"The most often repeated commandment in the Bible is 'Do not fear.' It's in there over two hundred times. That means a couple of things, if you think about it. It means we are going to be afraid, and it means we shouldn't let fear boss us around. Before I realized we were supposed to fight fear, I thought of fear as a subtle suggestion in our subconscious designed to keep us safe, or more important, keep us from getting humiliated. And I guess it serves that purpose. But fear isn't only a guide to keep us safe; it's also a manipulative emotion that can trick us into living a boring life." ~Don Miller
I am so flipping proud of myself right now. And it's because I've done something insane.
Allow me to explain.
I am going alone to San Francisco, a place I've never been, on a train in June with what I can carry in a backpack to see Paul Simon and I have no idea how to get anywhere and I am staying with a person named Joan who I have never met and found on airbnb and then flying back two days later.
Insane.
And I'm so excited. I mean, it has all the ingredients for an incredible experience, so there's that. But honestly, I am proud of myself for ignoring fear.
One of the side effects of being an older and single woman that people don't address very much is fear. There's an endless need to be smart, to weigh the potential upsets that sit outside your circle of normality, to defend yourself emotionally and physically because you are the only one fighting that fight day in and day out. It sounds irrational and paranoid, and sometimes I'll admit it walks that line; doesn't everyone walk that line when it comes to protecting those in their immediate circle? That's what our fight/flight/fear response is. It's a neurological reaction that shuts down our logic and relies on instinct for protection. Which actually, is the only reason any of us are alive right now. So thank you fear, you are important. But you also are annoying.
It takes incredible balance to identify valid concerns and respond healthily and wisely. Organizing, conquering and working one's way through that balance can be a struggle. Grabbing fear by the shoulders when necessary and shaking until that measly little instinct cowers down and wanders off with it's tail between it's legs takes courage and fierce bad-assery and a little bit of faith in oneself. And sometimes it also takes something as motivating as a ticket to Paul Simon which, luckily, I happen to have.
So peace out. I'm determined to live a grand life and you're welcome to join if you like. If not, Paul, Joan and I will send you a postcard.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Refugee Crisis Resources
Earlier today I was feeling so empowered to make an impact on the refugee crisis. However, reality quickly set in and I realized I had no idea (like, none. 0% ideation) how to move forward. I live in Orem, Utah! I am not rich! I cannot fly across the world to volunteer, as much as I would love to! How can I possibly make a difference?
So I started doing some research. I actually came across some great resources for options of ways to act right now in your own life. Several of these are focused specifically on the Salt Lake area, but there are typically links to other areas as well. So I'm sharing links here just in case there are others who might feel stumped as well. This is in no way a comprehensive list of organizations or options. I started here and that led me to some great websites. A lot of them ask mainly for monetary donations, but if you do some hunting there are other ideas too. Here are a few links.
Enjoy. But also do something.
Seriously, do something.
Letter to Congress via Catholic Relief Services (CRS)
https://secure.crs.org/site/Advocacy?pagename=homepage&page=UserAction&id=941&AddInterest=1881&_ga=1.204646800.1203597671.1459738876
Online Fundraising through International Rescue Committee (IRC) http://diy.rescue.org/
Generation Rescue (There is a location in SLC) http://www.rescue.org/genr
DIY fundraiser event (Includes a link to some event ideas)
Specific gifts (Range from $23-$84)
Rescue Programs in SLC (For program descriptions/options)
Rescue Programs in SLC (For program coordinator contact info)
Contacting your elected officials
Raising awareness via social media
Spread the word and organize events
Sunday, January 10, 2016
2016: Story
"Much wisdom often goes with fewer words" ~Sophocles
2012: Pause
2013: Listen
2014: Accept
2015: Ready
2016: Story
Starting in 2012 at the approach of each year I choose a word to spend those twelve months focusing on, and every year I am blown away by how pertinent that word becomes.
2015 was full.
January to May I student taught in a city I love with a person I view as an immensely valuable friend and mentor. From May to August I worked summer camp with brilliant kids who taught me that I am capable, just like them. I also learned during the sweltering Virginia summer what depression feels like. With wise and loving help I gained some tools for allowing a spectrum of emotions into my life without defining myself or my day by any of them. In August I accepted a job across the Country in familiar territory with new everything. A job that surprised, stretched and excited me then and every day since.
In 2015 I went to Arizona, California, Mexico, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New York, and drove myself from Virginia to Utah. I read twenty-nine books, watched the entire series of Parks and Recreation, and finished my Master's degree.
And I bought a new car. So could I be more adultly? No way Jose.
I also bombed all of my 2015 Resolutions (like, bombed), moved back into a shared apartment (an apartment), went on one date (yep, one), and I still use a phone that has buttons on it (really, buttons). Lest ye think me fully put together.
But man, that was a good year.
I didn't put together how packed 2015 was until I got to the end of it and started reviewing through photos and my once-a-day journal. (I made a journal where I write down one line about what I did that day. It can fit about ten years worth of days. I'm obsessed.) As I thought about how my 2015 word, Ready, permeated every phase of those twelve months it made me want to select my 2016 word carefully and purposefully. And it's Story. Story.
There are many things that led up to me selecting "Story" as my 2016 word: Family history interviews from the past two years and the invaluable insights that came from them; Writing a book with my dear friend Connie; Accepting unexpected experiences and empowering their ability to impact through sharing them with others; A friend of mine planting a writing idea in my mind for kids with autism; Attending the Storytelling Festival in September; Hearing the incredible stories of people I love across the Nation through my travels, and reading "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Don Miller. 2015 left me no choice. Story had to be my word.
In 2016 I want to live a better story. I want to hear stories, share stories, record stories, create stories, understand what makes a good story, and live a story I'd like to have told to me. That's my word. No resolutions this year, no plan, just an idea.
"You can call it God or a conscience, or you can dismiss it as that intuitive knowing we all have as human beings, as living storytellers; but there is a knowing I feel that guides me toward better stories, toward being a better character. I believe there is a writer outside ourselves, plotting a better story for us, interacting with us, even, and whispering a better story into our consciousness." ~Don Miller
My hopes for 2016 in three words: Character. Setting. Conflict.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Thoughts on a plane
I wrote the following on my flight back to Utah after spending my Christmas break in Virginia. I read it again today and found it worth a laugh, so I'm recording it here. Enjoy.
Happy New Year. I'm on a plane on my way back to Utah. I remember now why I always try to deprive myself of sleep before a long flight. I've finished my book candy ("From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler") and am now being serenaded by the loud, brassy tones of the woman in front of us sharing how many cranberries she eats each day to bring up her probiotics, and how to increase prebiotics which are food for probiotics. She's upset her husband won't join the program. Dear man. I don't know where he is but he is probably eating twinkies somewhere with delight.
Now that I've been a snob, let's have a confession paragraph. My flight for christmas break was a red eye from SLC to Charlotte, NC, a two hour layover then a one hour flight to Charlottesville, VA. Fairly ideal. Being the end of the year with its traditional and customary whirlwind of visits and obligations I was exhausted. I slept the entire flight to Charlotte and thought I was feeling rather chipper as I reached my gate. I settled in, read my book and counted down the ten minute blocks. So close to home!
And then I woke up.
"Why are these people different? Why is the gate lady gone? Why is the door closed? WHY?"
It was ten minutes before my flight was set to take off. I stumbled to the neighboring gate and established that I had indeed slept through the entire boarding process. I was keeping it together fairly well until they asked me to confirm once more what flight I was on. I pointed out the window to my plane taunting me with its presence on the tarmac and cried/spoke "It's that plane... right theeeere!" Sitcom level, I tell you. Painful and pure gold.
I got a standby ticket from the customer service desk, then as I walked away felt a prompting to go back, to start the conversation again. I did so (repeating my preface of "I'm emotional and upset but at myself not you. Apologies.") and this time the woman changed my arrival airport and got me there only two hours behind schedule. I could have cried all over her efficient and manicured personage. A very patient mother and Granger picked me up in Roanoke. Mom's back was out so Granger did some super swell stealthy spy moves to find me, then we drove all the way home. Bathroom break, then back in the car to drive the additional hour to Charlottesville to get my luggage.
The whole experience was embarrassing, frustrating, a waste of valuable time, and an opportunity to practice vulnerability, sincerity, and choosing humor. And in my opinion it makes a great story. Lots of people sleep through their flights I suppose. But I don't know how many manage to do so in the airport at their gate. Aren't I impressive?
Happy New Year. I'm on a plane on my way back to Utah. I remember now why I always try to deprive myself of sleep before a long flight. I've finished my book candy ("From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler") and am now being serenaded by the loud, brassy tones of the woman in front of us sharing how many cranberries she eats each day to bring up her probiotics, and how to increase prebiotics which are food for probiotics. She's upset her husband won't join the program. Dear man. I don't know where he is but he is probably eating twinkies somewhere with delight.
Now that I've been a snob, let's have a confession paragraph. My flight for christmas break was a red eye from SLC to Charlotte, NC, a two hour layover then a one hour flight to Charlottesville, VA. Fairly ideal. Being the end of the year with its traditional and customary whirlwind of visits and obligations I was exhausted. I slept the entire flight to Charlotte and thought I was feeling rather chipper as I reached my gate. I settled in, read my book and counted down the ten minute blocks. So close to home!
And then I woke up.
"Why are these people different? Why is the gate lady gone? Why is the door closed? WHY?"
It was ten minutes before my flight was set to take off. I stumbled to the neighboring gate and established that I had indeed slept through the entire boarding process. I was keeping it together fairly well until they asked me to confirm once more what flight I was on. I pointed out the window to my plane taunting me with its presence on the tarmac and cried/spoke "It's that plane... right theeeere!" Sitcom level, I tell you. Painful and pure gold.
I got a standby ticket from the customer service desk, then as I walked away felt a prompting to go back, to start the conversation again. I did so (repeating my preface of "I'm emotional and upset but at myself not you. Apologies.") and this time the woman changed my arrival airport and got me there only two hours behind schedule. I could have cried all over her efficient and manicured personage. A very patient mother and Granger picked me up in Roanoke. Mom's back was out so Granger did some super swell stealthy spy moves to find me, then we drove all the way home. Bathroom break, then back in the car to drive the additional hour to Charlottesville to get my luggage.
The whole experience was embarrassing, frustrating, a waste of valuable time, and an opportunity to practice vulnerability, sincerity, and choosing humor. And in my opinion it makes a great story. Lots of people sleep through their flights I suppose. But I don't know how many manage to do so in the airport at their gate. Aren't I impressive?
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