Note: The following blog entry here is not in any way a whiny complaint, criticism, or attack against myself or anyone else. It is simply an insightful realization I have had about myself. It may or may not be 'good.' It may or may not be 'bad.' Maybe it's both actually. I'm still processing the meaning. Now that I have gotten that out of the way.... :)

This has been something I have felt and thought about from time to time, even more strongly the last few months since my move to Seattle. I was talking about this with my mom last weekend and though I don't have any specific answers, I find it interesting and wonder if I will always be this way or if it's just the path my life has taken thus far. I have observed that pretty much all of my life I have essentially been alone in one way or another.

Of course, I don't mean in the literal sense, like I live in a cave or that I'm a monk on the top of a desolate mountain. It plays out more in life scenarios, where I see myself more off to the sidelines. It's like I'm involved, but not enmeshed with people.

My parents divorced when I was 2-3 years old. Being that young, I don't recall any memories of them together. I was the only child from my parents and while I have half-siblings from both parents' subsequent marriages, I have felt more like an only child more frequently than an 'oldest' sibling. I spent alot of my childhood flying back and forth between living with my mom year-round and staying with my dad in Florida in the summers. I remember spending alot of time alone and bored during those summers. Most kids love summers, it's what they live for; I hated summers. I went through phases where I was quite a talkative kid and then over the years became selectively outgoing or selectively quiet. I have also felt bored throughout my life...ALOT. I need constant intellectual stimulation, a thirst of which can only usually be quenched through reading.

I was always more talkative around my family, but as I approached my freshman year of high school I was more quiet in class. I liked reading, analyzing things, and listening to what other people had to say (still do!), but I didn't like the spotlight to be on me per se. I always dreaded when a new class would start and the teacher wanted everyone to introduce themselves one by one, tell something about themselves. It caused much anxiety. I was always better one on one than in groups. Still am probably, though I can tolerate it and overcome my anxiety significantly better than when I was a teenager.

Things changed somewhat when I entered college. I joined a volunteer service/sorority organization that I really enjoyed participating in as far as the projects we did. I even became the Service Vice President one semester, making cold calls to different agencies/facilities to set up volunteer events for our group to do and speaking at the meetings now and then. It made me feel confident and great to contribute to worthy causes. Even so, it made me anxious and sometimes frustrated. As I said, I live more as an alone person. I enjoy groups and the sense of community it brings, however, I don't like to overidentify myself with a group. I need to be my own person.

I saw this played out time and again throughout the years. In high school, it was when I was involved with choir. I enjoyed it, but I had no desire to spend all my time doing choir things with all choir members. In college, it was the volunteer organization. I wanted to volunteer with great girls, but other people in my life took front and center as my close friends. I have always been single. I have casually dated guys, but never had a long term relationship (maybe there's a different reason for that, but let's stick to the subject, haha!).

Then when I moved to Chicago for graduate school, I literally WAS alone in all senses of the word. For the first time, I was living by myself and didn't know anyone in the big city. I spoke up more in my graduate classes, mainly because I had something interesting to say or curious question to ask. I got to know my peers from school, yet I didn't become overly involved in friendships with them. It was more on a friendly, superficial level.

I spent more time to myself reading, learning, and working at the bookstore with other people that seemed to be more like me than anyone else I knew in my life....they were somewhat alone too! They were outgoing, yet loners for the most part. It's like we were in this weird and mostly happy alone time 'together' if that makes sense. They were the only 'group' I felt I could share my aloneness with, perhaps because they liked reading, learning, and being introspective like myself.

Then there is my profession. I am an extrovert outwardly because I have to be to work with people. Once the door is closed though, I become alone with that person as their therapist. I spend a majority of the time being silent and listening, giving them my individual time. It is a very independent and 'alone' job.

Writing, which I enjoy, is also an activity that requires aloneness.

Do I seek out this aloneness, attract it, project this 'alone' persona (positively and/or negatively)? Or is this just an unconscious trait I perpetuate? I have been told by a few people that I come off as guarded, like there's this wall I put up emotionally or mentally. When I can see where someone is coming from, I have no qualms agreeing with constructive feedback about myself. I truly don't see this in myself though, and not in a resistant way. I honestly don't see it. Could I just be doing this with certain people I maybe don't trust on some level? I consider myself a warm, kind and open-minded person who typically puts people at ease with my down-to-earth attitude. So I'm trying to look within myself for some answers....

I like my individuality. I also really like people and having intimate relationships with them. Hopefully one day I will be able to understand where the alone factor comes from and whether it is helping or hindering me in the bigger scheme of things.

It's funny, my mom and I were just talking about birthdays yesterday. She felt that celebrating a birthday should be more about the mother who gave birth to the person rather than about the person who was born. I disagreed with her. Well, that's not true. I agreed with her to an extent, that celebrating a birthday should INCLUDE the mother since she was obviously the one who put in all the blood, sweat, and tears of childbirth....but I also feel that it is important for individuals to have a day  to celebrate their living existence, just for being who they are without it being attached to some kind of social role or encouraged formal celebration(Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's Day, wedding, baby shower, graduation,etc).

So with that said, what I like best about birthdays is spending quality time with those I love and those who love me. I think when I was younger I used to have high expectations, build a birthday celebration up to something unattainably joyful, thus I was frequently disappointed. The past five years though, it's the little things that make me happy: an unexpected phone call, email, or thoughtful gift letting me know I'm loved even when I may not always be reminded of it on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. It's also fun to think of something different to do on my birthday, like taking an adventurous trip to snowcovered waterfalls in the middle of nowhere with two of my closest friends. It's those memories that make birthdays the best. Birthdays also have a way of instilling self-reflection, how far I've grown (in all ways) as a person as well as how far I have yet to go!

What is the importance of celebration in your life? Why do you choose to celebrate something? Is there enough celebration in your world? Or too much?

Celebration is incredibly important, yet I don't think there's enough of it. Celebration gives us something to look forward to, a reason to feel loved and appreciated. Maybe if there were more celebration in people's lives, the world would be a friendlier and happier place. Sure, there's celebrations for the status quo kinds of things like weddings, graduations, baby showers, and the like. But what about celebration for just being who you are? Celebration is about acceptance and joy; it shouldn't be about circumstances.

It reminds me of an episode of "Sex and the City." Carrie had this friend who was married and had children. Carrie went to her friend's party and when she arrived, the friend asked her to take off her really  nice shoes. Reluctant but respectful, Carrie acquiesced. When it was time for her to leave, Carrie noticed her shoes were missing. Although just shoes, they were 'her thing,' something that gave her joy. Carrie's friend didn't seem to care that Carrie's shoes were missing. Carrie politely asked to be reimbursed for the missing shoes and the friend was irate. Carrie pointed out how many celebrations she has willingly and happily attended in the friend's life and wondered why the friend could not honor HER. Carrie sent her friend an invitation to "A wedding/marriage to myself."  She let her friend know that if she couldn't attend the 'wedding,' she was 'registered' for gifts at the same store where she had bought the shoes that went missing. Carrie got a new pair of the same missing shoes from her friend.

I remember that episode from time to time when I'm feeling sad and in need of celebration. Oddly, it gives me comfort and a sense of empowerment to create more celebration in my life, no matter how small. It sounds funny, maybe even petty....but just remember how you feel when you're in need of a little celebration in your life. :)

I recently read this book by Osho that discussed 'types' of characteristic traits we may demonstrate more than others, specifically what guides our overall choices in life and how we (individually) relate to the world. It is pretty similiar to the Jungian Myers-Brigg test on personality (ie, thinking, feeling, judging, perceiving), but Osho's explanations seem to go deeper. While I thought I tended to be more of a thinker, or at least be pretty balanced on both thinking and feeling factors, I am now starting to realize that I'm more of a 'feeler' than a thinker. In specific situations I can be very much a thinker, but deep down, I feel alot more than I think. This can be both good and bad, I suppose. You can't have the good without the bad, right? Most choices I would say I have made about people, life, love, what to do about conflicts,etc have been primarily made through how I have felt...NOT what I have thought.

From a very young age, even though I was a difficult child, I was always very sensitive to feelings. I would spend alot of time with my grandmother and I could just FEEL how much she loved me, so much so that I was totally devastated by her death when I was just 10 years old. I knew she had died even before I 'logically' knew, an intuitive feeling. And while I was so young when she passed away, there's really no one more influential on the degree of feeling and compassion that has been instilled in me than her presence in my early little life. Would I be as much of a 'feeling' person had she not been a part of it? I don't know. At times I have wondered if being the oldest child has made me that way too, but not entirely. I do care about my family alot, but I care about so many other people too. That was one of the other signs in the book I was reading about whether you're a thinker, feeler,etc: the feeling that you have alot of love/feeling for many people, not just limited to a person here or there. As I read that, I'm like, "Oh my god, that's totally me!!" It can be a great feeling, but it can also be difficult at times....especially lately.

One of the things I have struggled with over the years is frustration over not having a sense of fulfilled reciprocal emotional relationships off and on. Naturally, as I have said, I care ALOT about how others are, wanting to REALLY know their thoughts, feelings, secrets, dreams, fears, etc. And I enjoy those feelings, I really really do. But I also have the opposite feeling that come with it: a feeling of being the one who is taking care of others and alot of times the very people I'm nurturing aren't the ones who nurture/have an inclination to know me. I don't say this out of having high expectations, because honestly I really don't. I have in the past, but not so much anymore. Too much disappointment, too much heartache. I try to just rely on myself these days. But I still grapple with the feelings and tend to pull away from those I don't feel really care.

Lately, it has been two of my siblings. Granted, I know I'm the oldest and it's my 'role' to be the responsible one, see how they are doing,etc etc. But it gets old after awhile when I never get asked the simple questions people normally ask when they care: how I'm doing, what I'm doing, thinking, feeling,etc. I know my two siblings know I'm moving, and yet they haven't said a word about it because they're too caught up in their own drama. It may sound silly, but that's just one of numerous examples. I love them, but this hurts me. Especially since I always try to be there for them. Maybe I need to be more selective about whom I care about and with who I offer emotional support. Interestingly, I had this really intense session with one of my favorite clients today that really had me 'feeling' where she is coming from.

The main topic of discussion was how she is the oldest in her family and....(big surprise) has felt like everyone's caretaker, only to feel alone when she is the one that needs help, someone to listen,etc. Usually one to be very positive and keep her sad/painful feelings to herself, she began to open up to me in a way I have never seen in the almost three years we have done counseling together. I kept telling her it's ok to feel what she feels (because she kept trying to justify it...like I might do), even if I'm the only one she can express those feelings with. As the session progressed, she became teary and cried a little bit. I was quietly attentive as I allowed her to cry and listened to the pain she had buried from years past. There's something beautiful about witnessing raw pain, as depressing or bizarre as that may sound to most people.

Sometimes I think I'm too much of a feeler, too sensitive because when I see true pain (versus someone who may just be manipulative) in one of my clients, I too find myself getting emotional (on the inside). I can feel their pain so strongly that I secretly feel myself becoming slightly teary-eyed. I wonder if this is normal, if I'm too compassionate to be a therapist at times. But maybe it's just a part of the core of who I am. I don't think I'd want it any other way either, as hard and emotional as it can be.

At one point, she mentioned how she heard indirectly how much a family member loved her and how shocked she was because this person never told her directly. I told my client that it just goes to show how we sometimes have no idea who loves us, how much we are loved....that sometimes it's the people who never say/show it (or maybe it's so subtle that love us the most. It was as if I needed to say those words of insight/encouragement to remind myself just as much as it was important for her to hear me say it. I feel like I have had alot of sessions with clients in the past month where they end up breaking down crying. It is overwhelming being in the presence of that, but yet it helps me realize my own feelings on life, death, transition, and simply what it means to be a feeling human being. And in those moments, I am reminded of why it can be wonderful (for me) to feel SO much.

"Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in." ---American Beauty

     As I like to do from time to time, I asked what someone I know (my brother Alex, a poli sci/international relations grad student) was currently reading. More often than not, I am familiar with various nonfiction and fiction books, so I usually know what's currently interesting and worth giving a read. But I also love to ask my family and friends what they are reading because sometimes they suggest something that was slightly under my bookworm radar. I'm glad I decided to check out the book my brother is almost finished reading: "What is the What" by Dave Eggers.

     While I love biographies (especially memoir style), this is not a book I likely would have made a decision to read upon first inspection of the description. It seemed slightly intimidating to start reading and I wondered if it would be over my head as far as culturally and politically speaking. I was wrong. If anything, I'm learning alot about Sudan's struggles, its government, the SPLA (Sudan People's Liberation Army), and most significantly, the courage and resilience of its people.

     So far I am in awe of the book, 143 pages in. I relaxed on my bed for a good hour or two last night, unable to peel my eyes away from the intriguing and tragic story. It chronicles the trials and tribulations of Valentino Achak Deng, a Sudanese man (pictured here above: found off http://www.valentinoachekdeng.org/ website) who must flee his ravaged, war torn country at a young age in search of freedom and a better way of life.

     I couldn't help think of how lucky I am to never have to experience alot of the things this man has gone through throughout the course of his life.

     I thought about what it must be like to hear guns being fired right outside your home, with the possiblity that rebels could set your house on fire.

     I thought about what it must be like to be afraid to trek across the country in an attempt to flee danger...not knowing what dangers could come across your path along the way.

     I thought about what it must feel like to watch your friends and family look death in the face as extremists snatched away lives in mere seconds in front of one's very eyes.
 
     I thought about how scary it must be to run through fields of grass, with the very real possibility of being shot and captured by rebels...or worse, being captured and eaten alive by a lion!
 
     I also wondered what it must be like to have to think quickly on your feet: when to run, where and when to hide, who to trust along the migrating journey of "Lost Boys of Sudan."

     And I will never really have to know what it feels like. I. am. grateful.

     Stories like Achak Deng's make my life problems and melancholy moods seem quite laughable.....and all the more inspiring toward understanding the human condition from a more hopeful perspective, that of compassion and resilience.

     Time to get back to my reading of this book.....

     See this movie, see this movie, SEE....THIS....MOVIE! I cannot stop raving about it. Funny thing is I went into the theater with no expectations and little knowledge of what exactly the movie was about. All I knew was that it's based upon a true story (same book title) by Jon Krakuer. I knew it had something to do with someone surviving out in nature, but that's about it. This movie profoundly touched me; I'm almost speechless. Wow. What is it about, you may ask?

     What isn't it about?! I don't even know where to begin. I won't go too in depth because I don't want to give away the whole plot, ending,etc....but some of the themes and symbolism presented throughout the movie center around the main character Christopher McCandliss (or aka, self-proclaimed nickname "Alexander Super Tramp") and his quest for a meaningful, courageous, beautiful existence. It's about freedom and beauty. It's about him living his truth, whatever that may be at a given moment on his journey. It's about following one's bliss. It's about exploring the unknown....in all ways (physically/in nature, mentally, emotionally). It's about developing a strong and positive relationship with oneself regardless of others. Truly, overwhelmingly inspiring.

     I left the theater reflecting on my own life and how it challenged my own current perceptions of things. It also even gave me a crazy yearning to make a goal to pay off my credit card debt and once paid, quit my job in lieu of doing something off the beaten path...even if that just means taking a road trip into the wilderness, a challenging Outward Bound experience, maybe even something Peace-Corps like. It's not the first time I've thought about it, but this movie triggered those feelings in me after them being stagnant from the busy-ness of day-to-day living.
 
     "Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth." ---Henry David Thoreau

     These are the words the main character utters to fellow travelers he has met along the open road early on in the movie. Apparently he was always quoting the greats of literature, such as Thoreau, Tolstoy, Jack London,etc. The difference between him and us folks out there who may read something inspiring or deep and be moved by it...is that these philosophical approaches/ideas literally MOVED him to live his life to the fullest. Carpe Diem. Seize the day, he most certainly did!

     Although he abandons his family to partake in the new journey and is alone a majority of the time, he seemed to spark more change within himself AND in others (including his parents) by his absence than when he was actually around them prior to the journey. Seem strange? If you think about it though, not really. How much do we take someone/something for granted until he/she/it is suddenly snatched away, gone? Interestingly, McCandless makes a comment to an older man he has befriended. When it's time to part ways, the grandfatherly figure tells him "I'm going to miss you." He responds in likewise fashion, but adds that there is more to one's life happiness than the relationships in our life.
 
     I found this to be extremely apropos to me, a reminder to me to take a step back and see the bigger picture of appreciating all life has to offer....which should not be limited to just experiences with people....nature as well. It's about learning things about oneself, exploring the unknown with a wanderlust for adventure! And when he does relate with people he has met along the way, he is totally in the moment with them and almost seems to experience a more authentic rapport in conversation with them because of it. It's like he's "soaking up" each life experience as it presents itself...a constant mindful meditation of sorts and taking risks...hell, even actively seeking the risks to take. That is true courage and freedom if I've ever seen it.

     There's a funny part in the movie where he's talking to a guy (Vince Vaughn's character) at a bar, who is questioning his motives for this so-called journey and eventual goal to make it to Alaska. McCandless basically tells him he doesn't like how most people treat one another (and doesn't want to be that way).

"Just what kind of people are you talking about?" Vaughn's character asks.

...."parents, hypocrites, politicians....SOCIETY, SOCIETY, SOCIETY!" he exclaims like a madman. Hahaha, it was great!

     Alot of people didn't understand why he made the choice to live as he did....but he didn't care. He was a freethinker, removing himself from what he felt to be societal chains in favor of an uncluttered mind and a chance to 'be' an active participant in his life experiences. Even if others think he is weird, crazy, selfish, even wonder if he's still alive because they haven't heard from him....he commits himself to finding his own way, regardless of the outcome. Astounding.

     Paradoxically, he seems to set a living example in the process. He inspires others to question their own choices and live their own truths, whatever it may be for them (like he tells the old guy he doesn't have to stay at home and work in his workshop all day by himself....'get off your butt...start living!'). He plays a role (sometimes unbeknownst to him) in helping strangers/friendly 'roadies' confront their own fears, insecurities, and vulnerabilities. He seemed to live more fully (quality) than some people do in their chronologically long (quantity) lifetime. I am inspired. Did I say that already?!?!

     I left the movie wondering about my own life...how I may be holding myself back from living totally. I wonder if I would stop fixating (or less) on relationships in my life and not make them such an important part of my identity if I didn't live in the city....say if I lived in a more desolate, "wild" area.... a place where I'd have the potential to 'empty' my mind on a continual basis....living alone and keeping it simple like this guy. How long could I go just "communing" with myself, being playful and imaginative? Would I miss my family, friends, and a comfortable lifestyle...or would I find my life more powerful and meaningful in such a 'raw' environment?

     I am reminded of one of my favorite inspirational greats in the vast field of psychology: Abraham Maslow. I love his idea of self-actualization: "A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be. This is the need we may call self-actualization ... It refers to man's desire for fulfillment, namely to the tendency for him to become actually in what he is potentially: to become everything that one is capable of becoming ..."

   McCandless' "Into the Wild" experience? A moving representation of self-actualization.

  Watch this movie.

     I'm having a refreshingly bizarre week of randomness with people, not to mention the thoughts and feelings they have been triggering within me. Scary at first, but then fascinatingly wonderful. If you are wondering why I posted this photo of people in the semi light/semi darkness jumping in the air, it is because it is symbolic of how I'm feeling about life at the moment. It has been overwhelming me with a seesaw of emotions, but overall it's a great thing!

     Despite my feelings of confusion and stress about relationships and making big life decisions, I've had unexpected conversations with friends and family lately that have given me the kind of support and direction I didn't even realize on some level I needed. Most surprisingly, I have also been connecting and reconnecting with others that I don't usually even see or even talk to on the phone. For example, yesterday I talked to my friend Jennie for the first time in like 8 years! She called me all the way from Germany (where she lives) on my work phone and we had a great hour long conversation and it was almost as if we were back in college hanging out and talking about things like old times. It didn't feel like it had been 8 years at all. Love it.

     Over this past weekend, my friend Tracy told me about this job possibility she thought I would be an ideal candidate for in Seattle, Washington.....at a school where my friend's mother works. They are in need of a counselor. I spent a majority of my morning in between doing work yesterday working on completing the online application, so as not to miss this potential opportunity that has come my way. While I still have some questions to inquire about regarding the job, work atmosphere,etc, I am confident that things will work out the way they are supposed to, even if it means I do or do not end up getting/taking the job.

     Last night I called my dad to tell him about it, as I had not talked to him lately and wanted to touch base. I was surprised that right away he seemed to be discouraging me, questioning whether it would be a safe environment for me because it was an alternative school. I tried to be patient and see things from his perspective....I'm thinking ok, he's a cop AND I'm his daughter, so that makes him doubly protective of looking out for me. He immediately asked me if the school makes alot of calls to the police for violent disputes. I told him I didn't know, but that I would ask. He told me he didn't want to burst my bubble, but that if the school is anything like the alternative schools he gets calls from/has to respond to in Florida (where he lives), it is something I need to consider: the environment I would be working in. I agree that he has valid concerns/points, but at the same time, I became more annoyed the more I thought about it. I told him that I don't think my friend and her mother would have suggested this job idea to me if they thought it would be a hazardous working environment. He actually agreed with me that he had not thought of that/"true." I also told him it would probably be no more "dangerous" than my current job working with drug addicts! Still, my dad's cop instincts took over and he became analytical with his advice on looking up info on criminal activity,etc.

     While I plan on taking his advice to an extent, when I got off the phone with him he gave me a valuable realization, a reminder of how I make my own decisions and the kind of person I am at the core....with a balance of heart and mind. My dad and I tend to be opposite in that way. I think that's why he drove me crazy and we didn't get along much when I was younger. His decisions seem to be ruled more by rational thinking and analysis, whereas I follow my intuitive feelings on big life decisions. I realized last night I have always been somewhat of a rebel at heart. I'm not a rebel in the stereotypical ways. When I was a kid, I never got tattoos or snuck out of the house, got in trouble with the law, those sorts of things....but I would stubbornly question authority of my parents, talk back to them, not listen....I wanted to do what I wanted to do!
 
     I remember when I was a kid my mom telling me I would make a great lawyer because I sure did know how to argue and loved to have the last word. Haha. Of course, I have toned it down or at least modified it in more productive ways over the years, but it is STILL there, a part of me. Last night was no exception. What's funny is that my dad helped me realize that while I may have initial fears about the unknown, that hidden courageously stubborn part of me is right there behind it. After a little bit of doubt last night, I then started to think, "Eh, fuck it. I'm going to do it ANYWAY....just as I always do what I feel is right for me at the time." See, big decisions I have made (like moving to Chicago, for example) hasn't steered me wrong. In fact, it has created quite the opposite...opportunity to grow and discover myself and what I have to offer the world. I didn't know a soul when I moved to Chicago. I didn't know the city at all, how to get anywhere. I didn't know if I'd feel safe or vulnerable. I didn't know if I would succeed in graduate school. This overall feeling of "not knowing" proved more freeing and life changing than what I DID know....that staying stagnant is boring and lifeless. And what IS security anyway? It's all just a silly illusion we tell ourselves to keep from having anxiety attacks about life's uncertainties.
 
     My dad mentioned how it may be a "tough" job (the job at the school). I thought alot about this last night and this morning on my way to work. What HASN'T been tough and challenging for me in this field of helping people? Helping people IS tough, but it is a worthwhile and rewarding pursuit. This is what I'm passionate about....being the positive change I wish to see in the world (a la Gandhi style).

     When I was in graduate school I had an internship working at a residential facility with children who had been abused and/or had severe behavioral problems. There was at least one occasion (if not more) where one of the kids I worked with could have hit me with a metal pole or other weapon-like looking objects in one of the rooms where my supervisor and I would do the weekly groups. They could have if they wanted to, but I didn't and still don't live in fear of others...no matter how traumatic their past. I find the good in even seemingly "bad" people..not in a nieve way, but in an honest and real way. It doesn't mean I don't probe into the raw and nitty gritty emotions...in fact getting to the good stuff usually involves delving into the messy negative thoughts and emotions first. But I think having this mindset has kept "danger" away from me for that very reason. I see past what they did or things that have happened to them...I look into the humanity, the commonalities of life that make us all human. I am not afraid of someone who is showing me their anger, their fears, their dark side, their nostalgic feelings, their desire to want and be more, excitement over small accomplishments, or simply even a sense of hopelessness. I am not afraid, because I see these same things in myself....from my past, to my present, to my future. And I see all these things across the board working with my clients at my current job too....something else that was unknown to me when I first started, yet I think now how much I have grown personally and professionally.

     Just this morning I had this phenomenal session with this 55 year old Vietnam vet. He looks like a biker dude, but is totally soft spoken with a very philosophical and intelligent articulateness about him. Somehow, and I love when this happens at times, he got to talking about experiences he had in Saudi Arabia the two years he was over there in his early 20's. He only had to talk to me for a 15 minute session, and yet he was in my office reminiscing about fascinating people and experiences from his past for 45 minutes! I was in such awe. I thought, this is what makes my job worth it: listening and being a part of the stories of other's lives. When I handed him his appointment card for next month's session, he asked if we were done and I said "Yup." Before he turned around to walk out the door of my office, he looked at me with a shy smile and a softly sincere "Thank you."
 
     I don't think I'm meant to work a "normal" job. I think I would be bored and lifeless. Maybe "tough" jobs are what I know best and thrive at...a good fit for my inner rebellious streak. Interestingly, as I was walking the remainder of my morning commute this morning, I was listening to my radio/headphones. A song had just ended and the commentator started reading some passage, I think from "The Art of Happiness." I thought it was weird that anyone would be quoting something so spiritual on a radio station, especially considering it wasn't a religious station. I thought it was cool too, like a little dose of inspiration for my day. What really made me chuckle though was his last line, or personal comment maybe: "Follow Your Bliss." I took that as a sign that I'm exactly where I need to be and will continue to be....

  Yesterday and today I have been thinking alot about the idea of courage. Interestingly, it has been quite the pondering theme for me the past 24 hours..... 


     I spent a majority of my late afternoon yesterday reading Osho's philosophy on the principle in his book "Courage: the Joy of Living Dangerously." How many of us step outside our comfort zones and/or the "masks" we put on to the world? Do we reveal who we truly are or bask in the shadows of fear? Osho makes a distinction between courage and complete fearlessness. Fear is a part of life; everyone will experience it throughout life. Courage, however, is acknowledging the fear that is present and being oneself despite the fear. It can be scary going into the unknown because that is when we feel most vulnerable, but it is also an authentic and powerful experience.
 
     I just finished the book earlier this morning on my way to work. It is full of so many insightful and motivating things, a few of which spoke to me most....as it relates to my own fears lately with "exposing" myself through my writing and knowing people are reading my various "thoughts" on here...the "real" me.

     A few insightful quotes:

"To allow somebody to reach your center is risky, dangerous, because you never know what that person will do to you. And once all your secrets are known, once your hiddeness has become unhidden, once you are exposed completely, what that other person will do you never know. The fear is there. That's why we never open."

"Just be what you are and don't care a bit about the world. Then you will feel a tremendous relaxation and a deep peace within your heart. This is what Zen people call your 'original face'---relaxed, without tensions, without pretensions, without hypocrisies, without the so-called disciplines of how you should behave."
 

    I LOVE THAT LAST QUOTE! This is exactly how I feel about writing blogs....which is why I was so afraid to do it at first.....worrying what other people think. Even though it has been scary, I continue to keep going with a sense of courage because the more I write, the more I feel an odd sense of freedom to be myself, despite the opinions or potential judgment of others. I think, who cares!! It could be a great thing, for people I know (and don't know) to know the real me, masks removed! I'm definitely not fearless, don't get me wrong.....but I'm not truly living if I don't take risks. I would rather choose freedom over a "safe", dull, predictable existence. What is there to look forward to without a little "unknown" to give us that thrill and touch of anxiety in the best possible sense?!
 
    Another phenomenal quote: ""What matters is your choice: your choice to learn, your choice to experience, your choice to go into the dark. Slowly slowly your courage will start functioning. And sharpness of intelligence is not something separate from courage, it is almost one organic whole."

     Be yourself. How refreshing! How easy to say and how hard to do, but meaningful when one CAN manage to do so. After having read up on the subject, it was interesting to then be channel surfing last night and stumble upon the same theme! I came upon this show on PBS that instantly caught my attention. I was trying to figure out what was going on, as I happened to be catching the show at the last 10 minutes or so of whatever it was. There were a bunch of teenagers of different backgrounds (Israeli, Palestinian, Indian,etc) at this camp in the wilderness, I think in the US somewhere. The whole point of this camp was the hope that they would become more open-minded to see each other as equals/a common humanity.....people who otherwise view each other as "the enemy" when they are back on their "home turf." It was very cool to see/hear that it actually did happen, even though their whole lives they had been trained by their particular society to do just the opposite. It was called "Seeds of Peace." Then, right after that show was another segment of the "America at a Crossroads" series I had seen before.

     The first one I watched last month was about soldiers writing about their thoughts, feelings, and experiences regarding war. This one was called "Faith Without Fear." An Islamic woman, Irshad Manji, challenges the ideas of Fundamentalist extremism in the thought provoking program: pbs.org/weta/crossroads/about/show_faith_without_fear.html. Talk about inspiring! I thought to myself: wow, if this woman can be so courageous and speak out against injustices despite facing frequent death threats against her for doing so....what excuse do I possibly have for not working towards living more courageously myself?!?!
 
     Being yourself and not worrying what other people think....true freedom. Not only that, this also came up in two really awesome sessions I had with clients today. The first session I had wasn't necessarily about courage, but in a weird way, I felt like I had some insightful feedback/perspective to give him today because of some of the positive things I read in my book....like communicating how you feel about something in an honest and real way. And the cool thing is that the guy seemed to be open to what I was saying, like he really stopped, listened, and was processing it. With my clients that rarely happens during a session, so that made me feel good. Then, the second guy I saw today was talking about shame he feels in regard to his drug use. I talked with him about courage and not worrying what other people think, especially since they are going to think what they want to think anyway. He also really listened to what I had to say, like he might consider following the little "exercise" I gave him to work on overcoming shame in favor of "exposing" himself with courage.

     All in all, I've gained much insight from the ideas on courage presented to me to think about from not only the book, but seeing it in action....within myself and others.

Most of my writing ideas come to me in the quiet early morning hours before I go to work. Sometimes they are gleaned from conversations with others. Then there are the seemingly unlikeliest of times one might expect to get writing material: while running. Yesterday morning was one such occurence.

As I neared the end of my run by the lake's harbor, I thought about running as a metaphor for my motivation on any given point in time. When I feel motivated, I run. When I run, I feel motivated. It's bit of a chicken before the egg syndrome. Which comes first? Sure, it's been proven exercise gives us more energy, endorphins ('feel good' chemicals in the brain),etc But don't we have to get the motivation to run first? For me, mainly yes. Yesterday it occurred to me that how motivated I am in other areas of my life can be gauged by my running habits (minus any weather issues!). One week or two I can easily run three times per week. Then another week I may be lucky if I run even once!

It's not just the frequency that reflects my inner motivations; it's also the intensity and endurance I put forth. For instance, yesterday when I felt an urge to stop running to walk for a minute or so, I pushed my endurance by thinking "Ok, just run five more feet to the lightpost ahead." I reached the marker and then it became "Run ten more feet to the park bench." Before I knew it, I had gone 30-40 more feet without stopping to walk at all! Other days I can barely make it to the first "marker" I set for myself.

On highly motivated days, I feel highly accomplished. On low motivation days, I don't feel quite so good about myself. This can be translated as a parallel to what's going on in my life. If I feel this way at work (today for instance being a low motivation/anxious day), with relationships and/or other goals I aim for, this is more or less how I'll feel when my feet touch the open road to run (or not).

Last year while having coffee with a friend of mine, we had an interesting conversation that still sticks in my mind. He believes there are three kinds of people in life: walkers, runners, and jumpers. This is, of course, a metaphor for how people tend to live their lives. He explained runners are those who go after what they want, whereas walkers are slow at setting and accomplishing things. Jumpers are the extreme example of ambition. "They are the ones who have everything going for them. They graduate two years early from school, that sort of thing." My friend categorized himself a "walker" and I the "runner."

What if we don't fall in one particular category though? As I mentioned, there are days I feel like 'walking' through my life and there are days I want to 'run, run, run.' Sometimes I even like to 'dream' or be off in a daze without doing one thing. And I think that's ok.

After my grandmother died when I was 10 years old, I started getting to know my grandfather more. Over the years, we eventually became close. Prior to that time,  it felt like he was more an extension of the love my grandmother showered upon me. He was always around, but never took the 'spotlight' in my life until after her death. I sometimes wonder if I would have had the opportunity to establish such a bond with him if my grandmother had not died when she did.

We moved away from our small hometown of Derry, New Hampshire shortly after my grandmother's death in 1988. Moving to the Great Bridge/Chesapeake, Virginia town was a big transition for everyone in the family, my grandfather being no exception. With his wife and his daughter's family now gone, loneliness was more the norm than the exception.

While he could have easily sank into a depression or been discouraged by the circumstances, he instead utilized the opportunity to connect with our family by starting a new annual tradition. For the next three or four years, he would drive across the miles to our house and live with us. I can't remember how long he would stay, but I do remember every year he always arrived right around the holidays near Thanksgiving time. I credit his living in our house with my growing curiosity to spend time with him, including getting to know his personality and his little idiosyncracies I wouldn't likely have seen much of otherwise.

Grampa loved watching the evening news, as well as the cop drama of the 80's, "TJ Hooker." I remember watching many afternoon episodes with him. He would sit comfortably in our plush pink leather chair in the living room. Frequently, I would ask him a question or comment on something happening in the show, only to look over and see him nodding off into a nap. hehehe. He loved eating the Swanson fried chicken, corn, and mashed potato tv dinners. He also had a thing for the occasional sardines out of a can. They stunk so bad I could smell it on his breath if I got close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek before I went to bed! He would just laugh, as he never failed to see the humor in most situations. He enjoyed photography and equally loved traveling. Sometimes he would let me tag along with him on little excursions, one of which involved us taking the dog with us to check out one of Virginia's great historical sites.

One memory that sticks out most vividly in my mind, however, is the image of him sitting at the desk in my brother's room when we lived in Panama City, Florida. I always knew when Grampa was around when I could hear loud distinct typewriter noises, extending all the way down the hall of the house. I would walk out of my room to see what little writing project he was working on at the moment. No matter what he was writing, whether a letter or a short story, he always looked productive and engrossed in his art. 

Glasses slid almost to the bottom of his nose, his fingers rapidly tapping the keys of the typewriter, he was in his creative element. No one could bother him or pull him out of that state of mind if they tried. This simultaneously fascinated and perplexed me at the time. Looking back in hindsight, perhaps my having observed him happily engaging in this pursuit had some influence in my own developing writing endeavors over the years.

 I started writing in a journal when I was 15 or 16 years old, though it was never anything I considered interesting material. More like "I have a crush on so and so" or writing about what I did with my friends over the weekend. Having moved alot throughout my childhood and teen years, I picked up the hobby of writing letters or emails to friends as I got got older. Aside from the aforementioned, I didn't write much else for pleasure. I remember writing silly little poems when I was in college, I shamefully must admit. But I wasn't good at it. There were endless papers to churn out in college and graduate school, but I didn't think much of my writing. The way I saw it, I wasn't doing anything different than other students working hard on a paper to get a good grade. This changed, however, when I started writing without it being out of obligation. Just pure enjoyment.

Like the reminiscent image of my grandfather happily engaged at the desk at our house in Florida, I have become the modern reflection of this image. Now it is I sitting at the desk, fingers flying across the keyboard, unaware of all else around me besides the words I create on the screen in front of me.

As I sit now and write with a similar passion for the art form, I smile and think of how my grandfather's memory and art live on within me.