Impermanence, Commitment and Contradiction

In most peoples’ lives, routine is very important.  There’s the morning routine.  The evening routine.  The shower routine.  The workout routine.  The food routine.  The sunday routine.  The holiday routine.  Etc, etc, etc.  We value routine, respect it and expect it.  I would venture to say we even need it.  Life can be quite overwhelming.  Routine grounds us in what is familiar.  What we are comfortable with.  

I like routine.  My yoga practice, friends, diet, job.  I think routines can provide a vehicle for personal growth and achieving goals.  But something about it scares me.  Really just terrifies me.  For a good portion of my life I’ve let routines hold me back, shape who I am, and control what I was able to do.  Breaking free of my old habits and routines is the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.  And I’m deadly afraid of going back to that.  

Routine can become stagnation, missed opportunities, loss of passion and excitement.  We fill our schedule with the ‘normal’ things we like to do and stop taking risks, trying new things, exploring who we are. Our routines become us and next thing we know 5, 10, or 20 years go by and we wonder how we got there and where all the time is gone.  We may not even like our routines that we’ve settled into.  Lots of times we have imagined something completely different for ourselves than what we have.  Most people when asked, can easily tell you what the wish they were doing, the type of person they want to be, the places they wish they could travel.  But so few of us actually try to do it.

I think we are afraid.  There is so much to be afraid of.  What if we aren’t good enough?  What if we can’t do that thing?  What if we do it and it’s not as wonderful as we thought?  What will trying something mean to our relationships with friends and family?  Am I ready to risk everything?

I was afraid.  Petrified. The day I told my family I was leaving.  When I stepped off of the plane in a continent I’ve never seen, to live, indefinitely. The day I asked for a divorce. I’ve made so many changes.   SO many.  And because I was willing to do it, amazing things have happened to me and changed me.  I’m not sure I would recognize my old self.  I’m happy.  Like really happy.  

Something about taking risks is empowering.  In my experience, they actually rarely turn out poorly.  And every time I do something, it gets easier.  I’m better at it.  More confident.  Able to enjoy and appreciate the crazy opportunities I’ve had.  Less afraid.  

BUT... some of those fears are totally real.  My changes have resulted in unintended consequences to other parts of my life.  Mainly good, but some incredible painful.  Deciding what’s best for you and doing it can really change the important relationships in your life.  It has for me.  People don’t understand.  Relationships end.  They have their own opinions about what you should do.  I’ve lost entire families of people I love.  Relationships with friends and family that don’t see every day anymore have shifted and changed.  I can’t begin to describe how painful that is.  But the truth is, its also incredibly painful to be someone you are not.  Live a life you are unhappy in.  I love my family and friends and I would do anything for them.  But I can’t let what they want from me override my ability to decide what is best for my life.  

It’s like walking this fine line.  Knife edge really.  Between having the courage to create the reality you want and making the personal sacrifices you need to for the people in your life.  

All these feelings and this whole blog post is resurfacing because someone close to me in my life right now is going through this exact thing.  Stuck between the desire for change (the need, really) and the sacrifices he’d have to make to do it.  There so much uncertainty and pain on both sides.  And of course fear.  I have no idea what advice to give.  There really isn’t one right answer and both have consequences.  The grey area of indecision where no ‘right’ answers truly exist.  As much as I thrive on change, his situation is just really REALLY tough and it has effected even me deeply.  I’ve never been in a situation like this (leaving the details out here to protect the innocent).

But he’s doing it.  Despite how difficult it is.  He’s really doing it.  A recent update from him was ‘I think I’m going to puke’.  Which basically sums up how throwing yourself into the unknown really feels.  Scary, uncertain, lonely...  

It takes a strength.  A deep trust in yourself.  A vision for something better.  Hope, confidence and determination.  It’s a feat that not everyone is capable of.  Quite incredible in my opinion. (I'm so in awe of you)

Watching this take place has made me reflect on myself quite a lot.  I’ve been thinking of all these changes that I’m so happy I made.  Thinking about how very satisfied I am with myself and my life.  I don’t remember ever experiencing this before.

I came across this on facebook the other day;

I spent the first 25 years of my life anxiously awaiting the future, the next few obsessively depressed with the past, and now maybe, just maybe I’m finally learning to live in the present.

The biggest challenge for me was letting go of all my expectations of what life should be.  How I should be.  All of a sudden I found myself much happier with what it is. The future will come and it will be what it is.  Worrying about it only drives me crazy.  

I also had to learn (still learning) to forgive myself the past.  The pit of regret and pain easily swallows me whole.  Sometimes I need to just forget about it!

So I’m finding, this living in the present thing is just really really nice.  I don’t like thinking about the past or planning ahead too far.  I enjoy where I’m at, the people I’m with, the things I’m doing.  While I’m loving how I feel, this is having some unintentional effects.  I keep refusing, really refusing to make any decisions about the future.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I would actually rather live in state of flux and uncertainty than make concrete decisions I can’t guarantee, in a future that I don’t know what will be like.

If I were to do some self-psychoanalysis, I’m pretty sure I know why.  Concrete decisions I’ve made in the past have never stuck.  They’ve only ended in pain for me and usually other people close to me too.  So if i don’t make them, then I never have to worry about failing to meet them.

The ironic part is, that sounds like fear to me.  Afraid to take risks.  Which is the opposite of how I claim to be living my life.  I wonder why I’m so afraid to take these types risks that involve commitment.  To really dedicate myself to something singular...  

Life is full of contradictions, I guess.  Still I’m happy to say I’m willing to face them.  Everyday if I have to.  In constant pursuit of what is real, honest, and true.  

P.S.  Random, but I like teddy bears

5 Hundred 25 Thousand 6 Hundred Minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

For some, the New Year always brings about a time of reflection.  On the year, on themselves, on their jobs, their goals, their passions.  For me, it’s the end of the school year that does it. 

All school year I’m caught up in teaching, projects, meetings, vacations, friendships, plans and other business.  Right now there is about a month left until final exams and it feels like I’ve finally taken my first deep breath.  I feel the weight of this school year, of my life, of my choices, my battles, and equally so those people in my life. 

I came to Venezuela only 9 months ago with a suitcase full of plans for a relationship, a career, and a life I wanted.  I wasn’t prepared for the tests I would face or the truths I’d have to give up.  What really happened is, my relationship ended.  My job turned out to be something completely different.  I lost a family member and I struggled being so far away.  I missed my friends dearly and it pained me to stand on my own two feet; all alone.  Still, in the end, I wouldn’t change anything about it.

I thought I’d be teaching some science and physical education and enjoying what would be “easy” days compared to what I’m used to.  Instead I taught a combination of math, science, health, wellness, and global issues and became the stand-in College Counselor.  I developed and implemented a global citizenship program at my school, took student groups to the first ever Global Issues Network of the Americas in Lima, Peru, started an EcoCub, became a leader in our curriculum development, and the first ‘FedEx’ day intended to inspire students and their ideas.  I’ve traveled to Caracas, Maracaibo, Merida, VE and Lima, Peru with students, coached the basketball team, and worked hand-in-hand with my administrators on a variety of topics.  Small school = Many hats.  I go home every day exhausted. 

When I look back on it, I can’t believe all the things I’ve been involved in at my school.  And I can’t believe all the things I’ve found I’m capable of.  I’m at the end of my 6th year of teaching and I finally feel like I’m not being treated like a ‘new-bee’ anymore.  I find I have valuable experience to bring to the table and people actually listen.  I’m learning how to lead effective and efficient meetings and help a team achieve goals.  I’ve honed my email and verbal communication to try and create a positive climate.  Maybe, just maybe, I can be a leader.  Like really, really lead.  Use my passion to get the things important to me accomplished.  This year I’ve learned to say, “I can,” and believe it more than I ever used to.

Ironically, I’ve also decided that a career change is an inevitable part of my future.  I love kids, but I don’t love the classroom.  I love learning, but I don’t love teaching the same things over and over.  I love leading, but I don’t love trying to motivate people that don’t want to be there.  I envision working with like-minded adults to accomplish something truly great.  I want go back to school and create a depth to my understanding about the environmental world.  I want the freedom to self-direct.  To decide where I want to invest all of my energy and what kind of legacy I want to leave.  This change excites me.

My relationship ended mid-year.  With all the expectations I had, this is taking a real toll on me.  I’m staring at 30 and being single is not what I wanted.  But choosing to end a bad relationship and learning to rely on myself may be just what the doctor ordered.  I may not like it, but I’m learning to be alone.  I’m learning to find other connections that are important to me.  To put my needs first for a bit and quit trying to fix and modify the people in my life.  I’m learning to welcome in new friendships and say ‘yes’ to new opportunities.  I’m also learning what exactly it is I want in a relationship.

After much deliberation, I’ve narrowed it down to the following:

I want someone that can match my intensity for life.  Someone that understands when I don’t stop until I’ve got it ‘right’ but at the same time helps me step back and see the big picture.  I want someone that finds the inherent good in people and can empathize with anyone.  Someone who helps me forgive.  Someone that’s a problem solver and can make things happen.  Who has their own passions as well.  Someone that opens me up to new ideas and is patient and caring.  Who makes me laugh. 

And hey, it wouldn’t hurt if he was dashingly good looking with a great body :)

Maybe I’m asking too much...

Regardless, I’m offering a large sum of money to the person that finds him for me. 
**Big bonus if he practices yoga and doesn’t judge people with minor chocolate addictions.

But even bigger on the priority list right now:  I want my friends and family back!!  While living in Korea, I developed some of the best friendships I’ve ever had (Liz, I’m talking about you!).  And I had a community of rock-star women who were incredibly inspiring and supportive.  I miss them (Where are my Biscuits?!).  SO much.  I didn’t even realize how lucky I was.  And my family too!  So much seems to be going on at home that I’m not a part of.  This year has been lonely because of
that.  Lots of questions about what I’m doing and the relationships I’m missing out on. 

 Liz and I.  Man, that seems so long ago!

 

Left to right; brother eric, myself, brother adam, and sister alyssa.  Miss you.

Funny though how life always brings you what you need.  Since the breakup, I’ve put myself out there and gotten to know some really great people.  Like Marisa that I recently traveled to Colombia.  I mean, I do feel lucky here.  But it’s so hard to start from scratch.  The intimacy that is felt with an old friend or family member that really knows you is almost unbeatable.

And, another big thing that has happened this year... drum roll please... I’ve started looking into the adoption process.  Nothing substantial yet.  Reading, getting my head around the idea.  Sending a few emails.  I think I’m looking at a few years until anything really gets underway, but it feels really good to start thinking about.  It feels very right for me.

It’s been quite a year.  I feel a heck of a lot older most of the time.  I don’t like doing a lot of the things I used to do when I was younger.  I used to like to party a lot and now I can’t stomach more than a moderate amount of food and drink.  I used to love to read and watch fiction.  Now I’d rather read nonfiction and watch documentaries.  I used to run and workout until I couldn’t go another inch, and now I enjoy listening to my body and doing enjoyable activities like yoga and walking.  I find myself preaching to my students about ‘when I was your age’ and am surprised that some of my students are now sophomores in college.  I don’t feel as anxious or demanding anymore.  I let things pass more gracefully and I see things in the grey scale much more so than black and white.  And in general, I’m a lot happier with myself.  I’m less afraid to make mistakes, more easily say ‘I’m sorry’, and much less critical of my actions.  I forgive a little easier and let go of a little more.  With my 30th birthday looming, I can say that I’m happy with the curves my life has taken.  I appreciate my experiences and look forward to whatever the next 30 years have in store.

Namaste

Me Encanta Colombia

As our spring break approached (yes, I'm almost 30 and I still get spring break!  I love my life!), I was excited to be traveling with a friend that has grown very dear to me; Marisa.  This is us:

She's fabulous.  Really, really fabulous!  She's the kind of person who's always asking how you are doing, how she can help out, predicting what you might need.  She's happy, lives life to the fullest, isn't afraid to make mistakes.  Plus, she's just a ton of fun!

So our trip to Colombia was guaranteed to be amazing, but not without a few trials first!

The morning we were set to depart, my day started out great.  I got to sleep in a bit, had a great yoga practice, and then enjoyed tea and a book on my porch.  On the way to the airport we stopped for amazing 'arepas de cochino' at Luis' house.  This restaurant is literally a few plastic chairs and grill on a sidewalk, but it is AMAZING.  Now I'm not a pork fan.  In fact I rarely eat meat.  But I was coerced into trying these things and I can't help but admit they are to die for.  It's marinated in something amazing, grilled and then stuffed in a fresh arepa with avocados, cheeses and yummy sauces:

This is basically what they look like.  I literally had a dream about them once.  Luis was walking toward me, surrounded by light, and carrying one of these delicious things.  It was the best dream ever :)

As you can see, it was a great start to the day.  Too bad it didn't stay that way...

We arrived at the airport 2 hours early for our domestic flight.  When we got to the desk however, we found out our flight had already left.  Yes, they changed the flight time to 9am and never told a soul.  We rescheduled for the 3pm flight, but it was doubtful that we would make our connection to Bogota.  We needed a new game plan. 

Marisa's boyfriend picked us up so we could try to find another way to Caracas.  The bus option fell through so we began settling into the fact that we would be driving.  But first, we needed an oil change.  We headed toward the mechanic.  The traffic was terrible, stop and go.  And it was hot.  Seriously a scorcher, with no air conditioning.  Misery.  And then... the car breaks down.  Yep.  Right at a a stoplight in the middle of traffic.  Cars driving by honking, yelling, and there's nothing we can do.  We are sweating bullets by the time we finally get the car into neutral and push it to the side.  And we are not in a good neighborhood.  I stay in the car because my 'blonde-ness' attracts too much attention.  We start hiding our purses, valuables, credit cards in the trunk.  Marisa's boyfriend has the hood up and is trying to figure out what's wrong.  The most he gets out of that though is an electric shock from the battery.  This vacation has not even gotten off the ground yet!  Now what?

We have to leave the country.  We don't have a choice.  Otherwise our visas will expire and we'll be thrown into some Venezuelan bureaucratic nightmare.  So we are back to our first option; take the 3pm flight and hope for the best.  So we need a ride back to the airport.  Eric offers to come get us, but he gets caught in a Pro-Chavez blockade!  Seriously!  Can this day get any worse?!  After hours of waiting, our ride finally arrives and we head to the airport for the second time.  There's not much hope left however.  These local flights rarely leave on time.

These are the moments I hate traveling...

Surprise again; the airport turns out to be wonderful!  It's air conditioned, they have drinks, and our flight leaves on time!  Amazing!  But when we land in Caracas, the real test begins.  We push people out of the way as we sprint through the airport.  Marisa heads to international check-in and I wait for our bags.  By some stroke of luck, their isn't even a line for check-in.  Marisa has our tickets ready and all we need to do is get our bags to them within 15 minutes.  However, the luggage fails to arrive.  Now we are down to 10 minutes.  Finally the carousal starts turning!  But... then it stops again.  5 minutes left!  Finally our bags show up.  I grab them in hand and literally sprint to the international terminal.  They tape on some luggage tags with a mere 3 minutes remaining. 

Phew.

Luckily it turns out to be worth it.  Colombia is such a delight.  Incredible beauty, yummy food, friendly people.  Here are some highlights from our stay in Bogota:

Hot coco and cookies at little Arabian cafe - colombian chocolate is delicious!

Full-on Recycling Program! (Come on, Venezuela!  You can do it too!)

Parque Simon Bolivar- bigger than central park, trails around lake, yummy food stands (grilled corn, grilled pork and potatoes, obleas (caramel strawberry waffle)), various theatrical events, scary naked people, people on stilts:

 

Huge eye-ball men running around scaring children.  Is is wrong that I found this hilarious?!

A Restaurant called 'Andres Carne de Res' in Chia - World-renowned restaurant, fun, dancing event - Welcomed us with a small band that asked if I'd be their grilfriend and made us dance all around!

 Big Drinks in coconut cups!

 

 The menu is a BOOK!

 

Empanadas, red snapper in a Colombian sauces topped with cheese and shrimp. Delicious!

Colonial bogota:

   

Buying my dad "Treasure Island" at the used bookstore:

Highlights from our stay in Salento, a sleepy little mountain town with great views, hiking, cocoa farms and people!

 The town of Salento, surrounded by mountains.

 View from top lookout point.

 Bridges through the jungle - awesome!

 

Salento at night.

 

Tired while hiking, but loving it!

 

The Coffee process from left to right!  Best coffee (and strongest!) I've ever had.

Then we discovered this Colombian game called "Tejo"; game that was surely invented by a teenage boy.  Basically you throw metal, disc-like 'tejos' at a clay pit where gunpowder has been buried. 1 points for getting wedged in the clay, 3 points for causing an explosion, 6 points for landed in the small, circular middle target, and 9 points for and explosion and hitting the middle target. About every few minutes you almost wet your underwear when one of these things exploded starting small fires or sending out a small fireball of burning material.
Only in Colombia, throwing heavy chunks of metal and targets full of gun powder while drinking.

 The clay pit targets.  Me throwing - kinda like 'Bags'!  I'm so good.

 Marisa and I holding 'Tejos'

 The winning team!  Me, Marisa, and the shortest German I've ever met.

World's smallest but most delicious Tomato!

This is first, only and probably last tomato that my plant will produce in it's short lifespan:

 

It's been 7 months since I started my porch 'garden'.  I'm sad to report that the tomato plant is the last man standing and is now in it's final stages of life.   I've tried and failed it seems with the green thumb.  I'd like to blame it on the scorching Venezuelan sun and lack of good fertilizer, but it's more likely the weeks I forgot to water! 

Freeeeeddomm!

This morning I paid off my last credit card.

And then I cried, ran onto my balcony, and yelled 'Freeeeeddomm!' better than Mel Gibson ever could have done it.

It feels SOOOO good!

I hate when people say money doesn't matter.  It does for everyone.  But especially when you don't have it.  Owing an accumulating amount of debt over the past 10 years has shaped decisions, caused conflict with people in my life, lost opportunities, affected my self-esteem, and ultimately trapped me in a downward spiral.  Seeing that balance at zero... that's very freeing for me.

And now just another ten years on my student loans...

Hawaiian Reality Check

This past Christmas marks the first time ever that I haven't been home and with my family.  Instead, I planned a trip to Kauai and spent three weeks hiking, doing yoga, kayaking, swimming, and eating delicious food.  Kauai is incredibly beautiful and still well-protected.  It really was a fabulous trip.

Only one big problem; it wasn't home.  It was really hard to enjoy myself when I kept longing to be home for the holidays with the snow, the cookies, the drinks and the laughs.  Without the warmth of home and the love of family what is the point of holidays?

This and my ensuing breakup with my boyfriend has stirred up a ton of questions.  What am I doing here?  Why am I choosing this lifestyle?  Am I really happy?  Is the sacrifice worth it? 

I don't have answers to these questions right now, but I'm starting to investigate them.  In the years since my divorce, this is the first time I've really been on my own.  Viewing myself as completely independent for the first time is both liberating and scary as hell.  I'm taking it one day at a time...

Regardless, here are some pictures from Kauai!

 

The incredible view from the beach every morning.

 

After we finally made it to Hanakoa Falls!  It was rainy, slippery and muddy as heck. (from the left; emily, aaron, me and eric)

 

Backpacking the Napali coast.  Every view took my breath away.  And by far the hardest hike I've done!

"The strenuous eleven-mile Kalalau Trail winds along this rugged coastline, providing the only land access to legendary Kalalau Valley. The trail and facilities are rugged; some eroded areas are very narrow over cliffs that are hundreds of feet high."

Hazards:

Rated a '9' out of '10' in degrees of difficulty by the Sierra Club. Extreme inclines and declines throughout entire 11 miles. Narrow footpaths on high cliffs. Loose rocks underfoot and from eroding cliffs above. Trail is slippery when muddy. Strong sun. Heavy backpacks can cause overexertion. Filter all water. Strong currents and flash flooding can occur at river crossings. Dangerous shorebreak and riptides at Hanakapi`ai and Kalalau.

 

Camp setup on Kalalau Beach.  This only lasted for a little bit until the tide came in and almost swallowed us!

 

Amazing look-out point.

 

Watching the waves crash in on a deserted beach.  Nothing quite like it.  Eventually they went up to 30-foot swells!

 

Worst Travel Day EVER

Traveling back to Venezuela after the funeral last week will likely remain an all-time suckiest travel day ever.

First, some perspective:  I had just been home for a funeral for a week (so thus I was very sad) and this occurred shortly after a big breakup (so also, depressed).   I was going on a week of digestive issues, sore throat, and cold (which makes me extremely crabby) and I just had to say goodbye to my family, my support system, for the next three months (so add lonely and longing to the list).

Resistance seemed futile.  This was going to be a bad day.  Still, my hopeful side dug deep.  I've been reading some Thich Nhat Hanh and Prem Chodron and I decided that how I was feeling was just a state of mind.  If I was aware of it, I could try to look and the bright side and change it.

So when I got to my seat on my first connection and found the seat to be broken, I tried to roll with the punches;  "Well, at least I get to recline and relax,"  I thought.  That was until the flight attendant came by.  "Ma'am, your seat needs to be in the upright position for takeoff."  "Yes, I know," I tried to explain, but it was too late.  She was long gone down the aisle.  Two seconds later, a second flight attendant comes by, "Excuse me miss.  Please put your seat in the upright position."  "I know!" I say, but again she does not hear me.  In the end I have to sit leaning forward for the 30 minutes it takes to get to cruising altitude.  My back hurts and I'm crabby.

Connection number two isn't any better.  I'm in "zone 4" which means I get to board absolutely last.  By the time I get on plane, the overhead space has been taken and there's nowhere to put my stuff.  The flight attendant finds a spot in like row 30.  Great, now I'm guaranteed to also be the last one off the plane.

I'm seated in row 18, in the middle.  When I get there I see the lady sitting next to the window has assumed that she has the two seats to herself.  Now, I'm not judging here, but she is a very large women.  She was probably very hopeful that I wasn't coming to my seat because she had spread herself out between the two.  When she sees me coming, she flushes red and tries to rearrange herself in the window seat.  But as she pulls down the arm rest, it gets stuck.  Now she is super embarassed.  She continues to try to wriggle herself in, mortified at the attention it has drawn.  In the end, she gets the arm rest down, but is literally spilling over above and below it.  I feel terrible and guilty and I can tell she just is so, so embarrassed.  I spend the whole flight with my arms crossed, leaning away and trying to give her some room.  It was so incredibly awkward and felt like the longest flight ever.

I was excited to land in Atlanta, but unfortunately that was destined to be a miserable experience as well.  In about the first 10 minutes, one of the tires on my carry-on luggage stops rolling.  Yeah, awesome.  I get to drag that thing all over the airport.  My flight is also delayed.  3 hours.  I want to get a nice meal, but chili's has a line all the way down the stairs and the other restaurant has about 50 smokers in it, making it completely unbearable.  A soggy deli sandwich it is.  I make my way to my gate.

Somewhere along the line there is a gate change.  I get up and start dragging my broken luggage to the opposite end of the terminal.  I was lost in thought about something and I didn't notice there was one of those airport golf cart things trying to get around me.  It didn't beep or anything and I didn't know the guy was talking to me because I wasn't paying attention.  Well finally he got my attention when he started yelling at me and publicly berating me.  Something like, "Hello!  Lady!  Are you dense!  You're seriously not going to move?"  and then when I did finally notice and move out of the way, he zoomed by almost hitting me and saying, "Jesus, wake up.  Incredible..."  I just couldn't handle it.  I just started crying.  And then I got mad.  I decided I was going to give him a piece of my mind if I caught up. 

It happened he was going to my gate and I saw him turn around and start heading back.  In the end I didn't confront him with anger like I wanted to.  Instead I smiled and pretended to get in his way again as a joke.  He laughed instead of yelled at me that time, so it helped to break the tension.  Still I couldn't shake that crappy feeling.

Then I land in Caracas at like 1am  and tired.  The lady at customs was a real piece of work and laughed at me when I said I spoke a little Spanish.  Then my luggage never came.  I sat there and sat there and nothing.  I didn't see any delta people and didn't know what to do.  Finally some airport guy directed me to a side room and there was my luggage in a million pieces.  The zipper had broken and they had sort of tried to tape it together, but it was a mess (thanks, TSA).  I couldn't understand what the lady was asking me to do and I just wanted to cry again.  Finally they brought me some crappy clear tape and I taped it together the best I could and dragged it out of the airport. 

Of course then I was too late for the last shuttle to the hotel.  I tried to call the hotel, but for some reason it didn't work.  Again I'm in tears and getting ready to flag down a really expensive taxi, when I see the hotel shuttle pulling up!  It seemed like a miracle.  They never come that late.  I happily start dragging my luggage over and flagging the guy down.  He stops, but he won't let me on.  I don't understand.  Then I see a group of pilots and flight attendants walking up.  He's trying to tell me this shuttle is only for them.  But it's a HUGE shuttle.  There is plenty of room.  'No', he says...  I'm in traffic now and need to drag my broken luggage back to the curb.  Now the tears are really welling up.

One of the pilots sees me and tries to tell me something.  He disappears into the shuttle and then reemerges, flagging me in.  I guess he told the driver to let me on.  Thank God.  Although my seat is broken (again!) and it keeps falling back on the guy behind me and I have to sit in an awkward position to get it to stay.

Still though, once I finally get to the hotel, the flight crew is in line ahead of me and I get literally skipped by two asian dudes.  It takes forever to check in.  And then I need tape to fix up my luggage and that takes even more time to find.  I'm lucky when I finally hit the sheets at 2:30am, crying my way into my 3 hours of sleep before I have to catch my morning flight.

When I finally get home and unpack, I assume a lot of my stuff is going to be missing.  Surprisingly, it's not.  Everything made it, fully intact except for one item;  my old Birkenstock sandals.  I don't know why anyone would want to steal those, but I'm bummed because they are the most comfortable sandals ever!

I should be happier I think.  For all my little catastrophes, there was always something to save me.  And I did make it back in one piece.  No real permanent damage.  Although I hope I never have to relive that day again...

Death, Doubt, and Fear

My Step-Grandfather, Richard, passed away two weeks ago.  He got up one morning, took the dog for a walk, and never came back. 


It's strange how death is so much less about the person that passed and so much more about all of us who are left here.  I saw the people around me in all sorts of states of mourning; sadness, anger, desperation, loneliness.  But no matter what we were feeling, we each had to play a role.  The fixer.  The supporter.  The basket case.  The over-reactor. 


In all our different roles, we shared our fear and our sadness.  And we shared a realization of the thin line between our life here and the mystery of the after.  Some of us had doubt, some of us faith, but we all had a reality-check.  Life ends.  Someday each of us will lose our spouses, family, and friends too.  And someday each of us will die...


There was this picture of my grandpa hanging above the urn.  He was posing for a photo shoot for one of the plays he had acted in.  He'd gotten it years ago has a humorous gifts from friends in the play.  I doubt he ever looked at that picture and thought it might end up hanging at his funeral someday.


On the day of the funeral, hundreds and hundreds of people showed up.  At one point, the line was out the door with people shivering as they waited to get in.  My step-grandma stood at the end of the receiving line looking tentative with my mother by her side.  One by one she exchanged hugs and words with the visitors.  Most she knew, some she'd never met.  Each of them had a memory to share; there own version of Richard that meant so much to them. 


Through all the crying, her eyes actually gleamed for the first time in a week.  This man that meant the world to her was still living on.  Through every life he had touched and every venture he had been a part of.


There's a lot of things he didn't do right, but there's a lot he did.  And everyone that visited just wanted to talk about the good, the funny, the happy.


In the aftermath that has since ensued, I've learned a great deal about this man I wish I had been closer to.  As stories, articles and pictures surfaced all around me, I tried to know him and define him by what I saw;  engineer, musician, actor, collector, father, friend.  But my list started to grow out of control;  stubborn, giving, understanding, difficult, brash, kind, opinionated.  Each descriptor and story seemed to contradict the last.  I wanted so badly to have a definition and ideal I could hold him up with. 


In the end, it seems he's like all of us;  Complex.  Full of wisdom and inspiration and well as contradiction and imperfection.  He can't be put in a box, labeled and judged.  He was human like the rest of us.  He was human like me.  And he will be remembered.