Has it been almost a year since my last post.... perhaps, yes, it sure has.
I hear the lawn mower run, as a father-son team take care of our overgrown grass. We have very capable hands in the house to take care of this sometimes, tedious chore, but when this nice dad and son team offered to mow our lawn for a donation, we couldn't say no. Our teenagers would not have it any other way... LOL Wink, Wink! ;-)
What a day... Recuperating from skin procedure, having to clean wounds, change gauze and apply more Neosporin that one can possibly imagine, only draws a loud UGH from me. Pity party over because I have to still work full time, and go to school full time... I don't have time to dwell and stress out about how I miss and need my boy by my side every single minute of my day, and that the seven page paper due on Saturday forces me to dig deep into the psyche of the former, yet, perpetual, student affairs professional in me. Nope, no time... you know why? Because of my hands are getting wrinkly. There are lines everywhere. I need to put more lotion on them!!!!
I am staring at my hands and all I see are lines. Actually, they remind me of my mothers hands. At 42, I have outlived my mother five years after being the age she was when she died. My nails are short because I type (A LOT!) and at the same time, I see my grandfather Eddie's hands. Holy shit, I have their hands! Why am I writing about this? I don't know. But what I do know, is that today, in the middle of the pain of my scar wounds, my work and school stress, I was able to pause and look at my hands. That made me think of my mother, and it just now made me think of my Abuelo.
These awesome people, father and daughter, who have huge meaning in my life, seem to be creeping around me more than ever. I can only say it's because of how much I love and think of them. They never left, they are with me. I keep staring at my hands....
A pause for the day to reflect and be grateful for today is 100% a result of our Grandpa Uhlig, who we went to see at the hospital. You see, Grandpa, Joseph Uhlig, is 93 years old, a dedicated World War II veteran. He served in the Navy in the Pacific, and lost his brother in Pearl Harbor, that day. Yes, that day. Grandpa is my father-in-law, and the father of his youngest son, Paul, my best friend, love of my life and husband. Grandpa has been having ups and downs lately, but that 93 yr old Texan heart, while tired, keep going. He is sharp as a tool and funny as hell. I always greet him as "Hey handsome" and he smiles, saying "Well, I like that!" Paul held his dad's hands today, and Sarah, our eldest, held his hands as well. Grandpa likes to have his hands held because he and Dorothy, my mother-in-law, have held hands through thick and thin for more than 60 years of marriage. They are THAT couple you want to emulate, you are inspired by, you look up to. Commitment, faith, respect, a hint of mischief I bet, and most unconditionally, LOVE. Mind you, I just joined this crew a few months ago... and I can see is LOVE! ;-)
We left the hospital with Grandpa's blood pressure close to "normal" and with the promise of tomorrow, as we gathered the kiddos to drive home and sort out the details for the next 24-48 hrs. He said something to me that I will never forget, and it will forever be engraved in my quick, short-lived few moments I have had with him... but that's between my kind, and sweet, father -in-law, and me---well, and anyone else who was at earshot! ;-)
Schedules must be tweaked, flexibility on high, and chins up with excitement of new days and new adventures awaiting, including college visits, doggie day camps, mommy-daddy time and pizza and movie night. We left the hospital with hearts full of love, and faith, grateful for what we have, blessed with the memories of those we loved and lost, and inspired by their memories for a better tomorrow of those blessings around us, big, small, wrinkled, as my hands... May that be our prayer for you.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Just a little reminder about change! Bring it on...
I realized earlier this week I had not posted in over 4 months. My self-proclaimed no. 1 fan said "You know what I miss? I miss your blog." Those words have echoed in my mind for a few days now, so here I am. Where to begin and how to summarize the many thought running a million miles a minute inside my mind.
I could write about the many wonderful things that happened to me this summer, or even in the last six months. I could write about how my life has taken an exquisitely lovely turn into the bliss of true love, partnership and the dawn of a new life that will bring much joy, never sugarcoating the challenges that may come, but looking at them in the face, saying "I am not afraid. I've made it this far!"
What seems to be bubbling up inside is a feeling of calmness, peace, with a hint of excitement of what may come. New life, new routines, a move, a big move, a shift. In other words ...change. Many of us can't quite handle change very well. And "change" itself can be yucky word symbolizing something may be broken and needs fixing, or an end, a loss; something we need to adjust and get used to again.
But is it a "thing", this change we are so afraid of? No, I think it is in ourselves. We need to change, or figure out how to react when that change comes... I can speak for one that has HAD TO find an appreciation to balancing change with routine. Yes, it's called balance: a novelty concept! ;-) I am no expert in it, but I certainly have had to embrace it, and you know what... get used to it. Change comes to our lives every day, at any age, in any shape or form. From being a 12 year old whose mom suddenly dies, to having to leave the comfort zone that is home, family, for education and new perspective because you were taught just that: there is a whole world right in front of your eyes, if you just OPEN THEM!
Change is good. It's not easy, I never said that. But, amidst routines and staleness of how "things have been" or how "they used to be", the clock keeps ticking. Time passes, and life is precious...Oh, so precious. So, change comes. So what do we do? How do we handle it? Do we get angry? Maybe. Sad? Sure. I made a decision a long time ago to NOT allow the uncomfortable and sometimes awkward feelings that change brings to linger. My pity parties are short lived--I simply don't have time for them. Too many blessings and wonderful lives and loves to celebrate.
CAVEAT: I am more than aware that "change" comes in different layers of intensity as I have mentioned, so consider the word change loosely, yet loaded, as it can be applied to so many aspects in our lives. And I have learned from one person in particular how to handle major life change with patience, acceptance, grace, and even humor. He is my hero and my example...
So, the decision is this, and I remind myself of it every day when anything hints change in my life...
get over it, get used to it... Whatever it is that life places in front of you that prompts change, stand firm. Look at it in the eye and do not be afraid of it. It's a lesson from a much higher power put forth because by now, you've been able to pass many a tests, jumped through hoops, survived some of the most horrific heartaches faced. You are stronger than you know... and a little bit of change in your routine can be faced with strength, courage and resilience.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
On leadership...
"We shape our buildings, therefore, we shape us" - Winston Churchill
As part of a doctoral course, I recently had to examine and reflect on this quote from the famous Prime Minister of England, who said these words at a time his country had been ravaged by war and left with uncertainly for a future. Indeed, a time that could be described as transformative, when transformative was certainly not as much a buzz word as it now...
My interpretation of the quote included, but was not limited to, a vision and understanding of how a physical space can touch, change a community's life. A place can become alive for a person and impact their outlook on life. A building can become a home and safe haven for employees. We, as people can physically shape the building by "using it", walking through its doors, riding elevators, chatting with co-workers at the water cooler, or doing our jobs in our stations. This is of course, after the actual building has been built by hard working laborers who left their sweat and deep breaths with every brick and mortar laid.
We shape our buildings, therefore we shape us, through the conversations that take place, the life experiences shared, the tears shed, as well as the laughs.
I believe it takes great leadership to make difficult decisions. I don't know for a fact, but perhaps Winston Churchill had to decide to demolish a crumbling building in order to rebuild a new, stronger one, with a solid infrastructure and secure beams, to ensure its inhabitants, people, friends, and colleagues alike would have a roof over their heads long term. Then more shaping takes place. And the shaping is done by us, thanks to the building. How do we come together to shape it better? How are all members of a community invited to share views and opinion of what this so-called shaping should be. Ultimately, how does this experience of exchanges, agreements, disagreements shape us as a community... Can we agree to disagree? Can we come to a consensus? Can we trust our leadership? I hope yes...
As a self- proclaimed contradicting realist, who sees things from a practical perspective, never losing hope in the ideal, I hope negative circumstances and events in life shape us as a community of imperfectly human people to critically think and not lose sight of the greater good. A city needs to be rebuilt. A program should be evaluated and assessed to yield better results. A leader must lead in order to prepare his or her people for what the future will bring.
We may not agree with the methods of the re-shaping, but how that it is taking place place. What we must realize is that it is having a direct impact on us, therefore shaping us... When we as a people embrace this concept, transformational learning takes place through transformational leadership.
Is it easy? Of course not. We, individual adult learners, live and work every day challenged by the physical, spiritual and even hypothetical buildings we shape. May we allow the same buildings to shape us in a way we can be proud of, with trust, faith, enthusiasm and hope.
"Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm" - Winston Churchill.
As part of a doctoral course, I recently had to examine and reflect on this quote from the famous Prime Minister of England, who said these words at a time his country had been ravaged by war and left with uncertainly for a future. Indeed, a time that could be described as transformative, when transformative was certainly not as much a buzz word as it now...
My interpretation of the quote included, but was not limited to, a vision and understanding of how a physical space can touch, change a community's life. A place can become alive for a person and impact their outlook on life. A building can become a home and safe haven for employees. We, as people can physically shape the building by "using it", walking through its doors, riding elevators, chatting with co-workers at the water cooler, or doing our jobs in our stations. This is of course, after the actual building has been built by hard working laborers who left their sweat and deep breaths with every brick and mortar laid.
We shape our buildings, therefore we shape us, through the conversations that take place, the life experiences shared, the tears shed, as well as the laughs.
I believe it takes great leadership to make difficult decisions. I don't know for a fact, but perhaps Winston Churchill had to decide to demolish a crumbling building in order to rebuild a new, stronger one, with a solid infrastructure and secure beams, to ensure its inhabitants, people, friends, and colleagues alike would have a roof over their heads long term. Then more shaping takes place. And the shaping is done by us, thanks to the building. How do we come together to shape it better? How are all members of a community invited to share views and opinion of what this so-called shaping should be. Ultimately, how does this experience of exchanges, agreements, disagreements shape us as a community... Can we agree to disagree? Can we come to a consensus? Can we trust our leadership? I hope yes...
As a self- proclaimed contradicting realist, who sees things from a practical perspective, never losing hope in the ideal, I hope negative circumstances and events in life shape us as a community of imperfectly human people to critically think and not lose sight of the greater good. A city needs to be rebuilt. A program should be evaluated and assessed to yield better results. A leader must lead in order to prepare his or her people for what the future will bring.
We may not agree with the methods of the re-shaping, but how that it is taking place place. What we must realize is that it is having a direct impact on us, therefore shaping us... When we as a people embrace this concept, transformational learning takes place through transformational leadership.
As I tackle my second quarter in the challenging yet fulfilling journey of doctoral studies in transformational leadership, I am reassured of what I have felt for a long time. Kendra Cherry sums it up well.
"Transformational leaders not only challenge the status quo; they also encourage creativity among followers. The leader encourages followers to explore new ways of doing things and new opportunities to learn.
"Transformational leaders not only challenge the status quo; they also encourage creativity among followers. The leader encourages followers to explore new ways of doing things and new opportunities to learn.
Transformational leadership also involves offering support and encouragement to individual followers. In order to foster supportive relationships, transformational leaders keep lines of communication open so that followers feel free to share ideas and so that leaders can offer direct recognition of the unique contributions of each follower.
Transformational leaders have a clear vision that they are able to articulate to followers. These leaders are also able to help followers experience the same passion and motivation to fulfill these goals.
The transformational leader serve as a role model for followers. Because followers trust and respect the leader, they emulate this individual and internalize his or her ideals."
I would add that the transformational leader would never lose the enthusiasm and fulfillment in the process, the journey. Having said that, a leader can't do it all alone. He or she needs a community, collective and supportive, in order to not genuinely strengthen the integrity of the organization, program or company. Is it easy? Of course not. We, individual adult learners, live and work every day challenged by the physical, spiritual and even hypothetical buildings we shape. May we allow the same buildings to shape us in a way we can be proud of, with trust, faith, enthusiasm and hope.
"Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm" - Winston Churchill.
Reference
Cherry, K. What Is Transformational Leadership? How Transformational Leadership Inspire http://psychology.about.com/
Sunday, February 21, 2016
A letter to my mother... Una carta para mi mamá...
Feb. 21, 2016
I found this draft... written four years ago, in St. Louis, MO.
Now, on the eve of 29 years after your departure, I feel you closer than ever... GRACIAS, por iluminarme y aclararme las dudas que he tenido, através de tu mamá, nuestra Abuela Irma, tu hermana, Surama... y todos los demás que fueron parte de tu historia, y han sido parte de la mia.. Thank you for always being with me, and through so many people, feelings and hunches, even dreams, speak to me so I know you are never far. When I wrote the letter below, I had just outlived you, recently turned 37. Now, older and happier than ever with the woman that I am, I hope and pray you see that you did good... These days you are one with your parents, together after Abuela, so tired of a long life and many years without you, finally went your way in November. I am sure you and your awesome Papi, Abuelo Eddie, are all happy to be together...
Feb 21, 2012
Dear Mama,
Eventhough we "talk" often, in dreams, in memories, in prayers, you know I like to write so I wrote you this letter on the eve of the day that changed my life 25 years ago. Feb. 22, 1987 is a date I will never forget. We both know what happened, so I won't dwell on it- Jerry and I were at school, Papa was out of town. We were called in to talk to Padre Vela, where he told us you were gone. I remember it all very clearly and the days that followed.
But this letter is more to say thank you. While you might think I am still angry at you for leaving us, for not sticking around to see us grow, por tirar la toalla, the answer is no. I am not angry at anyone, for I have grown up and I thank you. For your life, as short as it was, was part of what has defined mine. It has not been easy, especially recent years, but I never doubted your presence and support. I felt your hand on my shoulder as I faced unpleasant news, acts of injustice and challenging obstacles. I felt your hand on my shoulder. I felt your presence and a sense of peace and calmness came over me. I did it. I faced what I had to face with strength, a strength I had no idea I had. Perhaps you gave me the strength you couldn't find yourself to speak up, to say no, enough, that's not right, that is not the life I want to live. Perhaps...
I love to hear stories about you. EVERYONE I have met that knew you, loved you and said you were the life of the party. Sure, there were problems. Nobody is perfect. You were not. I certainly am not, but your imperfection has helped me become a stronger woman, a better mother. No one can take away MY memories of you. I remember the bad, but I also remember the good, and it sure outweighs the bad. You loved us dearly, you were fun. Alcahueta! You'd be lovin' and spoilin' Luis as often as your ability to get off the phone allowed. LOL Yes, like my friend Frankie often says "If your mother were around when they invented cell phones, she'd be on it all day!"
In your own way you have answered many questions I have had for 25 years. Thank you for that. I don't expect people to understand. This is my relationship with you. How different would it be if you were alive, I wonder? I hope, I have dreamed it pretty good. Like I dreamed last September of having girl talk in the kitchen, I was 36 (your age 25 years ago) and YOU were 36. I told you what someone had said to me and you said "tell them to f-off!" yeah! That's my mom, don't mess with her. You were there for me, like when you were there when Luis Enrique was born... I can count with one hand the people that know of Nurse Angie. Nurse Angie was the nurse that was with me during labor when Luis was born. I was in pain, medicated and couldn't take it anymore. Angie was awesome, held my hand, supported me, stayed until Luis came into this world... then she was gone. After an hour or so I asked where she went because I wanted to say thank her. The nurse on duty looked at me and said "there's no Angie working here." And just like that, there was no Angie, ever. Really? Who knows. I was NOT that out of it from the epidural... :) Anyway, thank you for sending Angie to help me out. I honestly couldn't have done it without her... or you.
You were beautiful, young and until the last year, full of life. Your skin darkened, your hair thinned out even more than it had over the years. You weighed less than 100 lbs. and mentally, well, you were in and out. When your tiny body gave in, you gave up. I know now you couldn't take the pressures of the demons that troubled you, the self inflicted pain and the pain others caused in you. I understand. I see you everyday in the mirror. No, I am not you, but I am part of you and you are part of me. Thank you for Abuela Irma, who I talked to a couple of weeks ago. She misses you so. I am sure Abuelo is so happy to be with you. He loved you more! I miss him dearly and think of him everyday.
I could mention others but that's not the point of this letter. This is for you, about you and me, from me. I have not enjoyed being a mother-less daughter, a mother-less mother, but I have enjoyed saying I was, I am your daughter and of memories created when I was little. How you loved Christmas, hosting Abuela y Abuelo every other weekend it felt like. That was the good, outweighing the bad. I am sorry I couldn't help you. What I can do for you is continue to love you, respect you as my mother and defend you with all that love and strength since you are not here to defend yourself, or your memory. You were and are beautiful, smart, talented and I miss you more now than 25 years ago. You will always be my mother and no one can take that away. For that, I am grateful.
Know that your portrait hangs in Luis' room. He sees you every day and knows you are also a guardian angel watching over him. Cuidamelo siempre, como me has cuidado a mi.
Gracias Mama...
Jessica, Gatita... Tata.
I found this draft... written four years ago, in St. Louis, MO.
Now, on the eve of 29 years after your departure, I feel you closer than ever... GRACIAS, por iluminarme y aclararme las dudas que he tenido, através de tu mamá, nuestra Abuela Irma, tu hermana, Surama... y todos los demás que fueron parte de tu historia, y han sido parte de la mia.. Thank you for always being with me, and through so many people, feelings and hunches, even dreams, speak to me so I know you are never far. When I wrote the letter below, I had just outlived you, recently turned 37. Now, older and happier than ever with the woman that I am, I hope and pray you see that you did good... These days you are one with your parents, together after Abuela, so tired of a long life and many years without you, finally went your way in November. I am sure you and your awesome Papi, Abuelo Eddie, are all happy to be together...
Feb 21, 2012
Dear Mama,
Eventhough we "talk" often, in dreams, in memories, in prayers, you know I like to write so I wrote you this letter on the eve of the day that changed my life 25 years ago. Feb. 22, 1987 is a date I will never forget. We both know what happened, so I won't dwell on it- Jerry and I were at school, Papa was out of town. We were called in to talk to Padre Vela, where he told us you were gone. I remember it all very clearly and the days that followed.
But this letter is more to say thank you. While you might think I am still angry at you for leaving us, for not sticking around to see us grow, por tirar la toalla, the answer is no. I am not angry at anyone, for I have grown up and I thank you. For your life, as short as it was, was part of what has defined mine. It has not been easy, especially recent years, but I never doubted your presence and support. I felt your hand on my shoulder as I faced unpleasant news, acts of injustice and challenging obstacles. I felt your hand on my shoulder. I felt your presence and a sense of peace and calmness came over me. I did it. I faced what I had to face with strength, a strength I had no idea I had. Perhaps you gave me the strength you couldn't find yourself to speak up, to say no, enough, that's not right, that is not the life I want to live. Perhaps...
I love to hear stories about you. EVERYONE I have met that knew you, loved you and said you were the life of the party. Sure, there were problems. Nobody is perfect. You were not. I certainly am not, but your imperfection has helped me become a stronger woman, a better mother. No one can take away MY memories of you. I remember the bad, but I also remember the good, and it sure outweighs the bad. You loved us dearly, you were fun. Alcahueta! You'd be lovin' and spoilin' Luis as often as your ability to get off the phone allowed. LOL Yes, like my friend Frankie often says "If your mother were around when they invented cell phones, she'd be on it all day!"
In your own way you have answered many questions I have had for 25 years. Thank you for that. I don't expect people to understand. This is my relationship with you. How different would it be if you were alive, I wonder? I hope, I have dreamed it pretty good. Like I dreamed last September of having girl talk in the kitchen, I was 36 (your age 25 years ago) and YOU were 36. I told you what someone had said to me and you said "tell them to f-off!" yeah! That's my mom, don't mess with her. You were there for me, like when you were there when Luis Enrique was born... I can count with one hand the people that know of Nurse Angie. Nurse Angie was the nurse that was with me during labor when Luis was born. I was in pain, medicated and couldn't take it anymore. Angie was awesome, held my hand, supported me, stayed until Luis came into this world... then she was gone. After an hour or so I asked where she went because I wanted to say thank her. The nurse on duty looked at me and said "there's no Angie working here." And just like that, there was no Angie, ever. Really? Who knows. I was NOT that out of it from the epidural... :) Anyway, thank you for sending Angie to help me out. I honestly couldn't have done it without her... or you.
You were beautiful, young and until the last year, full of life. Your skin darkened, your hair thinned out even more than it had over the years. You weighed less than 100 lbs. and mentally, well, you were in and out. When your tiny body gave in, you gave up. I know now you couldn't take the pressures of the demons that troubled you, the self inflicted pain and the pain others caused in you. I understand. I see you everyday in the mirror. No, I am not you, but I am part of you and you are part of me. Thank you for Abuela Irma, who I talked to a couple of weeks ago. She misses you so. I am sure Abuelo is so happy to be with you. He loved you more! I miss him dearly and think of him everyday.
I could mention others but that's not the point of this letter. This is for you, about you and me, from me. I have not enjoyed being a mother-less daughter, a mother-less mother, but I have enjoyed saying I was, I am your daughter and of memories created when I was little. How you loved Christmas, hosting Abuela y Abuelo every other weekend it felt like. That was the good, outweighing the bad. I am sorry I couldn't help you. What I can do for you is continue to love you, respect you as my mother and defend you with all that love and strength since you are not here to defend yourself, or your memory. You were and are beautiful, smart, talented and I miss you more now than 25 years ago. You will always be my mother and no one can take that away. For that, I am grateful.
Know that your portrait hangs in Luis' room. He sees you every day and knows you are also a guardian angel watching over him. Cuidamelo siempre, como me has cuidado a mi.
Gracias Mama...
Jessica, Gatita... Tata.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
One word: Thank you!
How to sum up a year? How is it possible to describe an array of experiences, emotions, reactions, rejections, all valid, all appreciated, even in the midst of the fog they might have emerged from. Since the 41st year of my life began exactly two months ago, I will spare you the redundancy that would be the lessons learned during the previous and the awesomeness that has manifested from that moment on... All mostly still in effect, so for a recollection of the last year accounts of the mis-adventures of Jessica, see post "525,600 minutes." You won't be disappointed.
The latter part of 2015 was a bit rough, I won't sugar-coated. I, we, lost loved ones. And you know what, it was painful. In fact, it sucked! These were people of faith who lived their lives in love, for family, dedicated to careers, as wives, mothers, grandmothers, mentors, friends, teachers, priests, giants and scholars, all with the biggest hearts one can only imagine. For those of us who were touched, nurtured, taught, challenged and loved by all of them, we are blessed. We are better people then we were a month ago, six months, a year ago. So, thank you.
Thank you... for the laughter.
Thank you... for the tears you wiped away.
Thank you.... for the questions I had trouble answering but made me think.
Thank you... for listening when that is all that was needed at the time. No response, no critique, just to listen.
Thank you... for challenging my decisions, for YOU KNEW they weren't really what my heart wanted.
Thank you... for helping me be patient.
Thank you... for reminding us to simply observe and discern; to slow down and have faith. The truth always comes out.
Thank you... for my friends, my colleagues and intellectual equals who fill my mind and heart with the joy of learning, and quench my thirst for knowledge, while nurturing the heart with love.
Thank you... for the children in our lives and the smiles they bring to our souls, for they are "us" and we rejoice in seeing them grow into their own selves, as better versions of ourselves! ;-)
Thank you ... for new days and new year's eves we can celebrate in love and life, in prayer and in sincere gratefulness so we never, ever, take for granted a day in our lives. Each day is a gift and to share that gift with our loved ones is a blessing.
It's only January 7, 2016, and already so many wonderful things are happening. They can be as simple as a "good morning" or a "thank you" or a "God bless you" or an "I love you"-- all wonderful and all real. No resolutions here, perhaps only to be reminded to enjoy each day and see the good in what it brings, regardless of its challenges. Oh yeah, and homework, now that doctoral studies are HERE. Yes, that too is real! ;-) Take this year and make it yours. DO IT! Have faith and patience and let that be star that guides your way...
Monday, November 23, 2015
Abuela...
For the first twelve years of my life I knew and loved one Abuela. I had another Abuela; one that became a constant present in my formative years, especially when I was a college student, celebrating my accomplishments, being a special partner-in-shopping-crime during the holiday visits, and never, ever letting me go back to school without a new bottle of shampoo. That was Abuela Gloria, the life of the party, gone too soon, who I loved dearly.
However, this entry, is about the other Abuela. The first. The only one and only, Abuela Irma. I stress that she was the first one because for reasons only too complicated for me to understand at the time, she and my grandfather Eddie, my mom's parents, were the set of grandparents we were in constant contact with. And, I mean, constant. Every weekend, if not every-other weekend, holiday and summer vacation, my brother and I were shipped to Mayaguez, to stay with them. That was our second home growing up. The only other home we felt safe, loved, taken care off and were we knew we'd hit the jackpot with every visit to "THE MALL!" My brother and I agreed, so many years ago, that they were the only grandparents of our childhood. They represented a different life, a happy life and many of the happiest of moments around my mother's memory.
Thursday, November 12, red-eye to San Juan to see Abuela. My cousin called. After the fall that broke her hip and dislocated her 95 year old arm, they had to call 911 and take her to the hospital. Blood count low, lots of pain and not eating well. What more to do... I had to go. I went. For the next four days I sat by her side, only to leave her for a few hours of sleep and re-grouping.
The time for re-group came by means of sitting with my aunt, my mother's younger sister, and talk about life. Stories told many times before brought laughter and tears. Stories never before shared stormed through with rage, frustration and the temptation to resurrect and perpetuate pain felt so many years ago when my mother's untimely death changed all of our lives forever.
Abuela, we (including my cousins), all agreed was the strongest, most stubborn, pain in the ass from la playa de Humacao. She married one of the smartest, most handsomest from the near by, Naguabo, Eddie Ortiz and had three daughters. My grandfather, my favorite person in the whole world, was a college professor, scientist, who could have been the most renowned in his field, instead, settled for teaching and family. Their middle daughter, Geraldina, my mother, was like the Pipe Piper. Our house, Hamelin. Everyone gathered there for birthdays, weekend visits, joyous occasions, post-illness care.
From the other two sisters, five more grandchildren joined the party and on rare occasions, Abuelo Eddie would pack up his Toyota Corolla, with all of us in tow for what seemed the most exciting adventure of our lives. We'd go to the movies, shop, they both, in their own ways, taught us lessons still today, very much part of our core.
Abuelo loved Classical music. He played the mandolin, la mandolina, ever so sweetly, the sound of the strings and the melody that stemmed from them, embedded in my mind. I now realize that I have not heard a mandolina being played until I went to a movie, Captain Corelli's Mandolin. All I could do was close my eyes and not see the captain, the scenery, but be transported to the living room in the house in Mayaguez, where Abuelo Eddie stood and played, while smiling, winking in approval of my awe at him. He was my hero. The bust of Beethoven proudly displayed on the very top shelf of his bookshelf, where not only the Classics were featured, but volumes and volumes of the PDR (Physicians Desk Reference), American Journal of Physics and publications from the American Institute of Physics. His Ph.D in Physics diploma from Texas A & M University, on the wall. On occasion we'd pause to catch a baseball game... He a Cubs fan, I a Met, 'nuff said! ;-)
Abuela, in the kitchen, cooking, always cooking. Arroz con carne molida; arroz con salsita; lasagna, and the best, and personal favorite: piñon!!!--for those of you who are not familiar with what piñon is, think lasagna with sweet platanos instead of pasta, and seasoned ground beef, coated with egg and cheese. Heaven, I mean, heaven!
There are two great aspects of Jessica's life I owe to Abuela: my love for coffee and my opinion of bicycles: painful and unnecessary. ;-) I don't know how old I was, honestly, but I do have vivid memories of drinking coffee (really, sweet milk and a hint of coffee, don't panic!) in the bottle! So, I was young. As I got older, she knew that she had to brew some fresh coffee before I would have to ask. To this day, I make and drink coffee in the afternoon because of her. The bike thing, well, it's no big deal, really. For one I was never really interested in riding bicycles and that was perpetuated when Abuela taught me how to roller-skate! I had a pair of white, red laced, red-wheels, high tops that were awesome. She would hold my hands and pull from one direction, then push me forward the other direction until I could do it on my own. We started indoors. The hallway leading from the bedrooms to the living rooms was long and had a plastic (yes, plastic!!! LOL) rug so made it "safe" for me to master the skating with little damage to my knees or butt. After a few hours confident in my roller-skating skills, we ventured outside. To the sidewalks!!!!!! The sidewalk by their house was flat, not gravelly, and made it for a very smooth, and FAST, ride. I LOVED IT! A couple of bruised marks here and there well worth it. Gracias, Abuela. You taught me how to soar! And bikes, overrated. ;-)
Now here we are, you are still here, but in a lot of pain. Your body shutting down, your spirit saying "enough." Your strength, admirable. You buried a daughter, faced life after that and remained loyal to the memory instilled in us. When your Eddie left you, you were never the same. Ten years since then and the color of your hair turned silver gray, your walk, slowed down and your tears flowed more often then before. Yet, during every visit, you still found a way to tell us a joke, make noises like sheep --sorry, folks, cousins will get it!!-- take my hands and tell me how much they looked like mama's, while studying the birthmarks on my face, like hers, the keloid scars on my arm and chest. When I walked in wearing sunglasses and my hair back, your face lit up because I look like mama now. It made you happy, while it made you sad. You never let me leave the house empty-handed, including the $20 for gas, slipped ever so carefully and quietly so no one would notice. You have been a pillar of strength and even though I have not been there with you every day, all these years, I hope you I thought of you every day.
I wait for news now, as Thanksgiving looms near. I thank God for my brother, who traveled from California, and went to see you. I am in debt for my mother's sister and family, who have been taking care of you all these years, as they took care of Abuelo. My cousins who, with me last week, shared laughs and tears while with you in the hospital. Te quiero viejita. Nunca lo dijiste, pero lo escribiste muchas veces. Tus cartas (con los $20!) o tarjetas de cumpleaños me llegaban a la Universidad, al campamento, al trabajo- siempre. Te queremos mucho, Abu y Aba.... asi firmabas. Haz estado en mi corazón y lo seguiras estando... Siempre.
However, this entry, is about the other Abuela. The first. The only one and only, Abuela Irma. I stress that she was the first one because for reasons only too complicated for me to understand at the time, she and my grandfather Eddie, my mom's parents, were the set of grandparents we were in constant contact with. And, I mean, constant. Every weekend, if not every-other weekend, holiday and summer vacation, my brother and I were shipped to Mayaguez, to stay with them. That was our second home growing up. The only other home we felt safe, loved, taken care off and were we knew we'd hit the jackpot with every visit to "THE MALL!" My brother and I agreed, so many years ago, that they were the only grandparents of our childhood. They represented a different life, a happy life and many of the happiest of moments around my mother's memory.
Thursday, November 12, red-eye to San Juan to see Abuela. My cousin called. After the fall that broke her hip and dislocated her 95 year old arm, they had to call 911 and take her to the hospital. Blood count low, lots of pain and not eating well. What more to do... I had to go. I went. For the next four days I sat by her side, only to leave her for a few hours of sleep and re-grouping.
The time for re-group came by means of sitting with my aunt, my mother's younger sister, and talk about life. Stories told many times before brought laughter and tears. Stories never before shared stormed through with rage, frustration and the temptation to resurrect and perpetuate pain felt so many years ago when my mother's untimely death changed all of our lives forever.
Abuela, we (including my cousins), all agreed was the strongest, most stubborn, pain in the ass from la playa de Humacao. She married one of the smartest, most handsomest from the near by, Naguabo, Eddie Ortiz and had three daughters. My grandfather, my favorite person in the whole world, was a college professor, scientist, who could have been the most renowned in his field, instead, settled for teaching and family. Their middle daughter, Geraldina, my mother, was like the Pipe Piper. Our house, Hamelin. Everyone gathered there for birthdays, weekend visits, joyous occasions, post-illness care.
From the other two sisters, five more grandchildren joined the party and on rare occasions, Abuelo Eddie would pack up his Toyota Corolla, with all of us in tow for what seemed the most exciting adventure of our lives. We'd go to the movies, shop, they both, in their own ways, taught us lessons still today, very much part of our core.
Abuelo loved Classical music. He played the mandolin, la mandolina, ever so sweetly, the sound of the strings and the melody that stemmed from them, embedded in my mind. I now realize that I have not heard a mandolina being played until I went to a movie, Captain Corelli's Mandolin. All I could do was close my eyes and not see the captain, the scenery, but be transported to the living room in the house in Mayaguez, where Abuelo Eddie stood and played, while smiling, winking in approval of my awe at him. He was my hero. The bust of Beethoven proudly displayed on the very top shelf of his bookshelf, where not only the Classics were featured, but volumes and volumes of the PDR (Physicians Desk Reference), American Journal of Physics and publications from the American Institute of Physics. His Ph.D in Physics diploma from Texas A & M University, on the wall. On occasion we'd pause to catch a baseball game... He a Cubs fan, I a Met, 'nuff said! ;-)
Abuela, in the kitchen, cooking, always cooking. Arroz con carne molida; arroz con salsita; lasagna, and the best, and personal favorite: piñon!!!--for those of you who are not familiar with what piñon is, think lasagna with sweet platanos instead of pasta, and seasoned ground beef, coated with egg and cheese. Heaven, I mean, heaven!
There are two great aspects of Jessica's life I owe to Abuela: my love for coffee and my opinion of bicycles: painful and unnecessary. ;-) I don't know how old I was, honestly, but I do have vivid memories of drinking coffee (really, sweet milk and a hint of coffee, don't panic!) in the bottle! So, I was young. As I got older, she knew that she had to brew some fresh coffee before I would have to ask. To this day, I make and drink coffee in the afternoon because of her. The bike thing, well, it's no big deal, really. For one I was never really interested in riding bicycles and that was perpetuated when Abuela taught me how to roller-skate! I had a pair of white, red laced, red-wheels, high tops that were awesome. She would hold my hands and pull from one direction, then push me forward the other direction until I could do it on my own. We started indoors. The hallway leading from the bedrooms to the living rooms was long and had a plastic (yes, plastic!!! LOL) rug so made it "safe" for me to master the skating with little damage to my knees or butt. After a few hours confident in my roller-skating skills, we ventured outside. To the sidewalks!!!!!! The sidewalk by their house was flat, not gravelly, and made it for a very smooth, and FAST, ride. I LOVED IT! A couple of bruised marks here and there well worth it. Gracias, Abuela. You taught me how to soar! And bikes, overrated. ;-)
Now here we are, you are still here, but in a lot of pain. Your body shutting down, your spirit saying "enough." Your strength, admirable. You buried a daughter, faced life after that and remained loyal to the memory instilled in us. When your Eddie left you, you were never the same. Ten years since then and the color of your hair turned silver gray, your walk, slowed down and your tears flowed more often then before. Yet, during every visit, you still found a way to tell us a joke, make noises like sheep --sorry, folks, cousins will get it!!-- take my hands and tell me how much they looked like mama's, while studying the birthmarks on my face, like hers, the keloid scars on my arm and chest. When I walked in wearing sunglasses and my hair back, your face lit up because I look like mama now. It made you happy, while it made you sad. You never let me leave the house empty-handed, including the $20 for gas, slipped ever so carefully and quietly so no one would notice. You have been a pillar of strength and even though I have not been there with you every day, all these years, I hope you I thought of you every day.
I wait for news now, as Thanksgiving looms near. I thank God for my brother, who traveled from California, and went to see you. I am in debt for my mother's sister and family, who have been taking care of you all these years, as they took care of Abuelo. My cousins who, with me last week, shared laughs and tears while with you in the hospital. Te quiero viejita. Nunca lo dijiste, pero lo escribiste muchas veces. Tus cartas (con los $20!) o tarjetas de cumpleaños me llegaban a la Universidad, al campamento, al trabajo- siempre. Te queremos mucho, Abu y Aba.... asi firmabas. Haz estado en mi corazón y lo seguiras estando... Siempre.
Monday, November 9, 2015
525,600 minutes....
"525,600 minutes, 525, 000 moments so dear, 525,600 minutes, how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee...." Those of you who know the song can sing along, and we can keep singing for as long as we like because this song can capture so many emotions, perhaps all the emotions one can possibly experience in a year. Love, life, death, loss, joy.
A year ago I wrote about all the lessons I had learned in life, as I approached my looming, gloom and doomed alleged expiration date of 40. Alas, I made it. I survived. I lived another year and guess what? I lived to tell about it... or I will talk about it. But where to start. Hmmm, that is the question.
Throughout this fine year that has been my 40th on this earth I have expressed many pleasantries, quite positively positive when it came to my birthday. As the big day approached I recall the nervousness and anxiety of how to celebrate it, such a milestone. Chuckle. New adventures and opportunities. Good people around you and wine, what else does one need, right? ;)
Life happens and it brings with it a little bit of everything! Instances and events brought on by life came in the unexpected, yet calculated form of arguments and misunderstandings, trips planned, flights scheduled, flights cancelled, birthday parties and weddings, illnesses and hospitals stays, more arguments, and the ever-present fear of what if... What if I told the truth about how I really feel? What if I say no and create more tension? What if I fight harder for what I want and what I love? What if I would have done things differently? More calculated, yet unexpected circumstances included a difficult transition for a boy into middle school and all the anxiety, stress and fear of disappointment, morphing suddenly, and almost seamlessly, into a more sharp and responsible young man. A-ha! There is light at the end of that tunnel, at least!
Relationships severed; compartmentalized after the harsh reality check that no matter what was done, said, or intended, it fell on deaf ears. Messages were sent, loud and clear in the silence of the void and the hollow echo of the darkness. A soul, a heart, torn to little pieces laid almost life-less on the ground.
Yet, there was a light. In the darkest of nights and saddest of moments, a bright, tiny spot inviting to the eye wanting to be looked at, to be touched. A voice calling out and saying "that's it, get up, let's go!" That, and the unsolicited winks from heaven that manifested themselves as friendly text messages, phone calls and even better, Skype calls, from friends who just want to say hello. Just that. No agenda, no reason, just to check in on you and see how you are. THAT boosts any soul and along with a soft, gentle shove needed to then look in the mirror, we say to ourselves as we face our fears and may look our worse, I am here, I am alive, I am blessed. There's work to do and people depend on me! There are so many aspects of life to be grateful for and so we should be. And so, I am...
This past year brought an incredible opportunity for perspective and the fear of turning 40 only rectified, throughout the year, what was slightly lost: direction. I had forgotten a few things about myself and of myself. I was steam-rolled and whiplashed into remembering where my passions lay, what my plans were, and with an open heart and mind, I had no choice to release it all into the Universe.
It is incredible how life works and when you stop fighting the fight that is not having faith is the plan that the Divine, God, Allah, Buddha, whoever you worship, has for you. I had to get out of the way, of my own way and give more into my faith. And with that, I close what has been an incredible year of many blessings, many indeed, and I thank those who were part of it. Students thanked me for my work with them, parents advocated and supported my ministry with their children, colleagues extended a professional and mentoring hand, which I am and always be grateful for. Friends, oh my friends, I have no words to express how much I love you- and you know who you are!- for you have been with me when you did not have to, when you were not asked to, and for no reason other than to be a friend. You pealed me off the ground when I was stuck with Crazy Glue and lifted me up like a crane that builds skyscrapers. I am better because of you and for you I will do the same. That is a promise.
As the 41st year begins, new-old friendships rekindle, new-old plans revamp, new-old goals are set. New-old sass makes a comeback with a sparkle in the eye and a red lipstick to match! New trips are planned! Remember I always have that extra suitcase packed, just in case. ;-)
Essentially, the moral of the story is, a year can begin one way and end a totally different one, never knowing what curve balls life will throw at us. What can we do about it?? Get out of the way and let it happen. Trust in God, the Divine and let go. If it doesn't feel right, if it doesn't flow, as much as it hurts we must let it go and let us go - let go of the remorse, of the guilt, of the pain. Forgive ourselves as much as we feel we need to forgive others, for the forgiveness in ourselves come from not being honest with our deep feelings, which are our own and no one else's.
"525,600 minutes... how do you measure a year? In truths that she learned, Or in times that he cried;
In bridges he burned, Or the way that she died!" It's time now to see that the story never ends, life goes on and WHAT DO WE DO WITH IT? We mourn and grieve our losses, yes. We celebrate our joys, double yes.
Thank you is a word that comes to mind right now. I am grateful, and grateful I will always be for this last year. But even more grateful for what is yet to come.
A year ago I wrote about all the lessons I had learned in life, as I approached my looming, gloom and doomed alleged expiration date of 40. Alas, I made it. I survived. I lived another year and guess what? I lived to tell about it... or I will talk about it. But where to start. Hmmm, that is the question.
Throughout this fine year that has been my 40th on this earth I have expressed many pleasantries, quite positively positive when it came to my birthday. As the big day approached I recall the nervousness and anxiety of how to celebrate it, such a milestone. Chuckle. New adventures and opportunities. Good people around you and wine, what else does one need, right? ;)
Life happens and it brings with it a little bit of everything! Instances and events brought on by life came in the unexpected, yet calculated form of arguments and misunderstandings, trips planned, flights scheduled, flights cancelled, birthday parties and weddings, illnesses and hospitals stays, more arguments, and the ever-present fear of what if... What if I told the truth about how I really feel? What if I say no and create more tension? What if I fight harder for what I want and what I love? What if I would have done things differently? More calculated, yet unexpected circumstances included a difficult transition for a boy into middle school and all the anxiety, stress and fear of disappointment, morphing suddenly, and almost seamlessly, into a more sharp and responsible young man. A-ha! There is light at the end of that tunnel, at least!
Relationships severed; compartmentalized after the harsh reality check that no matter what was done, said, or intended, it fell on deaf ears. Messages were sent, loud and clear in the silence of the void and the hollow echo of the darkness. A soul, a heart, torn to little pieces laid almost life-less on the ground.
Yet, there was a light. In the darkest of nights and saddest of moments, a bright, tiny spot inviting to the eye wanting to be looked at, to be touched. A voice calling out and saying "that's it, get up, let's go!" That, and the unsolicited winks from heaven that manifested themselves as friendly text messages, phone calls and even better, Skype calls, from friends who just want to say hello. Just that. No agenda, no reason, just to check in on you and see how you are. THAT boosts any soul and along with a soft, gentle shove needed to then look in the mirror, we say to ourselves as we face our fears and may look our worse, I am here, I am alive, I am blessed. There's work to do and people depend on me! There are so many aspects of life to be grateful for and so we should be. And so, I am...
This past year brought an incredible opportunity for perspective and the fear of turning 40 only rectified, throughout the year, what was slightly lost: direction. I had forgotten a few things about myself and of myself. I was steam-rolled and whiplashed into remembering where my passions lay, what my plans were, and with an open heart and mind, I had no choice to release it all into the Universe.
It is incredible how life works and when you stop fighting the fight that is not having faith is the plan that the Divine, God, Allah, Buddha, whoever you worship, has for you. I had to get out of the way, of my own way and give more into my faith. And with that, I close what has been an incredible year of many blessings, many indeed, and I thank those who were part of it. Students thanked me for my work with them, parents advocated and supported my ministry with their children, colleagues extended a professional and mentoring hand, which I am and always be grateful for. Friends, oh my friends, I have no words to express how much I love you- and you know who you are!- for you have been with me when you did not have to, when you were not asked to, and for no reason other than to be a friend. You pealed me off the ground when I was stuck with Crazy Glue and lifted me up like a crane that builds skyscrapers. I am better because of you and for you I will do the same. That is a promise.
As the 41st year begins, new-old friendships rekindle, new-old plans revamp, new-old goals are set. New-old sass makes a comeback with a sparkle in the eye and a red lipstick to match! New trips are planned! Remember I always have that extra suitcase packed, just in case. ;-)
Essentially, the moral of the story is, a year can begin one way and end a totally different one, never knowing what curve balls life will throw at us. What can we do about it?? Get out of the way and let it happen. Trust in God, the Divine and let go. If it doesn't feel right, if it doesn't flow, as much as it hurts we must let it go and let us go - let go of the remorse, of the guilt, of the pain. Forgive ourselves as much as we feel we need to forgive others, for the forgiveness in ourselves come from not being honest with our deep feelings, which are our own and no one else's.
"525,600 minutes... how do you measure a year? In truths that she learned, Or in times that he cried;
In bridges he burned, Or the way that she died!" It's time now to see that the story never ends, life goes on and WHAT DO WE DO WITH IT? We mourn and grieve our losses, yes. We celebrate our joys, double yes.
Thank you is a word that comes to mind right now. I am grateful, and grateful I will always be for this last year. But even more grateful for what is yet to come.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Life...
My awesome and blissfully sassy friend, Kelly, gave us a warning: September is coming in with a BANG! Umm, ya think? You were dead on, sister. Call it a aligning of planets, blue moons and red moons rising, zodiac signs going postal, September has brought quite the cocktail of events, mixed in with emotions that only time, patience and prayer can help us make sense off.
In one side of the world loved ones are closing chapters in their lives in order to open new ones. Or in their case, boxes. I hear about moving plans, reminiscing of times long gone, but never forgotten, while binging on "fall cleaning" when we praise the heavens for the gods of Glad. I have done my share of moving from town to town, out of the country, back into the country, across state lines, and back again... Been there, done that. So done with it... However, I know how it feels to throw away little memories once believed to be the most cherished, the receipt from the concert tickets, the program from the play, the movie stub. Then you find the cards. Oh the cards from that special someone who took the time to pick one from the pretty, glittery, bright Hallmark section- not the .99c one- and wrote words of love, or sympathy, or encouragement, or just hello.
Moving provides a venue to pitch and cleanse, to close and open, to plan and re-direct, re-invent, re-connect, re-new, all mixed in with tears of loss and joy, at the same time.
Another corner celebrates the beginning of an academic year, an adventure in adulthood that quickly challenges the teenager inside still needing mom to hug ever so tightly in the mornings. Ah, college. We long for independence, yet can't figure out how to do laundry. Mom/dad on speed-dial. And yes for some, a free ride on a roller-coaster of emotions doomed to derail unless perspective is kept in check. One day at a time, I have learned to say, and will continue to convey that message to students near and far, while the planner in me needs to carve out the next ten years of my life by 3:00 p.m. today. ;) Patience, prayer and reflection on what has been, what is and what needs to be.
Careers change and decisions to switch jobs come in like a bang for some. Why? Well, because it's time. We are meant to evolve, to soak up knowledge that can (hopefully) fine tune our skills, whatever those may be. Why not use those skills, gifts if I dare proclaim, to make a difference, impact the community, better yourself and feel fulfilled that you, the precious YOU, has a purpose and a responsibility to be present in this world. And, to be happy, loving what you do, doing what you love.
Everyone is different, there are NO two identically equal human beings in this world. Some of us get along beautifully, some of us, not so much. That's OK. It is imperative that we honor who we are as individuals. We can engage in conversations of this and that, argue for the sake of arguing and agree to disagree. BUT, and that's a very BIG BUT (hehehe), we must never disrespect one another. Even if we don't see eye to eye, there's a line that must never be crossed. Sad are the days when we find ourselves flirting with that same line and then... BANG! It happens, we crossed it. We said something we should not have said, did something we know in our hearts we shouldn't, not because we didn't want to do it, but because it disrespected the other. DISCLAIMER ... and spoken from experience: if you are the one crossing the line and are truly sorry, JUST SAY SO and mean it! I have owned my mistakes and have learned, boy, have I learned from them.
Family members and friends reunite after years of not seeing each other. What a gift, a privilege and a blessing. This is certainly a ride I can share and be part of in any amusement park. The stories, the memories of casual days at strict uniform-clad high school, first love and heartbreaks, bad (oh so bad!!) hair days and how some of us at 40 never looked (and felt) better!! Thank you anti-wrinkle cream, I love you so. The tears shared, the unconditional love and support felt by these friends, who are truly the family we choose. This is what people mean, when the best things in life are free. Indeed they are: love, support, peace, faith, joy, respect.
Seriously, September... it feels like March 'cause you have come in like a lion. Please, I beg you, leave like a lamb. Some of us are exhausted and need a break. Help us save some of the energy to deal with unforeseen life events and curves balls quickly approaching for a later time. Let us spread the love of drama for times when there is not a whole lot happening.
Ok, it's September 22. Only a few more days to go. Can we make it??? I think we can. We stumble, we fall, but we get up and we move on...
Careers change and decisions to switch jobs come in like a bang for some. Why? Well, because it's time. We are meant to evolve, to soak up knowledge that can (hopefully) fine tune our skills, whatever those may be. Why not use those skills, gifts if I dare proclaim, to make a difference, impact the community, better yourself and feel fulfilled that you, the precious YOU, has a purpose and a responsibility to be present in this world. And, to be happy, loving what you do, doing what you love.
Everyone is different, there are NO two identically equal human beings in this world. Some of us get along beautifully, some of us, not so much. That's OK. It is imperative that we honor who we are as individuals. We can engage in conversations of this and that, argue for the sake of arguing and agree to disagree. BUT, and that's a very BIG BUT (hehehe), we must never disrespect one another. Even if we don't see eye to eye, there's a line that must never be crossed. Sad are the days when we find ourselves flirting with that same line and then... BANG! It happens, we crossed it. We said something we should not have said, did something we know in our hearts we shouldn't, not because we didn't want to do it, but because it disrespected the other. DISCLAIMER ... and spoken from experience: if you are the one crossing the line and are truly sorry, JUST SAY SO and mean it! I have owned my mistakes and have learned, boy, have I learned from them.
Family members and friends reunite after years of not seeing each other. What a gift, a privilege and a blessing. This is certainly a ride I can share and be part of in any amusement park. The stories, the memories of casual days at strict uniform-clad high school, first love and heartbreaks, bad (oh so bad!!) hair days and how some of us at 40 never looked (and felt) better!! Thank you anti-wrinkle cream, I love you so. The tears shared, the unconditional love and support felt by these friends, who are truly the family we choose. This is what people mean, when the best things in life are free. Indeed they are: love, support, peace, faith, joy, respect.
Seriously, September... it feels like March 'cause you have come in like a lion. Please, I beg you, leave like a lamb. Some of us are exhausted and need a break. Help us save some of the energy to deal with unforeseen life events and curves balls quickly approaching for a later time. Let us spread the love of drama for times when there is not a whole lot happening.
Ok, it's September 22. Only a few more days to go. Can we make it??? I think we can. We stumble, we fall, but we get up and we move on...
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
An extra suitcase packed, just in case... part tres! An ode to friendship.
Over a month since my last post and two weeks to the day I flew to a reunion with some of my favorite people in the world... But, how to begin to find the precise words to describe what I saw, felt and experienced so many years ago that, suddenly, came back as if stepping into a Marty McFly's Delorean. It was 1996 all over again, but with better looks. ;)
For a full recall of all the adventures, shenanigans and life-changing events of the 1996-98 "living out of a suitcase on a bus" tour of Life as Jess, see the first post titled "An extra suitcase packed just in case." And yes, there's a sequel. See, it's so meaningful and special, I had to keep writing about it.
The organization that gathered over 20 countries and introduced many of us to the world in order to go change it turned 50 and on a whim and thanks to wonderfully generous and loving friends, I said OK. I flew to the reunion and smiled from beginning to end-- CAVEAT-- there were the times when the smile was not so there, being under the weather and balancing the emotional roller-coaster. Nevertheless, every single part of my time with the people that I came to know and love almost 20 years ago felt the same: joyful.
Here's the thing... I think (I hope) everyone can relate to at least one thing, regardless of understanding or not what we experienced traveling with Up With People. We made life-long friends and traveled to many countries to learn and appreciate people and cultures. Hopefully, we all (you and me) have been blessed with those friends who touch our lives in ways we can't explain. We just know. Our hearts know and that's all the matters. How one person (or 20!) connect with you might be different than how that person connects with me, but if the connection is so strong, supportive, loving, challenging, yet loyal, it's yours to own and to protect. And, to celebrate.
That's what we did.. .My friends and I didn't go sight seeing, didn't spend a lot of money, could not care less about petty and unnecessary drama, (unless the drama was affecting us and then we became furious protectors!), we talked... We told stories, caught up on our lives, children, careers, gains and losses, relationships highs and lows. Deaths, births, depression, new beginnings. We laughed, we cried. We sang, we danced. Some of us actually got to meet in person for the first time after years of being "pen-pals." Again, joyful.
We celebrated our time together, our bus dates and host families and honored how each us individually contributed to the greater good... and that greater good, the organization that brought us together, we praised and pledged to support.
As we sat in the midst of 3,000 alumni gathered for this reunion's many evening performances, a reminder of lyrics that still haunt us, openly inviting to consider if race and ethnicity are the problem in society... "Does it really matter?" Does the color of our skin, the language that we speak, and the beliefs each of us grew up with matter when we are talking about peace, our communities, our children, humanity. Does it matter at all... And if it does, ask yourself what color is God's skin? Maybe you'll find the answer...
So, thank you, friends...you lift me up when I was down, you challenged me when I was complacent. You invited me to do the same with no judgement or hard-feelings. You invite me to join you in Italy for Spring break ---some day, Katia, some day!!! You make me laugh uncontrollably and you allow me to believe in you and your gifts and talents. I have experienced unconditional love and I am a better person for it.
May you all have the opportunity to NEVER EVER take for granted those who make your heart smile, even if you haven't seen them in twenty years, but somehow, the universe conspires (heheheheh!) to put them in your path. And, hey, if it takes you having an extra suitcase packed, just in case the universe knocks at your door, open the door and GO! When tomorrow comes, together, we'll be there...
For a full recall of all the adventures, shenanigans and life-changing events of the 1996-98 "living out of a suitcase on a bus" tour of Life as Jess, see the first post titled "An extra suitcase packed just in case." And yes, there's a sequel. See, it's so meaningful and special, I had to keep writing about it.
The organization that gathered over 20 countries and introduced many of us to the world in order to go change it turned 50 and on a whim and thanks to wonderfully generous and loving friends, I said OK. I flew to the reunion and smiled from beginning to end-- CAVEAT-- there were the times when the smile was not so there, being under the weather and balancing the emotional roller-coaster. Nevertheless, every single part of my time with the people that I came to know and love almost 20 years ago felt the same: joyful.
Here's the thing... I think (I hope) everyone can relate to at least one thing, regardless of understanding or not what we experienced traveling with Up With People. We made life-long friends and traveled to many countries to learn and appreciate people and cultures. Hopefully, we all (you and me) have been blessed with those friends who touch our lives in ways we can't explain. We just know. Our hearts know and that's all the matters. How one person (or 20!) connect with you might be different than how that person connects with me, but if the connection is so strong, supportive, loving, challenging, yet loyal, it's yours to own and to protect. And, to celebrate.
That's what we did.. .My friends and I didn't go sight seeing, didn't spend a lot of money, could not care less about petty and unnecessary drama, (unless the drama was affecting us and then we became furious protectors!), we talked... We told stories, caught up on our lives, children, careers, gains and losses, relationships highs and lows. Deaths, births, depression, new beginnings. We laughed, we cried. We sang, we danced. Some of us actually got to meet in person for the first time after years of being "pen-pals." Again, joyful.
We celebrated our time together, our bus dates and host families and honored how each us individually contributed to the greater good... and that greater good, the organization that brought us together, we praised and pledged to support.
As we sat in the midst of 3,000 alumni gathered for this reunion's many evening performances, a reminder of lyrics that still haunt us, openly inviting to consider if race and ethnicity are the problem in society... "Does it really matter?" Does the color of our skin, the language that we speak, and the beliefs each of us grew up with matter when we are talking about peace, our communities, our children, humanity. Does it matter at all... And if it does, ask yourself what color is God's skin? Maybe you'll find the answer...
So, thank you, friends...you lift me up when I was down, you challenged me when I was complacent. You invited me to do the same with no judgement or hard-feelings. You invite me to join you in Italy for Spring break ---some day, Katia, some day!!! You make me laugh uncontrollably and you allow me to believe in you and your gifts and talents. I have experienced unconditional love and I am a better person for it.
May you all have the opportunity to NEVER EVER take for granted those who make your heart smile, even if you haven't seen them in twenty years, but somehow, the universe conspires (heheheheh!) to put them in your path. And, hey, if it takes you having an extra suitcase packed, just in case the universe knocks at your door, open the door and GO! When tomorrow comes, together, we'll be there...
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Maybes to Can-Dos... Get out and live!
On a whim, the Saturday of this past Memorial Day weekend, I
took a chance and decided to road trip, along with my soon to be 13 yr old son,
to Baltimore, Md. You see, my cousin’s
daughter was graduating from college, and well, Baltimore was less than 8 hrs
away. Soon, flashbacks from 2011-2012
flooded my mind with memories of the many, many, many weekends I drove from
Dayton to Saint Louis, a boring, yet predictable, 8 hr drive.
So, kid, pack an overnight bag, we are going to
Baltimore!
About 4.5 hrs into the trip, on a grove, cruising on and
getting close to the exit to get on the Pennsylvania turnpike, I realize the
GPS is making us get on St. Rt. 40 after a few miles on the turnpike. Ugh, 40.
I had driven to Washington, D.C. once before paying attention to the GPS
indicating driving on rt. 40 was the best alternative. It took forever. I was
dreading it, but with the kid in tow, I was already on a roll and was not going
to mess with the lady from the navigation system. Where’s my Triple A, or Rand McNally map, as
in a REAL map… Did I mention I love maps. Well, I love maps, real ones. Anyway, squirrel! ;)
Cringing I get off the turnpike and continue on 40 towards
Farmington, PA. Mountainy, scenic, I quickly changed my mind and begged the
engineers responsible for the digging and paving of the infamous road I had so
many times cursed previously. LOL. It was a crispy, sunny Saturday afternoon.
Hilly and full of cars, big and small, hatchbacks, cross-over SUVs, humongous
SUVs, all excitingly taking their precious cargo to whatever destination
awaits. Bikes, canoes, kayaks trailers,
RVs. All headed northwest and many turning left towards whatever destination
the bright blue and green sign ahead, pointed to. As I get closer I gasp: “Luis,
quick take a picture, we’re in the Laurel Highlands!!!!!”
I couldn’t believe it. Just a few weeks before I had heard
of the Laurel Highlands trail, stretching 70 miles through western Pennsylvania
mountains. The Laurel Ridge and Ohio Pyle State Parks hosted most of the trail
and we had planned to attempt to hike it, some day. I didn’t know where it was,
where it started, where it ended. Suddenly, I was there, right next to the area
where it all takes place. I was ecstatic.
Fast forward and it’s 4th of July weekend. Guess what?
We’re driving west on I-70 to hike the Laurel Highlands trail!!! We confess, the two of us saying “yes” to
this adventure, not knowing what to expect, except for NOT running into a black
bear. J
Thank goodness I read Wild, watched the movie and read and re-read on the how -tos and what to and what NOT to pack... Also, kudos to my planning and hiking partner, who diligently prepared our
packs, made sure our supplies were ready and that I had a poncho in case it
rained. It had rained days and days in Dayton, and the rain was following us to
PA.
I had called the Pennsylvania State Parks office to reserve
a shelter, but when we got to the Laurel Ridge State Park no one was there to
verify we had a registration form, or anything. We didn’t really know if we
were in the right spot to begin hiking towards the shelter areas. Should we go
north or south? Well, intuition and a sense of direction won! We had a map and at the foot of the trail,
next to the pole with the box with paper and pencil, I registered our hike and
answered all the necessary questions in case of emergencies. Pack on, let’s GO!
It had poured all the way to Laurel Ridge and it stopped as
soon as we arrived at the park. I don’t think I had ever seen such deep greens
and intense browns as those reflecting from the grass, leaves, tree trunks,
trail mud. The air was crisp, clear, clean.
How clean do you think the air can be so you yourself can feel it
clean. I promise you, it was very
clean. I took deep breaths. I looked
down as I studied the trail, step by step.
When I could and knew it wasn’t treacherous terrain, I looked around.
The rocks were huge. What fun games of hide and seek you could play, adults and
kids alike.
We took a turn and saw the trail heading down, deep, and
steep over rocks. OK, here we go. With one hiking stick each for balance, we
managed to make it down, not wanting to think that we had to hike UP on our way
back… Moving on. The trail went on. More greens, emerald green, I mean, really.
For a minute there I felt like Dorothy on the not-so-yellow brick road already
at the Emerald City. It was gorgeous.
A few miles into the hike and you could feel the sprinkles.
But, you know what else you could feel? The joy in ourselves, the smile in our
faces. We were doing this. We were happy, rain and all.---- If you know me at
all, you know I am NOT a fan of rain, so this must have been quite a moment----
J
Maybe ten more minutes and the sign so anticipated: Shelter
Area à Yeah! Luis was in heaven. The 5 million star
hotel at close range!
There were 6 shelters in the area plus a nice and wide
camping area for tents. Thank goodness
for the shelters because the ground was way too wet for tent camping and no
sleeping bag would keep the humidity out. Aside from the 3 plus hours it took
to build a fire- did I mention everything was wet?- everything was just fine.
Camping food was delightful and along with the smuggled
spirits, proved for a fun camping evening. The fire smelled delicious. The smell
of smoked wood mixed with the SNAP of the same wood cracking, plus the hiss of
the water coming out of the wet logs, provided quite the spectacle, in 3-D and HD!
;) I love the smell of a campfire. It is pure, real and only brings memories of
sitting outside with a glass of wine with loved ones, telling stories, having
meaningful conversations. By a fire,
find me any clear night.
Rustic is an understatement. I have a bad back, let's be clear here, but, no complaints here! It was all worth it. The open, dusty, wooden shack was just that, a shack. What I think I valued the most was the non-essentials: luxuries, material things, stuff, mere distractions. It was just right.
Rustic is an understatement. I have a bad back, let's be clear here, but, no complaints here! It was all worth it. The open, dusty, wooden shack was just that, a shack. What I think I valued the most was the non-essentials: luxuries, material things, stuff, mere distractions. It was just right.
Regardless of the assurance that no bear would join our
camping party, open shelter and all, I admit waking up more than I hoped. Every
subtle noise reminded me, well, that we were in an open shelter. All in all, it
was great. It was also good to know there was another camping crew two shelters
away.
The next morning, like good campers and AFTER coffee, we
packed up our stuff.
Back on the trail as we started to backtrack, the sun was
shining. It rained during part of the night, but by 9:00 a.m. the warm sun had
dried up the trail. It almost looked different than the day before, wet and
damp. The sky was clear, blue and with no clouds to cover and brighter than it
had been. Still the many trees provided a nice, cool shade along the trail. I could almost hear “blue” saying, “move
over, green, blue needs some space in this canvas.” All I could do was, again,
take deep breaths and thank God for the gift that was that day, the last 48
hours, that moment.
When we reached the top of the steep, rocky section of the
trail, we stopped to catch our breaths. Suddenly, “toc toc toc toc toc toc toc
toc toc toc”—a woodpecker, OK, use your imagination! ;) it was so loud we could
hardly believe it. We looked up and there it was, right above us. It stopped
for a few minutes and then went on with its morning work. Smile. “Well, good
morning, Mr. Woody, nice place you got here. Thank you for letting us visit. Have
a wonderful day. “
We agreed that we wished we had more time to hike a few more
miles…just a few more… We did find a rare sight, a little haunting, but eerily
calming and for some reason, I thought, fitting. On the trail we noticed an
American flag waving. Then another one, then a few more. Right there, in the
middle of the trail, a cemetery. The flags make me believe it might have a
Civil War connection, which of course made it even cooler because I always
enjoyed learning about the Civil War and all that came with those four years in
American history. We paid our respects and hiked on…
About 3 miles in it was time to go back, so our adventure on
the Laurel Highlands trail had to come to a temporary halt. We will come back,
for I did miss not finding some of the mountain side views and outlooks I
looked for. There’s a whole new side of the trail we didn’t even come close to.
Remember it’s 70 miles long. We will be back.
I share this experience because it is now added to the “can-dos”
from a list of “maybes.” My wish for you is that, like items on a bucket list,
if you have your own list of “maybes” move them over to the “can- do” list and
DO THEM. J
And, weather permitting, every time you can, get out a HIKE! Get out and live!
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
"I am who I am and I will never change..." Ummm, yes you have! :) But, that's OK.
When it comes to friends, or friendships, I have found it fascinating to see how time changes, YES, changes those very friends and friendships.
We are told that people never change. They are who they are and we have to accept it as fact. OK, I get that and totally understand how certain aspects of who a person is, will never change. But you know what, my friends, with time... people do change. I have seen it. And guess what, with time, newsflash: I have changed too! And, I like it.
It is a natural part of a person's evolution and development as he/she grows to literally, outgrow habits, likes and dislikes, people. Of course. You grow up and honestly, if the 40 yr old still plays with the Barbie, we can't help but shake our heads, and wonder. However, what I am trying to find the right words to express, in a very general, yet personal way, how people change with time, and that's OK.
So, if it's OK, why is it that some of us may not be thrilled with the changes we are witnessing in others? Ah, that's a good question.
Exhibit A: Colleague and mentor, a person I respected and even admired at one point, after I went through a very personal and sad life event, changed how she treated me. It's been 10 years... and it has taken that long for me to accept the change in her. After discerning and processing my own personal and life change I learned to let go of the questioning "what did I do?, why is she so different?"
Exhibit B: Mentor-type friend who invited me to "sit in" the grow ups table at committees, projects, have a voice and be a "go-to" whenever there was a need. After a while I was exhausted, physically, emotionally, even spiritually. I couldn't give it my all and I was failing miserably at everything, even at home. NO MáS. With a heavy heart I started to scale back, and to utter words hardly ever heard coming from my mouth: NO. It did not go well. All of a sudden, I was not included in gatherings, stripped of mailing lists, and well, not made to feel welcome when I walked into certain rooms.
Exhibit C, D and E: Family and friends who, as time progressed and I grew up, had new experiences, lived in different places, and began to see life from new perspectives, acted differently towards me. Again...why? Again, what did I do wrong for them to treat me so indifferently and often times, mean spirited? Why would someone have a deep love for a culture and a country during certain years of his life, yet now spew negative thoughts and feelings towards it. See, something happened. That person has changed.
On the blessed occasions, and I call them blessed -as I felt a strength in voice when I was able to express how I felt- because talking it out with the necessary individuals, only lead to either clearing up a misunderstanding or them avoiding the question or subject whatsoever.
Newsflash: It's OK. People can change how they treat others because of what they are seeing, what they are perceiving or for whatever reason they themselves have, that created that change. Everyone is entitled to feel what they feel, own their thoughts and actions. I am OK with that.
Here's the best part. My change has been the best thing that could have happened to all those people. My change came when I no longer cared about how they were acting, what they were saying and what they were doing. It really is their problem, not mine. I am no longer exhausted, but at peace. I am no longer disappointed in what I did or didn't do to "deserve" being treated differently. I am no longer afraid to say NO. Au contraire... I am saying yes, again, but only while I can maintain a healthy balance of mind, body and soul. I am not over-stressed with worry and anxiety reacting to unnecessary drama. I listen and observe. Sometimes I declare it's drama- free day and go on a self -imposed retreat, shut the world out for self-care and to spend time with me, my faith and my God. And you, well-intentioned you, sorry, you were also left out. Don't take it personal, it's not about you. ;)
With all this talk about change, should state that has not and will not change. I have NOT changed my morals, my values, my beliefs, but have re-aligned my priorities to be the best person I can be. Today. Call me tomorrow and I'll say the same thing. ;)
I have changed and I like it. Throughout all of this, my faith has been my one constant presence. Always steady, present and non-judgmental. Actually, just like a handful of people (which I can count with one hand), who NEVER did change in the progression of witnessing my own changing.
They are with me and have been with me (friends and family) pushing along, cheering along the sidelines, ready to embrace the good change that has taken place inside me. For that, I am eternally, grateful.
I have changed and I like it. Even if some of you don't quite see the change, trust me, I am a better person for it. For those who did change, and dare I say, our relationship will never be as it used to be, it's OK. I miss some friends and they way the friendship was. They are still around, but things are not and will never be the same. It's OK. You and I have a life to live and with respect, we move on and embrace our own journeys. Maybe our paths cross again, maybe they won't. It's OK.
What's the point? People change, that's all. That's OK. You change, I change. That is part of the development of a human being and the coming into each of his/her own.
A word of caution, just because we are who we are and we have reached some new sense of awareness of self, doesn't mean it gives us any right to use that to impose our thoughts and beliefs unto others. 'just saying. Acceptance of others' thoughts,opinions and believes is the best way you can change, if you are looking to make a tweak... is it easy, of course not. But, with time, people change, yes, they do. I know it! And that's OK.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
My Puertoricanness is getting in the way of the Gringolicious environment I am in...
To start or not to start with a disclaimer.. that is the question.
Ok, here it is, just to play it safe. :) DISCLAIMER: Anything written in this blog is 100% bias, from my own perspective, based on what I have seen, lived and learned from. Do I have a choice? It's what life has taught me and what my contribution to this world is, based on who I am as God's creation, just like everyone else living and breathing in our lovely planet. I write with the outmost respect and appreciation for the gifts and blessings my family has recieved.
Skeptics will take the title of the post and have a field day... boasting confidently how they "always knew it," how a person who is from a different culture, country and speaks a different language can never assimilate fully to an adopted land. Well, for many years I have proved them wrong. Or have I?
Previous posts have highlighted my upbrining in San Juan, Puerto Rico. While family life highs and lows made for a "not so typical" childhood, my goal was always to take who I was, my culture and take it further from what seemed the norm. To want more than that was expected and NOT to give in to stereotypes. I also faught tooth and nail NOT to be pigeon hold or the "token" Latina in my newly found home. I had something to prove. Puerto Ricans are hard working, passionate, loud, yes, very loud, life-loving, food and drink obsessed, colorful people. We are different, we are special. THAT had been minimzed to a mere side-show of the occassional salsa song played by the DJ at a co-worker's wedding. My dance partner and I were entertainment, and we were good at it.
Problem no. 1. What if the entertainment actually wanted to discuss current political issues, global affairs in government or the economy? WHAT? What do you know about that? And while politics are never a "light" topic, I do my best to lighten up the load.
Again, I am simply telling a story... stay cool. I did my polite best to brush away the ignorant comments and questions and again, minimized the fact that I could eloquently tackle any small talk and conversation driven by the most educated in the room. Some were accepting, others walked away. I didn't want to offend.
Problem no. 2. What if the little Puerto Rican, with her energy, enthusiasm, commitment, skills and persuasive talents was to excel far beyond peers' expectations? Unheard off.
Recently, and with long, soul searching periods of discernment, prayer and inner reflection, my own culture, language and qualities that define me as who I am, NOT how I am expected to be, have been chipping off pieces of the walls I myself carefully and meticulously built. Being loud is part of me (I get that mostly from the Ortiz side!), especially when I speak Spanish. Hugging is something I do. No, it's something I HAVE to do. We are warm and loving people with NO agendas, people. RELAX. I give a peck on the cheek to my closest friends, as well as my family. Again, RELAX, it's a way of showing we care, that's it.
We love music, we love to dance, we love people and we NEED, I NEED to be around them to be the best I can be. My best version of myself is with people, leading, teaching, learning.
We love music, we love to dance, we love people and we NEED, I NEED to be around them to be the best I can be. My best version of myself is with people, leading, teaching, learning.
The point of all this, folks, is simple. No matter how many years I may have lived in Ohio, regardless of how much I have called this place home, which has certainly been home, I will ALWAYS be an island girl. I am sure my fellow Hawaiian peeps can relate, even if they choose to live in Alaska. :)
I have struggled lately by having to stand firm and defend my culture and language. I shouldn't have to. No one should. For the first time in almost 20 years here, I have felt different. Maybe it was always there, duh! :) I mean, I am different. Even growing up, I always felt different. I wanted more, I wanted different things than my friends, my family. I had to give in on a few things, but that never changed the fact that Iwas different. I always wanted MORE!
I now stand, after feeling the most proud representative of my Puerto Rico, standing even taller than ever, owning my Puertorricanness hoping it can still find a place in my adopted Gringolicious home. Another disclaimer: As stated in previous posts, also in defense of my "different-ness" (I think I just made that up!!) I will not use the same culture and language that makes us unique, as a crutch or excuse for this or that. On the contrary, we are assets, we are bi-cultural, bi-lingual and CAN assimilate and appreciate different cultures and expectations BETTER than others can. It's in our DNA, it's who we are as a colonized culture.
In conclusion, I stress that everything written is from a place of love, respect and appreciation of all that has been granted to me in my personal and professional development. Lessons learned about how to be and how not to be, but always, always TRUE to yourself, even if the wake-up calls takes a few hits to the snooze button. :) To be the best version of myself, no matter what language I have to use to communicate, including Puerto Rican pig latin, HA! ;)
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Eventually, people who need people are indeed lucky...
Thank you Barbra, for in your best Fanny Brice, charmingly serenaded the ruffles off Omar Sharif's shirt in Funny Girl you tell us that "people who need people are in the luckiest people in the world."
I couldn't agree more. Some of you out there may concur, some of you not so much. However, if you would have asked me a year ago, I would hesitate a bit. You see, I was ready to embark in a new adventure of the job-changing kind where I was to work virtually, leading a team of professionals located in several call centers across the USA. The task at hand to build employee engagement that would result in retention.
Stationed in Ohio, I worked with engagement "teams" of volunteers for a Fortune 50 company, as I was constantly and quite condescendingly reminded off. The Fortune 50 company way is this, the Fortune 50 company way is that... You get the idea. Well, for a closet introvert, as my "thirties" would tell you I'd become, was totally up for it. OK, I can do this. I have managed volunteers and teams before. Let's plan strategy for engagement, events and let's have fun!
Did I say I'd be stationed in Ohio working virtually with teams all over the nation?? Yes, I had multiple meetings and calls a day with my colleagues, but it was done virtually. Week 1 turned into month 1, then month 3 and by the time month 6 rolled around, I had carpel tunnel in my right arm because I'd spent at least nine and a half hrs a day on my computer and on the phone. I had hardly any face to face, real interaction. The people on the floor where my office was located were all, like me, on the computer, phone headset on, doing their thing. "Good morning!" I'd cheerfully greet everyone I passed by. Nothing... My supervisor who lived an hr away, commuted, but stayed home three days a week and on days we'd have our one on one meetings, she'd stay in her office and call me over the phone. One day I had a bad cough and she asked me not to come in because I'd likely get her sick. Sparing you the details of what came later, you can say that there ended up being not so much positive engagement in the employee engagement world. Why? My theory was because the definition of engagement there had a lot to do with invoices, numbers and orders coming from top down, and not with the "engagement" of people.
I eventually began working from home. I mean, what was the point. Not one person I worked with was physically IN the office. Might was well roll out of bed, make my own coffee and have Hoda and Kathy Lee in the background-no wine, though. ;)
When that adventure (term used loosely and full of sarcasm) wrapped up I took a leap of faith and began working on new projects from home. Loved the classes taking, the planning and writing I was doing, essentially, the work was mine, and I felt productive. Unfortunately, I was starting to feel something huge was missing.
Disclaimer- there is NOTHING wrong with staying home, working from home, or doing "nothing" at home, if that is your choice. It was definitely, NOT for me.
This closet introvert is that: CLOSET introvert. More of an extrovert I began to desperately miss human interaction, actual, interpersonal interaction. Screw the phone, texting, emailing or the use of any other piece of technology available to us mere mortals to hide or shelter physical contact. In a nutshell, and before I went nuts, I realized I am a people person who needed people, who needs people,... Cue Barbra! How lucky I was to wake up from my "stay at home" comfort zone and wave away the fog that had attempted to blind me with thoughts and voices inside my head that justify and glorify the benefits of working on your own, from home. Again, this is MY story. Don't knock it. Some professionals out there have made it, and made it big, while working either alone, of from home. Again, not for me. It was simply too isolating.
I will say one thing, and here's where the true appreciation comes in. Fast forward to a few weeks ago. Still basking on the joy of rejoining a real, living and breathing work team, there were voices, presence of certain somebodies, all good people, but too "loud" for my mind and my heart, and even way more opinionated about MY life, career choices, parenting skills, etc. They may all mean well, but quite frankly I had to tune them OUT! I deactivated social media accounts, unplugged everything that needed a chord to stay "alive," turned off ring tones, changed ringtones, deleted ringtones and decided to focus on what was right in front of me: human beings, real people. Just like that I re-committed to tuning out voices and influences outside of my control. The point I want to make is that I put myself on a self-imposed "retreat" and was silent, disconnected and by choice, not interacting with anyone who was not in physical proximity. I was able to reflect, write and read, then relaxed and not stressed in order to peacefully enjoy the here, the now and the moment.
Then a miracle happened... the one app I had not deactivated was Skype. Through Skype calls, three by the same person in one week, I was able to re-connect, talk, laugh and even cry, looking into eyes, smiling in unison. Two people who live thousands of miles away, in countries apart, felt human (albeit visual) contact and that made all the difference...
So, in closing, and acknowledging the occasional need for any person to either work alone, from home, or other wise, disconnect himself/herself from the world if needed to regroup with ONESELF, to first and foremost listen to YOUR voice (internal and external) and be OK with yourself, your life and your own decisions, people need people. At least I do. I am a people person. I love to be around people, to work with people, to see, talk to, touch and laugh with people. And yes, I am one of the lucky ones.
I couldn't agree more. Some of you out there may concur, some of you not so much. However, if you would have asked me a year ago, I would hesitate a bit. You see, I was ready to embark in a new adventure of the job-changing kind where I was to work virtually, leading a team of professionals located in several call centers across the USA. The task at hand to build employee engagement that would result in retention.
Stationed in Ohio, I worked with engagement "teams" of volunteers for a Fortune 50 company, as I was constantly and quite condescendingly reminded off. The Fortune 50 company way is this, the Fortune 50 company way is that... You get the idea. Well, for a closet introvert, as my "thirties" would tell you I'd become, was totally up for it. OK, I can do this. I have managed volunteers and teams before. Let's plan strategy for engagement, events and let's have fun!
Did I say I'd be stationed in Ohio working virtually with teams all over the nation?? Yes, I had multiple meetings and calls a day with my colleagues, but it was done virtually. Week 1 turned into month 1, then month 3 and by the time month 6 rolled around, I had carpel tunnel in my right arm because I'd spent at least nine and a half hrs a day on my computer and on the phone. I had hardly any face to face, real interaction. The people on the floor where my office was located were all, like me, on the computer, phone headset on, doing their thing. "Good morning!" I'd cheerfully greet everyone I passed by. Nothing... My supervisor who lived an hr away, commuted, but stayed home three days a week and on days we'd have our one on one meetings, she'd stay in her office and call me over the phone. One day I had a bad cough and she asked me not to come in because I'd likely get her sick. Sparing you the details of what came later, you can say that there ended up being not so much positive engagement in the employee engagement world. Why? My theory was because the definition of engagement there had a lot to do with invoices, numbers and orders coming from top down, and not with the "engagement" of people.
I eventually began working from home. I mean, what was the point. Not one person I worked with was physically IN the office. Might was well roll out of bed, make my own coffee and have Hoda and Kathy Lee in the background-no wine, though. ;)
When that adventure (term used loosely and full of sarcasm) wrapped up I took a leap of faith and began working on new projects from home. Loved the classes taking, the planning and writing I was doing, essentially, the work was mine, and I felt productive. Unfortunately, I was starting to feel something huge was missing.
Disclaimer- there is NOTHING wrong with staying home, working from home, or doing "nothing" at home, if that is your choice. It was definitely, NOT for me.
This closet introvert is that: CLOSET introvert. More of an extrovert I began to desperately miss human interaction, actual, interpersonal interaction. Screw the phone, texting, emailing or the use of any other piece of technology available to us mere mortals to hide or shelter physical contact. In a nutshell, and before I went nuts, I realized I am a people person who needed people, who needs people,... Cue Barbra! How lucky I was to wake up from my "stay at home" comfort zone and wave away the fog that had attempted to blind me with thoughts and voices inside my head that justify and glorify the benefits of working on your own, from home. Again, this is MY story. Don't knock it. Some professionals out there have made it, and made it big, while working either alone, of from home. Again, not for me. It was simply too isolating.
I will say one thing, and here's where the true appreciation comes in. Fast forward to a few weeks ago. Still basking on the joy of rejoining a real, living and breathing work team, there were voices, presence of certain somebodies, all good people, but too "loud" for my mind and my heart, and even way more opinionated about MY life, career choices, parenting skills, etc. They may all mean well, but quite frankly I had to tune them OUT! I deactivated social media accounts, unplugged everything that needed a chord to stay "alive," turned off ring tones, changed ringtones, deleted ringtones and decided to focus on what was right in front of me: human beings, real people. Just like that I re-committed to tuning out voices and influences outside of my control. The point I want to make is that I put myself on a self-imposed "retreat" and was silent, disconnected and by choice, not interacting with anyone who was not in physical proximity. I was able to reflect, write and read, then relaxed and not stressed in order to peacefully enjoy the here, the now and the moment.
Then a miracle happened... the one app I had not deactivated was Skype. Through Skype calls, three by the same person in one week, I was able to re-connect, talk, laugh and even cry, looking into eyes, smiling in unison. Two people who live thousands of miles away, in countries apart, felt human (albeit visual) contact and that made all the difference...
So, in closing, and acknowledging the occasional need for any person to either work alone, from home, or other wise, disconnect himself/herself from the world if needed to regroup with ONESELF, to first and foremost listen to YOUR voice (internal and external) and be OK with yourself, your life and your own decisions, people need people. At least I do. I am a people person. I love to be around people, to work with people, to see, talk to, touch and laugh with people. And yes, I am one of the lucky ones.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
iSe habla español!
I am sure I am not the first fully bilingual person who had an A-HA moment as the one I am embracing at the moment. It may not be as significant to the likes of many out there, but if a certain "bilingues y hasta trilingues" are reading this, I trust they will indeed give me a virtual high five or a fist pump!
Yo hablo español y al que no le gusta, pues, que se puede pedir, ojalá pudiera hablarlo también....
I say that in the most respectful way. I speak Spanish and if you don't like it, sorry, I wish you could speak it too.
Born and raised speaking one language can be hard enough for anyone. I mean, really, who loves grammar lessons at school in ANY language? Having said that, from an early age, I fell hard, hard, in love with the English language. I would sit for hours watching TV "ien inglés!" and repeat phrases, words, sing songs, memorize then recite full scripts ranging from "Annie" to "Gone With the Wind."
Becoming an English major was probably one of the best decisions I have ever made, allowing me to write and express myself, thoughts, points of view and opinions about a work of fiction, among other things. I was happy, intellectually stimulated and motivated to want more, to thrive and to not settle.
Landing jobs after colleges came easier than expected, having voices inside my head still echoing "You don't belong in the English department. You have no business here." Yet, instead of feeling proud and milking my "bilingués" -I think I just made that one up!- I was determined to be the best English speaker there was. I perfected my accent, boasting I didn't have an accent to speak off and made sure I was not pigeon held as the token Latina like it was job. It was mentally, emotionally and sometimes physically, exhausting--headaches every evening at 6:00 p.m. only to be soothed by Juan Luis Guerra y 4:40 merengue CDs playing in the car. I needed my Spanish. I needed what came naturally to me...
I remember many people pushing and strongly suggesting ("suggesting" used loosely) that I become the Latina this or the Latina that of any company or organization. I refused, I rebelled. I fought long and hard to make my mark as everything except who I was. What was I? Who am I? A college educated bilingual bad-ass that can relate to people from different cultures with an open mind, can speak and write fluently in two languages and has finally, truly and whole-heartedly appreciated the second language is just that... a second language. The main, primary, mother and native tongue or language is what naturally flows from me... in words, in actions, in mind, in body and soul.
Blessed I have been to travel and lived in many different countries and cultures, lucky to have friends who have taught me to say "I love you" in Swedish as well as in German and French, I now speak Spanish more than English in my day to day.
Whether it is working with a student from Puerto Rico, who needs help filling out a college application or doesn't understand what FAFSA means, or praying along side Doña Cecilia, whose daughter is ill and needs la Virgencita to watch over her, I do it en español.
Being bilingual is a gift I want and need to share with the world. I hope my son some day also realizes the same thing and embraces his roots and language of his parents and every member of his family, regardless how mid-western he may feel. Now, every day, I look forward to finding material to translate, calls to return and interpret, prayers to share, all in Spanish. Finally!!! Working every day using a God-given talent and ability and NOT keep it to myself. It is my responsibility to use this gift for the benefit of my community, to help my people. Mi gente.
If you need me, se habla español! :)
Yo hablo español y al que no le gusta, pues, que se puede pedir, ojalá pudiera hablarlo también....
I say that in the most respectful way. I speak Spanish and if you don't like it, sorry, I wish you could speak it too.
Born and raised speaking one language can be hard enough for anyone. I mean, really, who loves grammar lessons at school in ANY language? Having said that, from an early age, I fell hard, hard, in love with the English language. I would sit for hours watching TV "ien inglés!" and repeat phrases, words, sing songs, memorize then recite full scripts ranging from "Annie" to "Gone With the Wind."
Becoming an English major was probably one of the best decisions I have ever made, allowing me to write and express myself, thoughts, points of view and opinions about a work of fiction, among other things. I was happy, intellectually stimulated and motivated to want more, to thrive and to not settle.
Landing jobs after colleges came easier than expected, having voices inside my head still echoing "You don't belong in the English department. You have no business here." Yet, instead of feeling proud and milking my "bilingués" -I think I just made that one up!- I was determined to be the best English speaker there was. I perfected my accent, boasting I didn't have an accent to speak off and made sure I was not pigeon held as the token Latina like it was job. It was mentally, emotionally and sometimes physically, exhausting--headaches every evening at 6:00 p.m. only to be soothed by Juan Luis Guerra y 4:40 merengue CDs playing in the car. I needed my Spanish. I needed what came naturally to me...
I remember many people pushing and strongly suggesting ("suggesting" used loosely) that I become the Latina this or the Latina that of any company or organization. I refused, I rebelled. I fought long and hard to make my mark as everything except who I was. What was I? Who am I? A college educated bilingual bad-ass that can relate to people from different cultures with an open mind, can speak and write fluently in two languages and has finally, truly and whole-heartedly appreciated the second language is just that... a second language. The main, primary, mother and native tongue or language is what naturally flows from me... in words, in actions, in mind, in body and soul.
Blessed I have been to travel and lived in many different countries and cultures, lucky to have friends who have taught me to say "I love you" in Swedish as well as in German and French, I now speak Spanish more than English in my day to day.
Whether it is working with a student from Puerto Rico, who needs help filling out a college application or doesn't understand what FAFSA means, or praying along side Doña Cecilia, whose daughter is ill and needs la Virgencita to watch over her, I do it en español.
Being bilingual is a gift I want and need to share with the world. I hope my son some day also realizes the same thing and embraces his roots and language of his parents and every member of his family, regardless how mid-western he may feel. Now, every day, I look forward to finding material to translate, calls to return and interpret, prayers to share, all in Spanish. Finally!!! Working every day using a God-given talent and ability and NOT keep it to myself. It is my responsibility to use this gift for the benefit of my community, to help my people. Mi gente.
If you need me, se habla español! :)
Saturday, February 21, 2015
When asked what is romantic love to you, I answer...
Romantic love can mean many things to different people. Yes, it can be the Disney fairy tale some of us princesses dream off, or the instant connection made when two eyes meet and with no words to describe, a sensation of comfort, sprinkled with butterflies fluttering inside one's stomach, that sends a signal to your heart, saying "I like this. This feels good, keep going."
Love can also be that same feeling of comfort when two people share common thoughts, goals, values, likes and even dislikes. Sometimes it comes quickly, other times ....with time.
Love has to develop, whether thunderbolt or gradual, built on a foundation of respect for the other person. With no respect, no relationship lasts. But, let me add that when I speak of respect, it can't only be respect for the other half. I also mean, self - respect. Respecting yourself enough to know right from wrong. If a person doesn't respect his/herself, one's own thoughts, feelings and opinions can get lost in the fictional land of "I just want what you want." That same place, however, can certainly exist, if and only IF both parties are in true, whole - heartedly honest about their thoughts, feelings and opinions and it by providence, all are in sync to please each other, in some compromise, so be it.... buy land and set up shop.
Love is compromise and I can't stress that enough. Revisiting the same statement above on being honest, that compromise has to either come naturally or in unison, based on understanding, conversation and openness if/when there's a disagreement.
No relationship can be one-sided. A relationship, by definition, includes more than person. Not everyone is the same, no one is perfect..but how cool is it when two imperfect people find love and common ground to make perfect love. .. and by perfect love I mean whatever it means to them. We are all different and different is good sometimes.
Love is fun... oh so much fun. It is not meant to hurt, but to make you smile from ear to ear and to want to hold the other person's hand, and hug them as often as it's humanly possible. Love is asking how's your day going or how was it when there's stress in the air.... love is listening to the other person, telling the fun story as well as the serious one.
Love is taking note of those little things that may offend the other person, and (reference back to honesty and respect) either do them lightly without offense or if the offences take place and it was not meant to be hurtful, own up to it and apologize. There can at times, nothing more loving than an honest apology when due and spoken with heart. It shows vulnerability, humanness and responsibility. A responsibility for the feelings of the other and a responsibility for oneself.
Love is opportunity and not wasting it by not telling those who mean a lot to you how much that is...
Love is taking risks, leaps of faith, with the understanding that the leaps may scrape the knees if falling to fast. If it's worth the fall, jump!
In a nutshell, I love love, even when it hurts... I believe in it, in all of it and I pray and hope that as I, like you and many other people, experience a light or severe case of love sicknesses, we quickly recover with an open heart and a healthy soul to journey on...
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
David Lee Roth v. Sammy Hagar
In pondering the thought provoking invitation to consider, and also choose which lead singer better suits the infamous rock band, Van Halen, my conclusion follows.
David Lee Roth, crazy hair, sexy, deep voiced and quite the fun-loving boy represents the youth and discovery years, which for me, were the beginning of my love for MTV, et al. 1984 is probably one of the best albums that represent the 80s generation x's early appreciation of videos and long hair! ;)
While fans had to deal witn the fact that DLR was far too focused on his own ego by becoming "Just a Gigolo", he was somebody and gave us a treat in his solo albums, including introducing a new generation to "California Girls" - thanks Dave. ;)
In comes Sammy Hagar... a raspy voiced, pseudo beach-bum that could easily pass as a permanent resident of Margaritaville. He also can't drive 55.... but we give me a chance.
Numbers, numbers, I hate numbers, and what do we get: 5150. The sound sounds similar... a familiar tone, beautifully married to the sounds of Eddie's electric guitar. Again, Sammy's raspy voice serenades the hard core fans to "What can't this be love" and I'm entranced. Next thing you know, I ask for the LP for my birthday. Then.... I discovered "Dreams" and that cemented my role as a fan.
In conclusion.... both singers were perfect for the band at the time they were members...in fhe height of their original and complimentary popularity. However, to me, DLR represents the young Van Halen, jumping and being hot for teacher. Sammy is the slightly more mature Van Halen, giving to us a glimpse of hope, love and dreams, deeper and more meaningful than a spring break in Panama.
My choice is clear... I hope. ;)
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
2014, it's been real... really.
Perhaps one of my favorite places to spend time at is a coffee shop. In between student counseling sessions, I pause to check Facebook. Everyone posts on how today is the last day of 2014, the last page of the book that is that last year in our lives, and reminders of the opportunity that tomorrow will bring: a new year begins, a new book to start writing the epic novel that is life; a blank canvas to paint a colorful image morphed into something stemmed from our minds and thoughts...
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right??
Here's my third December 31, new year's eve post on my blog. All three might sound the same if you flip back and read, but I can guarantee one thing: I am not the same person. And that is OK.
This year, 2014, has been quite fascinating. Yes, fascinating is the first word that came to mind. The word is appropriate because it can be both equally, shimmering in all things positive as well as the challenging. Of course, by challenging, I embrace challenges as lessons, needed as they are at first rejected. Bring them on, for that is how we learn and be better; how I learn and become a better version of myself.
Along with the given (NOT to be taken for granted) blessings in my life, my loved ones and family, my friends, old and new, the year brought with it a reminder of who I am, who I have always been and who I am meant to be. It was a great reminder, that while it may have come with a tiny bit of pain, it has been worth it...
So, what did I remember I had not quite forgotten, but appreciated a reminder about?? ;)
I am in love with education, higher education to be exact. I need intellectual stimulation, so knowledge, you will be nurtured more. I am passionate about sharing my knowledge and experiences with others, students, adults, whoever. I put others' needs before mine and (as the reminder, reminded me) got a little sick along the way... No bueno! ;) Got over it, moving on. Like I wrote on my 40th birthday, it's OK to be a little self-caring at times, and it is NOT being selfish if you need to take care of yourself in other to take care of others. Caso Cerrado!
Careers shifted, passions reignited and risks are being taken. I am a heart-felt, emotional piece of Puerto Ricanness that will NOT omit my natural "me" regardless of where I live and where I work. While I am a careful and meticulous planner, I stepped out my comfort zone and decided to take one day at a time... OMG, it's oh so scary, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I had grown content, complacent and, dare I admit, jaded. That's NOT me. Life is for living, as my Camp Horizons boss always said... Every day is a gift. Every day brings new challenges and blessings, equally... The question is and will always be... how will I react and handle them?
PAUSE if you need a break if this post turns overly positive. Sorry, but I am not sorry. Positive is what I am, is how I feel and how I need to face the rest of my days, NO MATTER what 2015, or any new day, year, may bring. Is it easy? Hell no. The truth is I HAVE NO CHOICE. Yes, we have a choice in how we react to actions, words, circumstances. My choice is not to have a choice but be positive. I make a promise to you, the world, the Universe and to all that is holy, to face whatever this year brings with the best attitude possible and to channel thoughts through the tunnel of love. Why?
Why not....
I wish the same to you all.... Let this year be the most positive year, wherever we are, whatever we do, whoever we are. Happy 2015!
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right??
Here's my third December 31, new year's eve post on my blog. All three might sound the same if you flip back and read, but I can guarantee one thing: I am not the same person. And that is OK.
This year, 2014, has been quite fascinating. Yes, fascinating is the first word that came to mind. The word is appropriate because it can be both equally, shimmering in all things positive as well as the challenging. Of course, by challenging, I embrace challenges as lessons, needed as they are at first rejected. Bring them on, for that is how we learn and be better; how I learn and become a better version of myself.
Along with the given (NOT to be taken for granted) blessings in my life, my loved ones and family, my friends, old and new, the year brought with it a reminder of who I am, who I have always been and who I am meant to be. It was a great reminder, that while it may have come with a tiny bit of pain, it has been worth it...
So, what did I remember I had not quite forgotten, but appreciated a reminder about?? ;)
I am in love with education, higher education to be exact. I need intellectual stimulation, so knowledge, you will be nurtured more. I am passionate about sharing my knowledge and experiences with others, students, adults, whoever. I put others' needs before mine and (as the reminder, reminded me) got a little sick along the way... No bueno! ;) Got over it, moving on. Like I wrote on my 40th birthday, it's OK to be a little self-caring at times, and it is NOT being selfish if you need to take care of yourself in other to take care of others. Caso Cerrado!
Careers shifted, passions reignited and risks are being taken. I am a heart-felt, emotional piece of Puerto Ricanness that will NOT omit my natural "me" regardless of where I live and where I work. While I am a careful and meticulous planner, I stepped out my comfort zone and decided to take one day at a time... OMG, it's oh so scary, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I had grown content, complacent and, dare I admit, jaded. That's NOT me. Life is for living, as my Camp Horizons boss always said... Every day is a gift. Every day brings new challenges and blessings, equally... The question is and will always be... how will I react and handle them?
PAUSE if you need a break if this post turns overly positive. Sorry, but I am not sorry. Positive is what I am, is how I feel and how I need to face the rest of my days, NO MATTER what 2015, or any new day, year, may bring. Is it easy? Hell no. The truth is I HAVE NO CHOICE. Yes, we have a choice in how we react to actions, words, circumstances. My choice is not to have a choice but be positive. I make a promise to you, the world, the Universe and to all that is holy, to face whatever this year brings with the best attitude possible and to channel thoughts through the tunnel of love. Why?
Why not....
I wish the same to you all.... Let this year be the most positive year, wherever we are, whatever we do, whoever we are. Happy 2015!
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Thoughts...
My first post, a little over two years ago, was all about processing a million thoughts in my head. It seems there's a massive gathering of people all wanting my attention at the same time. Hmm, it looks as if this year's meeting is taking place whether I like it or not, when I so politely declined the invitation to attend... Right.
The colorful array of thoughts represent different types of people. Those in attendance represent the "to-do list" or the mom-types, smothering, controlling, loving tough. Others are the overly-emotional, letting the heart sucker-punch the mind so emotions can flow (too much at times), just to turn around and allow the mind to embrace it with thoughts of fear and worry. In comes the confident, no-nonsense "I am stronger than this" thought, as the peace maker. Her voice trying to speak firm, but kindly and loud enough she can be heard and hopefully, bring consensus to this gathering. In the corner, the intellectual stands quietly observing what's going on, analyzing, assessing the situation to see if the heart and the mind, the most powerful vessels of thoughts can agree to disagree. And move on.
Think of these types of thoughts, as member chapters representing the different thoughts that mosey on into our minds when something happened, happens or is about to happen. Each chapter has over 50 members. Quite crowded for my mind... ;) but what can we, I, do about it? Can I attempt to be diplomatic and ask them to find another mind to clutter, especially, before 4:00 a.m. Sigh... Well, let's take a stab at this...
It's the holiday season. Christmas is coming. Advent to some of us, Catholics, is a time to wait, anticipate the "good news" to come in the shape of a baby. A new life, a new hope, a new future. Ok, yeah, we know that. What about the now, and the million thoughts in my head fighting for my attention, right here? Right now. What does that have to do with all of this? --- Queue thoughts talking to themselves- in my head. ;)
"We need to do our best to take one thing at a time. To speak, one at a time; be heard, listened to, one at a time. There's no need to worry --yes, I am looking at you, worrier-- take one thing at time and accept that what you see is what you get. If it's not there, if it hasn't happened, don't worry. If you don't hear it, see it, it's OK. Some things are meant to just be... so let it go. Each and everyone of us is causing anxiety by fighting for room in Jess' mind. We need to know our boundaries. We need to cut her a little slack and tone it down a notch. Perhaps, mom-type, relax a bit, while staying firm about the kid's school year. It's slowly getting better. We know you care about that, but relax.
No-nonsense and intellectual decide to work together and to ease the job situation and enable Jess to take advantage of the here and now, go with the flow and see where the universe will lead. Enjoy the time, the present, for it may not be as flexible in the future. And even if there's too much of it and you feel like you need to stay busy, that's OK. This time is yours and yours alone. Use it wisely."
The heart (thoughts) and the mind (thoughts) were staring at each other, like a duel at high noon where cowboys were locked in sight, sweating pouring down their faces waiting to see who would shoot first. The room went silent. Jess' mind quiet for the first time in at least a month. Waiting.
The mind held its hand up like asking for truce. Walked straight up to the heart and said it was sorry. The heart just listened. Said nothing. "I am so sorry for cluttering your judgment and taking advantage of your sensitivity. My negative side wanted to camp out, and stay. So much has happened and since you always win, I wanted to one-up you. I promise to let my positive side take over and allow you to be who you are, and if you allow me, help you channel emotions rationally and not as emotionally as usual. I am not perfect, but I will do my best to protect you from my negative side, especially now, at Christmas. This is my promise and my renewal to you."
The heart, stunned at what she had heard, responded in a calm, collected manner when let's admit it, everyone expected the tears to flow, like a waterfall in Niagara.
"Thank you. I appreciate everything you do for me. I am sorry for allowing the unnecessary stress come between us. We need to work together. To better communicate and to understand where each of us is coming from. I have allowed you to come into Jess' mind and forget I am here. I am not saying you can't come in at all, on the contrary. Please do, let's sit by the fire. But, I am glad you said your negative side will not overpower your positive side. It has devastating consequences and the fact is that I am frail. I think we all are, where the heart is concerned. However, don't underestimate my power, for I come from a line of folks that are all heart, and while we need to tone-it down and control the intensity of our blood-pumping power, we must protect Jess and not over do it. My promise to you is to stay in check. Not to change who I am and how I function, but to be more aware and balance the emotion part of our partnership. Key word is partnership. I am also not perfect and I know when I have to say I am sorry. I am whole-heartedly - chuckle for pun ;) - sorry for doing my own thing and not letting you join in the conversation, even if we agree to disagree. I will from now on allow you to be part of the conversation and decision making process for Jess, as long as it's your positive side. I will listen and respect where you are coming from. I will beat strong and loving for you, for our partnership. This is my renewal and promise to you."
And with that, all thoughts looks at each other and together left the cluttered space that was my mind for peaceful flows of fresh air to breeze through...
Wow, folks, I've been up since 3:30 a.m. I haven't had my coffee (catastrophic GASP!!!!) but I am wide away, and I am OK. Thank you for allowing me to help my many thoughts chill for a bit, and express themselves. They were too loud and they needed a time-out. Funny, as I am processing everything I wrote, I realized, all they needed was probably to be listened to. I gave them space, a little attention by putting them into writing so I can let them go... and flow and move on.
It is the holiday season. Indeed a time for renewal, to be grateful. A time for patience in the middle of stress, reflection and pause in the midst of uncertainty. But most of all, it is a time of hope, faith and love. I have asked my thoughts, all different types of thoughts, from emotional to rational, that moving forward they always remember this conversation they had with each other and the consensus they came to. Their promise to work together in hope, faith and love... May we all have the blessing and opportunity to pause and reflect, assess what's going on in our lives, learn from it and move on in hope, faith and love...
Half an hour more and Starbucks opens... ;) Have a wonderful day.
The colorful array of thoughts represent different types of people. Those in attendance represent the "to-do list" or the mom-types, smothering, controlling, loving tough. Others are the overly-emotional, letting the heart sucker-punch the mind so emotions can flow (too much at times), just to turn around and allow the mind to embrace it with thoughts of fear and worry. In comes the confident, no-nonsense "I am stronger than this" thought, as the peace maker. Her voice trying to speak firm, but kindly and loud enough she can be heard and hopefully, bring consensus to this gathering. In the corner, the intellectual stands quietly observing what's going on, analyzing, assessing the situation to see if the heart and the mind, the most powerful vessels of thoughts can agree to disagree. And move on.
Think of these types of thoughts, as member chapters representing the different thoughts that mosey on into our minds when something happened, happens or is about to happen. Each chapter has over 50 members. Quite crowded for my mind... ;) but what can we, I, do about it? Can I attempt to be diplomatic and ask them to find another mind to clutter, especially, before 4:00 a.m. Sigh... Well, let's take a stab at this...
It's the holiday season. Christmas is coming. Advent to some of us, Catholics, is a time to wait, anticipate the "good news" to come in the shape of a baby. A new life, a new hope, a new future. Ok, yeah, we know that. What about the now, and the million thoughts in my head fighting for my attention, right here? Right now. What does that have to do with all of this? --- Queue thoughts talking to themselves- in my head. ;)
"We need to do our best to take one thing at a time. To speak, one at a time; be heard, listened to, one at a time. There's no need to worry --yes, I am looking at you, worrier-- take one thing at time and accept that what you see is what you get. If it's not there, if it hasn't happened, don't worry. If you don't hear it, see it, it's OK. Some things are meant to just be... so let it go. Each and everyone of us is causing anxiety by fighting for room in Jess' mind. We need to know our boundaries. We need to cut her a little slack and tone it down a notch. Perhaps, mom-type, relax a bit, while staying firm about the kid's school year. It's slowly getting better. We know you care about that, but relax.
No-nonsense and intellectual decide to work together and to ease the job situation and enable Jess to take advantage of the here and now, go with the flow and see where the universe will lead. Enjoy the time, the present, for it may not be as flexible in the future. And even if there's too much of it and you feel like you need to stay busy, that's OK. This time is yours and yours alone. Use it wisely."
The heart (thoughts) and the mind (thoughts) were staring at each other, like a duel at high noon where cowboys were locked in sight, sweating pouring down their faces waiting to see who would shoot first. The room went silent. Jess' mind quiet for the first time in at least a month. Waiting.
The mind held its hand up like asking for truce. Walked straight up to the heart and said it was sorry. The heart just listened. Said nothing. "I am so sorry for cluttering your judgment and taking advantage of your sensitivity. My negative side wanted to camp out, and stay. So much has happened and since you always win, I wanted to one-up you. I promise to let my positive side take over and allow you to be who you are, and if you allow me, help you channel emotions rationally and not as emotionally as usual. I am not perfect, but I will do my best to protect you from my negative side, especially now, at Christmas. This is my promise and my renewal to you."
The heart, stunned at what she had heard, responded in a calm, collected manner when let's admit it, everyone expected the tears to flow, like a waterfall in Niagara.
"Thank you. I appreciate everything you do for me. I am sorry for allowing the unnecessary stress come between us. We need to work together. To better communicate and to understand where each of us is coming from. I have allowed you to come into Jess' mind and forget I am here. I am not saying you can't come in at all, on the contrary. Please do, let's sit by the fire. But, I am glad you said your negative side will not overpower your positive side. It has devastating consequences and the fact is that I am frail. I think we all are, where the heart is concerned. However, don't underestimate my power, for I come from a line of folks that are all heart, and while we need to tone-it down and control the intensity of our blood-pumping power, we must protect Jess and not over do it. My promise to you is to stay in check. Not to change who I am and how I function, but to be more aware and balance the emotion part of our partnership. Key word is partnership. I am also not perfect and I know when I have to say I am sorry. I am whole-heartedly - chuckle for pun ;) - sorry for doing my own thing and not letting you join in the conversation, even if we agree to disagree. I will from now on allow you to be part of the conversation and decision making process for Jess, as long as it's your positive side. I will listen and respect where you are coming from. I will beat strong and loving for you, for our partnership. This is my renewal and promise to you."
And with that, all thoughts looks at each other and together left the cluttered space that was my mind for peaceful flows of fresh air to breeze through...
Wow, folks, I've been up since 3:30 a.m. I haven't had my coffee (catastrophic GASP!!!!) but I am wide away, and I am OK. Thank you for allowing me to help my many thoughts chill for a bit, and express themselves. They were too loud and they needed a time-out. Funny, as I am processing everything I wrote, I realized, all they needed was probably to be listened to. I gave them space, a little attention by putting them into writing so I can let them go... and flow and move on.
It is the holiday season. Indeed a time for renewal, to be grateful. A time for patience in the middle of stress, reflection and pause in the midst of uncertainty. But most of all, it is a time of hope, faith and love. I have asked my thoughts, all different types of thoughts, from emotional to rational, that moving forward they always remember this conversation they had with each other and the consensus they came to. Their promise to work together in hope, faith and love... May we all have the blessing and opportunity to pause and reflect, assess what's going on in our lives, learn from it and move on in hope, faith and love...
Half an hour more and Starbucks opens... ;) Have a wonderful day.
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