition of watching The Walking Dead, eating popcorn, and making fun of the bad writing and each other.

As I was driving, I got this overwhelming feeling of gratitude. Suddenly the day washed over me: sleeping in, an hour at the gym, raking up the blanket of leaves in my yard, going to the Co-op, watching an episode of Sherlock, baking some scones, making lunch for the week, and now heading to a friend's house. Honestly, pretty mundane. But as I drove the half mile to his home I was grateful for so much: living in a place where I have friends in my "hood" and can drive over on a Sunday night just to hang for an hour; having a yard to care for and beautiful leaves to rake into colorful piles; having a kitchen to make food in; having a great grocery store a mile away; having the time to do a lot of little nothing tasks that actually make me quite happy.

It reminded me of these moments I experienced while portaging in the Boundary Waters, when I would have the very heavy canoe on my shoulders and I would just start to think I couldn't go any further, when suddenly the canoe would almost feel weightless. It was always sudden and brief, but having just that tiny moment of relief made me push on a few more steps. It made me realize it was possible to have that moment of clarity and comfort during a very difficult time.

I was brought back to this moment tonight as I drove to my friend's and felt myself fill with gratitude, out of the blue. It was like the world had been pushing on me all week, and suddenly something opened up to remind me the little ways I have nothing weighing on me, the many ways I am blessed.

To live without tragedy and still be able to be grateful for the leaves you are raking, the scones you are burning in the oven, the coleslaw you are making up as you go, the day mostly spent alone until you find yourself laughing next to a friend...this is when I feel truly lucky. To live without tragedy and still be able to see the gift of my not-so-extraordinary life.

Reflections: On Being the Person We Want to Be (Part 2 of 2)

So a few weeks ago I started reflecting on those rare and beautiful moments we are exactly who we want to be. You can read that ramble here (if that sounds appealing on any level).

For two months I have been thinking about this question as I have had a number of experiences that seem to be so literally "making me." (For the record, I am putting quotation marks around my own quote. Awkward.) It's not exactly that I'm changing, but rather that I'm becoming more comfortable and sure of who I am. By seeing myself more clearly it feels like those around me are seeing me for the first time. I guess these are the positive impacts of what they call "self-confidence." No need to wax poetics, basically I'm just having experiences that are showing me what I value and what is worth pushing beyond my comfort-zone for.

One of these moments started out as a blog entry in late July called: "Hello: The Little Voice Within," but that post turned into me staring at a blank screen for quite some time feeling sheepish about devoting so much space to what felt like patting myself on the back, and then abandoning the entry altogether.

I'm over that now.

The "incident" (as I say with a playful smirk) has sunk in more, shifted, pulled me in new directions and I possibly have even more to reflect on here, two months from that little voice speaking up.

Essentially here's what went down: something at work was bothering me. Something big. Something about our mission, our leadership, our direction as an organization. Interestingly enough it was about my organization not speaking out against what I (and many) see as an injustice, and wondering what the meant about "who we are." (From here forth note that all quotations used here are questions I was or continue to ask myself, so think of it as my little voice within blurting out a statement.)

So, despite my discomfort, I spoke up in an all-staff (meaning: 200+) meeting and asked a question about why we, as an organization, weren't being leaders in the community and speaking out against hate.

I learned something valuable about myself: though I was the spotlight operator in middle school theater, I am not so keen on being in front of the spotlight myself...unless (and here's the kicker) I deem the importance of the thing that will thrust me into the spotlight as greater than my own comfort.

This was an instance where the importance of the issue felt more important than me. It felt bigger than me. So I swallowed my fear and asked the question. The moment itself was incredible. As I was talking, I felt the auditorium around me grow more quiet. I now understand the saying "you could hear a pin drop." Though my heart was pounding and I felt anything but sure of myself, friends would later tell me that my statement was calm, thoughtful, succinct, and very articulate. (To be fair, I had practiced this in the bathroom mirror a dozen times that morning.) And when I was done speaking, an amazing thing happened: a number of people applauded.

The answer given to my question was less than satisfactory, and the room felt it. And it was also the last question before time ran out and we were "dismissed" back to our desks. So the energy in the room was not positive, and every person there felt it. When the meeting adjourned, I was mobbed by colleagues - some I knew, some I didn't. They thanked me, exclaimed their own feelings, expressed outrage or hurt at the answers from leaders, patted me on the back, and overall cheered what I had done.

All day people were calling me to talk about the moment, emailing me their gratitude, and stopping me in the hallway to chat. I felt the support of my colleagues for doing the right thing even if it wasn't the easy thing.

Later that week, someone I've always been a bit intimidated by in the organization, told me I was a "leader," and that he knew it the minute he saw me "speak truth to power."

Those words, and many others, have been rattling in my brain since that moment I spoke up. And the moment in that meeting led to other conversations, meetings among colleagues, requests of senior leaders, action, and community gatherings. It has been a moment that stirred up some shit, but perhaps it's better to say: lit a fire for many people. And I almost can't believe that I was the one to strike the first match.

Am I surprised it happened? I think part of what I have been reflecting on is the fact that I put myself out there in a way that initially felt really surprising, but ultimately made me feel more like myself that I ever have.

Truth be told, I am still processing all of this, especially since it's still going on in many ways. Thus, it's hard to draw hard conclusions.

What I do know is that I like being called a leader. I like leading and being one of the "little people." My aspiration is not to be sitting at the top of the mountain looking down at my kingdom, but rather to be amongst the people and a part of the action and movement below. I like being the voice for something important, and I like using my voice.

In the split second after I finished my question and caught my breath, before the applause from colleagues started and I felt the affirmation of a community, a thought went through my head: this is me. This is the me I want to be.

It was like sudden sight after a lifetime of blindness: oh, so this is the mysterious "me." Hello, self. 

It wasn't easy. It might have burned bridges while simultaneously creating others. And the after-shocks of the action have been challenging as I've had to defend myself and my original statement. Work has been a little more exhausting than usual.

Another colleague told me she has watched as other original supporters/allies have backed down or crumbled under the bullying pressure of leadership. But that I have stood my ground in a way she herself couldn't. I have remained consistent in my message and my stance, despite being bullied and criticized myself. She said she was proud of me.

And you know what? I am proud of me too.

In the midst of all this, my eighth grade English teacher recently re-shared this piece she wrote a few years back. It's about the very influential and ground-breaking novel To Kill a Mockingbird.

Mrs. Baker writes: "What To Kill a Mockingbird teaches us is that when a single individual cares enough to protest injustice, to fight against oppression, that the world does, in fact, undergo a change.   For when Atticus battles to save Tom Robinson, even though he loses the case, even though people do not start marching in the streets in protest, readers recognize that there have been small, yet significant changes in that town."

I read that and realized why this reflection was finding me at this particular moment in time. While I would encourage all of you to laugh uproariously if I dared compare myself to Atticus, I will say I absolutely agree that this action has made me aware of what a single person can do when they protest an injustice. I've seen the impact of my speaking up, and it gives me hope for what "speaking truth to power" can do in a community.

But, apparently, there was another reason Mrs. Baker's article reached me right here, right now: I'm a part of it, literally. When Mrs. Baker wrote this a few years ago, she reached out to me to ask how I had been impacted by the book. So caught up in my new-found voice, I'd almost forgotten the insights of past-me. Mrs. Baker writes:

"I heard from Sara, who read the book with me an eighth grader and is now in her 20s.  She wrote,
When Scout speaks, she speaks directly to her reader and invites us into her world.  Like her own journey to understand the world through walking in another’s shoes, Harper Lee steps us into Scout’s, takes us on her own journey of self-discovery and reminds us what it is to be human.
The last I heard, Sara was working as an organic farmer, living out her own ideals."

In the last few months I have been asking myself, reminding myself, what it means to be the person we strive to be; our ideal self. As I read my own words and the blessing from my beloved teacher, identifying me as someone who lives their ideals, I realized even if our life changes in ways that at times makes it feel unrecognizable, even if we fear what or who we've left behind, we will always find a way back to the path that represents the world and life we value. We always have the chance to be the person we want to be.

Since I spoke up at work, I have dusted off the little journal that holds my dreams and ideals, the nonprofit-business plan I started a number of years ago. And I have taken out my pen and started to work on it once again, buoyed by how much of my dream has remained the same, while also marveling at how much my knowledge and experience has grown and deepended as I've spoken up and, in doing so, found the world I want. 

Robe Competition

I have a problem.

I found another robe I like.

also not an ugly robe

My symbolic gesture has turned into an actual devotion to robes.

Uh-oh. 

Hello: Permission to Be

I had a very happy weekend where I was able to put everything away (symbolically) and remember/rediscover what's really important.

Here are some thoughts I am going to try to keep with me through this summer, through the stresses of work, through the ups & downs of friendships and relationships, through this crazy thing called life:

I can be grateful without needing to fill in the "why" or "what" I am grateful for. I can just say: "I am grateful."

I can try new things, even if they scare me. Fear is not stronger than courage.

My house is work in progress and there is no pressure to get it all done right this moment.

Same goes for the garden. (Peace be with you bunny rabbits.)

Deep breathing has the power to heal. Stepping away from stress, even for a moment, can cleanse. Do these things often.

Fear of pain or difficulty is no reason to not push myself further.

When feeling uninspired, go outside and run or scream or move or laugh or dance until you fall down exhausted. Repeat.

I am exactly where I need to be.

I am enough.

I was many things. I am many things. I will be many things in the course of my life.

hello: guess who!

I have done so many notable things in the last few weeks, it's truly hard to know where to start.

I bought my first pair of hybrid spandex-"booty shorts" so that when I bike in a dress and flash people, it's just a touch less inappropriate. (I am questioning if this was the right place to start this list of "notables.")

I also discovered what is my new favorite salad recipe and have been telling everyone I know about this delicious creation. (Second time I've mentioned it in this blog, in fact.) The dressing alone is worth making again and again and putting on anything and everything. If my housemate hadn't been sitting nearby, I would have been tempted attempted to drink it like a savory smoothie.

My garden is finally starting to take off and I am finally starting to let go of the fact that a large portion of it continues to be bunny food. Let's be real: for me it's not as much about the harvest as it is about the experience of growing things. This week's notable crop: raspberries. (Also: bunnies don't give a sh** about raspberries.)

I went to a department store where I had what some might consider an "intimate moment" with Deb in "Intimate Apparel." I had been wearing the wrong bra size!! Now my girls are much more comfortable in the correct bra size and I have "getting felt up by a senior citizen" crossed off my bucket list.

Last week I stood very close to Amy Sedaris at an event and realized she is my spirit animal and her humor is perfect. I just love people who see the world through a very quirky, very honest lens. I am trying to figure out if snorting-laughter at a work event - where I'm technically "working" - is unprofessional. Oh well.

I continue to slowly read Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. Slowly because it's so good I want to make it last. Slowly because it's the perfect book about summer to read on a very hot summer night, on my front porch swing with a glass of lemonade, sweating bullets because it's 95 degrees at 8pm. If that sounds unpleasant, you misunderstood me. Reading it like this actually has added - or transported me to - the world of the book. The introduction, written by the author himself, in the "grand master edition" is one of the most beautiful pieces of honest reflection I have ever read. An excerpt:

What you have here in this book then is a gathering of dandelions from all those years. The wine metaphor which appears again and again in these pages is wonderfully apt. I was gathering images all of my life, storing them away, and forgetting them. Somehow I had to send myself back, with words as catalysts, to open the memories out and see what they had to offer.

So from the age of twenty-four to thirty-six hardly a day passed when I didn't stroll myself across a recollection of my grandparents' northern Illinois grass, hoping to come across some old half-burnt firecracker, a rusted toy, or a fragment of a letter written to myself in some young year hoping to contact the older person I became to remind him of his past, his life, his people, his joys, and his drenching sorrows.

I mean, come on now. Beautiful. 

Moving on from writing-so-beautiful-it-makes-me-come-alive, here's something mundane: I just made my first ever jello salad for an Independence Day party. Red-white-and-blue(berry) to be specific.

Speaking of Independence Day, I also made good on one of my promises to myself and, not to under emphasize this moment, one of the motivations behind this blog. I got a very new, very cute, very versatile, mint-green.....

Hello ugly robe. Independence day symbolic activities are my favorite!

hello: I'm kind of a big deal

What a strange and wonderful day this was!

Perhaps it's been clear from the blog - or perhaps some of my readers (3 and counting...) are good at reading between the lines, but yes, I've been feeling a bit blue lately.

But maybe it's more accurate to say: I've been feeling very alone. Alone in that ultimate way - like even if I'm surrounded by people, when it comes down to it I'm really, deeply, utterly alone. Born alone, die alone. That sort of debbie downer thinking. It's been coursing through my body lately, impacting every step I take. I just haven't been able to shake the feeling. Even after good days and moments of connection, I still have been coming home to wallow in my solitude. As often happens when I feel this way, I have been pushing away those I love rather than asking for their support. Trying to prove my loneliness is justified or some nonsense like that...

And then - poof! The universe, as it's been known to do, gave me the greatest shake of all.

It actually began a few months ago when a colleague of mine, I'll call him Bob cause that's his name, and I were chatting. Bob, if I'm to be honest, is one of my favorite people at work. He is a reporter, has a blog on our organization website, and I read it religiously. I start my morning with his first column of the day and usually cry at my desk reading some story he has covered. I like that he's a pretend-curmudgeon that deep down wants to believe the world, and the people in it, are good. I relate to his jaded hope...

But anyway, he and I were talking this one day a few months back. Actually, it was in the midst of my little storm cloud hoovering over me, and instead of saying "I'm well" when he asked "How are you doing?" I said: "Pretty shitty." He seemed to like my no bullshit attitude, and asked me to sit down.

We got to talking about life, mental health, work stresses...and then I happened to mention a time in my life I had actually gone on adventures, a time I had been a farmer/farmed. And he perked right up and said, "Now that's a story I'd like to hear!" And then he told me - without knowing if I can write or not - to write the story, cause he'd sure like to read it.

That was two months ago. About a day after the conversation the last line of the story came to me, which has never happened to me before, and I scribbled it down on a scrap of paper. And then I proceeded to stare at that line for two months.

Until this past week when I was talking to my college BFF Adam on the phone and bemoaning my writer's block of late and he simply said, "What writer's block? It's gone. I banish it." We hung up and I spent an hour writing my story. I finished it the next morning on the bus in to work. I wrote and wrote and ended up at the last line I had written two months prior. It still felt like the right way to end the story, which seemed like a miracle in itself.

And then I shared the draft with - of all people - my middle school English teacher. She's great. She gave me good feedback which simultaneously brought me back to 8th grade and brought me forward in my adult writing.

And then I sent the story to Bob last night with a disclaimer and a thanks. Thanks, I said, for asking me to tell my story, for just asking. Thanks, I said, for letting me be honest. This, I said, is one story of many, but I hope it gets at the essence of my experience. Thanks, I told him, for helping me find the words to capture the essential part of this time in my life.

And he wrote back and said: "I'm posting this on my blog tomorrow."

Immediately I had a little flurry of butterflies in my stomach. I also thought, "Shit, I kind of overshared in that piece."

But then I held my breath and waited for it to hit the world-wide-web. On my favorite blog nonetheless! Holy shit!

And when it did, wow, did I ever get the surprise of my life. The feedback came pouring in - texts, emails, calls, facebook accolades. And then, it was mentioned on the radio by one of my favorite hosts. (To be fair, I work at a radio station and it wasn't so out of the blue, but still.) I didn't hear it myself, but plenty of friends did, and they made sure to tell me.

So here's the lesson: I am not alone. In the midst of my deepest self-pity and self-loathing, I decided to be honest about some part of my life story, to be completely vulnerable and real, and people from all over - some I know and some I don't - responded.

And no matter what it is they said specifically, what I was hearing generally is: you are not alone. 

My daily meditation for today is called "Be honest with yourself." And it says: "The way to joy, the way to the heart is tender, soft, gentle, and honest."

How true that is. Being vulnerable and honest opens us up not only to ourselves, but to all the people out there who love and applaud and cherish us, and who we love and applaud and cherish as well. 

I need to send Bob a thank you note. On it I will write very simply: The world can feel noisy and isolating. Thank you for helping me feel heard. 

hello: learning to ride the wave

This week I've been without my trusty map. You know the one: it's been with you forever, you can reference it in your most lost moments, it always seems to be in your back pocket even when you think your back pocket is empty. (Hint: this is a metaphor.)

This week it wasn't there for me. Hard as I looked, I couldn't find it.

I'd been hit by a huge wave, a crushing mass, that came out of nowhere - and inside that wave was all of my self-doubt, the insecurities that haunt me, the anxieties that keep me up at night. Suddenly my internal compass was thrown off, but I couldn't say why. Only the week before I was as sure of myself as ever, and now I found myself at the bottom of all the bits and pieces that add up to who I am. And the bottom of that pile felt messy, suffocating.

When this happens to us, what do we do? We seek, in what feels like the darkest dark, some wisdom on how to find our way again. We seek those things that make our map.

My first map was my freewill astrology horoscope waiting for me in my inbox Tuesday

CAPRICORN: "I couldn't wait for success," said rich and

famous comedian Jonathan Winters, "so I went ahead without it." I love

that approach, and I suggest you try it out. Is there any area of your life

that is held captive by an image of perfection? Consider the possibility

that shiny concepts of victory and progress might be distracting you from

doing the work that will bring you meaning and fulfillment. If you're too

busy dreaming of someday attaining the ideal mate, weight, job, pleasure,

and community, you may miss out on the imperfect but amazing

opportunities that are available right now.

 Ahh yes, read my mind yet again freewill astrology.

This has been part of the roadblock: the dreaded impatience. What is available to me now and does it match what I wish were available to me now? I've been driving myself crazy this week noticing the literal and metaphorical cracks in the walls all around me: literally in the disarray of my house, metaphorically in the disarray of the close relationships in my life.

Freewill tells me to do the work rather than be distracted by the idea of perfection. I was starting to make an attempt when I got distracted by another map...

In a murderous time
   the heart breaks and breaks
      and lives by breaking.
It is necessary to go
   through dark and deeper dark
      and not to turn.

-Stanley Kunitz

Initially, I did not think this was was the right map, because I recognized this map and it always shows up when I am already lost, it shows up and tempts me to stay lost. It affirms my heartache. It's a companion to grief.

Yet, it also urges me not to turn away.  Both freewill and Kunitz seemed to want me to turn into the dark in order to find my way out of the dark.

This is the struggle I often face when my map is lost: Do I stay put and hope I will find my way out, or do I explore the lost places in order to find my way more fully, both now and long into the future?

I see the things that are bringing me down, they are typical, they are small and big: the world is messed up, my world is messed up; I love what doesn't love me, I will never find the right love, I am the only one alone; my work is not meaningful, my work shouldn't need to mean everything; my house is not perfect, I don't have the ability to make my house perfect, why do I need my house to be perfect; everyone is moving on but me, why can't I be satisfied with stillness, why can't I be satisfied with how things are...

This week my mind has been haunted by all of this.

And then I found a third map - or it found me? I picked up a book, dusty with neglect, and I turned it to a page and the page said to me:

Learn to ride the waves of energy in  your life. Learn to wait for the right time to take action.  Learn to wait until your senses, your emotions, your body, and the universe give you the signal you need.  Yes, you have a list of things you want to do.  But as soon as you have made that list, visualized what you want, you've already begun a powerful force. You've already begun to engage the universe in helping bring you what you want.  There are moments that are more perfect than others to initiate action, to make that phone call, to finish that task. Untimely action will not get the job done any sooner. It will simply waste your energy and send you back to sea, waiting for the right wave. Focus on your goal, muster all your forces, and head out to sea.  Then wait patiently for the right time, for the right energy, for the right wave.

Three maps, are they right? Are they leading me when I need to go?

A breakdown:

Forego perfection for the imperfect but amazing life in front of me.

Venture further inside the heartache (by first admitting I still have some) in order to ever get through the heartache.

Trust that the right wave will come to me when I am ready for it and it is ready for me.

A further breakdown:

Acceptance. Honesty. Hard work. Patience. 

hello: the places that scare us

I blame the blog.

I blame the blog for making me go out on limbs, explore foreign territories, swim unknown waters, and speak in all manner of cliches about the risks I am taking.

I happily blame the blog.

Tonight was a tough night for me: a night that tested my boundaries and pushed me into less-comfortable places. And that's good, that's what I should be doing right now.

See, I joined a softball team.

This is something I've been wanting to do for a very long time, but haven't had the kick in the butt I've needed. Cause I'm not very good, not very competitive, and haven't been motivated to find a team to nurture my growth.  Weirdly enough, the push to do it was beyond random. I was visiting my childhood home last month and saw my brother's ex-girlfriend, JoJo, who told me that her "very nice" cousin lives in my current town. She gave me his name and said I should look him up.

And a few weeks later, I saw that he happened to comment on a facebook post of a friend of mine mere moments after I commented. (Insert eyeroll at the world we live in.)

I realized we share some connections and took the serendipitous moment to reach out to him. And after a few friendly messages were passed back and forth he said, "You want to join my softball team?"

Pretty bold move, being he'd never met me, sized me up, or judged my athletic ability.

now if this doesn't allude to a future in athletics, I don't know what does

I said to him: "I really doubt I would be adding much value to your team. Yes, I have previous experience, but I'm not confident it qualifies me for any awards. Although, I am fun, enthusiastic and a good-natured heckler/good cheerleader. Which is something!"

To which he said, "You're on the team!"

So I went tonight, and showed-off my athletic abilities "athletic abilities" to a bunch of strangers.

And quickly realized I am the worst by a long-shot. A pretty crooked, inconsistent throw; a depth-perception issue of monstrous proportions; a frantic run/walk; and a wild-crazy-batting swing. Added value!

On one hand, it's hard being the worst (and knowing it). It brings out insecurities: maybe they regret asking me to join? Maybe I will bring down the team? It's hard to have fun when crippled by anxiety that you are dragging down a group of skilled athletes, especially ones that weren't entirely honest about their skill-level.

On the other hand, being the worst gives us the most room to grow. Learning how to have fun doing things that are challenging, truly enjoying the parts of ourselves that need improvement, is a worthy task. I believe in growing by leaps and bounds, especially in the places that scare us.

goodbye ugly robe

This is my ugly robe. Or rather, this was my ugly robe.

Take a good look:

-It's made to be a look-at-me-I'm-practically-a-towel style of robe. Can you even call that fabric?

-It's a rather unpleasant shade of baby blue.

-It has two gigantic pockets, two gigantic chicken-wing sleeves, and is floor length.

-It has a hood.

-Oh, and the zipper only worked for about a week and then broke, after which is just hung on slightly above my belly button keeping the robe "closed" but only in the most lenient definition of the word "closed."

It was a damn ugly robe.

But as ugly as it was, it was also the inspiration for this online project. You see, the ugly robe came up in conversation with the woman I like to think of as my personal lighthouse in the dark--my beacon when all hope is lost. My life coach of sorts. Ok, my therapist who I pay to listen to me talk and occassionally give me really sage life advice. (If I can't be honest now, at the beginning, how will I ever?)

I told S about my ugly robe. I told her about it in this manner:

[resigned voice] "Well, it's ugly robe season again, so I guess there's that to look forward to."

I think she choked on her herbal tea. While rolling her eyes.

And then she told me something that really hit me at my core, in that part of myself that hears the truth when it most needs to, that internal compass that has no tolerance for bullshit.

She told me--I don't even need to paraphrase here because she was rather succinct--"Well, if you hate it so much, then get rid of it. "

This woman is worth every penny.

Here's the thing, you should probably know before you go on any further, that this project is coming from a place of rather determined intention. It's going to be cheesy at times, and cliche, and probably induce some eye-rolling and uncomfortable laughter (from you and me). Because, honestly, an ugly robe is at the heart of this project, so you know I'm reading into things a little too much. And that I will embrace and continue that trend throughout this process, as I have a rather strong dedication towards "honoring from whence we came."

But S hit on something really true that day. She reminded me that I can't just sit around and wait for my life to happen to me; I need to take an active role in creating the life I want to live. The robe was just a small piece of a larger struggle I was having internally--and that was ripping into my external world--to make ch-ch-changes that I'd deemed necessary long ago, but not found the strength or motivation to make. Simple as that. S hit the nail on the head: quit wallowing and playing the part of victim, throw out your damn ugly robe and beyond that throw out all the other damn ugly robes you are holding onto as well, be they literal or figurative.

The lady really got me thinking. So on not-quite-the-eve (anymore) of the New Year, but close enough to be able to easily visualize myself taking a first step into something unknown but important, I decided to make good on the promises I've made to myself over the years. One of them was writing more, hence putting these thoughts down here. There are plenty more though, and what this goodbye ugly robe project is really about is remembering the life I want to build for just myself--that of course includes other people-- but doesn't start from the assumption that someone else is going to take control of my happiness or dreams or successes or failures. That it is up to me to take the first step forward, even if I stumble a little bit, and see what my life can grow into.

See: cheese has been served already.

Oh, and by the way, there is going to be a new robe. I'm not going to pretend it's sexy-even though the photo would like to imply it is - but it's cozy looking, has a little bit of a ruffled edge around the collar, is a cute flannel pattern, and overall is so much more me. Which is the point. And as S and I discussed, by replacing the zipper with a tie closure, I am asserting the fact that 1) I am not a middle-aged woman with saggy breasts (thank you very much) and 2) I am not resigned to a life in an ugly robe. Read into that if you want to, you probably should.